That sounds funny.
I'm picturing Kindle, a little old man, wearing really tiny pale blue shorts. He's sitting in one of those old orange and yellow striped plastic chairs, holding a sex on the beach in his hand. He's sipping it through a crazy straw. I'm disturbing myself, honestly, with the images.
Anyway, it's really Kindle Short Stories I'm talking about. They take about an hour to two hours to read. Quick and fun. And I have a few lined up, I call them FLIRTS...I'm hoping to publish one a month as I write my longer books.
Here's a little peek at the covers I came up with...
Attention all awesome people! This month is a cool time to be a reader. 101 of your favorite authors contributed to one massive giveaway! Giveaway rules are listed on the rafflecopter. International peeps can play! Got any questions? Feel free to ask. There are 100 ways to enter for a maximum possible 500+ entries per person. The giveaway lasts the entire month of April, so come back every day and hammer away at a few more entries until you're all done!
ONE PERSON WILL WIN $3,000 USD! That's the biggest giveaway I've seen recently! Tell your buds! Don't miss out. You'll kick yourself if you miss this one.
Terms & conditions are listed on the rafflecopter. Read it for full details. The winner will be chosen on May 1, 2016 and contacted via the email address they used to enter. CHECK YOUR EMAIL! The winner's name will also be posted on the rafflecopter widget above.
Participating Romance Authors:
101 different authors came together to make this giveaway possible. If you've been looking for a new book boyfriend, or you're literally famished between your fave author's releases, check out some of my peeps! They write in various hot romance genres including contemporary romance, new adult romance, erotic romance, steamy romance, urban fantasy romance, dystopian romance, historical romance, futuristic/ sci-fi/ fantasy romance, Teen/ YA romance, inspirational romance and time travel romance!
Must be 18 years of age or older to win. No cash value. Void where prohibited. Open to international & US residents. *The winner will receive an e-gift card via PayPal in the amount of $3000USD for this prize.* Winner must have: 1. an email account, 2. may be requested to fill out additional paperwork for tax purposes, and 3. must have a PayPal account to accept the prize. We are not responsible for fees taken by PayPal for this transaction, nor are we in any way responsible for VAT and/ or taxes. We are not responsible for items damaged or lost in the e-mail. This promotion is in no way sponsored, endorsed or administered by, or associated with, Facebook. We hereby release Facebook of any liability. By entering you agree that we are in no way to be held liable for anything pertaining to this giveaway. Winner(s) will be contacted by email 72 hours after the giveaway ends. You must claim your prize within 48 hours or it is forfeited and another winner will be selected. If you have any additional questions - feel free to send us an email!
As I was waiting to publish this baby I played around with iMovie... I'm not that bad. Here's the book trailer for Suite 269, releasing October 4! All video and music have been purchased! Can't wait for you guys to read this sexy little story!
As I wait for my next book to be polished (yes it'll be out soon!) I've been cleaning up my computer. I found the beginning of a weird story that I barely remember writing... I'm a bit intrigued as to what the hell I was thinking and where I was going with it... It's unedited so don't go yelling at me for mistakes--I make a ton of them.
shivering in front of his door in the greyish overcast shadows of the
afternoon, my belly flutters low with rolls that would outshine the thunder
that rumbles across the sky.Cool rain slicks
dark strands of my hair to my neck and plasters the thin cotton of my shirt
across my breasts.Fat drops of rain
cling to my eyelashes and stream down my cheeks.
The need to see
him consumes me.I’ve tried to make a
conscious effort not to end up here, in front of his door, but he has spread his
poison in me like a growing disease—purging everything that’s me and leaving
only him behind.
When the light
from the door stretches a long shadow of my body behind me I shiver harder
against the cool droplets of rain that have now seeped into the white cotton of
He steps to the
side and jerks his head harshly, a hard raw greeting.As I pass I can feel the heat rolling off his
skin and the predatory look in his eyes makes my throat dry.This is my dark place, where fear stands
tall, and love and obsession have a thin blurry line that I can no longer see.
of rain across the floor, I let my bag slide off my shoulder and fall into the
growing puddle beneath my feet.
His long legs stride
past me, and he grabs an open beer bottle from off the kitchen table bringing
it slowly to his lips.He doesn’t offer
me anything.Not even a goddamn towel to
dry myself off with.
Dark eyes travel
slowly up my body until they lock onto mine. “Name,” he demands.
“And…Scarlett…to what do I owe this
curiosity,” I explain.
wet,” he smirks.
“You have no
idea,” I whisper.
He’s on me before
I can see him move.My back slams against
the door and as he cups his thick hands under the flesh of my skirt, he lifts
me off my feet sliding me against the wood grain of the door.Lips devouring mine, tongue tasting me
deeply, teeth biting roughly, I hook my legs around his waist to get closer.
“You should be
terrified of me, Scarlett,” he says, pulling roughly away from my mouth.
“Oh Gunnar,” I
offer up a little chuckle.“Is that what
you call a threat?”
He runs his lips
along my jaw, slowly sliding them up against my ear, “Why, Scarlett is this a
The thick fingers
holding me against the door are now digging deeper into my flesh.“I wouldn’t play games if I were you.”The dark rasp of his threat lay just beneath
his lips despite the hint of a smile that peeks out.His hands tighten.Painfully.
“Wasn’t playing a
game,” I say in the calmest voice I could gather.
The grip on the
back of my thighs squeezes my flesh tighter, his fingers dig in along the trim
of my panties, teasing what lay underneath.His weight leans into me more, crushing me against the wall.I want to wiggle, to move just a little to
try to get those fingers to slip further into where I want them.
“Don’t try and
struggle now, pretty little Scarlett.You can’t get away,” he says, grinding his hips in between my thighs,
rolling his arousal against the heat.
“I’m not trying…”
I hiss as his rough fingertips dip under the damp material.
“Shut up.” Gunner
circles his hips again, and then again, and fuuuck,
Despite us both
being totally clothed, the movements are obscene and so damn arousing.
Then as abruptly
as he pounced, he quickly releases his hold on my legs, taking a step back
causing me to slide down the door and hit my ass to the floor hard.His shirt had ridden up, his long hair
snarled and tangled from my fists; he looks every bit of breathless as I felt.
all he says.
Clawing my way to
my feet, I stand unsteadily by the door.
Walking back into
the kitchen he removes another beer from the refrigerator, biting off the cap
with his teeth, and spitting it to the floor.Reaching out his arms, fully colored tattoos dance above the movement of
his muscles, he graba a flat black gun off the top of the counter and shoves it
in the waistband of his pants.
“I said leave.
You’re too easy to fucking break,” he growls.
“You got that
wrong Gunnar. I’m already broken.”
But I leave anyway—walk
right out the door. Because I know. I
know when he realizes who I am—when he realizes what I am—he
won’t be asking me to leave. He’ll be fighting for me to stay.
I've been working on a secret project with a bunch of other talented authors.
The first one I have ever been in.
It's not your usual anthology either.
You know you want to read something a little different.
It's called Beneath the Cape--the Superhero Anthology and it was created with the sole purpose of benefiting the Wounded Warrior Project.
Stay tuned for more info soon. In the meantime, here's the first few pages of my short story that will be in the anthology...
Heroes by Christine Zolendz...July 2015
This can't be happening to me. Can't be. There's a good chance I may puke up this morning's breakfast all over myself. Folding my arms around my middle, I squeeze myself hard to stop the whirling, unnerving feeling slowly bubbling up my esophagus.
Okay, just breathe and focus.
I'm trying to read the words on the paper, but they just blur in front of my eyes. They can't seem to hold my interest. Nothing does. Not when I'm sitting this close to him. We're in the University's faculty conference room. They have all of the teaching assistants going through all the preliminaries before the start of classes. Claire's next to me, whispering things into my ear I'm not listening to. There's a clinking of water glasses and a few restrained murmurs. I can't make out any more of the noises though; even sounds get blurry when he's near.
My breakfast sloshes and churns unpleasantly around in my belly. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray I don't hurl. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
That doesn't help. It just gives me a hot rush of vertigo.
My heart feels like it's beating at the base of my throat, loud and fast. I wonder if anyone around me notices how flushed I am. God, this is simply embarrassing.
I nervously twirl my pen through my fingers as I sit around the table with all the heads and their TAs. Everyone listening intently to the President of the college and what he's saying. Everyone save for me, who's been staring like a dork at the man sitting across from me–Alexander Masters. Just the sight of him is startling. Dazzling. It's quite sickening actually, the way the skin of my cheeks heats in reaction to him.
They should sell repellant for types like him.
Better yet, types like him just shouldn't exist. It would be so much better for me to not have to fumble to find words whenever he was in earshot of me.
Alexander Masters is one of those guys. The guys that have that haunting, brooding look about them–all serious, dark, and sexy. He's tall and quite muscular from what I could see. Graceful in a languid way. The features of his face are chiseled in rough, handsome curves and framed with messy, ash brown hair that always seems to defy the laws of gravity. His eyes, a deep sage green-almost gray, are strikingly handsome against his pale skin coloring. A small dotting of freckles covers the bridge of his nose and a small perfect indent sits on the bottom of his chin. I could sit and stare at him for hours, my eyes following his movements and gestures. And I had done so for my entire undergraduate degree. I'm surprised I ever retained any of what I'd been taught in the classes he assisted with. I bet any time he's ever chanced a look at me all he caught was the strange, wide-eyed girl with the long string of drool dripping from the side of her lips.
And he's brilliant. Handsome, smart, and sexy–a combination that causes me to I feel like a bashful schoolgirl any time I'm near him.
Yep. Some sort of anti-hot guy spray would be really useful right about now.
Papers are being handed out. Bodies shift and people start murmuring. I should be listening, but my nerves are fraying; unraveling and peeling off me like a shedding skin.
Claire leans closer, bumping into my shoulder. Her rose scented perfume thickens the air. She puts too much of that stuff on; it's stifling. "Lord, that man is perfect," she whispers.
Perfect. I inhale deeply and exhale on a sigh. Perfect isn't the right word. His presence steals the breath from my lungs in one glance. That's not perfect. That's just...hell I don't even know what that is.
"Shh," I hiss, shooting her a harsh glance. This isn't a club. It's a conference room.
My attention drifts back to Alexander. He's the newly promoted head of the biology department, taking the title from my beloved advisor, Doctor Mortimer Peeks. This is supposed to be my chance to show the department what I'm made of. Show this crappy town I could be something. This fellowship is my ticket into the PhD program–my chance for a future.
I just hadn't expected Doctor Peeks to be stepping down and Alexander to be stepping up. He couldn't be older than twenty-five, and now he's the head of the entire biology department and all its research facilities.
"I overheard one of the other graduate students say he was at Lobo's last night. Imagine? Someone saw him in your neck of the woods," Claire whispers, closely. I try not to gag from her words. The rumors that follow him are like none I've ever heard. Troubled, withdrawn, brooding, brilliant, and arrogant. Mysterious. Untouchable. "What in the world would a professor from this high and mighty place be doing down in Dark Creek in that shitty bar?"
I narrow my eyes at her. What a spoiled, rich little princess.
"Sorry, no offense or anything," she mumbles.
Right, sure. No offense. Working in that shitty little bar paid my tuition. I don't have a pair of rich parents funding my education or every fancy whim. I don't even have parents.
Shaking my head at her, I try to focus more on what's being said, but the click of Alexander Master's pen snaps my concentration right back to him.
Repellant. Something to negate the pheromones that pulsate from his pores and smack right into my face. I swallow hard; there's way too much saliva in my mouth. Click-click. I'm now obsessed with staring at his thumb. Click-click. He has great hands. Click-click. How would they feel on my skin? Click-click. I bet they’d feel good.
Claire pinches my side and my own pen drops to the table. "You're staring at him and practically humping your seat. You naughty girl," she laughs low.
I flick her leg under the table and pretend to ignore her. She knows Alexander Masters has been my idol in the field of biochemistry for my entire undergrad career. Until there was some sort of trouble last year when the whole research team was disbanded. I never thought I'd get to see him again. Now he's right across from me. Sitting this close to him is the same thing as sitting right on the sun. It makes my body erupt in flames. It's utterly paralyzing.
The pretty, blonde haired student just to his right leans into him and whispers into his ear. His lips, full and perfect, curve into a sinful smile. I wonder what she said to him that made him smile like that. My heart thuds a slow beat in my chest and my stomach coils with knots. This is insanity. Why am I so nervous in front of him? Why would I care if someone whispers in his ear?
Just breathe. Breathe. Focus, Kelly. Try to be a professional.
I'm so flustered and confused. I think...I think if Doctor Peeks isn't going to be here...I think that means I'll be assisting Alexander Masters. And now I feel faint. Why can't I focus?
Then the conference ends. It's just suddenly over.
People are standing, moving, and walking away from their seats and I have no clue what I've missed.
I have no notes. I have no idea what's expected of me. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub the heels of my hands into them. Why does this have to happen to me? Why do I have to turn into a frigging idiot every time we're in the same room? When I open my eyes, just behind a few floating black spots, I watch as his gaze travels across the table then dart up and lock on mine.
Is staring right at me.
He is now aware that I exist. Sitting across from him, mouth gaping open, and rocking my whole idiot look.
He continues staring at me.
I feel it spread over me like the hit of a drug–driving pure adrenaline through my veins, swelling into my capillaries, and splurging out the pores of my skin. I'm instantly sweaty and sticky, and I desperately want to lower my eyes and look away from him, but I can't. His gaze traps mine and I'm a helpless, stuttering imbecile.
I think everyone is leaving, grabbing up files and supplies, heading to wherever we were told to go. Yet I'm frozen like a wild animal caught on the tracks of an oncoming pheromone train.
Suddenly, my lungs tighten and constrict. The air feels too heavy to breathe in. He cocks his head, narrows his eyes, and takes a deep, long breath.
I clench my hands over the papers in front of me. My pen rolls off the table with the sudden movement and static electricity snaps up my legs as I slide my sneakers out against the thick conference room rug beneath me.
His eyes quickly sweep across my face, devouring every inch of me. My cheeks, my lips, my hair, my neck, as if it's the first time he's seen me. Maybe it is. Maybe I've been invisible to him for the last four years I've been watching him from a distance. Whatever reason, his survey of me is alarming, puckering goose bumps across the surface of my skin wherever his gaze touches.
My belly swims with rolling waves. I feel as if I'm on a small boat out on the chopping waters in the middle of an icy cold sea. If I don’t get up and run, I’m going to drown.
Swallowing hard, I gather as much strength as I can, lift off from my seat, and stand up on the opposite side the conference table from him. My struggling breath is embarrassing me. It's just a guy. I mean, seriously, Kelly you've been through loads of them. This one is no different.
But he is; he is so different.
Maybe it's the effect of his stare. Everywhere he looks my body wakens and becomes aware of the distinct area. My lips pulse as he stares at them. My cheeks burn and tighten when his attention moves there. And when his scrutiny slowly slides down my throat and takes in my neck, collarbone, and then breasts, they each in turn ache and become heavy with a strange, overwhelming pressure.
It makes me feel heat against my skin. It makes me feel everything–like the air hitting the loose strands of my hair and the rub of the soft material of my shirt over my flesh. God, I even feel the snugness of the fabric of my pants, the tingling of its touch against me, and the rise of the small hairs all over my body.
Oh, God. I have to leave.
Crunching the papers in my fist, I shove them quickly into my bag. They crumple and rip. I hear it loud in my ears, along with the shift of Alexander's body as he pushes off the table directly across from me and stands. I tear my eyes off him and let my wide-eyed stare fall somewhere on the floor by my feet. The pen that fell lies by the leg of my chair. I'm afraid if I bend down to get it, I'll never get back up again. This is stupid and childish. My body reacts as if I'd never felt the gaze or touch of a man before. And I have, so many times. Maybe too many times, if I’m being honest.
I step away from the table. Tilt my head up high and walk my way towards the door. There's an unreadable expression plastered on his face as I pass him and step out into the hallway.
The hallway; where the air is cooler and thinner, and so much easier to take into my lungs.
I hear him moving and shuffling papers behind me, but I don't dare glance back over my shoulder. How can I? I'm like the ultimate fan-girl and I'm terrified of the drool hanging from my mouth whenever he's in the same room as me.
Claire waits for me at the end of the hallway with both eyebrows raised high. I rush toward her like an idiot. "You are a complete geek," she says, grabbing my elbow. "How are you supposed to be his assistant if you're a bundle of orgasms waiting to explode?"
"Ugh. I feel sick...Just please tell me you heard what I have to do, because I don't even know my own name right now."
"Yes, sweetie. Just show up at his office Monday at nine. Wear something sexy. Classes start on Tuesday. The faculty mixer is tomorrow night." She skips out in front of me and waves. "I have another meeting in ten minutes. You working tonight or can we do dinner?"
"Working, of course." I wave back at her and watch her bounce down the hall backwards, giving me her little frowny face.
Everyone rushes outside through the building's enormous windowed doorway. I watch as they all quickly bow their heads and pull up their bags or binders as a shield from whatever weather pelts them from the sky overhead. The wind so strong, they stagger down the steps almost sideways. Of course it's raining. I'd taken my bike to school. I needed another mode of transportation, but buying a car is out of the question right now with my savings tapped dry. My bicycle was a safer option anyway; nobody around here wants to steal a bright pink, ten-speed bike.
I run out and rain splatters harshly across my face. My sneakers seep into the mud and squelch loudly as I run across the lawn.
By the time I reach where I'd chained up my ride, my jeans are sopping wet and they squash and pinch as I pull my leg over the seat. I fling my bag behind me to drape down my back and grab my helmet.
As I push the snap into my headgear Alexander walks by, eyeing me questionably; like I'm some sort of pathetic creature. There's definitely judgment in his stare. I could see it clearly written across his face. Maybe he doesn't think I belong here. Poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks, and now he's stuck with me as his teaching assistant. I'll prove to him I belong here. Without a doubt in my mind, I know I can.
He melts into the crowd of people, pulling out an umbrella, and walks through the sheets of rain, splashing up water with his boots. Just before I watch him cross the north lawn, he glances over his shoulder to look at me, his umbrella whipping madly above his head. His eyes meet mine and he hesitates for a brief moment before vanishing in a blur of watery winds and a smile.