Twinepathy’s Birthday + Forcefield Cover Reveal Signups (!!!)

Hullo, friends! I am so excited about today’s post, but first I must say… It isn’t Tuesday! I have deviated from my new blogging schedule (both accidentally and on purpose) since today is the 4 year anniversary of Twinepathy‘s release. It’s hard to believe it’s been so long! And I’m very excited to announce that IDIA #3 is on it’s way! While I don’t have a release date set quite yet, I am planning a cover reveal for August 4th, and I need your help! There’s a sign-up at the bottom of this post, so if you’re interested in helping out with the cover reveal, please fill out the form.

As for Twinepathy‘s birthday, I give you all virtual cake! 😀

IDIA #3 Current Status:

Name: Forcefield

Pages: 59

Words: 16,599

Cheesy puns: at least 2 (so far…)

Sign-up link: https://forms.gle/XWxZZ6eG85gKpsge7

 

Are you excited about the cover reveal? I know I am! Can you believe it’s been four years since Twinepathy was released? Comment below with any questions, comments, or concerns, and make sure to share this form with anyone who may want to participate! I hope you’re all as excited about book 3 as I am! 😀 

Blog Tour: Beast of the Night by E.E. Rawls Review

Hullo, friends! Today I am participating in the release tour for Beast of the Night by E.E. Rawls. This book just came out, and it’s a fantasy retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Without further ado, let’s get into the post!

Book Blurb:

A one-armed, practical girl. A rude lord hiding a curse. A dark secret with the town’s fate hanging in the balance.

A Beauty and the Beast retelling with an Austrian twist and a new breed of curse.

When Rosen moves to Freudendorf—a secluded town in the Alps—with her dad, he vanishes on her and the debt collectors come to call: taking her into slave labor. As if that wasn’t bad enough, just when all her hopes and dreams for a normal life are ruined, a frail zombie-like butler purchases her: taking her to serve Lord Varick, who currently resides in the forbidden castle near the salt mines, where the Beast of the Night is said to roam.

Varick is handsome, with an attitude that’s the exact opposite. The servants aren’t human, and the castle itself is an ugly wreck. But if Rosen cannot solve the dark secret spreading beneath Freudendorf, and the curse holding Varick’s cold heart, then both they and the town will fall prey to a waiting evil—and worse, even lose their memory of it.

Book Purchase Links:

AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | GOODREADS

 

Author Bio:

E.E. Rawls is the product of a traveling family, who even lived in Italy for 6 years. She loves exploring the unknown, whether it be in a forest, inside a forgotten castle, or within the pages of a book.

She runs on coffee, cuddly cats and the beauty of nature to keep the story wheels of her mind running, as she writes tales that will both entertain and inspire others, giving them worlds they can explore and become lost within.

WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM

 

My Review:

Disclaimer: I received a free copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

There may be minor spoilers in this review, so be forewarned if you want to go into this book not knowing anything. No major plot points will be spoiled!

What I liked: The character building in this book was wonderful! I felt like I really got to know Rosen, and I loved that she didn’t let missing an arm stop her throughout the story. As someone who’s been reading and writing a lot about disabilities lately, it was so awesome to read a story where the disability wasn’t a major plot point. It was handled really well without being a main focal point, and I highly applaud the author for that!

The plot was done really nicely, too, and I especially loved some of the twists close to the end. I really liked the twists on the classic Beauty and Beast story, especially on the curse.

And can I take a second to appreciate how awesome the Austrian setting is?? The cultural aspects that came up were awesome, and the setting itself was beautifully described. I think it was a great choice and it played into the story really well.

What I didn’t: Personally, I’ve never been a fan of books with vampires, and while technically this book doesn’t have any vampires per se… they’re basically vampires. That wasn’t something I was really expecting, but if that’s not something that bothers you, then go for it! My only other issue was a few unanswered questions I had, but that could be because the author may be planning a sequel.

Overall, if this sounds like a book you’d be interested in reading, you should definitely check it out!

 

Blog Release Tour Schedule:

June 11th

https://rawlse.wordpress.com/2020/06/01/it-has-finally-r…y-tale-retelling/ ‎-opening

http://www.jenelleschmidt.com -review

12th

https://bookslesstravelledreviews.wordpress.com -review & spotlight

13th

https://elizabethdragina.files.wordpress.com -review

15th

https://www.hsjwilliams.com/blog -spotlight

16th

http://www.djedwardson.com -spotlight

17th

https://www.rachaelritchey.com -review

18th

http://www.hlburkeauthor.com/blog -spotlight

19th

https://abigailfalangaauthor.wordpress.com -review & spotlight

Sarah Ashwood  -spotlight

20th

https://twitter.com/justviews -spotlight

21st

http://www.kylerobertshultz.com -spotlight

22nd

https://christinesmithauthor.com/ -review

http://www.jlmbewe.com/blog/ -review

23rd

https://thepagedreamer.wordpress.com -spotlight

24th

https://triciamingerink.com/blog/ -spotlight

25th

https://theworldofthewriter.wordpress.com -review

26th

https://wordsofhannahkay.wordpress.com/  -review & spotlight

https://rawlse.wordpress.com/blog/ -closing

6 Tips for Writing Superheroes

Hullo, friends! As promised, here is the superhero post I talked about when I shared my superhero poem with you last week! Maybe you like superheroes, maybe you like writing, and maybe you want to start writing about superheroes. Just like anything related to writing, this is harder than you might think. While I don’t claim to be an expert on writing about superheroes, I do have quite a bit of experience, and one thing I’ve learned is that writing about superheroes is about way more than just writing about people with crazy abilities.

So here are a few tips from my own experience and what I’ve noticed in other superhero books and movies to help you when you’re creating and writing your heroes (complete with a lot of Marvel gifs).

[This post contains major spoilers (through gifs) for Captain America: Civil War and some minor spoilers for early MCU films. Also, FEELS warning!)

Continue reading

Poem: Falling

Hello, friends! Look who’s sticking to their schedule (so far)! Today I thought I’d share another poem that I wrote in my poetry class. Sometimes we had prompts, sometimes we didn’t, but the prompt for this poem was “death.” I had written a sad poem the week before, so I though I would add a twist to the end of this one. Just a note, this was written in February or March of this year. Hope you enjoy!

 

Falling

C.B. Cook

 

His best friend was dying.

 

He’d seen it happen to others.

Her skin turned a sickly shade,

her skin was too dry

and even though she denied it,

he could tell

she was barely hanging on.

 

Then it happened.

Falling,

sinking,

she shrunk away,

dropping to rest under their tree.

 

If he could cry, he would.

He felt himself beginning to fade, too,

and found it harder to hold on.

He longed

to join her

in the earth

below.

 

But,

as he watched,

a toddler with a bright red cap

picked his best friend off the ground

and proclaimed,

“My leaf!”

 

What did you think of that poem? Do you like poetry? Comment down below and let me know what you think!

An Update For You!

Hullo, my friends! I hope you are all doing well during this crazy time! Today I bring you the update post I talked about in my last post. I wanted to let you guys know a little bit of what’s going on and what my plans are for blogging and writing.

  • Writing: I’ll admit, writing has fallen a bit to the side in the past year or so. While finishing up my last year of college, most of my writing time was spent on my thesis. Currently, I plan on writing IDIA 3, and then switching over to work on one of my other writing projects (I haven’t decided which one yet!). I’ve set a goal of reaching 15,000 words on IDIA 3 by the end of May, which should be a pretty attainable goal, and hopefully, I’ll be able to start looking for beta readers and sharing snippets soon!
  • Blogging: In case you hadn’t noticed… I’ve been very bad at keeping up with the blogging side of things! One of my goals for the rest of the month is to set up a blogging schedule and prewriting some posts. My current plan is to post something every Tuesday–and I’m telling you all that so that you can bug me about it when I forget! 😀 I’m hoping that having a set schedule will help me to post more regularly, and if I have to adjust that later, I can do so. I mostly want to have a set schedule to encourage me to post more often.
  • Reading: If there’s one thing that I have kept up with, it’s been reading! My original reading goal for this year was 20 books, but I’ve already increased that to 26, because I’ve read more books than I thought I would. At this point, I’ve read 17 books, so I may end up increasing my goal again. Many of the books I’ve read have been rereads, but I’ve also been reading through a lot of Brandon Sanderson’s books. His books are amazing, and he even has a series of writing class videos on his YouTube channel, which you should definitely check out if you’re a writer.

So that’s the first post of (hopefully) many more! What are your thoughts on blogging schedules? Are you excited about IDIA 3? Comment below your thoughts, and let me know if there are any blog posts or series you’d like to see me do!

Can I Get Your IDIAs, Please?

Hullo, friends! I’ve been away from the blogosphere on and off for a while, and I have to say, I’ve missed it! I’m working on an update post to let you guys know what’s going on (and possibly a blogging schedule to help keep me on track??), but in the meantime, I need your help with a little project. See, I’ve been working on IDIA #3, and at this point, I’m trying to figure out where the series is going.

So that’s where you guys come in! If you’ve read any of the IDIA books and you’re interested in the rest of the series, please take a minute or two to fill out this short survey! It only has a couple of questions, so it shouldn’t take too long, and getting some outside thoughts would help me a ton.

Either way, you guys are the best! Watch for my update post coming soon!

Poem: Too Fast

Well, hello, friends! Look who’s posting something more than once a month! As I mentioned earlier this year, I have a poetry class this semester where I have to write a poem once a week. I’ve found that I actually enjoy writing poetry sometimes, as long as I get to write about something that makes sense to me. So here’s a poem that I wrote before spring break (and coronavirus), that I thought I’d share with all of you! Enjoy!

 

Too Fast

C.B. Cook

 

Slow.

Down.

You’re too busy.

 

You’re always running around with your head turned down to your phone and working on homework and going to work and wasting time while you keep going and going and going and never taking a breath or stopping and never taking time to actually look at the people around you while you’re absorbed in your own little life not even noticing how the days and months flit past you and no matter what I do I can’t get you to

 

look

up.

 

See the stars.

See the clouds.

Breathe in the

fresh, clean air

after the rain.

See the sunset

reflected in the pond,

setting the water ablaze.

 

Just.

Stop.

Breathe.

 

So there’s the poem! What are your thoughts on poetry? Like it, love it, hate it? Let me know your thoughts in the comments below!

Want Some Free E-Books?

Well, hello, everyone! It’s nice to (virtually) see all of you in all of this craziness. With schools moving online, work canceled, and various levels of quarantines going on, I’ve found myself with a bit of extra time on my hands, and I know a lot of other people have, too.

Because of that, this week, the e-book versions of all of my books will be FREE on Amazon!

Monday/Tuesday: Twinepathy

Wednesday/Thursday: The Villain Who Saved Christmas

Friday/Saturday: Lightporter

All Week: Paralyzed Dreams

My whole goal in writing and publishing these books has been to share clean, fun, uplifting books, the kind of books that I want to read. So share this deal with your friends and family, especially those who might need a fun read, and enjoy them yourself if you haven’t already! If you haven’t already followed my Facebook page, I’ll be posting reminders when each book goes on sale.

A Poem About Poetry

Hello, wonderful people! Long time no post, eh? College has been pretty crazy lately. This semester, though, I’m in a poetry class, and I’ve been enjoying it quite a bit! Since we’re required to write a poem every week, that also means that I have some writing to share with you guys. I hope you enjoy this poem, the first one that I wrote for the class. Now on to the poem!

 

It Was

C.B. Cook

 

It was pain.

I fumed inwardly,

glaring at the page,

struggling to form words,

ideas,

thoughts.

But the poem wouldn’t come.

Minutes passed.

A word came.

Then another.

Before long,

the page began to fill.

Lines about love,

anguish,

fear

sprouted from my soul.

I set down my pen

and smiled.

I looked back over my poem

and frowned.

It was word vomit.

 

I hope you enjoyed that poem! Let me know your thoughts in the comments below. And let me know what you’ve been up to!

Short Story: Not Fair

Hullo, friends! This is another short story that’s a little different from what I usually write, since it’s historical fiction. It was really interesting for me to try a new genre with a time period that I don’t write in often (late 1700s). This is a little more on the serious side, too. Hope you enjoy!

I thought I knew what loneliness was, but as I watched my closest friend get into her father’s carriage, I realized I had no idea. I felt a surge of sadness overcome me, and I pressed my face against the glass, gazing after the carriage as it bumped into the distance along the road leading away from my family’s plantation. I was glad she had come to say goodbye, but now I was left staring out at the cotton fields that stretched in every direction, big and lonely. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. My dearest friend was leaving her family’s nearby plantation and moving all the way to Philadelphia, and I was alone.

“Phoebe, dear, don’t get smudges on the window.” The voice was distant and distracted, and I turned to see my mother starting a new row on her stitching, hardly glancing at me. I huffed and sat on the sofa, slumping backward. I was only 10, the youngest child of five siblings, and as the only one condemned to a life indoors and the only one still living at home, I often felt forgotten.

“Posture, Phoebe,” my mother reprimanded, and I begrudgingly forced myself to sit up straight.

“Mother,” I said hesitantly, glancing sideways. Mother didn’t look up from her stitching. How did she even manage to sew with her pregnant belly in the way? “Can I go outside today?”

Mother looked up and gave me a sharp look. “You know you can’t. It’s too hot outside, we don’t want you fainting.”

I sighed. It was always either too hot or too cold for me to go out. From the time I was a baby, I had breathing problems when I get too active or stay outside too long, and my parents decided I should stay in the house, except on especially nice days. Since my mom had been dealing with all of my older sisters and their marriages, I had always had to find my own entertainment indoors.

I stood and excused myself from the room, walking out in the dignified manner of a young lady, just as my mother had taught me. Once I was in the hall and out of view, though, I skipped off towards the kitchen. I peeked into the open doorway and caught sight of Hanna pulling pastries out of the oven.

I slipped into the kitchen, and Hanna looked in my direction. A sympathetic look crossed her face, and she wiped her dark, work-worn hands on her apron before stretching her arms out to me. I leaned into the embrace, burying my face in her flour-dusted apron. I finally let the tears come, and my shoulders shook as I sobbed. Hanna just whispered soothingly into my ear, gently stroking my hair.

Finally, I ran out of tears, and I pulled back. Hanna handed me a dishcloth, giving me a gentle smile. A spot of flour on her cheek stands out against her dark skin. “It’s alright, miss.”

I wiped my sleeve across my face, unsuccessfully trying to clear away my tears. “But my closest friend just left me forever. How am I ever going to find another friend if I can’t even leave the house?” I sniffed, my nose starting to run from the tears. “Why do people have to move away and leave?”

Hanna smiled at me, but it was a smile with lots of sadness behind it. “I don’t know, miss. I wish I did. But most of the time, it’s out of our control.” She turned away and started to take the pastries off of the baking sheet.

I moved over and stood next to her, looking up at her face. Her eyes were watering. “Hanna, why are you so sad?”

Hanna smiled down at me and wiped her hand across her eyes. “Oh, no, miss, don’t worry about me.” She turned and handed me one of the pastries. “I made them with raspberry, your favorite. Now run along. I know you have that book you were wanting to read.”

I obeyed and scampered off down the hall. I spent most of the rest of the day reading until my mother made me work on my embroidery. I didn’t mind embroidery, but my mind longed for the outdoors, and it was easy to miss a stitch when your mind was wandering through the cotton fields or to a big city like Philadelphia. The odd thing was that I also found myself wondering why Hanna was so sad, too. That alone took my mind off of my own problems.

The good news was that I only stabbed myself in the finger twice. My mom lectured me on paying attention and not getting blood on my embroidery, but I barely listened. I waited for her to take a breath during the lecture and jumped in with my own question.

“Mother, why is Hanna so sad?” I asked, looking up slightly from my embroidery.

Mother hesitated in her pacing. “Phoebe, darling, you needn’t concern yourself with the slaves.” She turned and I felt her eyes on me, although I pretended to be absorbed in my embroidery. “You may be the mistress of this house someday, if you do not find a husband, and if so, you need to have the proper attitude towards the slaves.”

I finally looked up at her. “So you don’t care why Hanna is sad?”

Her eyes turned fierce and felt like they were boring a hole in me. “Phoebe, it is not your place. They are your father’s property, nothing more.”

I almost said She’s my friend, but something in my mother’s look makes me hold back. “Yes, Mother,” I said instead and turned my eyes back to my stitching.

Later that night, I lie in bed in my room upstairs, simply trying to go to sleep, but what my mother said nagged at my mind. Why couldn’t Hanna be my friend? Finally, my thoughts overwhelmed me, and I decided to sneak down and get another pastry from the kitchen. I slid out of bed, the hem of my nightgown brushing against the floor. I stepped carefully across the wooden floorboards, making sure to avoid the spots that I knew would creak. I left my door slightly cracked to avoid making too much noise.

The house was fairly quiet as I snuck to the stairs. I could hear doors closing somewhere else in the house, and golden candlelight flickered from my father’s study. The murmur of my parents’ voices barely reached my ears. I hesitated on the top stair, not sure if I should chance going past my parents to get my pastry. Finally, though, my craving won out over my fear of getting in trouble, and I crept quietly down the stairs. Being inside all the time had helped me learn where all of the creaky spots were on the stairs, too, so I managed to sneak downstairs without a sound.

At the bottom of the stairs, I paused again. My parents’ voices were clear enough now that I could make out what they were saying, and I heard my own name. I knew it was wrong to listen, but I couldn’t help but move closer to the doorway to my father’s study.

“She was bordering on disrespect, Elias.” My mother’s light footsteps betrayed her pacing. “Do you think we’ve been too soft with her, letting her interact with the slaves?”

“Possibly.” Father’s deep voice sounded like he was only halfway paying attention to my mother. “But she does have a lack of companionship.”

A chair creaked as my mom sat in it. “Elias. I’m afraid that when the time comes for her to take charge of the household, if that occurs, she won’t have the proper attitude towards the slaves.”

The sound of Father’s chair scraping back from his desk made me jump. “Perhaps you’re right, Amelia. What do you propose we do about it?”

Mother sighed. “We need to find her some kind of companionship. I don’t know how, though.” She paused. “Do you think Hanna could be putting ideas in her head, ones about slaves that shouldn’t be there?”

Father’s voice grew serious. “Do you believe that could be possible?”

“I don’t know.” Mother’s voice was shaky. “We’ve always trusted Hanna, but what if she has misused that trust?”

My stomach churned, and I couldn’t bear to listen any longer. I crept towards the stairs quietly, unsure of what to think any more. These were all new and confusing things to think about. I was so absorbed in trying to decipher what “ideas” my parents were talking about that I forgot to watch where I was walking. I stepped directly on a creaky spot, and the sound echoed through the house.

I froze. My parents had gone completely silent behind me. For a second that felt like a minute, I thought I might be able to get away with it. But my father’s footsteps echoed as he hurried into the hall.

“Phoebe.” My name was said with a combination of sternness and surprise. I turned slowly around to face him.

“Father, I—” My mother appeared behind him, looking at me in disbelief, and I couldn’t finish my sentence.

“Young lady, you will go right to bed this instant.” Father’s voice was firm and unyielding, and I ducked my head. “We will discuss the consequences of your eavesdropping in the morning.”

My mother walked me up to my room and made sure I got into bed. I tried to explain to her that I just wanted to get a pastry, but she shook her head at me. “You listened in on a conversation that was not meant for your ears. That is certainly not becoming of a young lady.” She left me alone in my room, and I felt tears slip down my cheeks for the second time that day. I was afraid of what my punishment might be, and I longed to find Hanna and get a comforting hug from her.

Somehow I managed to fall asleep, and the next morning I went downstairs, making a beeline straight for the kitchen. To my surprise, a different woman was in the kitchen. I vaguely remembered her name being Betsey.

“Where’s Hanna?” I asked, looking around in confusion. She rarely let anyone work in the kitchen without her supervision.

The other woman looked up from peeling potatoes. Sadness dripped from her gaze, the same sadness I’d seen in Hanna’s eyes the day before. “Go talk to your parents, miss. They should be in the dinin’ room.”

I backed out of the kitchen and fled down the hall towards the dining room. A sinking feeling of dread sat in my stomach like a rock. What terrible thing had my parents done? I found them at the table, eating their breakfast as if nothing had happened. I walked slowly into the room, slightly afraid that if I entered, things wouldn’t be the same.

Father noticed me first and motioned for me to sit down. “How did you sleep last night, Phoebe?”

“Where’s Hanna?” I asked, hesitating next to my chair.

My parents exchanged glances, but my father was the one to speak. “Phoebe, we decided that you were getting too attached to Hanna. We sent her off to auction this morning.”

My hands started to shake, and I gripped the chair to keep myself upright. “Bu-but… last night, that was my fault! I shouldn’t have eavesdropped and snuck downstairs, but those were my own actions. Why are you punishing Hanna?”

My mother set down her teacup. “Phoebe, dear, your father is right. You’ve been getting too attached to Hanna. It’s not proper. She is our property to do with as we please, as are the rest of the slaves.” She paused and looked at me. “As were her son and her husband.”

The rock in my stomach tightened, changing to a fist that clenched my stomach and wouldn’t let go, and I slumped into the chair. My parents looked at me, a mix of sympathy and sternness on their faces. “It’s not fair,” I whispered.

It’s not fair.

So there’s my historical fiction story! What did you think? Comment below with your thoughts, and what other posts you’d like to see. I love talking with you guys!