Hey guys! Welcome to today's blog barrage. The Designs Series is published by Valley Publishing, and both books are 200 pages long. They are YA fantasy romances containing elements of action and adventure. And for those wondering about the heat level, it's sweet.
Dangerous Designs
Drawing is her world...but when her new pencil comes alive, it's his world too.
Her... Storey Dalton is seventeen and now boyfriendless after being dumped via Facebook. Drawing is her escape. It's like as soon as she gets down one image, a dozen more are pressing in on her. Then she realizes her pictures are almost drawing themselves...or is it that her new pencil is alive?
Him... Eric Jordan is a new Ranger and the only son of the Councilman to his world. He's crossed the veil between dimensions to retrieve a lost stylus. But Storey is already experimenting with her new pencil and what her drawings can do - like open portals.
It... The stylus is a soul-bound intelligence from Eric's dimension on Earth and uses Storey's unsuspecting mind to seek its way home, giving her an unbelievable power. She unwittingly opens a third dimension, one that held a dangerous predatory species banished from Eric's world centuries ago, releasing these animals into both dimensions.
Them... Once in Eric's homeland, Storey is blamed for the calamity sentenced to death. When she escapes, Eric is ordered to bring her back or face that same death penalty. With nothing to lose, can they work together across dimensions to save both their worlds?
Buy it from Amazon
Time for a short excerpt from Dangerous Designs!
"Storey, is that you, honey?"
Her mother knocked on the door and pushed it open, the light from the hallway lighting the few silver strands in her otherwise brown hair. "Can't you sleep?"
"Sorry if I woke you." Storey sat up, brushing her own jet black hair back off her face. "Just a bad dream."
"That's because you didn't have any dinner. I checked up on you after the meeting finished. You'd fallen asleep." Her mother's fingers twisted around a dangling lock of hair as she stepped into the room. She bit her lip. "Storey, you have to eat. You're already skinny enough."
Bone rack is what a jock had called her last month. Looking down, Storey realized they could be right. Her hip bones stuck out to match her big elbows. And her body had developed to the point where she barely missed the skinny scarecrow look. Too bad. She might have been able to make that work.
"I'm eating, Mom. They had pizza in class today, so I didn't need my lunch. Ate that on the way home." That was a lie. Still, she had more important things to worry about than food.
Relief washed over her mom's pretty face. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that. Sometimes I worry about you."
Sometimes? Didn't she mean all the time? Was that normal for moms? Then again, there was a world of difference between normal and her mother.
"What time is it?" Storey looked out the window. Blackness stared back.
"It's just a little after midnight. Please get into your pajamas. You don't want to be sleeping in those jeans." She backed up to the open door. "If you're all right, I'll say good night. It is witching hour, after all." With a carefree grin, her mom closed the door.
Witching hour. Right. Only in her house. Sighing at her mother's antics, Storey collapsed down on her covers and fell into a light, troubled sleep.
"Storey."
She sighed. "What now, Mom?"
No answer. She sat up and glanced at the closed door. Weird. She could've sworn she'd heard someone calling her. Lying down again, she pulled her blankets over top, not bothering to get changed into her nightclothes.
"Storey."
She bolted upright. That's it. Who the hell was playing games with her?
"Storey."
Throwing back the blankets, Storey knelt on her bed. "Who said that?" she hissed into the early morning air. Not trusting the gloomy light, she flicked her bedside lamp on, quickly scanning the room. Empty. "I am so losing it. This is nuts."
Her gaze landed on the backpack on her floor. Her eyes widened. Oh no.
"No, no. Hell, no." She shook her head, slowly at first then more wildly. "This can't be happening. It's a picture. Nothing more. Nothing less. I created you. I can destroy you."
That's exactly what she was going to do. She dragged the backpack onto her bed and opened it. The knot defied her first and second attempts, before she managed to pull the laces apart and yank out her sketchpad. "I don't know what's going on here, but enough is enough."
She flipped to the last page she'd been working on and grabbed it at the top left and pulled. It wouldn't tear off. She tightened her grip and tried again. It refused to budge. Scared now, she threw it on the floor and in a fit of defiance, she jumped on it.
And fell through the picture, through the floor even.
She went right through the doorway in her picture.
Her mother knocked on the door and pushed it open, the light from the hallway lighting the few silver strands in her otherwise brown hair. "Can't you sleep?"
"Sorry if I woke you." Storey sat up, brushing her own jet black hair back off her face. "Just a bad dream."
"That's because you didn't have any dinner. I checked up on you after the meeting finished. You'd fallen asleep." Her mother's fingers twisted around a dangling lock of hair as she stepped into the room. She bit her lip. "Storey, you have to eat. You're already skinny enough."
Bone rack is what a jock had called her last month. Looking down, Storey realized they could be right. Her hip bones stuck out to match her big elbows. And her body had developed to the point where she barely missed the skinny scarecrow look. Too bad. She might have been able to make that work.
"I'm eating, Mom. They had pizza in class today, so I didn't need my lunch. Ate that on the way home." That was a lie. Still, she had more important things to worry about than food.
Relief washed over her mom's pretty face. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that. Sometimes I worry about you."
Sometimes? Didn't she mean all the time? Was that normal for moms? Then again, there was a world of difference between normal and her mother.
"What time is it?" Storey looked out the window. Blackness stared back.
"It's just a little after midnight. Please get into your pajamas. You don't want to be sleeping in those jeans." She backed up to the open door. "If you're all right, I'll say good night. It is witching hour, after all." With a carefree grin, her mom closed the door.
Witching hour. Right. Only in her house. Sighing at her mother's antics, Storey collapsed down on her covers and fell into a light, troubled sleep.
"Storey."
She sighed. "What now, Mom?"
No answer. She sat up and glanced at the closed door. Weird. She could've sworn she'd heard someone calling her. Lying down again, she pulled her blankets over top, not bothering to get changed into her nightclothes.
"Storey."
She bolted upright. That's it. Who the hell was playing games with her?
"Storey."
Throwing back the blankets, Storey knelt on her bed. "Who said that?" she hissed into the early morning air. Not trusting the gloomy light, she flicked her bedside lamp on, quickly scanning the room. Empty. "I am so losing it. This is nuts."
Her gaze landed on the backpack on her floor. Her eyes widened. Oh no.
"No, no. Hell, no." She shook her head, slowly at first then more wildly. "This can't be happening. It's a picture. Nothing more. Nothing less. I created you. I can destroy you."
That's exactly what she was going to do. She dragged the backpack onto her bed and opened it. The knot defied her first and second attempts, before she managed to pull the laces apart and yank out her sketchpad. "I don't know what's going on here, but enough is enough."
She flipped to the last page she'd been working on and grabbed it at the top left and pulled. It wouldn't tear off. She tightened her grip and tried again. It refused to budge. Scared now, she threw it on the floor and in a fit of defiance, she jumped on it.
And fell through the picture, through the floor even.
She went right through the doorway in her picture.
Deadly Designs
Drawing is her world...but when she's banished to a deadly new world and needs help, it's his world too.
Her... Storey Dalton wants to go home - but something goes terrifyingly wrong and she ends up in her worst nightmare. There's no escape...not without Eric or her stylus. Then she finds someone who needs rescuing even more than she does...
Him... Eric Jordan races to save Storey, only to realize a close family member has betrayed them both. Now the enemy is closing in on him. When he meets up with Storey, he knows her plans are a bad idea, but she won't be dissuaded...and it could be their only way of staying alive.
It... The stylus, now bonded to Storey's artistic soul, is determined to survive this new chaos - against all odds. But damaged from a prolonged separation, he can't help Story or Eric - without making things worse.
Them... Storey is determined to make things right. Eric is determined to help her. Neither counts the personal cost, until their very lives are in danger.
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Read a short excerpt from Deadly Designs!
Closing her eyes she called out to the stylus in a soft whisper. "Are you there?"
A buzz answered her. Stronger, clearer, but still indistinct because she had no way to write down the answers. She grabbed her zipper pull and held it against what must be a seat butted up against the side of the table and asked again.
Slowly her hand moved. Yes.
Oh thank heavens for that.
"Where are you?"
Don't know.
Of course it didn't. Neither did she. But...it was a computer-like thingy so maybe it could send out a beacon. Transmitting is what she thought it was called. Or something like that. She didn't know much about computers except to use one to get onto the Internet.
"Can you send out a signal, a noise to let me know where you are?"
Instantly, there was an odd ring tone going off in her head. Or in the air? No, surely not. She spun around looking for the source. There, in the cupboards. She raced toward the spot, scared to alert whoever was in the other room to her presence. There were deep shelves inside. She quickly searched them. The stylus just looked like an old carpenter's pencil. Dull and dark, it was hard to see in the dark.
The noise was definitely louder here. Excited, she dropped to her knees and checked the bottom spaces. Maybe it had been dropped.
The noise increased to almost deafening now. A good sign. She rummaged through items that made her happy as they were almost recognizable. A ball, maybe a bat? A bunch of toys like a ball on string or wire and a wooden post. Like a child's closet. Off to one side were tablets of some kind. Maybe for writing on, like miniature chalkboards. Even chalk would be a huge help. She should have had some in her backpack – if and when she ever found it. She moved to the next cubby hole and the music in her head changed from a weird ring tone to an almost soothing lullaby.
"Does that mean I'm almost there, Stylus?"
The lullaby increased in volume. It increased so much, she could hardly stand it. She shoved her hand into the jumbled mess and closed around a half dozen objects.
She touched something that made her fingers tingle.
The lullaby came to a dead stop.
Warmth shot up her arm. She withdrew her handful until she could see what she'd snagged clearly.
Her stylus!
Joy shot through her. She was saved.
And then she took another look and stopped. How could this be possible?
There, clutched in her fingers, were three pencils that could have all been styluses. And maybe they were? Who would have stashed these in here, lost and forgotten gems that could have saved these people so much hardship?
She didn't know that they were styluses, but as she studied each one, the magical lettering shone on the side of each one. Unbelievable. Did they have souls attached to them too?
And if there were three, what was the chance there were more?
It was important to find every one. She didn't know how she knew that, but she did. Tucking those three securely into her pocket, she dove into the bottom of the cupboard and sorted through the mess. And found two more. Unbelievable. Now she didn't dare leave any behind. There were people in there, after all.
She felt responsible for getting them to safety, too. Knowing she didn't have the time to spare, but unable to help herself, she went back in for a third and final time, she found one more, really old looking one jammed into the joinery at the very back. Six styluses. Pulling back slightly, a wary eye to the open door, she moved over and checked every cupboard, as fast and as systematically as she could in order to not miss one. Ten panicked minutes later, she had a broken one in her hand. No others though. She'd searched every shelf. Now to safety.
She ran across the room and back into the open doorway from where she'd entered.
Just as she hit the safety of the darkness, she heard a loud grunt behind her.
Shit.
A buzz answered her. Stronger, clearer, but still indistinct because she had no way to write down the answers. She grabbed her zipper pull and held it against what must be a seat butted up against the side of the table and asked again.
Slowly her hand moved. Yes.
Oh thank heavens for that.
"Where are you?"
Don't know.
Of course it didn't. Neither did she. But...it was a computer-like thingy so maybe it could send out a beacon. Transmitting is what she thought it was called. Or something like that. She didn't know much about computers except to use one to get onto the Internet.
"Can you send out a signal, a noise to let me know where you are?"
Instantly, there was an odd ring tone going off in her head. Or in the air? No, surely not. She spun around looking for the source. There, in the cupboards. She raced toward the spot, scared to alert whoever was in the other room to her presence. There were deep shelves inside. She quickly searched them. The stylus just looked like an old carpenter's pencil. Dull and dark, it was hard to see in the dark.
The noise was definitely louder here. Excited, she dropped to her knees and checked the bottom spaces. Maybe it had been dropped.
The noise increased to almost deafening now. A good sign. She rummaged through items that made her happy as they were almost recognizable. A ball, maybe a bat? A bunch of toys like a ball on string or wire and a wooden post. Like a child's closet. Off to one side were tablets of some kind. Maybe for writing on, like miniature chalkboards. Even chalk would be a huge help. She should have had some in her backpack – if and when she ever found it. She moved to the next cubby hole and the music in her head changed from a weird ring tone to an almost soothing lullaby.
"Does that mean I'm almost there, Stylus?"
The lullaby increased in volume. It increased so much, she could hardly stand it. She shoved her hand into the jumbled mess and closed around a half dozen objects.
She touched something that made her fingers tingle.
The lullaby came to a dead stop.
Warmth shot up her arm. She withdrew her handful until she could see what she'd snagged clearly.
Her stylus!
Joy shot through her. She was saved.
And then she took another look and stopped. How could this be possible?
There, clutched in her fingers, were three pencils that could have all been styluses. And maybe they were? Who would have stashed these in here, lost and forgotten gems that could have saved these people so much hardship?
She didn't know that they were styluses, but as she studied each one, the magical lettering shone on the side of each one. Unbelievable. Did they have souls attached to them too?
And if there were three, what was the chance there were more?
It was important to find every one. She didn't know how she knew that, but she did. Tucking those three securely into her pocket, she dove into the bottom of the cupboard and sorted through the mess. And found two more. Unbelievable. Now she didn't dare leave any behind. There were people in there, after all.
She felt responsible for getting them to safety, too. Knowing she didn't have the time to spare, but unable to help herself, she went back in for a third and final time, she found one more, really old looking one jammed into the joinery at the very back. Six styluses. Pulling back slightly, a wary eye to the open door, she moved over and checked every cupboard, as fast and as systematically as she could in order to not miss one. Ten panicked minutes later, she had a broken one in her hand. No others though. She'd searched every shelf. Now to safety.
She ran across the room and back into the open doorway from where she'd entered.
Just as she hit the safety of the darkness, she heard a loud grunt behind her.
Shit.
Dale Mayer
Dale Mayer is a prolific multi-published writer. She's best known for her Psychic Visions series. Besides her romantic suspense/thrillers, Dale also writes paranormal romance and crossover young adult books in several different genres. To go with her fiction, she also writes nonfiction in many different fields with books available on resume writing, companion gardening and the US mortgage system. She has recently published her Career Essentials Series . All her books are available in print format as well.Visit Dale online at:Website - http://www.dalemayer.comTwitter - http://www.twitter.com/dalemayerFacebook - http://www.facebook.com/dalemayer.authorBOOKS BY DALE MAYERPsychic Vision SeriesTuesday's ChildHide'n Go SeekMaddy's FloorGarden of Sorrow - Out December 1, 2012Single Title Romantic Suspense/thrillersTouched by Death – out now!NovellasIt's a Dog's Life- romantic comedyYoung Adult BooksIn Cassie's CornerDangerous Designs – Book IDeadly Designs – Book 2 – out now!Vampire in Denial – Book I of Blood TiesVampire in Distress – Book 2!Gem Stone Mystery Series- out now!Non-Fiction BooksCareer Essentials: The ResumeCareer Essentials: The Cover LetterCareer Essentials: The InterviewCareer Essentials: 3 in 1
So yep, that's about it for today! Thanks for visiting!
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