Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
First came a terrorist attack. Then the mutations—and Fey who had lived in harmony with humans turned deadly. Now, most people hide behind iron gates. But those who are immune—and those with enough courage—can venture into the Louisiana Delta . . . and a nightmare world of magic.
No good deed goes unpunished…
Annabelle Lee, a Fairy Containment and Control agent blessed—or cursed—with immunity to Fairy venom, is once again called upon to help solve a murder deep in the bayou. But this investigation is off the books and her ex-lover, Hitch, is leading the hunt for a secret chemical weapons lab and an FBI mole providing it with human lab rats.
Helping Hitch means certain interpersonal disaster with her estranged boyfriend, but Annabelle knows exactly what it feels like to be a lab rat. Her new, fairy-attack-induced paranormal powers seem to have few negative side effects, but would that change if she stopped injecting herself with the mystery drug delivered to her by the even more mysterious—not to mention ridiculously attractive—Tucker? A man who can turn invisible at will, and who makes no bones about how dead she’ll be if she reveals his secrets.
As the murder investigation progresses, Annabelle learns Tucker isn’t the only one with secrets, and that the only thing that cuts deeper than a friend’s deception, are the lies we tell ourselves.
Learn more at the Simon and Schuster site: http://books.simonandschuster.com/Blood-on-the-Bayou/Stacey-Jay/9781439189870
Pre-order at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books-a-Million, Itunes, Indiebound, or wherever you like to be buying your books. (And please do pre-order if you have a mind to. Those advanced sales can mean a lot to a new series.)
Excerpt from Chapter One:
“Because you mostly suck. Even the FCC isn’t sure they want you any more,” Grace says. “I mean, who gets suspended from a job scooping fairy poop? Can’t a monkey do your job?”
She crosses her arms and huffs, sending a piece of lip flapping. “Don’t think I’ll stop telling the truth just because you stop fighting back.”
“You’re not telling the truth.”
“I am.” She floats close enough that the tingle becomes a sting. “I’m a messenger from the other side.”
“You’re chips with jalapeno sauce and refried beans.”
“Really?” Her face snaps into sharper focus and suddenly the air seems colder, and the nightmare bigger. A breeze ruffles the bottom of my t-shirt. I fist it in my fingers, needing something to hold onto as the feeling that we’re not alone raises goose bumps on my bare legs. “Could chips with jalapeno sauce do this?” She lifts her small, white hands and the glow beneath her skin becomes a blinding light.
I wince and squeeze my eyes closed, throwing my arms up to block the glare as the wind starts to blow in earnest. It blasts in from every direction at once, a twister that rushes through my legs and whips my hair into a wild red tangle. It smacks and patters and beats at my skin and then I feel it—unbearably soft, hot flesh brushing against mine, and the tickle of silky wings.
This isn’t wind. It’s a swarm of fairies.
My eyes fly open. They’re everywhere. The air is alive with naked humanoid bodies glowing pink and gold, flat, black eyes, and rows and rows and rows of teeth. Every one of them has their detachable jaw dropped and their layers of shark-like fangs out for show and tell. I’m immune to their venom, but I know how badly those teeth hurt when they break the skin, how freely even one bite will bleed.
This many fairies could kill me. They would die after, but if enough of them dig in for a suicide nibble, I’ll bleed to death and all the immunity in the world won’t matter.
“Dead woman,” a voice rasps in my ear. I flinch and scream and brush wildly at my head. I knock the fairy away, but he flies around to hover in front of my nose, his ancient prune face screwed up in a scowl.
He’s easily the oldest fairy I’ve ever seen. About two inches from head to foot, with a concave chest that gives way to bony ribs and a belly that sags like an empty pouch. His skin is more yellow than gold and even his eyes seem duller than the rest of the fairies’, but his teeth are just as sharp.
I get an up close and personal inspection when he bares them in a hiss. “Dead,” he shouts around his mouthful of fangs. “Dead. Dead. Dead!”
Spittle flies into my eyes, but I swallow the scream rising in my throat. My eyes feel like they’re burning, but they aren’t. This isn’t real. Fairies can’t talk. Grace is dead. And I would never go for a stroll in the bayou in my underwear.
Just a dream. A stupid dream!
“Your last nightmare,” the old fairy assures me in a voice like sandpaper scraping down my spine. “Leave the breeding ground of the Slake.”
“We suffer no more Gentry. Not now. Never!” He jabs an angry thumb over his shoulder and the crush of fairies parts, revealing Grace and her glowing hands.
“No. Not me! Not me! You promised!” Her ruined mouth drops open and her eyes fly wide and then they’re on her.
The fairy swarm descends and Grace’s skin blossoms with red. One, two, three, ten, fifty blooms, like she’s being hit with tiny paintball pellets that burst open and soak into her nightgown. She screams and it feels like the entire world will shatter from the agony in the sound, but I can’t close my eyes and I can’t take a step toward her. I’m frozen, with the shriveled old fairy fluttering near my cheek, grinning his yellow grin as Grace’s skin is stripped from her bones.
“Stop!” I try to shout, but it comes out a whisper, almost unintelligible over the screeches of the feedings fairies.
They’re ripping mouthfuls of her away, chomping and chewing and flinging scraps of nightgown from their fangs before going in for another bite and another and another. I’m going to be sick. I can feel it rising in my stomach, a heavy fist thrusting toward my mouth.
“Go.” The old fairy pokes my cheek with his hot finger. “Leave the land of the Slake or die like the girl.”
“You’re not real!”
“We are all that is real.”
“No! Stop! I want to wake up! I’m going to wake up!” I scream, loud enough that the nightmare begins to rip at the seams.
Holes tear in the night, and Grace’s bloody body smears into a red stain. The last thing I see clearly are the old fairy’s cruel button eyes narrowing to slits and then nothing but bright, mind-numbing light. (c. Stacey Jay 2012).
And on that cheerful, not-at-all-bloody note, I bid you a good day. Be back later in the week with a story about the crazy woman I met this weekend and other assorted bits and pieces of news!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Because it's almost Valentine's Day (and the book has Valentine's Day in the title). And because I like you, and you're pretty (especially when you're reading), I'm dropping the price on the Megan Berry short story, VALENTINE'S DAY OF THE UNDEAD ebook to 99 cents for the rest of February. (It's usually 3.29.)
That's a 69.1% savings!!
(Or approximately that. I don't do that kind of math on Mondays. I've been wrangling a three year old all day long. It turns the brain to mush, I tell you.)
So go forth! To Barnes and Noble or Amazon and get your Megan Berry on for Valentine's Day.
Here's a bit about the read:
Q: What could be worse than spending Valentine's Day alone?
A: Spending it with evil zombies!!
Megan Berry is no stranger to heartbreak, but spending Valentine's Day serving other happy couples hot dogs while mourning the loss of her one true love is almost more than even a highly trained Zombie Settler can handle. So when her recently estranged boyfriend, Ethan, texts her asking her to be his Valentine, she ditches her bodyguard and rushes to his side.
But soon, Megan's dreams of chocolates, flowers, and lingering make-up kisses take a turn of the rotted-corpse-and-maggot variety, and Megan fears that her first Valentine's Day with Ethan, may be her last.
Disclaimer: If you haven't read YOU ARE SO UNDEAD TO ME or UNDEAD MUCH? you might not get some of this read. The good news, however, is that a paperback copy of YOU ARE SO UNDEAD TO ME is on sale over at Amazon for 3.60.
Random Sharing: If you want to see pictures of cute kids and creepy toys from the Fleamarket of EVIL that I visited this weekend, head over to the Tumblr.
Hoping to be back later in the week with a post about ukuleles and REFUSING TO SAY NO!, but we'll see how the words go. I must also make time to get something done to my hair. It's getting to that terrifying, two tone, electrocuted sheep stage. Going in for a cut, will come out either blonder or redder...I haven't decided yet... (Being able to color my hair is my favorite thing about not being an actor anymore. Well, that, and tattoos. I couldn't get those back in the day. I had to keep the look more neutral.)
Blah blah blah, I'm done talking now.
Have a lovely week!