Friday, December 27, 2013

Insanity goes deeper than the soul. At least that's what 27 year old Jeremy Pearce is beginning to experience. He sees the devil; a devil who is hell-bent on bringing down the apocalypse. Will Jeremy be able to save the world before it's too late?
Available in Paperback and Kindle formats from Amazon.

Buying Link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HJ7KXTU
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18964823-i-see-the-devil

Here's an excerpt: 

 “How’re doing Jeremy,” he asks, me but I know he doesn’t really need an answer.

“I’m fine,” I reply in the same monotone.
“Dr. Schmidt, your previous therapist, showed me your file.”
I say nothing.
I know the question is coming.
It’s in his head.
He’s been looking at my file. So the question has to be right there on the tip of his tongue right about now, waiting to be spoken. But he keeps up the ‘act professionally’ charade, makes it feel like he sees this kind of thing all the time, but in reality he’s having a little fun with it. I’m the story he’s going to tell at a bar after making my name anonymous. I’m the case study that’s going to become dinner conversation when he takes some rich bitch out next week. He’s going to do it to make himself look well-balanced, prove how normal he is in a world full of weirdoes. In short, he’s going to look ‘normal’ at my expense.
“Jeremy Pearce,” he starts reading from his notes. “Twenty-eight. History of drug abuse. Second time being institutionalized. Says here you managed to break out of here the last time?”
“Must be true if it’s in the file.”
He smiles. That I am-such-a-great-person-for-giving-you-the-time-of-day smile. “Would you like to tell me exactly what it is that Dr. Schmidt was treating you for?”
“You read my file.”
“I just want to hear it. In your words.”
He wants to hear it. A real story to tell at his friend’s bachelor party:  So this guy comes in the other night and he thinks the world’s going to end. My file isn’t amusement enough.
So I give him what he needs. “I see the Devil.”
I let the words stay out there for a bit, I want him to get his money’s worth. I want to make sure all his years of study and research, and decades of pretending to know what he’s doing don’t go to waste. “When you say devil—?”
“I mean the Devil doc,” I say. “King of Hades. Biblical Evil Guy. He’s here and he’s real.”
I know how hard he must be trying to hold back that laughter, but he’s had so much more practice than any of the other people I’ve told this. “Okay Jeremy,” he says. “So why does the Devil appear to you?”
“He says he wants me to do something,” I tell him. “Says he needs my help.”
“Help? Doing what?”
I pause. This has to be dramatic. One day he may even end up writing a book about it. A book that explains to the world the true heroic nature of his work, how he is the beacon of sanity and intellect on this bizarre planet of madness and how much he cares.  
I look straight into his brown eyes, hoping he sees the glimmer of tears in mine. “Because,” I stammer. “He wants to bring down the apocalypse.” 

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

 
Michaelene McElroy Blog Tour


Cover Photo/Banner
Blog Tour


 

"I believe many writers will understand when I say that rather than choosing to write the story, the character chose me to tell her story, and set our initial meeting up in an unusual way.  While on the treadmill in my home office while still living in California, I was listening to a piece on NPR about inmates on death row and the significance of their last meal when I heard a small voice, steeped in the way of the South, ask me what I would want for my last supper.  Needless to say, I hopped off the treadmill, sat down in front of my computer and started writing everything she had to say.
As her story unfolded, it spoke to my own experience with the power of food shared with love, the communion that takes place between the giver and receiver, and the eternal bond that remains long after the giver has departed from this world to the next.  Writing The Last Supper Catering Company allowed me to reexamine the world through the innocent, non-judgmental, and forgiving, eyes of B. Thankful Childe-Lucknow.  She is the embodiment of all I long to be, all that I long the world to be.”


Synopsis:
“The Last Supper Catering Company “, tells the story of B. Thankful Childe-Lucknow. Turned out with red corkscrew hair, one eye brown, the other green, and gifted with the power to hear the voices of the departed, B. Thankful is cast aside by the town as the devil’s child and lives an isolated upbringing in the woods. Tragedy, followed by the discovery of a long-forgotten paint-by-number picture of the Last Supper, thrusts B. Thankful from the safety of everything she has ever known. Beyond the boundary of her sheltered life, B. Thankful discovers the world’s hard edges as well as its beauty.  More importantly, with the help of a cast of quirky and tenderhearted souls, she discovers why God made her special.

To learn more about B. Thankful Childe-Lucknow and Michaelene McElroy check out these links!


Author Website & Blog: http://www.michaelenemcelroy.com/
Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thelastsuppercateringcompany?ref=hl
Twitter http://bit.ly/NvFXXp
Book Links
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Last-Supper-Catering-Company-ebook/dp/B008XO9QJ6
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-last-supper-catering-company-michaelene-mcelroy/1112395097?ean=2940015849035
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/254797
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6455302.Michaelene_McElroy
Check this link out :  . http://www.booksnbrownies.com/p/the-last-supper-catering-company-bt.html



Blog Tour

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Being Human

I’m not gay.
I’m not lesbian.
I’m not straight.
I’m not your version of political correctness.
I’m not a conglomerate.
I’m not a communist.
I’m not a voter.
I’m not a politician.
I am just a human being.
Will you still accept me?
Will I fit in?
Will you have me without any of those labels on?
Will you still want to be my friend when you find out I have no beliefs?
I’m not an atheist.
I have no faith.
My only belief is not to have beliefs.
Will you still accept me?
Can I still be your friend?
I’m not a slut.
I’m not a virgin.
I’m not someone’s idea of a perfect person.
No.
I’m none of that.
Never will be.
I’m a clean slate.
Just trying to be a human being.