Guest Post, Excerpt and Giveaway The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series, #2) by Calinda B.

Published 14th August, 2013

Cover artist Calinda B.

Description:

Is Marissa Engles crazy? Or is she a paranormal Light Rebel who can shape form and manifest things using the electricity buzzing through her veins? Her aunt and sister think “Crazy.” The locked mental facility they've put her in thinks “Delusional.” 

She’s so drugged up, she can’t tell if they’re right. Only her new pal, Rafe Caldwell, another mental patient “inmate”, thinks she is what she says she is. And he intends to find out more – lots more. 

The only problem is her missing soul bound lover, Daniel Navid, who commands the darkest of the dark. But as they say, if the cat’s away…

GUEST POST

How do you prefer (and why) your female characters to be: damsel in distress or badass chick? Can they be both?

(MB' topic)

Women are amazing characters. We are complex. As some joke, we have lots of “dials and buttons and knobs” whereas men only have an “on/off” switch. We are mysterious. We are capable of amazing strength. Amazing acts of kindness and love. Incredible accomplishment. But we generally don’t start out that way. I know I sure didn’t. Like many, I’ve had more than my fair share of curve balls pitched my way. 

Keeping this in mind, I generally start out a series writing the female lead from the POV of her flaws. Her life has shaped her in some sad or disturbing ways. You might be uncomfortable when you read about her. You might say, “Snap out of it, girl!” Or you might cheer her on, certain that she can overcome the odds. Is she a damsel in distress, needing rescuing? Hell, no. She’s only not found her way yet. That’s where the fun begins. That’s where the possibilities start rolling in my head. How will she get from broken to restored, whole and alive? How will this woman become her badass self?

In The Beckoning of Beautiful Things, the first in the Beckoning series, we find Marissa Engles immersed in her art, yearning for a more fulfilling life. Boy, does she get that! She’s got a complete jackass of a boyfriend, a surfer dude named Jason. She meets Daniel Navid, sparks fly (literally!) and through learning that she’s not really who she thought she was, she’s transformed beyond her wildest dreams.

In The Beckoning of Broken Things, Marissa starts out smack dab in a mental hospital. She’s pissed. She doesn’t know how she got there, why she got there, who put her there. She’s told she’s delusional because she “thinks” she can stream electricity through her veins and shape the world around her, using her artistic skills. She’s put on a drug cocktail of Haloperidol, a drug commonly given to schizophrenics, and Carbamazepine to stabilize her mood. Carbamazepine is typically given to manic-depressives. This forced drug induction makes her even angrier. She’s had things done to her against her will; things done to her without her consent. She’s pissed. She wonders if she’s broken. She wonders how she will ever get out of the situation she’s in. 

She’s got a few resources at her disposal. One is her loyal, loving Doberman Pinscher, Sober Dober, with his new, sparkly wings. The other is her determination and her will to find solutions. Her unique abilities certainly play a part. Her sexual potency factors into her transformation as well. I find that sex and sexual energy can be one of the most transformative energies on the planet. It can burn like a blaze taking everything with it like a volcano. It can simmer and shape change in positive ways. All of my characters, no matter what shape they start out in, find their way out through sexual attraction, through owning their sexual power, and through their potent alliances with their partners of choice.

The Beckoning of Broken Things is one of my favorite books, to date. Marissa questions everything inside. She questions her morals. She questions her abilities. By the end of the book, she may not have all the answers, but she certainly embraces her badass self, as every woman should. 

Thank you, Mrs Calinda B

EXCERPT:

So tell me how you feel.”

I must be pretty heavily sedated because when the therapist asks me that question, the word “feel” comes out sounding like it’s a slide. I’ll just bet if I could climb on top of that slide, I’d be able to slip from the room and not have to answer that stupid question. I shake my head. What does she mean, how do I feel? I feel like been given something like heroin or Clonazepam or Secobarbital or some other mind-numbing agent. I feel like I weigh a thousand pounds, and I’m looking at her through thick glass walls and she’s talking to me through some kind of filter made of seven layers of dense foam. I feel like…wait, I know. I’m in here because I’m different. I’m sitting here with what feels like two hundred pounds of cotton between my ears because they don’t “get” who and what I am. They think there’s something wrong with me. They all think I’m broken.

She pushes up her glasses on her nose and taps her pen on the arm of the brown leather chair in which she sits, like a prim, porcelain doll. “I’m waiting.”

“Are you talking to me?”

Her face is wrinkled, like an Amish Apple Doll. Her dyed brown hair needs a touch-up. White and gray roots serve as a flag to her age. She smiles, a crisp, stiff smile like peanut brittle. “I don’t see anyone else sitting across from me, do you?”

I picture taking her smug smile in my fingers and snapping it in two, resulting in my own satisfied smile. “Where’s Daniel?”

“Who?”

“Daniel Navid. My soul bound lover.”

She frowns and scribbles a few notes in the black binder sitting on top of her lap. She smoothes her blue tweed skirt. Clears her throat. Tries again. “How do you feel right now, Ms. Engles? Your sisters were pretty concerned about you when they brought you in here.”

“Where, exactly, is here?”

“You don’t know?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t ask the question.”

The therapist nods, as if I’ve just said something profound. She gestures to the room with her certificates of accomplishment and education lining the beige walls like little soldiers. “Well, you’re at the Brookstone Center for Healing, in Bellevue, Washington. Do you know where Bellevue is?”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve lived in this area all my life. I live over in West Seattle, two bridges away from Bellevue. Of course I know where Bellevue is.” I reach up and rub my eyes, trying to clear the spider webs, mud puddles, and sludge clouding my mind.

“Do you know what day it is?” The peanut brittle smile appears again.

I want to smash that smile with a hammer. “Yeah, it’s today. And yesterday was yesterday. And tomorrow’s going to be tomorrow.”

She taps her pen. Scribbles. Frowns. Scribbles some more. “So you don’t actually know what day it is.” She says that as a statement, not a question.

“Let’s see, two days ago I was in Brazil, and it was Thursday. That must make today Saturday. What do I win?”

“What were you doing in Brazil?”

I pause and squint at her. This is a trick question. “I was visiting a friend.” I was kidnapped by a demented sorcerer. I stabbed his dead, but not really dead, girlfriend’s chest, and she exploded and her crystal dagger pierced the old man’s heart.

“I see.”

“And how did you get back from Brazil?”

“I flew.” On a beautiful winged creature known as a Coati-lumina. Her name is Chiara, and she allowed me to claim her a few nights ago. She’s huge and brilliant, and she shines like diamonds. “Where’s Daniel?”

“There was no one at your home but you when your sisters stopped by. They were very worried about you. Said you were having a completely delusional conversation with them. Do you remember what you said?”

I incline my head and study her. Another trick question. “Maybe.”

“Can you tell me what you said to them?”

“Will you let me go if I do?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m afraid we need to keep you here for a while. Your sisters were very worried.”

“You already said that.”

“And they decided that a good psych evaluation was in order.”

“Oh, they did, did they?” I’m going to murder them. I’m going to strangle the daylights out of them. In my mind, I pick up a pricey sable paintbrush and paint them as tiny fragments of skin and bone, being blown to smithereens. “What gives them the right to have me evaluated?”

“Your aunt still holds guardianship. She was the one who ordered this.”

Aunt Topaz. “I’m 26 for God’s sake. I’ve lived on my own since I was 18. I think I get to be my own guardian, don’t you?”

“In this case, no. When someone is…when someone is ill…” She pauses, frowning.

She was going to say mentally deranged. They all think I’m delusional because electricity flows through my veins, and I can burst into brilliant light and paint things with my mind and will them into…

“When someone is ill it falls to the guardian or parent.”

I don’t think that’s true but can’t argue it right now. My head is so heavy I need a crane to keep it upright. I purse my lips trying to remember something about my aunt. This goddamn drug is making it hard to think. My mouth is dry. I want to leap into a lake and suck it into my throat in one long swallow. Think, Engles, think. And then it all came back to me, like someone shot a memory cannon through my head, blasting open my brain. My dear Aunt Topaz hid my abilities away from me when I was 15. She and Daniel’s father, Armando, cast a spell over me and wiped my memories clean. And now she put me here? Armando and Aunt Topaz are definitely on my to-do list. I just don’t know what to do - yet. My hands squeeze tight, capturing my anger. I restored my Light Rebel skills with Tom the sorcerer’s help. He taught me how to hunt like a predator before taking me on an ether trip to discover what happened. When I showed Daniel my newly restored light, he…I swallow my arousal and blink back tears.

Daniel. He’s a Night Numen and commands the darkest of the dark. He can wave his hand, rip the atmosphere in two, and draw foul creatures from wherever the hell they live. Thinking of his handsome tan face, stubble-covered jaw, eyes that are hypnotically blue, 6’1” muscular body, dark hair that falls in his face when he’s on top, his bronze skin, his hips, his legs, his hands…thinking of him makes me seriously horny, even with this drug-filled, muzzy-headed haze between my ears. And then I get a little mad. I mean, a couple of weeks ago he did bind my soul until the end of time to his without asking me, but it might have been for my own good. Might have. Not sure. Still a little miffed. We’ll sort it out by and by. I really need to see him. I need to get out of here - now. “I want to go home. I want to talk to Daniel. I need to see Daniel. I need to take care of my dog, Sober Dober.” I nod, satisfied with this statement, certain that it will yield results.

“I don’t know who Daniel is. Your dog is being well-cared for by your aunt.”

I lunge to my feet, or at least I want to lunge. It turns into more of a lurching wobble. “Aunt Topaz has my dog? That’s just wrong. Aunt Topaz hates things that are messy. She detests mess and color and light and…” And Sober has brand new sparkly wings. They’re training wings. He’s not very good with them yet. He got his wings when I restored my light. But I don’t say that. I dare not say that. I’ll be in this place for a million years if I tell her my dog has wings.

Goodreads ** Amazon

Book #1

Artist Marissa Engles has hidden in a world of paint and sorrow, ever since her parents died eleven years ago. When she meets Daniel Navid, sparks fly – literally – from her fingers to his. She’s immediately swept from her pristine world into one of terrifying darkness, dazzling, electrifying light, and unimaginable sensual pleasures.

With her faithful Doberman by her side, Marissa uses her creative imagination to restore her Light Rebel skills. She comes face to face with pure evil - the demented sorcerer known as El Demonio de la Muerte.

El D’s got plans for her. He plans to charm her into forgetting she ever met Daniel Navid, the sexiest, most dangerous man she’s ever known.

About the author:

An award-winning web designer and certified SEO specialist, Calinda B has worked in the Internet industry as a web page designer/developer since the early 1990's. She has also taught web site design and computer graphics at community colleges in Northern California. In addition to writing, Calinda B creates fine art and music, and enjoys scuba diving, kayaking, and bike riding. Calinda B makes her home in the Pacific Northwest with the love of her life and her two cats. She is currently working on the fourth book in The Wicked Series, tentatively entitled A Wicked Ending, or the third book in The Beckoning Series or maybe those are done and she's working on.... She loves to write and does it daily.

Website ** Blog ** Goodreads ** Facebook ** Twitter

Author's Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway