Genre: Fantasy, contemporary, metaphysical
Publisher: Cinnabar Press
Number of pages: 405
Word Count: 135,000
Cover Artist: Jennifer FitzGerald
Teddie likes her country music and her old pick-up truck and she's not sure how she let her best friend talk her into spending a semester abroad in Darjeeling India. Once she arrives, her innocence quickly collides with an underworld in which young women are bartered and sold. As she fights to understand a depravity that she never dreamed existed, Teddie finds that her own mind develops a unique ability for locating her friends and that an ancient group is willing to train her to use her innate skills for out of body experiences to save others.
It will require trust in ideas she barely believes, and more courage than has ever been expected of her. When it becomes clear that the alternative may be her friends' deaths and the unchecked growth of an evil crime lord's empire, Teddie accepts the challenge and shows those guilty of unspeakable crimes just how powerful a young woman can be.
Available at Amazon
Note: this is collection, not a series. The books can be read in any order.
“So why not kill her?’ Vasily persisted as they finished their lunch. “You don’t want her. She’s useless.” He was talking about the American girl of course, in which Pavel had no interest and who now sat bound, gagged and heavily sedated in a walk-in closet in a vacant rental home in Manali.
“Because if she is dead, we know that she is useless,” Pavel said. “If she’s alive, it remains to be seen. Get her out of here, far away from this town. In fact, get her to Southeast Asia where she looks like the other girls and won’t stand out. We have a business in Bangkok, send her there. I do not—repeat, do not—want any trouble to come from this one. Make sure that you don’t lose track of her, just in case she turns out to be any kind of bargaining chip down the road. Now go. I need some peace and quiet to drink my coffee and think about what to do next.”
“Okay,” Vasily sighed. He had been looking forward to killing the girl.
Pavel, who knew him too well, admonished him as he started to leave. “I don’t want you or any of your goons laying a hand on her either. I’ve told you before. Your guys do not know the meaning of the word restraint.”
“Plenty of others gonna lay hands on her where she’s going,” Vasily muttered.
“Yeah well most of them don’t like to do so many things that leave marks,” his boss glared back. “I mean it, Vasily. Get her to Bangkok where she can earn her keep and be out of our way. If we can use her, we’ll bring her back.”
“Yes boss.” Vasily thought sadly that power did strange things to men. There had been a time not that long ago when Pavel not only would have okayed the kill, he would happily have joined his men in the fun.
10 things you don’t want to happen when you are trying to write the most important scene in your book.
by Sherrie Cronin
The bit you are about to write is crucial. You’ve planned this time well. You’ve turned off your phone, sent your significant other away for the day, and placed ample snacks and drinks within arm’s reach. This is it, this where it all comes together. This is where you are going to be brilliant.
And then …..
1. You hear a drip. It is steady, getting louder, becoming hard to ignore. Drip. Drip. Damn. You shouldn’t have taken a shower first. What were you thinking? You’ve got to get that thing fixed.
2. You hear another noise, You’re pretty sure it’s coming from the trashcan. It is not a mosquito kind of noise, but more like a something bigger is rummaging around kind of noise. You should have emptied that thing days ago.
3. Now there is a plane overhead. No, it’s not a plane. It’s a chopper and it’s getting closer. How come those things are so loud anyway?
4. Seriously? You see a man holding a leaf blower walking into your front yard? Who sent him? Nobody has done anything approaching yard work here in months. Is he going to turn that thing on now?
5. You tell yourself to calm down. Ignore the noise. Ignore all of the noise. This is your time to dazzle. You go to open the latest version of your masterpiece, and your computer freezes. Unbelievable.
6. That drip isn’t coming from your shower, either. It’s not even coming from the bathroom. It’s coming from the wall behind you and it is definitely getting louder.
7. The sounds from the trash can are getting more lively too. The little plastic sides are starting to bulge and there are angry noises. Whatever is in there, there are two of them and they are not happy with each other.
8. There is another chopper coming. Make that at least two. Maybe more. They’re sound as if they are coming from different directions and they seem to be converging on your neighborhood.
9. Wait, that man isn’t holding a leaf blower. It looks more like a detector of some kind. Radiation? And he is definitely wearing some sort of protective suit. Hazmat? Bomb squad?
10. The frozen blue screen on your computer turns bright red and begins to flash. In big yellow letters it spells out Stop imagining things and get to work.
But imagining things is what I do, you complain. You shake your head to clear it and you open a bag a chips and a bottle of water and start to type.
This scene is going to be great. It is going to be the best thing you have ever written.
1. Is that a baby crying outside? It sounds like it is coming from your porch.
2. Look at those dark clouds. That is one horrible storm about to arrive.
Sherrie Roth grew up in Western Kansas thinking that there was no place in the universe more fascinating than outer space. After her mother vetoed astronaut as a career ambition, she went on to study journalism and physics in hopes of becoming a science writer. She published her first science fiction short story long ago, and then waited a lot of tables while she looked for inspiration for the next story. When it finally came, it declared to her that it had to be whole book, nothing less. One night, while digesting this disturbing piece of news, she drank way too many shots of ouzo with her boyfriend. She woke up thirty-one years later demanding to know what was going on.
The boyfriend, who she had apparently long since married, asked her to calm down and explained that in a fit of practicality she had gone back to school and gotten a degree in geophysics and had spent the last 28 years interpreting seismic data in the oil industry. The good news, according to Mr. Cronin, was that she had found it at least mildly entertaining and ridiculously well-paying The bad news was that the two of them had still managed to spend almost all of the money.
Apparently she was now Mrs. Cronin, and the further good news was that they had produced three wonderful children whom they loved dearly, even though to be honest that is where a lot of the money had gone. Even better news was that Mr. Cronin turned out to be a warm-hearted, encouraging sort who was happy to see her awake and ready to write. "It's about time," were his exact words.
Sherrie Cronin discovered that over the ensuing decades Sally Ride had already managed to become the first woman in space and apparently had done a fine job of it. No one, however, had written the book that had been in Sherrie's head for decades. The only problem was, the book informed her sternly that it had now grown into a six book series. Sherrie decided that she better start writing it before it got any longer. She's been wide awake ever since, and writing away.