Showing posts with label upcoming release. Show all posts
Showing posts with label upcoming release. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 20, 2019

Guerrilla Grannies and Upcoming Releases

Happy Wednesday, everyone! Like I said in my last post, I'll only be around the blog to discuss new and upcoming books. Well, I'm here! I have so many things in the works right now. Let's not get bogged down in leader fodder. Grab your coffee or tea, and jump right in!

My releases for the next few months are as follows:
Gray is the New Black - Guerrilla Grannies - Mission One -- December 9, 2019
'Twas the Night Before - A Magical Holiday Romance Anthology -- December 17, 2019
Vanquished - Angles and Vampires - Book One -- January 21, 2020
Pushing Up Posies - Guerrilla Grannies - Mission Two -- February 20, 2020
Breaking Bad-er - Guerrilla Grannies - Mission Three -- April 8, 2020

Here are the covers! Aren't they prettiful?


I have Diablerie, book two of the Angels and Vampires series, halfway done, and Breaking Bad-er is also halfway there. I'll be finishing the planned Guerrilla Grannies books first, and then I'll let you know when Diablerie will release.

Anyway, about Gray is the New Black and why I wrote it.

As many of you may know, I lost my mother a year ago in September. She LOVED The Golden Girls and Designing Women. I thought: Why not bring a bit of Charlie's Angles into the mix? and my Grannies series was born. I had the pleasure of reading my mom the first five chapters of Gray while she was sick in bed. She laughed so hard she lost her breath. Yeah, I've been working on that book for that long. I fell into a bit of a rut when she died, and I ended up writing Manipulation instead of finishing Gray. Every time I read that book, I'm reminded of her. It's both a good and a bad thing.

I miss her like crazy. She was the one I ran all my ideas past, and she was always the first to get a book I was working on.

That pug on the front of the book is featured heavily in the story. His name is Biscuit, and he was a real pug that belonged to a very good friend of mine. He passed not long before my mom did. To help ease the pain, I put him in a book so my friend would have a little piece of him forever.

Anyway, before I depress you some more, if you'd like to read chapter one of Gray, you may do so on my website here. If you're a subscriber to my newsletter, you'll get something really special this Friday, too.

If I don't talk to you before Thanksgiving, please have a wonderful holiday!

Until next time, WRITE ON!

Jo

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Book Excerpt #2 - Provocation - Pen Pals and Serial Killers - Story Two

Happpppy Thursdaaaaaay, everyone! I'm so freaking pumped! Provocation is now sitting at 40k, and I'm nearing the end of this harrowing tale. You're all going to love this one. Today's excerpt is chapter 2, but I'm changing a bit of the language to make it safe for work, so the actual book won't be quite as tame as this. Not sorry! *grin* I'm gonna start by telling you a little about this chapter, and how it came to be, and then we'll move on to book details and the excerpt! Ready? Grab your coffee, or tea, and let's get going!

Provocation was meant to be written solely from Victoria's POV. When she started thinking about the past, her mother jumped in and wagged her finger at me. "I need my story to be told, too. It's more important than you realize," she said.

Okaaaaay. Yeah. I'm just the writer. These characters own this story, ya know? So, I ditched everything I'd written up to that point and started over, giving dear Jane her voice. Oh, what a voice it turned out to be! I think you're going to love what she made me to do this book. I realize now that it's the only way I could've told this story and have you understand fully.

So, I send a huge round of applause and thanks to Jane Ward for forcing me to give her a voice.

I hope you enjoy! Kindly remember this hasn't been edited yet. Raw! LOL  If you missed it, the first excerpt can be found here.

Book details:

Title: Provocation - Pen Pals and Serial Killers - Story Two
Author: Jo Michaels
Genre: Psychological Thriller
Length (guessing): ~ 60k
Release Date: Spring, 2018

Blurb:

Doctor Victoria Ward has been killing men for over thirty years. Her victims all have one thing in common: they’re abusive. Righteousness is a close companion—it helps her sleep at night—and she holds the virtue closely as she defends the innocent, upholding the law when it won’t rise to protect those who need it most. When she meets a young girl named Kelly, and follows her down a twisted path of deception, Doc Ward finds herself face-to-face with a ghost from her past. Never before has she wavered in her resolve—but can she defend another against someone she loves?

~~~

BEGIN EXCERPT

~~~



Chapter 2


Jane

“Mommy! Come look!”
Jane stood in the kitchen, her hands covered in flour, splotches of white dappling her apron, too. She turned and smiled, wincing with the movement. “Just a second, Vicki. Mommy’s got to clean up first.”
“Hurry, hurry!”
Laughing, she rinsed her hands and followed her daughter out the door, dishtowel flapping. “What is it, baby?”
Vicki gestured to a huge pile of rocks in the middle of the driveway, mud oozing down the tower’s sides, twigs sticking out at odd angles. She planted her small fists on her hips and lifted her chin. “I built a house! Just like Daddy does!”
Panic blazed through Jane at the speed of a supersonic jet. If Hank came home and saw… If he had to clean or move… No way could his truck get past that monstrosity, and it would probably rip the oil pan a new asshole in the process.
Her daughter’s face fell. “What’s wrong, Mommy?” Tears built in her eyes. “Don’t you like it?”
Shaking but smiling, Jane lifted her wrist to check the time as she answered, “I love it, baby.” Shit. He’ll be home in twenty minutes. No time. “Now, why don’t we get it cleaned up so Daddy can get up the driveway when he comes home?”
“Noooooooo! I wanna show it to Daddy, too!” Vicki wailed.
As the seconds ticked by, Jane’s heart thudded harder in her chest. She knelt and looked Vicki in the eyes. “I can’t even tell you how proud I am of you and how special this beautiful house is to me. Right now, though, I need you to be a big girl and help Mommy move it so Daddy doesn’t break his truck by running over it. You built it so big and so strong, not even his big ole truck could get past it.”
A giggle.
“That’s my girl. Now, could you please go get your brother and tell him to bring a shovel and wheelbarrow and come help?”
A nod.
“Thank you! Run! Go fast!”
Vicki sped across the yard, pigtails bouncing.
Jane turned to survey the pile and lifted her wrist. Fifteen minutes. There’s no way. Slinging the dishtowel over her shoulder, she plunged her hands into the mess, throwing the rocks as hard and as far as she could, praying none of them were found by the bush hog.
A few minutes later, Grant flew around the side of the house, pushing a wheelbarrow with a shovel in it. When he saw the rock pile, he asked, “Vicki do this?”
Jane nodded, moisture pooling on her bottom lids.
“Mom, why can’t you just explain it to her?”
“She’s too little to understand, Grant.”
“I’m not a baby!” Victoria yelled. “I’m six!”
Her brother brought his face within an inch of hers. “Then why do you act like one? Doing things like this!”
“I did it for Mommy and Daddy!” Her plump cheeks quivered, and tears dripped down to her chin. Pressing her lips together, chin jutting forward, she stomped to the rock pile and kicked it.
“It’s wonderful, Vicki. Calm down. We just have to get it moved before Daddy gets home, okay?” Jane could feel her patience wearing thin. They needed to get busy. She checked her watch and cursed silently. Ten minutes. “Okay, let’s get this moved!”
Grant and Vicki worked on loading the wheelbarrow and spreading rocks over the driveway while Jane continued to pitch them toward the woods. It was a brutally hot West Virginia day, and by the time they’d demolished the pile, she was wringing wet and nearly out of time.
“Okay. You two go play on the swing set. I’ll call you when supper’s ready. Dump these by the cellar house, and put the wheelbarrow back for me?”
Both the children gave her a quick hug, Vicki jumped into the cart on top of the rocks, and Grant pushed as he ran.
Arm shaking, Jane glanced at her watch before grabbing the shovel and sprinting toward the house. Two minutes. She put the shovel by the door, flew down the hall while stripping off her dress and apron, and raced to the closet. Dirty clothes went in the hamper, and a new dress and apron were in place in a moment. In the bathroom, she carefully patted her face with a cool rag, removed any dirt smudges, and smoothed her hair.
One minute. Roaring sounds came from the driveway, forcing her heart rate into the stratosphere. She had to be back in that kitchen when he came in, up to her elbows in something food related.
“Honey, I’m home!” Hank sauntered through the door and dropped his tool belt on the floor before holding his arms open wide.
“How was your day, dear?” Jane asked as she kissed him on the cheek and let him pull her in for a hug, careful to keep her flour-covered hands held high.
He looked down at her and stared, brows pulled together, like he was trying to work something out.
Fear’s icy black tendrils snaked around her. He knows… “Hank?”
A wide grin broke out on his face, and he tapped her nose. “You have flour all over you, but you’re so beautiful.”
Jane’s face got hot as relief flooded her. She smiled and kissed him again. Let him think it’s because he flattered me.
“Somethin’ smells good,” he said.
“It’s a deer loin. I’ve been roasting it all afternoon.” She moved away from him and went back to her task.
“What’s for desert?”
“Blackberry pie. I’m about to get it in the oven. I know how you like it hot.” No thought required, her hands skillfully rolled the pie crust out on the counter, flipped it over the rolling pin, and settled it over the dish.
“I do love hot pie.”
“Why don’t you go wash up? Supper will be on the table by the time you get back.”
With a grunt, he left.
Jane’s eyes slid closed, and she inhaled and exhaled, relief forcing hot air through her lips.
By the time he returned, she had the table set, pie in the oven, the children washed and seated, and piping hot food ready and waiting to be consumed.
His eyes flitted to his place, and he frowned.
She leapt from her chair, apologized, and fixed his glass of whiskey. Stupid! How could you forget? Hands shaking, causing the ice to clatter on the sides of the glass, she put the drink down and returned to her seat.
He picked it up and took a long draw, breathing heavily as the stress of the day whooshed out.
Everyone sat in silence and waited. It was several minutes before he spoke.
“Let’s get this over with.” One meaty paw extended on either side, grasping the hands of his wife and son, Hank led the prayer. “Amen.”
Jane filled his plate first then tended the children. Her hands were still shaking. No way would he let that slip up about the drink go unpunished. Question was: Would it be sooner or later? As she pondered, she worried for the children, especially Grant. He’d grown bolder over the previous year, and his last attempt at intervention damned near put him in the hospital.
They ate quietly, and Jane refilled Hank’s glass twice during the meal.
An odd smell infiltrated her nose as she was putting another piece of cornbread on Grant’s plate. Once again, terror gripped her as she realized what was happening. She sprang from her chair and ran for the kitchen, jerking the oven open, grabbing a dishtowel at the same time.
Her beautiful latticed pie was dark brown on top. Burned. Ruined. She would pay dearly. That was two mistakes. No amount of rutting would be enough; Hank would demand flesh.
“Burned that pie?” His voice floated through the air like an ominous shadow—threatening, carrying with it the promise of pain.
Tears carved their way free and raced to her chin. No. She wouldn’t let him see her like that. That’s what he wanted. Inhaling, she put the pie on the counter, threw down the dishtowel, wiped her face with the back of her hands, and slunk back to her chair. “I did. I’m sorry. I just forg—” His forearm collided with her face, and she fell backward, head slamming against the wood floor. Stars exploded in her vision.
“Stupid woman! You can’t even bake a freaking pie! What good are you?”
Instantly, Vicki starting crying.
“Go to your rooms!” He roared.
Both children fled.
Only Vicki paused at the doorway, looking back at her mother with wide, sad eyes full of tears. Then the child scurried away.
Each time Hank’s fist or foot collided with Jane’s body, she gasped. Insults fell on deaf ears, and she still held in tears she refused to let him see.
Finally, after he’d worked his rage out on her already tender frame once again, he collapsed on the couch. “Why do you make me do this? Why can’t you get it right? Just once.”
“I’m sorry, Hank.” Her voice sounded tinny and disconnected, far away and hollow. Nearly unrecognizable to her own ears.
“Yes. Yes, you are. You’re one sorry piece of crap. But I love you. I don’t wanna have to beat you to make you do right.” He stood up and walked toward the bedroom. “Clean this craphole up. When you’re done, come and tend to your husband’s needs.”
Vibrations from his feet striking the floor radiated through her brain. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. She could only be.
I am nothing.
Vicki’s door was partially open, and one eye could be seen through the sliver of a crack.
A single tear slipped down Jane’s face.


~~~

END EXCERPT

~~~

What do you think? Excited yet?

Well, that's all for today, folks! Until next time, WRITE ON!

Jo

Friday, January 19, 2018

Book Excerpt - Provocation - Pen Pals and Serial Killers - Story Two

Happy Friday, everyone! Well, today was supposed to be a guest post, but no one wanted to write one! Ha! So you lovely people get an excerpt from my upcoming release! Oh, happy day! Grab your coffee or tea, get comfy, and let's get going.

First, info about the book. Kindly remember this hasn't yet been edited. I'm nearly 30k deep, so heading toward the end.

Title: Provocation - Pen Pals and Serial Killers - Story Two
Author: Jo Michaels
Genre: Psychological Thriller
Length (guessing): ~ 60k
Release Date: Spring, 2018

Blurb:

Doctor Victoria Ward has been killing men for over thirty years. Her victims all have one thing in common: they’re abusive. Righteousness is a close companion—it helps her sleep at night—and she holds the virtue closely as she defends the innocent, upholding the law when it won’t rise to protect those who need it most. When she meets a young girl named Kelly, and follows her down a twisted path of deception, Doc Ward finds herself face-to-face with a ghost from her past. Never before has she wavered in her resolve—but can she defend another against someone she loves?

BEGIN EXCERPT
~~~~~~~~~~


Chapter 1

Victoria
Splinters of wood on the corner of the table curl up and away. They seem to be trying to escape the acrid stench of whiskey as much as Victoria is. Her father’s face is inches from her own, forcing the putrid smell through the air as he screams.
She winces when dirty fingernails bite into the soft flesh of her upper arm, and she grinds her teeth against the pain as it mingles with the ever-present terror. It’s better this way. Her mother is saved from enduring another round of Daddy’s wrath…
***
“And then he was hitting me again.”
Victoria came back to the present, returning her attention to the patient on the couch. “How long has this been going on, Shelley?”
“He doesn’t do it all the time, you know?”
“How long?” Pressing the young woman might not have been the best idea, but duration was something that needed adding to the notes.
Nibbling on an already ragged thumbnail, Shelley answered, “Since our wedding day.” She whirled around. “But he doesn’t mean to! James is a good guy; he just has these moments.”
Little tears appeared on the yellow legal pad as Victoria wrote.
~~~
Patient has nubs for fingernails—shows distress. Likely cause is horrific encounters with abusive husband. Bruises on forearms outline as fingers. Prescribing anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications. See entry in med script log book 4581.034—S. Whitaker.
~~~
“And he always apologizes afterward, right? Maybe cries?” It was obvious where the discussion was going, and she wanted nothing more than to rip James Whitaker’s face off. Instead, she pressed her lips together in a tight smile.
Shelley was nodding, her eyes brightening like an excited child’s. “He’s so loving. He really doesn’t mean to do it. I make him so angry when I screw things up.”
Rather than squash the newfound lightness, Doctor Ward gave a tight smile, walked to her desk, and picked up a prescription pad.
~~~
Effexor – 500mg 1x per day
~~~
“I’d like for you to take these.” Ripping off the first one and handing it over, she wrote the second.
~~~
Xanax – 2mg 2x per day
~~~
She scribbled her signature on the bottom, and that one was given over as well.
Shelley squinted at the squares of paper. “Do you really think I need these, doc?”
“I’m not sure, but I’d like you to try them. They may help take the edge off.” Or at least help you get through the next couple of weeks. Still smiling, Victoria pulled her chair across the room and turned it so she could see the woman. “Tell me about your wedding night.”
Shelley’s eyes widened. “I… I uh…”
“It’s okay. No one will ever know what we talk about in here. You’re safe with me.” Bastard already has her terrified to tell anyone what really happens. Victoria felt her face get warm as anger vibrated up her spine, but she kept her features soft.
After a deep breath in and out, Shelley closed her eyes and spoke quietly. “We’d gotten a hotel room in a swanky place, and he’d bought tickets to a show. Since we were early, we decided to go to the hotel bar for a glass of champagne—you know, to celebrate—before we went to get something to eat.”
She chuffed, and a small smile appeared on her face. “At dinner, we had a bottle of wine. I’m not a big drinker, so by the end of the meal, I was feeling pretty good.” Her face turned bright red, and she twisted her fingers until they turned white. “We got our seats, and that’s when my stomach decided it wasn’t happy with all the alcohol I’d put into it. I knew I needed a bathroom—and fast.”
Tears suddenly poured down her face. “I got up, but I was too late. There was barely enough time for me to make it to the stairwell outside the main hall. It was all over me, my dress, and my shoes.
“I didn’t know where I was, so I wandered until I found a restroom. After I cleaned myself off, I found my way outside and went back in through the main entrance.” Snot ran out of her nose, and she sniffed. “S… sorry. I…”
Doctor Ward handed over a wad of tissues. “It’s okay. Take your time.”
Several nose blows later, Shelley nodded. Her voice had gotten much louder. “I knew I smelled awful. I mean, who wouldn’t? But I made my way back to my seat anyway.” Fingers that had been clutched together flexed open and closed, vibrating.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded but was breathing heavily. “It’s just hard to think about, you know?”
“I do. Take your time.” Malice brewed, bubbled, and burned inside the doctor; she had an idea of where the story was going. If James had been in the room, Victoria was certain she would’ve killed him on the spot.
Once the shakes quelled, Shelley sucked in air. “He’d sent me a text message asking me where I went. I didn’t have my phone with me—I’d left my purse—and he was furious by the time I returned. I texted back and said I’d gotten ill. Well, that was it. We left right then, and he stayed three steps in front of me the whole way back to our room.
“After we got there, I got undressed and showered because I was sure I smelled awful. When I came out, I asked him what was wrong. He just got in bed and rolled over. I was angry and frustrated. I went outside and smoked a cigarette, and when I came back in, I tried again. Still nothing. Of course, my idiot self kept talking.” Her words were coming out fast by that point, running together so it was difficult to make out what she was saying. She hiccupped. “I was so angry he’d reacted that way. Still, I kept trying to talk through it, work it out somehow, begging him to just talk to me. Eventually, he had enough. He got out of bed, grabbed me by the throat, pushed me up against the wall, and told me how much he hated me.”
Sobs tore from her throat, and everything else was garbled.
Doctor Ward leaned in to try and catch what was being said.
“I petted… touched… told… I loved him… I cried.” Shelley wailed. “It was my fault for embarrassing him and provoking him!”
White hot fury grew behind Victoria’s sternum, and she pulled the other woman into a hug. “Shhh… Just cry for a minute. You don’t have to talk any more right now.” Jaw muscles popping from clenching teeth, Doctor Ward rocked back and forth, providing what comfort she could through the rage that was trying to consume her. She pushed it down and focused.
Finally, Shelley relaxed, and her tears slowed as she lay back down on the buttery soft leather of the couch.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’d like to tell you the rest of the story, if that’s all right.”
“Of course. This is your time. You can tell me whatever you want, Shelley. Again, you’re safe here.”
“Thanks, doc.” Shelley gave a weak, half smile. “There were these beautiful, chocolate-covered strawberries the hotel had sent—because we were newlyweds. I threw those little fuckers at the wall one by one. Not once did he get up and say he was sorry. He just laid in that bed. Man, let me tell you, I was pissed, hurt, and my heart was broken. I got my stuff, got a cab, and went home. I bawled the whole way.”
“I bet you did.”
“It was our fucking wedding night, doc.”
“I know, sweetie.”
“Why? That’s what I don’t understand. If he hated me so much, why marry me? I’m not a horrible person, right?” Shelley needed validation for her feelings, that much was clear. She was begging for someone to tell her she was worth something without asking outright.
“You’re not a horrible person. You’re a very good person. Know how I know?” Doctor Ward asked.
Shelley shook her head, her eyes open wide, begging.
“Because you’re still nice.”
That brought on a smile.
Dear God. What else has he done to her besides that beating she mentioned, I wonder. Before Victoria could ask, the buzzer signaling the end of the session went off. She stood and popped the top with her hand. “I’m sorry, that’s our time for today. Are you okay to drive?”
Shelley got to her feet and gathered her garish, oversized purse, tissues still clutched in one hand, face red and swollen. “I’ll be okay. Thanks.”
“Same time next week?”
She moved her head up and down.
 “I want you to think about what happened after he came home. How you felt, what was said. We’ll talk about it next time. And take those meds. Be safe.” She guided Shelley to the exit and smiled.
After the door closed, Doctor Ward pressed her back against the polished wood and clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. She stared at the red carpet, wishing it was a pool of James Whitaker’s blood. It got worse, she was sure. Those stories were the tip of the iceberg, the beginning of the world of shit that poor girl was in.
Based on comments she’d made earlier in the session, the abuse had gotten worse mentally as well as physically, but only Shelley could shed light on the whole situation.
Victoria’s hand snaked back and clicked the lock. No interruptions. That had been her last appointment for the day, and she needed to do some research.
While she waited for her computer to boot up, she pulled out her script log book.
~~~
4581.034—S. Whitaker: 500 mg Effexor 1x day – 2 mg Xanax 2x day.
~~~
She reached down the front of her blouse and extracted the key that never left her person. Once the log book and Shelley’s notes for the day had been properly locked away in the filing cabinet, Doctor Ward sat at her desk and opened a private browsing session. Subject: James Harlow Whitaker.


~~~~~~~
END EXCERPT

What did you think?

Well, that's all for today, folks! Until next time, WRITE ON!

Jo