Thursday, May 31, 2012

Epic Thursday...

It's Epic Thursday again, and this week I am so excited to host Bethany Hagen!!!  She is a fellow WrAHM, and the author of the sweeping YA debut, LANDRY PARK, pitched as Gone with the Nuclear Wind, which will be released by Dial/Penguin in Fall of 2013.  (Photo Copyright Denise Overholt) 

Bethany Hagen was born and raised in Kansas City, where she lives with her husband and two children. When she's not writing or doing her librarian thing, she's drinking coffee or doing Chinese Kenpo Karate. Usually not at the same time.

You can find her blog here:
And her Twitter here: @bethany_hagen
And her Pinterest here:

Laundry Park description:
In a country ruled by the lavish Gentry, sixteen year old Madeline Landry dreams   of going off to the University to escape from the classmates who whisper behind her back, and from her parents, who want nothing more than to marry her off to save their debt-ridden estate. 

But when Madeleine spies the city's new golden boy David helping a Rootless girl in the park—in spite of the fact that the Rootless handle the nuclear charges that power the Gentry’s lifestyle and are considered worse than vermin-- all of her judgments and certainties about her place within the social elite are swept away. 

Soon, rumors of war and rebellion begin to swirl, with David Dana at the center. While the Rootless plot revolution and scandal rips across the Gentry, Madeline must decide between her duty and her desires, between her conscience and her ancestral destiny. 

And don't forget to stop by next week when I'm hosting Laura Rahimi Barnes (another wonderful WrAHM and writer of Middle Grade awesomeness)   You can visit her at Laura B Writer for her wisdom in Building Author Media Presence.

And now we have an excerpt from Bethany's trunked serial killer novel, The Cancer Empire.  We'll just call it The Epic Murder Most Foul...

The song ended and Gawain let the hand holding the microphone fall to his side. His eyes, almost preternaturally blue, almost purple, dazzling Chinese bellflowers in the dark. My arms slid around his neck and I pulled him close. Why the hell couldn’t I feel for Gawain what I did for Noel? He certainly deserved it more. 
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” 
Our lips met and the microphone dropped to the ground as the people in the bar whistled and applauded. I could smell everything, hear everything, but it blended together in dizzy swirls, Gawain’s mouth on mine the only thing connecting one moment to the next. 
Somebody kicked on the music and the band members moved back down to the bar. In half a second, my mind was made up. I broke away and moved toward the bathroom. I looked back over my shoulder suggestively. With a groan, Gawain followed. 
We were barely in the door, I hadn’t even turned on the light, before I was seized and set on the sink. My legs instinctively wrapped around his body, and he kissed my neck and ear, hands running along the stays of my corset, gently tugging them loose. 
“I never told you thanks,” I said breathlessly. 
“For what?”  
My corset began to fall away from my back. I could barely concentrate. “… The rose you left me?” 
He looked at me and cocked his head. “I didn’t leave you a rose.” 
This struck me as odd, but then, my heart leapt—it must have been Noel. Gawain didn’t give me time to consider this, his mouth was on mine again and my corset completely undone, and only a cheap strapless bra to separate my skin from his. I could feel the music throbbing through the sink, the mirror cold against my almost naked back, the vibrations in my spine stinging from my hair to my boots. I found myself kissing in time to the music, and to the time of the flashing lights coming in from the door that never shut all the way. 
“I love you,” he murmured into my ear.  
Is now the time? His hips were grinding against me, and I was drunk, making out topless in a bar bathroom, and I knew I should answer back— The bathroom flickered as the door creaked open and in the flash of light, I saw Gawain’s eyes, elfishly brilliant. Then a flash of silver and sickening sound of puncture. 
The strobe like was like lightening, the knife thunder, and all I could see was bright red and a figure in black. Gawain’s hands clutched convulsively around my arms, and, as I screamed, the knife came through his throat from the back, shredding the voice that had sang me to sleep for eleven years. A grisly gargling noise came from Gawain as he breathed through the blood and metal lodged in his throat, and he toppled, hands still gripping mine. I fell with him, temporarily tangled with the still warm limbs, my face pressed against the bloody collarbone.
I scrambled and I heard people outside coming to the door, which had been closed and locked behind this intruder. My boots slipped in the blood and I fell to my knees, trying desperately to get away from the figure in black. I looked up, Gawain’s blood dripping off my face, I could taste it; I beheld the incarnation of every fear I hitherto given thought to. 
Paltry moonlight filtered in through the grimy window, and in the few seconds between my falling and Danny breaking open the door in a fit of bar-tending glory, I saw a figure clad in soft black—tuxedo pants and a clingy, expensive looking turtleneck, black leather gloves that gleamed softly in the dark. Even his face was masked, a silky black hood the draped elegantly down around his neck and shoulders. 
The figure held out its hand, impatiently beckoning, but then the door splintered open. He moved with a serrated quickness; in a few seconds work, he was in the window, and with one last look at me, he stole from the bathroom like a cat. I sucked in a breath to scream, breathed in the tang of Gawain’s blood, and retched. Danny found me on my knees in a hell that was somewhere between retching and screaming.

And don't forget, it's never too late to volunteer some of your own Epic writings.  Contact me at

Friday, May 25, 2012

Friday Funny...

Ok so I've never seen this video before, and we know how I LOVE Ellen, so this is surprising.  Well I happened to be visiting Megan Whitmer's blog Find Joy in the Journey, and I came across this video of Kristen Bell.

Kristen Bell has a HUGE obsession with sloths, and she's telling Ellen about it… and I'm going to give you fair warning that this video is hilarious. I literally had tears streaming down my face from laughing so hard!  I hope you enjoy it too!

Want to keep laughing? Then check out my fellow WrAHM's.

1.  Melissa Brady King's post, Suddenly, I Was Drunk: A Writer's Drinking Game for Self-Editing.

2. Bethany Hagen's post for the The Lucky 13's

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Epic Thursday...

Yay, it's Epic Thursday again! This week I'm hosting Angela Parkhurst. (CP of awesomeness, creator of Wolf, and the baby of our group) Visit her at

Don't forget to come back next week when I'm hosting Bethany Hagen (WrAHM and Twenty-five-year old librarian who wrote a  sweeping YA debut, LANDRY PARK, pitched as “Gone with the Nuclear Wind,” to Nancy Conescu at Dial, in a major deal, in a pre-empt, for three books, by Mollie Glick at Foundry Literary + Media (NA).) Visit her at

Now without further ado, Angela's Epic Wolf Scene. (SIGH)

The wings of the snowflies glistened in the pale sunlight, dancing above the frozen pond like pixies. Peering over my shoulder, Wolf stared off into the forest. The trees white with snow and ice, went on forever, showing no signs of ending. I wasn’t even sure which direction we came from, let alone how to get back to the castle.
“You must know the woods well to get here and back every winter.”
“I’m a hunter. I’d be useless otherwise.” Wolf refused to make eye contact. Tension built in my shoulders, knowing it would wash away the second he smiled. But a smile from him now was like waiting for rain in a drought. Hopeless.
“Dad took me hunting once. I didn’t have trouble using a bow but couldn’t master the wilderness part.” Camping, knowing where the wind drifted, and predicting the shift. Dad did everything so well, especially hunting. I had no doubt he’d survive in the wild on his own. While I mastered the art of self defense and weaponry, I didn’t have it in me to skin innocent animals.
“You need to learn. The council will go through great lengths to categorize you.” Wolf told me.
I shook my head. “Not if I leave.” Leaving solved all my problems, well, most of them.
“Even if you ran, the council would find you, probably even kill you for disobeying.”
A soft breeze tousled Wolf’s wavy dark hair. The muscle in his cheek jumped after he pushed a thick strand behind his ear. Despite the warnings, the threat of the council never fazed me, then again, I never let myself think too much about them.
“I doubt the council has any real interest in me.” Even as the words slipped out, I knew they were a lie.
Wolf scoffed. “The girl the quill failed to categorize? Yes, I’m sure you’re not on their radar at all.” As much as I hated to admit, Wolf was right. Gold and crimson streaked his honey irises, warming me from the inside out.
“Now that you’re here, now that they know you exist, you’ll never be free again. Ever.” He swallowed, and for a moment, anger and resentment flickered across his face. “We’re prisoners to our books, our fates planned long before we were born.”
“Even if this is real. Even if everyone is a storybook character, that doesn’t make you any less human.” My hand found his, tracing the rough patches of skin over his knuckles. “You are the author of your own fate. Your destiny is in your hands, not theirs.”
Wolf said nothing, but stared at me, as he had on the first day we met. Like I was a puzzle he desperately wanted to figure out. Doubt darkened his features, wiping away the spunk I loved so much. I hated seeing him this way—weak, vulnerable, tortured. A far cry from the boy who barked snarky, sarcastic remarks every two seconds.
He tugged his hand from mine, leaving me empty and alone. “Maybe if I were someone else, anyone else, I’d believe that. But I’m a wolf, Norah. A killer who gets killed. A creature destined to die alone. No matter what I want, no matter what fantasies I dream up, the truth will always be there.”
His words were like a hard slap. My throat tightened, chills raced across my body. Suddenly his behavior since the rumor made sense. “That’s why you’re avoiding me, isn’t it?” I wasn’t naïve enough to think Wolf didn’t like me—like really, really like me. He did more than I knew. I liked him too, a lot. I just wasn’t sure what my feelings meant yet.
“Thinking I could ever have you was unrealistic.” His voice was void of emotion. “You can fight fate all you want, but everyone knows the truth, even without classification. You and I…we make no sense.”
“Yes we do!” Desperation rattled me to the core. I couldn’t lose him. Not now, not ever. “You were the first real friend I had here. No pretenses, no façade, no lies. You were always truthful. Now you want to throw that away because of some tragic future that may or may not be true?”
Wolf stared at me, his irises were much darker than I was used to, haunting almost.
“Yes.” His jaw tightened, matching the sudden jarring of my body as he moved closer to me, closing the small space between us. His hand cupped my chin and tilted my face up. “Because friends? Friends can’t do this.”
Like a soft whisper, his lips brushed against mine. A breath caught in my throat, taken back by the gentleness of his kiss. It lacked the urgency of our past kisses. Warmth rose through my body at a rate I barely recognized. I sank into him, my hands clutched onto the material of his duster, soaking in the lines of his solid muscles. Before I was able to drift away, he pulled back, leaving me breathless and begging for more.
“What you feel for me…” His callused thumb trailed over my frostbitten cheek. “It isn’t real. It can’t be.”
Wolf was my friend, my best friend. And no one, not even the wicked, wanted to lose their best friend.   

And don't forget, it's never too late to volunteer some of your own Epic writings.  Contact me at

Monday, May 21, 2012

Bloodrose Winner and New Giveaway...

Congratulations to brookea_2006 (you should have received an email from me) for winning the hardcover copy of Bloodrose by Andrea Cremer! 

For my newest Giveaway (which will run for 2 weeks again this cycle) we have Looking for Alaska by John Green! I absolutely loved this book, it was funny and insightful and heartbreaking and brilliant. My only hope is that you love it just as much as I did!

You can follow John Green at or on twitter  @realjohngreen  

before. Miles "Pudge" Halter is done with his safe life at home.  His whole existence has been one big nonevent, and his obsession with famous last words has only made him crave the "Great Perhaps" [Francois Rabelais, poet] even more. He heads of to the sometimes crazy, possibly unstable, and anything-but-boing world of Culver Creek Boarding School, and his life becomes the opposite of safe. Because down the hall is Alaska Young.  The gorgeous, clever, funny, sexy, self-destructive, screwed-up, and utterly fascinating Alaska Young, who is an event unto herself.  She pulls Pudge into her world, launches him into the Great Perhaps, and steals his heart.

after. Nothing is ever the same. 

Same rules apply, You must be at least 18 to enter (13+ with parental permission) and have a U.S. shipping address.

Ways to Enter

+1 for agreeing to the terms and agreements
+5 for leaving a blog comment

+5 for tweeting about the giveaway (you can also earn additional entries by tweeting every day.)

+5 for following me on twitter @amberafterglow

+10 for following my blog (or for already following)

+25 for linking this giveaway to your blog

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Epic Thursday...

Yay, it's Epic Thursday again! This week I'm hosting Elizabeth Otto. (CP and writer of epic hotness personified) Visit her at Elizabeth Otto Writes.

Don't forget to come back next week when I'm hosting Angela Parkhurst (CP, creator of Wolf, and the baby of our group) You can visit her at

Now without further ado, Lisa's Epic blood scene.

Jayda looked at her pricked finger and the well of blood bubbled there. She moved to wipe it away when Ben grabbed her hand. He ran his fingers over hers, straightening her bloody finger and pressing upward with gentle pressure. The blood droplet swelled, its unusual makeup glimmering like a beacon. Ben’s expression darkened. His eyes were halting and unbridled as he looked from the blood to her lips. Jayda’s back went rigid as that murky gaze racked her face. She shivered. She knew what he was thinking.

He wanted her blood. The Blood of Aset.
A thrill of wicked anticipation replaced any inclination to feel repulsed. There was no hesitation; just a fractured longing for Ben to release what his quivering body was hiding. Power emanated from the heat of him, tension filling each beat of his heart. She could feel an awesome radiation of strength and control as his hand clamped more deeply over hers.
Ben brought Jayda’s hand to his face while he seamlessly walked her back against the desk. The worn mahogany pressed into her body, trapping her. Ben’s legs collided warm and hard against the front of her thighs. She leaned back, a fluid dance as Ben leaned forward over her, his eyes pressing into her soul as he brought her bloody finger to his lips. Her breath was a ragged gasp of encouragement when his lips parted slightly. Her body tensed in delicious anticipation, the ecstatic weight of wanting halting her breath and rooting a shudder deep in her belly. The tip of his tongue flickered alongside her finger, gracing the skin but not taking the blood. She sighed in disdain as the droplet ran down, settling in a little pool between her fingers.
“You want it.” Jayda gasped as Ben’s tongue traced the length of her finger, following the blood but not tasting it. A deep rumble broke from his throat when she breathed, “take it!”
Ben pressed her body back farther, her back arching against him, chest to chest. The length of her hair billowed out behind her. Ben entwined his fingers with hers, her blood slicking between their hands as his other palm grabbed the back of her head, twining in the freefall of hair, bringing her lips a whisper from his with a gentle fury.
“I want this more,” His teeth grazed her bottom lip before his lips sank into hers, drinking the urgent gasp that escaped her mouth. She slipped her free hand between them, sliding her palm over the strong line of his jaw and cheek, her fingers snaking possessively into the silk of his hair…pulling him in closer, deeper…

And don't forget, it's never to late to volunteer some of your own Epic writings.  Contact me at

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Epic Thursday...

Yay, it's Epic Thursday again!  This week I'm hosting the amazing Tristina Wright (CP of awesomeness, and unofficial leader of our small gang of misfits)  You can find Tristina at

Also, don't forget to come back next week when I'm hosting Elizabeth Otto. (CP and writer of epic hotness personified) Visit her at Elizabeth Otto Writes.  

Now without further ado here is, as our small gang of misfit CP's have begun to call it, her Epic Olive Grove scene.

She stopped in a small clearing between two sections of olive trees. Her eyes were still dark when she turned to me, her face tight.

I fidgeted with my tongue barbell for a silent moment. "Please tell me what I did to upset you. I'm really bad at guessing and don't want to make you even angrier at me."

Her features softened only a little. "Why didn't you tell me about your dream? And why were you so rude to the Gorgons?"

"I didn't want to frighten you. And the Gorgons piss me off with their riddles and nonsense. If this prophecy is as big as it seems like it is and our lives or whatever are dependent on it, then you'd think they'd be a little more forthcoming with some concrete details." I folded my arms.

"That's just the way they are."

"Yeah, and segregation is just the way it is. Doesn't make it right." I snapped.

She sucked in a breath. Her eyes flashed in the moonlight and I was reminded of the torchlight again. "So being rude to them was your way of taking charge? How do you know we couldn't have figured it out?"

"Was any of that making sense to you?"

She looked away. "Some of it. Maybe."

I ground my teeth together until my jaws hurt. I had no idea what she wanted from me or, really, what I'd done wrong. So I'd mouthed off to the Gorgons. Big. Deal. A twinge ran up my leg and I shifted my weight, trying to delay the inevitable need to sit. In my current mood, the state of my leg irritated me more than usual. How on the gods' green earth was I supposed to "lead a war" or "take a journey" with a twisted leg? I raked a hand through my hair and blew out a breath.

"Do you need to sit?" Her soft voice broke through.

"No." I refused to look at her. I didn't want to see her pity.

"Lucas." Her hand slid onto my arm. The warmth burned through my coat.

"I said I'm fine." I moved away from her, trying in vain to mask the limp. The pain steadily grew, pulsing along the bone, far too deep to massage it. I closed my eyes against it, putting as much weight on my other leg as I could.

"Then come sit with me."

I turned, something in me softening when I saw her. She'd spread my cloak on the ground and was sitting on it. Her dress was white and clung to her in all the right places, the skirt fanning around her like a blanket of snow. Her skin looked so dark against it. Her lips twitched and I realized I'd been staring and not breathing. I limped over to her, the pain stabbing up into my hip as I lowered myself to the ground. I leaned against a tree trunk, relieved to be sitting but still irritated she had to see me like that.

"It doesn't bother me." Her voice was soft.

"I know."

Her fingers slipped under my chin and I allowed their gentle pressure to turn my face to hers. Before she could say anything, I captured her hand and kissed the fingertips one by one. I didn't want to talk about my leg. I didn't want to think about my leg. I kissed the center of her palm and slid my fingers between hers. "Tell me what you think the Gorgons meant…please."

The look on her face betrayed concern but she nodded and tightened her hold on my hand and pulled it into her lap. She traced the tendons on the back of my hand, her fingers leaving trails of warmth across my skin. Her simple touch soothed me more than any healer could.

"Did they speak in your head first?"

I nodded. "Lots of stuff about carrying weight and if I'm strong enough."

"Did they…" She chewed on her bottom lip. "Mention anything about a murder?"

My heart skipped a beat. "Not in those words. They, um, asked if I was strong enough to…" My voice faltered. I rubbed the soreness in my leg as a distraction. "To take a life if it meant saving another." I looked at her. She was pale, her eyes wide. "What? What did they tell you?"

She took a shuddering breath. "That my life would hang in the balance and would be tipped by the choice of another."

My blood turned to ice. I reached for her, folding her into my arms. "I will never let anything happen to you."

"You can't make that promise."

"I can sure as Hades try." I tilted her face up to mine. "I would do whatever it took to keep you safe."

"Even kill someone?"

"Yes." I answered without hesitation, but my insides twisted into knots at the thought. I was trained in combat; I was one of the best fighters at the University. But that was classroom simulations and heavily monitored sessions. To actually be responsible for ending the life of another…

But looking at Pandora now—the way her eyes searched mine for any hint that I might be wavering—I knew I'd do it. Losing her wasn't something I wanted to think about.


I cleared my throat. "What about what they said to both of us?"

She settled into my arms, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "I think we were meant to be together. I mean, I think we still have a choice about whether or not we are together but I don't think us meeting was an accident."

I nodded against the top of her head. "The part about war bugs me."

She laughed. "I gathered that."

"I'm sorry I lost it a little with them. I just don't like being jerked around. And this whole thing seems so…"

"Big." She finished quietly.


"Do you regret choosing me?" She pulled back to look at me. Her eyes were smoky—somewhere between charcoal and silver.

I frowned at her. "Not at all. Why would I? Do you?"

She shook her head. "No, I just…wondered."

"Hey…" I cupped her cheek and kissed her. "I love you and that hasn't changed. I couldn't leave you if I tried. You're inside me now. It would be like ripping out a part of me."

I didn't even see her move. One moment she was watching me, the next, her mouth was on mine and her arms were around my neck. Relief flowed through her kiss, stunning me. Had she been worried I would leave because of this? That I would abandon her? Guilt welled up. My arms slid around her waist and I pulled her against me, kissing her with everything I had. I never wanted her to doubt me again. I pulled away just enough to speak, sharing her breath, our lips brushing lightly. "Dance with me."

"What?" Laughter tinged her voice.

"You heard me."

"But your leg—"

"Is fine. Please." I stood, grasping her elbows and bringing her with me. My leg twinged as I put weight on it but it would hold. Grinning at the amused expression on her face, I pulled her against me and we began to dance. I hummed the same tune as the masquerade, closing my eyes as she nestled against me. The stress dripped out of us while we moved. Just like that night, the whole world tunneled to only this girl in my arms except, now, I was in love with her. Our futures were intertwined, heading down a path no one could really see, but one that could change everything. The prospect was thrilling and frightening.



"That night at the masquerade…if I'd kissed you…" I didn't know how to finish.

She raised her head, her eyes a bright silver. "I would have kissed you back."

I grasped her hand and spun her away from me and, just like that night, when she spun back, her back pressed against me. My hands roamed and my lips found her neck. I kissed the pulse as it thrummed under her soft skin. "We may have caused quite a scene." I kissed the soft spot under her ear.

"Oh, really?" I heard a hint of a challenge in her voice. Energy spiked—mine and the remnants of hers—which sent my blood into a wicked boil. I grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head, spinning her to face me. At the same time, I maneuvered us against one of the ancient olive trees, its twisted trunk scraping toward the night sky. Holding her hands behind her, I pinned her against the trunk and grinned at her. She grinned right back, her eyes narrowing.

I leaned over, brushing my lips across hers as lightly as I could manage. She leaned to me but I pulled away. I repeated the barely-there kisses along her jaw and down her neck, moving away when she'd arch to me. She moaned in frustration, her arms pulling against my grip. "Dammit, Lucas…"

"Yes?" I forced as much nonchalance into my voice even though my hands itched to run over her body. A maelstrom of energy whipped through me.

"Please…" Her body trembled and heated.

I touched the tip of my tongue to the soft spot in her collarbone. "Please what?" I brushed my lips up the other side of her neck to her ear, grazing the earlobe with my teeth.

She sucked in a breath. One of her legs partly curled around mine and was pulling against me. "If you don't really kiss me right now, I'm going to turn into a ball of fire and that will suck for you."

The thick desire in her voice was more than I could handle. With a growl, my mouth covered hers and I kissed her. Possessively. Thoroughly. I released her wrists, my hands tangling in her hair and holding her against me. Her hands wound around my waist, sliding under my shirt, her nails raking across the skin of my back. Waves of heat crashed into my body while spirals of my own energy bled into hers. She made a little sound of protest when I pulled away from her swollen lips. I buried my face in her neck, kissing, tasting, grazing my teeth against her skin. Her fingers dug so deeply into my skin I knew she drew blood. But I didn't care. All I cared about was the little feminine noises she made when I pressed against her. All I cared about was her breath coming out in pants while I kissed her throat.

Her hand slid into my hair and cupped the back of my head as I kissed down to her shoulder. She inhaled sharply, her entire body going rigid. I was about to ask if I'd done something wrong or hurt her when her trembling voice cut through. "Oh gods…Lucas."

I raised my head, my throat going dry at the look of terror on her face as she stared at something over my shoulder.

And don't forget, it's never to late to volunteer some of your own Epic writings.  Contact me at

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

I Have Written ALL THE WORDS...

On Tuesday, May 8th at 12:23 am,  I officially finished The Beast.  It currently weighs in at 86,971 words and 349 pages.  

1. First and foremost I need to thank three special people, who love me almost as much as I love them! 
a. The Hubs: who watched the boys and kept them out of my hair.  Who let me stay up all night, and sleep in late.
b. My Mom: who countless times took the boys overnight to give me ample writing time during daytime hours! (say what)
c. My Sister: because let's be honest there wouldn't be a Fiona without you. You sat with me at Barnes & Noble for hours, just so I wouldn't have to sit alone.

2. This was accomplished with the help of Florence + The Machine.  I will always and forever bow to her awesomeness.

3. The ever wonderful Carrie Bastyr, knowing that I was two pages away from finishing, continuously harassed me via Twitter, Facebook, Texting, and Smoke Signals (ok the last one was a joke, but come on) She spurred me on, forcing me to (out of sheer determination to shut her up) finally finish typing those last excruciating words. 

4. I may or may not have posted, "I have written ALL THE WORDS" on our CP facebook page, just to see how long it would take them to respond.

5. It may or may not have taken 53 seconds (Tristina Wright) 2 minutes (Heather Gryphus)

6. Truth. I made one CP cry (cough Carrie cough) and two almost cry (cough Tristina & Heather)

7. Carrie may or may not have rubbed it their faces that she got to read it first.

8. I may or may not have gotten the following responses:
a. oh my god.... I... oh my god…. (T)
b. ‎*gapes at last page* *tries to form words* *fails* (T) 
c. Like is such a weak word. More like "holy effing crap  I love this" (T)(feel at this time that I need to mention that response had been edited for language content…lol) 
d.  Im gonna throw up (H)
f.  I want the beginning of the 2nd book right now (H)
g. Because seriously, NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO. HELL NO. (T)
h. it was friggin beautiful but I am so depressed (H)
i.  I was hysterical with those last words (Carrie) (would like to note that this entire time C has been sobbing…just kidding or am I)
j.   It's a beautiful story. If it doesn't get published I'll go homicidal. (T)
k.  Well, you get the drift…

9. Truth. I have seriously lucked into the most talented group of girls ever!  I just need to thank our small gang of awesomeness for believing in me.  Their encouragement and enthusiasm, made me fall back into love with this story!  They also refused to let me give up, and I literally owe my sanity to them.  So from me to you girls, I love you with all of my heart! 

Oh and don't forget to stop by Carrie's blog at Where I Get Wordy for her newest giveaway.  It may just include, Insurgent, a preorder of Crewel, and an autographed copy of The Handmaid's Tale