Teaser Tuesday: SKIN

Ahhhh. Coffee by my side, warm golden retriever at my feet, kids at school, hubby at work and a whole day of writing and organizing things ahead of me. Nice.

Step one is to get some blog posts up and running. I spent most of the pre-Christmas build up getting Dependent's 2nd Edition back up and online, so I thought I'd give my new release some love today. 

Here in Virginia it's cold and snowy and as much as it's nice to see the snow, I'm missing warm days on the beach. I love my golden retriever foot-warmer, but hot sand is so wonderful! And a nice cold lemony drink....sigh. I'm also working on the sequel to Skin...and the northern Atlantic beaches aren't so warm in October and November. Brrr! No wonder I need that coffee.

PEI in summertime...

To fortify you on the cold, dark days of winter, here's a little beachy teaser from Chapter 1 of Skin:

...When I get to the edge, Declan’s puny frame is already knee deep in one of the pools, and all I can think about is how good the water will feel on my toes. Wet sand is not satisfying at all. I want the real thing.

Then, like it’s some big event that I’ve been waiting my whole life for, I step in. 

The water reacts. 

It’s like a brain slap. A sense of recognition hits me, and a roll of emotion I’m not ready for swells up from under my feet, shocking me right to my chest. I gasp and step back, almost tripping over my own feet in my haste. 

Hmmm...what's happening there? If you want to read more, and haven't already purchased my latest YA, you can find Skin on Amazon HERE. Don't forget to review it when you've finished!

Happy Tuesday!

Brenda

Tropical Tuesday - Coconut Beach Club, Antigua

Another storm is inbound to my part of Canada, and it's supposed to bring up to 25cm (about a foot) of snow with it. Fun, eh?  So in my never-ending attempt to drive myself crazy with photos of warm, sunny, sandy beaches, I thought I'd look for a place I could pick my own coconut. Googling coconut beach found me this lovely place--I could go with a day on this beach!


Spend the day at this beach? Sign me up!

It's a couples place- no kids allowed except during the Christmas holidays, so just peace and quiet and time in a hammock. You can choose to go with their all-inclusive plan or go with room only, and the rates are reasonable.

Ahh, the sea breezes and a swaying hammock...

You can find out more about the Coconut Beach Club, Antigua here. Or follow them on twitter at @CBCantigua .

So while I warm up my shovel, and batten down the hatches, I'll be daydreaming of coconuts on the beach. How about you? Only three more months til summer!

Brenda

Note: My Tropical Tuesday posts are mostly daydreams. I've not been to Antigua before, so I can't guarantee a perfect vacation here. Photos are taken from Coconut Beach Club's website.



 

 

Wintery Wednesday

Zeus and I (photo credit: Vicki Morrison)

As a result of this wickedly wintery weather we've been having, I've been working a lot on my WIP tentatively titled FROZEN. It's set in present-day rural Maine, in a snowmageddon type of storm, and the world's supply of oil is basically gone. I posted a small excerpt a few weeks ago.

Anyway, it's pretty easy to work on something like this when just walking outside freezes your nostrils shut. Today's high is in the -15F range. I've been soaking in the heat from the woodstove, working on this and having a rather good writing streak.  Thought I would share a bit more with you all. Keep warm and enjoy.

It’s so cold the snow makes that squeaking sound as I walk down the driveway. My nose hairs freeze together and my breath fogs the air, blurring the winter world before me. I’m thankful for Mom’s coat, which is too big but warm, and for my new mittens that I managed to knit myself with only a couple of dropped stitches. I'll never be a competitive knitter, if such a thing exists. Bomber barks and strains at his chain as I walk by, not to hurt me but because he’s not keen on being left alone outside.

“Sorry, Bomb,” I mutter through my already-damp wool scarf. “I’m late.” He whines once and then disappears through the crooked door of his shack. He’s not sticking around in the cold. Smart dog.

I trudge down to the road—squeak, squeak, squeak—trailing behind Frankie and Meadow, the twins, wishing I could stay home where it’s warm. No such luck. I pull my scarf further up around my face and scrunch my neck to escape the wind, mentally reviewing my list as I turn right and head down the hill to the stop. Fire stocked, check. Lights off, check. Animals fed, check. Door locked, check… the roaring of the bus behind me interrupts my list.

“Crap.”

Our bus driver is notorious for leaving kids in the dirt. “Crappity-crap.” I grasp my bag tightly, and sprint the last hundred feet to the stop—skidding to a halt at the same time as the bus. The door screeches even louder than the brakes, and old George the bus driver scowls as I follow my brother and sister on, slamming the door shut with a squeaky clunk. The whole bus could use a coat of oil. I can hear my dad’s voice in my head. It all comes down to oil now, Janie-girl. We don’t have it…and only those who know how to live without it will survive.

 

 

Brenda.

Snow Day!

Today is our first 'Snow Day' of the school year. In our house snow days are stay-in-your-pjs, playing-games-and-watching-tv, baking kind of days. They're sitting-by-the-fire-and-drinking-hot-chocolate kind of days.

Because travel is unsafe (there's a half of inch of ice on the roads--rather like a skating rink out there), all pre-planned activities are off until further notice. Who doesn't love a free day off?

One of the projects I'm currently working on, a YA pre-dystopian set in rural Maine, opens in a blizzard. A 'weather bomb' as they sometimes call it. What if our beloved snow day was set in a rural area when the world's oil had all but run out? What if there were no plows, salting trucks and snowmobiles to help us get out of the mess? I've tentatively entitled it 'FROZEN' and I'm about 16,000 words in. Here's an excerpt for your stormy-day reading pleasure...

He’s taller than me, almost three inches taller. He looks like Dad in many ways, just skinnier. Tall, dark hair and freckles. He twiddles a piece of timothy in his hands—hands that likely harvested that very piece of timothy. Hands that have seen more work than some of his friends will see in their entire lives.

“Do you think we’ll ever see Dad again?” he finally asks. I should have seen that coming. Of all of us, he understood Dad the best.

I look away, watching as Smoke paces in his stall, then puts his head back down, looking for more hay.

I don’t want to lie to Frankie. I love my little brother, and in some ways I’m the closest thing to Dad that he’s got right now.

“I don’t know,” I say quietly, and that’s the truth. I don’t know if he’ll survive whatever he’s thrown himself into. And if he does survive, I don’t know how he’ll be able to make it back to us. Anything that can cross the ocean needs oil to do it, and the government wouldn’t risk sending its soldiers in a wind-powered ship. At least I don’t think they would.

“You miss him a lot,” I say.

“Yah.” His voice does that pitch see-saw again.

I don’t reply. I miss Dad, but I’ve learned to live without him. Frankie misses him more, needs him more. How can I help a fourteen year old boy find his way? I’m just a mall-queen turned tom-boy. I put my arm around him and rest my head on his shoulder. Instead of leaning away, like a boy, he leans back…like a man.

We sit there listening to the animals chomping and squawking until the wind begins to blow.

 

Brenda :)