itsjoysworld.net

I was talking to Rebecca Fisher about her new business venture. She is now a consultant for Damsel in Defense. Normally, I would never use my blog to promote businesses. This blog is about my life adventures (where I fall on my ass) and the book. I promise a good story before I promote.

This business hits close to home. It promotes women taking charge of their life. Not being a victim, and defending themselves. Throughout the three books where Faith is the main character you watch her on a journey of becoming a self reliant woman. In the first book you meet her broken and bruised, and watch her become a woman she can be proud of. I do have her purchase keychain mace when she starts to grown into her own.

Being Faith and Kill’s story takes three books to tell it isn’t something that happens overnight. She was always strong .She knew right and wrong. It was her ability to stand up for this knowledge that takes awhile.

Rebecca asked me if I ever owned a stun gun. I went to describe my adventure in stun gun land.

My first year at Fresno State I dove into school. So much so, my first class would start at the ass~fuck crack of dawn and end when most families had already cleaned up the dinner dishes.

I should tell you this was before I uprooted my life to move to Texas for an asshole I met online. I knew there were bad people out there. I just hadn’t met my monster yet. I was in the clouds that nothing bad could happen to me. Young, dumb, and so much skinnier.

There was a scare around campus. A man was going around raping women. There were flyers all around campus telling us to stick together, and not walk by ourselves.

Because I got there so early I had to park far from campus. After my last class the once filled to capacity parking lot had tumbleweeds blowing through it. My mom gave me a stun gun in order to protect myself.

After carrying the damn thing around for weeks I actually had to reach for it. I have an overactive imagination and with those flyers taunting me at every corner my mind was on high alert.

Then someone started following me. At first I tried to stay calm, bur after seconds my ass was like “fuck that” and I started to walk faster. The person did the same. I reached into my knitted purse to get my stun gun. Because my purse was knitted everything was a jumbled mess inside. My stun gun was pointing up. I plunged into my purse in pure panic when I couldn’t find it. My finger hit the switch, and I shot myself on the inside of my wrist.

After keening a awful noise that most likely sounded like a cat in heat orgasming to its death the person behind said the “shit” turned around and scampered off.

I saved myself from who knows what. Maybe it was just a fellow student maybe someone more sinister, but who will save me from myself?

Damsels in Defense has a variety of items to empower women. The stun gun also has to be activated before you can use it. This would have came in handy. If you want to check out what they have please click on the website

http://www.mydamselpro.net/pro8340

I am thinking of weaving in Damsels in Defense products with my cover reveal. I want everyone to be safe even if it is just from themselves.

I was thinking about my mom since it was Mother’s day on Sunday. My mom is amazing, and her words of wisdom have helped me maneuver through this crazy life. Some of her advice was a bit unconventional to say it mildly but it worked.
The saying that scarred me the most…uhmm, I mean stuck with me the most was “don’t put money in your mouth, because gypsies store it in their butts.”
I know this is highly offensive, and I’m sorry to any gypsies. When I was little gypsies weren’t human in my mind, but evil creatures that struck a cord of fear anytime they were mentioned.
Gypsies were used to keep me in line as they also stole bad children from their parents and sold them to the circus. If you ask my mom she will tell you she never said this, and I made it up. I will tell you money has never breached my mouth, and the look of horror I get when I see people put money in their mouth solidifies her words stuck.
Another life gem, “if you have to pick your nose use your pinky so you don’t stretch out your nostril.” She probably won’t take credit for this one either.
When we were walking and passed a pole she made me hold the pole and circle around it while saying “peanut butter and jelly sandwiches” I have a feeling this was to make sure I would never be a stripper. Any auditions would be ruined as I circled the pole talking about sandwiches. (Smart mom)
According to my mom, Vicks vapor rub will heal any ailment. My mom uses Vicks vapor rub like the dad in my big fat greek wedding would use Windex.
In all seriousness my mom is my biggest supporter. She is and has always been there for me and I can call her whenever I need her.
Thanks, mom.
I love you. Happy late Mother’s day.

My author page reached 500 likes. I asked if you wanted a teaser or more pages. The answer I received was both. So for all my greedy readers your wish is my command.

Here is the link for my author page if you are interested.

https://www.facebook.com/joyeileenauthor

and the links for the first six pages…

https://itsjoysworld.net/2015/04/20/breaking-faith-as-promised/

https://itsjoysworld.net/2015/04/25/breaking-faith-3-more-pages-for-400-likes/

“Uhmm, no,” I replied, while I face-palmed myself in my head.

I had a full scholarship, earned straight A’s with a full load in my double major of Biology and Literature, but around him I became a bumbling idiot.

He hooked his arm around my shoulders, steering me toward his car, a silver Honda Civic. I’ll admit it made me sad when I saw his car; it felt somewhat anticlimactic.

We went to dinner and talked, well he talked the majority of the time. He acted interested when asking me questions to see if I fit in with his life, which I was desperate to do.

I convinced myself I didn’t mind his hostile takeover of our dinner conversation. I had never received attention from someone like Jason before. It was exhilarating and bewildering.

After dinner, we walked around. He became more interested in my life, allowing me to fill the rest of the walk with my interests. Driving back to the coffee shop, Jason’s true personality surfaced. That was the moment I should have known I needed to end all contact with him.

A car cut him off, and his face morphed into an angry red orb, the exact color of the guy he had berated that afternoon. He followed the wrongdoer, honking his horn, and screaming. The veins in his neck popped out so far I could almost trace the blood pumping through them.

The offender was an older gentleman in his seventies. I knew this because when Jason drove next to him, which meant riding halfway on the side walk, I got a good look at his terrified face.

I was unsure which one I should have been more afraid for; they both looked as if they were on the verge of having a heart attack.

Once Jason had scolded the poor man, he calmed. He threw me a quick smile while turning the car around to head back to Cool Beans, which we had passed in the pursuit.

I had my hand poised on the door handle so I could get out as soon as we stopped. In the parking lot, I jumped out of his car and ran to mine, throwing the door open. My only thought was of escaping.

“Hey, wait!” Jason yelled.

He was quicker than I gave him credit for because he grabbed onto the door as soon as I had opened it, sandwiching me in between him and the car.

“I’m sorry. I overreacted. It just scared me; he could have hurt you.” He ran a finger down my cheek, and I leaned into his touch.

“Don’t do it again,” I tried to scold him. The fact that I leaned into him with a goofy smile on my face, somewhat undermined the severity of the reprimand.

“Promise.” He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Can I see you tomorrow?” His brown eyes were making me weak in the knees, and hot everywhere else.

“Yeah, I get off at five.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips across mine.

“I will see you at five tomorrow, Faith.”

I nodded, not wanting to contemplate what I was getting into, telling myself he had a reasonable reaction.

Once he pulled out of the parking lot, I sat in my car breathing in through my nose and out of my mouth. I had a hard time pushing down the dread flowing through me. I allowed the explanation he was worried for my safety keep my apprehension at bay. Even though in the back of my mind I knew this was a bad sign.

Jason picked me up the next day, and the next several days after that. By the end of the week we were inseparable, and he had everyone in the coffee shop enamored.

I became swept up in the romance, and soon found myself unable to catch my breath from the whirlwind that was Jason. I pushed the road rage incident out of my head convincing myself I had overreacted.

The summer rushed by and I allowed myself to fall head over beautiful heels in love with Jason. We were together every waking moment, it seemed.

When Jason’s temper flared, I let him convince me it was because he thought I was in danger. I unplugged every bell and whistle going off in my head, blissful in their silence.

When summer ended, we were happy and in love. My mind refused to notice any other emotion. Jason had one more year left before graduating with a business degree.

For the first time, when we were registering for our classes, I was on the receiving end of Jason’s temper. Jason noticed the huge course load I signed up for, and he was furious. He screamed that I would never have time for him.

School being important to me made me stand my ground against Jason’s demands. I refused to let him sway me to take on a lighter load, not wanting to stray from the path I had methodically laid out.

Jason stopped showing up at the coffee shop. Upset he wanted me to give up my schooling for him, I refused to be sad about his absence, or so I told myself. His tantrum irritated me, and I allowed my anger to burn away the pain.

Jason showed up the day before school started, carrying a bouquet of red roses. He fell to his knees, telling me how much he missed me and couldn’t be separated from me a second longer.

Every woman’s panties in the coffee shop became wet when he strolled in carting the obscenely expensive roses.

I flipped the breaker to stop the warnings from shrieking. Running into his arms, I kissed him and told him how much I loved and missed him.

Watching the women swooning for Jason in the middle of the shop made me realize how lucky I was that he picked me. That night, I apologized and explained my actions were for our future.

During the semester I allowed myself to get swept up in the Jason vortex. His charm and good looks had my head in the clouds most of the day

No I didn’t publish Breaking Faith in the middle of the night and not tell anyone. I read on Facebook that there are some authors out there that review and give their books a five star review. I jokingly responded that at least I know I would have one five star review to brag about.

My brain wouldn’t let me stop there. Oh, no. Not this awkward girl. I started putting together what my review would actually say. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I would not give my book a five star review.

MY ONE STAR REVIEW OF BREAKING FAITH…..

I first would like to state that this book took me forever to finish. By the time it will be published it will have consumed almost two and half years of my life.

I want to say that this book put me on an emotional roller coaster, but that really isn’t the emotional image I am trying to obtain. It was like being on a continues bungee-jump. My stomach would drop, my blood pressure would rise, my adrenaline would spike.Right when I would level out, I would have to jump again. Each jump was higher than the last, and the puffy air mattress transformed to a calm lake, to a rapid river, to a jagged mountain bottom, to something even more treacherous.

The characters were relentless in making sure they were portrayed truthfully. I constantly had to change dialogue, as they would scream at me that at no time would they ever say such a thing. Usually they demanded their rewrites in the middle of the night when I was comfortably tucked under my fuzzy Harry Potter blanket.

The edits were pure torture. Red ink will haunt me for the rest of my life. The book manipulated me more than I manipulated it. The story took a hold of me, and refused to release me until it was the exact shape it wanted it to be. Most of the curves it took were not something even I had expected.

This book also made me more neurotic than I already am. I had to stop myself from editing it down to just saying, THE END. I am in the constant battle of it could be better. Let me rewrite this fucker, one more time. Honestly, if I don’t stop the madness, the whole structure will change and Faith will become telepathic, and Kill will become a vampire.

I now think everyone is a liar. I have let friends beta read, and they are all very nice in their comments. Some have suggestions. Most of their suggestions I have used. All of them I have respected. I just don’t believe them. I keep telling people I won’t believe it until I get my first one star review. Well, shit.

This book has made me a blanket fort master. I am also well established in the art of procrastination. I am usually determined when I set out to do something, and do not stop until I have finished whatever task I have started. Not with this sucker. Nope. I have been known to ignore the whole thing for months at at time, and then go into a manic state where I am immersed in it.

I will be pressing publish some time in August 2015. Sorry my stomach just tried to hide by flipping into itself. To any readers even if you decide it does deserve a one star review I appreciate you taking the time to read something has brought me to my knees numerous times.

Also whatever book you are reading please leave a review for the author. Reviews mean the world to us. We respect everything our readers have to say. And remember even if it isn’t your type of book. By explaining what wasn’t your thing may bring a potential reader to that same book.

The first three pages of Breaking Faith were such a hit, I was asked to post more. I promised when I my author page hit 400 I would post more.

If you have’t want to like my Facebook page

https://www.facebook.com/joyeileenauthor

and if you didn’t get to read the first three pages.

https://itsjoysworld.net/2015/04/20/breaking-faith-as-promised/

Keeping busy with my school work, I avoided the pity-filled stares from my peers. I owned my pariah status with pride, never letting them know how self-conscious they made me.

My scholarship was awarded before graduation, mocking my life of teenage solitude. When I received the acceptance letter, panic sliced through me and I flat out refused to leave. After much coaxing and bribing, of the Mustang variety, I reluctantly agreed to go.

I found myself without the foundation of my dad, in a new state, trying to find my way.

My freshman year was uneventful. Throughout the year I could be found in my dorm room studying. I wanted to make sure the university knew they weren’t wasting their time and money on me.

During summer break, I got a job at the local coffee shop, Cool Beans. The extra money assisted in my one non-school related obsession, shoes.

I was paranoid to use my savings. The money started accruing as soon as my mom, the flake, produced a positive pregnancy test. Worried that if I spent it on something frivolous, the universe would enact punishment. Guilt was not an emotion I wanted to surface when purchasing a new pair of heels; that would be tragic.

During my first shift at Cool Beans, I met Jason.

He had dark brown eyes that sparkled when he laughed, and sandy blonde hair chopped close to his head, reminiscent of the newly sworn in police cadets.

I couldn’t ogle the fine specimen in front of me, being there was an irate middle-aged customer, with a raging case of short man syndrome screaming at me. By accident, I put one shot of espresso in his coffee instead of the two he had ordered.

I figured I had unknowingly done him a favor.

Gazing at the bulging veins popping out of the angry customer’s neck, I remained patient, waiting for them to explode from the extreme strain they were under.

His hair had successfully emulated a cul-de-sac, and the buttons around his enlarged middle strained to stay together.

I apologized and remade his order when Jason came to my rescue. Jason spun Mr. One-Shot-Down around as if he weighed nothing.

The guy spewed an anger-filled rant until he saw the size of Jason and restrained the rest of his words. His cowardliness caused me to stare at the floor to hide a smirk.

“Apologize to her,” Jason commanded through clenched teeth.

The man turned bright red, refusing to do as Jason demanded.

Using the most convincing smile I could muster, I sputtered, “No, no it’s ok. I messed up his order.”

“No,” Jason declared, giving me a stern look, before turning his gaze back to the man he still had by the shoulders. “A missing shot is no reason to yell at a beautiful girl. Hell, she did your poor heart a favor.”

The firm look he gave his prisoner made him turn an even brighter shade of red. Jason’s hostage then noticed he held the attention of everyone in the coffee shop and struggled to get away. Jason just gripped him tighter.

I blushed after hearing this perfect specimen call me, of all people, beautiful. The captured customer muttered his apology, and only then did Jason release him.

As soon as the apology left his mouth, my first angry customer turned around and fled, not bothering to take the cup containing his now correct order.

“Thank you,” I said to my hero, trying to stand up straight and exude fake confidence.

He smiled and I swear I heard angels sing, or orgasm, whatever fit.

“You are welcome, but I don’t think your ‘thank you’ will be enough for what I just did.”

“Of course, your drink is on the house.”

I moved to make his drink, the one he hadn’t ordered yet. This made him throw back his head and laugh. The muscles in his neck bulged from his amusement, resembling the man he just released.

I gave him a puzzled look, confused by his laughter. He then asked me a question that threw my whole axis off balance. “What time do you get off?” He looked at my name tag and added, “Faith.”

“Uhmm, in four hours,” I replied, looking at the clock behind the espresso machine, still puzzled at what type of apology he thought he was entitled to receive.

He nodded and walked away. Right before he stepped out of the shop, he glanced at me with a wicked grin. “I will pick you up in four hours. My name is Jason, by the way.” He then winked and vanished.

My boss, Ginger, who had been watching with the rest of the customers, patted my shoulder, reaching around to close my open mouth with her index finger.

“Did that just happen?” I whispered, ignoring everyone else, still looking at the empty doorway.

“Yep,” Ginger responded, laughing and telling me to take a break.

In the bathroom I splashed cold water on my face, obsessing over every detail of our encounter.

Why me? I studied my face, yearning to find something, anything to validate Jason’s interest. I shook my head, assured the answer would continue to elude me.

My dark brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail giving me an unobstructed view of my face. Thanks to Portland’s fantastic weather, my skin had a pale hue to it, making my green eyes stand out large and uncertain. The smattering of freckles on my nose prominent under the fluorescent lighting.

I shook my head in disgust. Hell, if my own mother couldn’t stand to be near me, there was no reason for someone like Jason to spend any time with me.

I left the bathroom frustrated. As the minutes ticked away, I found myself getting more and more anxious. When my shift ended, I glanced around the coffee shop to check if he was there. I knew he wasn’t because I had scanned the room every time someone entered.

Of course he wouldn’t show up, someone that gorgeous had no reason to go on a date with me, I scolded myself, reiterating the dark thoughts I had in the bathroom. He probably was trying to get me to stop staring at him like some slack-jawed lackey.

I left the coffee shop feeling dejected and stupid for believing he meant what he said. As I headed to my car, I heard his deep voice behind me.

“Hey, you aren’t ditching me, are you?”

Stunned, I turned around to my knight in coffee justice leaning on the wall of the back entrance of the shop, his muscles doing that delicious bulgy thing.

I made a promise with my all too supportive friends, that when my tiny brand new author page hit 300 likes I would post the first three pages of Breaking Faith. I guess this also proves I have actually created a book, and I am not just blowing smoke up people’s butts. So without further procrastination…

Breaking Faith

Chapter 1

“Oww, shit!” I cried, as I pulled my oozing finger back and stuck it in my mouth.

Glaring at the offending messenger bag, or more specifically the felonious paper sticking out of it, I fought back the tears and expelled a bitter laugh.

My eyes stayed glued to the awful document that signified escape. How dare it hurt me! It was a paper replica of the person it was protecting me from, a façade of security but in reality nothing but pain.

I glanced back at my injured finger to see if anymore blood came trickling out. A thin red line appeared, nothing more. No rivulets of crimson, no summoning of vampires for an all-you-can-suck buffet, just a small droplet of blood, nothing major. I grabbed a tissue to wipe it away, crisis averted. Life continued.

I snuggled further into my hoodie as the interior of my lime-green 67′ Mustang cooled in the night air. My body begged me to turn on the heater. I refused, afraid of getting too comfortable.

I was parked in front of a typical dive bar. The wood exterior was stained with matter that would horrify even the most seasoned forensic team.

A large neon sign on the top of the bar announced its name, Ray’s. It ignited the parking lot, bathing the closest cars in red. A marquee in the front boasted that Ray’s was the home of the JackholeS, a popular Portland band.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to fill myself with fake confidence, hoping this time to succeed, I didn’t.

I gave myself permission to dwell on Jason for five minutes. After that I would file him away in the dark recesses of my mind, just like the paperwork for the restraining order buried in the county clerk’s office.

Leaning back in the driver’s seat, I welcomed the images of my past as they flashed through my mind. I watched my own personal horror movie stuck on fast forward. Significant moments slowed, giving insight on how I ended up sitting in my car, outside a bar, broken and bruised.

*

When I received a scholarship out of state, excitement and heartbreak coursed through me. Oregon State University offered me an escape, the payment they required, I had to leave my dad.

My dad is a retired police chief, and my biggest supporter. My mom was the complete opposite, and couldn’t handle motherhood. Her mind was stuck in a high school mentality. On my fourth birthday she left, taking the amber-tinted bottles lining her bathroom sink with her.

After cleaning up my ruined party, my dad held me in a soul-crushing embrace, and told me it was us against the world. The older I became the more responsibilities I shouldered, taking his statement to heart.

I could never be the typical teenager my mommy-issues ran too deep. Parties and other rites of passage which shepherd a teen into adulthood, were not high on my list of priorities.

I wanted to post this on Friday, but I have been non-stop since coming back from Vegas. So many things happened in Vegas that I decided to break the trip in half.

Thursday I had to wait until JM got off work before we could leave. Trips stress me the fuck out. I am not the biggest fan of change especially to my routine. So after many mind anxiety filled moments we were on the road. We had to drop some thing off with my parents before we could actually hit the road. This meant a detour to Bakersfield the half-way point.

My parents were stuck in traffic so we decided to wait at a park. I went ghetto and touched up my toe-nails while sitting on the grass (I know, but it is Bakersfield so I didn’t feel too bad.) I was then dared to get on the monkey bars. I tried to get out of it. I explained I was too old to be playing on the damn monkey bars, but in the end my dumb ass relented. I am proud to say I got to three before I fell on my ass (the third bar was slippery) because I didn’t want to ruin my newly painted nails I maneuvered myself so I landed on my hip and wrist feet up in the air.

A little girl about three or so ran up to me pointed at me and summoning her best Nelson from the Simpsons laughed. Yes I deserved it, and it made me laugh. There were probably only about thirty people in the park, but in my imagination there had to be about fifty. JM did an impressive job stifling his laugh. Yeah, who the hell am I kidding.

After leaving my parents (No I did not tell them about my small stint as a gymnast.) We were officially on the road. Well, after I popped JM’s Sonic cherry that is. I haven’t had Sonic since coming back from Texas. I missed it.

On the four hour drive JM was very sweet in not mentioning my monkey bar fail. He only burst out laughing every thirty minutes or so. Usually that was followed by a “Hey, remember when you tried to do the monkey bars?” or “You fell” I know what a nice guy.

We finally made it to Vegas. Yay!!!

We stayed on Fremont Street because I found a killer deal. So really for the rest of the night we walked around downtown people watching.

That night while getting ready for bed I realized that I had forgot to pack a bra. I am so used to wearing sports bras that I completely forgot that I needed to wear big girl bras in public.

So the next morning JM and I went on a bra adventure before I was able to do anything. We found a mall on the outskirts of town. Being in Vegas I didn’t think that finding a DDD bra would be a big deal. Stupid me for thinking.

I went through Sears, JC Penny’s and I couldn’t tell you how many more only to see DD tags galore. JM found a Victoria Secret. I explained that there is no way they would have a DDD. He marched right in asked the lady and of course she pulls me over and hands me two different bras. Finding a proper cage for the girls I removed the tag and made JM pay for it so I could walk out with in a real big girl bra. (So do any of you get my post title yet?)

After bolting the girls on we made our way to Planet Hollywood where The Novel Experience was being held. Friday was the VIP event which I didn’t pay for so I really wasn’t allowed to go in yet. I went and wished Rebecca luck before getting kicked out. The authors wanted to go on a pub crawl after the VIP experience so JM and I walked around while they did their thing.

At nine I shouted out on FB asking where the pub crawl was starting. I swear it went radio silent right after I posted. It was like high school all over again. (Kidding) After a while I figured that they were having too much fun, and told JM I wanted to go back to downtown. He calmed me down and told me to wait. They finally answered me, and coincidentally we were right in front of the bar they were at. I chickened out. I didn’t want to go. JM had to practically push me into the bar.

As soon as I walked in everyone was so nice to me. Julie Morgan handed me a sticker tattoo spider thingy that I stuck on my cheek (this comes into play later) We were all having a good time when four guys from the UK crashed our party. They must have just turned 21 because they were bouncing around like baby goats. We ended up dubbing them the puppies.

Some of the authors let the puppies sign their boobs. Thankfully mine were covered. I got away with out being signed until I stupidly showed my friend Dayna my batman tattoo. The puppies saw it, and pounced. While they were signing one of them kept rubbing his thumb on my side. I screamed and asked him if he was licking me. He explained it was just his thumb. I told him to stop licking me with his thumb. This is how I ended up with two squirting penises on my back.

Even with accents they still couldn’t be mistaken for mature.

We left the puppies shortly after and ended up at the Rock Bar. This is also where I lost my license. Damn bull.

When the adorable little waitress asked me what I wanted to drink I drew a complete blank. What are the odds they would have diet Pepsi and Red Licorice Vodka? I asked her. They didn’t. I told her that I would leave it up to her, and to make it pretty.

She saw the tattoo on my cheek and tried to wipe it off. She then realized it was a fake tattoo, and started to laugh. I told her I knew  that I had swallowed everything. I made a fan.

When she came back she handed me two pink drinks. (did I mention it was buy one get one free?) I asked her what it was, and she told me it was sex on the beach. I asked her, “If you have sex on the beach and get sand in your vagina would you make pearls?” Some how I ended up with a free bull ride.

We danced. Well….they danced I bobbed. I can’t dance. Alicia the Bookwhore can however dance. I am still in awe at her moves.

This is Alicia with two men who were trying to see how far they could stretch what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

After dancing we made our way to the bull.

There was a man on the bull that kept unbuttoning his shirt. He saw a group of women and decided to throw on the charm. He asked if we thought he could stay on the bull for twenty seconds. I yelled up at him telling him if he unbuttoned his shirt another button he probably could.

After he was knocked off rather quickly I might add he came over to us telling us it is harder than it looked. I told him that we were women and used to taking a pounding. He left quickly after that.

I am a big talked. I thought I had gotten away with it too. When most of the girls had their turn on the bull I tried to get them outside to see the Bellagio fountains. They weren’t having none of that. Alicia came to my rescue and we ended up riding double on that damn bull.

This is where I lost my license. It is either residing near the bull’s ass or Alicia’s vagina.

After getting bucked off. (the bra held them firmly in place.) We went to watch the fountains. I decided they looked like synchronized ejaculations.

I took flat Ella Emerson with me. There are more pictures on other peoples camera somewhere.