A Spotlight from The 131 Preview Review
Title: Going Thru Hell
Author: T.J. Loveless
Description:
The journey through hell begins with one step.
KYLIE RIPPONS is a SpongeBob pajama bottom wearing, Dodge Ram 1500 4x4 driving, USDA certified klutz, coffee-addicted mortal, seeking a normal life despite the constant harassment of gods and the ability to braid time.
Kylie sees actions and consequences as bright, shining timelines in her head. Born with the power to gather the strings and braid them into a new chain of events, she is the weapon of choice for many pantheons in their never ending wars. But using the ability requires fuel, and for a mortal, it means a piece of her soul.
Excerpt:
I wanted to bang my head on the desk, but the boss would charge for damages.
Glancing around the tiny cubicle, I tried to find anything heavy to throw at the gabby and arrogant immortal. He'd only laugh at any pathetic attempt to shut him up with pencil holders and files. The PC tower might work. I shook my head, the paycheck didn’t need a hit.
The gray padded walls and built in desk didn’t allow for much, and I regretted not keeping at least a picture frame or two. The edges might cause him to give a funny yelp. He might not like it, but I’d be entertained.
To make matters worse, the immortal in question couldn't be seen by anyone else. By staying in the fourth dimension, beyond mortal senses, Amun pestered me while normal humans remained ignorant of the truth.
I’d give almost anything to be normal.
I pulled my purse from under the desk, rummaging for objects to use as missiles. I gave up. Co-workers would have great stories of me throwing various objects at thin air. Last Christmas party notwithstanding, I didn't need more rumors circulating.
“Go. Away.” I narrowed my eyes. Tall, muscular and handsome, Amun was built like other male immortals I'd had the displeasure of meeting. The only difference seen in the bronze skin, beautiful mahogany colored eyes, and straight black hair. He always wore a stupid St. Louis Rams t-shirt, both wrists encircled by badly inked ram tats. Perfect picture of an idiot.
“Why should I endeavor to please you?” His voice silky smooth, making promises I knew he would never keep.
“Did it ever occur to your ego-filled, arrogant mind to be nice?”
“No. I am a god. You should do as you are bid.”
“You lose. Get out. No deal.”
I pulled up the latest Excel spreadsheet, inserted ear buds, and cranked the MP3 player to drown his ranting. A deep breath, and I concentrated on the computer. Four accounts to reconcile today, I didn't need the constant distractions of immortals. Despite the job’s monotony, I needed to pay bills. Eat, buy chocolate and a daily triple shot mocha latte, essentials to my sanity.
Amun wasn’t the only one pestering me, various immortals visited through the day. All wanted the same thing they’ve demanded since puberty hit fifteen years ago. To use the rare, inherited genetic mutation giving an ability no human, or immortal, should possess under any circumstance.
Anger bubbled below my skin, the need to lash out bringing several bright threads of various timelines to the forefront of the inner boob tube. Instinct pushed hard, to rid them with a floor show. Logic reminded me of the cost. I swallowed and concentrated. Far greater stakes sat on the table.
Glancing around the tiny cubicle, I tried to find anything heavy to throw at the gabby and arrogant immortal. He'd only laugh at any pathetic attempt to shut him up with pencil holders and files. The PC tower might work. I shook my head, the paycheck didn’t need a hit.
The gray padded walls and built in desk didn’t allow for much, and I regretted not keeping at least a picture frame or two. The edges might cause him to give a funny yelp. He might not like it, but I’d be entertained.
To make matters worse, the immortal in question couldn't be seen by anyone else. By staying in the fourth dimension, beyond mortal senses, Amun pestered me while normal humans remained ignorant of the truth.
I’d give almost anything to be normal.
I pulled my purse from under the desk, rummaging for objects to use as missiles. I gave up. Co-workers would have great stories of me throwing various objects at thin air. Last Christmas party notwithstanding, I didn't need more rumors circulating.
“Go. Away.” I narrowed my eyes. Tall, muscular and handsome, Amun was built like other male immortals I'd had the displeasure of meeting. The only difference seen in the bronze skin, beautiful mahogany colored eyes, and straight black hair. He always wore a stupid St. Louis Rams t-shirt, both wrists encircled by badly inked ram tats. Perfect picture of an idiot.
“Why should I endeavor to please you?” His voice silky smooth, making promises I knew he would never keep.
“Did it ever occur to your ego-filled, arrogant mind to be nice?”
“No. I am a god. You should do as you are bid.”
“You lose. Get out. No deal.”
I pulled up the latest Excel spreadsheet, inserted ear buds, and cranked the MP3 player to drown his ranting. A deep breath, and I concentrated on the computer. Four accounts to reconcile today, I didn't need the constant distractions of immortals. Despite the job’s monotony, I needed to pay bills. Eat, buy chocolate and a daily triple shot mocha latte, essentials to my sanity.
Amun wasn’t the only one pestering me, various immortals visited through the day. All wanted the same thing they’ve demanded since puberty hit fifteen years ago. To use the rare, inherited genetic mutation giving an ability no human, or immortal, should possess under any circumstance.
Anger bubbled below my skin, the need to lash out bringing several bright threads of various timelines to the forefront of the inner boob tube. Instinct pushed hard, to rid them with a floor show. Logic reminded me of the cost. I swallowed and concentrated. Far greater stakes sat on the table.
About the Author:
Born in Anchorage, I've lived ... well ... everywhere. From the Arctic Circle to a block from the beaches in Florida. I speak fluent Arkansas Hillbilly, make a mean gumbo, can sew when necessary and am a whiz at packing.
Life's unexpected twists and turns have led me down paths from shoveling water to build roads, correctional officer at a men's maximum security unit, to helping do the research and co-authoring the scientific paper regarding dyslexia and genetic inheritance. I've met a lot of wonderful people along the way, and a few I'd prefer to forget. But always grateful for what I learned.
I'm also a copy/content editor, and found I love helping a story idea turn into a book, ready to be distributed to those that need the story. I enjoy helping others in their journey, even as I continue on mine. So many things to learn!
You'll generally find a Muse snuggled to my hip, the other one laying across my shoulders and Editor Kitty staring at the screen, waiting for the red ink to make an appearance. Once it does, he lays across the keyboard purring.
The family brags about the latest compromising position I've been found in, trying to figure out how to truly describe "legs all akimbo" or if falling on the couch could truly land a body in a certain position. They ignore my yelling at characters on the computer screen, and are forgiving when I accidentally write past the time for them to eat. It's one way of teaching the teenager to cook ...
Author Links:
* Author Website * Blog * Facebook * Twitter * Google+ * Goodreads ** Cliffhanger Editing * Black Firefly *
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