Sneak Peek!!

Anybody want a sneak peek of Book 2 of the Reese Hawking Series? Well, here she is.

The Crew: Chapter 1

Desperation. More powerful than money. More motivating than power. And Benny was motivated. He pulled his ball cap down and watched the night sky through the passenger side window of the dark blue SUV. When G made the left onto Louisiana Ave towards the Garden District, Benny thought back over the last year. He remembered every tear he’d shed. He felt the pang of guilt as the faces of those he’d let down flashed across his mind. The anger rose in him at the thought of every single wasted dollar he had spent. He took the sorrow and the guilt and the anger and packed them all into that place in his chest that pushed him to do things he never thought he’d do. That place of desperation. He turned his focus to the faces of his targets. And their perfect white house on the corner.

He scoffed, thinking of their pristine white walls. The two-foot wrought-iron fence surrounding the front yard. The ivy-covered wall around back. And the perfectly pretentious couple, fast asleep in the upstairs master bedroom. Benny wondered if they would ever figure out why they’d been targeted. He doubted they ever would. Maybe he would tell them. As he stared into their terrified eyes, maybe he would recount everything their greed and hate had taken from him. Isn’t that what all the greatest villains did in movies? Explained to their victims exactly how it was all their fault. That he would never have done any of this if they hadn’t been so evil and heartless.

He dropped his head and stared at his hands. Was he a villain now? He couldn’t be. Not in the traditional sense. They did what they did for personal gain. Something inane like money or fame. Benny had higher motivations. He was a hero villain, like the Count of Monte Cristo. His sole focus was righting the wrongs that truly evil people had inflicted upon him.

A barking dog returned him to the SUV, the dark night, and the four men who rode with him. He watched the familiar houses go by and took a deep breath. By the time G stopped the car on the street behind the white house on the corner, Benny had decided that he was no villain at all. He was retribution. He turned in the seat to face his crew, his eyes darting to each man as he gave final instructions.

“One last time before we do this. As soon as we’re over the fence, D cuts the electricity. V cracks the glass on the back door. Once the door is open, we’re in and out in six minutes. J, you get the wife. D, you get the old man. I’ll do the rest. No shots. We don’t need a mess tonight.”

Benny turned to his driver. “G, leave the car running. When we leave, don’t peel out. No tire marks. Drive out of here just like you came in, slow and steady.” He turned back to the others. “Everybody got it?” Nods from everyone. He spoke into the walkie talkie on his lap. “We clear?”

Her voice came back, calm and quiet. “All clear.”

Benny took off his ball cap and replaced it with a black ski mask. He pulled it down over his face, leaving only his eyes visible. The others did the same before filing out onto the street. Getting over the fence took less than twenty seconds. D had the electric line cut ten seconds later. At forty-five seconds, they were inside. Benny punched in the alarm code on the panel by the back door before the fourth beep sounded. Then he flipped on the light attached to the barrel of his gun. He led the others through the dining room, past the kitchen and family room, to the base of the white carpeted stairs. The master bedroom door at the end of the second-floor hallway was wide open. Didn’t they know how dangerous that was? Benny heard the man snoring before his foot hit the top of the landing. If the wife could sleep through that, there was no way she heard them come inside.

He shone his small light down to the floor. Careful not to let the beam fall on their hosts’ faces. He motioned for J to turn his light off and go around to the right side of the bed, where the woman slept. D did the same, walking around to the husband’s side. Both men pointed their guns at the sleeping couple and looked back at Benny. He gave them a nod. D and J each put a hand over their targets’ mouths and shook them awake. The woman tried to scream. It came out more like a muffled gurgle. The man braced himself to fight. He settled down when he saw the gun pointed at his forehead. The woman was already crying. Her tears almost made Benny laugh.

He walked to the end of the bed and spoke quietly. “Stop fighting. No screaming. Give me what I want and we won’t hurt you.” Two minutes. Three minutes. Four. He checked his watch after closing the door to the SUV. Five minutes and thirty-two seconds.

He handed the papers to V and removed his mask. V already had the laptop open. “Get to work. Masks off. Heads down.” Benny put his cap back on and lightly hit G on the arm. “Let’s go. Nice and easy.” As they pulled off, Benny picked up his walkie talkie and gave her one final instruction. “All good. Let’s go.”

“Meet you there,” she answered.

He watched her in the rearview. She started the car and slowly pulled off in the opposite direction, car lights off. That’s my girl, he thought, his lips slightly turning up at the corners. He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. They had been quick, but it was messy. They couldn’t afford those kinds of missteps. He would have to get that under control before the next one.

He pictured their next mark in his mind. Pristine front yard. Perfectly polished floors. Pictures of the family arranged on the mantel just so. He felt no guilt, just deep resolution. He was resolved to what had to be done. Resolved to the notion that someone had to pay. Might as well be them.

Writer’s block is real…

The first book I wrote probably took me over a year to finish. Stolen Sunshine may have taken 9 months. The other Reese books took maybe 6 months each. I feel like I’ve been writing book 5 of the Reese Hawking series for somewhere around 2 years. It hasn’t actually been that long but my brain feels every second I’m not finishing that book as if it’s an hour. I don’t know if I would call it writer’s block per se but it’s something. And it’s the most frustrating thing EVER. I know who Reese is. I know who David is. I know Al and every other character I’ve written. I know where I want them all to go. I just can’t make my brain find the path to get them there. It feels like I have too many ideas. Too many cases for Reese to solve. Too many triumphs and too many roadblocks. How do I organize them all to make sense in the universe I created? How do I continue to grow Reese and David into the people I envision them to be? How do I add new characters and evolve the ones on the periphery who I know have bigger stories to tell? And how do I make you all continue to love them all as much as I do? To say the least, I’m feeling the pressure. But I’m also loving the challenge. To find a way to break through the blockage and create. Let’s see if 3 days on the beach can inspire me.

And now for the hard part

What’s the best part of being a self-published author? Easy. Creating stories and entire worlds from scratch. What’s the hardest part of being a self-published author? Easier. Having to promote yourSELF. I am terrible at this part. Like super duper really bad. I hate being the center of attention. I hate hearing myself talk. And I hate talking about myself. Which is basically the point. I’ve been watching other self-published authors and taking their advice to get more review. I’ve been posting on social media and just made my first TikTok. And I am exhausted. But, if I want to do anything with my writing, this is just what I’m going to have to do. So I’m committing myself to start small. One thing a week to promote my book. I realize that the goal should be more like one thing per day, but baby steps friends. Baby steps. Thankfully, today’s work is done. Now let me me go find something mindless to watch on television cause my brain hurts. Happy Reading!

SHE’S HERE!!!

Reese Hawking is HERE! I really did it. I published a whole book. Last Thursday I came home from work super late. My husband had carried 3 boxes into my office. I knew what was inside (I had been tracking the packages for DAYS). Before I got out of my work clothes or took a shower, I sat in the middle of the floor and carefully cut the tape off of the first box. And there she was. My first published novel. The words I had written and edited and edited and written 20 times over. I held the book in my hands and cried like a baby. Like real sobbing and tears and snot. The sense of accomplishment mixed with pride and fear and disbelief to create this crazy combination of emotions like nothing I had ever experiences. It was like a dream and a relief all wrapped into one. I jumped off that cliff and put myself out there. I don’t know what will happen next and that’s okay. What matters is that I faced my fear. I presented my work to the world. What y’all do with it from here is up to you. My job is done…or is it just starting??

Welp…I did it

It’s 9:27pm on October 30th 2023 and it’s finally done. I just sent the payment in to self-publish my book. I legit don’t have too much to say right now except that there’s a distinct throbbing in the right side of my head and I’m also feeling a little nauseated. Totally normal right. To finally do something you’ve been dreaming about for almost 8 years is WILD. Now we wait for the books I ordered to arrive and then wait to see how people will receive it. At this point, that’s something I really have to make myself not worry about. I wrote the book I wanted to read. I love my characters. I love the story. And at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters. I spent the money. I took a chance. And that’s that. Welcome inside my head friends. It’s interesting up here. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Tomorrow is Picture Day

I hate taking pictures. It’s why I have avoided social media sites like Instagram for literal years. I would barely go on the site and even when I did, I would just scroll through everyone else’s posts. My hatred of picture taking is more like a weird deep seeded self-loathing thing I do with myself. I always feel like I look awkward and shiny in pictures and I never know what to do with my hands. And yet, with all of those ridiculous emotions, tomorrow is picture day. A whole photo shoot with wardrobe changes and everything for my website. It’s like I have created my own personal hell. But I gotta do it if I want current, halfway decent pictures that aren’t old as dirt. (My previous Twitter profile pic was taken somewhere around 7 years ago). I think I know what I’m wearing and after being natural for like 6 years, I think I’ve finally figured out my hair so I think I’m ready. It’ll be great. Right???

Who am I kidding? I’m a nervous wreck. The only upside here is that the person who will be behind the camera is one of the best people I know and I know she loves me and I know she won’t let me look like a fool so there’s that. All I wanted to do was release an entire piece of art into the world. Now I gotta do the unthinkable and take pictures too. Oh well. If we’re jumping, we might as well do it in the deep end, right!

It’s Really Happening (I think)

After being threatened, cajoled, and I possibly bribed, I am finally going to self-publish this book. For real this time. I legitimately don’t know when I started writing this thing (it has to be at least 5 years ago) but I will finally introduce the world to Reese Hawking, a fierce, independent, brilliant woman who will stop at nothing to protect what she loves. Is Reese me? Perhaps. Will you love her as much as I do? That has yet to be seen. All I can say for certain is that before 2023 is over, I will have released Reese and everything she holds dear into the wild. What happens after that, the Lord only knows. Either way, my debut novel is almost ready for the world. Whether or not I’m ready is whole other story.

Taking a Leap of Faith…or Whatever

At the beginning of 2023, my husband gave me an ultimatum. Publish your book by September or…well, or nothing. I guess it wasn’t so much an ultimatum. More like a request. With force. I had decided a while ago to self publish but after looking into how much money it actually costs to release a book, I kind of put the idea on hold. I kept pushing it off. Saying we couldn’t afford it. Cause I’m cheap. And terrified.

How exactly do artists put their work out into the world on a regular basis and not constantly throw up? I just sent my novel to a copyeditor like two days ago and I’m dying inside. She will be the first person to read it who doesn’t already love me. Meaning, she isn’t obligated to tell me it’s good. What if it sucks? What if she hates it? I mean, I realize I’m not paying her to tell me if it’s good or not but still. I. Am. Dying.

Anyway, I’ve chosen the company I want to use to publish and have taken the first steps to actually doing it. The plan is to use this blog to chronicle my journey from almost throwing up at just the idea of anyone who isn’t related to me reading the book to maybe one day actually holding my book in my hand. So friends, let’s see how this goes…