May I introduce: J.F. Jenkins "The Dark Hour"

 

The Dark Hour

By J.F. Jenkins 

What or who inspires you when you think of a new story?

I tend to think of my inspiration as divine inspiration. I get it at night, usually when I sleep, and I believe firmly it is a gift from God because my dreams are just too interesting to be something my brain makes up on its own. Then I start to put pieces together over time, and eventually start writing and putting out the story. 
 

Do you have a favourite author?

 I have a few authors I love and admire for the work they've done. In terms of technique and just attitude, I love Stephen King. I don't read all of his books, but I do love his style, his ability to break the rules, and his blunt way of talking about writing as a process in general. We've got a lot in common.

 

Tell us about your current project

My latest project is a science fiction story for Young Adults. It's coming of age and deals with a lot of conspiracy theory stuff. I can't really say too much more about it because then it would spoil the entire book. 

 
 

Blurb:
 

 Becca Simpson is a not so average teenager, and she knows it. In fact, she embraces it. She was cho-sen to be a Keeper, one who keeps the gates sealed between the magic world and the "normal" world. The only time she isn't safe from the dark creatures of the Other Side is the Dark Hour. Every night, at the same time, the gates between the two worlds open and Becca is left vulnerable until the gate closes and the minions disappear. But that's why she has Erik Manchester. As her Guardian, Erik is in charge of making sure no one, or no thing, comes after her to take her away. Because waiting for her on the Other Side is a tyrannical emperor, looking to use her status to meld the two worlds into one.

With Erik, Becca feels safe, but suffocated. There are rules she has to follow in order to keep out of the hands of the emperor. Then Kyne walks into her life and challenges everything she knows. Not only does he know things about the Other Side, but he's from there. And found a way to stay in the normal world without frying.

 

 

Author:

J.F. Jenkins lives in Minneapolis Minnesota with her husband, son, and two cats. She graduated from Bethel University in 2006 with a degree in Media Communication with minors in both writing and film. When she is not busy writing, she spends her free time playing games, reading, and spending time with her family. 

FB: http://www.facebook.com/jfjenkinsauthor

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/jfjenkinstweets 

 

Purchase Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Hour-Keepers-J-F-Jenkins-ebook/dp/B00HUIR36Y

 

 

 

 

This Week's Book Choice - J.F. Jenkins "Displaced"

 

Displaced

by J.F. Jenkins

 

 

Blurb: 

Chevelle Donahue thought going into work would be just like any other boring day at the mall. Sure, there was her annoying co-worker Wicken Sanders, and a promotional visit from teen heartthrob Timber Hudson, to watch and keep her entertained. But who was she kidding? Working retail was lame no matter what happened.

A terrorist attack changes everything - an attack from aliens of all things. The patrons are given two options: comply or else. Complying means giving in to a new set of rules and changing her entire life. "Or else" means she has no chance of going home again.

She must figure out the truth behind why the aliens are holding everyone hostage. In doing so, she risks her chance at freedom - but by the time she learns what's really happening, she might not want it.

 

Excerpt:

I want to say it’s a Thursday, and the middle of January. I’m not sure exactly because I haven’t seen a calendar since the end of October. The one we kept in the apartment ran out, and all of the others have been destroyed in the effort to make sure all of us poor, inferior humans submit to the ways of the Achlivan. We were able to draw one on our bathroom wall. It’s small, but it does the job.

It took some time, but I think I’m finally able to accurately document everything that’s happened in the past three months. For a while, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be ready. I’ve seen things I wish I could forget, and as much as I want to just go along with the way of these aliens, I can’t.

Letting go of my past life is not easy, and I’m terrified of forgetting it. Someday, the human race will be free from captivity, and when that day comes, they’ll need to know what happened and how life used to be. They’ll need to know that our species was once part of a thriving civilization.

That’s why I’m writing this.

I remember the day the Achlivans came vividly. It was warm, which was something to cherish in late October in Minnesota. The weather there was always so temperamental, like Mother Nature had PMS. One day it’d be gorgeous, and the next there would be three feet of snow. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of July. That day, I want to say it was around sixty degrees. Jeans and a sweatshirt kind of weather.

Like most days before I had to open at work, I didn’t sleep the best the night before. Something about the anticipation of having to wake up with my alarm clock always messed with my ability to relax. I had the same problem during school too. Any time I had to wake up before my body actually wanted to messed with my head. I don’t think I need to elaborate how going to bed at two in the morning on a regular basis didn’t make for waking up at a time before eleven often. It all comes with being a night owl. At school, I had the ability to schedule my classes around that. Work on the other hand left me at the mercy of my manager. Because I needed money – badly – opening was something I had to suck up and deal with.

The store opened at ten, so it wasn’t like I had to get up at some ungodly hour in the morning or anything. Still, the morning of the attack, I was having a hard time wanting to get out of bed. I groaned several times and opted out of taking a shower just for the extra half an hour of sleep.

My alarm went off on my cell phone one last time. If I hit the snooze button and stayed in bed, I’d be on the chopping block at work. The fifty cents over minimum wage that I got an hour was almost enough for me to say screw it all and stay in bed. Unfortunately, it was still more money than I had in my bank account.

As if he could read my mind, my chihuahua, Burrito, jumped up onto my chest and started to lick my face until I couldn’t breathe. Dog breath filled my nostrils, slobber covered my mouth and nose, and tiny paws scratched my neck and shoulders.

“Ugh, okay, I’m awake, I’m awake!” I carefully picked Burrito up and put him next to me. Then I reluctantly got out of my warm, cozy bed. Getting dressed took all of five minutes since I threw on my jeans from the day before which were still laying on the floor, my navy Toy Tech T-shirt that I needed for work, the first pair of socks and necessary undergarments I could find in my top dresser drawer, and my amazingly comfortable work shoes. All that was left to do was pull my long, straight, boring, dark hair back into a ponytail.

I was halfway up the stairs when my Mom called down to me. “Chevelle, if you don’t get up here soon you’re going to be late! Breakfast is ready for you!”

“I’m right here, relax,” I said, meeting her at the top of the steps. “You cooked? Wait, of course you cooked. You’re always cooking.”

“Someone has to make sure you’re eating right. I figured you’d be thanking me so you didn’t have to eat all of that cafeteria college food.” Mom threw up her hands and shook her head. “All right honey, I can take a hint. You’re an adult now and you don’t need me to baby you.”

I gave her a big hug. “Baby me all you want. I just don’t have a lot of time to eat a big breakfast. Like you said, I’m going to be late. Besides, do the words freshmen fifteen mean anything to you?”

She laughed. “If you’ve gained fifteen pounds already, you’re hiding it well.”

Truth was, I’d gained five pounds. Pants should not be such a chore to get on. Would my mother have understood this? Over time, but not until I lost control over my weight gain and it became painfully obvious it was there. I didn’t want things to get that bad and, like most American teenage girls, I believed I already needed to lose ten pounds as it was just to feel good about myself.

Ignoring her comment, I took a cold toaster pastry from out of the box and rushed to grab my purse and hoodie from school. “I’ll be back for dinner! Love you!” I called out before I headed out the door.

Those were the last words I spoke to my mother.


Link:
http://www.amazon.com/Displaced-The-Achlivan-Cycle-ebook/dp/B00DTLOZ30