I have a grocery list that is miles long because of the holidays.
Seriously, it’s so long. And I go to the grocery store.
Then I realize it. I have to get a grocery cart. I HATE grocery carts. No offense to you if you are reading this and you are, in fact, a grocery cart.
Why? Why do I hate them? Well, because you have to drive them. This is bad because:
1. I’m not a good driver. 2. There’s no horn on the grocery cart and sometimes you really REALLY need a horn like when the woman with the kid singing Dora the Explorer songs blocks THE ENTIRE PRODUCE AISLE because she’s parked her ginormous grocery cart sideways. SIDEWAYS!!! What is she thinking? 3. I can’t steer. 4. I really can’t steer grocery carts when one of the four dinky wheels goes all tar-rat-rat-rah-rat because it’s off balance. 5. I tend to knock things over. 6. I’m a floater not a driver. 7. Did I mention I’m not a good driver?
So, I buy MASSIVE amounts of food and go absolutely in debt for the rest of my life.
Side note: Why do crackers cost $5.99?
Side note #2: And I haven’t bought sliced meat for a long, long time because I am anti-sliced meat. NO OFFENSE TO YOU IF YOU ARE READING THIS AND YOU ARE A PIECE OF SALAMI. I bought it to wrap asparagus in and it costs like a MILLION TRILLION dollars.
But then, when I’m just standing there in the really long line someone bumps into me WITH THEIR GROCERY CART.
I swear if those things ever go AI, I’m going to be dead within the first week.
My little, creepy book baby is out in the world because who doesn’t want sad, quirky, horror with some romantic bits for the holiday season?
So, I have survived Christmas 1 and 2 in the house, and it was basically super cool amazing and I should really post about it, but instead I am going to post about holiday traditions.
So here it goes…
TRADITION NUMBER ONE:
First we get a tree. See earlier post by my dog, Tala, to understand this process. Then we put up tree. It is a crooked kind of perfect and it somehow manages to stay up.
Cloud is really into the tree. Sparty? Not so much.
TRADITION NUMBER TWO:
In this tree we put elves. These elves are secret Santa spies. They move around. They report back about the whole naughty/nice thing.
The Emster (my daughter)? She hates these elves.
She wants the elves to die.
Please do not kill me, Emster. I will tell Santa that you are an angel! I swear. That is if I can ever get myself out of the fetal position.
Emster’s ELF DEATH WISH is why we put them high in the tree.
They wisely stay high when they move around. The Emster is a formidable opponent. Elf Number Two does not understand this. Check out his fighting pose.
Dude, I may be fabric and wire, but I can totally take her. C’mon over here, Emster. You wanna piece of elf? I’m gonna give you a taste of elf you ain’t never gonna forget.
TRADITION NUMBER THREE:
For some strange reason we have a swaying snow couple that sings the whole controversial BABY IT’S COLD OUTSIDE song.
Did you know Rod Stewart and Dolly Parton have a version of this song?
Not Dolly and Rod.
And as much as I love Rod Stewart and Dolly Parton and respect them for the zombie people that they are, I can’t stand this song any more because … okay, are you ready?…. because it makes me think of Dolly Parton and Rod Stewart FORNICATING!!!
And, well, the final aspect of this tradition is that Mr. Snowman always seems to end up in a position where he seems to be feeling up Mrs. Snowman. This seems wrong.
I know snow people need a little joy in their lives, but look at the smiles on their faces. Do they not seem like they are getting a little too much pleasure out of the situation.
And here’s a hint snow couple: WE ALL CAN SEE YOU!!! I’m sure Rod and Dolly don’t do it in public. I mean there are not Parton/Stewart sex tapes are there?
Please, for the love of all things Twitter, let there not be any of those out there.
Tradition Number Four
An advent calendar. Nice and easy there, folks. I thought you might need a little break after the love fest.
Tradition Numbers 5, 6, Etc, because I’m getting tired.
We also chalk the initials of the three wise men above our front door.
We also burn a yule log we make.
We also hide a pickle on the tree. Find the pickle = get a present.
Jesus has a little parade and goes into the manger on Christmas Eve.
We sometimes open one present on Christmas Eve and it is a book.
We smash a peppermint pig when we remember to.
We have seven fishes at dinner the night before.
If there are any fortune cookies anywhere, we read the fortunes and add “IN BED” because that’s the way this family has always rolled.
Speaking of rolls, we have cinnamon rolls and fruit salad for Christmas Breakfast with Em and southern Christmas food for Christmas morning when Em’s at her dad’s.
Santa Mouse also always hides a yellow ribboned present on the tree. GO TEAM SANTA MOUSE!
And we always make a birthday cake for Jesus.
Yeah, it says, Grandma. But it’s kind of the same thing:
1.They both want what’s best for you.
2. They both tell a lot of stories about things that happened centuries ago.
3. They both think that THEY KNOW EVERYTHING, and if you’re a Christian, they kind of do. At least Jesus does. You’ve got to forgive Grandma for loving gross stuff like Moxie and saying that it’ll grow hairs on your chest though, because, quite frankly, she is old. And she does not ACTUALLY know everything, because she is grandma and not God.
4. They both say JESUS CHRIST a lot. Jesus does because it’s his name. Grandma does because… well, her dentures give her some trouble and Don Vicente Fernández died this year. But enough with the nice stuff… let’s move on to:
Tradition Number Too High For Me To Count
A love fest! We always put out the Playmobile Santa House.
It looks so innocent!
Isn’t it cute?
Doesn’t the elf at the door look like he’s saying, C’mon inside. It’s warm. There are cookies. Hold on let me go get Santa and the Little Mrs.
And yet… And yet… This is what we ALWAYS find in there.
Why hello! Grandma does not approve.
Seriously, why else do you think there’s so many darn elves?
You have to love tradition.
Do you have any cool traditions in your house for any holidays? Let me know if you have a chance!
Share this if you want and also because it would be super nice of you!
One week in grade school, Em scored victories for short girls everywhere.
Em (on left) with her friend Callie
First, her grade had been preparing for around two months for the Greek and Roman festival. They learned history stuff, made Greek gods trading cards, had an Olympics and finally a festival where they made costumes and everything.
So, Em had been stressed right before this about being a short, curvy girl.
Em in seventh grade hanging with Tala
“Everyone else has Paris Hilton bodies,” she said nightly. “And they are so tall, and so incredibly skinny, and, and, and … they wear thongs.”
Thongs?
I tried not to hyper-fixate on that part. I failed a bit.
“You have a Jennifer Lopez, Beyonce body. That’s cool,” I told her because it was true. She was skinny but fit with adorable muscles. “You have a strong, healthy, thin body. Plus, you are much more huggable. Plus, thongs are silly in seventh grade unless, you know . . . free will, let people have their choices, blah, blah, blah.”
And so on.
I had done all the good mommy things of applauding other achievements, saying she has a beautiful, strong, healthy body, a perfect Em body.
She still complained.
What Em looks like when she complains
So, she was really stressed about the Olympic events.
“I’m so short I’ll never win anything, especially not the standing long jump. I want the standing long jump.”
So, first on the day of the event, she trounced everyone at the knowledge bowl, which is set up like Jeopardy, but with Greek/Roman categories like: He played his fiddle when Rome burned.
The working class of Rome was called this.
Em at Harvard where she majored in Classics. Obviously the Greek Bowl in grade school was a major inciting incident in her life.
Then came the Olympic events. The events she was worried about.
Em the Short came in second for the discus, and shot put and she WON the standing long jump with a massive leap of almost 80 inches, which is a big deal when you figure she was only 40-something inches and she was competing with tall, thong-wearing girls of 5-8 or 5-7.
Whoo-hoo, another short girl victory! Brains and jumping ability. Yay Em!
This was the look of the victor:
Em in seventh grade, victorious.
It pretty much still encapsulates her personality.
And yes, Em grew taller and wiser and ended up studying classics at Harvard and winning an award for her thesis on Alexander the Great, becoming a field artillery officer in the Army, and now is in graduate school at Dartmouth (Tuck Business) and Harvard (Kennedy School for Public Policy), and she is of average height, and I feel super lucky to be her mom.
Us. She is so patient with me.
Maybe because she was blonde everyone at Harvard thinks/thought she was a legacy, but she wasn’t/isn’t. She was/is just a smart kid from rural Maine who didn’t give up and tried hard, always.
I always want to be more like her.
Em doing krav maga like a bad a**
My little, creepy book baby is out in the world because who doesn’t want sad, quirky, horror with some romantic bits for the holiday season?
Because I’m a little stressed out because of the holidays and the state of the world, I’m recycling this blog from 2007. HELLO! Ancient times.
Back then, we had an awesome dog named Tala (a Great Pyr), who wrote the whole blog because my dogs are like that. So helpful. Here you go.
Hello. I am Tala. I am Carrie’s dog. This Sunday I took my humans on a little adventure.
Aw, yes… the love.
So, Sunday I convinced the fam to go get a Christmas tree because there was a monster storm coming Monday. I could feel it in my doggy bones. They get some creaky when the barometric pressure changes, you know.
So, I explained to the Emster (the little human) that I was not going to be doing much work. I was merely a supervisor. She’d have to do the heavy lifting.
Of course, she said. I’ll do anything for you, Tala. You are the most awesome-ist doggy ever.
I concurred.
I found the perfect tree and barked it down with my awesome doggy breath.
My work here is done.
I then convinced the humans to haul it out of the Christmas tree patch while I sniffed around for bones, dead rodents, old poo, and other yumdilicious things.
Yes, humans, you will. One little puppy-dog pout and it’s all over. No use pretending.
And then I peed on a tree. An eight-foot-tree, and Carrie (the bigger human with long hair) screamed and quickly pretended like it didn’t happen.
Is this good, Tala? Yes, little human. It is.
And look how happy she is, just thinking about picking up the tree. That’s not my car by the way. I don’t like silver. It blends in with my white fur too much and I look pasty.
It was a bit of a haul getting the tree out of there, but I made those humans march fast through motivation.
March, humans! March! Hurry! Snow is coming!!!And I might pee on another Christmas tree!
They hauled the tree a long, long way. They really did it. They hauled that tree. And everyone says humans aren’t good at anything other than brushing out hairballs, picking up little mistakes and putting them in paper towels, and giving out doggy treats while saying “Sit. Sit. SIT!” over and over again. I’ve proved those nay-sayers wrong.
And they hauled the tree out just in time, too… because the next day looked like this…
Hhmm. We’ve got lots of potential tree hauling and peeing opportunities around here.
Note: Do I not look like a Snow Dog? Yes. Yes. I do.
Unfortunately, though, the youngest human, worn out from the events of the day before, passed out while sledding.
No more, Tala. No more. I’ve given you all the dog treats I can find. And you keep hogging the sled.
Don’t you worry. I buried her some good.
I’m just that kind of dog. The helpful kind.
It’s hard not to miss that dog. It’s a good thing a lot of her spirit lives on in Gabby.
Gabby Dog carrying on the tradition of peeing in inappropriate placesAnd making goofy photos by Christmas trees.
My little, creepy book baby is out in the world because who doesn’t want sad, quirky, horror with some romantic bits for the holiday season?
Ok. I was tagged on Facebook for this and I sooooooooo didn’t understand the rules, so I deleted my response.
Here it is, better-i-fied. Consider yourself tagged if you want.
4 Random Facts
1) I have a Teddy bear with only two legs. I call him Teddy. My friends renamed him Peg Leg after a horrible slumber party accident. Jen Fonteyn you are on notice, babe!
2) I once cried in the vice principal’s office and I was a grown-up.
3) I have a super secret project. I always do.
4) I can write with my left and right hands.
4 Shortcomings
5) No matter how much of a feminist I think I am I still melt if people call me baby. Especially if those people are male and have lowish rumbling voices.
6) If no one else is home I forget to eat.
7) I am not very worldly, it seems.
8) I am phobic about skiing.
4 Habits
9) I exist. I think this is a habit.
10) I check my email whenever I get writers’ block.
11) I walk the dog three times a day.
12) Every Christmas I make the Playmobile Santa and the Playmobile Mrs. Claus have a little too much fun.
4 Goals (not writing related).
13) To be good at something.
14) To make the world a tiny bit better.
15) To wear a sleeveless dress without feeling naked.
16) To hike the AT despite the fact that I have to wear knee braces whenever I hike or run.
How about you? Let me know if you do this, okay?
My little, creepy book baby is out in the world because who doesn’t want sad, quirky, horror with some romantic bits for the holiday season?
1. One of my blogging friends was feeling sad even though he is published because, basically, he’s worried about being a mediocre writer.
2. It is easy to worry about this.
3. There’s that essential sense of horror about never being good enough, never making a difference, never being on a NYT bestseller list or being nominated for a National Book Award.
4. That’s not what writing is all about. (Note: I forget this a lot.)
5. One of my friends who became my husband wrote me this in an email back when he was just my friend when I was worrying about not doing enough good in the world because I am just a writer:
“You never know what kind of positive effect you are having in someone’s life as an author. Even if it is just that someone can escape for an hour from their life, that may be the best part of their day. Think of the kid who doesn’t like their home life or maybe their school life or maybe both. When they pick up a book by Carrie E. Jones, they get to escape the realities of their life and lose themselves in somebody else’s for a while. How cool is that?”
If you are a published writer and having a bad day you can just substitute your name in there because it’s true for everyone.
If you are unpublished writer and having a bad day you can do the same thing because you are writing, you are creating, you are escaping and thinking and plotting and feeling and that is a positive for you FOR YOU and hopefully for other people too some day.
Being a writer can be hard. People write stuff in reviews that can be cruel rather than constructive. You’ve got to ovary up to deal with that stuff when you’ve poured your heart and soul into a story.
So, be kind to authors when you review them. And musicians. And businesses. Don’t get off on being clever and cruel. Get off on being kind, okay?
Spreading kindness is so much lovelier than spreading cruelty.
NEW BOOK OUT!
It’s super fun. An adult paranormal/mystery/romance/horror blend. Think Charlaine Harris but without all the vampires. Instead there are shifters and dragon grandmothers and evil police chiefs and potential necromancers and the occasional zombie and a sexy skunk.
Be ready to resurrect your love of the paranormal in the first novel in the Alisa Thea series—the books that give new meaning to quirky paranormal.
Alisa Thea is barely scraping by as a landscaper in small-town Bar Harbor. She can’t touch people with her bare skin without seeing their deaths and passing out, which limits her job and friendship opportunities. It also doesn’t give much of a possibility for a love life, nor does her overbearing stepfather, the town’s sheriff. Then along comes an opportunity at a local campground where she thinks her need for a home and job are finally solved . . .
But the campground and its quirky residents have secrets of their own: the upper level is full of paranormals. And when some horrifying murders hit the campground—along with a potential boyfriend from her past who may be involved—Alisa starts to wonder if living in a campground of paranormals will end up in her own death.
Join New York Times and internationally best[selling author Carrie Jones in the first book of the Alisa Thea Series as it combines the excitement of a thriller with the first-hand immediacy and quirky heroines that Jones is known for.
It’s fun. It’s weird. It’s kind of like Charlaine Harris, but a little bit more achy and weird.
Almost Dead Series – Meet Alissa Thea, a sexy skunk, a haunted campground and a lot of quirky
Share this if you want and also because it would be super nice of you!
Okay. Let me just say that I am super glad that I am not famous.
Here is why:
There are no paparazzi following me around.
If there were I would ALWAYS be on sites like THE SUPERFICIAL and GOODCELEBSDOAWKWARDTHINGS.COM (I made that one up) because I am SUCH a klutz.
Bella in Twilight and half the women in rom-coms have nothing on me. NOTHING!
Why?
Well, all in one day I:
1. Drove my car over a curb.
This is not my car unfortunately. I used to have a MINI Cooper, but I basically made it explode on the turnpike. It was a spectacular death, but that’s a story for another day.
2. Twisted my ankle and did that half fall-down thing when going into a gas station.
3. Drove the car over the curb AGAIN!
Also not me or my MINI. My MINI was red.
4. Set the microwave on fire.
There were blue flames and fire and now there is a GINORMOUS scorch mark in the microwave.
5. Wore two different shoes out in public.
Can you imagine if people were filming my life? They would totally think that I was:
Drunk
Taking bath salts.
Possessing a human body for the first time.
Sigh. I feel so badly for famous people. It’s not just all those horrifying up-skirt shots, it’s also just all the goofy faces and awkward moments and wardrobe malfunctions. I know some famous people don’t mind and actually get off on that stuff, but I bet a lot more don’t.
GOOD LUCK FAMOUS PEOPLE! I AM ROOTING FOR YOU!
NEW BOOK OUT!
It’s super fun. An adult paranormal/mystery/romance/horror blend. Think Charlaine Harris but without all the vampires. Instead there are shifters and dragon grandmothers and evil police chiefs and potential necromancers and the occasional zombie and a sexy skunk.
Be ready to resurrect your love of the paranormal in the first novel in the Alisa Thea series—the books that give new meaning to quirky paranormal.
Alisa Thea is barely scraping by as a landscaper in small-town Bar Harbor. She can’t touch people with her bare skin without seeing their deaths and passing out, which limits her job and friendship opportunities. It also doesn’t give much of a possibility for a love life, nor does her overbearing stepfather, the town’s sheriff. Then along comes an opportunity at a local campground where she thinks her need for a home and job are finally solved . . .
But the campground and its quirky residents have secrets of their own: the upper level is full of paranormals. And when some horrifying murders hit the campground—along with a potential boyfriend from her past who may be involved—Alisa starts to wonder if living in a campground of paranormals will end up in her own death.
Join New York Times and internationally best[selling author Carrie Jones in the first book of the Alisa Thea Series as it combines the excitement of a thriller with the first-hand immediacy and quirky heroines that Jones is known for.
It’s fun. It’s weird. It’s kind of like Charlaine Harris, but a little bit more achy and weird.
Almost Dead Series – Meet Alissa Thea, a sexy skunk, a haunted campground and a lot of quirky
Share this if you want and also because it would be super nice of you!
One day when I lived in Ellsworth, Maine (I don’t any longer.) I threw on some ballet flats and jumped in my MINI, zipped up my driveway hill and there was my dog (Scotty) barking and protecting the driveway from a car that had fallen into a ditch and the man trying to shovel the car out.
I jumped out, put Scotty in the car and said, “Can I help?”
The man was Joe, an older guy who has some major health issues and lived down the street.
He was like “oh yeah.”
A white-haired lady inside the car looked at me and said, “Please.”
She had a front-wheel drive car. It had no super cool studded tires like the MINI. And she’d tried to get up the snow-covered monster hill that was my road and slid all the way down. Her car was tilted at this funky angle that no car should have to endure.
Joe and I got behind it and pushed.
We pushed some more.
My ballet flat went in the snow. I fell down. Joe fell down. The car didn’t move.
We tried again. We tried again. And again.
I lost feeling in my butt since it was so cold because i didn’t put a jacket on or anything and my hair was wet from the shower once I realized there was a problem out on the road.
I had never lost feeling in my butt before. It was pretty weird.
This whole time that Joe and I were fighting against the wicked machine that was Mrs. Austen’s unbudging car, I was thinking about helping people and books and writing because let’s face it … you get bored pushing cars that don’t move.
So a lot of the time when people start to criticize books they get really … um … agitated (and rightfully so in a lot of cases) if they think the female character gets rescued too much. And people are sort of SUPER sensitized to it so much that they flip out if anyone helps out the female character ever.
And I get that.
I get that female readers need to know that they can rescue themselves, that they don’t need a boy to do it, and that if girls think that then it makes them dependent. I mean, I thought about that all the time when I wrote the NEED books. And Zara (my main character) thought about that all the time. I think about it when I write the Rosie mystery/thrillers and Alisa’s haunted campground story.
But it also makes me worried.
Because the truth is that we all need rescuing constantly. We all need help. Boys need help. Girls need help. Authors who are neurotic about their next book coming out need help. And I want a balance in books and in movies. I want different genders and ages and races and religions and physical abilities to help each other, to respect help, to be able to receive help.
It’s about balance and intention and not being a stereotype or trope.
And the thing is that in real life? You just do it. You just help (hopefully, unless you’re in a reality show or something and think it’s all about you).
I wasn’t about to ignore that older woman in her car because she was:
1. Older 2. Female
3. Judging from her bumperstickers a different political party than I am.
I didn’t think, “Hm … Perhaps, I shouldn’t help her because she should get that car out of the ditch all by herself even though she does have a cane and a fake hip that hasn’t fully healed yet. If I help her, I am actually oppressing her.”
And Joe who almost died the year before didn’t think that either, I bet.
Yesterday was an election in our town. People got all riled up. People were mean to female realtors, but not male realtors. People were cranky and unkind on political posts about local politics.
But the thing is? Almost all those people are going to be there helping each other out when help is needed. How do I know? Because I’ve been a reporter here and I’ve seen it over and over again.
Helpfulness is just as natural as hate–if not even more so. It just doesn’t get as much press.
So, I guess that’s my point.
Go help somebody today! And thank somebody who has helped you.
Here is mine: Thank you to everyone who has rescued me from writer insecurity this year, who have saved me from sad, who has made me laugh, who bought a book or let me edit your story or supported me on my patreon.
You have totally been my rescuers and I owe you! YAY YOU!!! xoxxo
NEW BOOK OUT!
It’s super fun. An adult paranormal/mystery/romance/horror blend. Think Charlaine Harris but without all the vampires. Instead there are shifters and dragon grandmothers and evil police chiefs and potential necromancers and the occasional zombie and a sexy skunk.
Be ready to resurrect your love of the paranormal in the first novel in the Alisa Thea series—the books that give new meaning to quirky paranormal.
Alisa Thea is barely scraping by as a landscaper in small-town Bar Harbor. She can’t touch people with her bare skin without seeing their deaths and passing out, which limits her job and friendship opportunities. It also doesn’t give much of a possibility for a love life, nor does her overbearing stepfather, the town’s sheriff. Then along comes an opportunity at a local campground where she thinks her need for a home and job are finally solved . . .
But the campground and its quirky residents have secrets of their own: the upper level is full of paranormals. And when some horrifying murders hit the campground—along with a potential boyfriend from her past who may be involved—Alisa starts to wonder if living in a campground of paranormals will end up in her own death.
Join New York Times and internationally best[selling author Carrie Jones in the first book of the Alisa Thea Series as it combines the excitement of a thriller with the first-hand immediacy and quirky heroines that Jones is known for.
It’s fun. It’s weird. It’s kind of like Charlaine Harris, but a little bit more achy and weird.
Almost Dead Series – Meet Alissa Thea, a sexy skunk, a haunted campground and a lot of quirky
Share this if you want and also because it would be super nice of you!
If you know me, you know that I have a tendency to say things that have sexual connotations without realizing it until it’s far too late.
And to make it worse, once I realize that I’ve accidentally said something naughty? My whole face breaks into an OMG expression. My eyes get big. My eyebrows are so ashamed they try to hide in my hairline and my mouth usually gapes open.
Keep that in mind.
My publisher once sent me to Toronto because one of my books was up for a big teen book award for best kiss, I think.
So, when I disembarked the airplane in Canada (after the lady in 7A got in trouble) I had to go through Customs, where I embarrassed myself in front of the very attractive man who looked a lot like him:
Sigh.
How did I do this? How did I humiliate myself in front of he who shall now be known as Very Attractive Customs Man?
Well, when you enter Canada, the Very Attractive Customs Man will look at you, look at your passport, look at you again, and say, “Why are you entering Canada?”
And if you are me, you will try to remember the three categories on the sheet that you can check off, which are something like:
1. Business 2. Leisure 3. Something Else that I can’t remember because I have lost too many brain cells
And if you are me, you will be nervous for absolutely no reason and blurt out, “Pleasure.”
Pleasure, my friends, is not on the list.
I think that maybe I blurted this out because I couldn’t remember the word “leisure.”
And if you are me, this word will make you conjure up images such as this:
And if you are me, you will get the Horrified Carrie Face and stare at Very Attractive Customs Man and go, “Oh! Oh no! Oh my gosh! That sounds so naughty, doesn’t it? I swear it’s not like that! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! ”
Gasp!
And if you are me, Very Attractive Customs Man will stare back at you blankly for three seconds and then he will start laughing uncontrollably. He will start laughing so hard that he will bend over at the waist and HOLD HIS STOMACH!
And if you are me you will stand there and turn red.
This is proof that you can be an author and still be a total dork. So fellow dorks, take heart, you can still have your dreams even if the execution of those dreams becomes terribly, terribly embarrassing.
ALSO I HAVE A NEW BOOK COMING OUT!
It’s super fun. An adult paranormal/mystery/romance/horror blend. Think Charlaine Harris but without all the vampires. Instead there are shifters and dragon grandmothers and evil police chiefs and potential necromancers and the occasional zombie.
Be ready to resurrect your love of the paranormal in the first novel in the Alisa Thea series—the books that give new meaning to quirky paranormal.
Alisa Thea is barely scraping by as a landscaper in small-town Bar Harbor. She can’t touch people with her bare skin without seeing their deaths and passing out, which limits her job and friendship opportunities. It also doesn’t give much of a possibility for a love life, nor does her overbearing stepfather, the town’s sheriff. Then along comes an opportunity at a local campground where she thinks her need for a home and job are finally solved . . .
But the campground and its quirky residents have secrets of their own: the upper level is full of paranormals. And when some horrifying murders hit the campground—along with a potential boyfriend from her past who may be involved—Alisa starts to wonder if living in a campground of paranormals will end up in her own death.
Join New York Times and internationally best[selling author Carrie Jones in the first book of the Alisa Thea Series as it combines the excitement of a thriller with the first-hand immediacy and quirky heroines that Jones is known for.
It’s fun. It’s weird. It’s kind of like Charlaine Harris, but a little bit more achy and weird.
The Places We Hide by Carrie Jones (That’s me. If you click the image, it will bring you to the Amazon page!)
The third book in Rosie and Seamus’s story of adventure, mystery, and death is here!
Sometimes the treasure is not worth the hunt . . . .
When a little boy goes missing on a large Maine island, the community is horrified especially almost-lovers Rosie Jones and Sergeant Seamus Kelley. The duo’s dealt with two gruesome serial killers during their short time together and are finally ready to focus on their romance despite their past history of murders and torment.
Things seem like they’ve gone terribly wrong. Again. Rosie wakes up in the middle of the woods. Is she sleepwalking or is something more sinister going on?
What at first seems like a fun treasure hunt soon turns into something much more terrifying . . . 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.
To buy it, click here, and let me know! I might send you something!
Share this if you want and also because it would be super nice of you!
One day when we were doing press for the anti-bullying anthology, DEAR BULLY, something that I never imagined would happen, happened.
No, I did not suddenly learn how to fly.
This is Super Girl. She can fly, and rock a cape.
No, Grover did not propose.
Some day I will, Cawwie.
Instead, I was in a real photo shoot with a real make-up artist and real stylist and real photo shoot coordinator and real photographer with assistant.
For Glamour Magazine.
Yes, seriously. Glamour Magazine.
And I wore make-up. And it was cold, but I still managed to not fall down or turn into an ice cube.
It was for the Dear Bully anthology that Megan Kelley Hall and I are doing with Harper Collins, so I couldn’t cop out because it’s for a good cause.
Laurie Faria Stolarz had a submission with “Dear Bully” as its title. Isn’t that a good title? She is a genius. And also very nice. So we used it for the whole book.
And so anyway, I was totally out of my comfort zone and the whole time that I was panicking and thinking, “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. I have to wear make-up. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. People are going to see my picture. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. I have to wear clothes that do not belong to me.”
Really, it’s true. You wear clothes that are not yours at these things. So, I was kind of thinking I’d get to wear something glammy because it is GLAMOUR MAGAZINE, but since they did the shoot in Maine, it was basically …. um…. LL Bean.
Yep. I was in Glamour wearing Maine anti-glam clothes.
Someday, I swear, I’ll be glammy. Really. I will. It’s on my bucket list.
I am on a cow. That is on the bucket list of me, Grover, and I manage to do it fabulously and glamorously, don’t I?
Yes, I know Grover. You do.
But the point here is that if YOU EVER have to do a photo shoot with Glamour, do NOT be scared because the people are so awesome and nice and kind and patient. It’s amazing. I fell in love with all of them. They were just that cool.
The Places We Hide by Carrie Jones (That’s me. If you click the image, it will bring you to the Amazon page!)
The third book in Rosie and Seamus’s story of adventure, mystery, and death is here!
Sometimes the treasure is not worth the hunt . . . .
When a little boy goes missing on a large Maine island, the community is horrified especially almost-lovers Rosie Jones and Sergeant Seamus Kelley. The duo’s dealt with two gruesome serial killers during their short time together and are finally ready to focus on their romance despite their past history of murders and torment.
Things seem like they’ve gone terribly wrong. Again. Rosie wakes up in the middle of the woods. Is she sleepwalking or is something more sinister going on?
What at first seems like a fun treasure hunt soon turns into something much more terrifying . . . 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.
To buy it, click here, and let me know! I might send you something!
Share this if you want and also because it would be super nice of you!
