Here in Georgia, everyone has been in school for weeks, but if you live in the magical part of the world that starts mid-September, know I’ve always been jealous of you.

If you live in the extra-extra magical part of the world that the television keeps showing me that features kids waking up, getting ready, and eating a full-course breakfast while the sun is brightly shining….tell me where you live because I’d like to move before my daughter starts school.

Seriously, comment below.

Whether you are just now starting school (lucky1!) or if you’ve been in for weeks, I’ve got something special for you that I’ve been working on. It’s an excerpt from a middle grade project I’ve been working on with the working title “School.”

Excuse any typos, it’s early in drafting yet, and comment below with your thoughts to enter to win a copy of my young adult novel, Persephone.

Chapter 1

“Are you nervous?” Mom asked as we approached the large brick structure that was to be my middle school for one year.

I turned in my seat to look at her, pulling on my seatbelt. “Are you kidding? Of course I’m nervous!”

She gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m proud of you for making this choice. It was a very mature decision.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It hadn’t been much of a choice. Mom wanted me to get used to attending a larger, public institution before I started ninth grade at the magnet school. So she’d given me a choice. If I sacrificed private school for one year, she’d use the money she was saving in tuition to buy me a car when I turned sixteen.

Talk about delayed gratification. But I needed a car. And not in some spoiled teenage way. Columbus, Georgia is not a pedestrian-friendly town. The nearest grocery store to my house wasn’t within walking distance, much less any place interesting. And the only bus in town drove a one mile loop between the malls. Both of which were too far to walk to. And because Mom’s new job took her out of town for three and four days at a time, I couldn’t rely on her for a ride.

Mom was still giving her pep talk. I smiled and nodded in all the right places as I gathered my book bag and lunch box.

Mesh, so I couldn’t carry any concealed weapons. Lovely thought. But at least it came in pink.

“It’s not going to be as bad as you think it. You get to start over. You’ll be the new girl. It’ll be like that movie.”

“Mean Girls?”

“Mmm… Was that the one with the sparkly vampires?”

“Not even remotely. But you have a point. Being stalked by a reformed murderer would be a first.” Was she really going to pretend there was a chance I could be popular here? This was public school. I’d seen enough TV shows to know what to expect: bullies in the hallways, pervasive sexual harassment, drugs, smoking in bathrooms, and possibly even spontaneous musical numbers in the lunch room.

A horn honked, jolting me out of my reverie and cutting Mom’s pep talk short. “I guess we’re blocking the car pool lane,” she murmured. Her eyes flashed with irritation. “Honey, are you sure you’re–”

“I’m fine, Mom.” I opened the door and stepped out of the car, slinging my book bag over my shoulder and grabbing my lunch box from the floorboard. “Love you.”

“Love you, too!”

I closed the door and hopped onto the curb, waving as she drove away in our little red Saturn. I turned slowly towards the school and swallowed hard. These people don’t know you. I reminded myself. And after this year I’ll never see them again. I had no delusions of gaining popularity, but the knowledge that it didn’t matter what these people thought of me was kind of freeing. I didn’t have to worry about the social hierarchy. It didn’t apply to me whatsoever.

I lifted my chin and walked into the school. At least there weren’t security guards and metal detectors like I’d seen in some of the movies. Students flowed up and down the halls. Laughter bounced off the peeling paint on the burgundy lockers. I stopped, fishing for my schedule so I could find the room number for my home-room when a short boy with white hair bumped into me.

“Watch it, ginger!” He growled, shouldering past me.

I frowned, adjusted my book bag and tried to step out of the way, but the walls were crowded with kids. A quick look around confirmed I was not the only pale redhead clogging up the hallway. A first for me. There had been other redheads in other grades at my old school, but we were few and far between. I’d never seen so many kids together in one place. At my old school there were only twelve of us per class. The students in this hallway alone probably outnumbered the entire student body of my old school. I felt claustrophobic. Oddly enough, the center of the hall was free. I moved to the middle of the hallway, pulled my phone out of my pocket and switched it to silent mode. Now where was my home-room?

Someone plucked the phone from my hand.

“Hey! That’s mine!” I snapped, spinning on my heel in outrage. I’d been in the school for less than ten minutes and someone was already trying to steal from me!

A woman in a purple blouse and a black skirt raised an eyebrow at my tone. “Cell phones are not permitted on school grounds.”

“What? Why? I wasn’t going to use it. That’s why I put it on silent.”

“I didn’t say noisy cell phones weren’t allowed on school grounds. All cell phones. I’ll be taking this to the office. Your parent or guardian can pick it up on Friday.”

“Friday?”

“Yes. If we find a cell phone we lock it up for the week.”

Oh hell no. I needed my cell phone. If I didn’t have my cell phone my Mom wouldn’t be able to reach me when she left town. I glanced around and noticed people watching me. Nothing obvious, it wasn’t like a crowd had gathered, but I could feel eyes on me, none-the-less.

“Could we speak privately, please?” I asked the woman in the purple blouse.

“We have nothing to discuss.” She waddled away, heels clacking on the white vinyl tiles.

I held back a sigh and followed her.

“Stay on the maroon tiles!” An authoritative voice bellowed.

What? I glanced down. The tiles were white. I lifted my head to ask what the hell that man had been talking about when a slash of pink caught my eye. A single row of pink tiles bordered the walls. They may have been ‘maroon’ once, but they’d long since faded to a color of pink I’d only ever seen in cat vomit.

“If you are walking in the hall you need to stay on the maroon tiles.” At least he wasn’t yelling anymore. But his voice was still deep. I stared at the balding man in a collared white shirt. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“I see…” I took two steps to the left and stood on a pink tile, raising my eyebrows at him in question. “May I go now?”

He nodded his assent and I took off towards the office. This was going to be a long school year.

When asked to post a spicy scene for this blog hop, I’ll admit, I was at a bit of a loss. Persephone and Hades had a few scenes that might qualify, but they were super short and so heavy with context that new readers would be lost and fans of the series would already have read it. Then I remembered that I’m writing a book about Aphrodite.

So below is an excerpt from my work in progress Venus and Adonis. V&A is the fourth book of the Daughters of Zeus series and picks up shortly after Persephone’s trilogy leaves off. For more information about the series as a whole click here.

Hope it’s spicy enough.

~@~

I slipped out to the balcony. The steady bass beat of Adonis’ music complimented the rumbling thunder. Rain splashed against my upturned face, and I grinned, spreading my arms as the rain picked up speed. Thunder rumbled and I yelled right back at it, spinning around, laughing.

“What are you doing?” Adonis stood just inside the balcony doors.

“I’m celebrating.” I spun around again, raindrops flinging off my skirt. “You’d know all about this if you’d come on that road trip.”

The thunder rumbled again and I yelled back at it, grinning.

“Celebrating what? And how? By pissing off the people in the next room?”

“Our room is shielded,” I reminded him. “No one can hear us. And what am I celebrating? Are you kidding?” Lightning flickered over the sea. “That!”

“That?”

“This is Zeus’ symbol. His…it’s his identity. Every time it stormed, every lightning strike, he took power in it, and now he’s not here anymore but we are.” The thunder cracked in the sky and I spun around, yelling again. “We were a part of that! We defeated him. Me, and Ares, and Hephaestus, we promised we wouldn’t forget our part in that. Zeus might still be alive now if it wasn’t for us.” I spun around again. “Every time it storms, we celebrate.”

“By getting soaked and screaming at the sky?”

“By dancing in the rain and shouting to the heavens,” I amended. “We’re gods. You’re surprised we like ritual?”

Adonis shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”

“Wait!” I called as he retreated into the room. “Care to join me?” Beads of rain dripped off my skin to the deck of the balcony. My hair was plastered to my face, and I’m sure my clothes looked awful, but when it rained I didn’t care. “It’s your celebration too.”

“Mine?” Adonis laughed. “All I did was knock you out. Not my proudest moment.”

I blinked. “Adonis, if you hadn’t have knocked me out, I would have forced Ares and Hephaestus to swear fealty to Zeus. He would have drained every last drop of power from us, and Persephone might not have had enough power to win. You saved us.”

Adonis looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think–”

I reached out and grabbed his hand. “I’m alive because of you. I’ll never stop owing you for that. This is your victory too. Come celebrate.”

Adonis gave me a tight lipped grin, then stepped back, retreating into the room. I shrugged, and turned back to the storm. I tilted my head up and let the rain fall on my face. I was free. Zeus could never be able to make me do anything again. “You can’t hurt me.”

“Do you hear that?” Opening my eyes, I blinked the rain out of them. “Do you hear that?” I demanded, louder. The thunder rumbled, and I grinned just to piss him off that much more. “I’m free!” Lightning flashed and I whooped, spinning around, flinging rain water off me.

“If we’re going to do this,” Adonis said crossing the balcony threshold carrying his phone, and a few glass bottles. “We’re going to do this right. No one can hear us?”

I grinned, and shook my head.

He turned up his phone and put it on the ground just inside the suite, I assumed to protect it from the rain. Music filled the balcony, and Adonis passed me one of the bottles of tequila. “To winning.”

I raised the bottle to my lips.”To winning.”

The thunder rumbled and we both yelled at it, then took a shot. I spun around, grabbing Adonis’ hand and taking him with me as we went around and around and around. I let myself get lost in the music and drinks, and the rain. We danced and yelled till our throats were hoarse.

“Okay, okay, your turn,” Adonis announced an hour and countless shots later.

I swiped a puddle off the water tight surface before perching on the edge of my seat. “I never…lied.”

Adonis took another drink. “I never…” He trailed off, face screwed up in concentration far more intense than the task required. “got arrested.” He frowned again. “I think.”

I laughed, reaching for his bottle of tequila. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“Uh-uh, it’s your turn.” Adonis stood, holding the bottle over his head, just out of my reach, unsteady on his feet.

“I’m at a distinct disadvantage in this game, you know.”

“It’s your turn,” he insisted.

“Fine. I’ve never heard this song before.”

Adonis took a drink. “It’s a great song. I never…charmed my way out of a speeding ticket.”

I scowled at him, and took a drink. “I never…hit a girl.”

Adonis swore and took another drink. “I never apologized for that.”

I laughed. “I’ll never ask you to.”

“I never…shoplifted.”

I took another drink. “I never…kissed a demigod.”

Adonis grinned. “I can fix that.” His grin flickered as if he was just remembering his ex, the demigoddess Elise. “Damn you,” he laughed, lowering the bottle to take a drink.

I grabbed the bottle before he could lift it out of my reach. Thunder rumbled, shaking the balcony. Adonis and I hollered back at the thunder as the boat skipped over the choppy water, bouncing up and down.

“Give it back,” Adonis reached for the bottle, but I danced backward, out of his reach, laughing.

“Make me.”

Adonis lunged at me and slipped on a patch of water, falling forward and crushing me against the bars of the balcony. I laughed as he steadied himself. Looking up at him, I watched the rain drip off the contours of his face.

“I never thanked you for saving me,” I realized.

Adonis looked down at me, golden eyes darkening with an emotion I didn’t recognize. “I’ll never ask you to.”

He moved away from me, but not far. We hovered there for a moment, his hands gripping the railing on either side of me, a fraction of an inch from touching me. His body, teasingly close to mine. “Gods, you’re gorgeous.”

I stepped forward, erasing the distance between us and tilting my face up to his. His breath caught and I smiled, pleased to have that effect on someone as unflappable as Adonis. Twining my arms around his neck, I touched my lips to his. My intention had been to tease. A soft, quick and simple kiss before ducking away with a breathy one liner. Always leave them wanting more and what not.

I wasn’t prepared for his reaction. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him, warm lips pressing against mine, chasing away all the cold rain that tried to drip between us. No chance I was going to let myself be outdone by a demigod. My hands grabbed at the back of his shirt, pulling him to me with every ounce of fervor he was using to pull me to him. Gathering the material in my hands, I pulled his shirt up. The soft fabric give way to firm flesh.

He let me go, hands jerking to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them before they broke or strangled him. The shirt dropped to the ground. Adonis lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around him, dress riding up my thighs, hands exploring the paths the raindrops took down his golden flesh. There was no give to Adonis, he was all muscle.

His muscles flexed, one hand wrapped around me tight, solid and sure, I knew he wasn’t going to let me fall. The other sliding down my skin, pushing my dress off my shoulders.

He tasted like salt and rain. His mouth moved away from mine and I cried out in objection but then I felt his breath against my throat, kisses, feather light, working their way down my throat, to the hollow in my neck, burning away the cold.

Hosted by Author Morgana Black and Mark My Words Book Publicity

As part of the Summer of Spice and Everything Nice Giveaway Hop you have a chance to win a 6″ Kindle! For your chance to win enter below:a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hot as Hades?

I have to admit, when reviews started coming in for Persephone talking about how hot Hades is, I was shocked. I don’t know why I was shocked, I described Hades as drool-worthy, and my mental image of him certainly counts as hot, but the idea that I’d written a guy that readers claimed to be in love with/obsessed with was just insane to me! In a good way. I love those reviews 🙂

So what makes a hero in a fiction book hot? Here’s what my readers seem to like:

Minimal (good looking) description. Let’s face it, what readers can conjure up in their heads is much more enticing than words on a page. All I said about Hades was that he looked good, had black hair, electric blue-eyes, an angular face, skin that could have been carved from marble (What? He’s a Greek god, I had to pay homage to all those statues somehow), is tall, and that he had a strong build.

That’s it. And that description didn’t pop up all in one place. It was peppered over chapters, one or two details would repeat, hair and eye color mostly, but that’s all I wrote. There are a billion different ways Hades could actually look based on those descriptions. Tall for instance is largely a matter of perspective. Persephone mentioned barely clearing 5 feet (my height), to me there’s not a huge difference between someone who is 5’6 and 6’5. When you’re already craning your neck to look up at someone a foot doesn’t make that much of a difference. But I’m willing to wager my readers that are 5’6 picture someone taller than they are.

I’ve seen writers over-do it. I’ve read characters who were 6’2 1/2 inches, with hair the color of burnt umber paint by Blic Art, oil #3541. They get slammed for it to in reviews. I had a writer friend (who to be clear did NOT over-do the description of his character to that degree, or any degree actually) get a two-star review because the reader didn’t like facial hair.

On the other hand, don’t under-do it. I remember being shocked in book 4 of the Left Behind series when the writer casually mentioned Buck was blond. For some reason I’d pictured him to be like Kirk Cameron. His description might have included that earlier, but not often enough for me to not be jerked out of the book when that detail was dropped. I remember a bunch of other people mentioning that to, so it wasn’t just me. Have you ever series a book pronouncing the characters name one way, then heard the author say it another? It’s jarring, and for me, it ruins that character forever because I actually get stressed when I see there name on the page because I know I’m reading it “wrong” but habit is hard to break.

A reader’s imagination is a powerful thing. Leave them the room to picture their dream guy, but give them something to picture.

Over protective tendencies:

I don’t know what this says about me as a woman, and I don’t particularly care. Guys that try to protect their significant others are hot.

Unless of course they go so far as to disable the protagonists car so she can’t leave her house to visit the neighborhood warehouse, mentally stalk her, or watch her while she sleeps without her knowing. That’s just creepy.

For some reason anger plays really well into overprotectiveness. When someone tries to hurt the main character and the hero gets really, really mad, that’s very attractive. Not sure why, and again, there is a delicate balance, but if the goodreads status updates are any indication, angry Hades scenes make my readers happy, and tend to be my favorite moments in the book.

Barriers This is one I love in books and movies but hate in real life. When the guy is rude, and condescending, and hard to read to everyone except the main character who breaks through his cool tough guy exterior. She’s the only one who can really understand him, and boy do the two of them share some biting one-liner arguments as they argue/build up sexual tension. Often there’s a scary darkness to these characters that they want to leave behind to be worthy of the main character, who appreciates their darkness because it reflects a side of themselves they’re afraid to express.

There’s an element of that to Hades, though he at least is also portrayed as a nice guy to everyone with sarcastic tendencies. See, in real life, these guys would be so irritating that to me it wouldn’t be worth dating them. But for some reason that borderline-condescending sarcasm with all the dark layers of wounded whateverness is really attractive in fiction.

Describe your favorite fictional hot hero and what you like about them.How do they fit into the big three trends of hot heroes I’ve mentioned above? Did I leave out any trends you’ve noticed? Comment below for a chance to win your choice of one of my books and of course keep hopping for more chances to win a Barnes and Noble Gift Card!

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The winner of the supernatural summer contest (for my blog anyway) was Diamond. She left the following comment:

Great post. You really got me thinking.

My favorite paranormal protagonist is Lestat from The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice. I think I have a lot Lestat would be envious of. He’d be envious of my mortality; that I can and will die at any moment of my life, making me cherish my life more. He’d be envious of the relationships I’ve had (romantic wise) because since he’s consumed by blood lust he doesn’t have any other lust or desire, and he misses that (he says so in the books).
Reading about Lestat’s glamorous yet lonely immortal existence is really fun…but I no longer literally wish I was an immortal. The burden and grief is too great. Anne’s books have taught me that lesson. Or maybe, since I’ve grown up reading her books I taught myself simply by witnessing my change of opinion within a 10 year span.

Dee @ Dee’s Reads

Thank you all for commenting and keep checking my blog for more giveaways 🙂

My favorite goddess is, of course, Persephone. Though Aphrodite is growing on me. So, giveaway time, in honor of this blog hop. Comment the answers below for a chance to win an ecopy of Persephone, or any other books I have written. I’ll choose a random winner and announce it on June 9th.

*Myths were passed on and adapted through oral retellings through multiple cultures, and retold by a variety of authors. Homer, Ovid, Virgil and many other classical writers each put their own spin on the myths to suite their stories, just as I altered the myths to fit the plot of Persephone. I pulled from a variety of sources, combining the elements of multiple versions, so please be aware that the myths you read below are by no means the “official” or definitive versions of the myth. If you hear or read an alternate version somewhere else it is not wrong or inaccurate. It is simply a different telling.

The rape of Persephone:

Kore, the goddess of Spring, was a beautiful goddess and would have had many suiters had her mother, Demeter, goddess of agriculture, not kept her hidden away from the other gods. One day Kore went to a meadow to pick narcissus flowers, lilacs, poppies, or some other flower depending on the source with some nymphs when Hades, God of the Underworld spots her and decides he wants her for his wife. He bursts through the earth (in some versions, Gaia, goddess of Earth assists him) in his creepy black chariot of death, and drags Kore into the Underworld. After her rape/marriage, Kore becomes known as Persephone, the Queen of the Underworld.

Demeter, goddess of Agriculture and Persephone’s mother, searches frantically for her daughter, neglecting her duties as a goddess and plunging the earth into famine. Helios, god of the sun, or in some versions Persephone’s nymph friends, tell Demeter what happened and she begs Zeus to rescue her daughter.

At first Zeus tells Demeter she should be pleased to have such a high ranking son in law, but eventually relents since too many people are starving to worship him properly, and sends Hermes to liberate Persephone so long as she has not consumed food or drink in he Underworld.

Meanwhile, Persephone is tricked into eating 3-7(depending on the version) pomegranate seeds by the god Ascalapus, Hades’ gardener. He is turned into a screech owl in retribution for his crime, and Persephone is forced to return to the Underworld for a month every year for each seed she ate. While she is home with her mother, plants grow, but during her time in the Underworld every year they die. This myth is considered an explanation for winter.

Changing a gods name to reflect a change in their divine role was not uncommon. In Persephone’s case she doesn’t even get a name until she’s important. Kore translated to girl, or maiden.
Persephone has a variety of other names and titles within her cult the Eleusinian Mysteries.

The pomegranate is known as the fruit of the dead as well as a symbol for fertility, and thanks to the little crown on the top of a pomegranate is a symbol of royalty. So it’s easy to see why it was chosen as symbol in the Persephone myth. You’ve got royalty for the new Queen of Spring/fertility of the dead. When you cut it open is naturally divided into three to six sections depending on the fruit. It is full of tiny little seeds covered in a blood red juice.

While the Persephone myth is the most well known example of using a Pomegranate for symbolism, way back when, this weird little fruit found its way into a variety of stories across cultures.

The flower chosen in the myth kind of sets the tone for the whole story. The narcissus flower for instance is commonly seen as a phallic symbol, and a symbol of unrequited love, and as a portent for death, so you’ve got some foreshadowing, and loss of innocence going there. Other flowers symbolize different things that the story teller may be trying to get across.

In my version of the story Hades was actually rescuing Persephone. The idea that Hades may not have been the bad guy has been toyed with in popular culture throughout my entire life (Beauty and the Beast anyone?) so it’s logical, and certainly not original, to consider that Hades may have just been misunderstood.

That myth has never really vanished or fallen out of fashion. It resonates with us for some reason. If you studied any mythology at all in school, you learned the Persephone myth. I think part of it is if you take the myth at face value, it’s unspeakable, so we want to fix this poor girls fate. But another part of it is that it seems incomplete. In most myths you get a bit of characterization. Zeus’s personality and wants and needs come across crystal clear in every single myth he’s a part of. Hades and Persephone both are ambiguous in this myth. Instead we learn a lot about Demeter, and her devotion as a mother. I wanted to know what happened down there. So I wrote my own version.

So my questions:

Why did Persephone’s name change?

Why a pomegranate?

Why did I change the myth?