Hi all!
Please help me welcome Author Nadia Scrieva to my
blog today!
About the Author:
Nadia Scrieva lives
in Toronto, Canada with no husband, no kids, and no pets. She does own a very
attractive houseplant which she occasionally remembers to water between her
all-consuming writing marathons.
Here's my interview with her:
What is your name? Do you use a pen name
(if so, why?)?
My pen name is Nadia Scrieva—only the last
name is not my actual birth name. Mainly because my real last name is my
father’s name, and I would prefer no association with that man. Also, it
doesn’t sound pretty.
Tell me a bit about yourself:
What type of genre do you write?
I write fantasy/romance novels. I’m not
sure why I need to have a little touch of the supernatural mixed in with every
story.
What genre to you personally read?
I will read almost any genre, but I like
stories that go on forever for dozens of books, and I need stories that make me
feel strong emotions.
Is there a particular book that changed or
affected your life in a big way?
The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck really
changed my opinion on men forever. Not in a favorable way!
Is there a message in your book that you
want readers to grasp?
Most of my books carry messages of strength
and independence—which I realize is ironic to do in the romance genre where the
whole point is union and interdependence.
What challenges have you faced in your
writing career?
It’s been the most time-consuming career I’ve ever had! I write day and night,
and I’ve pretty much given up on my social life. It’s completely worth it,
though!
What has been your best moment as a writer?
Every time a reader messages me to say they
like the books, I’m walking on air all day!
Do you see yourself in any of your
characters?
I have to put a little bit of myself in
each character to be able to relate to them and write them properly. Elements
like a love for music or the theatre, or a gambling addiction will make the
character real and memorable to me, and make me understand their motivations.
Do you feel like your dream has come true
or is there much more to do?
Being able to write every day is a dream
come true—but there is plenty more work to do. I have many other, bigger
dreams.
What does your workspace look like?
Complete, utter mess and mayhem—like a
tornado just swept through the neighbourhood, and the only casualty was my
writing desk.
What do you do when you’re not writing?
I’m trying to tick everything off my to-do
list so I can get back to writing!
What are the most important attributes to
remaining sane as a writer?
There are no sane writers. The best we can
hope to do is appear sane!
What advice would you give to aspiring
authors?
You can never read or write enough. It’s
simple, really. Consume and produce—practice makes perfect!
Your website?
Your blog?
nadiascrieva.blogspot.com
Where can your book be found?
Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, Sony,
Kobo—pretty much anywhere ebooks are sold!
Paramount
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak, Book 1
Nadia
Scrieva
Genre: Fantasy/Romance
ISBN: 1477618392
ASIN: B008E08AXW
Number of pages: 375
Word Count: 98, 000
A goddess hell-bent on revenge...
Pax Burnson is the descendant of devas. She has
vowed to live her life without practicing her powers, but recent events have
overturned her entire existence. Thorn Kalgren has been the love of her life
since she was fourteen -- he helped her to heal after the loss of her parents.
As a close family friend, he is one of a select few who understand and share
her unique heritage. His recent betrayal has released a violence within her
that she cannot restrain.
While her first instinct is to escape and forget,
her aimless road trip is interrupted by a childhood friend in need. An idea
strikes Pax as she sees her own pain reflected in Thorn's sister, Amara
Kalgren. She is suddenly filled with a new, all-consuming purpose: vengeance.
She believes there is nothing else left.
Using ancient magick and enlisting Amara's help,
Pax orchestrates a complex, drawn-out plan to deceive and emotionally destroy
her former lover. The friendship and loyalty between the two girls becomes
fortified and unshakable as they venture down a dark and twisted path together,
encountering formidable roadblocks and demons.
It soon becomes clear to Pax that everything she
has been led to believe about her powers and her past was shaped by blatant
lies. When she discovers that Thorn's infidelity is closely linked with her
mother's death, she is forced to make a life-altering decision...
Chapter 1: Defying the Laws
A feminine hand clad in a fingerless leather glove pulled a
hard left on the steering wheel, maneuvering to avoid a car that had swerved
into the way at the last second. The woman's face remained emotionless, but she
felt anger rise up inside of her at the other driver’s reckless act. She raised
her hand, palm facing forward and fingers spread apart as she breathed deeply.
“Oh, I could just…”
She could see the flow of heat emanating from her volcanic
center, obliterating the other car and its driver in mere moments—and then,
perhaps, continuing on to clear out the highway for the next few dozen miles.
Her windshield began to crack. No.
She abruptly stopped visualizing the gratifying havoc she could wreak if she
released all the pent up power which hummed at her fingertips. The temptation
was too great, and she immediately closed her fist and returned it to the
steering wheel.
She grimaced, fighting to control her twitching fingers, and
forcing them back down onto the Jeep’s steering wheel placidly. Regret coursed
through her, and she acknowledged that she would need to replace her windshield
again. A foul smell reached her nostrils, causing her forehead to crease. She
glanced down at the bruised, tanned knuckles visible through little oval holes
in her worn gloves. Smoke was drifting up from between her fingers as her
heated palms burned into the rubbery-plastic material of the steering
wheel. She felt sick at the stench.
Thorn. How could you?
The heart of her anger wasn't caused by reckless drivers. It
was the lingering sting of betrayal. Startling her, a cell phone buzzed against
her hip, and she fought the instant urge to crush it like a pesky insect. Was
it him calling? She hadn’t answered
her phone in weeks. Why would anyone still bother to call?
Thorn in my side,
thorn in my brain.
The sections of the steering wheel she gripped had finally
melted completely. Yet another part of the Jeep would need to be replaced.
Luckily, her mechanic no longer asked questions. She removed her hands from the
wheel and tried to wipe the sticky substance off her gloves. Giving up, she
interlocked her fingers together before resting them in her lap. She continued
steering with only her mind. She enjoyed driving with just her thoughts. She
liked the idea that her body was flying through the air, and direction was
controlled by her mere intent. It reminded her of what made her special: this
inherited telekinetic ability. The ability she had promised her family never to
use. The phone rang again.
The feminine posture of having her hands clasped demurely in
her lap brought a sardonic smile to her face. The only thing which had ever
been feminine about Pax was her long black hair. She had taken great pride in
being able to sit on the lustrous mass, and had enjoyed the competitive factor
of being able to say that hers was longer than that of any woman she knew, and
almost all women she met. (In retrospect, tying her ego to the length of a
physical extension of her body had not been completely feminine.) Even then, it
had always hung in tangled, messy waves which she had hardly ever brushed.
It was only a month ago that she had shorn it all off. She
still felt awkward when she turned to check her blind-spot and did not have a
pound of tresses rolling over her shoulders comfortingly. She still felt like
something was missing when the window of her Jeep was open, and the harsh wind
did not whip unruly strands into her eyes. She felt naked without these little
luxuries. Pax had not realized that her hair had been her security blanket—and
once she did realize this, she had quickly introduced it to a pair of garden
shears.
Pax wanted to stop depending on external substances for
strength. She was sure that she could find a greater confidence inside her that
had nothing to do with her hair, her car, or her lover.
She had depended far too much on him.
Her phone was still pulsating against her hip annoyingly.
She did not want to look at the name on the caller ID, but her mind was already
sliding the phone from its holster and lifting it to hover at her eye level.
She glanced away from the road for a moment to warily read the letters. Amara Kalgren. It was only half of the
name that she most feared seeing. It was the sister of the man who betrayed
her.
She had no wish whatsoever to speak to the blond woman. It
was a pity really, since she loved and respected Amara. The two had been very
close when they were younger, and in recent years they had occasionally
double-dated since Amara was also seeing a relative of hers. Pax felt a
bittersweet smile tug her lips as she thought of her silly uncle Asher. Their
families had grown up together, and the Kalgren kids had always been loyal
friends. When families shared secrets such as theirs, they tended to stay
together. Pax had not spoken to her favorite couple in far too long, because
her uncle was exceedingly close to her ex-boyfriend. She could endure no
reminders of what she had lost. Any contact with Amara or Asher would be
chock-full of painful reminders and would inevitably lead to contact with
exactly what she was trying to avoid.
Releasing her focus on the phone, she allowed it to fall
against her thigh. She looked ahead at the highway, and cursed when she saw the
sea of red brake-lights appearing. She willed the dial that controlled the
volume of her speakers to turn up the music to the maximum. She closed her eyes
and let the sound bombard her ears as she sat still in traffic. Pax did not
really have anywhere to go, but driving endlessly along the highway made her
feel like she was going somewhere. It made her feel like she was getting away,
although she was quickly finding that the continent was not large enough to
escape the older Kalgren sibling. She had been sleeping in her car and on
uncomfortable motel beds as she tried to escape her disgrace, but her rest was
littered with fitful nightmares while her waking hours were tormented with
frequent involuntary memories.
A vibration against her thigh caused her to peer down. She
scowled at her phone. Amara hardly ever called at all; this was an old signal
from their youth. Double-calling. Twice in a minute was a true sign of
emergency. Pax jabbed her canines into
her bottom lip, chewing as she considered taking the call. There might be a
crisis. Something could have happened to her uncle Asher. She turned off the
music telekinetically. Unlocking her hands and sliding her pinky finger
tentatively across her thigh, Pax used the tip of her nail to press the green
button.
“Yes?” she asked curtly. For a moment she was seized by an
intense panic that it might be Thornton calling from his sister’s phone. She
held her breath, reassuring herself that he would never stoop that low. But then, there was precious little she knew
about the depths to which he would stoop.
A small voice on the other end whispered a usually-upsetting
diminutive of her name. “Paxie…”
Pax slammed her skull back into the headrest and cursed.
Although she had not been especially close to Amara in the past decade, she
could recognize the helplessness and despair in her friend’s soft plea. They
had been infants together, followed by childhood playmates. She knew Amara’s
every emotion as though it were her own, and although she had no inkling of
what happened, she instinctively knew that this must be the worst kind of
disaster. Her heart leapt into her throat as she imagined the worst case
scenario—had her foolish Uncle Asher somehow gotten himself killed?
“I’m on my way,” Pax said into the phone before hanging up.
She glanced at her GPS to get a sense of her location, and cursed again. Her
aimless, wandering circles had taken her three states away from Amara’s
beachfront home. Three states and at least fifteen hours. An idea struck her:
the Jeep was a mess anyway, so perhaps she could abandon it and travel with her
mind.
Pulling over into a ditch, Pax took several deep breaths to
concentrate. She had only successfully
done this a handful of times in her life—usually in emergencies when it was
most necessary. This was an emergency, and surely she would be able to focus
enough to move her body across the distance instantaneously. It was only one
small body—she could lift much larger objects without any effort. She reached
into her passenger seat and slipped her wrist under her purse before beginning.
Pax placed the palm of her right hand firmly against her
solar plexus. She took a deep breath, visualizing her destination. She placed
her left hand beside her right hand, forming the shape of a heart with her
fingers. Her head begin to spin as her body begun dematerializing, starting at
her core. For a moment, she was immaterial, and floating in nothingness.
A tickle of fear caused her to gasp, and she immediately
found herself falling butt-first onto the hood of her Jeep.
“Shit! I suck at this,” she muttered, looking around to see
if anyone had noticed her blunder. Grumbling, she rolled off the hood of her
Jeep, wiping the dirt off her pants. Many insects had been slain with her speed
in the past few days, and now their corpses were decorating her jeans. Pax
swore repeatedly as she picked up her purse from the mud near the wheel of her
car. She considered traveling by air, but there were too many people nearby.
She climbed back into her Jeep, and slammed the door, upset with herself for
her own inadequacy at using the technique which was supposed to be her
birthright.
It was
often her downfall that she tried to obtain everything she desired
instantaneously.
Digging her key into the ignition, she jammed her foot on
the gas pedal and began driving on the rough, potholed shoulder. She flew by
the stopped cars on the highway, disregarding the dozen rules she was probably
breaking. If she could not be successful in bending the laws of nature, then at
the very least, she could satisfy herself in defying the laws of the road.
* * *
“Mara! Where are you? Is everything okay? Amara!”
Pax felt sick. It had taken ten hours, but she had driven
directly to Amara’s waterfront home, stopping only once for gas. Seeing her
friend’s Jaguar in the driveway, she had let herself in. Now, as she moved from
room to room on the hunt for the blonde woman, she was growing alarmed. She
considered calling, but it was faster just to lift the palm of her hand.
“Pilot me to thine light,” Pax chanted softly. The
incantation was not necessary, but it helped her to focus. Soon enough, she
found herself being subliminally led to her friend’s bedroom. Amara was still
nowhere to be seen, so she continued to follow the guiding energy to the
ensuite bathroom.
Upon touching the doorknob, Pax recoiled as the strong scent
of her uncle overwhelmed her senses before the door was even fully open. Terror
flooded her breast as she imagined Asher’s corpse sprawled out on the floor.
Her gloved hand flew to cover her mouth before she had even seen a body. A déjà
vu swept over her as she recalled finding her dead mother when she was just a
teenager. The scent was familiar—it was not only Asher, but his blood.
Pax felt her heart skip a beat as it ached with love for her
uncle. She expected to see him lying there dead, but she still moved into the
room with determination. Asher was nowhere to be seen, but a small blonde woman
was huddled in a corner of the shower stall. Amara was completely naked. Pax
swallowed back her fear before she took in the surroundings. Amara’s
fashionable clothes were strewn all over the floor, and there was dark blood
which had dried as it had been dripping down the glass doors of the shower
stall.
“Amara, are you hurt?” Pax immediately moved to comfort her
friend, crawling into the shower stall and crouching beside her. Pax spotted
Amara’s cell phone sitting in a pool of water nearby. It was amazing that the
thing hadn’t short-circuited, but then again, it was Kalgren technology.
“Mara?” Pax asked in a soft voice, reaching out to brush her
friend’s hair off her face. She was surprised to find that Amara’s hair was
perfectly dry. Her skin was perfectly dry. There was hardly any water in the
shower stall, except for a few small pools gathered at the bottom. It must have
been hours since the shower was used.
“How long have you been like this? Amara! Talk to me!” said
Pax firmly. Hearing no response she desperately sent her message directly into
her friend’s mind. Has something happened
to Ash? Please, please, Mara. Please tell me that my uncle is fine. I hardly
have any family left. Is he…
Amara snapped out of her little daze and looked up at her
friend. “Ash?” she asked dumbly. “He’s fine.”
“Thank Sakra,” Pax said, referring to the god of gods. She allowed
herself to fall from her raised position on her ankles to a seated position on
her bottom, ignoring the pools of water beneath her. She released a gush of
air. “Is this your blood?”
The blonde woman stared forward for a moment silently.
Pax began to frown as her worry began to be replaced with
anger. “Did Ash hurt you? Because if he…”
“No,” Amara responded softly. “When he touches me, he is
always gentle. So tender. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Pax rolled her eyes at this description. Were they talking
about the same man? Her annoyingly powerful uncle who had wrestled her toys
away with his mind before she could even walk? “Maybe he wouldn’t,” Pax agreed,
“but he certainly could. Did he?”
“No.”
“Sure. He didn’t hurt you. That’s why you’ve been sitting
naked in the corner of a blood-soaked shower stall for god-knows how many
hours!”
Amara looked at her friend for the first time. “Oh, Paxie.
Where’s all your beautiful hair?”
Pax was already reaching up to search for it before she
remembered. She scowled. “Don’t call me that, Amara. We’re not five anymore.
And don’t change the subject. What the hell happened?”
Amara’s eyes lowered again. “I did something bad.”
Glancing up at the bloody shower walls in confusion, Pax
frowned. “What did you do?” She knew that Amara was not strong enough to harm
her uncle, physically or psychically. She reached out to grasp the girl’s
shoulder and give it a firm shake. “Mara. Hey, hey! What did you do?”
“I don’t know. He left me.”
“He what?” Pax
repeated in shock. Asher and Amara were the most solid couple she knew. Every
birthday and holiday, she and Thornton would always… she could not finish the
thought. Her anger at her own lover was beginning to seep into thoughts of her
uncle by extension.
Amara turned to Pax with wounded innocence in her clear blue
eyes. “He said he just wanted to… have me one last time. Then he walked away.”
Pax felt comprehension dawn on her as she took in the state
of the bathroom. “So… he fucked you and then he left you?”
The blonde woman was as still as death. “Do I deserve this?
I don’t understand.”
Rage flushed Pax’s body with warmth as the anger blossomed
inside her again. She clenched her fists. Even after all this, Amara refused to
say a negative thing about Asher. She refused to condemn him for hurting her,
and she chose to believe that it was somehow her fault. While Pax loved her
uncle to pieces, she could not make sense of his actions. Asher often followed
the wrong company (Thornton) and this has often influenced him negatively and
gotten him into all kinds of trouble.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Pax reassured her friend.
She reached out to rub her gloved hand over Amara’s naked back. “I’ll stay with
you, okay? We’ll get through this together.”
Amara felt the familiar waves of heat radiating from Pax’s
hand and lifting her hair. She felt a small smile touch her lips. She hadn’t
realized that she had been so cold. The warmth of the dark haired woman’s angry
energy surrounded Amara's skin like a comforting blanket. As her lips curled
they cracked, revealing how dry they had become from the salty tears that had
been running over them for so many hours.
“Thank you, Pax,” said Amara softly.
“What for?” she asked.
“For being here. I needed you.”
Pax felt guilt wash over her when she remembered that she
had been ignoring Amara's phone calls. It’s partly my fault she’s like
this. If I had been a better friend… Gah! I should have flown here instead of
driving when my teleportation didn’t work. As she stared at the small
blonde woman who was deathly pale, Pax began to form a vow in her mind. Uncle
or not, she would not allow Asher to hurt her friend like this and get away
scot-free. She would find a way to make sure that he was the one sitting on the
floor and broken. She did not realize that she was fusing her own pain with
Amara’s and transferring it to a different man. Asher will regret the day he did this to her. She’s the last person who
deserved this. Amara is so sweet and loving—not bitter and vengeful like me.
She was always so true and devoted. I’ll make Asher pay. I’ll hurt him so
deeply, and so terribly that it will ruin his already ruined life. Damn you, Thorn! I mean Ash...
Pax saw a single tear run down Amara’s face and it snapped
her out of her guilt and anger. She put her arms around the blonde woman and
held her close, ignoring that she was naked. Amara leaned against Pax’s
shoulder and let the tears fall freely.
Please thank Nadia for joining us today and giving
us so much information about her new book. It’s really encouraging and makes me
want to buy the book. What about you? Check out her websites, leave a comment
and buy a book.
Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce
