Down, but never out

Someone recently asked me how long it takes me to write a book. My daughters, who were sitting with us at that moment, laughed. :\

Yes, that reveals a lot about my particular writing method -- I'm as slow as molasses in winter. Life interferes; disappointment throws up a writer's block; health problems last year put my muse in a coma; and I tend to get distracted by other things easily.

Actually, I've had a particular story 'done' for quite a while. But it was rejected -- hence one writer's I-really-must-suck-after-all block. The editor seemed to think my readers wouldn't like it because it's a prequel. This story is part of my Sentinels world, but chronologically it takes place before the first book. Yes, I did it that way on purpose -- there's method to my madness. But the editor didn't agree, and that's fine. That's the way of the business, after all.

So, along comes the Indie-pubbing revolution. Hmmmm, I have this finished book with nowhere to go -- no one wants to publish just one book of a series. I wonder...

This weekend, I'm taking my career in hand as I make another part of my dream come true. I'm releasing the novel myself, complete with a hot cover model. ;)  It's a paranormal romantic suspense and gives readers a better insight into my Sentinels world.

As soon as it's live, I'll post the links. Until then, enjoy a short excerpt:

Broken
(a Sentinel's novel)

(c)2012 Meg Allison

“I’m tired,” she murmured and turned her face into his chest. “I want to sleep now.”

Her head fell forward and her breath became much too shallow. Something was wrong. She was slipping away from him, fading like a wisp of smoke. At first glance, her injuries were minor. She shouldn’t be dying, yet she was doing just that.

He cursed as he hadn’t cursed in many years. Then he reached deep inside and found the last thread of his strength. He lifted the energy, focusing it with a thought, and directed it through his body to his hands. One arm supported her as he passed the other over her head.

There, a small lesion in her temporal lobe was letting blood seep into her skull. He concentrated his power there as he imagined the jagged edges of the flesh knitting back together. He continued to focus his power onward through her neck, shoulders, and torso. Near her lungs he found a small rupture that had also begun to bleed internally. In his minds’ eye he could see it close and heal as if it had never been. He directed his power onward once again.

Heat and power poured from his fingertips, lighting the night with a soft white light as it penetrated her battered body. It may have taken five minutes or five hours, he couldn’t be sure as he slowly worked down her frame, inch by inch, until he was sure she was no long in danger.

He relaxed a bit, once again aware of the cold ground beneath him. Weakness permeated every cell, yet he knew he had to get her indoors. She might be safe from the internal bleeding, but the cold could still kill her. She stirred slightly in his arms and opened her eyes. A cold rush of mountain air caught in his throat and burned his windpipe as he stared into her dark eyes. A reflection of his own fears stared back at him. But something else lingered in those eyes—something familiar. Gabriel had no idea what he glimpsed. In that moment he knew he couldn’t rest until he found out.

* * * *


~~Meg

Indulge your senses...
http://www.megallisonauthor.com