YA MYSTERY WITH A SPLASH OF ROMANCE? ARE YOU IN?

On July 1, I’m releasing my young adult novel, THOSE WHO SURVIVED, which is the first book in the the DUDE GOODFEATHER series.

Check it out.

The Dude Goodfeather Series - YA mystery by NYT bestseller Carrie Jones
The Dude Goodfeather Series – YA mystery by NYT bestseller Carrie Jones

It looks pretty cool. right?

The lead character in this is Dude Goodfeather. Her real name is Jess. Her dad calls her Dude and that means everyone else does, too. I’m so into her. I hope you will be too.

Blurb:

They aren’t the most popular. They aren’t the prettiest. They aren’t the wealthiest, but they are the smartest and as the kids in the ‘gifted’ program move through their senior year, they have their lives all ahead of them.

Until they don’t . . .

Quirky and psychology-obsessed high school senior Jessica “Dude” Goodfeather isn’t having her best time senior year after her best friend and boyfriend both dump her, but when she finds the dead and mutilated body of Lucas Landry? Things get a whole lot worse.

Is someone she knows the killer?

Someone is picking off Dude’s classmates, one by one. And she’s pretty sure that she’s next.

Join New York Times and internationally bestselling author Carrie Jones in the first book of the Dude Mystery Series as it combines the excitement of a thriller with the first-hand immediacy and quirky heroines that Jones is known for.

The next Book comes out in September and it’s called INCH WORMS.

To find out more about the series, click here.

But here’s an excerpt. I hope you’ll read it, like it, and buy it! That’s me marketing. 🙂 Sort of?


Chapter One

Paranoia

An intense feeling of fear or anxiety that usually has to do with personal persecution or belief in threats and conspiracies

Everything people say about me is true. I’m neurotic and obsessed with psychology terms because of my own sad toddler years. I always expect the worst case scenario for myself but never for other people. Pathetic, I know. It’s like I’m always expecting something bad to happen, and I’m terrified of being caught off guard and not being prepared for when it does.

This morning, when my cat Misfit wakes me up, I know something is wrong right away. It’s like a gut feeling. It’s like all my worries have become reality.

“You’re worst-case scenario. You have to believe in yourself, in the power of your own brain,” Dad told me last night when I was stressed about potentially not getting into any colleges. He was making vegan gumbo and waved his wooden spoon at our cat who was passed out belly-up in the kitchen sink. “Seriously, you’ve got to chill-ax. Look at Misfit. Be like Misfit.”

Be like Misfit?

            Because right now Misfit’s mewling the way cats do when they are freaking out about something terribly important in the kitty world like whether or not there is exactly .75 cups of cat food in their dish that is spaced exactly one inch out from the northeast corner of the bathroom wall. 

The mewling? That’s the first clue.

            “What is it, buddy?” I mutter, blinking hard against the morning light as Misfit moves across the bed covers and up to my face. She headbutts my chin with her nose.

            I’d been dreaming about Alexis and me when we were little and still best friends. We had been jumping off the dock into the river, giggling, and then the dream shifted so that Alexis was drowning in the water, blood coming out of her belly button. This did not happen in real life. Alexis is alive and well and now best friends with Samantha, and not me. I’m a little bitter about this honestly. Bitter and lonely.

Misfit refuses to let me go back to the dream and pushes against my face again. Cat fur tickles my lips and nose.

Sneezing, I say, “Buddy. Dad can feed you.”

            Then I remember that Dad doesn’t ever feed her because he’s one of the most forgetful humans of all time, and then I remember that he’s not even home. He left at midnight, off for a three-day trip to a con in Boston, a science fiction con, because he has this little side job where he self-publishes his own graphic novels.

            “Crud,” I mumble as Misfit thumps off the bed, thudding to the ground, right by a dead mouse. A tiny spot of blood mars the brown fur of its tiny stomach.

            Misfit purrs and sort of nudges it a little closer to my bed.

            I wish, occasionally, my gut would be wrong. 

            Moving backward toward my headboard, I grab for my phone by my pillow, but it’s not there. It’s always there, but instead there’s just my charger, flapping around. I’m positive that I connected it last night.

            This is the second clue.

            The third clue is that my door is shut. I’m not sure how Misfit even got in the room with her mouse, and that’s not the point. The point is that the door is shut.

            My door is never shut because ever since I was little having a shut door has completely freaked me out. That’s because I always used to imagine monsters lurking behind the doorknob. Everyone judges me about that.

But Misfit could have shut it maybe? Batted it closed with her immense kitty paws.

She leaps up onto my bed, thankfully leaving the mouse on the floor, and I grab her to my chest. She purrs again. It’s comforting.

            “I freak myself out too much,” I murmur. “You bringing dead mice as presents doesn’t help, buddy. No offense.”

            She starts kneading at my lap, and I sigh. I’m not sure why I forgot to plug in my cellphone last night, but I use it to tell the time and set the alarm to wake me up and now I have no idea if I’m late for school or not. I blink hard. I was positive that I set the alarm last night because I was thinking about how Dad wasn’t going to be here today.

Fourth clue?

The weirdness of it all hits me as I lift Misfit up a bit so that I can set her down next to me on the covers. She protests and puts her claws into the quilt, but I still manage to move her. Resisting the urge to close my eyes and ignore the mouse, I lean over the bed, hoping my phone just fell somewhere.

            Nothing. It’s just a dead mouse, schoolbooks, art supplies, and socks.

            “Great.”

            The only other thing I can think is that maybe I took my phone with me in the middle of the night when I went to the bathroom. Sure, I don’t actually remember going to the bathroom, but the cellphone is pretty awesome because it has a flashlight. I use that app all the time.

            Vaulting off the bed so that I land nowhere near the mouse, I head toward the bedroom door, yank it open and gasp.

            There’s someone standing there right outside my door.

            I slam my door back closed and lock it.

            My mouth drops wide open.

            I don’t need any more clues.

            That’s because the someone lurking outside my room is not my dad or my former best friend Alexis or my current best friend Rebecca. That someone is not a ghost or a figment of my imagination.

            It’s a human being. And it’s wearing a ski mask.

            Reflexively, I shove my dresser against the door, which opens inward. It opens inward, so that means that the person out there can’t come in if the dresser is blocking the way. Right? Panic starts.

There is someone outside.

            I repeat this fact over and over again in my head.

            Someone is outside my door.

            Someone should not be there.

            I can’t let them in.

            Searching for my phone again, I survey the room, but the phone is missing, which means that I can’t call for help. My laptop! I put it in my bag last night after I was done cruising through posts about college application essays. Running, I grab my bag even though it’s super close to the mouse.

            My laptop is gone.

            I can’t email anyone for help.

            I can’t Skype the police or whatever.

            I’m trapped and there’s only one thing to do to escape. I yank open the window by my bed. I’m on the second floor, but it doesn’t matter. There’s an overhanging roof over the downstairs master bathroom, which connects to the porch. It’s mossy, but it’s a way out.

            “Misfit!” I mutter and snap my fingers. She actually springs out the window onto the roof. She springs to the ground, making it look easy, like hopping ten feet to the grass is not a big deal at all. I scoot as quickly as I can down the angled roof and jump. The ground thuds beneath my feet, and adrenalin pops me right back into standing position. I scoop Misfit up in my arms and run through the woods.

            Don’t follow me. Don’t follow me. Don’t follow me.

            I’m not sure if I’m saying this aloud or not. I’m not sure if the sentence is a command or a prayer or a mantra. The pine needles sting my naked feet. Stones and roots scratch at me. I trip and Misfit bounds out of my arms as I fall down. One second down and I’m up again, running for our neighbor’s house. The houses here on the Union River aren’t close, which I normally like because nobody wants to hear their neighbors’ music or yelling or whatever, but right now I’d give anything to live in a crowded subdivision.

            Misfit veers off toward the river, but I run forward to the Saunders’ house. I pound on the door. Nobody comes. There’s noise behind me. And I see them—him—her —whatever—the person running through the woods toward me.

            I pound again.

            No answer.

            There’s no time.

            The Saunders have a dock and a kayak, just like we do. Praying that they don’t have a lock on the kayak, I rush to my right, downhill toward the river, tumbling and screaming. The dock is about fifty feet of wood planks out toward the water. The tide is lowish and the kayak is tied up at the end. I run as fast as I can toward it. The dock bounces with every footfall. Misfit is nowhere in sight, but the intruder? He’s halfway down the hill. He’ll be here soon and then … and then …

            The yellow cord attaching the kayak to the dock is just a half-hitch and I yank it off with my shaking hands. Two seconds later, I’m unhooking the rudder, dropping it into the water. Two seconds more and I’m hopping into the kayak’s cockpit. It rocks, but doesn’t turn over. There is no paddle. No paddle. I tuck the rope up between the lines on the front of the cockpit to get it out of the river. Water sloshes onto my pajama shorts. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting away. How do I get away without a paddle?

            Using my hands, I push off the dock sideways as hard as I can. The river mud waits in front of me. The person is on the dock, running toward me. The ski mask obscures the hair, the face. Whoever it is isn’t big. That’s all I get. They are not big.

            The tide takes the kayak. It’s coming in, away from the ocean, and toward town. I hit the foot pedal hard to steer the kayak, make it face the right way, and then the river does its work, pushing us out and into the middle, pulling the kayak and me away from the person on the dock. I look back. I’m so afraid they have a gun. I’m so afraid they’ll go unlock our kayaks from our dock, somehow, like they’ll know enough to know where Dad puts the keys.

            But they don’t.

            The intruder stands at the end of the dock and watches for a second. Then they lift their hand like they’re going to wave. Instead, they give me the finger.

            I face forward and start hyperventilating, but I don’t cry. I never cry. Not since my mom left at least. And that was a long time ago.


Upcoming Books!

See I’m committed! One book a month for the rest of the year.

And it’s so scary!

June – THE PEOPLE WHO KILLAdult mystery. Second in the Bar Harbor Rose Series

July –THOSE WHO SURVIVED – YA murder mystery. First in the DUDE SERIES!

August – SAINT, YA paranormal

September – INCH WORMS! Second in the DUDE SERIES!

October – THE TREASURES WE HIDE. Third in the Bar Harbor Rose Series.

November – ALMOST DEAD, an adult paranormal

December – NECROMANCER, YA paranormal – This title might change. 🙂

PODCASTS

Oh! And check out our podcasts when you get a chance. There are writing tips and life tips on DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE and just a freer flow of weirdness on our very live LOVING THE STRANGE. It’s live on Twitter, Facebook and YouTube at 7 p.m. EST, on Fridays.

BE A PART OF OUR MISSION!

Hey! We’re all about inspiring each other to be weird, to be ourselves and to be brave and we’re starting to collect stories about each other’s bravery. Those brave moments can be HUGE or small, but we want you to share them with us so we can share them with the world. You can be anonymous if you aren’t brave enough to use your name. It’s totally chill.

Want to be part of the team? Send us a quick (or long) email and we’ll read it here and on our YouTube channel.

LET’S HANG OUT!

HEY! DO YOU WANT TO SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER?

MAYBE TAKE A COURSE, CHILL ON SOCIAL MEDIA, BUY ART OR A BOOK, OR LISTEN TO OUR PODCAST?

JUST CLICK ON THIS LINK AND FIND OUT HOW WE CAN INTERACT MORE.


HELP US AND DO AN AWESOME GOOD DEED

Thanks to all of you who keep listening to our weirdness on the DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE podcast and our new LOVING THE STRANGE podcast.

We’re sorry we laugh so much… sort of. 


Please share it and subscribe if you can. Please rate and like us if you are feeling kind, because it matters somehow. There’s a new episode every Tuesday!

Thanks so much for being one of the 261,000 downloads if you’ve given us a listen!

One of our newest LOVING THE STRANGE podcasts is about the strange and adorably weird things people say?

And one of our newest DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE episode is about fear setting and how being swallowed by a whale is bad ass.


And Carrie has a new book out! Yay!

You can order now! It’s an adult mystery/thriller that takes place in Bar Harbor, Maine. Read an excerpt here!

best thrillers The People Who Kill
The people who kill

It’s my book! It came out June 1! Boo-yah! Another one comes out July 1.

And that one is called  THOSE WHO SURVIVED, which is the first book in the the DUDE GOODFEATHER series.  I hope you’ll read it, like it, and buy it!

The Dude Goodfeather Series - YA mystery by NYT bestseller Carrie Jones
The Dude Goodfeather Series – YA mystery by NYT bestseller Carrie Jones

TO TELL US YOUR BRAVE STORY JUST EMAIL BELOW.

A Book Is Almost Born! Thank you all so much.

So, tomorrow, my little book THE PEOPLE WHO KILL will be in the world.

I’m not sure why I’m so haunted by this group of characters and why I get so much more anxious about these books than my others, but I really do.

Thank you so much for reading it. Your reading allows me to keep writing. So thank you. Thank you a million trillion times over.

This year was quite a year for me to get out there. It started as a love story for my husband and my little girl and my town and became something beyond any of us and especially beyond me. Fiction is so much fun that way. I hope you check it out. And thank you so much for your support. Being a writer means everything to me.

Xo

Carrie

It’s the second book in the Bar Harbor Rose Mystery series is called THE PEOPLE WHO KILL.

You can read an excerpt here. I had the best time writing it. You can order it here.

Sometimes it seems like everyone wants someone to die . . . .

After dealing with a serial killer and a long Maine winter, Rosie Jones is ready for a little bit of calm in her adopted coastal Maine town. Then Ernie Emerson, a ladies man and newly married cop, is bludgeoned to death outside a summer estate in what many think was a robbery gone wrong.

But Rosie soon realizes that a lot of people, including the fired town manager, had some pretty powerful reasons to want Ernie dead.

The death of Ernie brings a whole lot of repercussions for Rosie. She might be losing her reporting job. There’s all kinds of tension with her still-not-divorced, sort-of-boyfriend, Seamus Kelley, and her snooping is potentially making her the killer’s next target.

Hoping to solve the crime before she gets hurt any more, Rosie starts to put the pieces together. But that’s not that easy when nobody, including Seamus, wants her to do law enforcement’s job and solve the murder of one of their own.

My next book? It’s in July and it’s called THOSE WHO SURVIVED and it’s a YA murder mystery.

best young adult mysteries
New Carrie Jones Young Adult Mystery

Be Brave Friday: New Book, New Direction.

I hope we can all be brave, hold each other up, grab each other’s hands and make something good today.

If you’ve read my Be Brave Friday posts before, you know I have a hard time sharing my art because … parents. I love them and they were great humans, but they laughed off my artistic tendencies, which is fine! You can only look at your kid’s Snoopy and Garfield crayon drawing so many times.

I can still hear my mom’s voice say, “Nobody in this family has an artistic bone in their body.”

That resonated.


And somehow sharing art always makes me feel so vulnerable. Here’s what I’m working on right now.

It’s not done yet.

Speaking of vulnerable, I’m starting to publish a whole slew of books myself because it’s:

  • A challenge
  • Fun because it’s a challenge
  • Terrifying.
  • I am apparently addicted to stress and to writing. Who knew? Everyone. Everyone knew.

Keeps me more connected with my readers than traditional publishing.

I am still going to be traditional publishing! Do not worry!

But putting out books all by myself? It’s weirdly empowering and absolutely terrifying and I’m all about evolving, right? I mean, I don’t have a ton of time left on the Earth so I need to make the most of it.

best thrillers The People Who Kill
The people who kill

The second book in the Bar Harbor Rose Mystery series is called THE PEOPLE WHO KILL.

You can read an excerpt here. I had the best time writing it. You can preorder it here.

Sometimes it seems like everyone wants someone to die . . . .

After dealing with a serial killer and a long Maine winter, Rosie Jones is ready for a little bit of calm in her adopted coastal Maine town. Then Ernie Emerson, a ladies man and newly married cop, is bludgeoned to death outside a summer estate in what many think was a robbery gone wrong.

But Rosie soon realizes that a lot of people, including the fired town manager, had some pretty powerful reasons to want Ernie dead.

The death of Ernie brings a whole lot of repercussions for Rosie. She might be losing her reporting job. There’s all kinds of tension with her still-not-divorced, sort-of-boyfriend, Seamus Kelley, and her snooping is potentially making her the killer’s next target.

Hoping to solve the crime before she gets hurt any more, Rosie starts to put the pieces together. But that’s not that easy when nobody, including Seamus, wants her to do law enforcement’s job and solve the murder of one of their own.

Upcoming Books! See I’m committed! And it’s so scary!

July – THOSE WHO SURVIVED – YA murder mystery.

August – A YA paranormal

September – The sequel to July’s murder mystery! So YA/NA mystery.

October – THE TREASURES WE HIDE.

November – Adult paranormal

December – YA paranornal

Oh! And check out podcasts when you get a chance. There are writing tips and life tips on DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE and just a freer flow of weirdness on our very live LOVING THE STRANGE. Tonight at 7 p.m. EST, we’ll be going a bit deeper into alien abductions.

New Book Coming Out Super Soon

So, I’m releasing the second book in the Bar Harbor Rose Mystery Series on June 1 and I’m super excited about it because:

  • I love writing adult stories, too.
  • It takes place in Bar Harbor.
  • It’s full of thrilling fun stuff.
  • I’m really into.
  • Independent publishing is so much fun.

The first book in the series came out last year. It’s called THE PLACES WE HIDE. You can read the first chapter here.

The second book is called THE PEOPLE WHO KILL.

You can read an excerpt here.

Sometimes it seems like everyone wants someone to die . . . .

After dealing with a serial killer and a long Maine winter, Rosie Jones is ready for a little bit of calm in her adopted coastal Maine town. Then Ernie Emerson, a ladies man and newly married cop, is bludgeoned to death outside a summer estate in what many think was a robbery gone wrong.

But Rosie soon realizes that a lot of people, including the fired town manager, had some pretty powerful reasons to want Ernie dead.

The death of Ernie brings a whole lot of repercussions for Rosie. She might be losing her reporting job. There’s all kinds of tension with her still-not-divorced, sort-of-boyfriend, Seamus Kelley, and her snooping is potentially making her the killer’s next target.

Hoping to solve the crime before she gets hurt any more, Rosie starts to put the pieces together. But that’s not that easy when nobody, including Seamus, wants her to do lawn enforcement’s job and solve the murder of one of their own.

The third book will come out October 1 and it’s called THE THINGS WE SEEK.

Here’s what it’s about.

Sometimes the treasure is not worth the hunt . . . .

Reporter Rosie Jones and Sergeant Seamus Kelley have dealt with two gruesome murderers in their short time together and are finally ready to focus on their romance. When a few random people go missing on their large Maine island, things seem like they’ve gone terribly wrong. Again. What at first seems like a fun treasure hunt soon turns into something much more sinister . . . and they learn that things are not yet safe on their island or in their world. If they want to keep more people from going missing, Rosie and Seamus have to crack the puzzle before it’s too late.

And between June and October, I’m going to be releasing a book a month (or so).

Most of them are YA, but they are all really fun. If you were a fan of my NEED books, I think you’ll really like these.

I’m really super excited about all of this!

If you’d like to know everything that’s happening and keep updated on all my book releases, you can subscribe to my blog on the button to the right (which would be super nice of you to do) and/or sign up for my newsletter.

Thank you all so much for your kindness and support! It means everything to me.

Upcoming Books:

July – THOSE WHO SURVIVED – YA murder mystery.

August – A YA paranormal

September – The sequel to July’s murder mystery! So YA/NA mystery.

October – THE TREASURES WE HIDE.

November – Adult paranormal

December – YA paranornal

Oh! And check out podcasts when you get a chance. There are writing tips and life tips on DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE and just a freer flow of weirdness on our very live LOVING THE STRANGE.

THE PEOPLE WHO KILL

Hey, everyone! I realized that I never do book excerpts on here. I know! I know, right? What kind of author am I? Apparently, I am an author who fails to market.

But here’s an excerpt. I hope you’ll read it, like it, and buy it! That’s me marketing. 🙂

The People Who Kill

He had thought things would be easier further south, closer to the ocean. Not that Downeast Maine was exactly south. But at 44.3858 degrees north and 68.2094 west, it sure felt more south than snow-blown Fort Kent (47.2586 degrees north, 68.5894 west). Even with all the hell breaking lose in his job and his personal life, Fort Kent and its barely there year-round population of four-thousand souls didn’t have much to offer unless you were into dog sledding, Canadian biathlons, rooting for the basketball teams of Valley Rivers Middle School and Fort Kent High School.

            He was not into any of that.

            He’d expected better things when he left his job as an officer on the Fort Kent police force and headed to the Hancock County Sheriff’s Department. That county had drunk tourists in the summer and heroin busts in the winter, but on his first day he crashed the cruiser. His second day, a deer hit another cruiser. On his third day, he made out with the shortest dispatcher in the bathroom behind the booking room. On this fourth day, he did the same with the tallest dispatcher, made a running date with the night-shift girl who just had a baby, and a sushi date with another cop.

            It didn’t earn him any friends in the department that was for sure. He switched jobs again becoming an officer in Bar Harbor, a tourist town on a big Maine island. Cruising right now, on the mean streets of the town, he knew he hadn’t made any friends there, either. And he’d been on the island what? Nine months? The length of a pregnancy. Lord if he knew where he could go next. Out of state maybe? But who would hire him when the longest he ever stayed was eighteen months and everywhere he left behind had tally sheets and personnel records and stories.

            Did you hear about Ernie? Yep. Caught a wild turkey taking a crap on the cruiser and shot it.

            Did you hear about Ernie? Ran right into a dumpster looking at a girl’s legs.

            Did you hear about Ernie? Heard he puts more product in his hair than Walgreens has in stock. Had to back order American Crew Defining Paste Medium Hold with Low Shine just for him.

            Did you hear about Ernie? Got the town manager’s daughter pregnant two months before his own wedding.

            Yeah.

            Did you hear about Ernie? Responded to a call about the same town manager pissing all over the side of his Subaru parked at the library afterhours and let him go even though it smelled like alcohol. Why? Cause he was too intimidated! What kind of cop is that?

            A bad cop. That’s what kind. He knew it. He was scared of the town manager, scared of arresting him, scared of his chief, scarred of pretty much everything.

            And the Mount Desert cops ended up arresting the town manager thirty minutes later, the moment he crossed the town line. Good times. Not.

            And here he was cruising down the Eagle Lake Road, still employed, thankfully, still married—maybe thankfully—and still miserable and the laughing stock of an entire community. During the appeal of his firing, the manager announced that he and Ernie had “hard feelings” because the newly married Ernie was having an affair with his daughter.  The newspaper reported it. At least that was all the administrator had said, because that wasn’t even half of it. Ernie exhaled, longing for some gum. He would stop by the Circle K later and pick some up. Most of the guys still chewed tobacco, which he thought was nasty, mostly because it turned teeth yellow and then brown. He had his teeth bleached, his fiancé insisted, and he had to admit he looked better than ever. A new break. A new start. That’s what he needed.

            Maine was a godforsaken state full of nasty people swilling coffee brandy by the gallon, chewing tobacco and spitting it into Pepsi cans. In 1838, there had been an ‘international incident’ up in the county where he came from when the boundary of New Brunswick, Canada was in dispute. Militias were formed on both sides with each side alternately capturing the captain of the other side, declaring captives “political prisoners,” and basically bullshitting about for a year. It was called the Pork and Beans War. Ernie’s great-great grandfather was in the militia. All that back and forth, political bullshit reminded him of Bar Harbor and the whole scandal about the town manager. People talked, took sides, switched sides, and nothing much happened except that the manager lost his job—for now. Lord knows, he was fighting to get it back. It didn’t matter that he was a drunken, carousing, womanizer – so adulterous that it made Ernie look like Mother Teresa by comparison. Ernie’s cheek twitched. He checked the rearview mirror. Nothing coming eastbound. Nothing coming westbound. It was such a boring night. It felt like the whole island was deserted, kind of like some sort of zombie apocalypse had just happened. The other officers were always talking about apocalypse scenarios and even had go-bags, rations. They lived in fear, stupid and paranoid. Ernie refused to be like them. A bitter cough escaped his mouth. Look where that refusal had gotten him. He was the laughing stock of the universe basically.

            The dispatcher’s voice broke the silence in the cruiser’s cabin. “Base to 412.”

            He keyed the radio. “412.”

            “Northeast Harbor Alarm reports an activated sensor alarm at 12 Bayberry, interior motion. 10-3.” The dispatcher, this dispatcher, always sounded scared on the radio like she was going to mess up majorly, but that had already happened, hadn’t it? It happened the day she changed the call for service on the town manager’s incident, trying to cover for Ernie. Jasmine was good shit. He’d had a thing with her too in the evidence room. He could hardly help it. She was always talking about cooking naked and her new husband that didn’t love her.

            Ernie sighed and turned the car around in a perfect U-turn, missing two deer that were staring at him from the side of the road. No points for that, huh? Nobody ever cares when you do things right. It’s only when you do things wrong that . . .

            “10-4,” he said into the radio. “Enroute.” 

            The wind whipped around the trees tonight and whenever that happened the super sensitive sensors at the ultra-rich’s summer homes always went off. This was his what? Fourth alarm this shift. Always a pain in the ass. You had to do a perimeter check of the property, search for unsecured windows and doors and then wait for the key holder (usually a caretaker who lived off island) to come and reset the alarm system. Fun. Fun.

            Maybe they could just move back to Fort Kent.

            Maybe they could move out of state. He heard about George West, this game warden who allegedly had an affair with Jasmine, too. Anyway, he and his wife (totally insane – made Morgan look normal) got back together after a year and he just took a sweet job working security at SeaWorld in Florida.

            A smile transformed Ernie’s face. Warm all year long. No snow ever. Tank tops. Short shorts. Bright teeth.

            He would bring it up as an idea. Morgan wouldn’t like being so far from family, but they were four hours away already. A quick plane ride for visiting. There was probably even a direct flight from Bangor to Orlando? There used to be.

            “Brilliant question,” he muttered as he pulled through downtown Bar Harbor. Half the shops were still boarded up, closed for winter, but it was mid-March and things would start opening up soon. Every year it was as if the town belched out all its visitors, closed its doors and hibernated, an introvert that couldn’t handle the influx of a million hiking, biking, driving, cranky families meant to enjoy the views of Acadia National Park.  

            Turning the cruiser off Main, past Mount Desert Island Hospital, he passed the boarded-up Mt. Desert Island Ice Cream shop where President Obama stopped and had a cone one summer. Or maybe it was a dish. He couldn’t remember. He was not a detail man. He was a big picture kind of guy. He turned left onto Livingston, past the wrought iron gates of the Faltin house. They were benefactors of the hospital’s in-patient care center, heirs to the Yummy Moore fortune and former “friends” of the manager. They had deserted him after he was put on leave. Most people had. John King was a bitter, angry, powerful alcoholic who liked to gamble and make people crumble with a perfect barb or insult. Imagine Sherlock with one eighth as much brains and even more of a sociopath, add in sexual addiction, and that was the town manager. Even now people were too scared of him to not support him and his cowboy ways.

            Even though it was just off of the town proper, one block deep towards the ocean and Livingston Road quickly became tree lined. At its end and to the right, was the gate to the Faltin property, manned by a gate house. On the left was Bayberry Lane.  The private driveways meandered from the right of the main road down towards the oceanfront property. Twelve Bayberry Road was just like the other three houses that lined the ocean’s rocky shore—huge, shingle-style, with the porches tucked under the footprint of the main structure. Even the porches get cold here, Ernie thought. The mansions seem to match the craggy coast—flinty, rugged, masculine.

            “I hate this f-ing place,” he muttered as he passed the concrete pillars marking the entrance of the drive, which circled to the front of the house. He could never remember if you were supposed to drive in clockwise or counterclockwise, but one way would always get you stuck. He chose counter clockwise and called in his location to Jasmine. “Yeah, I’ll be off at 12 Bayberry. Nothing currently showing at this time. I can hear the alarm. “

            “10-4.”

            Ernie stayed in the car another minute, hesitant to go out in the cold. March was way too damn cold this year. He wished people would stop calling the weather changes global warming and call it climate change. He wanted his own damn climate change. That was for sure. He keyed the microphone. “You made any contact with the key holder?”

            Jasmine had an unfortunate tendency to forget to call the key holders and another unfortunate tendency to forget to inform the officers that the key holders had been called. But this time she said, “Affirmative. Ted White is in route. Estimated time fifteen minutes.”

            “10-4.” Ernie rolled his eyes even though nobody was there to see it. Saying ‘affirmative’ didn’t make her a better dispatcher. It just made her sound like she was trying to show off. It made her feel special or something, he guessed.  He didn’t begrudge her that. Everyone wanted to feel special. Even him. Especially him. Isn’t that why he fell for Jessica King in the first place. It wasn’t just because she was hot. There were a ton of hot girls out there. Well, there were a lot in the summer. He liked her because she made him feel special and on fire, sexy, not like a pretty boy but a man. It didn’t matter now. What mattered now was moving on. He undid his seatbelt and keyed the mic again.  “I’ll be out of the car on portable.”

            The mountains wreaked havoc on the portables’ signals. It was always good to remind the less intelligent dispatchers about this. Plus, it was policy.

            “10-4,” Jasmine replied in a super sultry way.

            He was not attracted to Jasmine. She was skinny and everything, but she looked like she spent a lot of time making duck-lipped selfies where she always looked so much better than in real life. Still couldn’t hide her crazy eyes though. That had been a mistake. So many mistakes.

            He opened the driver’s side door and stood up, only thinking about turning on his blues at the last second. Ted White was a firefighter, so he decided to. He didn’t want Ted to complain. His personnel file was large enough as it was. One quick reach back inside and the lights were on, illuminating the driveway, the hard, frozen ground devoid of snow. There would be no obvious footprints. Not like there was a real burglar anyway. These things were always false alarms. Always. And with the way the wind was blowing there was no chance it could be real.  All Ernie could think about was the cold as he grabbed the edge of the cruiser door to shut it. He would definitely talk to Morgan about Florida. Getting away from all this cold, all this gossip, was probably exactly what they needed.

            He took two steps towards the house before the pain came, smashing against the back of his head. His perfectly white teeth hit the hard ground, one chipped, another broke in half from the impact. It didn’t matter. Another blow smashed against the side of his face. Then another. Then another. He never had a chance to draw his weapon or open his eyes. Never had a chance to see who killed him and then who walked the stone steps to the main building, smashed a window, then turned and walked away, never looking back to make sure that he was gone.

            He was.

What Happens to Your Mom When You Hit the NYT Bestsellers List

So, I thought I should tell this story about what happened with my mom when my books debuted on the NYT Bestseller Kids Lists. This was back when my mom was alive and everything.

First off, I should probably say for the five years or so before this my mom had been super sick with diabetes and all these horrible complications from it. She’d almost died a couple times. She’d been in the hospital a ton. And basically, that stunk.

The point is that she’d been through a lot.  

And when she called me after hearing the news about the whole New York Times thing she screamed into the phone, “Oh my gosh. Ohmygosh. Oh God, Carrie. I’m hyper. I’m hyperventilating. I’m hyperventilating I’m so excited. Oh my gosh, I’m hyperventilating. I am so proud of you. Oh, I am so very very proud of you.”

Which pretty much cracked me up because it was cute!

Anyway, she had to get infusions or transfusions or something that same week.

She talked to the lab tech/nurse lady one day (the day before the NYT thing) and then the lady called back the next day after my mom had learned.

The woman who was super nice said, “Betty? What’s going on? Something happened. Your voice is different.”

At this point my mother had her prou- mom moment and told her. The woman was all excited for her. It was hard not to be excited for my mother. 

My mother’s appointment was the next day and when she walked into the waiting room the receptionist said in a frantic tone, “She’s here! Betty’s here.” 

Then everyone who worked at the lab came out and started applauding as my mom walked to the check-in desk.

One of them, she said, yelled, “It’s the mother of the New York Times bestselling author.”

So, I have to say three things:

1. I think the best moment in all of this totally belongs to my mom and I am so happy about that.


2. I hope all of you who are trying to be writers or have other awesome goals get a moment like that where you achieve something with someone’s support, and they get to celebrate too. 

3. Even before COVID-19 healthcare workers, grocery store workers, farmers, first responders, teachers? They were making impacts. They were making a difference. They were making people like my mom feel so special. We should make them feel special too.


HEAR MY BOOK BABY (AND MORE) ON PATREON

On one of my Patreon sites I read and print chapters of unpublished YA novels. THE LAST GODS and SAINT and now ALMOST DEAD. This is a monthly membership site (Hear the book chapters – $1/month, read them $3-month, plus goodies!). Sometimes I send people art! Art is fun.

On this, my second site, WRITE BETTER NOW, you can do a one-time purchase of a writing class or get two of my books in eBook form or just support our podcast or the dogs. It’s all part of the WRITING CLASS OF AWESOME.

It’s a super fun place to hang out, learn, read, and see my weirdness in its true form.

And I’m starting up a brand new, adult paranormal set at a Maine campground. You can read the first chapter here.

almost dead book by carrie jones
almost dead book by carrie jones

LET’S HANG OUT!

HEY! DO YOU WANT TO SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER?

MAYBE TAKE A COURSE, CHILL ON SOCIAL MEDIA, BUY ART OR A BOOK, OR LISTEN TO OUR PODCAST?

JUST CLICK ON THIS LINK AND FIND OUT HOW WE CAN INTERACT MORE.


HELP US AND DO AN AWESOME GOOD DEED

Thanks to all of you who keep listening to our weirdness on the DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE podcast and our new LOVING THE STRANGE podcast.

We’re sorry we laugh so much… sort of. 


Please share it and subscribe if you can. Please rate and like us if you are feeling kind, because it matters somehow. There’s a new episode every Tuesday!

Thanks so much for being one of the 261,000 downloads if you’ve given us a listen!

One of our newest LOVING THE STRANGE podcasts is about the strange and adorably weird things people say?

And one of our newest DOGS ARE SMARTER THAN PEOPLE episode is about fear setting and how being swallowed by a whale is bad ass.


And Carrie has a new book out! Yay!

You can order now! It’s an adult mystery/thriller that takes place in Bar Harbor, Maine. Read an excerpt here!

best thrillers The People Who Kill
The people who kill

It’s my book! It came out June 1! Boo-yah! Another one comes out July 1.

And that one is called  THOSE WHO SURVIVED, which is the first book in the the DUDE GOODFEATHER series.  I hope you’ll read it, like it, and buy it!

The Dude Goodfeather Series - YA mystery by NYT bestseller Carrie Jones
The Dude Goodfeather Series – YA mystery by NYT bestseller Carrie Jones

TO TELL US YOUR BRAVE STORY JUST EMAIL BELOW.

If I Am Dressed, I Consider It A Miracle and Other Important Writer Answers to Questions

 I have been tagged a couple times now so here goes:

Rules: Answer the questions, add one of your own if you want, then tag five of your friends. (I am skipping that part because I hate tagging. You can tag yourself and say I tagged you if you want).

1. How old were you when the craft of writing called you to perform?

I wouldn’t say I was ever ‘called’ because that makes me think of being a priest and the thought of me being a priest is just so scary that I can’t handle it. 

Although, it would be fun to wear the collar and maybe guest star in Evil.

The first thing I remember writing is a haiku in second grade for Mrs. Joyce Snearson. Her son now writes for Entertainment Weekly.

My haiku was posted on the wall because:


1. I understood what syllables were.
2. I wrote in just one sentence like she asked.
3. It did not involve Tonka trucks, Barbies or hunting.

I thought writing might be okay if you always got praise like that.

My haiku (for the record)

Spring is fun you see
Because flowers grow with rain
and robins come home.

My next big writing excursion was a Star Trek story for my brother. It did not go so well.

2. What’s your favorite writing outfit? 

If I am dressed, I consider it a miracle.

3. What computer program do you use for your writing?

Microsoft Word

4. What’s the name of your most difficult character to write?

You know the random guy in the restaurant? The one who doesn’t do anything? He’s just background noise. And then sometimes he’s in the hall at the high school, or maybe at the gas station while stuff is going on?

Him.

5. When is your favorite time of day to write? 

When I am fully awake. This sometimes never happens.

6. What’s your favorite genre?

Oh, I am a genre lover and I’ll do anything with a genre. Wait, you don’t even have to pay me, so that means……

I’m just easy.

7. What writers have inspired you the most in your career and why?

My teachers at Vermont College: TIm Wynne-Jones, Sharon Darrow, Kathi Appelt and Rita Williams-Garcia because they are:


1. Awesome writers
2. Pretty fine dancers
3. Unafraid to give generously to others
4. Cute

8. Do you think you’re smarter than a fifth grader? 

I think that depends on the fifth grader, but in general – no.

9. What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re stuck on a scene?

Walk the dogs outside and call it exercise when it’s really just standing around watching them smell things, pee on things and smell things again. All of that tugging on leashes makes me get back into that writer flow.

10. If you could give one piece of advice to your fellow writers, what would it be?

Ignore advice.

Fine. I won’t be snarky. Um….

How about:

Write the way you want to write. Write about what you want to write. Write like you, not like John Green or E. Lockhart or Angie Thomas or Miguel Syjuco or M.T. Anderson or Rita Williams Garcia or Jason Reynolds. Write like you.


CARRIE’S TEACHABLE CLASS!

I have a quick, pre-recorded Teachable class designed to make you a killer scene writer in just one day. It’s fun. It’s fast. And you get to become a better writer for just $25, which is an amazing deal.

HEAR MY BOOK BABY (AND MORE) ON PATREON

On one of my Patreon sites I read and print chapters of unpublished YA novels. THE LAST GODS and SAINT and now ALMOST DEAD. This is a monthly membership site (Hear the book chapters – $1/month, read them $3-month, plus goodies!). Sometimes I send people art! Art is fun.

On this, my second site, WRITE BETTER NOW, you can do a one-time purchase of a writing class or get two of my books in eBook form or just support our podcast or the dogs. It’s all part of the WRITING CLASS OF AWESOME.

It’s a super fun place to hang out, learn, read, and see my weirdness in its true form.

And I’m starting up a brand new, adult paranormal set at a Maine campground. You can read the first chapter here.

Carrie Jones Books is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com

FAITH IS OUT!

It’s my baby book’s birthday!

And I have been a nervous wreck. It shot to #1 in a random new release category, which was super cool.

Thank you if you preordered it because I know that’s why. It’s because of you.

My new little novella FAITH is available for $1.99 if you order now (US, ebook https://amzn.to/34cuTIS) (CAN https://amzn.to/2HvsqkO).

And thank you SO MUCH to all of you have been so lovely and supportive about this little story. It’s really not like most of my writing, but it’s helped me win a couple of awards and things and it’s a story of my heart. Those are always so hard to release into the world.

Order Carrie Jones’s new book. It’s not BE BRAVE FRIDAY anymore, but I like this image. 🙂

The soul-wrenching story starts here….

Becca’s young life is about to change when she meets a boy in the playground, a boy who seems too magical to be real. Barely surviving at home, Becca’s new friend quickly teaches her what it means to have hope and faith.

A compelling novella that’s sure to resonate from the international and NYT bestselling author.


IMPORTANT BIT

It’s a really emotional small story so if you have any childhood abuse or trauma you may not want to read it.

Carrie Jones Books is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com

My Scary Story Is About To Be Theater!

Very soon a little ghost story that I wrote will be performed and available via the magic of the InterHell (I mean internet) via the Penobscot Theater and I’ll post about that as soon as it happens because I’m super excited about it!

But it made me think of all the random ghost stories that have happened in my life that I tend to be pretty chill about. I’ve mentioned some here, but not a ton because I don’t want to be known as CARRIE JONES, THE AUTHOR WHO HAS TOO MANY GHOST STORIES.

Anyway, the quick one I want to talk about was when Em and I were in the living room gathering up her stuff for school and the TV just switched on all by itself. Seriously. Both the remotes were in full view. Nobody was anywhere near the TV or the remotes. No cats. No dog. No humans. 

And it flipped onto this video of Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley all in black and white singing a duet . I’ve embedded it here. But to make it even freakier these were the lyrics they were on:

FOR MY DARLING, I LOVE YOU AND I ALWAYS WILL. 

BE BRAVE FRIDAY – PREORDER MY NOVELLA, Please

So, I am terrible at promoting myself because apparently I am an introvert. I know! I know! I don’t present that way at all, but I am a person who cringes when the phone rings.

But I am going to be brave and try because I love this story so much. Why? Because it’s about hope and faith even when things are impossible.

I HAVE A NEW NOVELLA!

But I have a book coming out October 1. It’s just an ebook because it’s small. It’s incredibly different from all the other books and stories that I’ve published, but I hope you’ll take a chance on it anyways because I love it terribly much.

It will be .99 on pre-order and 2.99 once it’s live.

And did I say I love it very much?

HOW YOU CAN HELP ME.

  1. You can spend .99 cents and make Amazon think, “Wow! People are buying Carrie’s book.”
  2. That will basically give me .35 cents. I can buy a stamp with that! So, that means when I send everyone holiday cards, you’re helping! Oh! You’re helping me and the post office.
  3. You can write a review on Amazon after you read it. This actually really helps authors a lot. So much. Insert begging voice, “Please buy my book and review it.”

THE BOOK

WHAT IT’S ABOUT

The soul-wrenching story starts here….

Becca’s young life is about to change when she meets a boy in the playground, a boy who seems too magical to be real. Barely, surviving at home, Becca’s new friend quickly teaches her what it means to have hope and faith.

A compelling novella that’s sure to resonate and leave a lasting impression.

Carrie Jones Books is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com

HOW I AM BEING BRAVE

This story won a few awards a long time ago, but it’s too short for traditional publishing really and it’s so different than what my readers expect from me that it feels…? Scary. It feels scary.

It’s hard to write something radically different sometimes.

And it’s also the story that helps me through my own grief, which is a deeply personal thing. So, maybe the reason I’m so scared is because it just feels so incredibly personal? Who know.

But I hope you’ll take a chance on it, check it out, and like it. And if you don’t like it? I hope you’ll still like me after you read it anyways.

HOW ABOUT YOU?

How are you doing this Friday? Are you being brave? Scared? Is there something you’d like me to cheer you on about? Just let me know!