Words that have plagued writers since the first one decided to put pen to paper. I struggle with enormous self-doubt. I’ve yet to get paid for a piece I’ve written. I’ve been published which is… More
Cursed with enhanced mental abilities and consistently degrading eyesight, VICTORIA BOUCHARD is a walking medical phenomenon most talented neuroscientists could never hope to unravel. As she struggles to cope with the news of her impending blindness, she learns of a deranged serial killer deemed by the FBI as the ‘Ghoul Butcher’ who’s rapidly making his way towards her humble University in the heart of Rural Iowa.
With police on a manhunt and the locals in a frenzy, her visual health is suddenly the least of her worries. On the other hand, her lover and best friend KAIZER DRESDEN is determined to keep his distance from the case as it unfolds.
As a Grim Reaper, stripped of his powers and exiled from his home world to serve out a three hundred year sentence on Earth; he knows he would be the prime suspect in the eyes of the immortals who banished him. But with the seemingly unstoppable Ghoul cutting a swath right for them, he and Victoria have no choice but to take matters into their own hands and investigate the murders in order to protect his new found home.
Genesis: The Awakening is a fantasy epic, over four hundred pages of action, romance, and a kickass heroine who flourishes in the face of adversity. Diverse and multicultural, Genesis breaks stereotypes and casts a unique light on the fantasy genre.
What advanced readers are saying:
“…one of the best I’ve ever read. Couldn’t put it down.”–Lindsay S.
“…a story that will stay with you a long time. The characters have purpose and by the time you get into the thick of it, you have a purpose too. You have to see the battle to the end.”–Jerrica A.
“…a terrifyingly immersive experience. I have never screamed at a book like characters in a movie before.”–Brook J.
“…there’s finally a heroine that looks like me and the entire story isn’t just a written kung-fu flick.”–Soo Young K.
Coming this Christmas season to all major platforms AND print!
I am still at a complete and utter loss for words. I’ve attached the email sent by Mrs. Kim Burrows below because I am still firmly unable to process this. I was so worried when I released What’s Done in the Dark, because it was my first formal erotica effort. And it won a freaking award! I didn’t get first place, but that never matters to me. I am so completely honored and humbled that my work was even considered. I want to extend a big thank you to Literary Erotica Mag and a formal congratulations on opening their new website and having the courage to do so. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for remembering me!
In light of recent world events I thought it pertinent to reach out to you, my family of readers, whose opinions I find absolutely invaluable.
I’ve written in the past that a community of writers can, has been, and in certain aspects always will be, a place of joy, happiness and support. Every writer needs their team. Their support system. The people who are meant to catch them when they inevitably stumble and need help finding their light again. That being said, there are unfortunately a lot of people I simply can’t associate within my community.
In the circles that I follow, and once fervently participated in, all I see are issues that cause me to grow increasingly disheartened. Every day I see posts that are blatantly racist. Posts that are blatantly sexist. Entire books built on played out stereotypes and tired tropes about people of color; the timid, shy Asian woman or the loud, ghetto black woman, or the spicy sex-crazed Latina…And it needs to stop. Things need to change. I am completely for writing what you want, but when you fail to realize how these microagressions give people the wrong idea, which negatively impacts the demographics you so carelessly write about, I can’t willingly be a part of it. That is to say, that for my own mental well-being, I can’t allow myself to be around it nor play a part in ignoring or supporting it.
As a person of color who writes fantasy, I’m a rare sight. And in a world where the characters, subject matter, and authors themselves are dominated by a primarily white demographic who are uncomfortable speaking about race, privilege, sex, class, and having conversations that would change their unknowingly insensitive, oppressive behavior, I’m obviously not welcome. And that’s fine by me. Because I don’t do what I do for other writers. I do it for my readers.
My wonderful, tough as nails, readers. You guys are my stars. You light up all the darkness in my world and chase the shadows away. That’s why I continue to produce content. That’s why I limit my interaction with others who intentionally, and unintentionally, write, do, and say things that affect my people and, by extention, me. Because of you, I don’t care about anything else except for delivering the content you’ve come to know and love. And so, I thank you. Continually. For your support. I can never hope to repay you enough.
To more books, more conversations, and more love.
You know, working is something we usually have to do, whether you’re a published author or just starting out. We start somewhere and sometimes it can be hard to maintain the passion for writing and working full-time; especially when at times you can only think about writing the days you’re working. Which is every day. And sometimes, you can be at a full-time job that tires you mentally; I was in that position a couple months ago. I used to work in a warehouse full-time and it was not the experience I wanted to go through.
Each day when I returned from the job I would be drained mentally from what I would have to go through. It wasn’t fun at all, I felt that my creativeness had completely been sucked out of me. It was hard for me to even write a sentence when I came home from a hard days work and that was every day. There are some things that we may be able to handle but this was not it; I started to become sick after awhile and that’s when I knew I had to officially leave.
And once I did, my mind started to become clearer, unfortunately, I could not take back those moments where I could have written. It was heart wrenching for me to go through something like that and lose my passion at the same time. No one, and I mean no one, should go through something like this. For me, it felt like I lost something within myself; I identify a lot with writing and it had calmed me in times of need when I needed it most. And for that to be taken away, I did feel like I lost my identity. However, once I had left that environment, I started to work in an office again, I could feel my mind dusting away the doors to Morus Academy (my mind palace), and pushing them open.
After a while, I started to reacquaint myself with my characters, but more importantly, I started to write again. I felt myself become happier with what I started to write and it wasn’t just writing Descendant of Aphrodite, but it was writing my short stories and The Journey to Writing blogs. This newer job gave me a sense of hope and now when I get home or I’m on my lunch break I can sit and finally write with a clear mind. When I take my hour bus ride to get to work or back home, I’m sitting there writing, I’m actually writing this whole post on the bus. Yes, working full-time is hard and at times difficult, especially when you’re working in a place that drains you completely.
I do like working full-time and I do love writing, sometimes working full-time and being an Author goes hand in hand. You can’t change that at times, we all go through it when we’re all starting out. We want to shoot for the stars that are litter with Authors but it is a long way to land among them. And sometimes we have to start somewhere, whether we are making a career of writing or if we’re going into our jobs and just writing along the way. We all have ink in our blood and we all know that our lunches and getting off of work is exciting when we can finally break out our phones, tablets or laptops just to write. We set aside our jobs when our hour lunch comes around and we travel into the worlds we create and explore it until its time to set our world aside for work. We always have to remember that we must balance our job and our love for writing.
My only advice to everyone out there working full-time and writing is to never give up, to never lose yourself like I did. It’s not a good feeling and once that comes over you, it is a struggle to understand why it happens. But, we will continue to move forward and that’s what we must do, don’t give up on your dreams and don’t give up on writing. When you start a job it can be hard to get into a rhythm of balancing them out, but you will later down the road. That it will become this lovely routine of working, lunch, write, working, go home and write. We know that at the end of our work day that our characters are waiting, so giving up is not an option for us, especially not for them.
We work both ways whether it is through our passion for writing or through our jobs that we have for ourselves. It may seem impossible to maintain both, but it won’t be in the long run, just remember to breathe and to give yourself time to understand and adapt to your schedule. In the end, you will find a way and your characters will be there waiting for you with open arms and ready for the battles to come. So just breath, you’ll get through this, I did and I know you can.
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Most of you probably know that I’m hard at work making the sequel to Bad Grades happen. Bad Intentions is barely five chapters in and it’s already shaping up to be one of my favorite stories I’ve written this year.
In the wake of Claire and Daniel’s story, Jung In is off to Syracuse New York to investigate Paragon Genetic Solutions and potentially free the psychics he met during his ten-year captivity. Disguising himself as Henri Kang, med student from Korea, he goes undercover as a Neurology student and enters a residency program at a hospital co-owned by Dr. Edward Chang himself. It’s at this hospital that he meets Neurologist Alice Morgan, a beautiful, curvy, doctor with more confidence and attitude than the law should allow.
With her backstory still being developed at this point only two things are clear; she’s more than likely an incredibly powerful psychic, and she absolutely cannot stand Jung In. Having been hurt before she’s pretty mean on purpose, both due to the fact that she doesn’t want to do the residency and she wants to keep her heart protected just in case she starts to fall in love, but the genius Jung In has already recognized that and is using it against her. He knows that, the more he catches her off guard with his flirting, the closer he can get to her. Now, he’s extremely attracted to her and has already confessed that to himself AND to Daniel, but he also knows that getting close to her could mean finding the information he needs to free those psychics. Which is still his goal, despite having a perpetual hardon for Dr. Morgan.
It’s interesting watching this story and its characters develop, especially the budding romance between the emotionally stunted Jung In and the emotionally reclusive Alice. She has her fair share of past trauma, but it’s nothing compared to the torture he faced while living as Chang’s personal psychic slave. The more I listen to them banter, the more I feel like I’m watching an old school Tekken or Mortal Kombat match. Either fight or kiss each other already!
And of course I didn’t have this problem with Daniel and Claire because it was clear from the jump that Daniel would stop at NOTHING to have Claire by his side. He knew he was in love with her before I did! And I created them!
If you haven’t read Bad Grades yet, I implore you to do so. You really won’t want to miss all the action and romance that led up to Jung In being freed and him finally getting his own chance at happiness. I’m so stoked that I chose him to be the focal point of Bad Intentions. I mean, Daniel can’t have all the fun, can he?
Grab Bad Grades on Amazon and jump into this story! At the price of just 99cents, what do you have to lose?
Find out more on my website!
Bad Grades: Chapter Two
There he was, again, unable to keep his eyes off of her. And, although part of him knew that it made her uncomfortable, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Dark brown eyes met his briefly before she turned her gaze on the rest of the room, trying her best to ignore him and failing horribly. But, she’d looked at him. He’d held her attention for more than a second, and the thought of it alone made him feel like he was floating.
“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit,” Professor Lanh said, quoting Aristotle as she leaned against her heavy, oak wood desk. She was in the middle of yet another lecture that, despite his rapidly decreasing grade point average, he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to. Was it his fault that he was much more interested in the woman herself? In the thick, wild curls she wore barely contained in a bun at the base of her neck? In the rise of her full bosom and the curve of her hips? The fact that she’d called his flirting pitiful still stung, but he could understand why she’d lash out at him in the way she did. He’d been nothing but a butthead since the term started. He deserved her ire but, dammit, he couldn’t get her off of his mind. It wasn’t often that he felt attracted to someone physically and mentally. Sure, there were plenty of women his age on campus who would gladly return his advances, but there was something about Professor Claire Lanh that made his chest tighten and his lungs seize. And he was desperate to find out exactly what.
Thickly rimmed, black-framed glasses sat on the end of her button nose, a dark contrast against the dusky red that colored her golden, freckled cheeks. Obviously of mixed heritage, she was a rare beauty that hid her natural charm behind a brick wall of disinterest and feigned bitterness. Daniel sat forward in his seat to get a better look at her, his brain unable to register the words she spoke, but picking up every subtle move of her fingertips, every bat of her long, dark lashes. Dressed in a baggy, beige sweater, knee-length skirt, and oxfords, she looked every bit as boring and pretentious as she pretended to be. He found it odd that such an obviously sensual woman did everything she could to hide her body from his gaze. And gaze he did. As often as possible.
“Which means, what?” someone asked from behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He reached for the textbook he hadn’t opened the entire length of class, absently thumbing through it to hide the fact that he really wasn’t paying attention. He’d almost forgotten they weren’t alone, that forty other students surrounded them in distraction and interference. The Professor shifted with unease, adjusting her glasses more out of habit than necessity.
“Which means that absolutely none of you should be failing my class. Philosophy is the study of the nature of knowledge, reality, and existence. It isn’t a math course, there is no one set way to do things; philosophy is discussion and thought. It’s the reasoning behind everything we say or do. So long as you just keep talking about it, studying it should be a habit and you should all excel,” she explained. The class groaned and he smirked behind his book. He’d never met someone so passionate about teaching, especially something as boring as philosophy, but every word she spoke on the topic was as if it would be her last. He wished for what felt like the hundredth time that he could delve into her mind, pick up her thoughts and devour all the thoughts and intricacies that made her unique. But he couldn’t. And that was what made her so infinitely fascinating.
“Or, it just means this class is fucking stu–!”
“–pendous,” Daniel cut him off, turning in his seat to stare up at him. If he remembered correctly, his name was Jarred something-or-other. They shared a criminal law class. “Just like our Professor here. That’s what you were going to say, right?”
“Whatever, Daniel, you do this shit every day and get a kick out of it,” he snorted. Daniel returned his playful look with a smile, watching his eyes flicker like dead pixels before fizzling out. The color drained from the man’s face when they locked gazes, his mouth going slack as gibberish bubbled forth.
“You were saying?” he asked. Jarred shook his head to clear it. He didn’t speak again, just gathered up his things and bolted for the door. Daniel turned in his seat to smirk at the Professor who looked just as confused as the rest of her class.
“Well,” she cleared her throat, “I guess I should let the rest of you go, too. It is getting rather late.”
“About freaking time,” someone grumbled from the back of the room. His classmates gathered their things and bolted from the room like rats freed from a cage. Daniel stayed behind, once again, watching her gather a stack of papers and head through a side door into her office. He grabbed his bag and followed.
“I enjoyed your lecture today, Professor,” he said once they were alone.
“Is that so?” she asked, stuffing her papers into an oversized canvas bag before turning to face him. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Now, I have some things to finish up so perhaps–”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, smirking to himself when she glared up at him. “I spoke to Professor Cole again. She explained just how deep you are in the hole and urged me to help you with whatever I can. I know I’m not the best at philosophy but, I’m sure we can work something out in exchange for a passing grade. I’d even take a C minus if it means I’ll pass,” he told her. The Professor continued to glare up at him but it was obvious by the look in her eyes that she was weighing her options. On one hand, Professor Cole was very vague about what she needed help with but, through deductive reasoning, he could tell it must have been important. She was a new teacher at St. Lucia and he was well aware of how tough the school was on new faculty. From daily performance reports to monthly evaluations–it was hell. But, to be perfectly honest, regardless of his grade, he would have helped her anyway if it meant he got to spend even a minute of extra time with her.
“You tried this yesterday, didn’t you? What I told you then still applies. I don’t need your help,” she said pointedly. Daniel heaved a martyred sigh.
“Professor, if I have to chain myself to your desk in protest, leaving you to deal with me tired, hungry and smelling like God knows what every single day until I graduate, I’m not going to leave you alone until you accept my help. Seriously, save yourself the headache,” he said. Claire glared up at him. He was serious. He was freaking serious and she could see it in his eyes. He was just the type of jerk to deliver on his promise and if she didn’t give in she’d never be rid of him. But it was such a difficult situation! The logical part of her brain demanded she turn him down, that she insist he find someone else to bother. But, after having been yelled at by Dean Hughes yet again that morning, she couldn’t help but see the brat as her knight in shining armor. She needed his help but she knew it would kill her to take him up on his offer. What the heck could she do?
“And there’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”
“Short of a restraining order? No, not really. You see, Professor, here’s the thing, you need the help, I need the grade. Why not work together?”
“I don’t know? Why not do your classwork?” she retorted, folding her arms over her chest. Daniel shrugged a shoulder.
“Done,” he said and she gawked.
“I’m serious. I’ll do my classwork. I’ll stop interrupting your lectures and teasing you during class. But you have to let me help out with whatever you need. Deal?” he asked, a tad bit more enthusiastically than he’d hoped. He didn’t want it to be obvious that he wanted this more than anything. He wanted the chance to get to know her, to explore her brain the regular way, without use of his…abilities. He just had to get inside that head of hers, no matter what it took.
“Well…” She took a deep breath and hesitated a full twenty-seconds before agreeing. She didn’t look too happy but, even she couldn’t really deny she was in over her head, even if she wanted to. Her office was a total wreck, filled with messy stacks of paper, books, class brochures and a months worth of Starbucks cups. She could pretend she didn’t need him, but the proof was in the proverbial pudding. “Fine. So long as you stop acting like an idiot in my class. When would you have time to help out?”
“I’m usually free after class, but for you–”
“No,” she cut him off. Daniel raised a brow down at her. “If this is going to work out you have to stop this stupid flirtation game. Do you know what would happen to me if Dean Hughes even suspected I was attempting to come on to you? Do you even know what the policy is here? I would lose my job. And with my already less than stellar reputation, I’d probably never work in academics again,” she said then gave him a pointed look. There was fear in her eyes. A fear he really didn’t understand. She would lose her job, so what? It was just a job, right? “So, stop it. No more pretending to flirt.” If only she would acknowledge the fact that he wasn’t pretending. Daniel regarded her for several long seconds. He was attracted to her, that was a fact he couldn’t deny and, even though he had ulterior motives for taking the position, would he really be able to simply pretend those feelings didn’t exist? He may not have fallen head over heels the moment he laid eyes on her, but surely she felt even an ounce of what he did?
“Deal. I’ll stop…messing with you. Is that good enough?” he asked. Claire frowned, not understanding the ire in his voice.
“Fine. So long as you adhere to those rules we can work together after day classes have ended.”
“Great. What do you have for me?” he asked.
“Why don’t you head home for today?
“But you just said I can help–!”
“Look around you, Mr. Kang, there’s literally nothing you can do until I get this mess at least partially sorted out,” she cut him off, her arms rising and falling against her sides in frustration. “We’d just get lost in here and need a rescue team. You can help me out tomorrow, alright?” Daniel gave her an indecisive look, heaving another sigh before finally caving in.
“Fine,” she replied, watching the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a devious grin.
“See you tomorrow, then, Professor,” he said, his grin growing brighter as he tugged his bag higher on his shoulders and turned to leave. Claire sighed, the sound of the classroom door closing marking his departure, leaving her in silence.
“What the hell did I just get myself into?”
Like what you’ve read so far? Why not grab the feature length romance novel for just 99c on Amazon Kindleor the anywhere else eBooks are sold?
July 1st 2016 marks #IndiePrideDay, a day when the Indie Authors of the world unite to to offer a real alternative for readers and lovers of books by offering special discounts on their books. There is a huge Indie Author community out there and they’re determined to take indie books mainstream. What does this mean for you? Well author, Sharon Lipman is offering her paranormal romance novel, Bound to Blackwood for free this weekend! Yes, that’s right, a great book, totally free. A proud indie author herself, she’ll be supporting the movement on July 1st, and you can too. Download your copy of Bound to Blackwood now and follow the #IndiePrideDay trend on twitter for some more amazing indie books and discover some new-to-you authors. You won’t regret it!
Bound to Blackwood Blurb:
Would you surrender your
soul for the love of the King?
Lena, a vampire and a Guardian of the Order, has been honour-bound to protect
human souls all her life. Acting first and thinking second is what’s saved her
skin time and again in the war against the Fallen, but her disregard for orders
soon catches up with her when her boss is seriously injured. Forced to take
responsibility for her actions, Lena is thrust into the path of her very own
kryptonite; Thorn. The raw power of his soul calls to her and his mere presence
lights a fire within her that she cannot contain.
With Vampire magic waning and the race in crisis, can either of them afford to
ignore Nature’s call? If they do, the future of the race is in jeopardy. If
they don’t, they will both lose the most precious part of themselves. Their
Small, delicate hands butterflied across his chest as she leant forward to nuzzle his
neck. His hips arched towards her and one of her hands dipped lower. His cock
jumped as she ran her nails over his crotch, his jeans doing little to dull the
sensation. It was all he could do not to come there and then. And they still
had most of their clothes on. That needed to change. Right now.
As if reading his mind, Lena reached for his belt, then his fly. She lifted herself
off him to pull his jeans down his long legs. She damn near broke his ankles
when she wrenched his boots off and threw them halfway across the room. But the
look of pure hunger on her face as she raked her eyes up his body was its own
reward. If it meant he got to see that look again, he’d let her break every
fucking bone in his body.
She stood, staring at him, wearing just her tight combat trousers. And those boots.
Gods, he loved those boots.
She bent down to start tackling the umpteen buckles stretching from her ankles to
“Uh uh. Those stay on.”
Lena’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”
Thorn’s eyes sparkled as he stared at her. “I said, the boots stay on.”
More of an order than a statement, it sent a tantalizing shudder through her, making
her clench her thighs at the promise of what was to come.
“The boots stay on?” she asked, in case she’d misheard. She didn’t know Thorn
could be so playful. It excited her.
There was one small problem. “Haven’t you forgotten about these?” she
asked, tugging at her combats. She’d like to know how she was supposed to get
them off and keep the boots on.
Thorn came up off the bed. Towering above her, he grabbed the front of her trousers
and gave one hard yank. Lena wobbled forward but gasped as the fabric split at
the seams. One more pull and what was left of her uniform and her underwear
fell to the floor in tatters.
She stood there watching Thorn as he drank her in with hungry, golden eyes. His
gaze went up her body from her boots to her lithe legs and lingered at the top
of her thighs. I can be playful too,
she thought as she widened her stance, a coy grin pulling her mouth.
Thorn’s white-hot gaze shot to her face, his eyes boring into her. Such heat, such
Lena couldn’t stand it any longer. She reached into his dark hair and pulled him in
for a kiss. The kiss was hard, both their fangs fully extended, both needing,
each starving for the other.
Author Sharon Lipman Biography:
A huge fan of the
paranormal romance genre, Sharon Lipman started writing in her teens. It wasn’t
until she was in her thirties that she found a story she was desperate to
share. House Blackwood was born and Bound to Blackwood is her debut novel.
She was born in west London and grew up in leafy Surrey in south-east England.
A lover of all things British, except the weather, she now lives in Almeria,
southern Spain with her husband and an ever growing collection of dogs.
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