Monday, December 29, 2014

the Masters M.C.-New Series, New Site

Ya'll may have read previously that the Not Even Death series was meant to be a quick little distraction while I was editing the novel "Golden Doll". But before N.E.D. there was another story asking to be told.

Cover concept-not actual cover
Clearly I get much of my inspiration from music--this was no different. I kept hearing the song--have continued to hear the song--on an almost daily basis. The song became a full on soundtrack, the characters grew--branched off into family trees--until finally the story was almost literally screaming to be told. Like a child throwing a tantrum, I finally had to address it or continue to be tormented by it's clamoring.

The song-"Tuesday's Gone With the Wind". The story-The Masters M.C. #1-Property Of will hopefully be released before summer of 2015. *Unless its picked up by a publisher-in which case I'll be the one screaming while I wait for its release.*

The book is so aggressive it demanded its own website, go check it out The Masters M.C

I'm almost finished with Not Even Death #3-ALWAYS Your Master (which I've been advised to send to publishers as well.) The storyline for the last installment in the Not Even Death series is mapped out too.

As 2014 comes to a close, I can see a bustle of activity coming for 2015. None of it is as exciting to me as this new story.

Here is a teaser from the prologue, ride on over to their site for more to taste the unique flavor the Masters M.C. has on the menu.


All over Louisiana there are myths and legends—stories told and retold to fit the spice of the storyteller’s palette. Dis particular legend is true—and its mine. Its flavor is spicy—hot—blackened. Sometimes it’s even black and blue.

Dis is da legend of Tuesday Grace Billeaux and the Masters M.C. A true tale for the ages if der ever was one.

It started in Bayou Country like so many of dem do—but then it headed for a different swamp. Maybe you’ve heard of da Everglades? In between I bounced all over da south. I never really knew who I was—only what Mama told me to be and what my sister told me I was.

I musta turned over every rock between here and der looking for a place to fit. It usually led to bein’
between dat rock and some damn hard place. 

But, ain’t that always the way? 


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