Need a good editor?

Wow. It’s been two months since I’ve posted. It’s not that I’m getting lazy about it, I promise. I’ve found lately that I’ve just been stretching myself too thin. Besides working on my current novel, I’ve been hard at work illustrating a children’s book, dealing with family issues, taking a family vacation, getting ready for a cross-country move, and working on some edits for Fall of Venus. That’s right. You heard me (er…read me anyway). Yes, I’m reworking Fall of Venus, which was published almost two years ago.

Which is why I come to you today to recommend an editor. Eve Arroyo has done a fantastic job editing Fall of Venus, which was never professionally edited to begin with due to lack of funds. As helpful as my beta readers were, they didn’t seem to have an eye for detail that Eve has. She not only proofreads, but also reads between the lines, giving feedback on story flow, plot, characterization, and more. If you need an editor I highly recommend her. Her website is:

Fall of Venus has not undergone significant changes, but has been improved. I hope to get the new edition uploaded to Kindle soon.

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Book Update: Lacking Motivation

It’s been a rough past few weeks for me. I wish I could have a more positive update for you, but that’s how life goes. It’s just a series of peaks and valleys and I’ve been stuck in a rift at the nadir of a valley recently. Don’t fret – I haven’t given up on my book, just set it aside for some time.

I don’t know if any of you deal with this, but I’ve always had a problem with depression. It’s not as serious as it is for some folks; suicide or any self-injurious behaviors certainly aren’t on my radar. I just find that when I fall into this vortex I lose all motivation for doing the things I love, whether it be writing, reading, painting, or gardening. I just want to lay in bed all day and do nothing. When I do find that odd moment of inspiration, there’s always something else that needs to be done first, and by the time I’ve finished that task the inspiration as evaporated in a cloud of dust. Poof. Damn priorities. Stress doesn’t help either, and I’ve been dealing with a lot of family-related stress lately.

Part of the problem is that my story has grown boring. I’m at 50k words, about halfway through the novel, and it’s turning out to be much longer than I anticipated. About 20k words ago, my protagonist found herself in a new environment where I had to introduce about nine new characters in addition to having her adjust to the abrupt change. Because of this, the action has waned. After a few weeks of mulling it over, I’ve decided to part slightly with my original outline and throw some danger into the mix to speed things up. This means sacrificing a few intended subplots involving supporting characters. But since I intend to write this as a five to six book series, I’m sure I’ll find time to return to those subplots in the future. In the meantime, I will push forward with these changes and hope to have a more positive update soon!

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Featured Author: Lynn Thompson

This week’s featured author is Lynn Thompson.

Dark Fates

Just in time for nightfall, fun, but still on the dark side.
Dark Fates short stories:

Wrong Number
Valerie’s insomnia is getting worse. Every time she closes her eyes darkness surrounds her and something scary lurks in its wake. If she doesn’t get sleep soon she’ll go crazy, but can she face her dream filled fears?

Dwarfs Eve
Amber, Derrick, Lydia and Josh visit the cemetery on Halloween night under the full moon. Ambers gut instinct tells her not to go, but she never could say no to Derrick…

Tavern Cat
The local tavern was Ranald’s second home, until one night he didn’t show. The bartender gets worried about him. After visiting the sick old man at his home the bartended is convinced that once the Scot is better he will be back to warm his favorite barstool…

Ghostly Wanderings
Bar fights, ghosts, and Summer… Harry doesn’t realize this will be his last night alive. If he’d only changed his ways before the beginning of the evening things might have been different, but Harry was out to have some fun…

The Devil in Disguise
Pete puffed out his chest to try and show some enthusiasm. The last time and only time he fought he almost killed the guy because of his size. But this man was entrancing his woman, along with all of the others and the women either didn’t seem to notice or didn’t care…

Te Amo
Victoria’s restaurant is booming and all it took was a couple of spells; unfortunately the church down the hill is not happy with her or her methods of successes. Victoria is surprised and not prepared at how far they will go to close her down and run her out of town.

Shadow Man
Killian had heard the rumors about this place being haunted, but was hard pressed to believe them. At least not until this night, working graveyard shift…

Belle is on a mission to keep bad karma in its place. Katrina wants to play and Lori’s stuck in the middle without realizing it. Can Lori fix her karma before Belle has to fix it for her?

About the author:

Lynn Thompson’s place is in the Land of Enchantment, where the sky is turquoise blue, the fires rage, and there is rain and/or snow without a cloud in the sky.

Lynn lives with her husband, son, dog, cat, and a tank full of fish. In her spare time she loves to hike, camp, read and write fiction.

She has a degree in graphic arts and web design, but doesn’t have a specific genre that she writes her books in.

She has two novels out: Blake-A Montana Dayton Novel and Sterling-A Montana Dayton Novel. She also has two short stories books out: Dark Fates and News Worthy.

Connect with Lynn:

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Author Spotlight: K. K. Gould

This week’s featured author is K. K. Gould.


This paranormal romance has something for everyone. Tragedy, hospital humor, sadistic psychopath and of course intense, passionate love. Eliza North has been living a quiet life. She works in a busy ER in Layton Michigan, but she has a secret. She’s an immortal hybrid with a horrific past. Her past is about to catch up to her, and a destiny is revealed. A destiny she’s not sure she can handle.

Braxton Slater, an immortal bounty hunter, roars into Layton on a mission to catch a psychopath. The psychopath he’s been hunting for a century, and who murdered his mate. He arrives in Layton to put a beautiful female under surveillance in hopes of drawing out his quarry. The amazing female begins to revive his dead heart and he discovers he is still able to love. Can he keep her safe?

About the author:

I am working on a paranormal romance series titled the Immortal Savior Series. Book 1 Vengeance was released March 13, 2015. It’s available in ebook format on most vendor sites. Paperback will be available in April. Book 2, Awakened is in the works and going well. I am also working on a novella featuring Shane and Layla.

When I’m not immersed in Liza’s destiny I love spending time with my husband and two young kids. In Northern Michigan our summers are short but beautiful. We try to make the most of it by camping and being outside.

Check out my website and Facebook page…

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Flash Fiction Friday: Four More Years

This week’s short story comes from another character profile from my current work-in-progress. I hope you enjoy it!


Four More Years

“Will it hurt?”

Mae, plucking anxiously at her braid of raven hair, gazed up with glassy eyes to her mother, who sat beside her on her bed, the faded Frozen comforter crumpled up at the foot. She was getting a little old for such things, nearly a teenager already, but she had an attachment to one of the few things that belonged to her before her world changed. Before all our worlds changed.

“At first, yes. But when it’s over you’ll never have to worry about pain again. It will all get better.”

Watching this scene unfold before me broke my heart and betrayed everything I believed in. I couldn’t just stand by and let this happen. Not yet.

“Kelly, don’t do this,” I begged, pushing through the cracked door. “She’s not ready. She’s far too young.”

My ex-wife, startled at my intrusion, shot a wide-eyed warning at me. After kissing our daughter good night, she switched the lamp off, shut the black-out curtains, and joined me in the hallway.

“Don’t frighten her like that, Al. You’re only making it harder for us.” She pushed past me toward the kitchen, our special place when it comes to family arguments and soul-crushing relationship meltdowns. I took a seat first, knowing full well that if I remained standing, something in the kitchen would be shattered by the end of our conversation. I raked my fingers through my hair, the same shade of black as my daughter’s and greasy with several days of not showering.

“We’ve talked about this Kell. Over and over and over again. Were you really planning on doing this behind my back? And right under my nose, as if I wouldn’t find out?”

“We may have talked about it, but we never agreed on an age.” Kelly leaned back against the counter, which still held dusty appliances long since used. “They’ve already started enforcing the amendment, Alistair. And I’ve seen what they are doing to the remaining humans. How they’re loading them into trucks and shipping them off to the factories. It’s only a matter of time before they come for her. And then it will be too late.”

“Too late? Too late? Kelly, once we change her it will be too late. Do you really want her to be a child for eternity? Do you think that’s what she wants?”

“How much longer? Five years? Six years? She may not make it that long, Al. I can’t stand the thought of her being turned into a slab of meat. Her entire life reduced to a mere five minutes of enjoyment for one of our kind.”

“That will not happen. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I don’t want to lose her, Al,” Kelly whimpered. She turned away from me, leaning forward on the counter now—the move she always made when she was ready to end the conversation. But it’d been a long night. And I didn’t want to continue anymore either. It’s been a broken record these past nine years, neither of us coming to an agreement, but Kelly always conceding to give Mae just a little more time.

“I’ll stay here from now on. I’ll sleep on the old armchair in the basement. We’ll keep her home. I swear I won’t let anything happen to Mae.”

“Can you promise?” Kelly turned back to me, the whites of her eyes filling with tears and blending into her irises, as red as her ruffled hair.

“Just give her four more years. Four more years to be a little girl before she gets her first taste of blood. Then I’ll change her. She’ll be just like us.”

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Author Spotlight: Y. I. Lee

This week’s featured author is Y. I. Lee.

Through a Glass

Irene, a gifted young artist, always paints with a mirror strategically positioned behind her, as an aid with perspective. As she puts the finishing touches to her latest painting, and studies its reflection in the mirror. She is shocked to see an extremely tall man, half hidden by the trees staring back at her.
Irene had not placed a figure in the painting. So who was he? Where did he come from?
When she examines the canvas, there is no one there!
Puzzled and a little apprehensive, Irene turns, and refocuses on the mirror. To her astonishment, the glass appears strangely liquid. She tentatively puts her hand out to touch it, and in a split second finds herself transported into the world of her own painting.
In this strange and frightening place, Irene meets the mysterious tall man, and embarks on a journey that will test every ounce of courage and faith she possesses.

About the author:

Yvonne was born in Swindon Wiltshire, the eldest of three children.
From a young age her greatest joy was to curl up with a good book. And over time she naturally progressed into writing.
At the age of ten, she ambitiously attempted her first novel but quickly gave up. However, the seed was planted, and in the coming years in between a successful singing career she continued to put pen to paper, writing poetry and short stories.
Yvonne and her husband Keith live in the UK, in the beautiful county of Warwickshire.

Yvonne’s first fantasy novel THE SHADOWED VALLEY was published in Oct 2011.
Followed in 2012 by A RAT and A RANSOM A fantasy novel for children.
Later in 2012 THROUGH A GLASS a fantasy for Y/A was published.
GATHERING STORM, the thrilling
sequel to THROUGH A GLASS was published in Nov 2014.

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Flash Fiction Friday: Changeling


I know what you’ll say. That I was drunk. I was hallucinating the whole thing. But I swear I wasn’t.

My bar isn’t the usual happy-go-lucky, celebratory kind of place where you’ll find Christmas trees, jack-o-lanterns, or candy hearts on those wretched holidays. But some of the guys got together and insisted this year they go all out for St. Paddy’s. I was indifferent, to be honest, with a wife at home putting our daughter to bed and then getting it on with Top Model and a fishbowl of Rocky Road. Home was the last place I wanted to be. I just needed a few drinks.

I stumbled in to my local dive and said my hellos while a slightly incompetent jazz band attempted to belt out old Irish folk tunes. It was the owner’s brother’s band. They played every Tuesday and they were actually starting to sound halfway decent. Unfortunately, their rendition of “Donald, Where’s Your Trousers” sounded like a horse that had been fed a bucket of tequila and then dropped down a deep well. I almost turned around when Miranda tossed a green felt top hat on me, but the acrid scent of stale alcohol—the odor that seems to swim in the atmosphere of all bars—lured me in further.

Miranda usually tended the bar on weekends, but she was pulled in this Tuesday evening for the speculated large crowd that was sure to be here. There were already a few more strangers than usually filling up the stools.

“What are you havin’?” Miranda flashed a smile at me, though her eyes were tired and droopy. Maybe she was pulling a double.

“Jim Beam and Coke.”

“Top o’ the evenin’ to ya!” A hand slapped my shoulder. It was Burt, my drinking buddy and one of the happy hour gang who orchestrated this madness. He was dressed head to toe in ridiculous shades of green, his pants rolled up to reveal knee length socks with stripes of green, white, and orange.

“What, no shamrock coasters? Pots of gold? Little Irish flags?” I asked incredulously.

Miranda came back a plopped my drink on a coaster in front of me with a frown. “Party supply company got our orders mixed up. We should have had some metallic green beads for the customers. Instead they sent us a gross of plastic dinosaurs.”

“Some poor kid’s going to have a leprechaun birthday party,” I mumbled, taking a sip of the sweet nectar and savoring the bite as it poured down my throat.

When I lifted my head, Miranda was gone, and on the other side of the bar a woman caught my gaze. Her hair was scarlet, ringed with curls and her eyes as bright and green as Burt’s pantaloons. What looked like an antique oval locket dipped over her porcelain décolletage. I had to admit, I was getting hard just looking at her. And when she winked and smiled at me, I knew I had to talk to her. But first, I had to buy her a drink.

“Miranda,” I called out. I returned the wink to the striking lady just before Miranda blocked her from my view. “I’d like to buy a round for the redhead over there. Whatever she’s drinking. Put it on my tab.”

Miranda’s eyebrows scrunched together like a Shar Pei and she turned briefly to look back at the lady.

“Jon, I think it’s time you went home.”

“What? Jesus, I’m just buying her a drink, not asking for a lap dance.”

“Get out of here, Jon. Go home to your wife.”

“Is that what this is about? It’s just a drink, Miranda. I’m not going home with her.”

With a frustrated grunt, Miranda stepped to the side. The woman was gone.

“She was just there, I swear!” I turned to Burt to back me up, because he always spots the pretty ladies when they come in. But to my amazement, he was not there either. “Where’s Burt?”

“Burt left two hours ago.”

“That’s crazy, I just got he—” I looked down at my watch. Miranda was right. I’d just lost three hours.

“Go home, Jon. You can pick up the tab tomorrow.” Miranda took what remained of my drink and glared at me until I stood and turned to the door.

Outside, I could hear the revelers drunkenly singing “Whiskey in the Jar” as I trudged to my truck. I didn’t feel drunk. Not at all. What the hell just happened? I unlocked the door and climbed into the seat.

Driving home, I went through the events of the evening in my head, trying to make sense of how I could lose so much time. It was like a rock poking my ass. No, wait. There really was something poking my ass. I reached under me and found a bulging metal object with a chain attached. It was the woman’s locket. My truck screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the road. What the hell?

I checked the bed of the pickup and all over the cab. Nobody was in my truck. But I did find my cell phone in the backseat, which was very odd to say the least. Shoving it into my back pocket I turned the engine and went home.

The next morning, I stumbled downstairs, still wearing my clothes from last night, and I found my wife sitting at the kitchen table, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She gazed out the window, oblivious to the tears that had stained her cheeks. Her eyes and nose were red as if she’d be punched in the face. In front of her, on the table, was my phone. As I closed in on her, the screen came into view, showing a photo of the beautiful scarlet-haired lady. And me. Together. Smiling and disconcertingly close. How is that possible? At this point I started to doubt my own sanity.

Before I could say anything, or refute any knowledge of the photo, my daughter came skipping out of her room and upon seeing my phone, snatched it off the table. My wife lurched for it, but the girl was too quick. This was hard enough to explain to my wife. How on earth was I going to explain it to my daughter?

“Daddy? Who is this lady?”

I drooped my head in shame. “I don’t know, darling. I don’t know.” My wife glared at me with daggers.

“I do,” my daughter said gleefully.

My wife and I both stared at her in awed silence. “You do?”

“Yes. She’s my fairy mom. I know because that’s her locket.”

I remembered the old tales my grandmother used to tell me about fairies who pulled mischievous pranks on humans and how they would swap out fairy children for human children. Changelings, they called them. I don’t know why that particular thought popped into my mind at this particular time. I never gave those stories much thought at all. They were just fairy tales. And I still thought my daughter simply had a wild imagination. But something urged me to pluck the locket out from my pocket.

“That’s it!” she cried. “Open it, Daddy! Open it!”

Inside the locket was a tiny photo of the redheaded lady. And a photo of my daughter.

The next day, my daughter disappeared.


This week’s short story was brought to you courtesy of writing prompts at

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Free for your Kindle!

Just a quick note to let you all know that Fall of Venus will be free through March 19. Be sure to pick up your copy! And if you are looking for something to read until my next release, be sure to check out Flash Fiction Fridays.

Fall of Venus - Daelynn Quinn

Twenty-year-old Pollen McRae wakes up in the wilderness, beaten and scarred, with an unusual mark tattooed upon her temple, and has no memory of what put her there. While pursued by a trio of backwoods bounty hunters, she collides with Marcus, a man under eerily similar circumstances. Together, they escape imminent death, only to learn the world around them is no longer the world they knew. An uncontrolled, lethal virus has depleted the entire animal population except for a few humans with a rare genetic mutation, and the infallible infinity fly, an insect that stands as a symbol for the survivors.

Soon, Pollen learns that the local survivors were rounded up and sent to live at a refuge housed inside a high security penitentiary under the guise of safety. Only, those who run the refuge have less than noble intentions. When Pollen learns that her niece may still be alive, she and Marcus must do the impossible. Getting into the prison will be a piece of cake. But how will they get out? And where will they go when the rest of the world is dead?

Reviews from Goodreads:

This book was so intense! It was very well-written and I had trouble putting it down. It had a bit of a love triangle, but the main focus was on figuring out what had happened and doing something about it. Very action packed with a lot of layers. I loved it! ~Hannah

Let me first say, I have never read a Dystopian novel I didn’t really know what to expect. I LOVED this! The author just sucks you in to her story. Her writing style flowed so smoothly. The characters are well developed, the plot had many twists and turns, word building was awesome and it kept me on my toes. ~A Girl Amongst Books

My first thought when I read the last paragraph was “Oh my gosh, I get it now!” I love that!!! This was the first time I’ve ever had that kind of a revelation at the end of a story. What a fantasic way to end part 1. I’m glad I didn’t read any reviews before I read this book. I think some of the reviews would have ruined the ending for me. If you’re thinking about reading this (and I highly recommend that you do), then please try not to read anymore reviews. Trust me, its so much more fun to figure it out on your own!
Intriguing, fast paced and an absolutely awesome story with wonderful characters! I can’t wait to read the next book!! ~Michelle

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Flash Fiction Friday: Split Second

Split Second

 I honestly thought the light was green.

In a flash, my senses converged with the ear-piercing squeal of brakes, the crunch of metal, the crackling of shattered glass, and the wind on my face as I was thrown from the car.

I honestly thought the light was green. It was a routine drive to the coffee shop after class when I heard the ping from my phone. And I only took my eyes off the road for a second—just a split second—to read the text from Travis. Things were heating up with him. Last night we’d kissed for the first time at the club and he’d given me a ride home when he saw that I was in no shape to drive. I knew he was ready to take it to the next level and so was I.

“C U 2nite?” 

I swear it was only a split second.

I didn’t even see the truck. I didn’t see anything until I was outside under the streetlights, lifting myself off the warm asphalt littered with glittering shards of glass. It’s a miracle I survived at all, much less with no major injuries—especially from the look of the Mercedes, a sweet sixteen gift from my daddy with his over inflated bank account. He wasn’t much of a dad but what he missed out on time, he made up for in dollars. It was no longer a car but a crumpled hunk of metal and glass and diamond white metallic paint. The truck was a wreck, too, it’s face smashed in up to the dash. Through the cracked window I could see the driver, slumped over the steering wheel, a splash of scarlet oozing from his head. I rushed over, but suddenly the place lit up with an alternating blue and red haze. The entire scene reminded me of a nightclub after way too many tequila shots. Emergency services were here. I thought I’d best sit on the curb and stay out of the way.

There was a flurry of activity around the vehicles. EMTs lifted the unconscious man from the truck onto a gurney and loaded it into an ambulance. Cars were beginning to pile up on all four sides behind the wreck, the ones in the back making three-point turns to find another route. People on the previously empty sidewalks stared and murmured in grotesque curiosity, some even whipping out their smartphones to capture the commotion on video. That’s when I remembered my phone. Travis. I had to send him a text. I probably wouldn’t make it tonight.

Emergency responders were hovering around my car, trying to find a way in, as I zigzagged my way through the bustle. Why was it that nobody even seemed to notice me? I approached them as a fireman shattered the windshield, nobody bothering to stop me or ask questions. But when I saw him pull my limp body from the wreckage, I finally understood why.

This short story comes to you courtesy of writing prompts at A Writer’s Path.

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Author Spotlight: Curran Geist

This week’s featured author is Curran Geist.

The Sity

The sounds could only mean one thing… They were coming for me…

Victor’s memory has been damaged from months of torture and enslavement. There’s one thing they can’t steal from him…the hope of finding his lost family. Carina is haunted by strange visions and the symbols etched into her skin. She will stop at nothing to discover her true identity.

In this tale of survival and vengeance, two young humans fight back against the oppression of an alien race called the Kuljik. Dangers and unspeakable horrors lie around every corner of the Sity, a violent metropolis where enslaved humans are abused for the pleasure of the aliens. Victor and Carina are both blessed with mysterious supernatural powers and represent humanity’s best hope to escape. Will their personal demons cause them to unravel as they forge the destiny of their futures?

This is the first book in a planned four book series.

About the author:

Curran Geist is the warped brain behind The Sity series. The inspiration for his books of extraterrestrial terror all began in the quaint town of Schwenksville, PA where he grew up. Curran often lived within books, and his vibrant imagination sucked him into nightmarish realms beyond the tiny town where he was raised.

For much of his life, Curran Geist has dedicated himself toward human rights work. He was honored to serve in AmeriCorps and also to work for Museum of Tolerance New York, Simon Wiesenthal Center, where he lead trainings to combat bigotry and discrimination. Human rights issues are still very important to Curran. In writing The Sity and Only the Cold Remains, Curran has merged his love of science fiction and horror genres with his belief in tackling social injustices. His novels paint a dystopian and post-apocalyptic landscape that mirrors many modern day social issues, including: the exploitation of children, sexual slavery, and cruelty towards animals.

Curran Geist is grateful to be a part of the At Hell’s Gate horror anthology series. All proceeds from these books support The Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund, which helps wounded soldiers and their families.

Curran currently lives in New Jersey with his wife and newborn daughter.…

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