Write On

(you're not bitches I love you all)

Anyway, I'm looking for beta readers!

What for, you may ask? It's the third book in my Mobsters and Mayhem Trilogy! (I'm tempted to go into a long-winded detail, but I feel like the tags will do it justice!) I sat here and spat out a blurb (it is definitely not the one going on the book) for anyone who is interested.

The King's Collapse

Rick O'Shea may have inherited his father's empire, but he is the one that turned drugs and stocks into hundreds of millions of dollars and a state-of-the-art facility for the advancement of the human race. The T.C.A.B. is Rick O'Shea's biggest investment and he's going to use it to bring Slater O'Brien to ruin.

Slater O'Brien has never been more desperate. Desperate to get Louis and Lexie back, desperate to escape his life, desperate to put a fucking bullet into Rick O'Shea's head. Revenge is cruel, but waiting for it is worse. He's willing to do whatever it takes to dismantle Rick's empire one stone at a time.

Louis Mahoney has been thrust from one century to another, but he has never been more lost. He has to separate fact from fiction and piece himself back together after having the pieces snatched away. The only certainty in his life is that he hates Rick O'Shea.

Please reblog to boost!

Seeking Beta Readers

It's time!!! A Colder Home is ready for beta readers. This YA horror novel follows Cleo and her friends, a group of amateur filmmakers snowed in at a haunted house. While there's some blood and guts, the horror is mainly emotional... think like the works of Mike Flanagan, with a hint of that specific genre of horror game like P.T. and Devotion.

We're in the final round of developmental edits, which means I'm pretty specific about what kind of feedback I'm looking for. While I do have "guide" questions for each section, overall I'm looking for feedback on pacing, character arcs, scares... basically, making sure everything lands the way it needs to. I am not looking for proofreading, line edits, or anything similar — that comes after developmental edits.

For more information, including trigger warnings and sample chapter, read on!

Title: A Colder Home Age Range: Young Adult Genre: Horror Length: Approx. 70k Deadline for Application: February 7, 2025 at 5 PM EST Deadline for Reading: April 30, 2025

Writeblr Engagement Prompts: "Share an Excerpt" and "Writers' Chat!"

“Share an Excerpt” & “Writers’ Chat” prompts encourage writers to share their writing! Every Monday (until I get tired, forget, or decide to do a different thing), I’ll post a one of the following prompts:

Share an Excerpt

“Share an excerpt” prompts encourage writers to share pieces of their writing! These are similar to the prompts I’ve posted in the past, so if you see me post the same prompt again, no you didn't.

Writers' Chat

“Writers’ Chat’ prompts encourage writers to talk about their writing, whether that means characters, WIPs, or the writing process in general.

For Both:

There’s no expectation, but if you have the time, consider reading and reblogging others’ responses!

The posts are queued for Mondays, but they can be reblogged whenever you want!

Original prompts will be tagged as "share an excerpt prompt" and "writers chat prompt." I'll tag reblogs as "share an excerpt" and "writers chat." This will make it easier to find lists of old prompts.

Share an excerpt that includes an animal, real or metaphorical.

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

Not trusting himself to speak around the lump in his throat, Leon nodded. He followed Padraeg in and then pushed past him and sprinted up the stairs. His feet remembered the path as if he’d walked it yesterday.

Down the hall he ran, ignoring the pangs in his heart as a thousand memories came flooding back. It had been easy to put his concerns aside while he was in that cell, but now that he was here, he found he couldn’t bear waiting a moment longer to see Jackie.

He skidded to a halt, a rug that was older than him bunching up under his feet, in front of a familiar door with an owl carved into the wood. It had been made by a much younger, more foolish boy. One who’d still believed the Templesbane hadn’t destroyed the entire order and could be driven back by blood and blade and with the might of kingdoms behind him.

Share an excerpt that includes an animal, real or metaphorical.

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

Share an excerpt that includes an animal, real or metaphorical.

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

The King's Collapse D1

Slater pulled onto the cracked driveway, hands frozen at ten and two. He didn’t put the car in park. He couldn’t bring himself to switch off the ignition. It took every ounce of self control he had not to back Aunt Jennifer’s SUV out the drive and speed off down the street.

The brown house needed a new coat of paint. An abused pickup truck sat on the driveway next to a slightly-nicer sedan that was a few decades old. Under an ancient carport, there was a mountain of twisted handlebars next to a boat that didn’t seem like it’d seen a lake in years.

Matt sat up in the passenger seat. He squinted at the golden-pink glow of the sunset through the window. “Where are we?”

Slater’s bones were made of iron. He was welded in place. “Brownstone, Kentucky.”

“Kentucky?” he asked. “Why?”

“We needed a place to go and this is the best one.”

Matt still seemed groggy from his nap. He squinted at the house. “Whose house is this?”

The screen door banged open. An ancient knobby-kneed Chihuahua bounded out. Its stunted legs worked just as fast as its mouth. It yipped at the edge of a dandelion-riddled yard. A man joined the dog to the spot where the yard and cracked asphalt driveway met. His brown hair was too long, it brushed his shoulders. The beard around his mouth and chin were dotted with fine white hair. His face was creased with lines Slater didn’t remember.

Share an excerpt that includes a swear.

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

With that being said, have some of the best fucks in The King's Collapse.

“Get out of bed, fuckface.” Slater didn’t move. Just the thought of getting out of bed felt comparable to climbing Everest. He felt like his skull was packed with wet sand. He wished his head had been full of anything but brain matter. Maybe if it were, he wouldn’t hurt like he’d laid down at the intersection of State and Madison and let traffic run him over. “Go away, Matt.”

“Fuck you.” Matt glanced from Slater, back to the cup of coffee, and then pulled it toward him. He took a sip. “No thanks. You’re not my type.” “That’s weird. I thought you had a thing for redheads.”

The square was bustling with people. Pink noses and rosy cheeks poked out of puffy jackets as people posed for pictures in front of the massive Christmas tree in the center of the square. Garland, ornaments, and fake snow filled window displays. Further down the square, kids shrieked as they fell on the ice rink. The piercing donation bells rang over the sounds of Christmas music floating through the air. It was giving him a merry-fucking-migraine.

Slater had been climbing the mountain for a long time, now he was caught in an avalanche and it was only picking up speed. “He hit me! Everything he or mom told you about this —” he jabbed a finger at his brown eye — “was a lie! It was a lie and you ate it up because it was palatable than the truth.” Mike glared at him. “Don’t you fucking dare.” “Dare what? Tell the truth because it hurts to look at it? Sorry, Pops, but life is an ugly-fucking-affair.”

Slater’s eyes wandered back over the scars across Louis’s knuckles. He wanted to use a knife and retrace every single one of them on Rick’s skin. He wanted to make Rick suffer the way he’d made them suffer. “I hate him so fucking much.”

Happy Marketing Monday, the day of the week where I scream to the people of Tumblr that I wrote a book about mobsters who teleport and blow shit up with their minds.

Share an excerpt where a character laughs.

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

Slater took a breath to bolster his courage and stepped into view. He took in Rick’s falling out hair and yellowing skin and let out a low whistle. “Damn. I thought I was looking rough these days, but you look like hell. What have you been doing, stirring your coffee with uranium rods and hoping daddy’s money is enough to turn you into Superman?” 

The way Rick looked at him was the same way someone looked at a man they wished would drop dead where they stood. “That’s big talk coming from a burnt-out junkie with a brain just as broken as his abilities.

It cut deep, but Slater was well versed in keeping his feelings under lock and key. “I’ve buried your business, your business partner, and your little science project. I’ve only got one grave left to fill.” 

The way Rick glared at him scared him shitless, but he was always going to be afraid. After all of this time, Rick was finally standing right there. Slater couldn’t let the opportunity to end this pass him by. There was a good chance he was going to die, anyway. It was now or never. 

Slater spun the handle of the frying pan in his hand. It flashed off the white overhead lights. “You were talking all of that shit. If you want me, come get me.” 

“I’m going squeeze your throat until you turn blue,” Rick snarled, storming across the tiled kitchen.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” Slater met him halfway, swinging his frying pan with as much strength as he could muster. 

Rick turned his body so the frying pan grazed off his shoulder. He let out a furious, pained, sound. 

Slater swung the pan again. 

This time, Rick was ready and jumped out of the way. He pulled up his gun. 

Slater’s stomach felt like it’d been flipped inside out. Shit. 

Rick laughed. It was a cold and dark sound that reminded Slater of skittering claws on stone floors. “Not so cocky now, are we? Strip you of your powers and what’s left? The scared little boy dying for someone to give him the kind of attention he craves.”

That cut deep and Rick knew it. Slater felt a fleeting sense of longing for his apathetic side-effects. He shoved it down deep. He didn’t take his eyes off the gun pointed at him. “You see right through me, don’t you?” 

Share that includes the words "hello" or "goodbye."

Check the reblogs to read others’ responses!

If you’d rather make your own post, no problem!

Louis stared at Slater.

Slater’s breath caught in his chest. His heart stuttered like he saying hello to a crush for the first time. “Louis,” he murmured, voice soft. Please. “Come with us. We just want to talk.”

Fear started to overcome the anger in Louis’s eyes.

Fear was good, fear could be negotiated with. Hatred was an unreasonable tyrant. “Louie?”