It’s here! The release of Peak and Thrust today means the official end to… *one more time folks, with feeling*… the “Peak and Thrust 12 Day Sneak Peek Event!” It’s been a long haul and I, for one, am glad to be rolling this 18 wheeler into Point: Destination… Ok, I apologize. Apparently my sub-conscience has been enjoying a “Smokey and the Bandit” marathon without inviting my conscience to join in. Well, I hope there was lots of buttered popcorn involved and everybody brought protection.
Now, aren’t you going to miss my quirky sense of humor? Good thing you can find a ton of it in Peak and Thrust… that’s it, folks, final plug. I’m all plugged out but please let my publisher know that I plugged well and with heart. *winks*
As my blog readership has soared this week, I wanted to end this on a particularly memorable note. But how?
I decided to give you a memory. Raw, uncut and something I’d rather forget but know I never will.
During the worst of my times at Auburn University, I skipped classes. A lot of classes. As in almost all. I’m the kid who was never in detention in school, never got a failing grade on a report card, got nothing but gold stars from my teachers. Yeah, I was that annoying kid. However annoying it was though, it was me. It was as much a part of who I was as anything else. I never, ever wanted to fail people. Seeing disappointment in a person’s face was paramount to a punch in the gut for me… Yeah, I guess you could say I was messed up even then but didn’t know it.
Anyhow, I was skipping classes. One of the worst days of that whole experience was also one of my gutsiest I must say. See if you agree…
I had signed up for an Accounting class in my sophomore year. I was pre-engineering but needed the class to meet some requirement or other. In January, I went to the first day of class. We had assigned seating. I was assigned the very first seat on the very first row. I couldn’t have been more noticeable.
The next time I stepped into that class was three months later, on the day of the final. I walked in there and sat my screwed up ass down in my front row seat and took that test the disgusted and rather galled professor handed me. There were whispers. Why the hell wouldn’t there be whispers?
For two and half hours I sat in that class and tried my hardest to pass that final. Never mind the fact that I had missed all the tests, all the assignments, everything of the class. I was determined to pass that last test.
I didn’t. Even after weeks of reading cover to cover that Accounting text book, putting terms to memory, doing every exercise that book gave me, I didn’t pass.
Come on, I didn’t deserve to. I know that.
But I tried. Even though my mind and my co-conspirator of a body wouldn’t let me sit through a single class any more, even though I was drowning in denial, embarrassment and self-hatred, I walked into that classroom on that last day and took that damned test.
What does that say about me? It certainly speaks as to how messed up I was at the time. It absolutely proves that I can be an arrogant bitch on occasion. But I’d like to think that it also shows how I never, ever let go of hope. I dragged that dried up kernel of hope in with me that final day and plopped it up on that desk in front of me.
Gall or guts? It’s your call. To me, it’s simply one of the worst days and best days of my life. Talk about ironic, huh?
Ready for your “final” sneak peek?
Chapter Eleven: Of Trellises and Beady-Eyed Rats and Endings “Her neck crooked to the side as she looked up at Laird like a dog facing off against a yodeler. “You don’t look like one of them,” Philana accused slowly.” (page 160)
Hmm… a bit of a mystery I’ve left you with, huh? I hope it’s just enough of a tickler to welcome Peak and Thrust into your library as you have so graciously welcomed me and my craziness into your lives these past twelve days.
Until next time…
Peak and Thrust available today at Amazon, AllRomance Ebooks and through my publisher:
Good morning and welcome to the penultimate blog for the “Peak and Thrust 12 Day Sneak Peek Event!” Only one more day until you won’t have to hear those words again (I admit they’re a mouthful and my fingers are starting to groan every time I start typing them… bet you didn’t know fingers could groan, huh? Well, hop on my medication train and you’ll learn all sorts of cool things.)
I’ve got to say that the response to yesterday’s “For that 18 year old girl” blog was tremendous! It tied with my Thanksgiving Day “Panic Attack – blog interrupted” high.
As you all seem to warm up to my confessional pieces, I’ll continue in that light until you beg me to stop. I will be turning in novel #9 (Shafts of Torchlight) Saturday, December 3 so you should get another Chloe Stowe blog spree just in time for Christmas. Yes, I am the gift that keeps on giving.
So, on to today’s peek inside my mind…
The joy of anticipation… it is one thing that my mental illness has stolen from me that I would dearly love to have back.
I’m talking about that “kid on Christmas Eve” feeling, that “crossing days off the calendar as your vacation beckons” thrill. Hey, I’m even talking about the mundane “There’s a great movie on tonight; it’ll be great to watch it” warmth that sees us all through a long week… I don’t get to have that anymore.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not so mellowed out on my meds that I don’t get giddy, that I don’t bounce on the balls of my feet like a three year old when my team wins or I get some incredible publishing news. I’m one of the more excitable people you’re likely to ever meet… there lies the sick irony.
Anticipation, the joy of knowing something really good is about to happen, filters through my brain as panic. Talk about crap.
All the same buttons are pushed in my head whether I’m clinging to a cart at Target trying not to pass out (see Thanksgiving Day blog) or am waiting for Santa to come rolling down that chimney.
Book a trip to Paris and what do I get? A bone deep dread, an immediate counting down of the hours that I have left before I have to go. We’re not talking butterflies, here. We’re talking monsters rabid and hungry in your belly and in your head… and it doesn’t go away. It stays with me until whatever it is that I was supposed to be so excited about passes in a haze of exhaustion and a general sense of “Thank God that’s over.”
It’s sad, really.
I miss sitting in front of the fireplace on Christmas Eve. I miss waiting on the “Santa’s” of life. But do you know what’s really messed up?... I still do it. I still wait by the fireplace on December 24th.
So if you’re looking for me on Christmas Eve, you’ll know where to find me. Sick, trembling, panicking, but still waiting on Santa.
Now for your sneak peek of this rainy Sunday morning…
Chapter Ten: Once Upon a Sweltering Detroit Night
“Joey kept staring out at the Alaskan night like maybe if he looked long and hard enough an answer would come riding in on the tail of a Northern Light. He shook his head and pulled his gaze away. Man, he was fucking losing it.” (page 144)
Until tomorrow (Release Day!)…
Chloe Stowe, the woman by the fireside
Good morning and welcome to Iron Bowl Saturday here at the “Peak and Thrust 12 Day Sneak Peek Event!” Yes, college football is the name of the game here in the southeast today. Alabama versus Auburn. “Roll Tide!” vs. “War Eagle!” I’ve grown up with this football rivalry being the basis of all things “sport” in Alabama. Even now as I’ve lived in Florida for 9 years, Iron Bowl Saturday still has a certain electricity in the air, a certain zing that has all your school loyalties abuzz.
Talk about a conundrum in my life.
Back in my high school days, back when mental illness was just something you read about Zelda Fitzgerald having, I won an academic scholarship to Auburn. Talk about being proud. I had always been the kind of kid who studied damned hard all the time. I wasn’t exactly a nerd. My “peeps” were the jocks and I never stepped foot into a science fair, a debating arena or a math competition… just because I was in classes with all those science fair, debating, math aficionados did not stereotype me as a nerd. Nope. Not at all.
Anyhow, I won the scholarship to Auburn, moved down to the Plains in the fall of my 18th year and had literally lost my mind by the spring of my 20th.
I don’t blame Auburn. That would be silly. I would have lost it no matter what great campus I was on. But…
I have nightmares.
Every single night for the last 20 years.
School nightmares of failure and insanity, of fear and of lies. And where do you think my beautiful mind locates all these night terrors? You guessed it. Auburn.
So as I sit here watching the Iron Bowl this afternoon, I will cheer for Auburn. I will cheer for them on behalf of that 18 year old girl who was so proud of earning her scholarship, for the girl who was so proud to be an Auburn Tiger.
The bad stuff I’ll leave for my dreams tonight.
Now, on to your sneak peek of the day…
Chapter Nine: Playing Chicken with God
“An hour later, as one man slept protectively tucked up against the chest of the other on a now damp bed, words of love were whispered and one heart was lost irretrievably to another.” (page 122)
I wish every one of you a terrific Thanksgiving Saturday! Only two more days until Peak and Thrust premieres. The butterflies in my gut are already getting a little nauseous… with that lovely visual I will leave you all with a “War Eagle!”
Good morning and welcome to Day Nine of… (shall we all repeat it together now?)… the “Peak and Thrust 12 Day Sneak Peek Event!” Yeah! No, no, make that a “Freaking Yeah!”
Yes, world, I have returned and brought most of my questionable senses with me. After a day of recovery from not only the Target “incident” but actually blogging about said incident yesterday, I rejoin you today in full bluster (ignore the Chloe shaking behind the keyboard, she is just a grainy illusion reflecting reality).
To be honest, I’m feeling a little intimidated today. Yesterday’s blog had the most readers of any of my blogs ever (we’re talking 99 readers, folks, just Wow!). So how is a girl supposed to follow that up, especially when warring with Black Friday sales (excuse the pause here for a promotional plug for my publisher’s sake…) a Black Friday that includes all of my books half price at AllRomance Ebooks this weekend?
The answer is: she doesn’t.
Won’t even try.
The last thing I’m throwing here is a pity party. There will be no milking of mental disorders for viewership numbers.
I’m keeping it real, so a good day (such as today) is a good day in my blogging world. Bright, sunny, brimming forth with romance and smut… yep, it’s a sparkly day in the Chloe Stowe universe. Please put on your shades and enjoy!
Since my mental hiccup yesterday wiped out your daily chapter sneak peek, today you get a double dose of Peak and Thrust. Now, see? Don’t you just love my sparkly days?...
Chapter Seven: Riding the Sweet Wrath of a Hurricane
“Laird looked up… and he was lost.” (page 84)
Chapter Eight: Five Weeks to Love
“Follow? Ah, another clue. Joey had definitely followed this hairy male specimen into the bed because there was no doubt that he was currently playing the little spoon in this silverware drawer. A little finagling of his hips and ass cheeks and the proof was definitely found in the pudding. The big spoon still had his dick up the little spoon’s ass.” (page 94)
I wanted to give you a taste of both the dramatic and the erotic. Did I succeed? I hope so.
Well, folks, I think I’ll leave you there for today. I’ve got 2k words I need to put into Shafts of Torchlight (third in the Hellesgate Series) today, so I will take my momentary sparkles and sprinkle them liberally over novel #9. So when you find a giggle in Shafts of Torchlight know that you were there when that giggle was born.
Until tomorrow… Thank you for reading and sharing in my manically messed up but glorious world.
First and foremost: Happy Thanksgiving! For the rest of this I can only apologize and try to explain.
I hesitate to even write this blog today, but I promised myself that I would keep this blogging event “real.” Rotten tomatoes are available at the front door for you to toss spiritedly at me as you file out.
Here it goes…
Yesterday, I had a bad panic attack. For those of you who aren’t intimately familiar with my bio, I’ve been suffering from chronic, debilitating attacks for the last 20 years. They forced me out of college, out of the hopes of holding any job and barricaded me in my room for an embarrassing amount of time. About fifteen years ago, I started on some pretty heavy meds that have allowed me to operate a little more normally. I was able to go back and finish school (I even got a Masters Degree from FSU… still can’t believe that one). And while I’m still unable to hold a job outside of my writing, I live a happy, independent life mostly in the sunshine.
Yesterday, the shadows sucked me back in big time. Mental illness can be that kind of sneaky bastard, and may I say that I hate him with a passion.
I went Christmas shopping at Target Wednesday afternoon. I’m usually able to shop without too much problems. Over the last few years my ever developing and morphing panic disorder has decided to attack me more physically than mentally. While the meds apparently keep my mind from frying during an attack, the rest of my body still goes into extreme panic mode.
I lose my breath.
My world narrows down to a pinpoint. The dizziness is terrible. My legs threaten to buckle. My internal temperature either skyrockets or plummets.
Did I mention I can’t catch my breath?
Literally, I barely made it out of Target yesterday. I clung to the grocery cart trying to keep myself from passing out. It was bad. Very bad.
Today, I thank God for getting me out of there. I thank God for giving me the strength (or is it an overblown self-importance?) to write this blog today. I thank God that most days I can breathe, that my world is not a pinpoint, that I don’t have to cling to anything but my faith.
Until tomorrow when you’ll receive two sneak peeks to make up for the lack of today’s.
I thank you for listening, for reading and for dragging me out into the sunshine every day.
Happy Wednesday-before-Thanksgiving! As we all make our last dashes to the grocery store to pick up turkeys, cranberries, sweet potatoes and whipped cream (personally, my favorite), I thank you for spending a little part of these special days with me. Whether you are expecting a cattle-call type of event to your dining room table or if it’s more of a one-on-one celebration with a loved one, be it human, feline or canine, I wish you the very best. Eat, drink and be merry, one and all!
After giving thanks for all the blessings we have received this year, we often end up giving in to all sorts of off-the-wall cravings these few days. Be it one too many tankards of eggnog, or one too many games of not-so-touch football with the former linebacker neighbor, or one too many hours of George Bailey running down the streets of Bedford Falls, we all seem to indulge in our own unique ways. I chose your tease of the day to reflect just that…
Chapter Six: Taste’s Temptation
“Joey Ballios was a man who liked having his sex. He wasn’t obsessed with it by any means, but he’d never really understood the whole concept of doing without when a man could do with.” (page 60)
While romantic flights of fancy very rightfully take a backseat these holiday weeks, I appreciate you continuing to share in mine. All of you are my blessing.
Good Tuesday morning everyone! As it looks like I’m going to be spending my day dodging tornadoes again, I figured I’d make today’s post short and sweet… especially since you get a peek at the cover of Peak and Thrust as a special treat.
Let me count the ways that I love this cover… Better yet I’ll let you count the ways and you can get back to me with a nice concise list. Spare no adjectives, however. I live for adjectives. *grins*
As for your tease into Chapter Five, I proudly give you the following tidbit…
Chapter Five: The Coarse Wool of the Dark
“Yeah, the Fates better know what the hell they were doing because Joey Ballios didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.” (page 58)
Yes, by Chapter Five we’re hitting some heavy emotional stuff… the meat and bones to any memorable romance. And believe me Joey and Laird’s tale is a deeply romantic one. So don’t let the delicious cover fool you into expecting only really hot guys doing really hot things to one another… although there’s plenty of that… plenty. (And that ladies and gents is your tease for the day!)
Until tomorrow, stay safe…
Good morning, world at large! If you have made it here for Day Five I assume you were able to survive Day Four. I applaud you, and I thank you. My darker days can get pretty dark and I only share them with you in hopes of enlightening everyone to the often muted struggles people with mental illness must battle through every day. Your return today makes my heart swell. Thank you.
Now, on to the smut!
What shall we talk about today? Well, since we’ve already had a brief expose on mountain man Laird Fox, why don’t we share a Joey Ballios moment?
Ah, Joey. I love him so. He’s the first cop I have ever written which amazes me really. Growing up, I always enamored by cop shows. Men of the shield intrigue me, tease me with their sense of lawfulness while carrying a big, bad gun and tickle all my good spots with their hero complexes. Let’s face it, folks: cops are hot… at least the fictional ones are. Hopefully Officer Ballios of the Detroit P.D. will fall into that sizzling category for you. I know he certainly stoked my fires. *grins*
When I was describing Laird a few days ago (let me just say here, that if I start footnoting myself in these blogs, I’m throwing myself off the nearest barn roof), I described him as a black and white kind of a guy… an attitude usually associated with cops. I wanted to switch things around a little. I wanted to make Joey be the guy who lives in the world of grays. I think it’s an interesting twist and I honestly think it works really well in Peak and Thrust. I sincerely hope you all agree.
So without further lollygagging on my part, here is your sneak peek of the day!
Chapter Four: Home Truths with Betty White
“Joey wasn’t about to make this guy too comfortable. Call it cop sense or animal heat.” (page 48)
Now, come on folks, how many romantic smut authors can give you Betty White with their hot ass men? I think I deserve a cookie for this one.
As Thanksgiving week dawns and Black Friday nears, I leave you all today with a reminder that Hard Wood, Soft Heart will be half-price on Friday at AllRomance Ebooks. I’m only one of 12 Ravenous authors being given this promotion honor so please keep me and my men in mind. I really don’t want to be laughed off the platform with the likes of Ryan Field, etc. (you know, the big guns). Yes, this is a plea. There is no shame in begging… right? *smiles*
Until tomorrow, may the only cops you dance with be superbly hung fictional ones.
Excuse me, but has anybody seen the sun? You know, big orange heavenly blob that makes the world a prettier place to be? I was told by numerous sources on the Weather Channel that it was supposed to be here today. In fact, I counted on it being here. Had all my merry little plans made for a bright and shiny Sunday afternoon of football and romance, writing and holiday-making…
I think I’ve been stood up.
Bummer… No, really.
Ready or not here comes a peek into my messed up world. I warned you this might happen and here it is. File all complaints with Mr. Jim Cantore and the fake little sun he plopped over my head last night.
Honestly, I’m on a lot of medication for my panic attacks. I have been for many years. With these meds I’ve been able to weasel out a mostly doable life that has me playing in the sun a lot more than just surviving in the shadows. Yeah, I know, not a pretty picture… but a lot of Picasso’s stuff wasn’t pretty either but they turned out to masterpieces in the end. So, here’s to hoping that there’s a little bit of Picasso buried deep down beneath the screwed up fear.
Anyhow, it’s hard to “play in the sun” when there’s no sun. Not kidding, here. Sometimes the sun and a beautiful blue sky seems to play as important a role in my struggling mental health as the meds. I know a lot of people with depression feel the same way. It’s fine if it’s raining, snowing is glorious, but when the day is just this big heavy brick of gray ugliness my mind just settles back in its perpetual shadows and burrows itself in for the duration.
And see now that I have actually complained to you about it, I feel even worse. What kind of crap is that?
Well, on days like these you all are truly the manifestation of the song, “You are my sunshine.” I’ll more than likely write the day away, running toward the sunshine your happy, satisfied faces bring me when I’m able to deliver a good story to you… Sounds lame, I know. But the truth of my life often is a little crooked and off-putting, so lame just about fits perfectly here.
As I leave you this day with your Chapter Three excerpt, I wish you all sunshine and little Picasso’s in the shady corners of your souls…
Chapter Three: Powdered Sugar Clues
“The amount of skin stretched over the perfectly sculpted six pack and deeply barreled ribs gave Laird such a head rush that he found himself reaching back and grabbing at a wall just in case his knees decided to join his dick on its unplanned trip around the moon.” (page 39)
A good Saturday morning to one and all! Are we ready to dive into Day Three? Yes, picture this blog as a big pile of crisp, colorful leaves just waiting for a free spirit such as yourself to fling their body and soul into its autumnal crunchiness and splendor…
Well, it was a thought.
Despite my lack of crinkly fall goodness, I hope you will enjoy your daily visit to Chloe-land. To get things rolling, here is your sneak peek at Chapter Two of Peak and Thrust:
Chapter Two: Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am
Joey rolled his eyes at Laird as he waved Alma over for another beer. “I’ve got a coroner on my speed dial. Do you really want to be messing with that?” (page 26)
Humor, or at least what I think is humor, is very important in my stories. If there’s no laughter there can be no love… or so I like to think.
A lot of people correctly call my characters “quirky.” I take that as a good thing. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to read about a bunch of Barbie dolls smashing their perfect grins into each other’s cemented smiles. If I wanted “plastic love” I’d go get out my Ken dolls and G.I. Joe’s and have them go at it on the rug… Hmm, not a bad idea entirely. On a slow afternoon when your Kindle is on the fritz, why not? (Call your psychiatrist here if you are finding no reasons to “Why not?”)
But I digress.
I do hope you enjoy my attempt at bringing a few good chuckles into your life… hey, it may not exactly be on the same level of the crunchies a good pile of leaves brings you, but at least it’s something, right?
Now, go leap into this crisp fall day… and don’t forget to take your Ken and Joe’s with you. *grins*