Here’s some info on the upcoming Fortune’s Wing: Flies Again, the third and final installment of the series. I’ll try not to provide any spoilers! The question in FW … Continue reading The World Ending in Fortune’s Wing
Tag: writing
Sneak Peek at “Black Queen; Killing Machine”
I’m currently working on 3 manuscripts now, and I’d like to share a little sneak peek at the upcoming “Black Queen; Killing Machine”, another book in the “Valentine Apart” series, featuring Jo Fuentes, who I introduced in the third Valentine book. Enjoy!
Roger Plankman could feel the blood rushing to his head, as he dangled six flights up, over the side of the motel. Jo had a vice grip on his ankles, but every few seconds, she would lower him, then raise him again. He heard her groan, then he felt her tighten her grip even more. “He’s getting heavy, Kelly,” she whined.
“I know, I know,” Kelly said. She put one foot up on the edge of the building, and leaned forward, with her hands resting upon her thigh. “What’s it going to be, Roger? Are you going to tell me what I want to know, or am I going to have to let Jo drop you?”
“I don’t know anything!!” Roger insisted. “I swear!”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “This is becoming very tiresome.”
“Tell me about it,” Jo muttered.
“So, you’re not going to cooperate?” Kelly asked.
“I don’t know anything!” Roger declared.
Kelly sighed heavily, stood up straight, and waved her hand. “Oh, just drop him,” she said.
Jo shrugged, and release both of Roger’s ankles. He yelled as he plummeted towards the pavement below. He landed in a heap beside a dumpster. Jo leaned over the edge and looked down at him, and gasped. “Hey, look!” she said. “The fall didn’t kill him.”
Kelly stood beside her and looked down at where Roger had fallen. She saw him move his head, and one of his hands tried to reach up, towards them. “Oh,” she said. She reached into her waist band, and pulled out her hand gun. Pointing it down at Roger, she fired a single shot, and struck the center of his chest. “Yes it did,” she said, flatly. “Let’s go.”
Stream of Consciousness
Stream of Consciousness
This is a form of narration I have come to deeply appreciate. You can tell a story in first person or third person. Third person gives you a little more freedom in terms of getting into the minds of several different characters. First person, on the other hand, limits you to one character’s mind. That’s where stream of consciousness comes in handy. This allows the reader to enter the minds of several characters, seeing the events of the story unfold through various points of view. I was first introduced to this technique in high school, when I read William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying. At first, I wondered if I would be able to keep track of the different characters, but after the first two or three chapters, I didn’t even think about it. I found myself just reading the book (the same thing happens to me when I watch a movie with subtitles: after a while, I just watch the movie and ignore the captions. But, I digress…).
Stream of Consciousness is also present in Keith Donohue’s The Stolen Child (a very good read, by the way. I highly recommend it). The story of what seems to be a single life, is told through two characters. That’s all I’m going to say; I won’t spoil it for you.
At times, SOC can be slightly confusing, if you’re not paying close attention. If there are too many characters speaking, there may be too many points of view for the reader to keep up with. Also, if other narrators are introduced much later in the story. Your reader may find himself or herself thinking, “Okay, who’s this guy? There’s the parents, the two kids, the teacher at school, the daughter’s best friend, the neighbor, the neighbor’s wife, and now three quarters into the story there’s another character speaking?” In Our Lady of Righteous Rage, I introduced everyone early on, and didn’t add any additional narrators. It makes the story less confusing for the reader, and for me, the writer.
If you’re working on a first person narrative with more than one character, you may want to give SOC a try.
Black Queen: Killing Machine
Two more books in the Valentine Apart series are on their way! Until they are ready, here’s a sample of the first chapter of Black Queen: Killing Machine. This book in the series reveals Jo Fuentes’ s past, before she met Valentine and just before she began working for Kelly McCormick. Enjoy!
Chapter One
She sat at the table, with her head down; right ear pressed against the surface. Her eyes were open, staring straight ahead at the metal door. The room was a typical interrogation room: painted in that drab matte gray. No windows. No pictures. No contact with the outside world. Only silence. Beyond the door, she imagined people going about their business, doing their jobs. Filing paperwork. Making phone calls. People in their fatigues or “dress blues”. Maybe a handful of people in “civies”. People who were moving around and doing important things, while she sat in a quiet little room, just waiting…
The door suddenly opened, and a man in uniform stepped inside. He was carrying a manila folder. She lifted her head and stood up from her seat, and saluted him. He nodded as he walked over to the table and took the seat across from her. He gestured for her to sit back down. Her eyes remained on his uniform as she seated herself. Marine. A Colonel. Bars. Awards. This guy seemed important.
“I’m Colonel Brantley,” he said. He set the folder on the table, and opened it. “It’s good to have you state-side, Lance Corporal Fuentes.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “But everyone calls me Jo.”
Brantley looked up at her through middle-aged gray eyes. “Jo, is it?” he said. “Jo. Okay, Jo. We need to talk about what happened. I’m going to ask you some questions, for my report. Is that okay with you?”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Jo said, “But I thought a report had already been filed.”
“This is for my report,” Brantley clarified. “You see, what happened to you is a pretty extraordinary thing. I would like to know more about it.”
Jo shrugged her shoulders. “There’s nothing more for me to tell, sir,” she said. “We came under attack. Corporal Sullivan and I survived, and we’re both here in the states.”
Brantley looked down at the contents of the folder. He thumbed through a few documents, then looked at the eight-by-ten photos behind them. “I believe there’s more to it than that,” he said. He looked up at Jo. “Do you remember that day, Jo? Do you remember what happened?”
Jo stared ahead at him. Her face was still, but her mind was active. Images a Hummer, driving down a road in the Iraqi desert, her unit talking and laughing. Sullivan—Sully, as she called
him—made a joke, and everyone laughed. Suddenly, no one was laughing. There was an explosion, followed by darkness…
“Jo? Fuentes?”
She blinked at him, and furrowed her brow. “Yes, sir?”
“I asked you if you recalled anything strange happening before the explosion?”
Jo could feel her heart beating rapidly inside her chest. The explosion. The explosion…
(End of Sample)
Valentine 3 Presents: Who Shot J.R.?
So many new characters appear in Valentine 3: Queen of Hearts, and there are a few new events for readers to keep their eyes on. One of the most important … Continue reading Valentine 3 Presents: Who Shot J.R.?
Valentine 3 Notes
If you’ve been keeping up with the series (and I hope you have!), then you know a lot has changed since I first introduced Val Entienne and company in 2010. What began as a story about a girl going on a road trip to rescue her father has evolved into something completely different. There are shoot-outs, and hit men, and a Syndicate full of crime bosses. We’re a long way from the road trip, folks.
What’s the theme of the Valentine series? Girls with guns? Violence? If that’s how you choose to look at it, I certainly can’t stop you. But those are not the themes I intended. Valentine, is about family. Our pink-haired heroine only wants to protect the people she loves. She beginning to learn about and understand the world she was basically born into. Valentine, is about the choices we make, and the choices that are made for us. It’s about how our past can shape our present, but ultimately, we can alter the course of our future.
Queen of Hearts picks up where The Patron Saint left off (warning: there may be spoilers here!). Val returns home, and the Entienne house is whole again. But, she’s unaware of the new dangers and new people who are about to enter her life. There’s Michael Aldus: a liaison for the Syndicate. And of course, there’s the Syndicate: the network of crime bosses, hit men, and criminals who work all across the country (and the world). This is the world Val became a part of, when her father started working for John Rafferty. As Val is about to discover, it may have started even earlier than that.
Queen of Hearts answers some questions from the previous books, and presents a few new ones as well. And the ending, will be the big shocker (of course, I won’t tell you here). I’ll be hosting a major giveaway on Goodreads.com at the end of the month, so I’ll keep you posted.
Your Best Writing Year; Goodreads.com; Valentine 3
Hello, everyone! Happy New Year. This is the first Monday Blog for 2016. I decided to start the New Year off on a positive note, so I’m going to offer some advice to my fellow writers. Plus, I’d like to invite all of you to Goodreads.com if you haven’t already signed up, and I’d like to talk a little about Valentine 3.
Your Best Writing Year
Whenever New Year’s Day rolls around, people make resolutions. We set goals for ourselves: lose weight, quit smoking, etc. I’m usually not big on resolutions. I just take each day, and do the best I can with it. This year, however, I am going to set a few goals for myself. My mother is about to publish her very first book, and she has asked me for tips and advice. So, I decided to share some of my ideas with my fellow writers. I’m not an expert, but I want to share the things that I have found to be useful over the years. Hopefully, you’ll find at least one of my tips useful, and you will be able to make 2016 your best writing year.
Don’t just be a writer, be a reader. Reading is what inspired me to become a writer in the first place. I have a set of authors I like, for different reasons. For example, I always liked James Howe’s use of dialogue, and his descriptiveness. If there is a particular genre you want to write about, it helps to read other books in that genre. This can help you learn what works and why, and it may also help you find your own writing voice.
Only write when you feel like writing. I don’t tell myself “I will write at least 5 pages a day.” I may be in the mood to write on Monday, but on Tuesday I may not be feeling it. So, if I force myself to write when I’m not in the mood, my writing will most likely SUCK. I won’t be at my best. If you’re sincerely not in the mood to write, don’t. Step away from your computer or notepad, or whatever you’re using.
If you can see it, you can write it. I’m a very visual person. One of my methods, is to see the story in my mind, and then write it. Every chapter of Valentine or Fortune’s Wing is like the episode of a TV series. I watch it in my head, and simply write what I’m seeing. Try to visualize a scene before you write it. You may even want to grab a sheet of paper and draw the scene. For instance, you could draw the layout of one of your character’s bedrooms, to use as a guide when describing it in your writing.
Don’t be afraid of synonyms. There are certain words we overuse, and we really don’t have to. One way to avoid this problem, is by using a Thesaurus. It can be a writer’s best friend. There’s more than one way to say a character is “happy”. They can be “glad”, or “cheerful”, or “overjoyed”.
Try writing from a different point of view. If all of your writing is done in first person, give third person a try. If all of your writing is in third person, try writing in first person.
Write about what you know. I love football, but I don’t know enough about it to write a football story. I also love mysteries, but I’m not good at writing them. What I do know, is punk rock, so I wrote Our Lady of Righteous Rage. I know about family drama, so I was able to write new arcs of the Valentine series. Write about a subject you are familiar with. If you don’t know very much about politics, then writing a political drama may not be a good idea. If you’re into horror, and you’ve read a lot of horror and seen a lot of horror movies, writing horror might be your thing.
I hope you found these tips useful.
Goodreads.com
If you haven’t already joined Goodreads.com, I urge you to join! It’s free, and you can sign in with your Facebook account. It’s a great website for sharing books you’ve read, discovering new books, and writing reviews. If you’re a writer, you can create an author page and reach a wider audience. Plus, there’s my favorite feature: giveaways. Giveaways are a wonderful way to put your book in the hands of readers, and receive reviews.
Valentine 3
Valentine 3: Queen of Hearts, the third installment in the series, is currently available on Amazon.com, and through woolastonenterainment.com. One thing that’s very special about this book, is it is the first published WE book to introduce an LGBT character. Plus, it provides some background information about the Entienne family, and Lola Vencent, which may explain why they are the way they are.
Until next week, everyone.
Sample from “Novocain”
Greetings, folks. Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve been busy reading, writing and working. But I’m back now, and I intend to post more often. First up, is a sample from a book I’m working on. The working title is “Novocain”. I may change it between now and its completion. We’ll see. “Novocain” will serve as the in-between novel, that will bridge a gap between “Our Lady of Righteous Rage” and “Your Fame Will Destroy You”. The story is centered around Erin, a new character you’ll meet in “Your Fame”. Here’s a little sample. Enjoy.
At nineteen, I had decided to completely free myself. After all, who was going to stop me? I felt as though I had no choice in the matter. I had hidden away the things I held dear, for far too long. I had been keeping the real Erin under lock and key, only letting her out on Halloween, when I could wear all black and extreme eyeliner without having to explain myself to everyone. But this had gone on far too long. This had to come to an end. Keeping your true self hidden away from the world isn’t living…it’s just existing. I didn’t want to just exist anymore. I wanted to live. I wanted to be me.
My first attempt at freedom, was at a speed dating event, in Chelsea. The women sat down at tables while the men played musical chairs around the room, sitting and “dating” for two minutes at a time. Every guy who sat across from me, wasn’t quite what I wanted. Khakis, polo shirts, or sagging pants…not my scene. There was one guy, who began our date with a joke. He introduced himself as Holden Caulfield, so I told him I was Esther Greenwood. We both laughed; we were probably the only two people in the room who understood that reference. In that two-minute span, I learned Holden was a bookworm like me, but that was all we had in common. He liked classical music. I liked punk rock. He dressed in bright colors. I dressed in black.
Another guy noticed my black attire and asked if I was going to a funeral. I smiled and replied, “Soon.” He stood up before our two minutes had ended. Pity.
“He probably thought you were a witch,” Mom said, when I told her all about my mini-dates. “You’re not going to get a date like that, Erin. Men don’t want a creepy little Goth girl.”
“Some do,” I said. “I don’t want the Prep School Polo shirt wearing dildo who’s daddy is in charge of some hedge fund. That’s boring.”
“Then what do you want?” Mom asked.
I paused. “I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I just know what I don’t want.” I sighed, and shook my head. “Maybe I should just give up on dating, and buy a body pillow.”
Mom cocked an eyebrow. “A what?”
“A body pillow,” I said. “You know, one of those extra long pillow? The ones that are the length of your body? At least I’d have something to hold on to when I’m in my bed.”
“I don’t want to imagine what else you’d be doing with that thing,” Mom muttered. I playfully punched her arm, and she punched me back. Most of the girls I grew up with, could never have this sort of conversation with their mothers. But my mother was different. I suppose that developed from her being a single mother, as so many mothers are. Its been me and her for almost as long as I can remember, so we’ve always been able to talk about anything. For instance, I once asked her why so many women threw themselves at Mick Jagger.
“I mean, he’s not even that good looking,” I said. “I just don’t get it.”
“He’s got a lot of money,” Mom had replied. “And he probably has a huge dick. When you’re rich and you have a huge dick, you don’t need to be good looking.”
I had never laughed so hard in all my life! Anyone else who had heard their mother say such a thing would have blushed or felt embarrassed. But not me. That’s just the way it was between me and Mom.
I quietly made my way into am indie record store near Union Square. I was one of only two female patrons there. I found a rack full of discounted vinyl and began searching through it. A guy with dark brown hair walked over and stood beside me. “Looking for anything in particular?” he asked.
“Patti Smith,” I replied, looking up from my search only long enough to see he has blue eyes.
“Who?” he said.
Who? The fuck do you mean, who?
“Patti Smith,” I say again, as if this will suddenly educate or remind him as to who Patti Smith is.
“What kind of music does she play?” he asked.
I slowly looked up from the records, and turn to him, in silence. “Seriously?”
http://www.woolastonentertainment.com #ourlady #Novocain #writing
Sample from Fortune’s Wing
“Fortune’s Wing” is the story of a young man who learns he is part of a prophecy to either save or destroy the world. The fate of the world can only be decided by the one person who bares the Wings. When Fortune’s Left Wing grows, he must go on a journey to find the Right Wing and complete the set. Here is Chapter 1 from “Fortune’s Wing”.
1
The Prophecy of the Wings
Was it a dream or was it reality?
There he was, standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down at a cold, lifeless world. Buildings had crumbled and fallen. Vehicles lay upon their backs; their drivers nowhere to be seen. The streets were filled with debris. Thick black smoke blocked out the sun, and darkened a once clear blue sky. Everything was in ruins. It was so quiet, so still, as though death had waved his hand over everything in sight. Had there been an earthquake? A tornado? No, it looked like something else. Something unnatural…
Was it a dream or was it reality?
He suddenly awakened, covered in perspiration and surrounded by darkness. He reached over and switched on the small beige lamp that rested upon his night table. Looking around, he realized he was still in his bed, in his bedroom, on the second floor of his family’s house, on the same street he had lived on since he was a child.
He managed to climb out of the bed and walk over to his window. In the still of the night, he could see by the light of the street lamps, that the world he had known before he fell asleep had not changed. He breathed a sigh of relief, and flopped onto his bed. There was an unexpected knock at his bedroom door. “Yes?” he said.
The door slowly opened, and his younger sister stuck her head into the room. “Hey, Fortune,” she said as she attempted to suppress a yawn. “I was on my way to the kitchen when I noticed your light was on. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Haverdy,” Fortune replied. He forced himself to smile; despite the fact the images from his dream were still fresh in his mind.
Haverdy shook her head in disbelief. “You can’t lie to me, big brother,” she said. She clutched her robe and opened the door the rest of the way. “What’s up?”
“It was the dream again,” Fortune said with a heavy sigh.
“The one about the end of the world?” Haverdy asked.
“Yeah,” Fortune replied. “It’s always the same. Me, standing on a cliff, looking down at a world I couldn’t save.”
“You couldn’t save?” Haverdy asked as she sat on the end of her brother’s bed. “Do you think you’re supposed to save the world?”
Fortune laughed half-heartedly and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know,” he said. “Every time I have that dream I always have this strange guilty feeling. It’s like the world ended and it was all my fault. And now I have a feeling something big is about to happen to me.”
“Something big is about to happen to you,” Haverdy said, as-a-matter-of-factly. “You’re going to be eighteen in two days, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Fortune said. “And then, school will be out for summer, and I’ll be able to leave eleventh grade behind forever. But, that’s not it. I feel like it’s something bigger.” He sighed, and shook his head. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Are you going to let your hair grow this summer?” Haverdy laughed and ran her fingers through her short, dark blond hair. “And make Mom happy? Heck no!” she said, almost in a whisper. “It’s my trademark. I can’t help it; I’m a tomboy. Sometimes I feel as if I should have been your brother instead of your sister.”
“Haverdy, do me a favor,” Fortune said, thoughtfully. “Don’t ever change, okay?”
Haverdy blinked at her brother in surprise. Still, she smiled and said, “Okay, Fortune. I won’t.” She stood up from the bed and yawned. “Try to get some sleep. Don’t let that dream bother you. Okay? It’s just a dream, nothing more.”
Fortune nodded. “Okay. Good night, Haverdy.”
“Good night, Fortune,” Haverdy said. She excused herself from his room, and returned to hers. Fortune turned off his light and rested his head upon his pillow. He sighed and whispered, “Just a dream.”
In the morning, the Oyama family had breakfast together, before separating and heading off to either school or work. Haverdy and Fortune came to the table in their school uniforms: for Fortune, black pants, a white button-up shirt and a black tie. For Haverdy, it should have been the black sleeveless dress with a white short-sleeved shirt underneath. Instead, she was wearing the boys’ uniform. When she took a seat at the table, Mrs. Oyama shook her head in disapproval. “It’s the end of the school year, Haverdy,” she said. “I hope you’re planning to wear the girls’ uniform next year.”
“We tried that already, remember?” Haverdy said, scanning the food on her plate (waffles, toast and bacon). “It doesn’t work for me. I like the boys’ uniform better. It suits me.”
“Sweetheart, you’re a girl,” Mrs. Oyama said. “More importantly, you’re becoming a young woman. You belong in more feminine clothes.”
“I think she looks cool, Mom,” Fortune said. He gave his sister a wink, and she smiled.
Mrs. Oyama turned to her husband for support. “Well?”
Mr. Oyama looked from his wife, to his daughter, then down into his mug of black coffee. “As long as she keeps her grades up, I don’t care what she wears.”
Haverdy smiled gratefully.
For Fortune Oyama, school had become a means of killing time. He had managed to maintain an A-B average throughout his high school career. Still, school didn’t interest him at all. The highlight of his day, were his friends. He always met with them at the front of Timberland High School, and they usually spent the rest of the afternoon together.
“Old man!” Duringo shouted as Fortune exited the building along with
several other students. Fortune laughed and Duringo playfully punched his arm. “I can’t believe you’re finally going to be eighteen. So, how does it feel to be an adult, Fortune?”
Fortune chuckled as he walked with his friends. “I’m not an adult yet, Ringo.”
“I don’t think adulthood should be defined by age,” Narumi said.
“Leave it to Narumi to say something profound,” Ringo said.
“Shut up, Duringo,” Esrieve said, gently shoving her older brother in the back. “I love the way Narumi talks.” She beamed with childish delight. “Say something else, Narumi.”
“There’s a piece of lint in your hair,” Narumi said. She reached over and plucked a piece of lint from Esrieve’s red bangs.
“Oh,” Esrieve said. “Gee, I wonder how long that was there.”
“Esrieve should have been born as a blond,” Ringo said. “That would give her an excuse for being so slow!”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Haverdy asked as she scowled at Ringo.
“Haverdy, you’re an exception to the rule,” Ringo said, patting Haverdy’s back. “You too, Fortune.”
“Haverdy is an exception?” Tony said. The six of them laughed as they walked away from the school.
Fortune looked around at his companions. There was his girlfriend, Esrieve Fullerton, a hyperactive redhead who was in the tenth grade with Haverdy. Ringo, Esrieve’s brother, was in one of his classes and had been his best friend since elementary school. Narumi Hime, a raven-haired half-Japanese girl, was the most intellectual person he knew. And then, there was Tony Morales, the group’s comic relief. School, family, friends, and normalcy: this was all he needed.
“Fortune Oyama.”
Fortune stopped dead in his tracks; his friends halted as well.
“You are Fortune Oyama, aren’t you?”
The six students turned and found themselves looking down at a little old man in a tattered black suit and tie. His gaze was focused on Fortune. Fortune cocked an eyebrow. “How did you know my name?” he asked as he locked eyes with the tiny stranger.
“There is much I know about you,” the old man said. An unnatural breeze blew and lifted a few strands of his neatly combed silver hair. He squinted his periwinkle eyes. “It’s almost time.”
“Time?” Fortune said. “Time for what?”
“For your wing to grow,” the old man replied. “But excuse me. Grow was a poor choice of words. It’s been growing all this time. It’s ready to sprout , now.”
“My wing?” Fortune asked, a worried look forming upon his face.
“Let’s go, Fortune,” Haverdy said, as she gently tugged on her brother’s arm.
“Yeah, he’s just some nut,” Tony added. “Let’s go.”
“But he knows Fortune’s name,” Narumi whispered.
“You’ve been having strange dreams, haven’t you?” the old man continued. “Visions of a world you couldn’t save?”
Both Haverdy and Fortune gasped softly.
“It’s all part of the Prophecy of the Wings,” the old man said. “On the midnight of his eighteenth birthday, the chosen one’s Left Wing shall appear, and he will begin his quest to retrieve the Right Wing. He who possesses the Wings shall control the fate of the world.”
Fortune could feel a lump in his throat. How did this old man know who he was? How did he know about his dreams? And what was all of this nonsense about a prophecy and wings?
“I have to go,” Fortune said, suddenly. “Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just leave me alone, please.” He turned and walked away. His friends stared at the old man for a moment, then followed Fortune to a nearby park. There, he found a bench, and sat down with his head resting in his hands.
Haverdy sat down beside him, and leaned forward a little to see his face. “Are you okay, Fortune?” she asked.
“What was up with that old guy?” Ringo asked.
“And what was he talking about?” Esrieve asked.
Fortune sighed. “I had the dream again,” he said as he picked his head up. “The one about the end of the world.”
“And that elderly man knew about it,” Narumi said. “Fortune, this could mean something.”
“Aw, forget about it,” Tony said. “I’m sure if you call the local mental institution, one of their older nut cases is probably missing.”
Esrieve giggled and leaned over the bench. She wrapped her arms and Fortune and said, “Let’s just forget all about it, okay? Come on! I could go for a Dr. Pepper right about now.”
Fortune couldn’t help but to laugh. Esrieve’s child-like sweetness always seemed to turn any bad situation into a good one. He kissed her cheek and stood up. “You’re probably right,” he said. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”
They walked out of the park and across the street to a convenience store. Fortune tried not to think about the old man and his words, but they managed to work their way back into his mind. The Prophecy of the Wings. His dream about the end of the world. Even the old man had said it: a world you couldn’t save. How could he have known?
There was a sudden itch in the left side of his back, just below his shoulder blade. As he reached behind himself to scratch it, Fortune recalled something else the old man had said:
The chosen one’s Left Wing shall appear…
Fortune stopped scratching as he approached the cooler. He opened the door and pulled out a can of Pepsi. He had never discussed his dream with anyone besides Haverdy and his friends. How did the old man know? How could a complete stranger have known so much about him? He had to wonder about the prophecy: was it a dream or was it reality.
http://www.woolastonentertainment.com
New Editions of Fortune’s Wing are available now: http://www.amazon.com/Fortunes-Wing-Nicole-Woolaston-ebook/dp/B00WIWQMFK/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=1-2&qid=1430421154
Sample from Valentine 2: The Patron Saint
In “Valentine 2: The Patron Saint”, Val and her family try to move on and live normal lives. However, their normalcy is interrupted by the arrival of a stranger, with a dark secret concerning a member of the Entienne family. So, here is Chapter 1 from “Valentine 2”.
Chapter 1:
A Rose Grows in Trenton
It was after midnight. The street was quiet. A streetlamp flickered for a few moments, before shutting off completely. There were several cars parked outside of four apartment buildings at the intersection of Froman Street and Gent Avenue, in Trenton, New Jersey. Every car was empty, except for one: a dark blue Ford Taurus. A man sat in the driver’s seat, staring up at a window on the fourth floor of one of the buildings. The window was dark, but he knew someone was up there, inside the apartment, watching him. It was a teenaged girl. She was crouching down, just below the window sill, peeking out at the man in the car. After a few minutes of watching one another in silence, the man finally started his car and drove away. The girl gave a sigh of relief, and stood up. She carefully made her way through the darkness, to the light switch on her wall, and flicked it on. The light mounted on the ceiling came on; the eco bulb made a soft humming sound. She walked over to her wooden dresser, and opened the top drawer. Inside, she found a tattered photograph of three people: a man, and two young women. They were standing in front of a brick wall, with the man in the center and the two women on either side of him. He had his arms around them, and all three of them were smiling. The girl smiled at the women in the picture. She had been told, they were her uncle, cousin, and sister. Obviously, the man in the picture was her uncle. But, as far as who was her cousin and who was her sister—that had never been made clear. One girl had long, fuchsia-tinted hair. The other, had short pink hair. The pink-haired girl, was the one she was the most curious about. She had heard fantastic stories about her; how people feared and respected her. The most recent stories, made the girl want to reach out to her. She protected women who had been abused by their husbands or boyfriends. She had driven across the country to save her father. She had even rescued and befriended a fourteen-year-old girl. People were calling her, “The Patron Saint of the Weak”. But her true nickname, was “Valentine”.
“Victoria?”
The girl looked up from the picture when she heard her mother call her from down the hallway. “Yeah, Mom?”
“Don’t you have school in the morning?”
Victoria groaned. “Yeah, Mom.”
“Then go to sleep, honey.”
Victoria sighed, and smiled at the picture again. She thought about the man in the Taurus, who had been staring up at her window, night after night. “Valentine,” she whispered. “I have to find you.”
http://www.woolastonentertainment.com
Valentine 2 is available for sale on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Valentine-2-Patron-Saint/dp/1508511950/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1431630892&sr=8-1&keywords=valentine+2+the+patron+saint
woolastonentertainment.com 