Lucky Number 7

I wanted to give a shout out to those who have read and reviewed my book Unbridled. I got my seventh review at Amazon recently, and I know I’m no where near some of the other indie writers when it comes to reviews, but each and every review and rating on Amazon and Goodreads means the world to me and gives me hope for the next book.

Thank you! And thank you for giving me such positive feedback.

If you have read Unbridled or are planning on reading it, thank you as well!

How about a treat? Here is a snippet from my new series, The Avenging Sisters, with the first short story entitled Mod Fury coming out this summer.

The mood mellowed with that statement, and they met each other’s eyes with mutual understanding on why they were here. They couldn’t play and enjoy themselves all the time, even though the twenty-first century made that easier. The Furies still had important tasks to fulfill; it was in their blood, and in any given moment they could resort to their darker selves if it meant saving the innocents. It was their true purpose, hunting terrible people one by one so they could bestow their justice.

And last but not least, if you just love writing, reading and blogging in general please take a moment to visit my sister’s blog: Fear Nothing, Risk Everything. She’s a wonderful, strong and beautiful soul, a great mother and even more amazing woman, and she’s fighting breast cancer right now. She’s documenting her journey through this troubling time.

If you could pop by and just give her a comment, like or encouragement, I think she’d appreciate that!

Cheers.

H.K. Rowe

The 777 Writer’s Challenge

I’ve been nominated by Aether House to participate in The 777 Writer’s Challenge. The rules? Go to the 7th page of my WIP, find the 7th sentence on that page, and then paste the following 7 sentences into my blog post. And then select 7 other writers for the challenge.

From Killer Orange, the fic I hopefully can finish this year!

Her gaze swept across the lawns of her neighbors, and she realized how much time had passed since she set out on this journey. The sun was already setting over the horizon behind the towering homes.

Her eye caught one of her new neighbors, briskly walking her two dachshunds down the sidewalk. Rebecca noticed her stiff back as she power-walked the two dogs skittering happily in front of her. The woman turned slightly to glance at her, and Rebecca tensed up, hoping she didn’t have to force a greeting. She felt instant relief when the woman quickly looked away, obviously bored and uninterested at her arrival.

She’d hoped that more of her neighbors were like this woman, and if they wanted nothing to do with her, then they would just leave Rebecca alone. 

For anyone who wants to do this, please take the challenge!

Cheers,

H.K. Rowe

Excerpt Sunday – Killer Orange

From my final draft of my dark romantic comedy Killer Orange.


“Herb, look at your girl, she’s as white as a sheet,” he said, motioning to his brother, her father. “Don’t you let her play outside? She’s gonna get anemia if you keep her locked up indoors all the time.”

Rebecca froze, feeling strangely frightened as he put her on the spot.

“Leave her alone,” Herb replied with a dismissive wave. “Her skin is sensitive, just like her mother’s. Even the doctor said not to keep her in the sun for too long.” Her father took a swig of beer and tossed a Frisbee to her grandmother’s new Husky puppy.

Rebecca got up from her spot on the deck, wanting to join her dad with the dog. As she neared her uncle, he suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her next to him. She shrieked.

“Calm down, girlie, and sit with your uncle Bob,” he commanded her. “Sit in this sun and get some color.”

“I don’t want to, uncle. I want to play with the dog,” Rebecca whined, trying to get up.


He wouldn’t release his hold on her, which only served to frighten her more. She gritted her teeth as she gazed out, seeking any help she could find.

Her dad’s back was facing her, and he was too engrossed in the dog to pay attention. Her mother was inside napping, probably from too much sun, and her cousins had left to buy ice cream and play at the nearby park. Her grandmother was nowhere in sight either, probably in the house grabbing a refill in snacks.

She was alone with her uncle Bob, and she didn’t like how his rough tanned skin rubbed against her as he held her down beside him.

© HK Rowe 2015

Excerpt Sunday – Autumn Fire

From my Work in Progress Romance novel, Autumn Fire.


The dream shifted, and Sam was staring at Jon and Dori again in their kitchen, laughing and teasing each other. The sunlight seemed to drown them all in ethereal light, so bright that Sam could barely see Jon’s face. He saw Dori’s clearly, but not Jon’s.

He was heading out, beckoning Sam to come with him. When they’d gotten in the car, Sam could feel them driving – rolling through an endless tunnel of white light, cocooned in an unknown void. When the impact hit them, shattered glass littered around him, cutting through flesh and singing through the air. When he looked up, darkness killed the heavenly light, and Jon was slumped over in the driver’s seat, the metal fragment piercing his brain, spilling out his blood into the car and onto Sam. Sam could feel his own pain dulling when he’d seen his lifeless friend.

Over and over again he saw Jon die. The dreams, the memories, the fear played on an endless loop, trapping him in an amber web of his own terror, his own guilt that his young friend had died that day and some higher power had spared him.

Suddenly, he felt very wet, and he wondered if he was covered in blood, but instead, Sam was weeping, almost endlessly, the cries of horror and agony coming out in small whimpers, echoing through the black corridor as his friend laid lifeless beside him.

He couldn’t save him. Sam had saved him once from alcohol addiction. He’d saved him and helped him, and Jon had finally become a wonderful man – a soldier, a caretaker, and a loyal friend. Sam couldn’t save him from this. No matter how much the dream looped, Sam couldn’t save Jon from a fate like this.

He was gone. Jon was gone and Sam still couldn’t breathe or think the moment he realized his friend was gone, that he’d seen his death wedged in his mind like a cancer, haunting him and making him weep.

“Sam!”

He’d inhaled a sharp breath and his eyes opened in surprise. His cheeks were wet, and he turned to Dori, whose hands were on his shoulders, bringing him awake.

“You were crying,” Dori said. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you were sleeping.”

“No, it’s okay,” Sam said in a small, crackled voice.

“No, it’s not. Jesus Christ, Sam. Is this every night for you? These dreams about my brother?” she asked, and she slid next to him on the couch. Her thighs lightly grazed against his, and he felt stilled from the touch.

“Yes,” he answered her, unsure of how to feel about her closeness and worry. He’d always dealt with his demons alone, and he couldn’t burden her with knowing that her brother’s death had literally changed his life. And not for the better. He’d struggled every day with it, the memories, the trauma – and he couldn’t tell this sweet woman that her brother’s death had brought him so much struggle and pain.

© H.K. Rowe

Excerpt Sunday – Autumn Fire

It’s a little late in the day, but here it is! I had to tackle many things today but I finally found a moment to update. 🙂

From Autumn Fire, my 2014 NaNoWriMo novel ~


After her brother’s accident, Dori was plagued with dreams of him. He’d be facing her in a sunny field, and she couldn’t see his face. The sunlight was so bright she had to squint, but she knew he was smiling.

Jon was smiling and telling her that he loved her. She remembered the hug he forced on her before he’d left that day of the accident. She wished it burned in her like a tattoo. Only now it was a dull ache.

Sam, on the other hand, was in such a critical state that he’d never made it to Jon’s funeral. Maybe he had been there in spirit. The accident left him unconscious mostly, on medication and slowly healing from his injuries. He’d broken his legs, had several injuries to his ribs, and he’d been in surgery to repair his ruptured lung. He’d scraped his face in spots where he’d need surgery, and he’d broken his hand.

Many people came to Jon’s funeral. Not including her dad though. As usual, Dori and Jon’s father was still gone. Dori wondered if he’d show up at least to make peace with his son, to do one last good act as a father when he’d never been one to them before.

She at least wanted to see her dad’s new wife and family. She wondered if they were better then them. At least they were alive. One part of their remaining family was dead.

“The best part,” Dori said, and even though her brother had struggle with his alcohol addiction, he’d kicked it. It was thanks to Sam’s friendship of course, but Jon did most of the legwork. He worked harder than all of them to fight and defeat his demons.

He was going to be a brilliant soldier too, and protect and serve their country. He was truly a good man, and Dori felt it terrible and unfair he had to die like this in a car accident.

The driver who’d hit her brother’s car had shown up to the funeral. He looked haggard and unkempt. She didn’t know what he was doing here, but he never said a word to her or her mother. He looked over at them and averted his gaze. He’d walked up to her brother’s open casket, made the sign of the cross, and said a prayer.

©HK Rowe

Excerpt Sundays – Killer Orange

As promised, I’m sharing an excerpt from one of my current projects. Killer Orange is one of the closest projects of mine to publication. I’m in the editing stage right now and polishing up the last draft.

Here is an excerpt from one of the earliest chapters.


Sunshine Sands had once been a high-priced community where people bought plots of land and custom built their houses. After the housing market collapsed in 2008, communities like Sunshine Sands no longer held their initial luster. The community became desperate for buyers as housing prices fell and their richer residents abandoned their houses for better, bigger mansions. Sometimes owners rented out their houses, but Rebecca remembered the real estate agent sniffing her nose at the term renters and upon seeing Rebecca’s shock, had quickly moved the conversation forward.

“She really wanted to make a sale,” Rebecca muttered under her breath, when she suddenly realized she’d been talking to herself for a while in the car.

Shrugging inwardly, Rebecca surveyed the area outside the subdivision that was to become her new home. The reality of having her own home didn’t feel real to her yet, and she hoped she could learn to love this house like a favorite pair of jeans. The novelty of its newness excited her, and she hoped her neighbors were more pleasant than the beady-eyed, lip-curling rednecks of Oneco.

“They’d have to be. No one could be that bad,” she murmured with a chuckle, as the country music playlist ended and switched over to hard rock.

Anticipation filled her as she turned down Shasta Daisy Street and headed toward the sectioned off subdivision. Her phone’s GPS beeped and told her that she arrived at her destination. She pulled her Lumina onto the next small street, which immediately stopped her at some steel gates. There was a security guard on duty, and he glanced at her, looking inconvenienced from his copy of Fifty Shades of Grey as she waited for him to verify her ID and buzz her inside.

Rebecca handed him her crisp ID and her community pass, and when he looked at her, she felt like he was surveying her like a hungry bird. Rebecca shrank back instinctively at his steely stare. She met his annoyed expression, and her gaze drifted to his skin.

Gee, for an old guy, he sure is tan! she thought, and it almost sickened her as she pushed away the rising anxiety that was balling up in her stomach.

“So, you’re that new lady that purchased the Baker house on Ray Court.” He sniffed at her, unimpressed by her looks without even trying to get to know her. Rebecca hardly cared; she often received such reactions from strangers. Other than her striking pale skin and cherub face, she really didn’t have distinctive features that impressed anyone.

“Um… yeah, it’s the house where my aunt’s friend Kolee Baker lived. She found a great place on the coastline of Florida,” Rebecca replied. She beamed at him with a fake smile and shrugged. “This housing market, eh?”

The overly-tanned security guard nodded slowly, but his eyes seemed wary of her. He finally returned her ID and pass and buzzed her through. When Rebecca finally drove on, she let out a sigh that felt like a thistle had been stuck in her throat.

“What’s with the judgmental looks?” she mused aloud, and she almost wished she’d taken her friend Sophie up on her offer to move in with her. Sophie would’ve had the perfect snarky comment to put Rebecca at ease. Plus, Sophie would’ve truly scared the daylights out of the guard with her dark eye makeup and scary occult tattoos alone.

Even though Sophie lived on the south side of Chicago, Rebecca didn’t think she needed to bother her friend to come on a weekday and hold her hand while she moved into her new community. Sophie was busy enough with two jobs, and she had helped Rebecca plenty of times already when she’d been house hunting and visiting the area.

Rebecca took a deep breath and drove onward toward her house. She drummed up her internal resolve and encouraged herself to be strong. “I don’t need help from others all the time,” she reminded herself. “I have to learn to live this new life on my own. Without Matthew. Even without Sophie.”

© 2015 HK Rowe

Killer Orange Excerpt

This is the same excerpt that I posted to my Facebook today so apologies if you see this twice.

This is one of my favorite scenes from “Killer Orange” my new novella coming out at the end of August.

“Ah yes, nice to meet you. You’re the divorced artist,” he said, giving her a slight wink. His face seemed to radiate with a natural glow, and she couldn’t imagine he had an evil bone in his body. He seemed so good-natured and relaxed.

She frowned slightly at what he called her. “Wow, news gets around fast. I only talked to a few other neighbors this morning about such personal things.”

“OH!” he exclaimed shrilly, which for a second, almost made her wonder about his sexuality. His movements seemed exaggerated, and he looked rather upset he’d seemed to say such a thing so casually. “I am very sorry. I didn’t talk to any other neighbors. I’m just friends with Jill.”

“Jill?”

“Jill Highland, the lady who sold you the house,” he said with a too-bright smile.

“Oh! The real estate lady from ReMax. I see. That makes sense. She practically knows my social security number,” Rebecca mused, and she eyed Daniel suspiciously. “She didn’t tell you that, did she?”

Cheers,

H.K. Rowe