Monday, 9 December 2013

Hobbit Holes and Sore Toes


Why you ask? Because in mere hours I'm going to see The Hobbit :The Desolation of Smaug!

I won advanced passes from a facebook contest, so there'll be no lines for this girl! In honor of this glorious occasion, I thought I'd show you all some pictures of when I went to the set of The freaking Hobbit when my hubs and I went to New Zealand!!!

So here we go!

Here I am with Gollum before the tour!

Which way will you go?

Here's the view from a special little hobbit hole. 

The Green Dragon Inn

Does this look familiar? This is the path Gandalf rode down as he shot fireworks out for the kids!

The Party Tree !!! (And my Dad)


Another hole!

And the view from down below.

I have a couple hundred more photos of the trip but those are a few of my favorites! Now, without further ado, I'm off to the premiere of The Hobbit!!!!

Monday, 18 November 2013

NaNo Catch-up


I'm eighteen days into NaNoWriMo and am super far behind. Like, I need to write at least 5k tomorrow to catch up. I have a huge list of excuses of why I'm behind, but they're just that--excuses. 

For example, I switched from full time to a contractor position at my day job, and now I'm busier than ever. I'm working more than I ever did on salary. I didn't get home until nearly 8 tonight, which for a slacker like me, that's quite the day. By the time I get home, I'm too tired to do anything.

Somehow last week I hurt my back. I spent a good four days bed/couch bound, only getting up to visit the chiro or attempt to stretch. I couldn't even sit up let alone squint through my muscle-relaxcent-riddeled brain fog long enough to write.

During the crazy work week and back pain, I also had a super bad cold. Of course. No one wants to work while they're hacking up a lung. It's been quite the November so far, folks.

But tomorrow, that all changes. I'm going to write. A lot.

I'm aiming for 15k, but I'll be happy with 5k. Hell, I'll be happy with 50 words. 

This story is so much different than anything I've ever tried writing before. For one, it's a total different category and genre. I write YA, my last two MSs being a thriller and a horror.

This book, tentatively called PLUS ONE, is a NA contemporary romance. I'm no stranger to writing sexy times - all of my books have romantic subplots - but writing a whole novel around a relationship is really hard. I find myself going back through my words and typing "ADD FEELINGS' at least once per page. It's hard. 

But regardless of my back, my runny nose, and my venturing into uncharted, yet sexy, waters, I will write tomorrow.

(If you see me on twitter, please shout at me to get back to work)


Tuesday, 15 October 2013

WIP Goodness

Morning Kittens,

I love the fall. Something about the colors, smells, and pumpkin everything makes me want to write up a storm. I just finished a new YA thriller. By finished I mean drafted and sent to my mother for plot-hole filling. She loves mysteries and is the best person to point out why my huge twist at the end doesn't make sense. Once she gives me the okay, I'll edit like a mofo and send it out to my CPs.

In the mean time, I've been dabbling with a little upper MG ghost story action. I'm only 11k in, but here's a little taste - a sip if you will.


The rustle of static wakes me up before the pebble against my window does.

“Echo Lima Sierra Indigo Echo, do you read me?” My best friend’s voice comes over the grey walkie talkie he got for Christmas last year.

I sit up and scramble through my nightstand drawer until my hand wraps around the hard plastic. I turn the volume down and hold my breath, waiting for Dad’s thundering footsteps. They don’t come. Another pebble hits my window. I hold down the long plastic button on the side of the walkie. “Romeo Oxford Mike Alpha November, I’m up. Stop chucking stuff at my window.

I can hear Roman laugh without the help of the walkie talkie. “You tryin’ to chicken out on me?”

“No, but if you don’t shut up I’ll be busted before I leave.” I toss the walkie on my bed and stand up, still dressed in my clothes from school. I grab a can of pam out of my nightstand – the same one my sister Beth gave me before she left for college – and spray it around the windowsill. The window slides up without a peep. I hop on the roof, crawl to the edge, and fall into the night. I land in the middle of the trampoline and scamper off.

If I’m going to get caught, it’ll happen now. I give Dad a courtesy minute to turn on his bedside lamp and fling up the blinds. When he doesn’t, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and hear Roman do the same from somewhere in the shadows.

“Ready, Freddie?” He asks once I join him under the burnt out street lamp. The bulb went out two months ago but no one has bothered to fix it yet. Mom calls the town hotline and leaves messages, but they ignore her.

“I will be once you tell me where we’re going.” I zip up my sweater and stuff my hands in my pockets.

“You’ll see.” Roman grabs his bike and wheels it onto the street.

“Last time you said that we both got grounded for a week,” I say as I swing my leg over the back tire and step onto the purple pegs sticking out from the wheel.

“It was so worth it.” Roman pushes off and we sail down the street.

I grab Roman’s shoulders and smile as the wind pushes my hair out of my face. Roman was right; the last time he said “you’ll see” had led to an epic outdoor swim with a couple of other kids in our grade. We would’ve made it scot free if the Wilson’s hadn’t upgraded their security system to include the backyard. The cops showed up after Travis Smith decided to jump off the shed, somehow setting off the alarm that had ignored us swimming for the house before.

“Is anyone else coming?” I ask as Roman turns onto an unfamiliar side street.

“Naw,” he says. “I thought it could just be us tonight. I need to talk to you.”

My stomach flips a little. The last time Roman needed to talk was to tell me he was breaking up with Claire Mitchell. The time before was because his grandpa died. I think back to the last week of school but I can’t remember any new crushes or fights. He did get his English test back on Friday though so maybe his teacher discovered he was some sort of Shakespeare genius and he was leaving for Yale immediately. That means I’m going have to finish grade eight alone.

“You’re not leaving me for Yale, are you?” I dig my fingers into his shoulders as he pops up onto the curb.

“What are you talking about?” Roman peddles onto a grassy trail that leads into a bunch of trees.

“Never mind,” I say.

Roman skids to a halt once we reach the first tree. “We have to walk from here.” He leans his bike against a short, iron fence that’s been there so long the trees have grown through the spaces between the metal bars.

It takes me a second to realize where we are. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going in there.”

Roman reaches back and snags my hand. “Don’t be a baby, Elsie.”

I yank my hand free and climb over the fence. I am not a baby. I follow Roman down a dark, twisting path that most likely leads to the spookiest part of Fredric Falls cemetery. We crunch over fallen orange leaves and hop over tree roots as we go farther and farther into the shadows. I have to look down as I walk; if I trip and rip my new jeans, Mom will know I snuck out.

“We’re here.” Roman stops walking so fast I almost crash into him.

“Where are we?” I look around at the tree we’re standing under. It’s unlike any tree I’ve ever seen before, and I’ve been to summer camp, so I’ve seen a lot of trees. For starters, there’s not a single piece of bark on it. The trunk is smooth and so pale grey it’s almost white. The branches reach for the twinkling stars but there isn’t a single leaf anywhere on them.

“It’s called the Bone Tree,” Roman says. “Neat, hey?”

“And creepy.” I sit down on the dirt and rest my back on the tree. “So are you gonna spill your guts or what?”

“I have to tell you the story of the Bone Tree first.”  Roman sits next to me and pushes his square-rimmed glasses up his nose.  He got contacts for his thirteenth birthday but he wears his glasses when it’s just us. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of twinkies. He opens them and passes me one. “My brother told me about the tree last night. He and his friends, Rory and Trish, came here on the weekend.”

I stuff the twinkie in my mouth and try to talk around the sweet, fluffy goodness. “Did they take turns frenching Trish?”

Roman shrugs. “I didn’t ask. Now shut up, will ya? I’m trying to tell you a ghost story.”

I swallow the twinkie and stick my tongue out at him.

Roman clears his throat like Dad does before grace. “’Kay, once up a time, like four hundred years ago, there lived a priest named Samuel. He came over from Europe with his wife, but she died on the ship. He settled here, in Fredric Falls, and started a church. He was happy with his congregation but he was lonely. A month later, a huge flood wiped out a bunch of the farm land surrounding the town. A local farmer offered Samuel his only daughter if he could plant crops on the church’s land.”

“He traded his daughter for dirt?” I shake my head. “What a crappy dad.”

“It was a different time,” Roman says. “Your dad would trade you for a herd of goats if you lived back then.”

“No he wouldn’t.” My wavy, messy blonde hair blows in my face so I grab a handful of it and twist it into a braid.

Roman stares at my hair. “You’re right. You’d be worth at least two herds. Maybe a pig too.”

I throw a handful of leaves at him. “What happened to Samuel and the girl? Did they get married?”

Roman nods. “They fell in love too. They had a little boy and they were really happy for a couple of years. But then Mary, the wife, got sick.”

“The priest has no luck with the ladies.” I run my hands through the soft dirt.

Roman stands up and looks up at the glowing moon. “She died right before the fall harvest. Samuel went crazy. He sent his son away and kept Mary’s body locked up in his house. He prayed over her body for days, and when that didn’t work, he brought in a witch to bless the body. It wasn’t until Mary’s father showed up that the priest decided to lay his love to rest.”

For some stupid reason I feel a tear running down my cheek. I wipe it away before Roman can see. “What does any of this have to do with the tree?”

“I’m getting to that.” Roman pushes his shaggy black hair out of his eyes. “The farmer dug his daughter a grave in this cemetery and planted a tree over top of her body because they couldn’t afford a headstone.”

I half jump, half crawl away from the tree. “Why didn’t you tell me I was sitting on a dead person?”

“Because she didn’t stay dead,” Roman whispers in my ear.

I shove him away and wiggle as a chill crawls up my spine.

Roman keeps going. “The priest turned his back on his church and locked himself in his house to grieve. He didn’t come out until he heard reports of a woman in white roaming the cemetery. Samuel spent night after night at Mary’s grave, crying and begging God to show him his wife.”

“Did God answer his prayers?” I try to remember my old Sunday school classes. I know people rose from the dead all the time, but I can’t remember if they roamed graveyards after or not.

“Someone did, but I don’t think it was God.” Roman walks in a slow circle around the tree. “On the fourth day Samuel found his wife, still dressed in the white gown she was married, and later buried, in. Samuel scooped her up but she was made of icy mist and nothing more. She didn’t laugh or smile like she used too either, and when the sun came up she disappeared. Samuel waited for her the next night and when Mary came back, she spoke to him. She told him she wasn’t strong enough to stay on her own. She needed help.”

“So what did the priest do?” I wrap my arms around myself and hop from foot to foot. “Bring her a power bar and an energy drink?”

This earns me a full on Roman chuckle. For such a skinny guy, Roman has a huge laugh. “This was four hundred years ago, Els, not four. Samuel read books on black magic and voodoo spells and found out if he buried articles from other dead people it would give Mary strength.”

“Things?” I ask. “Like bones?”

Roman shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Jake said it was stuff like lockets and handkerchiefs. The priest wasn’t a grave robber—he only took things the dead left behind, and he always asked their families first. Soon, once he had buried enough stuff, Mary came back to him. She was only there at night, but it was enough for Samuel. Mary was as white as chalk and freezing cold, but Samuel could actually touch her. He spent years in the cemetery with his wife, and each time she started to fade away, he’d bring her back with a photograph or a letter.”

“That’s stupid,” I say. “What kind of life is that? He could have met another girl but instead he wasted his life in the dark and dirt.”

Roman shrugs. “I dunno, if you could keep someone you loved around, wouldn’t it be worth it?”

I wrinkle my nose. I can’t imagine loving a boy, let alone loving one enough to spend the rest of my life in a place like this. The thought makes something in my brain snap into place. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Roman takes his glasses off and gives me a sad little smile. “Because I’m dying.”

Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Review: Delia's Shadow

I received an eArc from Net Galley. Delia's Shadow will be available September 17th, 2013.

Delia's Shadow is a beautifully written, often thrilling, ghost story set in San Francisco in 1915.

Delia Martin is returning home from New York City to her adopted family after a three year trip. On the train, we're introduced to Shadow, a persistent yet kind spirit that only Delia can see. Shadow is desperately trying to get Delia to solve her murder, but all she can show Delia are dream images from her death. We meet Sadie, Delia's dear friend and foster sister, as well as Sadie's fiance, Jack, and his partner Gabe. As the Panama Expo begins, a serial killer from Gabe's past starts to torture and kill again.

Gabe and Delia grow close, and as her Shadow shows more and more of her life to Delia, it becomes increasingly clear that she is one of the killers victims. Gabe, Jack, and Delia work together to solve Shadow's murder before the cunning killer can strike again.

I really enjoyed this book. Usually I find historical fiction a little hard to get into, but Moyer starts off so strong that I found it hard to put the book down. 

I love how strong Delia and Sadie are. They support Jack and Gabe just as much as the men protect them. I never once felt like Delia was a damsel that needed rescuing. I'm used to in-your-face contemporary, so the subtle romance took a little bit of getting used too. As the story went on, the chemistry between Gabe and Delia was undeniable.

The paranormal aspects were deliciously creepy. I found myself checking over my shoulder for a Shadow of my own more than once. The suspense was gripping, so much so that I read the last one hundred pages in one sitting. The death and torture details were tasteful yet terrifyingly effective.

The setting was awesome. I loved the descriptions of the dresses and the restaurants. The expo was one of my favorite scenes - I really felt like I was a part of the action and excitement.

Rating: 4/5

I can't wait to buy my own copy of Delia's Shadow and I'm looking forward to anything else Jamie Lee Moyer releases.

Monday, 26 August 2013


Yesterday was my 26th birthday. I'm almost in my late twenties. This is both exciting and nauseating.

25 was a good year. I wrote a couple books, had one published, and landed my super faboosh agent, Kat Rushall! 

I really don't see how 26 can live up to 25, but I really hope it puts up a good fight.

So I thought I'd put up 26 random things  about myself / goals for this year / more random stuff.

1.   I'd like a book deal. (shocker, I know.)

2. I absolutely hate the sound of people eating. Especially weirdly textured food like bananas. I also despise hurried eaters. The ones who cannot get food into their mouth fast enough. I have a lot of food related peeves.

3. My neighbor has a litter of five week old boxer puppies and I got ALL the birthday kisses.

4. I almost cried during the thirty second N'Sync reunion.

5. I don't realize the book I'm writing sucks until I'm already 30k into it. 

6. I'm obsessed with audiobooks.

7. My favorite color is purple.

8. I got black chuck taylors for my birthday. I'm in desperate need of ankle socks.

9. I have seven tattoos.

10. I love the Twilight saga && don't hate FSOG.

11. I haven't clapped in my house since I watched the Conjuring.

12. I think my husband is actually the hottest guy on the planet.

13. For my 26th birthday, my Mom got me a trip to Silverwood theme park. I'm currently making a calender with count down days on it. I'm like a freaking seven year old.

14. My great grandpa is 102 and just bought my book.

15. I have to remind myself that Jamie Bower is not actually Jace Wayland.

16. Sugar saves any spaghetti sauce.

17. I love cabbage.

18. I loathe mushrooms, but love mushroom soup. (I strain the little mushroom chunks).

19. Neil Gaiman is my patronus.

20. I think Ben Affleck will make a fine Batman.

21. I think Moonchild is a stupid name.

22. I've seen the Princess Bride 500 times. (It sounds like an exaggeration, but it's really not. I watched it before bed at least four times a week in high school).

23. Number 22 gave me unreal expectations about first loves.

24. Sometimes I let my eighty pound German Shepard sleep on my pillow and I put my head on her tummy.

25. My family is cooler than your family. Just kidding. Your family is equally as cool as mine. Let's have a picnic.

26. This year will be my best year yet. 

Monday, 17 June 2013


Hey Team!!

I have a story for you!! In case you're busy, here is the story told using gifs.

Short Version:

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Jenna.

She wrote a book.

She got a bunch of requests and even a few R&Rs, but nothing panned out. This made Jenna sad.

She wrote another book.

Jenna queried:

She got a full request!

The agent e-mailed and said she wanted to talk.

Super agent offers representation!!

Jenna accepts!!


Longer Version:

As some of you may know, I wrote a book called Washed Up. I loved the concept, agents loved the concept, and it got a butt ton of requests. It made it into every contest I entered. Washed Up even gathered a few R&Rs, which I blogged about. The whole process was good for the ego until the replies started trickling in. Many were form responses, "I just didn't connect with the story." etc.

A few months after I sent in my R&Rs, I received passes on them both. Both agents had preferred the older versions. I was super bummed, but I still had a good handful of fulls out.

To keep myself sane, I wrote Beautiful Malevolence.

I stayed up late, skipped meals (and a few showers), and within twelve days it was done.

A fellow writer, Christie Stratos, put out a twitter-call for test clients for her beta service, Proof Positive.

I signed up and sent her the first draft. She sent be back an edited draft along with some super awesome, constructive critique notes. I made the changes she suggested, and sent it along to my two CP's, Rachel and Amber. (i lllllllllluuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeee you)

They had it back to me in days with super similar notes ( lots of ADD ALL THE FEELS and STOP WITH ALL THE DIALOGUE TAGS).

I spent ten days revising after that, and then I sent out a few queries from PitMad requests.

A few more rejections for Washed Up came in, but so did a full request for BM (hahahahahah worst initials ever).

Over the next week or two I sent out a few more queries to the agents still reading Washed up, letting them know I was in the beginning stages of querying a new novel. This got me a few more full requests piggy-backing on Washed Up rejections. (Note: Querying a new ms with material still out is confusing.)

I knew my query/pages were working, so I entered two huge contests. I was almost positive I'd get into them given my previous contest luck.

I didn't make it into either.

The next day, Beautiful Malevolence got it's first rejection, but it came with super great notes. I changed a few things, and then sent out a flock of queries.

In that batch, I queried an agent, let's call her Agent K, who had already passed on both Washed Up and Second Hand Lace at the query level. I knew it was a long shot, but her recent sales/client list made it impossible NOT to query her. She was at the top of my list.

On Thursday, June 6th, I held my breath and e-mailed Agent K with my query/ten pages. That was at 11:30am.

She asked for the full at 11:33.

I sent it right away.

I queried  a few more agents that weekend and got to work on twitter-stalking Agent K (oh come on, you know you do it too.)

On Saturday, I get a notification that Agent K is following me on twitter. I convince myself that it's purely a coincidence. Who wouldn't want to follow me? I'm hilarious.

On Sunday, I get this e-mail.....:

Heeeey Jenna,

So, I just finished BEAUTIFUL MALEVOLENCE. I love it! Can we talk tomorrow?

Also, can you tell me about other genres you like to write or any other projects you're currently working on?

I'm so excited to speak with you!


I jumped up on the couch and half laughed/half cried. Matt thought I was losing my mind.

His exact words were, "All she wants to do is talk to you. Why are you freaking out?"

I explain, we jump-hug, and then I attempt to sleep. (Thank you, ONE, for keeping me company all night :D )

Agent K calls the next morning. 

She offers to represent me, this book, and anything else I write in the future! She gives me some great notes on BM, including a potential title change!

I fumble through a list of questions and she answers them all in a way my excited-foggy brain can comprehend. 

We agree to chat next Monday (today!!), and she sends me over the agency agreement and a few of her client's e-mails.

I wrote them right away and the feedback I received was incredible. They didn't just talk about how great Agent K was, but how awesome of a partner she is during revisions/submissions, and how hard she fights for each and every one of them. These e-mails made me even more excited at the idea of working with her.

I spent the next day informing agents that had my query/full/full of WU.  Every agent passed on Washed Up. Outstanding queries for BM resulted in another 10 full requests. One agent offered a R&R if I didn't end up accepting the offer. Another agent liked it a lot, but her senior agents didn't. In the end, I only had one offer of representation, but that was the only one I needed.

Here are some stats for you number lovers :)

Washed Up

Queries sent: 130
Rejections: 107
Fulls/Partials: 20
R&R: 3
Offers: 0

Beautiful Malevolence

Queries sent: 50
Rejections: 31
Closed: 4
Fulls/Partials: 13
R&R: 1
Offer: 1

And now, without any further ramblings, I'm thrilled to announce that I am officially represented by the brilliant, amazing......... 

Kathleen Rushall of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency !!!!!!!!!!


Phewf. My fingers are a little sore after all that.

I just wanted to further the finger pain and thank Christie Stratos for all her hard work and her wicked-awesome proofreading/beta service.

 Rachel, I love you and your blunt, ass-kicking notes. You saw what needed to be changed, and I never would have gotten an agent without you !! xoxoxoxoxo

Amber-- You are my life line. If it weren't for you, I would have quit a long time ago. Thank you for all  the work you put into BM (haha). I love you!! <333

Anyways, I'm super excited to start revising BM and for all the fabulous things the future holds!!


Tuesday, 11 June 2013


Hello kittens,

Did you know that my dad used to call us (my siblings and me) kittens? Or cubs, or any baby animal name, really. It was cute. When we're all together, he still busts it out every once in a while.

I bet you're wondering what that has to do with anything?


This whole blog post has nothing to do with anything writerly related.

It's just about me.

I'm Jenna.

I'm 25, but I'll be 26 in August. 25 was a hard one for me. I cried. I was a quarter of a century. My husband thought it was hilarious.

My husband's name is Matt. He is the love of my freaking life. It genuinely freaks me out to think about a world without him in it. Like. I feel nauseous right now just from typing that.

Here we are a couple years ago...I'm using this picture because EVERY photo I have of him on my phone is either him with our dogs, or with a beer. (and I look cute here)

That, ladies and gentlemen, is my man. He's my biggest fan--talk to him in the grocery store longer than a minute and he'll tell you that I have a book out. He'll even give you a special deal (usually 20% more than the cover price).

Matt and I have two dogs.

Elli is on the left, and Indi is on the right. They're looking at me like that because I was eating a bowl of rice pudding. They love rice pudding, but Elli won't eat the raisins.

We don't have any kids, but we do have a huge family. Together, we have seven brothers and sisters.
John, Kristin, Carlee, Mack, Angel, Dustin, and Levi. And our parents, Jim, Donna, Darren, and Lisa. AND we have one super teeny little nephew. His name is Sawyer.

<Warning> Impending Cuteness <Warning>


Okay. That covers the fam-dam. What else...I love pasta. Way more than I should. 

I like scary movies and hot tamales. 

I love books that make me stay up late and cry because I'll never be as talented as their writers. 

I love cats, even though Matt won't let me get one. 

I love my friends. They're awesome and supportive and patiently listen while I ramble off book ideas I will never write.

I could actually live in Disneyland. 

I hate the sound of people eating.

I love watching the grooms at when they see their brides for the first time. Here's my favorite photo from my own.

Like seriously. I'm getting misty over here.

And there you have it a nutshell.

Thursday, 2 May 2013

The Writer's Voice : Beautiful Malevolence

Hello Kittens!

The raffle gods were on my side (for once) so I get to take part in this years The Writer's Voice!

You can find out more about the contest here ....or here . And here . Oh, and here too.

Contest Goddesses Cupid, Brenda, Monica , Krista, and Kimberly are putting it on.

Thank you so much for all your hard work!

And now onto the goods :)


Sixteen-year-old Olivia doesn't think she killed her dog, but her blood soaked pajamas say otherwise. If the death of her pet wasn't bad enough, now someone is tormenting her through cryptic e-mails and a painted locker that screams “Murderer”. At first she writes it off as a cruel prank, but after her drama teacher accuses her of stealing and Olivia’s crush, Smith, swears they hooked up, Olivia starts to wonder if someone is set on destroying her life or if she’s doing it to herself.

When her mom is attacked and hospitalized, Olivia is sent to the Royal Alexander Center for Mental Health. After a psych evaluation rules out paranoid personality disorder and a video tape catches someone who looks eerily similar to Olivia torching a school shed, she is released from the Center. Smith becomes her knight-in-denim armor when he discovers the identity of Olivia’s tormentor and turns the tables in their favor.

Armed with a taste for revenge, Olivia’s out to clear her name and get some payback. But each retaliating prank escalates and the price of her revenge could be the lives of the people she loves.

BEAUTIFUL MALEVOLENCE is a young adult thriller completed at 50, 000 words. My novel will appeal to fans of PRETTY LITTLE LIARS by Sara Shepard and Jenny Han and Siobhan Vivian's BURN FOR BURN.

First 250:

I have to bury my best friend today.

Right now, Dad is outside digging a hole next to the oak tree in the backyard. Mom is on her knees at the head of the pit; she doesn't even look bothered that she’s ruining her new linen pants. She won’t stop adjusting the hastily thrown together wooden cross. She looped Tobin’s collar around it but it won’t sit right. I should go down there and help but I’m not sure if I’m welcome.

Mom can’t even look at me without crying.

She thinks I did it.

I don’t blame her. They found Tobin in my bed, his golden fur matted with blood, and the butcher knife in my hand even though I was asleep.

I don’t remember a thing, and I don’t think I did it, but it doesn't matter.

Tobin is dead and Mom hates me.

“Olivia, honey, do you want to come downstairs?” Dad calls from the kitchen.

Dad isn't mad at me—he knows I’d never hurt Tobin on purpose. He thinks maybe I was sleepwalking or something. They’re taking me to the nut house tomorrow to talk to some shrink.

I climb off my bed, thankful Mom put clean sheets on the rust-colored mattress, and shuffle through my door and down the stairs.

“Will she let me go outside?” I ask.

“Of course she will,” Dad says, holding out his hand.

I reach for it and we walk into the backyard together. It’s a beautiful, sunny day.

Thursday, 25 April 2013


Morning Loves!

So, as you may know, my first book came out! Yes! It did! Right now, it's just digital, but that's cool! Everyone has an E-Reader, right? I've been making a ton of cute jewelry to give away with the paperback copies in the next month or two, but in the mean time I wanted to do something to tide myself over.

I had NO clue what to giveaway until I started obsessively checking my usual websites. Querytracker and Publishers Marketplace.


Well there's an idea.

So, in honor of my book-baby seeing the light of day, I'm giving away a digital copy of Second Hand Lace AND your choice of a Premium QueryTracker membership (Querying writers - you NEED this) or one month of Publishers Marketplace so you can stalk sales to your hearts content.

All you need to do is comment on this blog post and you're in the draw! I'll leave it open until next Wednesday (May 1st).

Good luck!


Wednesday, 17 April 2013

How Second Hand Lace came to be

On October 27th, 2009 I went to a halloween shopping. My husband, Matt, and I wanted to be a dead couple.

Matt walked into value village, found a blue, wool suit, and tried it on. It fit him like a glove. It took around five minutes.

That same day we went to four other thrift shops and I tried on every different wedding dress they had . Now let me tell you something - wedding dresses are a bitch to fit once they've been altered. I tried on some that were four sizes too big that I couldn't get over my albeit curvy butt. I tried on some two sizes to small that I would have had to take in six inches. It was a freaking nightmare.

So at the end of the night we stopped at the last shop on our list. I tried on eight dresses, and when I finally got to the last one I was ready to have a full-out-carb-fueled-melt down. The last dress on the rack was from the 1920's. It looked teeny tiny, but I tried it on anyway. When it fit, I did some sort of variation of this:

Anyhoo, I bought the dress and our costumes were awesome.

That night we had supper at my parents place, so I brought the dress along to show them. It gave my dad the serious willies. He wouldn't touch it, look at it, nothing. He said the person wearing the dress was dead, and he didn't want it near him (you should see him in an antique store - it's like the haunted mansion).

The next day we got a wicked snow storm, so my dad picked me up for work (I work for him). On our snowy two and a half hour commute we started chatting about how creepy my dress was. By the end of the drive the owner of the dress had been gruesomely murdered and disassembled. Just as we pulled up to the office, my dad said "You should write a book about that."

So I did.

The whole thing took me two years. Actually, just over two years. I won't bore you with all the querying details, or how I queried the first draft. That can wait for another day.

Long story short, I signed my contract with Turquoise Morning Press in March of 2012. 

And now the day is finally here where I can buy my own book off Amazon. 

It's kind of surreal. 

I don't think it'll feel real until I can squeeze the paperback.

Anyways - that's the story of how Second Hand Lace came to be. Now here are a few links if you wanna check it out!

OR you can add it to Goodreads too :)

AND here's the cover if you missed it!

Wednesday, 13 March 2013

The Next Big Thing: WIP Madness

So the lovely and incredibly talented Rachel tagged me in this blog hop, and since I'm doing nothing but sitting on my couch and staring at the blank space after the last word I typed, I thought it would be fun. 

Washed Up monopolizes my brain most of the time (I'm querying and in R&R limbo) I thought it'd be fun to spend some time talking about my WIP.

1. What is the title of your book?

My WIP is currently title impaired. I suck at titles. 

2. Where did the idea come from?

Nowhere really. I had a scene in my head - a girl burying her pet - and the story kind of grew around it. I wish I could say I was inspired by a piece of art, or a moving lyric, but nope. Anytime I'm inspired by the media I get these big, awesome ideas that have already been done a million times.

3. What genre does your book fall under?

Guhhhhh. YA....contempmysterorror. Seriously, right now it has a Revenge (Tv) feel too it, but the ending has a possibility to make it more contempt-ish. If you read Washed Up, that'll make sense to you.

4. What actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Now this is the fun part. 

Olivia is a redhead, so naturally it'd be Merida from Brave.

For real life people?

It'd be a toss up between these two lovely ladies.

 Karen Gillian


Emma Stone

Now Smith, my hunky LI, is tough because the actor I could see playing him isn't really high-school aged, but he's so hot he's worth posting anyway.

Sigh. Wouldn't that be fun.

5. What is a one sentance synopsis of your book?

Someone is out to get sixteen-year-old Olivia, but the problem isn't who is ruining her life, its whether the person is real, or if it's all in Olivia's head.

6.  Is your book self-published, published by an independent publisher, or represented by an agency?

None of the above :)   I'm querying Washed Up, so this just keeps me sane in meantime. 

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I started writing this last Monday, and I'm right around the 25k mark. I write in 2-3 day long spurts, and then I watch cat videos for a week or so.

8. What other books would you compare this story to in your genre?

 So far it's kind of like TEN by Gretchen McNeil as far as the guessing game goes. The timeline - the way it switches your view completely - is (and I say this with upmost reverence) most like GONE GIRL by Gillian Flynn even though mine is YA.

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?

My mom loves murder mysteries - she's always watching Murdoch Mysteries, Murder she Wrote, and some NZ show about gardening seniors who solve crimes...Anyways. I wanted to write something she'd like, but I'm hardly the cozy mystery type. So this is my go at writing something she won't be able to put down.

10. What else about your book might pique the reader's interest?

Hackers. Fire. Blood. Making out. Hot boys.

Here is the first half page or so:

I have to bury my best friend today.

Right now my parents are outside digging a hole next to the oak tree in the backyard.

Mom can’t even look at me without crying.

She thinks I did it.

I don’t blamer her; they found Tobin in my bed, his golden fur matted with blood, and the knife in my hand.

I was sleeping so I don’t remember a thing, and I don’t think I did it, but it doesn’t matter.

Tobin is dead and Mom hates me.

That's all from me, kittens!