In a
modern twist of fairy tales,
what if
the beast is a woman instead of a man?
Ethan
Scott
I was about to find out when a
mysterious job led to the secluded home of a horror novelist. I’d lost
everything: my scholarship, my education, and my way. In denial of my family
inheritance, I took the unusual employment as a chance out of a hole, but I
found myself buried in the unknown trauma of another situation much deeper.
Ella Vincentia
I had changed my name and my
address to keep myself hidden, but my scars were more than physical. Living as
a recluse in the woods, I was used to being alone, so I wasn’t happy when a
certain someone was always in my space. Our first encounter was less than
pleasant and tension continued at every attempt to tame me.
Secrets
I knew she was
keeping secrets and I wanted to help, but she was cutting me down and cutting
me off every time she opened her mouth. Our frustration with one another grew
until a misunderstanding changed everything. How can I be the next guy after something
so tragic? It was a challenge I wasn’t sure I was willing to take
BUY LINKS:
About
the Author
L.B. Dunbar loves to
read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has
relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional
romances, and historical romances. A
romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as
if that was a bad thing. When not
reading, she’s usually driving one of her four growing children somewhere. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in
Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and children.
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I’d like to say I was
always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life
since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students
because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have
my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things.
I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend
said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good
and tell a story?
As a teenager, I wrote
your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor
me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I
didn’t keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the
mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn’t
allowed to read as a twelve year old.
I can say that books
have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The
Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been
my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the
unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a
book.
So why writing now?
I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I
just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn’t. Three years after
writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that
draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But
one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into
my head and a new storyline was created.
I was accused (that’s
the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that
was a bad thing. I’ve also been accused of having the personality of a
Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step
ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll
like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book
boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take
time for yourself and read a book.
L.B. Dunbar
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