Category: New Fiction

Preview of “Lucia and the Saints: Vol One”

Hello! This month on my website, Woolaston Entertainment, I’m focusing on ebooks, both current and upcoming. The first book in my new series, Lucia and the Saints, should be available either July 6 or July 7, and I plan to release a new volume every week this month. Until then, here’s a sample of the first chapter of the first book. Enjoy!

Chapter One

Lucia Calderon

    “What you must first understand, is that nothing lasts forever. None of us are immortal, and every relationship must eventually end. We are given one life that we can be certain of, and we must do the best we can with that one life.”

    They stood before her; these twelve girls from all walks of life, like disciples receiving the Word. They stood in a huddle on the front lawn of the place they now called home: a sprawling New Orleans mansion. It had taken two and a half weeks to make the place livable, but working in shifts, they had managed to get the work done. The mansion had been a dilapidated mess at first sight: broken windows, peeling paint, weeds growing up the outer walls, and a lawn that was in need of serious care. And that was only the outside. Inside, there were walls that needed to be cleaned and/or painted, broken furniture that needed to be removed, floors that needed to be swept and mopped, and so on and so on. Twelve young women and the fearless leader, had rolled up their sleeves and worked together, and completely remodeled the house. The outside was painted beige with white shutters on either side of every window. Southern magnolias lined the pathway that led to the front door. The front door, was painted white, and the old doorknob was replaced with a solid brass knob, and partnered with four locks. Inside, the marble floor was cleaned and polished, and a large, round wooden table was in the center, taking up some of the space between the double staircase. Upstairs, were fifteen bedrooms, with only thirteen in use. The kitchen had all new stainless steel appliances, and marble countertops. The cabinets were white with gold knobs. The island in the center held the massive sink, with plenty of room to spare.

    The local hardware and furniture stores had become accustomed to seeing them. When they weren’t picking up more paint and tools, they were picking out furniture. The grocery stores knew them, too. Their refrigerator was the last item to arrive for the house, so they didn’t have a place to keep food. Instead, they found themselves heading to the store every day, picking up items that had to be eaten the same day.

    A delivery truck slowly made its way up the long driveway, towards the front of the house. The twelve girls stepped aside and watched it as it pulled up, and two men in gray coveralls climbed out. One of them was holding a clipboard, with several sheets of paper attached to it. He looked around at all of the female faces. “Lucia Calderon?”

    The woman who had addressed the crowd only moments ago, stepped down from the front porch. “I’m Lucia,” she said, brushing away a lock of long brown hair that had fallen across her face. “Do you have my Fleur de Lis?”

    The man with the clipboard smiled at her and nodded. “I’ve got it right here in the truck,” he said. “I just need you to sign for it.” He handed her the clipboard and a pen, and watched as she signed her name at the bottom of the top sheet of paper. She handed it back to him, and he tore off the sheet underneath, and handed it to her.  The other man walked around to the rear of the truck and opened the double-doors. The girls watched in silent awe, as the two men worked together to pull an extremely large box, out of the truck, and set it upon the ground. They open the top, and began to pull away the sides of the box, revealing it’s precious cargo. It was a large Fleur de Lis, carved out of mahogany. “Here it is,” the first man said proudly, as though he had carved the symbol himself. “Five feet tall, four and a half feet wide, and solid mahogany. It was coated with a special waterproof seal, just like you asked. Where do you want it?”

    Lucia turned towards the porch, and pointed to a space just beyond the steps. “Right there, if you would,” she said. The men nodded, and carefully lifted the carving, and carried it up the short flight of steps, placing it where their customer had requested. There were little sighs of admiration from the twelve girls. The men shook Lucia’s hand, gathered the sides of the box, and departed.

    “It’s really amazing,” one of the girls said. “Isn’t it?”

    “The picture online didn’t do it any justice,” Lucia said. “But, here it is, on our front porch. Our new symbol.  From now on, ladies, we’re not just a group of women sharing a house. We’re going to help people, as best we can. From now on, we are The Saints.”

 

End of Preview

A Snippet of “Lucia and the Saints”

I‘m working on a series of short ebooks, titled Lucia and the Saints.  This will be the second series to act as a spin-off from my Valentine series, and I’m certain readers are going to enjoy it. Here’s another little snippet from what I’m working on. Enjoy!

Lucia burst through the door, huffing and puffing with every step. She could hear John’s footsteps behind her, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t want to. It was always like this: the others looked at her, and saw a woman. A stupid female who didn’t belong in their world. She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. John had caught up to her. She paused, and he spun her around to face him.  “Don’t say it,” Lucia said. “I don’t even want to hear it.”

“You need to stop acting like a freight train every time someone says something you don’t like,” John said, dropping his hand from her shoulder. “You can’t run over every person who pisses you off, Lucia.”

Her eyes grew wide with anger. “Did you hear what he said to me?!” she snapped. “He said I was just some dumb broad. A broad! Who the hell even uses that word anymore?!”

“I heard him,” John said, in a soothing tone. “What? You don’t think I get that kind of crap all the time?”

Lucia sighed, and put her hands on her hips. 

“They look at me, they see some Irish hood,” John said. “A mick. Same thing I’ve been hearing most of my life.  They don’t want me hanging around their sons, they definitely don’t want me to date their daughters. They think I’m some kind of joke. They laugh at me. But so what?”

Lucia seemed to be calming down, listening to his words.

“Their sons will get high off of my drugs,” John continued. “And their daughters will dance in my night clubs. Then we’ll see who’s laughing, won’t we?”

 

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Connecting the Dots in Valentine Apart

June is nearly upon us, and I’m working on a few different projects. One of them, is a new addition to the Valentine Apart series.  This series will trace John Rafferty’s origins, the rise of The Syndicate, and the person who trained Allan and Mac Avery. The working title is Lucia and The SaintsI’m planning to release this series in the form of short ebooks, between 25 and 50 pages per book, for 99 cents each. It’s not ready yet, but in the meantime, here’s a tiny snippet of what I’m working on. Enjoy!

          Jacob sat at the end of the bar on the last stool, his glass in his hand. Every few seconds, he glanced at the two people, a man and a woman, talking at the opposite end, who were busy whispering about, what he could only assume, was him. Whenever one of them looked over at him, he would quickly turn away and find some random object inside the bar to stare at: the booths and tables in the dining area, the bartender or the waitresses, the endless wall of framed photos behind the bar. This was his job interview, and so far, it didn’t seem to be going too well.

          “He’s too young,” the woman said. “I have to tell you John, I’m completely against this.”

          “I think he has potential,” John said. “You said so yourself, Lucia: we need fresh blood.”

          “Fresh blood,” Lucia said. “Not young blood. This kid is way too young.” She looked over at Jacob, who had raised his glass to take a sip of his beverage. “Look at him!”

          “What’s wrong with him?” John asked.

          Lucia nodded towards the glass in Jacob’s hand. “He’s drinking chocolate milk, for Christ’s sake!” She spoke in a loud whisper, which got Jacob’s attention. He set his glass down, climbed off of his bar stool, and approached them. 

          “You know, you’ve really got a pair, kid,” John said. Lucia folded her arms. “But I like that.”

         “Thanks,” Jacob said. He used fingers to rake through his sandy-brown hair. “So, am I in, or out?”

         He’s drinking chocolate milk, for Christ’s sake!

          Lucia shook her head. “I don’t like this,” she said. “I don’t like this one bit.”

          “Let’s give him a chance,” John said. He reached up and scratched the back of his head full of jet black hair. “Let’s see how it goes. Lucia?”

          Lucia looked at John in surprise. “Oh, you better not say what I think you’re about to say,” she snapped.

          “There’s no one better for the job,” John said, shrugging his shoulders. “Show him the ropes. It’ll be good for him…and you.”

          Lucia turned to Jacob in disgust. She sighed heavily. “I put bullets in people for a living,” she muttered. “Now I’m a goddamned babysitter.”

 

 

June is Valentine Apart Month on woolastonentertainment.com. Stay tuned for more of Lucia and The Saints!

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Celebrate Spring with Our Lady of Righteous Rage!

Spring has officially sprung! The sun  is shining, flowers are in bloom, and temperatures are finally above 50 degrees. This month, Woolaston Entertainment is celebrating Our Lady of Righteous Rage. The next book in the series, Rock N Role Model, will be available towards the middle of the month. To celebrate, I’m going to post blogs devoted to the series. Plus, guest blogger Ebunnygirl will share why she loves the series so much. So, check back often, and I’ll keep you posted! 🙂

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https://ebunnygirl.wordpress.com/

What’s in those brownies?

Here’s a little story I wrote, featuring the characters from my Our Lady of Righteous Rage series. Enjoy!

When Amy approached the front doors of the studio/retail store she and her friends shard, she could see the store itself was unusually busy. She figured it would probably be a better idea to use the back door, so she walked to the side of the building, to the rear entrance. As she walked down the hall to the recording studio, she could hear her band mates talking and laughing. She turned the corner and entered the studio, and found Nick and Rob standing around a folding table. Erin was just a few feet away, gesturing for her to come inside. “What’s up?” Amy asked.

“A fan brought us some brownies,” Erin said. She nodded towards the folding table, where a plate full of fudge brownies was sitting. “They’re pretty good.”

“Oh,” Amy said. “Well, that was nice of them.”  She walked over to the  table and helped herself to a brownie. As she bit into it, she could taste the fudge. They were slightly under-baked, which made them even better. “Wow,” she said. “They are good.” 

“We should probably save some for Aidan,” Nick said, chewing on the last piece of the brownie he was eating.  “But he had better hurry up and get here.”

Amy finished her brownie, and before she knew it, she was eating another one. “They’re really good,” she said. “I mean, this is borderline ridiculous.”

Aidan suddenly appeared at the door. He looked around, saw the plate of brownies, and immediately walked up to the table. “Who brought the baked goods?” he asked, grabbing a brownie.

“A fan,” Rob said. “They taste like homemade fudge.”

Aidan nodded in agreement.

Amy took another brownie. “I can’t believe I’m on my third one,” she said.

“Yeah,” Aidan said. “And it was nice of them to add weed to them.”

Nick, Rob, Erin and Amy all stared at him blankly. “What?” Amy said.

Aidan looked around at them. “Weed,” he said. “I mean, I can taste it. Can’t you?”

Amy looked at the last piece of brownie in her hand. Nick and Rob looked at one another. Erin started giggling. 

“Wow,” Aidan said.  “You really didn’t know?”

“No!” Amy shouted. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Aidan said.  He sniffed the brownie in his hand, then ate the rest of it. “There’s definitely weed in these brownies. But they’re still good.” 

“Oh my God,” Amy said, setting the uneaten piece of her brownie on the plate. “Oh my God! I just ate weed! Are you kidding me?!”

“I don’t even feel anything,” Rob said.

Aidan nodded. “Wait.”

“I can’t believe this!” Amy said. “I can’t get high!”

“You had three of those things,” Aidan said.  “You’re gonna be high. But it’s okay. I’ve been high plenty of times. You’ll be okay.”

“No!” Amy said. “It’s not okay! I just did drugs, for Christ’s sake!”

Aidan cocked an eyebrow at her. “Hey, every time you take an aspirin for a headache, you’re doing drugs. When you take cold medicine, you’re doing drugs. This really isn’t any different.”

Amy placed her hand over her forehead. “This is too crazy,” she said. 

Adian walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders.  “You’re going to be okay,” he said. “I’m gonna walk you through this. The high will wear off, and you’ll be fine. Until then, grab a pad and pencil.”

Amy shook her head. “What for?”

“Songwriting,” Aidan said. “Because I have a feeling you’re gonna come up with some clever shit while you’re stoned out of your mind.”

Rob snickered.  Nick shook his head and said, “Dude.”

Aidan shrugged.  “What?” he said.  “Oh! Do you know what we should do? We should go to my place and watch The Matrix. That movie is awesome when you’re stoned.”

“You would know,” Erin said, quietly.

“I need to go lay down,” Amy said.  She started to walk towards the door.

“Hey, Amy?” Aidan said.

Amy paused. “What?”

Aidan smiled at her. “There is no spoon.”

“Shut up!” Amy shouted. Then she stormed out of the room.

The End.

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Sample of “Jo Fuentes: Project Sleep”

Here’s a sample of one of my upcoming books, Jo Fuentes: Project Sleep,coming later this year. 🙂

 

 

Jo stood to the side of the boxing ring, watching the two young women sparring. Only one of them was wearing a pair of gloves. The other was wearing focus pads on her hands, while coaching the other woman on how and where to hit. They moved about in a circle, in the center of the ring. The trainer kept encouraging the woman to hit the focus pads harder and harder. Finally, they stopped, and took deep breaths.

“You did much better today,” the trainer said. She was a  petite Black woman with short brown hair, dressed in a pair of tights and a cut-off t-shirt, with the Pittsburgh Steelers logo on it. “Okay girl, take a break. Get some water.” The other woman nodded, and climbed out of the ring.

Jo lifted her head. “Hey, Ruthless.”

The trainer looked over at her in wide-eyed surprise. She approached Jo’s side of the ring, and cocked her head to one side. “Fuentes?” she said. She removed the focus pads and let them drop onto the floor of the ring. “Jo Fuentes. Well, I’ll be damned. What are you doing here?”

“Ruthless Ruthie Henshaw,” Jo said. “I’m here to see you.”

Ruthie climbed down from the ring. When she stood in front of Jo, Jo was suddenly reminded of just how short she was, compared to herself. “Damn, you’re short.”

Ruthie smirked at her. “Everybody’s short next to you, you freak’n Amazon,” she said. “So, what are you doing here? I get the feeling this isn’t a social call.”

Jo shrugged. “You always had good instincts,” she said. “I came to check on you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Ruthie said. “I’ve been working at this gym for about two years now. The Corps let me go, and I needed to do something, so I came here.”

“Yeah, they let me go, too,” Jo said.

“So, what are you doing now?” Ruthie asked.

I guess you can say, I’m doing what they trained me to do,” Jo said.

Ruthie stared at her for a moment. “What do you mean?”

Jo looked around before she answered her. The other people in the gym seemed occupied with their own activities: jumping rope, sparring with one another, lifting weights, etc. Jo leaned forward slightly, and said, “You know. Our training?”

Ruthie shook her head curiously. “Our Marine training?”

Jo sighed softly and shook her head. “The other training.”

Ruthie’s shoulders seemed to stiffen. “I try not to think about that,” she said, in a low voice.

“But you do remember?” Jo whispered.

Ruthie looked around, then gestured for Jo o follow her. They walked off of the floor down a hallway, and into a cramped office on the right. Once inside, Ruthie closed the door. “I don’t think about any of that,” she said. “I don’t talk about it, either. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Ruthie, they did something to us,” Jo said. “They trained us to be assassins, then must have tried to erase our memories. But I remembered some of it. In fact, I used what I learned to kill eight men in under sixty seconds in Iraq.”

Ruthie took a step back. “After the training?”

“After they tried to erase my memory,” Jo said. “But they didn’t get rid of everything. I can still remember being in a classroom with you and other soldiers. I can remember being trained to do some pretty horrible things.”

“What brought you here, Jo?” Ruthie asked. 

“I need answers,” Jo said. “And someone doesn’t want me or anyone else from our class to remember anything.”

“I’ve been trying to keep things quiet,” Ruthie said. “But the truth is, I remember all of it. I woke up one morning, and came in here to work. While I was training this guy in the ring, I started having flashbacks. Hand to hand combat training. I had to stop, and step out of the ring, because I suddenly realized, I could have killed the guy I was training. I mean, I knew how to.I could have killed him with my bare hands, and that scared me.”

Jo sighed heavily. “You’ve got to watch your back,” she said. “If they’re keeping an eye on me, they’re gonna keep one on you, too.”

 

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