tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62062751140722991632024-03-05T19:55:15.896-05:00 Addie ThorleyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206275114072299163.post-49318517677912408622013-05-02T09:26:00.000-04:002013-05-02T09:26:04.505-04:00The Writer's Voice: DIVINATIONI am thrilled to announce that I am one of the lucky 150 writers randomly selected (via rafflecopter) to participate in The Writer's Voice contest! Woohoo! <br />
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The Writer’s Voice is a multi-blog contest hosted by <a href="http://brenleedrake.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Brenda Drake</a>, <a href="http://cupidslitconnection.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Cupid</a>, <a href="http://monibw.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Monica B.W.</a>, and <a href="http://motherwrite.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Krista Van Dolzer</a>. For all the details about this contest, <a href="http://brenleedrake.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-writers-voice-details.html" target="_blank">click here</a>. Check out my entry below. <br />
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<strong>Query: </strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Seventeen-year-old Gypsy Taliya Bogdanov shouldn’t be able
to summon the spirits with her tarot cards. It’s all supposed to be a show for
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gaujos— </i>the outsiders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when word gets out about a secret reading
Taliya did for a friend—a reading that led to a hidden chest of gold— the
superstitious clan decides to look into all of her predictions. Even the ones
she’s not so proud of. Like the reading she did for Besnik Corsi, her brother
Luca’s playboy best friend (who she’s secretly in love with). According to
tradition, Luca should be next in line to lead the clan, but the cards
predicted Besnik and then death for both boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">No longer willing to accept Luca outright, the clan demands
a competition for the title. A competition Taliya must judge as the seer of the
fortune. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Desperate to outdo each other, the boys push the boundaries
of their novice Gypsy magic, and Luca accidentally unlocks a door to
Otherworld— a terrible place believed only to exist in Gypsy folklore. A place
where souls are split and trapped forever. Now, choosing between her brother
and the boy she loves is the least of Taliya’s worries. She must find a way to
retrieve Luca’s soul, and protect Besnik’s, before the rest of her foreboding
predictions become reality. Unfortunately, for Taliya, changing the future is a
whole lot harder than predicting it. </span></div>
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Complete at 112,00 words, DIVINATION is a stand-alone novel with series potential. It will appeal to readers of the <em>Gemma Doyle Trilogy </em>and <em>Scarlet</em> by A.C. Gaughen. Thank you for your time and consideration. </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong>First 250:</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Chapter One<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Riches, love, and death. That’s all they cared to hear about.
All anyone wanted from my tarot cards and me. No matter where our caravan
traveled, the townspeople came in droves, traipsing through the wilderness to our
shoddy camps, desperate to have their fortunes told. Like a swarm of angry bees,
they’d buzz in and out our <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vardos</i>,
tossing fistfuls of pennies in our hats, hoping to learn the secrets of life,
as they called them. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p> </o:p>I called them falsehoods. Dirty, little lies. But, perhaps, I
was too blunt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Tell me, Madam Taliya, why am I not rich?” they would ask
me. Or: “How can I make her fall in love with me?” Or: “When and where will I
die?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Riches, love, and death. Always in that order. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Foolish <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gaujos</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But I wasn’t above making a dime, and I certainly wasn’t
going to tell them the truth— that the cards were just a guideline, a
prediction of events should their course not change. That wasn’t what the customers
wanted to hear. Wasn’t what they were paying for. No one wanted to be told they
were poor ‘cause they were a worthless drunk. Or that they would never find
love ‘cause they had an insufferable personality— one they likely inherited
from their equally insufferable mother. That implied a portion of the bad luck was
their own doing, their own fault, and worse yet still, that they could change
it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Change</i>. Such a
filthy, rotten word. I learned never to mention it ‘cause change sounded hard. Change
meant work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<strong></strong>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6206275114072299163.post-1515084318585353222013-02-04T07:00:00.000-05:002013-02-05T12:46:39.971-05:00CLC Kissing Contest!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3K4VwtsWiHI_JPuqR0vqlHg91ZmFZfrLvbpBjxX84pwfigBeFW_4zNTRta-ys4bL2_zY2WlYH86gwy4an42dgLqv6hg1uMdVxEyAVRgDyISd8DBIVUujWEpsdXT-o_7Mh6mnum38mMQhy/s1600/kiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3K4VwtsWiHI_JPuqR0vqlHg91ZmFZfrLvbpBjxX84pwfigBeFW_4zNTRta-ys4bL2_zY2WlYH86gwy4an42dgLqv6hg1uMdVxEyAVRgDyISd8DBIVUujWEpsdXT-o_7Mh6mnum38mMQhy/s1600/kiss.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">PUCKER UP!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ok, so here's the background: Taliya loves Tristan, and Tristan loves Taliya. Everything should be peachy, right? Not so much. Burned by her former lover, Taliya is convinced no one will ever like her again. Especially not someone as perfect as Tristan. After about a thousand almost-kisses, their slow burn romance comes to a head when Taliya finally gets up the courage to confront him about it...</span> <br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p>
</o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s not like that,” he insisted, shaking his head.
Tristan reached out and gently, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gently</i>,
tucked my hair behind my ear. His hand lingered by the side of my face, his
fingers tiptoeing down my neck, thumb tracing the outline of my jaw. I
shivered with desire, entranced by his touch— warm and soft as a midsummer’s
breeze. I almost could’ve imagined it.</span></div>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“Then what’s it like?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Tristan's hands slipped behind my shoulders and pulled
me in. Forehead to forehead. The tips of our noses pressed together. His
blue eyes burning into mine; hungry— like he’d been dying of thirst for
centuries and I was the cool, lapping water that could save him. The
rest of the room faded away. The walls disappeared, as did his four-poster bed
and the armoire in the corner. There was nothing but him, me. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Us. </i>Together on the ottoman. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“It’s like this,” he whispered. He took a deep
breath, tilted my chin up, and pressed his lips to mine. Softly. Earnestly. Our
lips slightly parted, moving and melting in perfect unison. I’d been kissed
plenty of times before, but those kisses were different: wild and desperate,
lustful, with heaving chests and groping hands. This kiss was everything those
weren’t. It was more honest, somehow. Like it actually meant something. Like we
were two halves of one person, coming together at last. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">His hands raked through my hair, riding the dark,
thick waves down my back, fingertips skimming my sides till they found my hips
and drew me in. I leaned into the pressure, eager to close the distance
between us. His fine, satin doublet wrung
through my fingers as I pulled myself onto his lap, as I loosed the silver buttons one by one, revealing his collarbone and chest. He
buried his face in my hair, in my neck, his breath hot and sweet, tingling my
skin as he planted tiny kisses from my ear, along my cheek, and back to my
mouth. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Yes,
yes, yes</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This</i> was what I wanted</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11