Newfoundland Fairies...

I'm so excited to finally be able to share this. For years I've been working on a teen fantasy series based on my childhood neighborhood, as well as a few of the legends surrounding it. My sister-in-law and I sat down and came up with the concept and character names and then kind of forgot about it. I'd worked on it in secret over the years in hopes of surprising her for her wedding with a physical copy however that didn't happen. I was a month or so too late but none-the-less, its in the editing stages!

I realize that in this day and age, fairies are about as realistic as vampires, werewolves and zombies - probably even less so considering the fact that you can find shows and movies about the other things and not so much about fairies, however, in my day - which wasn't that long ago, be nice! - we legitimately believed in them.

Being surrounded by woods, Shea Heights was shrouded in mystery, with plenty of room for kids to wander, get lost and draw their own conclusions. Not wanting to constantly be under the watchful eye of our parents and nosey neighbors, we'd retreat to the forests with our coats, sweaters or t-shirts turned inside out or with bread in our pocket - to ward off evil sprites of course - and to do the things that kids and  teenagers do, still hearing our parents and grandparents voices in our head, "Watch out for the fairies". I cant think of a time that we'd ever really sought them out, preferring to trust the adults when they told us stories about their relatives who'd gone missing for days, were pushed into wells or simply disappeared because of the little people.

A couple stories that stand out specifically to me were that of a perfectly healthy boy who'd gone out
for milk at his mothers request only to show up two years later with it in his hands and unable to speak a word. He'd walk past us in the street and we'd glance at him curiously, but always with caution. Another instance was of a young girl heading home from a party down the street from her house during a snow storm. She would continually walk toward the light over her front porch, just barely able to make it out from the blowing snow, but never reaching her destination. When her body was found the next morning, she'd worn a path on her front lawn from walking in circles. Others include aunts and uncles being found naked and stuck in a tree mumbling words about fairies and little people.

Whether or not the stories were told to us to simply scare us from wandering too far from home, the countless Google results that turn up when you type in Newfoundland Fairy Legends suggests other wise. My front lawn in the summer gets 'fairy rings' - mushrooms that grow in a circle - and despite being a fairly logical, educated adult, I still haul my kids back when they attempt to step in the middle.

'Don't let the fairies take you!' I say. ;)

Ultraxenopia by M.A. Phipps - Review

I LOVE connecting with other authors. It's nice to know that there are other people out there who are going through the same things you are - on a literary level of course. With that being said, M.A. Phipps came across my path through Google+ or Facebook (I cant remember) and charmed me from the start.

I offered to review her book, Ultraxenopia, with very little in the way of expectations. While I loved The Hunger Games, Divergent and The Matched Trilogy, I never really considered post-apocalyptic stories my thing, especially (I cant believe I'm about to say this...) one from an indie author. I'm sorry, but, there are authors out there that just shouldn't. Futuristic stories require a lot of imagination, research and a particular je ne sais quoi.

M.A. Phipps has all of these qualities.

I was hooked from the beginning.

September/ October were probably my busiest months this year. I had three weddings, all of which were in different parts of the country. I had to finish writing, editing, promoting Releasing Authority and then publish it. All of this time I was reading Ultraxenopia and trying everyday my hardest to read more. It hurt to put it down. Wynter had me enamored from the first page. I felt as if I were right there with her. As if I was her because of the authors ability to not only describe the setting and mood, but to make you believe it as well.

With a name like W.A.R., it would be hard not to assume that this girl was badass. At first I was simply waiting for it. I wanted to yell at her to get her shit together and quit flaking out but at the same time, I understood her struggle. When she did get it together, and finally met Ezra, I knew I was going to like her even more. They were a great team and the tension between them... Sigh. I love tension.

Without giving too much away, there is a scene close to the end in a building with the members of PHEONIX and a certain evil doctor that had me wondering if maybe M.A. Phipps had read one of my books. Maybe taken a piece from my mind. Anyone who's read anything from me knows that I love me some bat-shit crazy females, and that's exactly what Wynter is... but in the best way of course.

Lucky for me, I got to read this book in its original glory. CHBB publishing has picked up Ultraxenopia and its series to be re-published in January. I highly recommend that when it comes out, you read it. I cant wait to see what's in store for Wynter and Ezra... My heart hurts.





















You can connect with the author here:

www.facebook.com/authormaphipps
Twitter.com/authormaphipps
Www.goodreads.com/author/show/13682371.M_A_Phipps

  

So you're looking for book recommendations...?

People assume that because I am an author, I love books. I'm brimming with the knowledge of wonderful works of literary art. Well...

They are correct.

MY personal taste in book however is varied. I can enjoy fiction, non fiction, fantasy, historical... Literally (pun intended) any genre. My favorite obviously is romance. I love a good story about a girl and a guy coming together, doing the dirty, and then living happily ever after. I DESPISE books where the main character dies. Especially if said book is one in a trilogy or more. I kind of feel like if they die, it was all for naught. Am I right?

With that being said, here are some of my favorite books.

• Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
  
   

I'll be honest. Historical romances aren't really my thing. The long haired, brooding, bare-chested man and the helpless female.

Barf.

Outlander is nothing like that. Jamie is real and vulnerable (And a ginger...yumm). Claire has a filthy mouth and is as stubborn as a mule. This book was pushed on me by many fans of the series. I swear, when I said I hadn't read it, they would be pissed! It was really a matter of life and death that made me read this. I was scared. Another bonus for this book (Besides the men in kilts), is that its now a TV show! My days are ruined. I'm supposed to be homeschooling my daughter but all I want to do, is binge watch the show.

• The Virgin Cure by Ami McKay

This one doesn't fit the mold either. There is no love interest. Its actually pretty sad now  that I think about it (Don't worry, it has a happy ending!).

It's set in the tenements of lower Manhattan in the year 1871. As a young child, Moth’s father walked out. When she turned twelve, her mother sold her as a servant to a wealthy woman, with no intention of ever seeing her again.
These betrayals lead Moth to the wild, murky world of the Bowery, filled with house-thieves, pickpockets, beggars, sideshow freaks and prostitutes, where eventually she meets Miss Everett, the owner of a brothel simply known as “The Infant School.” Miss Everett caters to gentlemen who pay dearly for companions who are “willing and clean,” and the most desirable of them all are young virgins like Moth.
Through the friendship of Dr. Sadie, a female physician, Moth learns to question and observe the world around her, where her new friends are falling prey to the myth of the “virgin cure”–that deflowering a “fresh maid” can heal the incurable and tainted. She knows the law will not protect her, that polite society ignores her, and still she dreams of answering to no one but herself. There’s a high price for such independence, though, and no one knows that better than a girl from Chrystie Street.

• The girl you left behind by Jojo Moyes

Swoon. My favorite. I've fallen in love with Jojo Moyes because of this book. If you've read any of my previous posts, you'll already know this. Her characters aren't described as uber sexy, hunky, or gorgeous. They are real.

It takes place in Paris, 1916 (I think I may be lying about my stance on historical romances...). Sophie Lefèvre must keep her family safe while her adored husband, Édouard, fights at the front. When their town falls to the Germans in the midst of World War I, Sophie is forced to serve them every evening at her hotel. From the moment the new Kommandant sets eyes on Sophie’s portrait—painted by her artist husband—a dangerous obsession is born, one that will lead Sophie to make a dark and terrible decision.
Almost a century later, Sophie’s portrait hangs in the home of Liv Halston, a wedding gift from her young husband before his sudden death. After a chance encounter reveals the portrait’s true worth, a battle begins over its troubled history and Liv’s world is turned upside all over again.

• The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

In this mesmerizing debut, a competition between two magicians becomes a star-crossed love story.

The circus arrives at night, without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within nocturnal black and white striped tents awaits a unique experience, a feast for the senses, where one can get lost in a maze of clouds, meander through a lush garden made of ice, stand awestruck as a tattooed contortionist folds herself into a small glass box, and gaze in wonderment at an illusionist performing impossible feats of magic.

Welcome to Le Cirque des Rêves. Beyond the smoke and mirrors, however, a fierce competition is underway - a contest between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood to compete in "a game," in which each must use their powers of illusion to best the other. Unbeknownst to them, this game is a duel to the death, and the circus is but the stage for a remarkable battle of imagination and will.

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– People who viewed The Night Circus ultimately bought –

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• Beautiful Disaster By Jamie Mcquire

This one is good if you were a fan of the fifty shades books. Travis is kind of a stalker.

The new Abby Abernathy is a good girl. She doesn’t drink or swear, and she has the appropriate number of cardigans in her wardrobe. Abby believes she has enough distance from the darkness of her past, but when she arrives at college with her best friend, her path to a new beginning is quickly challenged by Eastern University’s Walking One-Night Stand.

Travis Maddox, lean, cut, and covered in tattoos, is exactly what Abby wants—and needs—to avoid. He spends his nights winning money in a floating fight ring, and his days as the ultimate college campus charmer. Intrigued by Abby’s resistance to his appeal, Travis tricks her into his daily life with a simple bet. If he loses, he must remain abstinent for a month. If Abby loses, she must live in Travis’s apartment for the same amount of time. Either way, Travis has no idea that he has met his match.

• The Vampire Academy series by Richelle Mead

If you've seen the movie for this one, please ignore it. When I first heard that it was being released, I was so excited! However, that excitement quickly turned to disappointment. It was so bad! The books however were amazing. I loved them and at the same time I was reading these, I was addicted to true blood, therefore I pictured Dmitri as Eric... Know what I'm saying? ;)

St. Vladimir’s Academy isn’t just any boarding school—it’s a hidden place where vampires are educated in the ways of magic and half-human teens train to protect them. Rose Hathaway is a Dhampir, a bodyguard for her best friend Lissa, a Moroi Vampire Princess. They’ve been on the run, but now they’re being dragged back to St. Vladimir’s—the very place where they’re most in danger.

Rose and Lissa become enmeshed in forbidden romance, the Academy’s ruthless social scene, and unspeakable nighttime rituals. But they must be careful lest the Strigoi—the world’s fiercest and most dangerous vampires—make Lissa one of them forever.

 

 

A new take on book reviews...

It's blaringly obvious I have an addiction to books. I read like I breath and write like I exhale. I am so passionate about good books that I want everyone to read them too. The problem is, is that book reviews are typically boring. You're not going to listen to me when I tell you how amazing Outlander is, not unless millions of people tell you and it gets its own show will you believe that there is something there worth knowing.

I've been wanting to get into reviewing books for a while. I may as well, since I read them so much. Being an author myself, I know how much of an impact they can have but, true to my nature, I don't want to be like everyone else. I want MY reviews to be special. I haven't really figured it out yet but I have a couple of idea's. The question is, what draw's you to a book? Is it a great cover? Do you only read books that are being turned into a movie? Is the back synopsis enough? What would encourage you to read a book, based on a review?

For me, I admit, I totally judge a book by its cover. If there is a cheesy man with hair longer than the womans holding her in an embrace that says, 'I want to murder you' more so than 'I'm madly in love with you', than its game over for me.

Same can be said for the synopsis. I like to think I'm pretty open minded. I'll read anything and likely enjoy it. Have you read The Ocean at the end of the lane by Neil Gaiman? It was the first book I read from this author and totally wasn't expecting a worm-type-thing in the bottom of a boys foot to turn into a poltergeist (yes, I'm serious)



. Nonetheless... I enjoyed the book. The imagery was vivid and the flow was smooth. The author really brought the setting to life and made the whole thing believable. It was a stretch for me, not my typical book but the synopsis sold me.

Lastly, I definitely read books that friends recommend to me, unless that friend has shit taste then I probably know to steer clear. Ha! This was totally the case with Outlander. Again, its not my typical go-to type book - Historical romance...Snooooore! - however, like I've said on my Facebook page, followers of this series are like a cult! They are so passionate about Jamie and Claire that they will literally make you feel bad for not reading it. I was totally bullied into it and now, that I'm done, I'm grateful for that.

MY friends...

I haven't written a blog in a while! The truth is, logging onto this, seeing my post about Matt and being reminded of that day, forced a huge lump into my throat and into my chest where it sat heavily, altering my breathing and making me slightly panicked.

I was sad.

I'm still sad, however...

His passing has opened my eyes in a way.

He was such a good friend. He had his faults, like all of us, but ultimately, I've never known someone who wanted to so badly to be good. He'd stay up late with you just chatting if you were bored or if you made a comment on Facebook that he deemed somewhat negative, he'd be the first to send you a message, asking if everything was ok. He struggled with social anxiety but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to hang out with the crowd once in a while. He loved his friends and family and it disappointed him to no end when he thought he'd upset or hurt them.

The day we found out that he was gone, all of our old gang reconnected in a huge group message on Facebook and it made me realize that regardless of how much time has passed, what goings-on have happened in your life, or how much you've spoken over the last few years, real friends are there. They always are. You can pick up with each other as if a single days hasn't passed since you'd last hung out. I'm not sure if I'm a minority here when I say that my friends in particular are amazing at this. I live on the other side of the country from the ones I grew up with. We are from a small community (Shea Heights, St. John's, Newfoundland) that prides itself not only on our rough and tough reputation, but on your ability to help each other out in  times of needs. When a house burns down, Shea Heights residents chip in and help the family rebuild. There are dances and bottle drives and fundraisers All. The. Time. For Matt alone, a gofundme account was set up to help his family out with the funeral costs and whatnot and they raised nearly $15, 500 in two days! I think that maybe because of the people my friends were raised with, the need to reach out and help people who need it, or to just be a decent person is strong.

It sucks being this far away from everyone and I find that in the bigger cities, its harder to make lasting friendships. Despite that, I realize now that there really is no excuse for losing contact with the people who matter most to you. It takes three seconds to text someone and say, "How are you doing?" I HATE talking on the phone but that shouldn't stop me from reaching out. Matt helped me, and a few of his other friends with that. Assuming that someone is ok, confident or happy is selfish. Tell people you love them. Your friends, your family, your husband, your wife... They all need to hear it.

I'm lucky enough to be surrounded with people who do this.

With that being said, those of you who are reading this, Thank you. For being my friend and for caring about me. For reaching out when you think I am down or sick. And simply for making me laugh and asking about my day, my books, my kids and husband. You're my whole world and I love you all.

Especially Niki... who encouraged me to write this today. I lalalalove you Lola. ;)

Dear Matt...

Dear Matt,

Can you even read this? Where are you? I imagine its kind of like another dimension, not a destination. I think you're still here, you can see us, hear us. Its just your body that's gone.

I have so many questions.

Was it worth it? Do you feel better? Are you still you? Was this your plan all along or was it a spur of the moment kind of thing. You didn't write me back on Thursday. Did you finish that poem you were telling me about?

Can you see how much you are loved now? Did we tell you enough when you were here? Did we tell you how smart you are were? How happy you make made us? How funny, amazing, talented and handsome you are  were? My god, you are were handsome.

Did you change your mind just as it was too late? Did it hurt?

Do you think its possible to become dehydrated from crying? Am I an asshole for writing this? Am I too sad? Not sad enough?

I miss you today.

Was there anything I could have done differently that would have kept you here? Did you see the group conversation on Facebook yesterday with all of our old gang? I'm grateful that that happened.

I'm grateful to you for a lot of things. Your ability to crack me up with your disgusting, offensive jokes. You are were a bad bastard.

Your listening skills.

For opening my eyes to the fact that depression and addiction doesn't have a single face. There are no characteristics. You were funny. You laughed. You were in great shape and athletic. You were a great friend and wouldn't hurt a mouse. You prayed. You loved your family. You cared about your appearance.

For New years. Staying up and chatting and keeping me company.

For walking out of your house when you saw me last September and hugging me.

For that night with your brothers Jeep. I promise, I'll never tell him how it really got beat up.

For introducing me to Root beer and Rum. So good.

For always messaging me. Texting me. Opening up to me with your deepest, darkest secrets. For sharing your journal with me and your poems. Did I tell you how talented you are were?

For being honest when I knew it was hard for you. I'm glad you trusted me enough to show me the worst.

I hope wherever you are you feel relieved. I don't know anyone who struggled like you did. I hope nobody is saying anything bad about you.

How's your pop handling this?

I didn't give you that drawing you wanted. You didn't get the tattoo.

Did I tell you about the dream I had of you as an old man, terrorizing the retirement home in a custom wheel-chair that you built to reach speeds of over 100km/hour with those shitty, ugly matte rims you wanted to put on your car?

I wanted you to get married, have kids. I wanted you to do the public speaking like we talked about, to finish your books like we talked about.

I wanted you to finally be happy. I hope that wherever you are now, you are.

I'll miss you forever...

I'm not typical...

Right now is usually my designated writing time. I devote these next few hours to my books while my husband cleans away supper dishes and the kids play at the park or in their rooms however, upon procrastinating and checking my Facebook, I see these videos about girls and how they like to snuggle. They want a man to hold them when they're crying. They want to cuddle after sex. They want romance and someone to watch hours upon hours of Netflix with.

I kind of look at them like, are you insane? I'm probably going to get a bit of slack for this and I should definitely mention that there is NOTHING wrong with girls like this. As I said, I think its typical for women...right? I just cant seem to grasp why? Don't get me wrong. I love my husband. We are junior high sweethearts and have been dating since I was thirteen years old. He is the love of my life, an amazing father, husband and person. As I type this, he's making supper for our kids after just vacuuming the floor and cleaning out the garage. I'm pretty lucky! I know not many men do this and again, I wonder why? Is it because their women don't think they can handle it? It's not their job?

Anyway, back on track. I love time to myself. All day long I am spent tending to kids (I look after a whole bunch of the neighborhood children during the day while their parents are working). My house is (usually) immaculate. I do hair sometimes in the evenings and write my book too. I'm exhausted. The last thing I want to do is give my time over to somebody else every night. I need to turn off my brain, replace it with some kind of mind-numbing TV show. I don't have the mental energy left to spend hours chatting about how my day was, what I want to do over the weekend, my goals in life or the trials and tribulations of the Buddhist Monks.

Occasionally, I want to go out. I want romance (I write romance books for God sakes) however the minute my husband starts calling me baby girl, buying me $90 bouquets of flowers, or having Josh Groban serenade me, he is getting a smack up the side of his head. Romance to me is surprising me with a Frappuccino, giving me a foot rub or volunteering to do the dishes without me having to beg or prostitute myself out to him (If you do the dishes, i'll...Wink Wink). It kind of sucks. Billy is great at sweet talk. He throws that shit around like beads at Mardi Gras. In turn, I usually laugh in his face. I mean, I appreciate it. If he were to stop doing it I'd be upset, I'd miss it however I just cant take him seriously when he's talking like Barry White and is all like, "You know baby, If I had to choose between breathing and loving you, I'd use my last breath to say I love you." Blah! Gross!

Maybe this is TMI ( I know this is TMI) but I don't get it how after sex, girls want to cuddle?! Man, NO! I'm sweaty and exhausted. I've got to get up in a few hours. Roll over that way, I'll roll that way and our feet can snuggle a bit. How's that? I just gave you my everything. I told you I loved you and showed you the most affection anyone is capable of showing. I followed through on that deal we made yesterday for you doing the dishes. It's time to sleep. I DEFINITELY do not want to stay up all night talking. We had supper time for that. We have from the time you get home from work up until the time we go to bed to do that. Don't save it all up until 10:30 on Tuesday night so that we can talk about our ambitions in life...? Does anyone actually enjoy that?

This guy knows the way to my heart

Don't get me wrong. I believe that you need to build your man up, as he does you but rather than being the kind of woman who looks woefully into my husbands eyes, bats my eyelashes shedding a single tear and says, "Darling, the stars in the nights sky don't shine nearly as bright as your eyes" or "You are truly my soul mate and I want to spend every single breath with you" I'm more likely to say (as I lick his nostril) "Marriage is forever..." in my creapiests whisper and with the widest eyes I can muster or "Man, Billy, your ginger beard is what dreams are made of. I want to frolic in its magnificent-ness. "

Lastly, I feel like I'm an anomaly because of catty-ness. Its a real thing! My mother, I love her to pieces, she's an amazing woman but she believes that everything everyone says is  a jab at her. And I know she's not the only one! "Sally told me today my shirt was beautiful. She said she had one just like it but it was too big so she exchanged it.... What do you think she meant by that? She's calling me fat isn't she? Who does she think she is?" or, "My boss at work today told me I was doing an amazing job and out of all his employees, he values me the most. Can you believe him? Mocking me like that?"

I'm not saying it doesn't happen. It does. Women are crazy. I, however, honestly don't have the mental capacity to come up with that shit. And when someone says something to me, and if they are being catty, I wouldn't catch on right away anyways, unless they outright said, "Ashley, you're a disgusting bitch and I hate you."  I don't think like that.

Sigh, Don't even get me started on my taste in music. Sure, Taylor Swift is lovely. Katy Perry, great! But... is there something wrong with me because I love a good Rob Zombie tune? Is any other female still upset that My Chemical Romance is dead? Is it ok that the most used playlist on my Songza app is Pole dancing Rock?! Am I alone in all of this ladies? Am I too butch?
I just don't know anymore...

Sorry for any females I've offended by this...because that's another thing we do. Get offended over someone else's ideas....

My kind of romance