Monday, February 24, 2014

My First Apartment

It wasn’t much, but it was home. My first home, after moving out of my parents’ house; an upstairs apartment that I rented for $130 per month. A studio apartment.

As studio apartments go, it wasn’t bad. The place was clean, sort of, with fresh paint and appliances that worked – almost all the time! Out of the seven light bulbs, two of them weren’t burnt out, a problem I solved by quickly purchasing more light bulbs. But I couldn’t do anything about the unique smell, an odor that lingered even after I scrubbed everything with bleach.

Although it was small, (200 sq. ft) it did have four rooms – a kitchen, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. Okay, the bedroom was actually a closet that my bed fit into perfectly, and a bathroom isn’t usually counted as a separate room, I know. But a four-room apartment sounded far more impressive than a two-bedroom one. The one window allowed me to see the outside world – in the form of a picturesque view of a grand old brick building just five feet away. Between the two buildings was a walkway that led to the back stairs.

Of course, there were neighbors, and in a college town that meant students and, you guessed it, parties – not a good fit for a guy who had to get up at 4 a.m. to go to work!

There were five apartments in all – above a row of storefronts on a side street. Access to the apartments was a big wooden door with a thick pane of glass, situated between two of the stores. The door was locked after 10 p.m., and to open it, a four-digit code had to be entered on a number pad. Or, as I soon discovered, a good hard pull worked just as well. Since that was faster, it was my preferred method of entry. Not exactly secure. But then, there would have been no point. The door for the alley entrance was propped open twenty-four hours a day. All anyone had to do was go through the doorway, side step the water heaters, and climb the narrow staircase.

At least the door to the apartment itself had a lock – with a key. And, yes, it worked. Of course, if I ever forgot my key, all I needed to do was walk around to the window – it didn’t lock.

The place sounds rather horrible but, at the time, I didn’t consider any of its “problems” an issue. Back then; it didn’t even seem that small.

I only lived in that apartment for a few months before moving to Wisconsin – wedding bells were calling my name. Yes, I took my light bulbs with me, eventually installing them in my new home – a trailer. And let me just say, it’s a good thing I hadn’t had a problem with the condition of my former residence because this trailer made the apartment look like a mansion! Perhaps I’ll tell you about that next week.

Rave Reviews Book Club
Current Read
African Me & Satellite TV
by Jo Robinson




Bruce A. Borders


Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on Apple®, Amazon®, Barnes & Noble, Kobo®, Diesel Books®, and Smashwords®, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com

Sunday, February 16, 2014

In The Spotlight

You may have noticed over the last couple of months, my blog has included a small blurb from the Rave Reviews Book Club - the current Featured Selection and the weekly Spotlight Author. This week, I am honored to have been named the Spotlight Author! As a part of that, several bloggers have hosted me on their blog - a great opportunity to expand the reach of my books. Below is the short blog I wrote for those who hosted me. I thought I’d re-post and share it here.

My name is Bruce A. Borders, author of criminal fiction books. I guess you could call me a professional dreamer - or a schemer. Either one fits.

As a young boy, books always fascinated me. The stories they told were so captivating, so spellbinding. The further I got into a book, the more absorbed I became - and the more questions I had. I wanted to know the what, where, who, and when, of the entire story. But the question that most intrigued me was the “how.” I found it utterly fascinating how everything connected, how seemingly impossible situations were resolved, and especially how things always worked out. With the right explanation, even the strangest puzzle can make sense.

Eventually, I progressed to devising my own conundrums - and then solving them. Things like how to rob a bank, how to gain access to a high-security building or escape from one, or how to get away with murder. This was all hypothetical of course. I never actually wanted to do any of these things. The thrill was in figuring out how they could be done.

Obviously, none of the adults in my life were impressed by my newfound interest. Everyone seemed to agree this “daydreaming” would serve no useful purpose in life. One teacher even told me my pastime was dangerous and unhealthy; that anyone with this sort of mentality would probably end up being a criminal and doing time in prison.

For some people, his prediction could have been right; I can see how it could happen. And, I suppose I could have used his words of warning as an excuse to follow a crooked road to a life of crime. But, I didn’t. Instead, I became a writer.

Rave Reviews Book Club

Featured Selection
Daydream's Daughter, Nightmare's Friend
by Nonnie Jules

 Daydream's Daughter, Nightmare's Friend

 Rave Reviews Book Club


Bruce A. Borders
 Over My Dead Body

Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books. Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and other titles, are available as ebooks on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. His books are also available in paperback at most online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 Bruce also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com


Sunday, February 9, 2014

Rave Reviews Book Club SPOTLIGHT Author



Please join me in welcoming Rave Reviews Book Club,
Author SPOTLIGHT Margo Bond Collins.

The Joy of Online Book Clubs
by Margo Bond Collins
In addition to writing novels, I teach online courses in college English—primarily writing classes. This means that almost all of my work is done from home. I tend to be more introverted than extraverted, so generally, I’m happy with my current job situation.
But I used to teach traditional college classes, and I miss discussing books. I miss discussing the characters and their motivations, the way a plot moves, the wording an author chooses. I miss interacting with other people about the novels that I love to read.
And this is why I love belonging to online book clubs like Rave Reviews: it allows me to talk books with other people who love to read! And in this case, I love discussing books with other indie authors; it gives me the opportunity to discuss how they deal not only with reading, but with writing and with marketing, too. I belong to a lot of book clubs online, but Rave Reviews is quickly becoming my favorite.
Read on for a sneak peek into my new release, Fairy, Texas, and my first novel, Waking Up Dead, both published by Solstice Shadows Publishing—then swing by Rave Reviews and join us for a great discussion!
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 Fairy, Texas

Fairy, Texas Blurb:
Fairy, Texas. A small town like any other.
Laney Harris didn’t want to live there. When her mother remarried and moved them to a town where a date meant hanging out at the Sonic, Laney figured that “boring” would have a whole new meaning. A new stepsister who despised her and a high school where she was the only topic of gossip were bad enough. But when she met the school counselor (and his terminal bad breath), she grew suspicious. Especially since he had wings that only she could see. And then there were Josh and Mason, two gorgeous glimmering-eyed classmates whose interest in her might not be for the reasons she hoped. Not to mention that dead guy she nearly tripped over in gym class.
She was right. Boring took on an entirely new dimension in Fairy, Texas.
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Excerpt
Fairy High could have fit into one wing of my old school. The three-story, red brick building looked like it had been around for at least a century—it actually had carvings over two of the doorways that read “Men’s Entrance” and “Women’s Entrance.” I was glad to see that none of the kids paid any attention to those instructions.
“Counselor’s office,” I muttered to myself. At least I wasn’t starting in the middle of a term—though given the fact that there were fewer than 500 students in the entire high school, I didn’t think I was going to be able to go unnoticed, even in the general bustle of the first day back from summer vacation.
I walked through the door marked “Men’s Entrance,” just be contrary, and faced a long hallway lined with heavy wooden doors. The spaces in between the doors were filled with lockers and marble staircases with ornate hand-rails flanked each end of the long hallway. Students poured in behind me, calling out greetings to each other and jostling me off to the side while I tried to get my bearings. None of the doors obviously led to a main office; I was going to have to walk the entire length of the hallway. And people were already starting to stare and whisper.
God. I hated being the new kid.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward. I made it halfway down the hall without seeing anything informative—all the doors had numbers over them and many of them had name plaques, but neither of those things did me any good since I didn’t know the name or office number for the counselor. I was almost getting desperate enough to ask Kayla, but of course she was nowhere to be seen.
I turned back from scanning the halls for her and caught sight of the first adult I’d seen—and almost screamed. As it was, I gasped loudly enough for a guy walking past me to do a double take. The man standing in the open doorway was tall, over six feet, and way skinny—so emaciated that it looked like you ought to be able to see his ribs through his shirt, if his shirt didn’t hang so loosely on him. He had white hair that stuck out in tufts, thin lips, a sharp nose, and pale blue eyes that narrowed as he watched the kids walk past—and all the kids gave him a wide berth without even seeming to notice that they did so. He stood in an empty circle while students streamed around him in the crowded hallway.
But none of that was what made me almost scream.
For a moment, just as I’d turned toward him, I could have sworn that I’d seen the shadow of two huge, black, leathery wings stretched out behind him.
_____________________________________________
 Waking Up Dead


Waking Up Dead Blurb:
When Dallas resident Callie Taylor died young, she expected to go to Heaven, or maybe Hell. Instead, when she met her fate early thanks to a creep with a knife and a mommy complex, she went to Alabama. Now she’s witnessed another murder, and she’s not about to let this one go. She’s determined to help solve it before an innocent man goes to prison. And to answer the biggest question of all: why the hell did she wake up dead in Alabama?
_____________________________________________
Excerpt
When I died, I expected to go to heaven.
Okay. Maybe hell. It’s not like I was perfect or anything. But I was sort of hoping for heaven.
Instead, I went to Alabama.
Yeah. I know. It’s weird.
I died in Dallas, my hometown. I was killed, actually. Murdered. I’ll spare you the gruesome details. I don’t like to remember them myself. Some jerk with a knife–and probably a Bad-Mommy complex. Believe me, if I knew where he was, I’d go haunt his ass.
At any rate, by the time death came, I was ready for it–ready to stop hurting, ready to let go. I didn’t even fight it.
And then I woke up dead in Alabama. Talk about pissed off.
You know, even reincarnation would have been fine with me–I could have started over, clean slate and all that. Human, cow, bug. Whatever. But no. I ended up haunting someplace I’d never even been.
That’s not the way it’s supposed to work, right? Ghosts are supposed to be the tortured spirits of those who cannot let go of their earthly existence. If they could be convinced to follow the light, they’d leave behind said earthly existence and quit scaring the bejesus out of the poor folks who run across them. That’s what all those “ghost hunter” shows on television tell us.
Let me tell you something. The living don’t know jack about the dead.
Not this dead chick, anyway.
_____________________________________________
Buy Waking Up Dead:
Paperback from these booksellers:
_____________________________________________
 About the Author
 Margo Bond Collins is the author of a number of novels, including Waking Up Dead, Fairy, Texas, and Legally Undead (forthcoming in 2014). She lives in Texas with her husband, their daughter, and several spoiled pets. She teaches college-level English courses online, though writing fiction is her first love. She enjoys reading urban fantasy and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about vampires, ghosts, zombies, werewolves, and other monsters.
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Connect with Margo
Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/vampirarchy
Be sure to add Fairy, Texas to your Goodreads bookshelves:https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19502285-fairy-texas

Be sure to add Waking Up Dead to your Goodreads bookshelves:http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18428064-waking-up-dead

Previous SPOTLIGHT Authors:
SPOTLIGHT AUTHOR #2:  Katie Hayoz
SPOTLIGHT AUTHOR #1: Jennie Sherwin
And...
The Rave Reviews Book Club Current Selection:
Daydream's Daughter, Nightmare's Friend
by Nonnie Jules
 Daydream's Daughter, Nightmare's Friend



Sunday, February 2, 2014

Memory Bank

One of my earliest memories is of my first bank, a piggy bank. I was two years old so forgive me if I can’t recall all of the details - like where I got it. In my mind, it seems like my Grandpa gave it to me but I’m not really sure, he may have just been there and my brain associated the bank with him.

Now, I’ll describe what I do know. The bank was indeed a pig, but not a pink one. It was green - almost a fluorescent green. Made out of thin plastic, it was small enough to hold in one hand; about three inches long by two inches tall, and maybe an inch and a half thick. So, it didn’t hold a lot of money. But that was okay; I didn’t have a lot of money! (Hmm, that should have been a clue - some things never change).

I couldn’t wait to deposit my money and soon stuffed it full of pennies. I left the pennies in there for what seemed like an eternity, but knowing how kids view time it was probably no more than a few days. At some point, I decided I wanted to make a withdrawal - and that presented a problem. The only opening was the small slot on the top, and being jammed full of pennies, the bank was not real cooperative when it came to parting with my stash. Of course, this was a little upsetting to me.

But apparently, my stubborn streak started long ago; I wasn’t about to give up. That was my money and I wanted it back! Time to rob a bank!

This was the longest and most drawn out bank robbery in history. I worked for what seemed like an eternity, holding the green little pig upside down and shaking. And shaking. And more shaking. It was a slow process but eventually a few pennies fell out. And then a few more, as I shook more vigorously.

When the bank was finally empty, I stared at the offending little pig for a minute or so and then clinched my fist tight around it. The flimsy plastic crumpled (with a bit of help from the other hand) and I had an instant feeling of satisfaction. I thought I was He-Man! Well, maybe not, I’m sure I hadn’t heard of He-Man at that point of my life. But I did feel mighty powerful and strong - I had crushed a bank!

The other day, I was reading a news story about a bank in some small country locking their doors and preventing depositors from withdrawing their money. Naturally, the people who lost their savings were angry - and I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t like it either. I’m no longer two years old and my bank isn’t a green piggy bank, but if my financial institution were trying to steal my money... My reaction may be similar to what it was way back then.

RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB


Featured Selection
Daydream’s Daughter, Nightmare’s Friend
by Nonnie Jules

_______________________________


Katie Hayoz


Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books. Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and other titles, are available as ebooks on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®, Kobo, Diesel Books, and Smashwords. His books are also available in paperback at most online retailers or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. The popular Wynn Garrett Series Books are now available on Barnes And Noble® at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/?series_id=867526 Bruce also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com