Comment below for a chance to win the e-book!!

Excerpt:

He sits on the steps to the County Courthouse, a pink rubber ball in his hand. His chubby, four-year-old hands can make the ball bounce on the step below—that is not the problem. But to catch the ball before it bounces irretrievably down the steps—now that is another issue. He tried once and it rolled down onto the street, and Mr. Spence of the hardware supply store gave him a sound yelling after nearly running over the ball. Huey saw the tires of the truck barely miss the ball, 'cause he was right there in front of it when it almost happened. Then Mr. Howe didn't even say he was sorry for almost running over the ball. Grown-ups sure are funny sometimes.

Now he is unsure whether he should try again. Daddy always says you can't learn anything new unless you practice...but Mommy said to behave while she and Daddy are away; and he doesn't want anyone else to yell at him. These things always have a way of getting back to Mommy. Anyway, he wasn't supposed to leave Gramma's house at all. But he likes to explore, and figures as long as he doesn't do anything too bad, he'll be able to get back before anyone knows. He decides to keep the ball safely clutched in his hand while he instead tries to jump from step to step on just one foot. He's seen some of the older girls in town do it before, and he's pretty sure that even though he's younger he can do anything a stupid girl can do. With one hand holding the ball and the other holding his left leg behind him, he starts to give it a try. He makes it down the first eight steps successfully (counting all the way, 'cause Mommy taught him to count to ten already). But then he loses grip of his ball, and it throws him off balance as he tumbles to the bottom of the steps, right in front of Mrs. Muller and Mrs. Simpson. Mrs. Muller stumbles. “Hugo Brewer, you naughty little boy! You've nearly tripped me.” Mrs. Simpson is crouching down to help Huey. “Now, Clarissa, you're fine. We need to see if little Huey is okay...Why, Huey, you've scraped your chin!” Feeling jarred but not wanting to show that to crummy old Mrs. Muller, Huey holds in the tears that are starting to form and stands as tall as his 3-foot figure will allow, chin jutting forward and blond hair shining in the afternoon sun. “It's all right, Miss Simpson. I'm awful sorry about trippin'.” “Where on earth is your mother?” Mrs. Muller shakes her head. Huey scowls at his interrogator with icy blue eyes. “Gramma said they're here.” “Well, as if it wasn't bad enough that she's flouting at God's will, she leaves her young son outside to wreak havoc on the town!” Mrs. Simpson pulls at Mrs. Muller. “Clarissa, don't make a bad situation worse. I'm sure she had little choice, given her people are all the way in De Soto. It probably didn't seem right to have Mrs. Brewer look after him, given the occasion.” “What's a 'casion?” asks Huey inquisitively of Mrs. Simpson. Ignoring his question, Mrs. Muller pulls away Mrs. Simpson. “Come now, Nancy. We don't want to be mixed up in any of this business.” With an apologetic look, Mrs. Simpson follows her less sympathetic friend. Huey watches them go, until he realizes that now his ball is gone completely. Aw, nuts. It must have rolled down into the sewer from the gutter. Darn that old Mrs. Muller and her fussin'. No way Daddy's gonna get him a new one now. He tromps up the stairs and sinks once again onto the top step. There's gotta be some way to get into the sewer. He looks hopefully over at the manhole cover, and then over to the courthouse. Doggone it. Mommy is just now coming out of the courthouse. Huey frowns to himself—he has to get back to Gramma’s before Mommy finds him gone. It’s now or never. He makes a purposeful stride towards the manhole. He does not know that a pink ball is the second thing he will lose today. He does not know that, inside, his parents are finalizing the papers that will change his life forever. As he looks over at a nearby tree, devising a way to break off one of the branches in order that he may use it as a lever, he does not know that in two week’s time he will never again sit on these steps, never again get yelled at by Mr. Spence, never again have heads shaken at him in this small county seat. And he does not know that this is the last day he will ever spend with his father.

Interview!

Tell us the story behind that cover!

Originally, the Purple Heart was the primary focus of the cover, with the two people facing each other in silhouette taking the place of George Washington's profile. But it came off cold and unappealing. I wanted to be careful if using an image of real people. It was important to me that the main characters looked like regular people, not polished models. I wanted there to be an honesty to it. My publisher Michael found this great website of stock photos with some period images, and this image really spoke to me. The man especially looked somewhat like I imagined the character. We purchased the rights to the image and superimposed it onto the modified Purple Heart, and then I played with it in Photoshop to make it look like an illustration. I'm really pleased with the result. There is a joy in that couple, which I think is important in conveying the overall idea of this story of two people relieved to find love as a second chance.

What can we learn from your main character?

I think a lot of Hilde's story is about overcoming the implications of decisions she made in the past. Sure, these decisions we make inform what we do moving on--but you shouldn't have to deny yourself happiness because of past mistakes. Society sometimes confuses us as to how we're supposed to rate our own successes in life and love; when really as women our lives are multi-faceted and anything but conventional. We play different (sometimes competing) roles, and make choices as a result. It takes a strong woman to do the thing that society frowns upon but that ultimately makes her stronger. I think this is a strength that she doesn't realize she has, and she has to be comfortable with herself before she can really be happy with someone else.

What has been your greatest compliment as an author, your worst criticism?

The greatest compliment on this novel was that my dad really felt moved by the story. It was based partially on his mother, and so that it moved him was a true validation of the work. The worst criticism I got was for my first book, A Time Apart. It was rejected by the all the conventional publishing houses I sent it to, and ultimately I self-published until Chances Press picked up the extended distribution. So I suppose everything ultimately happens for a reason.

What part of the story was the hardest to write, the beginning, the middle, the climax?

It was difficult to figure out how to resolve the issues between the couple, after they have a major falling out. It was my husband who really triggered the idea for the resolution centering around both of their relationships with the little boy. When you have children, you often find it is they who see the simple truth in a difficult situation.

Is your main character based on anyone in particular? Did you have a muse for this book?

I based the story partially on what I knew about my paternal grandmother, who came out to California with my dad when he was just 5 years old. What struck me, even though I do not have a similar life experience per se, was how much I related to her once I got inside her head, so to speak. How much I sympathize with women who have been challenged by a perceived failure at convention's expectations.

Fast Round Names of your pets

My cat, Jedi, and my dog, Rosemary (Rosie).

Favorite ice cream, color, book, and television show

Soft spot in my heart for Thrifty's Chocolate Malted Crunch. Blue. Jane Eyre. Once Upon A Time (current); Buffy (all-time).

Fame or Fortune

Neither leads to true happiness. But a little extra money wouldn't hurt.

Grapes or Raisins

Grapes.

Zombies, Vampires, or neither

Vamps, but the kind that eat people, not the kind that shimmer and whine.

The Book!

When Dallas resident Callie Taylor died young, she expected to go to Heaven, or maybe Hell. Instead, she met her fate early thanks to a creep with a knife and a mommy complex. Now she's witnessed another murder, and she's not about to let this one go. She's determined to help solve it before an innocent man goes to prison. And to answer the biggest question of all: why the hell did she wake up in Alabama?

Excerpt

As Molly straightened up, the man slipped the wire over her head and twisted it around her neck. She struggled, but he pulled the garrote tighter and tighter.

I was screaming at the top of my ghostly voice, for all the good it did me. I moved up behind the man and beat at his back with closed fists--fists that slipped in and out of his back without ever making real contact. He shuddered a little--clearly he was one of the very slightly sensitive ones--but he didn’t loosen his hands.

I reached up and tried to grab the wire, tried to pull against the pressure he was exerting on the wire and it did loosen for an instant. But only for an instant. The living have more control over solid objects than the dead do. I never resented that fact more than at that moment.

But I kept trying. I kept trying as Molly’s face turned purple, then blue, then black, kept trying even as she drooped in the man’s grip.

Then he loosened the wire and it was too late. I watched that wispy, light-on-fog life force slip out of Molly and move on to wherever it is that other people go when they die. I was glad she didn’t show up next to me as a full-blown ghost. At that moment, I wouldn’t have wished my impotent half-existence on anyone.

I couldn’t help thinking that if I’d been alive, I might have been able to save her.

If I could have cried real tears, I would have. As it was, I was sobbing hoarsely and calling the man every dirty name I could think of.

I was still cursing as I followed him around the kitchen. First he opened the pantry and pulled out a box of Hefty garbage bags. Then he grabbed a knife out of the block on the counter. And finally, he picked up Molly’s body and carried it to the bathroom.

Author’s Bio: Margo Bond Collins lives in Texas with her husband, their daughter, several spoiled cats, and a ridiculous turtle. She teaches college-level English courses online, though writing fiction is her first love. She enjoys reading urban fantasy and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about vampires, ghosts, zombies, werewolves, and other monsters. Waking Up Dead is her first published novel. Her second novel, Legally Undead, is an urban fantasy, forthcoming in 2014 from World Weaver Press.

Links

Email: MargoBondCollins@gmail.com

Website: http://www.MargoBondCollins.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MargoBondCollin @MargoBondCollin

Google+: https://plus.google.com/116484555448104519902

Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/vampirarchy

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/MargoBondCollins

Facebook Novel Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Waking-Up-Dead/502076076537575

Tumblr: http://vampirarchybooks.tumblr.com/

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/mbondcollins/

Be sure to add Waking Up Dead to your Goodreads bookshelves: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18428064-waking-up-dead

Book Trailers: