August is Indie Author Month!

Or at least it will be for me. There are a few indie authors that I’ve been meaning to get around to for awhile but just haven’t picked up for one reason or another. I’m dedicating this entire months worth of reading to only self-published Indie authors and I’m starting with the first two books in Kent Wayne’s “Echo” series.

I didn’t realize when purchasing this that it was actually a two novel combo so more “bang” for my buck! Literally more bang because these books are filled with fighting, explosions and battles featuring futuristic weapons that turn normal soldiers into TERMINATORS! Not literally, the author never says the word terminator but the soldiers do have augmented capabilities due to the battle gear they wear. 🙂

Wrestling Fantasy Micro fiction

I make my way to the ring as my riotous entrance music blares behind me. I’m pumped to finally be here, and my mind is full of ideas for the future. There are a polite number of claps as I stroll by the audience, but I don’t let their lack of enthusiasm throw me. They don’t know who I am yet, but they will. I pull the middle rope down and enter the squared circle completing a series of cartwheels until I’m on the other side. The crowd cheers at my surprise show of athleticism. My new life starts tonight, in this high school gym. I look across the ring at my opponent, the heel who is staring me down. She makes a show of looking unimpressed and yawns at my effort. The bell rings.

Book Review: The Price of Her

I just thought I’d celebrate my first 5 star review for this book! Check out what Kat said about it.

Kat J5.0 out of 5 stars The Handmaid’s Tale meets 1984Reviewed in the United States on July 21, 2021

I put this down once I finished and immediately said, “I want more.”
This is a story that kept me guessing and I still am. I want to know what happens next. The character development changed my mind so many times that by the end I was rooting for who I thought was the “bad guy” in the beginning. I started it thinking it would be a sort of run of the mill story, but no. I felt so captured by the book that I didn’t even notice 3 hours passing. This is a great story and I recommend it to anyone who wants to know horror, government intervention to the extreme, and conspiracy that goes all the way to the top.

“The Price of Her” is Book 1 in my Honor Bound Series. You can check it out here:

Just a Thank You!

I want to say thank you to those who have recently picked up a copy of my book, “The Price of Her.” Thank you for taking a chance on an unknown author. I was having a rough day today and I logged in to see that I’d sold a few books over the weekend! It cheered me and gave me back some steam to get through the rest of this dreary Monday.

I’m also dutifully working on the formatting for the kindle, so kindle version coming soon!


Zombie Apocalypse Vehicle Mods

Okay so if you were going to create a modified truck or SUV for the zombie apocalypse, what materials might you use? I’m just curious as to what types of things could be fused to the outside of a vehicle to provide protection? The purpose is for a scene in Book 3 I’m currently writing and I don’t want to simply use an SUV or army vehicle. I’d like for the vehicle to be unique but still bad ass like maybe an old muscle car with sheet metal welded all over it?

Dodge Challenger’s seem to be a popular choice so I don’t think I’ll be using that one. The point isn’t to wade through a sea of undead, but I do need it to be able to stand up to gunfire and be a fast getaway car. I’m leaning toward a Shelby GT500.

The Price of Her – Book Launch

“Is this real?” I asked when presented with the first printed copy of my my new book, “The Price of Her.” This is the first book in an intended series I’m calling, The Honor Bound Series.

I’ve been working on this book off and on since 2013. I’ve changed the entire format from the original third person POV to first person thanks to the advice of one of my beta readers. I went to a shooting range to practice firing various weapons so that I might accurately describe fire fights in my book. I also took an afternoon archery course for the same reason!

My patient critique partners have helped me along this journey, as well as an editor and a fantastic graphic designer who made this cover possible. Now available in print on Amazon (kindle version coming soon)!

Book Review: Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa

I received this book as a Christmas present last year having never heard of it or the author. The description sounded promising and I had high hopes for it. These hopes quickly dissolved into confusion. I applaud the idea behind “Memory Police” and the strange dreamy island of isolation where this story takes place. But for some reason, I couldn’t connect with the main protagonist. I wanted to cheer for her but nothing about her was particularly brave or endearing to me.

I guess I wanted more from her in the way of acts of rebellion. She did some small things that I hoped would add up and escalate to a big act of defiance.  I assumed that hiding others that were wanted by the police would somehow connect her with a rebellion and things would escalate from there. She even discovers that some citizens are immune to the “disappearances” of things and that her own mother was one of these special people. The protagonist makes some small attempts to retain her memories of items that have been previously disappeared with the help of her editor and love interest. All these attempts are made in vain as the protagonist slowly loses her memories of everything up to and including her own body parts.

I have to say the scene where she wakes up and suddenly doesn’t remember having a right arm was quite disturbing. The arm is still there of course, but since she has no memory of it, it’s not there for her. The entire rest of the population has suffered this same fate including her adopted dog who also hops around as if one of his front legs were missing. It’s strange and creepy in a way that I like, but I didn’t care for the ending or for the lack of fight in the main character.

You Know The Drill


I was sitting in German class when the siren started ringing. It was a familiar sound since the riots began a few weeks ago. Ten years ago it would’ve been used to signal a tornado touchdown in the area, but now it meant a riot.  There was no way of knowing exactly where it was happening. It might be in a lecture hall or the University Commons building. It could be all the way across campus a half-mile away or right next door.

“You know the drill class,” Professor Kurz instructed. He moved to lock the door and stuffed a chair under the handle as an added protection. HIs hands shook as he tried to unlock the filing cabinet and dropped the keys to the floor instead. He retrieved the gun but the way he held did not inspire confidence.

All the professors had recently undergone gun safety training and been issued a standard handgun for emergency situations like this. I hoped the professor had paid attention during the instruction.

There were only two girls taking Intermediate German II, myself and Leann. I suppose German language wasn’t as popular as Spanish or French. We took our places in the back of the room and the boys in the class formed a protective circle around us with their bodies. 

“It should never have gotten this bad,” he said. The tremor in his voice made my anxiety level rise. He looked at us undisguised fear. At that moment I thought the chance that he ran for it instead of staying to protect us was 50/50. “They should have closed the school until all this was sorted out.” 

My parents agreed with Professor Kurz but I’d been stubborn.”I live on campus, Mom, and my classes are right next door to the dorms. I’m not sick and neither is my roommate. All those riots are taking place in downtown Savannah, no one cares about Georgia Southern University.”

At the time it seemed logical. I knew that there were cases of LVN1 in other parts of the country and that people were angry about the loss of loved ones. Rioting and looting had started once the death toll got to a certain point but that was in places like New York, California or Chicago. Georgia as a whole hadn’t experienced much of the sickness so far and no one was causing trouble in Statesboro.

Except now they were.

Professor Kurz dialed a number on his cell phone and the operator answered just as shouting and doors slamming interrupted his response.

“Scheisse!” he swore

“911 What’s your emergency.” The woman on the other end of the phone asked.

Gunshots answered her and we all screamed in alarm. Leann reached out for my hand and we clutched each other. I tried to put on a brave face for her.

A cute curly-haired boy who normally sat near me in class turned around to reassure us. “Don’t worry Selena, I won’t let anyone take you.” He pulled something metallic out of his backpack and clicked off the safety. He seemed strangely more confident with the firearm than her professor. Junior ROTC maybe?

Broken glass, more shouting, and a solid thud as someone violently kicked the door to our classroom.

Professor Kurz fired through the doorway.

The Elegant Prison


As soon as we turned down Henry Street it was as if we’d crossed over into another country or maybe even another time period. The oak trees with their Spanish moss had been replaced by asphalt. An eight-foot-tall fence surrounded the perimeter with razor wire adorning the top. When we parked and walked up to the guardhouse I could hear a faint hum as we approached.

I’d heard the stories but nothing prepared me for the beauty of the S.A.F.E campus. It was a sprawling 7,000 acre green with several elegant buildings of various sizes and connecting walkways decorated with trees and shrubs. The design of the central building felt modern and European in contrast with the rest of the historic southern architecture of Savannah. It had amazing panoramic windows that looked inviting and I was amazed despite the fact that I know what went on behind those glistening walls.

“Don’t touch the fence,” my guardian warned unnecessarily.

The security at the entrance waved us through the gate and my guardian, who I referred to as simply bastard grabbed me by the sleeve of my sundress. “No fucking around in here today, okay?”

I had been in the program for only a year and hadn’t yet learned the value of “doing my duty.”

I shook my head. “I never asked for any of this.”

His grip tightened on my arm. “We rescued you, remember? You would have died if not for our intervention.”

“You have no way of knowing that.”

Bastard’s hand went back like he meant to strike me and I instinctively jerked away, he’d hit me so many times it was now an ingrained reflexive response.

He’d had never heard the phrase, “you get more flies with honey than vinegar,” because his approach was always vinegar.