Monday, December 26, 2016

2016 Wrap-up

You can read 2016's projections here 


Witch Wishes
Blog book (nonfiction)
Little White Christmas Lie (novella)
Anywhere Else (short story)
Return to Cinder (short story)

Newsletter Subscription:
400 to nearly 10,000

Speaking at Ellen's school:
Valuable because:
I got the outline for Menagerie
I realized I could do it
It was enjoyable
(Would I do it again? Definitely. In fact, I should try to line this up.)

The ANWA writers' retreat
Valuable because:
I met a lot of nice people
I wrote 15k words over a three day period
(Would I do it again? I'm not sure. It seems like I could achieve the same results, minus the people, by going and writing at the condo.)

La Cuesta Writer's Conference
Valuable because:
The classes I attended on marketing changed the way I saw things. I'm very glad I went, but I don't think I'll go again because of time and expense.

What I learned:
Christmas Lie was by far my most successful release. I contribute that to:
 My newsletter.
A clever subject line for my newsletter
A hungry market
Making a list
Asking for reviews before release

Going forward:
Ask for reviews before publishing a book
Book new release ads
Have the book in KU so I can book freebie days in conjunction with ads

Get reviews for Cowboy and Pirate so I can get prime ads (bookbub)
Have six books bookbub worthy so I can (try to) have a bookbub every month
1. Beyond
2. Hollow
3. Pale
4. Beyond Box set
5. Highwayman
6. Cowboy (needs 15)
7. Pirate (needs 18)
8. Witching Well box set
9. Menagerie (needs 9)
10. Christmas Lie (next October)
 (Currently, I have two books that have been accepted for bookbub)

Run KU promotion days based on when I get the advertising spots with:
Robin Reads

Melee, third book in Menagerie series
The Winthrop series
The Edit

Promote for one hour a day and keep detailed notes

Submit books to PNWA contest (February)

Read all of Susanna Kearsley's books and try to be like her (but wittier.)

Contact six friends about speaking at their schools.

Friday, December 23, 2016

Return to Cinder

I just published a short story. I'm pretty much in love with it. It's based on a friend's actual (creepy) experience. Although, I don't think my story is creepy, at all. I hope others find it uplifting.

This is what happened: A number of years ago, my friend's family was on a road trip and their car broke down somewhere between Reno and Vegas. If you're at all familiar with that area, you know that there isn't much there other than dust, cacti, and tumbleweeds. And Area 51.

A Mormon bishop welcomed them into his home and they stayed there for several days waiting for their car to be repaired. After the family returned home, my friend's dad wrote the bishop and several other members of the town thank you notes for their hospitality and kindness.

I won't tell you what happened next because I want you to read the story.

I thought about changing the bishop to "minister" or "pastor" to make the story more universal, but decided against it. The man claimed to be a Mormon bishop. Besides, there is a (sometimes naive and undeserved) trusting steak in the Mormon culture. As a people, we tend to assume if someone is a "worthy priesthood holder" that person is deserving of our trust. I confess, if my car broke down in the middle of nowhere, if given the choice, I would pick to stay with a Mormon bishop and his wife over any other set of strangers. I'm sure my friend's family, also devote Mormons, felt the same.

Return to Cinder should be available soon.

Monday, December 19, 2016

Introducing Lincoln Cole!

A quiet little mountain town is hiding a big problem. When the townsfolk of Raven's Peak start acting crazy, Abigail Dressler is called upon to discover the root of the evil affecting people. She uncovers a demonic threat unlike any she's ever faced and finds herself in a fight just to stay alive.
Abigail rescues Haatim Arison from a terrifying fate and discovers that he has a family legacy in the supernatural that he knows nothing about. Now she's forced to protect him, which is easy, but also to trust him if she wants to save the townsfolk of Raven's Peak. Trust, however, is something hard to have for someone who grew up living on the knife's edge of danger.
Can they discover the cause of the town's insanity and put a stop to it before it is too late?

Lincoln Cole is a Columbus-based author who enjoys traveling and has visited many different parts of the world, including Australia and Cambodia, but always returns home to his pugamonster and wife. His love for writing was kindled at an early age through the works of Isaac Asimov and Stephen King and he enjoys telling stories to anyone who will listen.

He has won more than twelve literary awards for his novels from Reader's Favorite, Literary Classics, New Apple, and many other organizations. He has also reached the top #50 rank for all books in the Kindle store on Amazon and bestseller in many different categories.

If you would like to follow and find out what is happening with Lincoln, sign up at:

...and get two free stories!

Friday, December 16, 2016

Introducing J.K. Knauss!

Spain, 974. Gonzalo, a brave but hotheaded knight, unwittingly provokes tragedy at his uncle’s wedding to beautiful young noblewoman Lambra: the adored cousin of the bride dead, his teeth scattered across the riverbank. Coveting his family’s wealth and power, Lambra sends Gonzalo’s father into enemy territory to be beheaded, unleashing a revenge that devastates Castile for a generation.
A new hero, Mudarra, rises out of the ashes of Gonzalo’s once great family. Raised as a warrior in the opulence of Muslim C√≥rdoba, Mudarra must make a grueling journey and change his religion, then chooses to take his jeweled sword to the throats of his family’s betrayers. But only when he strays from the path set for him does he find his true purpose in life.
Inspired by a lost medieval epic poem, Seven Noble Knights draws from awe-inspiring history and legend to bring a brutal yet beautiful world to life in a gripping story of family, betrayal, and love.
J. K. Knauss writes thrilling historical fiction set in the exotic world of medieval Spain. Seven Noble Knights is her first novel, and a sequel is in the works. Find out about her cantigas stories when you sign up for her newsletter and see her contemporary works under the name Jessica Knauss at her website:

Thursday, December 15, 2016

Edits, Excerpt, and an Idea

 I had told myself that I wouldn't work on my books between Thanksgiving and New Years, but I got the edits back for Melange and I couldn't help myself. The fun thing about this book is it really didn't get to where I thought it was going. About midway through, it took a surprising turn. And although this is what I love about it, I'm wondering if others will feel the same.

My novella The Little White Christmas Lie has been doing really well. It's been in the top 100 of its genre pretty much since its release. I guess people just love Christmas stories. This morning, I got an this email.  Your book has all ready kept me up way past bedtime!You are a terrific writer!Thanks for sharing your world with your readers. Which is really sweet, but also has me scratching my head. Really? You couldn't see where this is story was going? It's a romance...all romances have to have a happy ending. It's in the rules. If it doesn't have a happy ending, it's not a romance. Period.

So, what is Melange--other than the sequel to Menagerie (which, by the way, is FREE through the weekend.) It's definitely a love story. But the ending is not the ending. Eventually, the series will have a happily ever after, but I'm no longer sure how many books it will take me to get there.

Because I really loved writing The Little White Christmas Lie, I'm going to begin a series of contemporary romances, but not until after the New Year. And maybe not even then. I'm debating on whether or not to finish the Menagerie series before starting something new. OR, should I just let the Menagerie series be several books long...and write other books when I want to...I have a few weeks to decide on what I want to start on next.

But in the mean time, here's an excerpt from Melange. It's currently up for pre-order with a tentative release date at the end of February. I think I'll release it in January since I'll be sending it out to beta readers in a few days. (Which means it's pretty much done.)

Melange, Chapter 4

She had to do something. Lying in bed was no longer an option. Somehow, someway, she had to prevent Declan and his mom from ever getting on that boat. The floor beneath her feet felt like ice, but she didn’t care. She pulled a pair of overalls and a flannel shirt from her dresser, shoved her feet into a pair of boots, and tugged a black hoodie over her head.
“Where are you going?” Tennyson peeked one sleepy eye open.
“To the docks.”
“What are you going to do?” Tennyson now had both eyes open.
“I’m not sure.” But maybe a salmon would help.
While the moon hung as high as it could go, Lizbet led Trotter out of the barn. She adjusted his saddle and stuffed the frozen salmon into the saddlebag. Of course, it didn’t fit all the way so its head poked up, its mouth gaped open, and its beady black eye glared at her as if it knew her plans.
“You stink,” the horse said.
“Here.” Lizbet drew an apple out of her hoodie’s pocket. “I have something for you.”
Somewhat appeased and not quite as cranky about being woken for a midnight ride, Trotter munched on the apple while Lizbet put one foot in the stirrup and threw the other over Trotter’s back. According to the GPS, they would be able to take trails most of the way to Eleanor Bay. They could bypass most city streets, but a few times they’d have to cross bridges and navigate neighborhoods. Hopefully, they’d do it all in the dark.
They hadn’t gone far before Trotter lifted his muzzle. His nostrils flared and his trot slowed. Lizbet urged him forward, but he balked.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure.” Trotter sidestepped.
Lizbet patted his neck reassuringly. “Come on, the sooner we deliver the salmon, the sooner we can get home.”
Trotter blew out a noisy breath, bucked up his courage, and pressed forward into the dark night.
Lizbet tried not to worry about wolves, but dark shadows flitting through the trees kept her tingly awake despite the hour.
The moon cast long beams of light across Back Bay. Boats of all shapes and sizes were moored along the docks. Most would be empty, but she couldn’t count on all of them being unoccupied. She led Trotter to a lamppost and tied his reins around it.
“This shouldn’t take long,” she told the horse as she patted his neck. “We’ll be safe in the barn soon.”
The horse looked skeptical, but he didn’t say anything.
Lizbet drew the salmon from the saddlebag. It had thawed slightly on the long trip and now felt slimy and cold. She held it in front of her like a platter. Other than her footsteps echoing on the boardwalk and water slapping the pilings, everything was quiet and still.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Where were the sea lions?
The chain-link fence surrounding the marina was seven feet high. Lizbet tossed the fish over to the other side before scaling the fence. She landed beside the fish, scooped it up, and went in search of the Gloria Hallelujah.
Like all the other boats in the marina, it was covered by an enormous nylon netting. Leaving the fish on the boardwalk, she got to work.
“Whatcha doing?” A seal popped his black head out of the water.
Lizbet smiled as her apprehension slowly drained away. “Unwrapping this boat.”
“What for?” the seal barked.
“Well, I thought maybe you and your friends would like someplace comfortable to hang.” Lizbet untied the ropes securing the net before rolling it up.
“Maybe I don’t want to share.”
Lizbet finished pulling back the net and rolling it into ball. She straightened, and met the seal's stare. "You don't have to share, but that is a really big fish for you to eat all by yourself.” She picked up the salmon and waved it in the air. As she had expected, several seals and sea lions poked their heads out of the dark water. Lizbet grinned and tossed the fish onto the deck of the Gloria Hallelujah.
The animals, of course, would trash the boat, but she needed to not think of it like that. If the birds were right, she was actually saving the boat. The animals would be much kinder than a bomb. Maybe.
The seals and sea lions grunted, slapped their fins, and squealed as they attacked the salmon.
" you think you guys could hang out here?"
No one looked at her.
"I can bring more fish... All I ask is that you stay on this boat. Deal?”
It wasn't a long-term solution, or even a reliable one. After all, Lizbet knew seals and sea lions were notoriously slippery. But she also knew that the animals would hang around at least until tomorrow. But just to be sure, she stripped down to her bra and panties and slipped into the water. The cold enveloped her. She rose sputtering. Then she grabbed the tow rope and started the long swim out of the marina.
Pulling a boat laden with sea animals was not easy. Not that she had thought it would be. "Don't let me drown, okay?"
One seal rose and clapped his fins, applauding her. That was all the encouragement she needed. The bay rippled as she moved through it. She didn't meet resistance until they left the cove. There, the tide roiled and the boat bucked against the waves. Lizbet tugged at the rope and fought the waves for as long as she could.
She heaved onto the deck. The cold air raised goose pimples on her skin. Her arms and legs felt like wet noodles. She scooched the animals with her foot so she could reach the captain's chair. She plopped behind the wheel and pointed it at the rocks jutting out of the water. Inhaling several long breaths, she tried to regain her strength. She would need it for what was coming next. Leaning back, she studied the star-studded sky. Then, when she thought she could, she ran and jumped off the stern of the boat. Mustering her depleted strength, she gave the boat a push. As she’d hoped, the Gloria Hallelujah hit the rocks with a sickening splintering of wood.

Exhausted, Lizbet headed for shore. She slept on Trotter's back all the way home.

Friday, December 9, 2016

Introducing M.N. Arzu!

Underneath - A Merfolk Tale (The Under Series Book 1) by [Arzu, M.N.]

"A hidden gem. Truly exceptional!"
- Lincoln Cole, author of the bestselling novel Raven's Peak
"I've never read anything like it!"
- Sean Seebach, author of Autumn Da

An injured merman is found washed up on a beach in Maine. After being brought to a special facility, doctors are at a loss for how to help him. Worse, how are they to keep him away from the eager hands of the military?
One reporter is hot on the trail of what she believes is an elaborate hoax—or the story of a lifetime. A story that has her tracking elusive clues into an ever-growing house of secrets surrounding one of the richest families in New York City.
For merfolk have been hiding in plain sight for centuries, and are now torn between sacrificing one of their own—or telling humanity the truth.

M.N. Arzu (1982) was born in Guatemala City, Guatemala, and fell in love with books at age 9, when her oldest sister translated The Chronicles of Narnia for her. Those books would set her on a journey of literature and other languages that continues till this day.

She graduated as a Graphic Designer, and she now feeds her creative world with equal measures of fantasy and science fiction, always seeking adventures in other realms.

Monday, December 5, 2016

Introducing Heather Moore!

Heather B. Moore is a USA Today bestselling author of more than a dozen historical novels and thrillers, written under pen name H.B. Moore. She writes women's fiction, romance and inspirational non-fiction under Heather B. Moore. This can all be confusing, so her kids just call her Mom. Heather attended Cairo American College in Egypt, the Anglican School of Jerusalem in Israel, and earned a Bachelor of Science degree from Brigham Young University in Utah.

Special Agent Omar Zagouri’s latest case is his most dangerous—and his most personal yet. The discovery of secret sixteenth-century letters unveils a plot between the sultan Suleyman and his chief wife, Roxelane, to change the course of the Ottoman Empire. A descendent of Roxelane, Zagouri learns he has an enemy whose revenge has been centuries in the making.
Targeted by an antiquities collector who’s also descended from a chief rival for the ancient throne, Zagouri soon uncovers a modern-day conspiracy that threatens the lives of his family and the security of a nation.
To expose the plot, Zagouri must team up with Naim, the son of his nemesis, who heads an international black-market operation that may have ties to the killings. From ancient Constantinople to the present-day Middle East, Zagouri is on a collision course with history. Time is running out to solve a royal mystery and stop a ruthless killer—one who has Zagouri’s name on his hit list.

Tweet this: Secret sixteenth-century letters unveil a plot that can change the course of the Ottoman Empire #amreading

Friday, December 2, 2016

Christmas Sale

My book Witch Wishes is in this anthology. For only .99 cents, it's a sweet deal. GET YOURS HERE

It’s the beginning of the holiday break, but Evie Marston isn’t feeling the Christmas spirit. And Birdie, Evie's grandmother and self-proclaimed witch, thinks she knows why. After Evie confronted the Creature of the Chasm something happened to magic and without it Christmas just isn't the same. Decorations have been replaced by store advertisements, and everyone has started referring to Christmas as Shopping Day.
Evie doesn’t know why or how that happened, but she does know that somehow, someway she must summon and restore the magic the earth and all her people have lost.

Rainbows, silent stars and musical winds
Let peace settle your soul for the magic begins.

I sat on the split rail fence that separated the Henderson’s property from Uncle Mitch’s, Josh stood directly in front of me, his torso inches from my knees. Despite the snow covered field, the icicles dripping from the trees and eaves, and the sharp wind cutting through my fur-lined cape, I was warm and flushed by Josh’s nearness.
His excitement made him look young, and just for a brief second, I saw him as a kid, about the age he’d been when I’d moved to Uncle Mitch’s house after my parents’ divorce. He’d been older than me, of course, his three years my senior launching him into a stratosphere where my Barbies and I could never venture, not even in my imagination. And so now, after 8 years, it seemed impossible he could stand in front of me, his eyes gleaming with an emotion I didn’t know how to interpret, and say, “I bought you something.”
“For Christmas?” I asked.
“What?” Confusion clouded his expression.
And just like that, the happiness I’d felt, the excitement of our first kiss faded. I touched his hand, and he intertwined his fingers with mine. He felt warm and solid, and his touch sent tingles up my arm, even though a dozen alarm bells jangled in my head. A skin-pricking sensation told me we weren’t alone.
I glanced around at the deserted fields stretching in all directions. The dark woods loomed in the distance. A pair of goldfinches flitted through the gray sky, their brightly colored feathers a sharp contrasting with the snowy landscape. Still, despite the quiet surrounding us, I couldn’t shake the being-watched-feeling.
“Christmas,” I repeated. “It’s a major holiday.”
Stepping closer, he drew my hand to his mouth and ran his lips over my knuckles. The prickles spread like fire, warming me from the top of my head, and down. He acted as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Do you want to see what I got you?” he asked, flipping his dark hair off his forehead.
I nodded, because when he looked at me with his big blue eyes, the only answer I could ever offer would be yes.
Cupping my cheek in his hand, he leaned forward and kissed me. With his lips warm against mine, I found it hard to think of anything, or anyone but him and the tingles running up, down, and over my skin.
“Is that it?” I asked. “Because that’s what I got you, too.”
“Good gift,” he said, placing his forehead against mine so our eyes were just inches apart. “But no, I got you something else.”
“They’re not mutually exclusive, right? If I accept your gift, can I still kiss you?”
“Anytime,” he said.
“Mmm, but probably not in front of your family.”
He pulled away and lifted his eyebrows. “Yeah, that’s going to be awkward.”
“I have to tell Bree.”
“I’m sure she already knows,” he said.
“What about your mom?”
“She probably knows, too. She has serious mom-dar.”
I nodded, agreeing. Mrs. Henderson really did seem to have a heaping helping of intuition when it came to her kids. She could spot lie-loaded conversations before a word was ever uttered, and she probably knew about a crush long before her child even attempted to flirt. This surely came in handy for her, but it caused a lot of havoc and frustration for her kids…and girls-next-door who happened to have a thing for her son. If Mrs. Henderson could read her children, she could also sniff out a girl crushing on Josh.
“Let’s not worry about anyone else right now.” Josh planted a quick kiss on my lips, leaving me hungry for more. “I want to show you your present.” Taking my hand, he pulled me off the fence. “You okay? Are you going to be warm enough?”
I nodded. My head still felt a smidge fuzzy, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of my recent accident and head injury, or because kissing Josh made me dizzy.
Something in my expression must have concerned him, because he stopped, stepped in front of me and turned his back. “Get on,” he said.
And in a flash, I was little again, climbing on for a piggy-back ride, something I must have done a hundred times in the years before there ever was an Evie-and-Josh, back when I was just his little sister’s best friend. I wanted to ask him when he started thinking of me differently, as someone other than the sidekick of one of his life’s biggest annoyances, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to answer, just like I knew I couldn’t say when I’d first decided I’d rather kiss Josh than breathe. Wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, I decided the exact beginning of the relationship didn’t matter. It wasn’t a race with a starting line. What mattered was if we ever got close to the finishing line, we’d find a way to stay on the course.
Josh tromped across the field, holding me as easily as if I was Gabby, his baby sister. I guessed we were headed for the barn, but I also noticed we stayed close to the woods, on the distant side of the shed, far away from the windows, and the spying eyes of his siblings inside his house. As the trees stretched their branches toward us and the goldfinches swooped in the air, the skin-crawling feeling of being watched returned. I tightened my hold on Josh.
Inside the dimly lit barn, Josh loosened his grip, and I slid off. A fiberglass boat stood on its stern, propped up against the wall beside a collection of fishing poles, nets, and waders. Mr. Henderson used the opposite side of the barn as a wood shop. Countless tools lined his workbench, and a large fluorescent lamp hung from the ceiling.
Josh went to the boat, reached behind it, and pulled out a package about the size of a bread box. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, flushing. It was wrapped in brightly colored paper covered with pictures of balloons, which seemed wrong, but glancing at his happy, hopeful expression, also right.
“I’ll love it whatever it is,” I told him.
“Open it,” he urged.
“You don’t want me to wait for Christmas?”
“Why do you keep mentioning that word?” Annoyance flashed across his face. “I want you to open it now.”
Smiling, I tore it open. Ice skates, black with red racing stripes, built for speed.
“I bought them at a used sporting goods store.”
“They’re perfect,” I said, hoping I wasn’t lying. I’d never tried ice-skating before, at least, not on real skates. I’d slipped my way across frozen Peter’s Pond hundreds of times, but not with anything sharp or pointy attached to my feet. I ran my finger across the blade.
“They should fit,” Josh continued. “You let Bree borrow your shoes and I took one with me to the shop. Not that it matters. Clayton Carlson works there, and he told me I could return them if they don’t work out.”
I imagined inching around the perimeter of the lake, clasping onto Josh with a death grip. I slid him a glance, wondering if he’d foreseen that, too. “Want to try them out?” I asked.
His face brightened and the apprehension in his eyes disappeared. “Yeah!” He leaned behind the boat and pulled out his own, well-worn skates. “I thought you might say that. But…are you sure you’re up to it?”
“I feel fine, and I’m tired of being babied.”
My dad, stepmother, uncle, and even normally cranky Mrs. Mateo, our housekeeper, had been fussing over me ever since my accident a week ago. Sick of being treated like a princess on a pillow, I’d escaped with Josh. Occasionally, my ribs would twinge with a complaint, and my head would throb, I got tired easily, and I’d been really bored, which meant I slept a lot, which made my head fuzzy…it all seemed like a vicious circle, and besides all the physical trauma, there were also all the unanswered questions. My memories didn’t line up with what anyone else could tell me about the night I fell at The Creature of the Chasm State Park.
Except for Birdie.
Josh startled me out of my thoughts. I smiled up at him and took his hand. “Do you want to walk?”
“Let’s take the bike,” he said. “As long as you think you’ll be warm enough.”
I shot a glance at Josh’s dirt bike propped between the boat and a stack of boxes. “I’m good,” I said, tying the laces of the skates together and looping them around my neck.
“Yeah, you are,” Josh said, leaning in to kiss me again and plop a helmet on my head.
I settled on the back of the bike behind Josh while he gunned the engine. The bike sputtered a few times before it roared to life. Moments later, we were cruising down the road, bypassing downtown and avoiding the busier streets. I caught a glimpse of the town green.
It looked different somehow, bleaker, although I couldn’t say why. In the distance, a gazebo stood on a small hill beside St. Mark’s stone chapel, the oldest building in Woodinville. Something nagged in the back of my mind, like a song wanting to be repeated, but the only lyrics I could recall were la, la, la. I tightened my grip on Josh and leaned against him. The skates pinched me, and I had to ease away.
Black and barren trees stood like sentinels along The King’s Highway. Silver ice clung to the bushes edging the road. I had forgotten we’d have to pass Birdie’s house to get to Peter’s Pond.
I bit my lip as we roared past her driveway. Birdie’s house was as lean and bare as the meat on her bones—long stretches of hardwood floors, soaring windows, and a circular staircase that twirled toward heaven. I guessed the house was old, given the stately mansions in the neighborhood, but I couldn’t have pinpointed an era by the exterior architecture. I loved it, and I loved the fact that one day it would be mine. My feelings for Birdie were a lot more difficult to define. I loved her honesty, her ability to speak her mind without worrying what anyone else would think of her. Her tiny body radiated energy. She seemed much more alive than anyone else I knew. And yet, despite her frankness, I didn’t completely trust her.
A small wooden sign marked the entrance to Peter’s Pond Park. If not for a wide swatch of dirt cutting through the forest, it would be easily missed. The park contained two picnic tables, a trash can, and a few fallen trees strategically placed to serve as benches in a small clearing.
Josh cut the engine, rolled the bike to a nearby tree, and climbed off. I followed him to a picnic table and sat down. My gaze wandered back to Birdie’s house, barely visible through the thick woods.
Go and talk to her, a voice inside me urged.
I told the voice to shut up. Besides, everything I needed to say couldn’t be said in front of Josh. If I started talking about The Creature of the Chasm and disappearing magic he’d think I’d hit my head too hard. He’d probably tell my Uncle Mitch, who would tell my dad, who would make me go to a doctor at the least, and a therapist at the worst. And my dad would tell uber-religious Maria, my stepmother, and she’d make me talk to her priest…maybe even an exorcist…
I looked up, surprised to see Josh had already put on his skates while mine still sat on my lap.
“Do you need help?” Josh asked, dropping to his knees beside me, acting like a shoes salesman.
“No, don’t be silly.” I bent over to pull off my boots.
Josh loosened the laces on one skate and then the other. He handed them to me one at a time, squatting beside me as if ready to jump in and help if I couldn’t do it on my own. I tightened the laces, placed my boots on the table next to Josh’s shoes, and took his hand. Together, we hobbled to the pond’s edge.
The ice looked black, thick and streaked with countless cuts from previous skaters. The woods ringing the pond provided a screen from the road. Here Josh could kiss me for hours and no one would know. But…even though we had the pond to ourselves, I couldn’t shake the eyes-on-my-back feeling. Hearing a rustling in the trees, I turned and caught sight of a deer. He stared at me with large black eyes.
Holding onto Josh’s arm, I placed one skate on the ice and then the other. My ankles wobbled, my feet went in different directions, and I tightened my hold on Josh.
He pulled away from me, left me standing on my own, despite my complaints, and came up behind me, placing his hands on my waist. “Just let me push you,” he said. “Don’t try and move your feet, yet. I’ll go slow.”
With Josh behind me holding me upright, we skirted the edge of the pond at a snail’s pace. At first, I held my breath and concentrated on keeping my legs ramrod straight. After our second loop around, Josh pushed me away from him.
“Hey!” I twirled my arms and fought to retain my balance.
Behind me, Josh laughed. He skated up beside me, spun around me, and stopped with a scrape of his skates at my side. “You’re doing great,” he said, taking both my hands. “Ready to move your feet?” Skating backward, he towed me toward the center of the pond. “Relax,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”
Ignoring the deer in the woods, and anyone else who may have been watching, I kept my eyes locked on his. In my mind he was ten years old again, and I was seven.
He spun me, before catching me in his arms. Breathless, he gazed down at me and I knew—hoped—he was going to kiss me again.
“Yeah! Josh! Evie!” a voice called to us.
Annoyance flashed across Josh’s face and he dropped my hands. “What are they doing here?” he asked through tight lips.
I peeked over his shoulder at the small congregation gathering at the pond’s edge. “Skating. Although, I have to warn you, it looks like Lincoln is making snowballs.”
Josh muttered something beneath his breath. “How many of them are there?”
I quickly counted. “Nine. Ten if you count the dog.”
“Nine? There’s only seven of us. And we have three dogs, not one.”
“It looks like Bree brought Marcus and the twins brought friends.”
“Marcus? Your stepbrother?”
I nodded.
Josh spun around to watch his six siblings, one of mine, and Leopold, a giant Great Dane skittering our way. “Any chance they’ll break the ice?” he asked in a half-joking half-frustrated tone.
“You don’t really want that.”
“I guess you’re right,” he said.
“Why didn’t you bring us with you?” Lincoln demanded, sliding our way in his red Converse sneakers. He was only seven, but he looked a lot younger in his hand-me down jacket. He did a great impression of Barbara Walters or Harvey Levin, asking all the questions no one wants to answer.
Josh put his arms around me, shielding me from the oncoming Lincoln. “Maybe we wanted to be alone.”
“Why?” He batted his white blond eyelashes at us.
“Hey!” Bree called. She waved with the hand that wasn’t holding onto Marcus, my gorgeous, Argentine step-brother. She wore a parka almost as bright as her red curly hair. “Your dad sent me to look for you. Maria was cursing you in Spanish.”
Marcus sent Bree a reproachful look, but he didn’t drop her hand. “They are just worried,” he said. “Your accident really shook them up.”
“I’m fine.”
Marcus slid closer, pulling Bree with him. “They’re not so sure. I think they feel guilty you are living with your Uncle Mitch and not with us.”
I started to roll my eyes but caught sight of Leopold plowing through the woods and taking Gabby with him.
“Help!” Gabby shrieked, clutching the leash and trying to keep up with the dog. “Leopold! Stop!”
“Drop the leash, Gabs!” Bree called.
Josh gave Bree a nasty look, before skating after his baby sister.
“So, what should I tell your dad?” Bree asked me, grinning. When I didn’t answer, she continued, “Were you seriously kissing my brother?”
I flashed a look at her hand clasped in Marcus’s. “You’re holding hands with mine.”
“This is just for stability,” Bree said. “He’d totally fall if not for me.”
Marcus turned a handsome red and looked away.
“Why is Leopold here?” I asked.
“Mrs. Cleary is paying the twins to walk him,” Bree said.
“But the twins aren’t walking him.” I glanced over at the twelve-year-old boys trying to knock each other off their feet. “They’re going to break something.”
“Won’t be the first time,” Bree said.
“As long as it’s not the ice, it’s okay with me,” Marcus said.
I watched Josh confront Gabby, take possession of the leash, and rein in Leopold.
“I’m going to see if Josh needs help,” I told Bree and Marcus, without thinking about my skates. Seconds later, I was on my back, looking up at the gray sky.
Bree, Marcus, Lincoln, the twins, and two kids I didn’t know came to stare at me.
“You okay?” Bree asked.
“You belong in Washington,” Marcus said.
Bree slugged his arm. “She totally could have fallen just as easily in Washington as here!”
“Are you moving to Washington, Evie?” Lincoln asked. “Like with the president?”
Josh pushed his way through. “Back off,” he growled. Reaching down, he pulled me up and steadied me on my feet. “You all right?”
I nodded and touched my forehead.
Josh steered me to the pond’s bank, helped me up onto the solid, non-slippery ground, and held my hand as we wobbled to the picnic bench where we’d left our shoes.
Leopold, tied to a tree, watched us, his big brown eyes pleading for freedom.
“You sure you’re okay?” Josh asked.
I nodded, lying, but not wanting to worry him.
“Want to return Leopold to Mrs. Cleary?” Josh asked. “We’ll have to walk.”
“Did they really drive here with nine people and that huge dog in the van?” I stifled a giggle as I pulled off my skates and slipped on my boots.
Josh rolled his eyes. “My mom must have left Bree in charge.”
“I know why Bree came,” I said. “She probably thought it would be more fun to pile everyone into the van than to stay at home and play referee, but how did she get Marcus to come?” I tied the skates together and strung them around my neck.
“I bet he went over to our house looking for you.” Josh finished tying his shoes, stood, and went to get Leopold.
I fondled the dog’s ears, and he looked up at me with a loving gaze as if he knew and understood I had recently saved his life. I closed my eyes against the rush of memories. The Creature of the Chasm, the lies, the monster crashing the Winter Formal dance…
“Evie? You ready?” Josh asked.
I shook my head as if I could clear it of the unhappy memories…but were they memories? Delusions? A dream? A psychotic break?
“It’s kind of far, isn’t it?” I asked, taking Josh’s hand.
“I know a short-cut.” His steps slowed. “Unless…”
“Well, maybe you don’t want to go that way.”
“Why not?”
“We have to go through the Chasm State Park.”
“Oh.” A tremor shook through me. “That’s okay.” It was, right? I should be able to walk through The Creature of the Chasm State the daylight…with Josh, not to mention Leopold. Nothing, no one, could hurt me…again. I held Josh’s hand a smidge tighter.
Under the canopy of trees, a light dusting of snow lay on the ground. As we moved deeper into the woods, the sound of the cars on the highway, or the buzz of civilization, faded into stillness, amplifying the crunch of our shoes on fallen leaves and twigs. The last time I’d been here it’d been close to midnight. I remembered the dark night, the stillness, but little else.
As we walked, Josh talked about his hopes for a scholarship and the colleges he wanted to attend. I listened with a sick heart, knowing I should be excited for him, but the thought of being left behind, again, hurt.
“I’d love to go to California,” he said.
“Mmm,” I replied.
“I mean, I haven’t ever been further west than Chicago. You’ve been to India!”
“I’m not sure if they have football in India. I don’t think there’s room.”
He grinned and elbowed me.
I tried to smile. “I’m serious. How many players are allowed on a football field at a time?”
“Eleven for each team, or twenty-two.”
“And how big is a football field?”
“A hundred and ten yards.”
“And there’s about a zillion people in India. You do the math.”
Josh laughed.
“I’m serious. You do not want to go to India.”
He cut me a sideways glance. “Do you want to go to Washington with your dad?” he asked.
“That’s not going to happen.”
Josh dropped my hand and draped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. I inhaled his warm scent. Then I froze.
“What’s the matter?” Josh asked.
We’d come to the main entrance of the park. A large wooden sign stood by the guard gate, reading, Welcome to the Chasm State Park.
 “It’s The Creature of the Chasm State Park,” I whispered.
“What?” Josh asked. He tried to nudge me forward, but my feet stayed planted as if I’d taken root.
“It’s The Creature of the Chasm State Park,” I repeated, my voice more resolute. “Or at least, it used to be.”
Josh shook his head. “No, Evie. Technically, I’ve lived here longer than you and it’s always been just the Chasm State Park.”
“No, Josh!” Panic tinged my voice. “It was The Creature of the Chasm State Park! When I came here last week, it was definitely The Creature of the Chasm State Park!”
Josh looked as if he didn’t know what to do with me. Even Leopold sat back on his haunches and cocked his head as if he was trying to read me, but couldn’t.
I spotted Mrs. Cleary’s cottage and hurried toward it. My steps faltered as I drew near. Where were the Christmas lights Josh had hung just last week? Where was the wreath on the door? Where was the Christmas tree?
I ran, conscious of Josh and Leopold tagging after me. Bolting up the steps, I pounded on Mrs. Cleary’s door. Maybe she could answer some questions. After all, she was the one who had first told me the story of The Creature of the Chasm.
Relief zipped through me when old Mrs. Cleary opened the door. She was tiny, frail, with skin nearly as gray as her hair. I sagged into her arms.
“Goodness, child.” Mrs. Cleary patted my back. “What’s the matter?”
I took a step away, but Mrs. Cleary waved us inside. With the curtains drawn and the fireplace roaring, her living room with its 1970s furniture felt like a furnace.
Josh fumbled with Leopold’s leash while questions poured from me.
“Where’s your Christmas tree?” I demanded. “And the lights? When did they change the name of the state park?”
Mrs. Cleary laughed and held up her hands like she was a lion tamer and I was a wild animal at a circus. “Now, sweetie, hold on…one thing at a time.” Taking my arm, she steered me to her sofa. I sank on to it. My breath came out in ragged huffs, making my ribs hurt.
“The last time I was here, you told me a story about The Creature of the Chasm,” I said.
Mrs. Cleary studied me through her thick glasses. “Well, now…I don’t rightly remember that.” She gave Josh a quick look.
“You did!” I launched into the story, hoping to jog her memory. “There were Haddish and Amelia, and Haddish loved Amelia so much he carried her down into the chasm. But Agatha, Amelia’s mom, was a really powerful witch…”
“Evie,” Josh sat down beside me, “we should go.”
“No, Josh! You don’t get it.”
He cast a worried glance at Mrs. Cleary. She looked upset and confused.
“Maybe she’d like some cookies and some warm milk,” Mrs. Cleary said, as if I wasn’t sitting right in front of her.
“I don’t think that will help,” Josh said, probably remembering her rock hard cookies as well as I did.
I twisted so I faced Josh and laced my voice with determination. “The last time I was here she told me—”
“I’m s-s-o ss-sorry,” Mrs. Cleary stuttered over her words. “I’ve gotten so forgetful.” She laughed, but it sounded more brittle than happy. “I wouldn’t be able to find my dog if he wasn’t so huge.”
“Let’s go, Evie,” Josh said, standing, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet.
“But Josh!”
Josh shook his head and propelled me out the door. “Happy Shopping Day,” he said to Mrs. Cleary over his shoulder.
“Thank you for walking Leopold,” Mrs. Cleary called after us. “Come back again. I still have those cookies!”
I refused to be budged off the porch. “What is Shopping Day?”
“What is your problem?” Josh asked. “You were upsetting Mrs. Cleary.” He glanced in her window, took my arm and practically carried me off the porch. “She’s a little old lady, recently widowed. Geez, Evie.”
I stumbled after him, remorseful about upsetting Mrs. Cleary, but also feeling my own upsetting ramping up and up. “What’s Shopping Day?”
“What’s Shopping Day? Are you serious?”
I swallowed. “What’s today?”
“It’s December 23rd.”
“December 23rd,” I repeated. “Two days until Christmas. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”
Josh didn’t say anything but continued gripping my arm and marching me down the street. We turned into the state park.
“Tomorrow night, will you go with me to St. Mark’s?” I asked.
“St. who?”
“St. Mark’s, you know, it’s the oldest building in town.”
He still looked blank.
“It’s the chapel next to the town green.”
Relief showed on his face. “Why do you want to go there?”
“For Midnight Mass.” I blinked back tears, but managed to hold my voice steady. “Your family goes there every year.”
“Midnight Mass?”
“Yes, there’s candles, and a choir, and…” I broke down in tears.
“Evie, don’t,” Josh said, turning and taking me in his arms. “Please don’t cry.”
“Josh, what’s going on?” I mumbled into his shirt.
“I don’t know.” He held me, letting me cry. “I should take you home.” He pulled away and wiped my tears with his thumb. “Listen, you have to pull it together. If your dad sees you like this…”
I nodded, following his train of thought. “He’ll make me live with him and Maria.” I swallowed audibly. “Uncle Mitch is my legal guardian.”
“Yeah, but we both know that only happened so he could sign school release forms. If your dad thought you needed to come and live with him, Mitch would be sad, but he wouldn’t fight it. Not if he thought it was best for you.”
I nodded and blinked through my tears at Josh.
He cradled my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. “You gonna be okay?”