The Sordid Promise by Courtney Lane #authorcorner


Title: The Sordid Promise
Author: Courtney Lane
Genre: Erotic Suspense/Psychological Thriller
Publication Date: March 26, 2014


Warning: Contains graphic language, frequent graphic sex, disturbing violence, and very dark themes.

When physical pain allows you to escape your reality; what do you do when the pain is no longer strong enough to quiet the emotional ache?

Diouana “Nikki” returned to her hometown six months ago to tend to her sick mother. She thought she’d left her “baggage” behind her on the opposite coast, only to find that it never left her side. As her self-destructive thoughts begin to consume her, her mother — realizing Nikki’s torment — pushes Nikki to complete her last wishes.

Eric Brenton, Nikki’s new neighbor, lives in a dark, chaotic world that is easily hidden behind his model good looks and cocky demeanor. Unapologetic about his dirtier intentions, he sets his sights on Nikki with an offer to help her. But his help comes with very unorthodox conditions and a huge price.

And Eric…comes with an extensive black box warning label.



I’ve been creating my own little world since I was very young. When I was eight years old, I began to bring those worlds to life with pen and paper.

While I write across genres (I find it hard to stick to one genre), I do have an archetype when it comes to the female protagonist — they have to have certain type of strength, strong convictions, and layered personalities. There will often be a lot of darkness and depth to my stories, but I don’t see the point in writing vapid characters who are thrust into “safe” situations.

Writing Science Fiction/Fantasy is my first love. If there is one thing for sure, I’m a bit of a misfit when it comes to Romance. I prefer my romances dark. The elements that will be common in my stories are: depth, controversy, and misfit characters.




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Biphobic #HAHAT

Howdy! Today is the Hop Against Homophobia and Transphobia! It’s hard to imagine that I signed up for this hop ages ago, and it’s finally here! If you didn’t know, today is actually the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia! Go figure.

You can check out their website here:

HAHAT 2014

I can’t wait to share with you today. This is something special on my heart. Not only do I write in the LGBT genre and have characters who are LGBT, but I also claim to be part of that rainbow community. And what a fantastical community it is. The LGBT et al community is one of the most rewarding and supportive communities I’ve ever been in. And I’m proud to be a member, for the most part.

I’m part of this community because I’m bisexual, which is what I want to talk about today. I know many bisexuals and the high majority of them have experienced something similar to what I’m going to talk about. Phobia of the “one who can’t decide.”

I’ve been in and out of the family since I was fourteen. I didn’t come out to immediate family until I was eighteen but that didn’t matter. They were supportive and there was no pushback from them at all. What did matter was the GLT friends I had…that’s where I experienced the most pushback.

Perhaps it’s just because people don’t understand bisexuality. Perhaps people don’t understand that there is more than just the L and the G in that fancy smacy little acronym. But experiencing a phobia from the very group that we’re supposed to be a part of is not the most ideal. It’s like being rejected at every single turn. There is no safe place to just be ourselves. There is no acceptance.

When I was in college, I was continuously told that I just needed to choose whether I was going to be lesbian or straight. It pissed me off. Downright angered me to the point where I refused to hang out with gay/lesbian friends and I refused to participate in any LGBT “friendly” group. How often have I heard that it’s not a choice from them? Yet they never afforded me the same opportunity! It seemed so contradictory to what they were saying, as though they had the same bias against bisexuals as certain straight people had against them.

When I entered my Master’s program, I was told that I wasn’t bisexual. Like really? Who’s going to tell me my sexuality? But they did. Over and over again I was told that I was pansexual or omnisexual because I didn’t discriminate against those outside of the male/female spectrum. It frustrated me to no end. No end because clearly being bisexual was still considered a “bad” thing, something which no one understood and something which people feared.

We break the binary. We break the nice, neat little lines that have been created for years. It isn’t a matter of one of the other, it’s a matter of both or all. It’s a matter of having something which no one else can have. There isn’t black or white, male or female. There’s red, brown, yellow, gold, silver, pink, camo all combined into one piece of a world that is so wonderfully bright.

So why is it that we as bisexuals feel phobic tendencies from inside the group and from outside? Because we simply don’t follow the “natural order” of things. We’re not binary, and we mess up the binary lines that we’ve been taught for centuries.

So what? So break out of that box a little bit and see that phobias and discriminations that are happening in your own back yard. See the stereotypes we create for people all over the spectrum and try to put a stop to them. Change your mind on something. Change the way you talk about bisexuals. Change the way phobias are continued. Just change.


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If you’d like to enter to win some awesome prizes, click the link above. There are 4 books in the print book package from three different authors. All you have to do is like the FB pages. I will contact the winner once the winner has been chosen (it’s a random thing, I don’t handpick winners =P) The giveaway ends on May 27th, so the winner will be contacted within 1 week after.

Want to learn more about the Blog Hop Against Homophobia and Transphobia? Check out their website here:


And please check out all the other wonderful posts in this blog hop!

Paper Cups by Diane Rinella #authorcorner

In Scary Modsters… and Creepy Freaks, rock star Peter Lane closes eyes in 1968 and reopens them in 2014. He expects to see positive changes. Instead, he sees the world in even more turmoil than when he left it. Peter’s discoveries changed me, and I can no longer turn a blind eye to the world’s problems for they are my problems too. This week I have asked authors and bloggers to post about ways to improve the world, whether it is about a charity that needs attention, how a smile can turn a mood around, or how we can all help save the planet.


I’d like to thank Adrian for allowing me to guest post today. I’d also like to thank you for taking time to read this. I hope you will find inspiration.


Oh, and about this giveaway. There is a second donation to be made, if you help me. I’ve decided to donate my promo budget to charity. For every 500 entries I will donate $5 to The Autism Society Of America. There is a cap on this donation of $20, which is the amount I had set aside for promotion on social media. So please enter and make me spend my money!


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For every 500 entries The Autism Society of America receives $5. Maximum of this donation is $20.
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A Heavy Realization


Diane Rinella


I’m guilty.

I’m guilty of something I should know better than to do, and I am doing it as I type this.

It’s Tuesday afternoon, and as per ritual I am sitting in a coffee shop and writing. Also, as per usual, I am drinking out of a paper cup. I have four travel cups and five metal water bottles at my house that is not two blocks from here, yet I have two paper cups sitting next to me; one with coffee, the other with water. I’m resolving, as I type this, to break this habit by educating myself. Ready to join me?

I’m turning to one of my favorite websites for information.


  • The manufacturing of one paper cup produces .24 pounds of CO2 emissions. (Seriously? My God, this is nearly half a pound of CO2 emissions in front of me, and I am just one person in this café that serves hundreds per day. Hold on…

Okay, I just talked to the café manager who told me this tiny place, despite the fact that they also use ceramic cups, uses 500 paper cups per week. That’s 120 POUNDS of CO2 emissions just from the paper cups PER WEEK. Dear Lord, how many does Starbucks use?)

  • Using one paper cup per day generates 23 pounds of waste per year. (Yep, this hole in the wall is using 500 cups per week, times 52 weeks in a year, divided by 364 days, times 23, equals 1,638 pounds of trash per year JUST FROM PAPER CUPS!)
  • Now let’s add in this little gem; “In order to make bright white paper plates, the pulp resulting from wood fibers must be bleached with chlorine compounds, one of the most hazardous industrial chemicals to use. According to Catalina Logan at, these chemicals are “known cancer-causing agents, and are also suspected of causing developmental, reproductive, and immune system damage in living organisms including humans.”


I’m pretty sure that from now on I’m going to remember to bring my travel mug. I’ve also set a reminder to go off thirty minutes before I leave each day to take it with me. Lesson learned.



Scary Modsters… and Creepy Freaks

A fantastical romance involving a girl, the music that fuels her, and her Ouija board.

Rosalyn possesses a sunny personality that is laced with quirks. Although she seeks acceptance in a world where she lives out of time, what she gets is ridiculed for her eclectic wardrobe and unconventional music collection.

One fateful night, Rosalyn bewitches Niles, a stylish man whose offbeat character perfectly complements her own. Unfortunately, he possesses a critical flaw that means relationship suicide for him and pretty much anyone.

While under the influence of insomnia-impaired judgment, Rosalyn summons Rock ‘n Roll deity Peter Lane back from the dead. Not only does he spin her hormones into a frenzy, Peter is also the precarious puzzle piece that brings sense into her world. When Niles learns that he can overcome his life-long challenge by helping Peter avenge his death, how far will he go to secure Rosalyn’s heart?


DRinellaAuthorAuthor Bio

Enjoying San Francisco as a backdrop, the ghosts in Diane’s 150-year old Victorian home augment the chorus in her head. With insomnia as their catalyst, these voices have become multifarious characters that haunt her well into the sun’s crowning hours, refusing to let go until they have manipulated her into succumbing to their whims. Her experiences as an actress, business owner, artisan cake designer, software project manager, Internet radio disc jockey, vintage rock n’ roll journalist/fangirl, and lover of dark and quirky personalities influence her idiosyncratic writing.








Once home, it was straight to the family room stereo to listen to The Stones and crack a beer while dancing to Exile On Main Street. I had to shove aside stacks of albums that I had taken out of the oversized, shutter-door closet the night before for reorganizing. With the signed album propped on the sofa, as if it were an audience, I shed my alter ego by ripping off my tailored suit coat. The liberation of no longer feeling dressed for a corporate costume party brought me back to life. The flick of my neck with each shoulder roll sent my deep-auburn, iron-pressed locks flying. My hips ground while I stared at the record. I kicked my stilettos across the room (nearly landing them in the stone fireplace) before shimmying out of my skirt. My butt plopped onto the sofa with me wearing nothing but my blouse and panties. The man on the album with the engaging eyes pulled my attention to him. “Who are you?”

From my cell phone I typed Deep Trance into Wikipedia before taking a swig of beer. As the details appeared the malty liquid was nearly sprayed out of my mouth before being choked back. Clearly Rob, the shop’s owner, had no clue as to the value of the album. Easily it was worth six hundred, not the six I thought I foolishly paid.

Deep Trance was the third album by the legendary band Love Machine and marked a departure from their usual pop sound. The album lacked label support causing some to believe it was intended to fail in order to offset the financial gains of other bands. The original cover was to depict the band behind an opaque veil of psychedelic swirls, but management rejected it, claiming that the photo made the band unrecognizable. A test run of the rejected cover produced a handful of copies that were likely destroyed.

Love Machine! “Holy St. Elvis!” The infamous, chart topping, UK band that barely caught a break in America? That had to mean—

I grabbed the album while still a little dizzy from my revelation. “This is signed by Peter Lane!” In a grand master flash I was standing on the sofa, bouncing and squealing at the top of my lungs, “Oh, my God, Peter Lane! Peter freaking Lane!” It was a proud fangirl moment—the flipping out over the scribbling of a dead legend that sat in my hands. My only embarrassment was over how I ever missed who the guy was. Thankfully Rob missed it too. With a jump I flipped my legs out from under me and landed my butt on the sofa. “Well, Peter Lane, I certainly never expected to meet you, such as it is.”

My deep-brown eyes were more drawn into the image than ever. Peter’s impish gaze seemed so deep and powerful. His eyes were now a solid black, and my mind started slipping into their void while a haze clouded my peripheral vision.

The sudden screech blaring from my phone brought my hand to my heart and snapped me back into the present. One Direction blasted through the air, clashing with The Stones. Darla was calling. Sometimes my friends’ taste in music scares me.

“Hey,” I answered. My voice sounded oddly detached.

“Drinks! Twenty minutes! Mulligan’s! Meet us there!” came screaming into my ear.

“What happened to being too tired?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. I just got a burst of energy. Must mean we are not meant to be at home tonight. Get on it!”

WIPpet Wednesday!!! January 8, 2014

Whew! it’s been a long time since I’ve been around for this. Through struggling with depression and three trips last month, and advent at church and reading for a one week intensive course of which I’m currently taking, it’s no wonder I didn’t get ANY writing or editing done! But now I’m back!

I mentioned the class I’m taking. It’s really an intensive course. Try smashing one whole semester into a week and then having the topic we’re studying be very emotional. We’re talking about war and moral injury. I bring this up all for a reason, so bear with me. Moral injury is the type of injury an individual receives when their moral codes are forced to be broken. This is often seen in the military with soldiers who are forced to kill (adults, women or children), forced to participate in prisoner abuse, forced to participate in a war they don’t think is just, and those who feel betrayed by their government. It’s a conflict of conscience.

My end of the “year” project for this class, my final basically, has to do with moral injury, but we’re allowed to be very creative with it. Since I worked alongside the Pierce County Sheriff’s Department and because I have an affinity for police officers and writing them, I have decided to write a short novella. This means that my WIPpet Wednesday’s will consist of this novella that I’m working on. I have until the beginning of March to come up and write the first draft of this piece. It’s going to be outside my norm, and it’s going to be focused on a male officer experiencing moral injury and the recovery process necessary to feel as though one is human again.

Since I’m smack dab in the middle of this insane course right now, I’m just going to write for 8 minutes to see what I come up with for the beginning of this story. I do already have an idea in my head, so we’ll see how it goes. If you would like to join in WIPpet Wednesday, it’s open to everyone and the rules and very simple. Write a post with your current WIP (work in progress) that in someway correlates to the date. It can be 8 sentences, 1 word, 14 paragraphs. And feel free to get very creative with the math. Once you’ve made the blog post, head on over here and link it up with everyone’s. Then go out and read as many posts as you can. Don’t forget to comment, because we’re all comment whores!!

Thanks to MyRandomMuse for hosting this event each week!

Now…for the start of this Moral Injury Novella

The gun didn’t feel right in his hands. They weight felt off, and the handle wasn’t quite warm enough. He slid his fingers back and forth along the barrel, feeling the oil from the cleaning he had just done. He should do it again. Biting his lip, Shayne Laurence started the whole process over.

Carefully, he took apart each piece, cleaning them to perfection. Then slowly he put the weapon back together again. The room was dimly lit, and by the end of the second cleaning, he had to squint in order to see. The alcohol flooded his brain, making him fuzzy and his world so narrowed that he could see every piece of it. It looked like a 9 mil.

Reaching over blinding, Shayne picked up his warm long neck and glugged the rest of it back. He didn’t sigh and he didn’t release a breath as the alcohol flooded down his system and into his stomach. Instead he felt his body churn and protest the liquor as it flowed through. Once again, Shayne lifted the handgun and held it carefully, the oil making the rough skin of his palm softer than it had been before.

He moved his hand up and down, once more testing the weight. It still wasn’t right. It wasn’t his service weapon. Shayne shook his head and leaned back in his chair. Reaching over to the side, he pulled up another longneck from the case he’d bought and hadn’t bothered to put in the fridge. It’d all be gone and drunk before it would have had a chance to get cold anyway.

A sound upstairs made him stop. Shayne shot his head up and looked toward the stairs to his basement as he listened intently for the sound again. Nothing happened. The refrigerator made a buzzing sound and the wind outside howled through the windows. The light flickered as if it was going out, but when Shayne reached over and tapped the metal head to the desk lamp, the light became fixed and brighter.

He listened for the creak and groan of wood that would tell him someone was walking through the living room of his house. He listened for the shuffle of footstep that would tell him if the person was male or female. He listened for the stumble and the fall as they tripped over the chest he’d left in the middle of the hallway in the pitch black house in order to stump the intruder before they reached him.

Shayne let out a breath when after thirty minutes of listening there was nothing there. It was the first time he truly remembered feeling in danger since that evening. Shaking his head, Shayne went back to his weapon and started rubbing the soft cloth over the metal, removing any excess oil that might still be there.

For any of you interested, on Monday I had a guest post from Francis James Franklin about being straight and writing LGBT and the whole slew of messiness that labeling means. There’s also a giveaway going on with two of his books and one from author Jaye McKenna, who will be interviewed next Monday. PLEASE oh PLEASE! go and sign up to win the books. =P why not? they’re free and they’re from awesome people!

LGBT Giveaway

Jumping in, two feet forward

I feel as though I’m completely jumping into part of the market world. I’ve signed and paid for my first ad to be placed (no, I’m not saying where or how much–maybe if it works or does work, there will be another post on that). I’ve been doing a lot of giveaways with eBooks and even a few with printed copies.

What I’ve found is this. I have no clue if my sales have increased. I should know at the start of next month. This month I got a whopping $6 on royalties. Which isn’t bad, considering it could have been $0 and the book has been out for nine months with little to no promotion! I have to say, it’s done far better than I thought it would.

But I have bigger expectations for Dying Embers. I want it to sell more, and I want it to help sell more of Forever Burn. The question that remains is just how to do that. From everything that I’ve read, discoverability of the book and of me is supposed to be far more important than sales. I supposed that’s because if people can find you, they will buy you–so the two are actually related.

In order to achieve this discoverability thing that I keep reading about, I jumped head first into a lot of giveaways. I upped the ante to try and get facebook likes as well as twitter followers. I’m ignoring sales and trying solely to be “around.” I think it might have actually worked.

Starting the second week in November, I’ve participated in about 3 or 4 giveaways as well as some other promos for other authors. It’s suggested on twitter that 5 out of ever 6 tweets for promotion should be about other people, not me. I’ve upped that, and my own promotions on twitter. I’m also still on there writing random things as I usually do.

There is a giveaway going on right now, Morgan Jane’s 2500 Likes Giveaway that I think has given me the most Facebook likes. I went from a mere 167 to well over 500 in the span of about 3 weeks. I’m still in shock over it. I’m also participating in Diane Rinella’s giveaway. For this I just did the post on the 6th as an author spotlight for her. Likewise, today I spent an hour on This Redhead LOVES Books page on Facebook doing a giveaway of Dying Embers and talking up my books. I’m also participating in a Strong Women in Fiction Giveaway that came up and I couldn’t resist it. I’ve done a guest post and provided a print copy of Forever Burn for it. Likewise, I’m also doing my own giveaway right now, for the pleasure of having achieved 500 likes on my Facebook author page.

It seems that I have jumped in with both feet into the marketing world. I was very hesitant to market at first and to take any risks. I didn’t know at all what I was doing or what I should be doing. Back in March–when Forever Burn was released–I don’t think I even really knew what a guest post was! I certainly didn’t know how to use raffelcopter. The learning curve for marketing has been steep and sharp, as well as having lots of rapids on the way. But something my mother always taught me when rafting down the river was to keep two feet forward–that way you only break your legs when you crash into something and not your head.

So, upon taking her advice, which she certainly did not intend for the writing world, I have jumped two feet forward into the waters of marketing, and I’m letting the current and rapids take me where they go. The theory remains the same. If I push my discoverability rather than sales, then the sales will come as a result of being found. The likelihood that my sales go up because more people actually know about the book seems rather logical (I think Spock would even like that answer).

So, ttfn folks, I hope you see me before I see you!