I don’t yet have cover art for it, but I have a blurb, and since the members of my Goodreads Q&A group asked for it, I have an excerpt for you, too!

Karen Marie Moning has called Stacia Kane’s Downside Ghosts series “dark, sexy urban fantasy at its finest.” Now, in this breathlessly suspenseful eBook novella, Kane has written a prequel to her thrilling series. Before Chess Putnam was a magic-wielding Churchwitch, she was a student in the Church of Real Truth—with a keen sensitivity to magic, a strong rebellious streak, and a penchant for self-destruction. And in Finding Magic, a grisly ghost murder becomes Chess’s baptism of fire.

When eighteen-year-old Chess Putnam is offered the chance to train with a special team of investigators known as the Black Squad, she feels torn. She’s never been a team player and hates how one male Inquisitor condescends to “the new kid.” But at her first bloody crime scene, she gets a taste for investigation—and is hooked on the high. Though the seasoned Inquisitors consider the series of ghost murders random events, Chess starts to detect a pattern. Is a psycho killer summoning ghosts from the City of Eternity and using them as murder weapons? As Chess gets closer to the dark truth, she puts herself in grave danger and risks losing everything she’s fought so hard for.

Includes a special preview of Stacia Kane’s upcoming urban fantasy thriller, Chasing Magic!

Note: I don’t yet know what from CHASING MAGIC is excerpted. But CM does have its first printed review!! Five Stars from The Book Evangelist:

With each and every novel Stacia Kane writes, my admiration and respect for her as an author increases. The Downside Ghosts books just keep getting better and better. … Chess is really forced to look at herself in Chasing Magic; she is forced to grow up and mature in ways I have been hoping for but dared not expect. I loved this book, and cannot imagine how I will get through the wait for the next one.

Also, this is really cool (for me, anyway). The Guardian (one of the biggest UK newspapers) did a review of HOME IMPROVEMENT: UNDEAD EDITION, in which they singled out my story RICK THE BRAVE as one of the two best in the volume (along with Patricia Briggs’s GRAY):

Far better are “Gray” by Patricia Briggs, a poignant vampire revenge drama; and Stacia Kane’s “Rick the Brave”, an original take on the ghost-hunting theme.

Anyway. Without further ado, here’s an excerpt from FINDING MAGIC! (As usual, this is from the pre-copyedited ms, so the final printed version may vary slightly):

Chess sat in the Church library, studying PSYCHOPOMPS: THEIR USES AND HISTORY, when Elder Marks appeared on the other side of the table. As usual his blue suit looked dusty and the cuffs were frayed; as usual the black Church make-up ringing his eyes had smudged halfway down his cheeks, making him look less like a ghost and more like a drunken clown.

“Thou are wanted in Elder Griffin’s office, Miss Putnam,” he said, and left almost before he’d finished the sentence, like giving her the message had been only a stop on the many important errands he had to run.

Chess already knew that was bullshit. Three years of Church training had taught her a lot; a lifetime of shit had arguably taught her more, and she knew—along with everyone else, to be fair—that Elder Marks did little more than fill space at that point, that he was just waiting for that retirement shoe to drop.

Not that she blamed him. How could she? He’d been with the Church all his life, had started back when it was nothing more than an underground magical group, before the ghosts rose from their graves during Haunted Week in 1997 and changed the world forever. Before the Church sent those ghosts into the City of Eternity under the surface of the earth and took control of the world above it.

Elder Griffin…the name conjured up a flash of blond hair and a friendly smile, but not much else. She’d never really spoken to him before; hell, she didn’t think he even knew her name. And why would he? He wasn’t a teaching Elder. He oversaw the Department of Spectral Fraud: the Debunkers, the Church employees who investigated reports of hauntings to determine their truth.

They were usually fake. Not hard to believe, considering how much money the Church paid as reparations if a house was really haunted. Not hard to believe, considering what greedy sacks of shit most people were.

She closed the book and stood up, brushing her hair off her shoulders. Just seeing the stupid dirty-blondish color of it annoyed her. As soon as she graduated training she was going to start dyeing it again. Maybe not dark blue like it had been when she’d arrived at Church to start classes there, but something.

The book went into the big army-green bag she’d found at a thrift store a few weeks before, along with her notebook and pen. Or…maybe she should keep those out? So she looked serious, so he could see she was prepared. After all, he wasn’t a teaching Elder. He was administrative, he reported directly to the Elder Triumvirate, to the Grand Elder himself.

So what did he want with her?

No way to ask Elder Marks; he’d already drifted out of the library. No time to think about it, either. The last thing she wanted to do was delay, make herself look irresponsible or like she didn’t care.

The Church headquarters were always busy, but especially on Thursdays, when the Liaisings took place. People crowded the low dark-wood bench against the wall opposite Elder Griffin’s office, waiting their turn to visit with the spirits of their dead family members. Above them a frieze of ghosts and magic symbols lined the wall near the ceiling. Still hard to believe she was a student here, that if she passed her training she would actually work here. She could live the rest of her life here, safe under the Church’s watchful eye. It could be her home…her real home.

Shit, she was lucky.

Elder Griffin’s door opened under her careful tap. He’d been waiting for her, she guessed, since he stood only a few feet back, smiling that smile she’d remembered. Friendly. Open. “Welcome, Miss Putnam. Are thee well?”

She dropped into her well-practiced curtsy, trying to smile while her insides froze. Elder Griffin wasn’t alone in his office. Elder Hancock and Elder Charles sat in rounded wooden chairs in front of a desk—Elder Griffin’s desk—and Goody Evers stood by the tall built-in bookcases near them. At her side were two people Chess couldn’t identify.

All those people. Six of them. Her breath froze in her chest. They were kicking her out. Oh shit, they were going to kick her out, she knew it, she’d been waiting for it…she’d known it was too good to be true.

“Miss Putnam? Are thee well?” Elder Griffin took a step toward her, his gentle brow furrowed beneath his wide-brimmed hat.

Right. They were watching her, they could see her. If they wanted to kick her out, fine. They could kick her out. She couldn’t do anything about that. But she sure as hell could do something about her reaction to it. She could make sure they didn’t know they’d hurt her.

She was good at that.

Her bright smile hurt. Too bad. “I’m fine, sir, very well, thank you. And you?”

“I am well indeed. Come in, please, here, we’ve saved you a chair…”

They’d saved her a chair. Because they knew she’d need to sit down after what they had to say. Her legs were numb.

She made it to the chair—thankfully—and sank into it, hearing the leather hiss beneath her. Hearing her breath rasp in her lungs, hearing her muscles move. Like it was all happening to someone else, like she was watching a slow-moving close-up movie while her brain jammed triple-speed. They were going to kick her out. She’d fucked up somewhere, they’d figured out she didn’t belong there, that she wasn’t good enough, smart enough, that she didn’t deserve it.

Where would she go? Where the hell was she going to go?

Elder Charles cleared his throat. “Thou are probably curious about why thy presence was requested.”

In his lap sat a pale-blue file; her school records. He opened it, his face tilted down to look at the pages. “Your results from the latest aptitude test round have come in.”

She’d flunked. She’d flunked, and that was it. She just—how was that possible, when she’d studied so hard, practiced those spells into the wee hours, long after lights-out in the dorm?

They were all looking at her like they expected some response, but she couldn’t bring herself to make one. Her throat was too tight, so tight it hurt; her eyes stung. The best she could muster was to raise her eyebrows a bit, tip her head in what she hoped looked like a curious nod toward the paper he held.

“Very impressive,” he said finally. “We were especially interested in your counter-hex results, and the number of spells you improvised from the ingredients you were given.”

Elder Hancock smiled. “The power-raising sigil was an especially nice touch.”

They weren’t kicking her out. They were—they were saying nice things to her, they were smiling, they thought she’d done well. Relief flooded her system, so strong her vision wavered; for a second she was afraid she was going to pass out. “Thank you, sir.”

He nodded. “As you know, students in their last year of classes are given the opportunity to work with employees in various positions around the Church, to help them choose their future career. I see you have not yet made a decision?”

“No, sir.”

He turned from her then, gesturing at the two people standing behind him. “This is Special Inquisitor Scott Freemont, and Inquisitor Second Jillian Morrow. We’d like you to work with Jillian for the next week.”

Whoah. Okay, that was not something she’d ever considered doing. “The…the Black Squad? I’m not—”

“We think your talents may be a fit,” Elder Charles interrupted. “We’d like you to work with Jillian for the next week.”

Shit.

She wanted to work for the Black Squad about as much as she wanted to cut off her toes and eat them for dinner. No, she hadn’t put down a preference yet, but that was because…well, because she didn’t want them pigeonholing her. She didn’t want them thinking they knew her.

Besides, rumor had it that the Church viewed actually listing a preference as a sign of stubbornness and pride, and would go out of their way to disregard those preferences.

You’re lucky to be here at all, she reminded herself, and forced another smile. Her lips were starting to hurt. “Sure, I mean, of course, sir. If you think that’s the best thing for me to do.”

Elder Charles looked pleased; well, they all looked pleased. “Excellent. Jillian, will you take Miss Putnam with you now to get her things, and you can head out.”

Wait, what? Right that minute? No, she didn’t want to look difficult, but… “Um, sir? Elder Charles? I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have a sigil analysis test in the morning, I don’t want to—”

He chuckled. “Do not worry thyself. You are of course excused from classwork for the next week; thou can make up the test on your return.” He leaned forward with the smirking sort of air of people who were pretending they cared about breaking confidences or embarrassing people. The air of people who honestly thought they did care, to be fair, but didn’t really, not deep down. “Don’t worry. It won’t affect your scholarship.”

Once again, years of experience in keeping her face calm, in pretending she didn’t feel it, didn’t hear it, held her in good stead. Her lips curved into what she knew was a natural looking smile. No one seeing that smile would know that she wanted to spit at the Elder and run, that she wanted to cry. Like she hadn’t heard enough over the years about her going to classes on “charity,” like she hadn’t dealt with enough of her fellow students looking at her, whispering about her, knowing she was nobody and had no ancestry, that even her last name had come from the Church and not from a family. “Thank you, sir. I was concerned.”

Elder Griffin cleared his throat behind her; she turned around to see his expression clear, like he’d been making a face. He smiled at her. He was smiling, she was smiling, the others were smiling…they looked like they’d all been dosed with some sort of hallucinogenic. “I’m sure Miss Putnam is simply surprised. Perhaps we can give her ten minutes or so to get her things together, or drop off her books.”

Chess looked at him, unable for a second to hide her surprise. Was he—he was, he was giving her a few minutes to adjust. A few minutes alone. And he was doing it on purpose, because he glanced down at her—just a glance—but their eyes met and she saw it in his, that he knew exactly what he was doing.

So what did he want from her?

Maybe greeting his kindness with suspicion was wrong; he was Church, after all, and she’d been trying to adjust and accept that some people—most people, it seemed—in the Church weren’t playing some kind of angle; hell, most of them weren’t even aware of her. But someone overtly helpful to her like that…what did he want? What was he going to want her to do, to repay it?

She’d worry about that later. For the moment she focused on Jillian Morrow’s ready smile as she looked down at Chess and said, “Sure. I’ll meet you out front in fifteen, okay?”

(And speaking of being away/losing track of dates, since I kinda disappeared for a little bit, I’m extending my Goodreads Q&A time, so do come over and join in; we’re having a lot of fun there!)

(Also, I am doing a different Goodreads chat/Q&A today, here. Come say hi! I’m giving away a signed copy of SACRIFICIAL MAGIC.)

Anyway, enough of that! Without even more blah-blah-blah ado, let me go ahead and announce the winner of the pillbox necklace:

GINNIE TIPTON!

Ginnie, please contact me to give me your address etc.

Also, since it took me so long I’m going to give away a couple of signed books. So DeeAnn Kimbrough and Andra Mary, contact me with your details!

Hope everyone pops over to Goodreads to say hello!

Also, we had some fun with the oven yesterday! It’s a really cool old-fashioned gas oven. Like, when you use the oven part there are actually open flames in the back. I would take a picture, except–guess what?–it runs on gas/propane tanks, and they are empty! Which I discovered halfway through cooking out Very First Dinner In The New House–a steak pie. So much for that, and so much for the carrots I was going to roast and the potatoes I was going to boil in watered-down beef stock and serve with coarse salt and a bit of ground rosemary (delicious, btw). We had Chinese instead. They should be replacing the gas tanks today, so here’s hoping. The half-made pie is in the fridge but the half-cooked veg were a loss. Sigh.

My deep fryer arrived, though, which is exciting, and I can’t wait to use it.

But, of course, that’s not the big news of yesterday, is it? The big news is that SACRIFICIAL MAGIC is out there in the world, sinking or swimming on its own. Eek!

Like any anxious author, I’ve been keeping a semi-loose track of my Amazon and B&N rankings. They’re much better than I expected; SM on Kindle is around 500 overall, and in paperback it’s around 2000 (as I write this). For the Nook it’s at 171 overall, which is quite nice. And it’s been in the Top 25 for various Fantasy categories in both paperback and Kindle.

Like I said, it’s nice. It also means nothing, sadly. Nothing at all. A book can have a ranking that high and sell fifty copies. The rankings are nice but don’t exactly signify Runaway Bestseller, either. Amazon rankings are essentially meaningless; they always have been. Which is why you’ll never ever see me running around calling myself a “Bestselling Author” due to Amazon rankings. Is it nice to see? Sure. Does it matter, really? No. Hell, BE A SEX-WRITING STRUMPET has been in the Top 10 for its categories for like the last year. Still doesn’t mean it’s a bestseller or that I am a bestselling author. You get to be a bestselling author when you hit the USA Today list, or the NYT, or Bookscan or one of a few other legit lists. You get to call yourself a New York Times/USAT bestseller when you hit the Top 10 (afaik); if it’s not the Top 10 you’re a “National Bestseller.” Those are the rules, to my knowledge–I mean, they’re not “rules,” like you’ll get punished or something, but they’re general ethical guidelines–and I don’t violate them and am uncomfortable when others do.

So beyond that, let’s look at some stuff around the net!

The lovely Katiebabs is having a giveaway here; go comment!
(NOTE: Uh…okay, I saw Katiebabs’s links to this, and brought it up in a new tab so I could post the link here. But I didn’t actually get time to READ it until now. Wow. I’m overwhelmed. [And no, I had no idea.] Please go show Katie some support by commenting!)

An interview and giveaway at The Readventurer here!

The full text of my chat with Stacey Jay is up here, at Addicted2Heroines!

And how about some reviews? Because we got a bunch of them yesterday, and it’s pretty exciting!

Abigail at All Things Urban Fantasy says:

Everything about the Downside series pulses with paranormal perfection, not the least of which is Downside itself. It’s like New York from Escape from New York overrun with murderous ghosts and deadly magic. Gritty doesn’t begin to describe it. There is a wonderful contrast between the residents of Downside with their slang/dialect way of talking, and the hyper formality of the Church of Real Truth, the ruling entity that protects humanity by magically banishing ghosts. Seriously, everything about this series is so finely nuanced and realistic, frighteningly so in some cases, but always intensely gripping. I can’t wait for my next Chess and Terrible hit when CHASING MAGIC is published on June 26, 2012.

Tori at SmexyBooks gives it an A:

Sacrificial Magic is a force to be reckoned with and only enforces my belief that the Downside series is one of the top urban fantasy series out there to date.

Samantha at Fiction Vixen says:

This book was a rollercoaster. But when is life with Chess not? This series continues to be a must read for me. Terrible continues to rock my world.

5 Stars from Claire’s Book Corner:

As with the earlier books Ms Kane writes a very emotional scene that had me fighting back the tears and wanting to give Chess a big hug as well as a little shake. There aren’t many authors who can make me feel such strong emotions and have me rooting for such a messed up character but Ms Kane excels at this. If you are fans of this series you will not be disappointed and I cannot wait for the fifth book Chasing Magic to be released. I would like to give Sacrificial Magic 5 stars.

From Books to Brighten Your Mood:

What can I say about Stacia Kane, that hasn’t already been said or that will do justice to her work! This author is plainly brilliant and with Sacrificial Magic she just proves that once more! Sacrificial Magic was among my most anticipated titles for this year, and now that I read it, I can positively say that I wasn’t disappointed in the least.

Another 5 Star review, from The Romanceaholic:

Overall, I of course adored it. Chess’ self-hatred and self-sabotage did start to grate on me towards the end, which I admit almost kept it from being a 5-star read, but the ending was absolutely amazing and the setup for the next story has me frothing at the mouth at the thought of having to wait until June to read it, which more than made up for any irritation I might have had with Chess.

An incredibly solid 5/5 Stars.

And 5/5 from My Keeper Shelf:

I have a long held belief that no matter what book I pick up after reading one of Stacia Kane’s books it will not compare in any shape or form to the Downside Ghosts series. … If you’re already a fan of the series you will love Sacrificial Magic. If you have “Terrible Fever” you will love Sacrificial Magic. If you have a soft spot for Chessiebomb the most amazingly flawed female character out there right now you will love Sacrificial Magic. If you’ve never read any of the books and are currently wondering what the hell I’m going on about, go buy the them you will love them. Nothing out there right now compares.

My rating: 5 out of 5 (and then some).

So. I moved house this weekend, from Bedfordshire back to Devon (the hubs works there/here; he’s been commuting for a few months while we waited to see if the position would become permanent, and since it has, here we are). Really not the best weekend to be moving, but what can you do? And it’s actually awesome. In Beds we had a little two-bed flat, a teeny place. I liked it, but it was teeny. This “new” place–and I say “new” because the house is almost two hundred years old, it was built in the 1830s–has four bedrooms, a front room, a dining room, a huge kitchen, a laundry room, one full bathroom and two half-baths. And three fireplaces. It’s pretty incredible. And the best part is that it’s owned by a gentleman my husband works with, so we’re paying very little for it (which is how we’re able to afford it, frankly). Like, we pay £20 more per month for this than we did for that little two-bed flat. So, we–I–feel extremely lucky, which is nice because I could use every bit of luck I can find this week, quite literally. Please luck please.

So, the house is amazing–it even has a front staircase and a back “servants” staircase–but man, is it filthy. FILTHY. Like, filthy to the point that I don’t even know where to start. (I have started, in the kitchen, but you know what I mean.)

Anyway. This explains, basically, why I haven’t been around much this last weekend. (I also don’t have internet, really–the BT guy is here now–so am using a pay-as-you-go dongle from 3. Which I really have to recommend, if you’re in the UK; it’s lovely and fast.) (ETA: The BT guy decided he didn’t feel like actually connecting anything or doing anything, so while the phone was technically switched on, the only working jack is above the front door. No, I am not kidding. He told me I should call an electrician if I actually, you know, want the phone jack somewhere else. He didn’t have any wires/cords with him to even just allow us to plug in the phone somewhere else. Thanks, BT. And it especially sucks because he was kind of cute [not that I'm looking] and seemed so nice. Anyway.)

I do have some pictures of the house, if anyone wants to see them?

SO. Moving on. There are some new reviews, and TWO interviews up with me today! (A reminder, since it’s been a while: All links on my blog open in new windows/tabs.)

An interview at BadAss Book Reviews, where we discuss characters and character flaws, and have a bit of fun.

An interview at Red Hot Books, where we discuss the Chess/Terrible relationship and what’s in store a bit.

Both interviews were a lot of fun to do, and I hope you go read them and comment and ask more questions or whatever.

The lovely ladies at Stellar Four review SACRIFICIAL MAGIC:

Readers of Stacia Kane’s Downside Ghosts series, let me reassure you: The things you love about the series abound in Kane’s fourth novel, Sacrificial Magic. Terrifying ghosts. Malicious evil-doers. Magic, both pure and vile. That distinctive Downside cant. And — perhaps most importantly for many of us — the crackling, fraught passion between Chess and Terrible.

Cathy at Greyt Thoughts says:

So, to try and sum things up a little bit, Chess’s emotional story, both the romance and the drug addiction, as well as her strength and bravery when it comes to doing her work and defending the people she cares about, adds tremendously to the fact that these books are serious novels with a lot of layers to explore, not just light adventures. They’re still a lot of fun to read, don’t get me wrong. The mysteries are exciting and interesting. It’s not going to depress you, I’m super sensitive to that, I hate dark and depressing books. The balance it terrific, it’s fun, exciting, thoughtful and smart writing with layers that will leave you thinking for a long time to come. I really recommend this book and this series.

Under the Covers gives it five feathers:

Ms. Kane is one of the very few authors that can make me feel a myriad of emotions, all in one book. Sacrificial Magic is no different.

From the amazing writing, to the non stop story and characters that have stolen my heart. Sacrificial Magic will take you on such a ride, I really didn’t want it to end. THAT I CAN GUARANTEE!

Last but certainly not least, Red Hot Books says:

It’s like watching a star explode: It’s beautiful and destructive and you can’t take your eyes off of it. And before I convince you that it’s all heartwrenching sadness, remember that joy and elation I talked about earlier. It’s not all one way or another. This book took my emotions on a roller coaster. When it was over, my heart was in my throat; I felt satisfied and exhausted; and I’m already dying to get back on the ride. If you have never read this series or if you gave up on it early, you are truly missing out. 5 stars.

…I think that’s it for new reviews, and as always if you’ve written one and I haven’t mentioned it, let me know it’s out there!

And tomorrow is release day, and I am panicking.

I’m very excited about this (as you can tell). And it means I don’t have to have more endoscopies after this, which is also quite cool.

So anyway. Moving on from that little bit of news.

I want to remind everyone that the Goodreads Q&A has officially started, and we’re having a great time over there, so if you have a Goodreads account join in! And if you don’t, it’s free and easy to register.

We have some awesome new SACRIFICIAL MAGIC reviews!!

The Book Savvy Babe gives it Five Stars and says:

I am completely blown away by this urban fantasy series. Each installment in the series brings more emotions, reveals more depth to the characters, and the power gets stronger and stronger. After what seemed like an epic battle in book 3, I was concerned that this book might feel like a filler book, or a set up for the next book. So, I was unprepared when Stacia Kane upped the ante with Sacrificial Magic and blew all of my expectations out of the water.

Sacrificial Magic is one of the most gripping, gut-wrenching, and thoroughly absorbing books I have ever read.

Five Stars from The Book Nympho:

Sacrificial Magic (SM), the 4th book in Stacia Kane’s Downside Ghosts Series and it’s her best book to date. … Sacrificial Magic is a must read and is my current favorite book for this year and I say with total confidence that the only book that will probably top it will be the next book in the Downside series, Chasing Magic.
Fans of dark and gritty UF with damaged heroine and unusual heroes will fall in love with this series.

The lovely Paperback Dolls had this to say:

I suppose I should start this review of Stacia Kane’s next installment in the Downside Ghosts series, Sacrificial Magic, with my confession. I’m a Downside junkie, right up, and I have no interest in giving it up. Now, that’s not to say that I wasn’t ridden hard and put away wet, because I was. That’s just the way it is when you let yourself get willingly strung out on something. Even so, by the time it was over and I looked back on it all, took a deep breath and took it all in, I was glad for the ride and knew I’d do it again as soon as the train left the station.

…any other reviews I should be aware of? You guys know I like to link them as a way of acknowledging the hard work reviewers put into their work, so if you’ve reviewed the book and it’s not here–and you’d like it to be–let me know!

And of course, don’t forget that if you haven’t yet downloaded the PDF of the first three chapters of SACRIFICIAL MAGIC, you can do so here. And of course, don’t forget about the awesome contest I’m running, and the awesome Blog Hop that’s happening!

So yesterday I popped onto Facebook, which I’ve been trying to do more lately, because I have friends who hang out there and I want to be more active there. And while checking my timeline I found someone had posted an image. I won’t re-post the image, but it was one of those “I’m going to make my saying a picture so you’ll read it” things, and it said:

“Brotip #1415: ladies, guys are sick of hearing you ask where all of the ‘nice guys’ are. They’re in the friend zone, where you left them.”

Okay, fuck you.

Let me tell you a story about those “nice guys” shoved into that cold, cruel “friend zone” by all those heartless bitches who only want to date assholes, okay?

I was twenty-two. I’d just–within the prior six months or so, I don’t recall the exact timeline–ended a two-year relationship. Not my first serious relationship, but my first REAL SERIOUS relationship; like the we-lived-together, I’d-imagined-our-children kind of thing, all of that. The first time I was truly, seriously in love. And it had ended well, as friends, but not-well, in that I’d realized I wanted him back but too late, and the whole thing basically sucked. And in trying to move on I’d gotten myself involved with a few men who, to put it mildly, had not treated me particularly well. They hadn’t abused me or anything, but they weren’t exactly nice to me either. My ex and I were still living together as roommates–we had two bedrooms–and were occasionally still sharing one of those beds. And we had the same friends, hung out with the same crowd, but obviously my position in that crowd (since it was mostly men) had changed, at least it felt that way to me. There was a lot of other stuff in there as well, but basically, I was lost, and hurt, and lonely.

I’d known Jose–not his real name–for several years, in a casual “hey there” kind of way; he was also part of the local scene. I don’t remember exactly how it started. I guess we found ourselves hanging around drinking beer in the parking lot at some show, and started chatting, and it was fun. So he started calling me, usually late at night, because he knew I worked late and would be up (there was nothing creepy or weird about him calling late at night, is the point). He called a lot.

And I loved talking to him. He was funny and smart and charming. He laughed at my jokes and made great ones of his own. He teased me; I teased back. He really seemed to understand me, to approve of me. And at that point in my life I was desperate for that kind of approval, when I felt so rejected by someone I’d loved, when I felt like so many of my friends were turning their backs on me and moving away from me; they weren’t, necessarily, but it felt that way. He seemed to genuinely like me. I certainly genuinely liked him.

Jose was not the most handsome guy on the block. He wasn’t unattractive, but he’d had–at the risk of identifying him–some serious skin problems when he was younger, and they’d scarred him. He talked to me very frankly about that, and I appreciated that. It made me feel, again, like we had some kind of connection there, that he would open up to me. And in return I talked just as frankly about some of my own insecurities.

I was firmly convinced that Jose was a Nice Guy.

More than that, I was starting to suspect that I might actually have some genuine feelings for Jose. That when I’d met him and started talking to him/hanging out with him–he came up to my house to hang out and have a few drinks several times–I hadn’t seen him as being really handsome or anything, but we had such a connection; he was so appealing. (Yes, despite what happened later, you might notice a parallel here. Jose was the man who taught me, for real, how little looks can matter and how someone’s appearance can change when you get to know them.) I mean, he understood me so well, and even though he saw and understood the bad parts it was okay with him; he didn’t seem to judge me. He made me laugh like crazy. He had such interesting things to say. He made me happy.

Did I suspect Jose might be interested in more than friendship from me? I suspected it, sure. But I also assumed it wasn’t a huge deal, that he was calling me because like me he genuinely enjoyed our conversations as conversations. I assumed he called because just like how I thought he was fun and funny, just like how he made me feel good about myself, I did the same for him. And I just wasn’t sure how I felt; to be perfectly frank, thanks to the experience with the ex–who wasn’t at fault or anything, but who at one point had decided he wanted me back and then basically changed his mind in the morning–and with the other guys who hadn’t exactly been kind to me, I was pretty scared. I didn’t want to get myself hopeful and involved again. I didn’t want to think someone really cared about me and find out that wasn’t the case, again.

But I found myself thinking about Jose more and more, and hoping he’d call. I’d call him if he didn’t; for a month or so there we talked several nights a week. One night we had an argument over something, I don’t remember what, but I was so upset; I felt sick about it, and that more than anything else made me wonder what exactly my feelings were about him (and he called to apologize, more than once, and sounded so genuinely upset himself, so regretful that he’d hurt me). We’d make plans on the phone to meet up at this show or that.

So basically, I’d started thinking that maybe I really wanted to be with him. That maybe I was really falling for him, seriously. How could I not, when we had so much fun, when I could talk to him about anything and he would talk back? When we had such great chemistry? When he made me feel safe again? Not like something worthless drifting along alone, not like someone people rejected, some irritating unwanted extra, but like a real, good person, the kind of person a genuinely smart and funny guy wanted to spend time with because it was fun and not because he just wanted to get laid?

Then one night we were at a show, hanging out drinking beer in the parking lot with several other people. I was a bit tipsy; I was kind of drifting around, singing along to whatever music we were listening to, occasionally joining the discussion, just having fun. Doing what I usually did.

It got late. Everyone else drifted away, leaving just me and Jose sitting on the back of my car, chatting. Having a good time. And yeah, actually, I was kind of waiting for him to make a move. Not a big move, because I didn’t think either of us were ready for that. But a move, maybe. Mostly, though, I was just appreciating hanging out with my friend. Who I trusted.

When he suddenly turned to me and said, “You’re so fucking egotistical.”

I thought he was kidding; I actually laughed. This was a subject we’d joked about before, actually–or at least I thought they were jokes. I said something like, “Yes, well, when you’re as great as me why wouldn’t you be?” or whatever ridiculous silly response.

He said, “No, I mean it. I’m sick of this. I don’t want to be around you anymore. What’s the point? You’re just using me.”

I think I still thought he was kidding. But I know I was starting to get scared. Worried. What had I done, to make him feel that way? What had I done to hurt him? I didn’t want to hurt him; I cared about him. Liked him. A lot.

But then he told me. I don’t remember his exact words, but what it came down to was, I was using him because I wasn’t sleeping with him.

I didn’t mistake that, because I even asked him, two or three times, if that was what he was really saying. If I was hearing him right. And each time he affirmed that yes, I was.

I thought–somewhere in the confused mess my mind had suddenly become–that maybe he just meant it hurt to hang out with me because he really cared about me, and wanted to step back because he didn’t want to expose himself to more hurt. And I readied myself to say that if he wanted to take the relationship further I’d be willing to try–was interested in trying. Because I still thought he actually liked me, you see. I still thought my friend Jose was actually my friend, that he’d spent all those hours on the phone with me because he liked talking to me.

I was wrong.

Before I could say my little piece, Jose informed me that no, in fact, I was a selfish bitch. That my ego was crazy and out-of-control. That the slightly drunken singing I’d been doing that evening was annoying, and made him sick. That he didn’t want to be around me–that nobody wanted to be around me, that everyone was irritated with me because I didn’t care about anyone but myself. That if I wasn’t interested in sleeping with him I shouldn’t have wasted his time like that and used him like that (at this point I will mention that the man never ran errands for me or bought me so much as a beer, it’s not like I made him take me out to expensive restaurants every night or paint my living room. Not that it would be okay if I had, but still). That he was sick of me using him to feed my own ego and sick of me stepping all over him and sick of me leading him on.

I mentioned this–okay, ranted about it a bit–on Twitter last night. And a couple of people asked me if I told him to fuck off or whatever. No, I didn’t. I was too busy crying. I was too busy feeling sick. I’d apparently hurt someone I cared about, and worse than that, I’d been stupid enough to think he cared about me, too. This was a man who knew so much about me, that I’d opened up to so much, and now he was telling me not only how little that meant to him but that every bad thought I’d ever had about myself, every fear, every bit of self-loathing, was right. That I was right to feel like maybe something was wrong with me, because there was. That maybe I was right to think people didn’t like me, because they didn’t. That I was such a lousy judge of character that I’d believed he liked me, that he was right to tell me I was an ego-mad bitch because hey, my ego had led me to think this guy actually liked me and he hadn’t.

I even seem to recall asking him at one point why he was doing this to me, telling him that I was sorry for whatever it was that I’d done, that I didn’t mean to hurt him. That I thought we were friends, I thought he liked me. And he basically said no, he hadn’t liked me, why would he, when all I ever cared about was myself. He was there because he wanted to fuck me, and if I wasn’t going to let him do that he really had no further use for me.

I don’t remember how it ended; I don’t remember how I got home. I just remember crying, and feeling sick and ashamed and horrified. At myself. Yeah, I knew he was being an asshole, but I also felt like it was my fault. Because when someone tells you that all your worst fears about yourself are true, you believe it. When someone confirms for you that very bad thing you’ve ever thought about yourself is true, you believe it. Especially when it’s someone you really like, someone you respect. When someone you think really knows you, understands you, tells you that yes, you really are that bad?

I honestly can’t think of many things in my life that hurt more than that. Of course there are things. But that night is definitely up there.

That’s what that Nice Guy I “left in the friend zone” did to me.

And you know what? It’s not the only time it ever happened. Yes, it’s the only time it was that dramatic, that painful. But it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last that some guy who wanted to be more than friends got pissed off at me because I didn’t feel the same.

But that’s also not the point.

Here’s the thing, guys. That “friend zone” you think you shouldn’t be in? Women get put into it, too. All the fucking time. I spent most of my high school career being a friend, while the guy I was crazy about chased after one bitch-who-treated-him-like-shit after another. Oh, they always liked me and cared about me; why wouldn’t they? I was the one who held their heads while they puked up Everclear and cried about some other girl. I was the one who’d give them a ride to the latest bitch’s house because it meant I get to spend ten more minutes hanging out with them. Don’t act like you men have a monopoly on that shit, because you don’t.

But here’s the thing, too. Being treated that way? Was my own goddamn fault. They used me because I let them use me. I was the one who tried to be their friend, I was the one who was convinced that if I was open and caring and let them know–in a non-creepy way–how much I thought they deserved happiness and wonderful things, that they’d realize I was the one who could provide it. That was me, not them. They took my offer of friendship at face value; I told them I was their friend, and they believed me, and the only person I can blame for that is me for not having a little more self-respect, for not removing myself from a painful situation, for not being clear in the beginning that I wasn’t Polly Pally.

And for not accepting, very early on when it became clear that their feelings for me were not what mine were for them, that nothing I did would change that. I didn’t turn around and decide all those men were using bastards just because they didn’t want to kiss me, just because they let me drive them home. I didn’t decide that they owed me sex because I drove them home, either. I didn’t bitch about how dare they shove me into the “friend zone” after all I’d done for them.

See, those women you’re crazy about but who don’t feel the same way about you? That imbalance there? That means you’re not right for each other. Period. If you were right for each other, something would have happened; something would be happening. If you were right for each other you would both feel sparks. Seriously.

Yes, we all know the whole Some-Kind-of-Wonderful story where the one person realizes that the other person is their True Love and has been all along. That doesn’t happen very often in real life. If at all. Let me tell you something: my husband and I worked together for a couple of years before we got together. We were Just Friends. But there were always sparks there. They were sparks we ignored, yes, for various reasons. But they were there. The chemistry was there. And we both knew it. As did everyone else who knew us, frankly.

“Oh-ho!” you say. “But Stacia, look at your Jose story above! You’re saying that if he’d just been a little more patient he probably would have gotten into your pants! YOU didn’t realize right away that he was right for you!” Yes. I am. But again, there were in fact sparks there. And yes, the fact that if he’d just been a little more patient he would have gotten somewhere illustrates my point, which is that if something is meant to happen it will, and if nothing happens you’re not right for each other. Keep in mind the whole Jose thing from start to finish was under two months; hardly a long time for two busy people who don’t live particularly close to each other–Kendall to Ft. Lauderdale is a good hour and a half drive. Hardly a long time for someone cautious and unsure of what she’s doing and what she feels. Keep in mind, too, that if Jose had actually made a damn move sooner, instead of waiting and letting his entitled rage build until he had to tell me I was a manipulative bitch, he probably would have gotten somewhere, too. Hey, I suspected he was interested in more, but suspecting doesn’t mean knowing it for sure, and he’d never even touched me when we hung out together alone at my place. So I’d pretty much assumed he was just as confused as me, and just as interested in not putting pressure on anything, in waiting, in just enjoying each others’ company.

Which is another problem with the “friend zone.” The “friend zone” implies that women have some kind of cold and calculating plan, that we are solely in control of how a relationship goes, and that we know, right off the bat, how we feel about a particular man. Guess what? We don’t. We just don’t. Not always. Sometimes we’re confused. Sometimes we’re afraid. Sometimes we’re not sure how we feel, if we can trust how we feel. Sometimes, quite frankly, we’re going through a pretty rough patch, and we’re kind of fucked up and don’t know what we want. And hey, you know what? Sometimes we don’t know how you feel about us.

It’s not like being a woman means all men fall at our feet just by virtue of us possessing vaginas. It’s not like being a woman means that every man we meet wants us or that it gives us some sort of supreme confidence that means we instantly know when a man is interested. We often have some idea, sure. Some idea. Not a certainty. And not all the time. Nowhere near all the time. I can’t count the number of times I’ve met a man who flirted with me and flattered me and then mentioned his girlfriend. I can’t count the number of times that’s happened to friends of mine. It’s just the way it goes. That’s life. It doesn’t make those men jerks–well, not all of them. It just means that sometimes in life our romantic feelings aren’t returned, and we need to grow a fucking pair and deal with that instead of whining and acting like paying attention to someone means we’re entitled to love or sex.

Now, let me back up a tad here to make something clear. I LOVE men. I do. I’ve always gotten along better with men than with women, always had more male friends than female. I’m not saying all men think this way. I’m certainly not saying all women are innocent and perfect, either. There absolutely are women out there who use and manipulate, who take advantage of a man’s interest and attraction to get him to do things for her. I’ve seen them in action. And that is wrong, absolutely. Using and manipulating people is wrong.

But in my experience–just my experience–those women tend to make it pretty clear early on exactly what type of woman they are. Which means you have no one to blame but yourself for not reading the signs. Here’s a hint: are you constantly spending money on her because you think it’ll get you somewhere? Are you constantly doing favors for her because you think it’ll get you somewhere? And she never reciprocates? But you keep doing it, because you think if you do eventually she’ll come around and sleep with you? Are you doing that, are you seeing your relationship with her like that?

A friendship is a give-and-take. I used to have lots of male friends; did I let them buy me dinner? You bet. Did I occasionally buy them dinner? Again, you bet. Because that’s a friendship. They bought me drinks; I bought them drinks. They drove me places; I drove them places. Sure, maybe they did more of it. That’s not the point. It doesn’t have to be a perfectly reciprocal arrangement. But in a friendship one person is not always the giver, and one always the taker. Maybe you usually pay for dinner, and she lets you and doesn’t pay herself. But maybe she occasionally cooks you dinner. Maybe she invites you to a movie and pays for everything. Maybe she sees a book she thinks you’d like and buys it for you. Like I said, friendship is reciprocal; if she always lets you pay, then yeah, you’re essentially taking her on dates, and if she’s not allowing anything physical to happen then she may very well be using you.

But here’s an idea: talk to her about it and ask if she’s interested in a relationship with you. Actually try to kiss her. On the mouth. With your hands on her hips or on her face, not a peck, a real kiss. Does she let you? Then she’s interested. Does she pull away? Then she sees you as just a friend, and what you do next is up to you: either stop seeing her and making yourself her emotional blanket, stop paying for everything, or quit whining about how Nice Guys Like You get stuck in the “Friend Zone.” because you know what? If you keep throwing money at her hoping/thinking it’ll change her mind about fucking you, you’re not a Nice Guy. You’re treating her like a whore. And Nice Guys don’t treat women like whores. Nice Guys don’t assume all women are after is money.

I’m not even going to get into the question of what kinds of women you’re going after, if you’re so bitter about being used for money and dumped into the Friend Zone while she dates guys who treat her like shit. Again, sorry, but I’ve known a few men who continuously found themselves in this situation, and guess what? They were all not exactly movie stars, and they were going after strippers or Hooters girls or other women who make their livings by being as close to physically perfect as possible. Think Shallow Hal. The idea of dating a woman with a few extra pounds on her, or with slightly frizzy hair, or who didn’t always have her make-up perfectly done? An average-looking girl? Nope, no interest. They wanted a trophy girlfriend, and they spent all their time pursuing such, and then complained bitterly about how much women used them and shunted them aside. Uh…dude. Again, maybe the problem is not Those Awful Bitches, maybe the problem is that you keep ignoring girls who might actually like you in order to chase after Awful Bitches (this is not to imply that all strippers or Hooters girls are awful bitches, just to clarify. They aren’t). Yes, some women use men. But if you want a real relationship you’ll learn to avoid them; you’ll actually pay attention and quit volunteering to be used. Hell, maybe you’ll stop for a minute and think about all those women in your life–and there had to be at least a few–who were attracted to you, who wanted you, and you weren’t interested. How did you handle it? Did you still talk to them, hang out with them, because even though you weren’t interested you still enjoyed their company? Did you feel that since they wanted you, that obligated you to sleep with them? Or did you put them in the “friend zone?”

And you’ll quit whining about how women don’t like nice guys. Yes, we do, actually. Every married woman I know is married to a nice guy. (And by the way, did it ever occur to you that when she asks where all the nice guys are, maybe she’s hinting that you’ll say “I’m right here,” and sweep her into your arms? Because she might actually be. It is a possibility. Why not try it? Say, “How about me?” and see what she says. Again, don’t expect her to know, and quit wimping around. Be an adult and talk to her.)

Do we also like bad boys? Sure. Don’t you also like strippers and models and whatever? Of course you do. Are there women out there who only like men who treat them like shit? Yep. Women who use men? Yep. But there are also men who only like women who treat them like shit, and there are plenty of men who use women. There are plenty of users, period. And again, when you’re complaining about how dare those bitches stick you in the friend zone and they should just shut up, that’s what you’re doing: you’re implying that the only reason for a man to hang around with a woman is because he’s hoping to get laid. You’re saying women are not worthwhile as people, that their company is not pleasurable or enjoyable simply as company, that you’re not interested in them as people but only as big walking vaginas. You’re saying you’re deceiving those women, and attempting to manipulate them into giving you what you want by pretending to like them, pretending to enjoy their company for its own sake. You’re saying any woman who takes your offer of friendship at face value is an entitled bitch. You’re saying how dare a woman not feel for you what it is you feel for her.

So guess what. If you feel this way? Next time a woman asks you where all the nice guys are, you can honestly say you don’t know. Because you’re not one.

Another new review, from Addicted2Heroines (Five Stars!):

In this fourth installment to the Downside Ghosts series, Stacia Kane takes us on a dark, sometimes disturbing, yet always fascinating, journey through Downside, Triumph City with drug-addicted Churchwitch Chess Putnam. Fans of this series have waited a long time since City of Ghosts was released in August 2010, and Stacia Kane delivers in spades. Returning to Downside is like coming home (minus the slums and drugs and whatnot). Stacia Kane is a masterful writer and proves it once again in Sacrificial Magic.

Today I start “officially” participating in the Goodreads Q&A Group! There are already some great discussions happening there, and I’d love to see more, so please do sign up and come chat!

Aaaaaaaand…*drumroll*

Our contest is beginning!

It starts TODAY, Tuesday the 20th, and I have a fantastic prize or two in store. Especially the grand prize, which is this:

And THAT is Chess’s pillbox made into a locket, designed by jewelry designer extraordinaire Janet Cadsawan at Cadsawan Jewelry!

The necklace (including 26″ chain) will retail for $48. Pre-orders have opened on the Cadsawan website today! and will start shipping on SACRIFICIAL MAGIC’s release date.

I hope you all love it like I do, and of course I hope you all order one, but this is your chance to get one for free.

I’ll be doing a random drawing for one on April 3rd; one week after SM’s release date. (I will also give away two signed copies of SM, so there’ll be three winners in all.)

You can enter as many times as you want, and here’s how:

Have you pre-ordered SACRIFICIAL MAGIC, in any format, from any retailer? Forward your receipt to DownsideArmy AT gmail, and you get 2 entries!
Are you planning to buy SACRIFICIAL MAGIC in the first week of release (since that’s when the contest runs)? Do so, and forward the receipt–either by forwarding the email or scanning the actual paper receipt to the DA address, and that is also 2 entries!
Tweet about the book, using the tag #sacrificialmagic: 1 entry per tweet
Blog about the book: 2 entries
Mention the book on Facebook*: 1 entry
Change your Facebook avatar/image to SACRIFICIAL MAGIC’s cover: 1 entry per day the avatar is up*
Change your Twitter Avatar/image to SACRIFICIAL MAGIC’s cover: same, 1 entry per day*

IMPORTANT NOTE: If you’re changing your avatars, please @ me, or send me a link, or comment on one of my Facebook posts, so I know you’ve done it! If you’re tweeting/blogging/FBing and also forwarding me receipts, please include your info (as in Twitter handle etc.) so I know who you are and can keep all of your entries in one place (i.e. if I get a receipt from Jane Doe but Jane tweets as BookLover, I don’t necessarily know you’re the same person)! If you blog about the book please send me a link, or @ me with it or use the tag. I don’t want anyone to miss out on entries. Once I know you’ve changed your av I’ll check your link every day, so you don’t need to update me, but I do need to know you’ve done it.

This contest is WORLDWIDE, although do keep in mind that SM won’t be released in the UK/IRE/AU until May and I’ll be doing another contest at that point, so…

Also, the Stacey & Stacia Blog Hop begins today! Check out this chat with Stacey and I here at Addicted2Heroines.

More info and links here at Goldilox and the Three Weres.

And a bunch more info about the giveaway here at Miss Vain’s Paranormal Fantasy.

I think that’s it for today. Really starting to freak out!

Okay, lots to cover today. First, I want to direct those of you who missed it yesterday to the fact that SACRIFICIAL MAGIC’s first three chapters are available as a PDF download on the book’s page here on the site!

Next, a few new reviews!

From Vampire Book Club (bolding theirs):

Chess will infuriate you. She will break your heart. She will surprise you. And by the end you’ll be both exhausted and sated. Sacrificial Magic is dark, and brings the requisite Downside craziness of sex, drugs and magic, but it’s also the most introspective of the novels to date. Clever plot twists, character surprises and brutally honest writing make Sacrificial Magic a must read.

From The Bookaholic Cat:

Sacrificial Magic not only great addition to a great series, it is Urban Fantasy at its best. I can’t recommend enough this book and this series in general.

From My Bookish Ways:

The author’s trademark tight plotting and prose are on full display here, and the killer in this one will give you chills (the ghost too *shudder*). This is a watershed book for Chess, and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for her in the next book!

(And as always, if you’ve written a review, let me know! I like to give you all credit for the hard work you do.)

Okay, moving on…

Tomorrow I start “officially” participating in the Goodreads Q&A Group! There are already some great discussions happening there, and I’d love to see more, so please do sign up and come chat!

Aaaaaaaand…*drumroll*

Our contest is beginning!

It will officially start tomorrow, Tuesday the 20th, and I have a fantastic prize or two in store. Especially the grand prize, which is this:

And THAT is Chess’s pillbox made into a locket, designed by jewelry designer extraordinaire Janet Cadsawan at Cadsawan Jewelry!

The necklace (including 26″ chain) will retail for $45, and pre-orders will open on the Cadsawan website tomorrow (I believe) and start shipping on SACRIFICIAL MAGIC’s release date.

I hope you all love it–like I do, and of course I hope you all order one, but this is your chance to get one for free.

I’ll be doing a random drawing for one on April 3rd; one week after SM’s release date. (I will also give away two signed copies of SM, so there’ll be three winners in all.)

You can enter as many times as you want, and here’s how:

Have you pre-ordered SACRIFICIAL MAGIC, in any format, from any retailer? Forward your receipt to DownsideArmy AT gmail, and you get 2 entries!
Are you planning to buy SACRIFICIAL MAGIC in the first week of release (since that’s when the contest runs)? Do so, and forward the receipt–either by forwarding the email or scanning the actual paper receipt to the DA address, and that is also 2 entries!
Tweet about the book, using the tag #sacrificialmagic: 1 entry per tweet
Blog about the book: 2 entries
Mention the book on Facebook*: 1 entry
Change your Facebook avatar/image to SACRIFICIAL MAGIC’s cover: 1 entry per day the avatar is up*
Change your Twitter Avatar/image to SACRIFICIAL MAGIC’s cover: same, 1 entry per day*

IMPORTANT NOTE: If you’re changing your avatars, please @ me, or send me a link, or comment on one of my Facebook posts, so I know you’ve done it! If you’re tweeting/blogging/FBing and also forwarding me receipts, please include your info (as in Twitter handle etc.) so I know who you are and can keep all of your entries in one place (i.e. if I get a receipt from Jane Doe but Jane tweets as BookLover, I don’t necessarily know you’re the same person)! If you blog about the book please send me a link, or @ me with it or use the tag. I don’t want anyone to miss out on entries. Once I know you’ve changed your av I’ll check your link every day, so you don’t need to update me, but I do need to know you’ve done it.

This contest is WORLDWIDE, although do keep in mind that SM won’t be released in the UK/IRE/AU until May and I’ll be doing another contest at that point, so…

Aaaand, I guess that’s it. I think that’s all I have for today. So:

Reviews!
Q & A Group!
JEWELRY!
CONTEST!

ONLY ONE WEEK TO GO!! EEK!

I hope you all enjoy it!

BUT. You know what? That’s okay. It’s more than okay, actually. Because while she didn’t win, I didn’t honestly expect her to; the MISTBORN books are huge, it’s an enormously, enormously popular series, and Kelsier is one of those “practically a god” characters in terms of power. I pretty much assumed going in that Chess was outmatched.

More than that, though? Check out the numbers! Chess ended up with 28.78 of the vote; 724 votes!!

That may not seem impressive, but when you look at Kelsier’s first match against Gale Hawthorne from the HUNGER GAMES series…dude. Gale ended up with only 7.67% of the vote; 214 votes total.

This is huge to me, guys, seriously. I’m so flattered, and thrilled, and amazed, that so many of you turned out to support Chess. Really. She got more votes in the battle she lost than some of the winners got in battles they won, and that’s incredible. I can’t thank you all enough for the support.

Which means that even though Chessie lost, I’m posting an excerpt anyway. Because while I can’t say I think my writing is some superspecial prize, I want to at least give you something, and it’s not like I can visit each one of your houses and cook you dinner.

CHASING MAGIC won the “Which book” poll last week, but plenty of you did want an excerpt from SACRIFICIAL, so that’s what I’m going with:

The adrenaline started to fade, leaving her hands shaky and her chest and head aching. She could take care of that, but…damn it. She pressed her palm to her forehead for a second, took a deep breath, and headed back into the drama classroom. The odds of her finding anything useful in there were slim to none, but she’d look anyway. At least she could make a note that she’d looked, that she’d—

How had they known?

She hadn’t called before heading out, hadn’t told anyone at Mercy Lewis to expect her. Nor, to her knowledge, had anyone at the Church, although of course she’d have to double-check that.

She hadn’t spoken to anyone when she arrived except Beulah, Monica, and Laurie. Hadn’t seen anyone, and although technically anyone could have seen her when she arrived, nothing about her—her scuffed and dusty boots, her black jeans, the faded blue polo she wore over a black long-sleeved t-shirt or her black-dyed Bettie Page haircut—screamed “Church employee.” Quite the opposite, in fact; she’d deliberately worn street clothes.

So how had anyone known who she was, to sabotage the catwalk while she was on it? How had someone not only known who she was, but made it into the drama room in enough time to start fucking with the bolts? Not to mention the wires.

That suggested a planned attack. More than one person.

Had it even been aimed at her at all? And if not, what the hell was the point?

She grabbed her notebook to scribble all of that down while it was fresh in her mind. Especially because now that the rush had faded and the shakes and flashbacks were coming—she could feel them in the back of her mind, feel the way her hand gripped the pen too tightly—and she knew she’d be alone for, oh, four or five hours at least, she planned to head home, crack her pillbox, and try to forget it all as quickly as possible.

Someone had tried to kill her. Or at least, given the way the catwalk hit the stage fairly harmlessly, to scare the fuck out of her. Whether they knew she was Church or not—and given the timing it was hard to believe they had—someone had just fucked with her in a particularly unpleasant way. A particularly unpleasant way that didn’t involve a lot of things she took drugs to forget, anyway.

Unless, of course, someone had made some calls. Both Monica and Beulah had made bathroom or office stops before they headed to the theater, so either of them could have picked up the phone. Shit. Four hours on the case, two of them spent doing research at Church, and she’d already survived a murder attempt. That didn’t bode well.

But it boded better than what she saw on the wall, what she found on the wrench lying on the floor nearby. Just two little smears of it. Two little smears of what she hoped was Vaseline or some similar substance, but which the knowledge she’d gotten from her Church training and the knowledge she’d gotten from a lifetime of having everything go wrong every damn time told her was something much worse.

Ectoplasm.

Aaaaand…we have some new reviews and stuff!

Five stars from Urban Fantasy Book Reviews:

Whether [the reader's heart] is pounding in fear, or breaking in sympathy, this book was satisfying on pretty much every level…. For anyone that hasn’t picked up this amazing series yet, or perhaps you’ve seen it floating around on peoples’ shelves but have been put off by the fact that the MC is an addict, I have to implore you to reconsider. This is such an addictive (ha), compelling series.

From Underworld Love Addiction:

If I had not completely jumped on the Downside bandwagon initially, I am officially in love with this series now! … I highly recommend this series, especially the third and fourth books! You’ve outdone yourself again Stacia Kane.

From Owlcat Mountain:

I was very excited to see that the Downside Ghosts series is continuing, and I wasn’t disappointed upon reading the most recent offering. Sacrificial Magic is full of dangerous spells, murderous ghosts and dark rooms oozing dread. Featuring one of the most unusual heroines you’ll read about, Stacia Kane’s books are worth going out of your way to pick up.

And, because I find it hilarious, here’s Harriet Klausner’s take (I’m especially tickled by “Sloberg”) (warning: minor spoilers in the review itself):

Sacrificial Magic is a great entry in a special one of a kind saga as the ghost hunter becomes the haunted hunted.

“The haunted hunted” sounds like a great title for a parody, doesn’t it?

Last but certainly not least, Chelsea Mueller has written a lovely little analysis/overview thingy of Chess and Terrible’s relationship over at Heroes & Heartbreakers (again, it does contain some minor spoilers of SM, but it’s worth a read once you’ve read the book or if you don’t mind the little spoilers):

Sacrificial Magic is a journey for Chess and Terrible. She has to learn to trust and accept it from others. Terrible is helping her learn to accept love and affection without expecting strings.

If you’re one who has tracked their romantic subplot, Sacrificial Magic is your book. Chess is in a real relationship and Terrible continues to be a noble hero with an unsavory job.

Anyway. I have a bit of ranting to do that I hope I will get to next week, but with all the pre-release work for SM, AND the fact that we’re moving next week, I’m not sure how much I’ll be around (oh, but I will be starting the contest on Monday, so stay tuned for that, at least). I’ll try, though, because I have some stuff I really want to say about how relationships are portrayed in fiction and the importance of authorial intent and stuff like that.

So again…thank you all so much for supporting Chess in the Cage Match! I’m overwhelmed.