Tag Archives: New Adult – Literary – Contemporary fiction – Women’s fiction

Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert Virtual Book Tour

Wild Asses of the Mojave banner

Wild Asses of the Mojave cover

New Adult – Literary – Contemporary fiction –
Women’s fiction

Date Published:10-20-2023

Publisher: Mapleton Press

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

This novel about friendship, nostalgia, and finding oneself is funny and
tender, moving and poetic, while standing firmly in hope and love. The
characters are thinkers, overthinkers really, who are trying to find their
way by asking the deep questions of life with wide-eyed wonder and talking
through life’s uncertainties. They fearlessly confront the choices they’ve
made, examining their desires and their mistakes. The result is a smart,
engaging novel depicting a young woman’s search for the people and place she
will call home.

 

Praise for Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert 

 ‘The best stories begin with wreckage.’ Jack London 

…a journey away from the familiar and into the desert of discovery…As relationship quandaries, marriage possibilities, and good and harmful emotional connections emerge against the backdrop of the desert environment, readers receive a multifaceted story that connects via both emotional and landscape twists of perspective. 

Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert is a novel that pulls at heart and mind alike. Through Skye’s journey and process of letting go everything she’s held tightly throughout her life, readers receive a compelling saga… 

-D. Donovan, Sr. Reviewer, Midwest Book Review 

 

 With lyrical prose and philosophical conversation, Skye’s relationships light up as fiercely as the streaks marking the desert sky at night. This novel about friendship, nostalgia, and finding oneself is funny and tender, moving and poetic, while standing firmly in hope and love. The characters are thinkers, overthinkers really, who are trying to find their way by asking the deep questions of life with wide-eyed wonder and talking through life’s uncertainties. They fearlessly confront the choices they’ve made, examining their desires and their mistakes. The result is a smart, engaging novel depicting a young woman’s search for the people and place she will call home. Returning home is a powerful and effective plot device that, in this author’s hands, feels vibrant and new partly because of the fully realized characters and strong dialogue that endow the relationships with wise and vivid truths about life. 

-RECOMMENDED by the US Review

 

Wild Asses of the Mojave tablet

EXCERPT

On my first night back in the desert I dreamed that in the future, scientists carbon dated my memories and determined the last six years of my life never existed. It was glorious. A total lie, but glorious. The next morning, I woke in the guest bedroom of my sister’s house. After forty-two hours of driving across the country, all I had to show for it was the tips of my cowboy boots pointed straight at the ceiling. I stared at the smooth white paint, wanting to start over, but false starts followed me like the smooth second hand rolling around a dial. I didn’t have a map of my life, just a feeling connected to a feeling. I’d gone too far out into that wide-open space that turns back on you and howls. I pressed wildflowers into the pages of my favorite Murakami. I was a mess. 

I sighed, rolled over, kicked off my boots, left my jeans on, and walked down the hall topless. It was as close to a plan as I was going to get.

Dylan was sitting on the sofa, pulling a little rake over the pristine sand of a Zen garden. 

My arms flew to my chest. “I’ll get a shirt,” I said, spinning around quickly.

Dylan laughed, “Why bother now?”

“Perv. I thought I was alone.”

“We’re never alone in this infinite universe, Skye.”

Not one for calling ahead, or planning, or even knocking, he just showed up. Dylan was good at showing up. He’d moved into a trailer out in the desert, eating hash brownies and tracking UFO sightings in a journal he won at a rodeo raffle. It was a small town. Rumors flew constantly. I knew all about that stuff before he showed up because my sister told me. I snatched one of her dirty tees from the hall floor and walked back to the living room. 

Dylan was in the kitchen by then, opening the freezer. He paused, and even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew what he was looking at. “Do you know you have a dead squirrel in your freezer?” He poked its tail. “At least, I hope it’s dead.” 

I walked over and shut the freezer door with one hand. “It’s not a squirrel. It’s a chinchilla, and I loved him.”

Prying eyes turned. “What’s going on? Why do you have dead rodents in the freezer?”

“Because I have a hard time saying goodbye. He died on me the night before I left.”

“What was really going on in South Carolina?”

I scooped coffee into the filter. “I was working at this quasi-massage parlor out by the airport while my boyfriend learned to play the guitar. I didn’t do the old rub-and-tug because I was just a receptionist, but the pay was good, and in the middle of two back-to-back recessions I was kinda grateful to be able to stare at the ceiling and contemplate the meaning of life while men groaned on the other side of thin walls. I sold a bunch of acid for gas money to get back here. I also learned to draw my feelings.”

Dylan blinked without moving, like one of those strange insects on the Nature Channel. “So, you were off with some confused douchebag trying to find himself, while Trevor was screwing up his life by marrying a girl he doesn’t love?”

“Did he tell you that?”

“She’s cheating on him with some guy at the assisted living facility.”

“A patient?”

“Gross. No. Some guy she works with.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Do you have any more acid?”

“No. I sold it all in a desperate attempt to get out of there.”

“Huh.”

“Why are you here?”

He shrugged. “I was trying to get your sister to have sex with me.”

“Did it work?”

“No.” He reached for a coffee cup, then said, “Listen. I want to show you something.”

Dylan jerked the steering wheel to avoid plowing into a rolling tumbleweed. He drove the way he lived: in a weird, herky-jerky motion that made everyone carsick except him. The truck blazed past the Sno Cream Castle. Cardboard covered the windows, and the doors were boarded shut. The sight whizzed by so fast that I turned in my seat. Sprigs of weeds with tiny flowers poked up through cracks in the asphalt. Old signs in the windows announced banana splits and milkshakes with swirls of peanut butter cup pieces. The metal-and-concrete picnic tables were still bolted to the earth, but clearly, something had swooped down and taken the soul of the Sno Cream Castle to heaven.

I jerked my thumb. “Is it closed for the season?”

“It’s closed for good,” Dylan sighed. “I haven’t had a decent Cherry Limealicious and order of onion rings since.”

My mind trailed back to in the Sno Cream Castle. Stones rose up at the corners where the picnic tables stood empty. I used to swing a leg over and straddle the concrete bench and Trevor at the same time. Every moment dripped with the possibility of his tongue touching mine. That sweet place where cotton candy met salted caramel. I leaned back in my seat, burning details into my mind. I’d pass it again. It was off the highway, impossible to avoid, but I would never dip my fingers into a Sugar Cream Shake again, and that made me ache.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t want this life anymore, Skye. I don’t know why you’re so shocked that it fell apart.” He shrugged. “Besides, we were planning on having that concrete picnic table bronzed for you.” 

“It’s not always about sex, Dylan.” 

“Don’t kid yourself,” he winked. “We’re adults now. It’s always about sex.” 

We’d been on a dirt road for a while when the charred remains of a car came into view. Instinctively, I looked out the back window to make sure we weren’t followed. Burnt to a total crisp. Dylan pulled to a stop a few yards away. The whole scene felt cinematic as I stepped out. The creaking of the door opening, the charred skeleton of a car, the thump of boots on dry ground. A dusty cooler lay open a few feet away. 

“There’s a cooler over here.” I tipped it with the toe of my boot. “And it’s empty.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said, walking to the burnt car. “It had tubes of bull semen in it.”

Two car doors laid haphazardly in the brush, blown off.

“Bull semen?”

“Yeah, it’s quite a commodity, and will allow me to live without bill collectors for a while. You wouldn’t turn your nose up at thirty-eight big ones.”

I stared at him under the blazing light. Rugged. Manly. Crazy. “There’s a black market for bull semen?”

“There’s a black market for everything.”

Turning in a circle to illustrate the complete isolation, I asked, “So you just happened to find this burnt-out car in the middle of nowhere, with a cooler full of bull semen?”

“It wasn’t really a cooler full of bull semen. It’s kept in canisters inside the cooler, inside these things called ‘straws’. But yes. You make it sound a little more exciting than it was.”

“Dylan, how did you find this place?”

He looked at the car for a minute, eyes falling to the charred hood, warped and twisted. “Charlie led me out here.”

The wind changed course. The burnt smell of plastic assaulted my nose. “Your dead dog led you to a burnt-out car in the middle of the desert?”

“It was still on fire when I got here, but yes. Something like that. I woke up from a dream about Charlie, grabbed a cup of coffee and started driving.”

Uh-huh. Why did you bring me out here?”

He pointed to the other side of the car and said, “Follow me.”

I followed Dylan about two hundred yards away to a hole in the earth, where a large pink-gold stone glowed.

“Whoa,” I backed up. “Is that thing radioactive?”

“I don’t think so. If it is, I’m screwed. I touched it. No signs of radiation poisoning.”

Yet.”

He actually took the time to make eye contact with me before rolling his eyes. 

“Okay,” I said, confused. “Where did it come from?”

Dylan jabbed his finger at the sky in an insistent way, and said, “I think it’s a meteorite. I think it hit the roof of this car and ignited.”

“Which explains what?”

Dylan shrugged. “I think this rock is here to help us find meaning in our lives.”

What?”

He dusted his hands off. “Listen, there was a sign back there on the highway that said beer cheaper than gas. Let’s go see if there’s truth in advertising.”

 

 

About the Author

Lis Anna-Langston

Lis Anna-Langston was raised along the winding current of the Mississippi
River on a steady diet of dog-eared books. She attended a Creative and
Performing Arts School from middle school until graduation and went on to
study Literature at Webster University. Her novels have won the
Parents’ Choice Gold, Moonbeam Book Award, Independent Press Award,
Benjamin Franklin Book Award and NYC Big Book Awards. A three-time Pushcart
award nominee and Finalist in the Brighthorse Book Prize, William Faulkner
Fiction Contest, George Garrett Fiction Prize and Thomas Wolfe Fiction
Award, her work has been published in The Literary Review, Emerson Review,
The Merrimack Review, Emrys Journal, The MacGuffin, Sand Hill Review and
dozens of other literary journals.

Hailed as “an author with a genuine flair for originality” by
Midwest Book Review and “a loveable, engaging, original
voice…” by Publishers Weekly, you can find her in the wilds of
South Carolina plucking stories out of thin air.

Contact Links

Website

Twitter @LisAnnaLangston

Goodreads

Instagram

 

Purchase Links

Universal

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

iBooks

Smashwords

 

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Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert Blitz

Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert banner

 

Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert cover

New Adult – Literary – Contemporary fiction –
Women’s fiction

Date Published:10-20-2023

Publisher: Mapleton Press

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

This novel about friendship, nostalgia, and finding oneself is funny and
tender, moving and poetic, while standing firmly in hope and love. The
characters are thinkers, overthinkers really, who are trying to find their
way by asking the deep questions of life with wide-eyed wonder and talking
through life’s uncertainties. They fearlessly confront the choices they’ve
made, examining their desires and their mistakes. The result is a smart,
engaging novel depicting a young woman’s search for the people and place she
will call home.

 

Praise for Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert 

 ‘The best stories begin with wreckage.’ Jack London 

…a journey away from the familiar and into the desert of discovery…As relationship quandaries, marriage possibilities, and good and harmful emotional connections emerge against the backdrop of the desert environment, readers receive a multifaceted story that connects via both emotional and landscape twists of perspective. 

Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert is a novel that pulls at heart and mind alike. Through Skye’s journey and process of letting go everything she’s held tightly throughout her life, readers receive a compelling saga… 

-D. Donovan, Sr. Reviewer, Midwest Book Review 

 

 With lyrical prose and philosophical conversation, Skye’s relationships light up as fiercely as the streaks marking the desert sky at night. This novel about friendship, nostalgia, and finding oneself is funny and tender, moving and poetic, while standing firmly in hope and love. The characters are thinkers, overthinkers really, who are trying to find their way by asking the deep questions of life with wide-eyed wonder and talking through life’s uncertainties. They fearlessly confront the choices they’ve made, examining their desires and their mistakes. The result is a smart, engaging novel depicting a young woman’s search for the people and place she will call home. Returning home is a powerful and effective plot device that, in this author’s hands, feels vibrant and new partly because of the fully realized characters and strong dialogue that endow the relationships with wise and vivid truths about life. 

-RECOMMENDED by the US Review

 

 

About the Author

Lis Anna-Langston

Lis Anna-Langston was raised along the winding current of the Mississippi
River on a steady diet of dog-eared books. She attended a Creative and
Performing Arts School from middle school until graduation and went on to
study Literature at Webster University. Her novels have won the
Parents’ Choice Gold, Moonbeam Book Award, Independent Press Award,
Benjamin Franklin Book Award and NYC Big Book Awards. A three-time Pushcart
award nominee and Finalist in the Brighthorse Book Prize, William Faulkner
Fiction Contest, George Garrett Fiction Prize and Thomas Wolfe Fiction
Award, her work has been published in The Literary Review, Emerson Review,
The Merrimack Review, Emrys Journal, The MacGuffin, Sand Hill Review and
dozens of other literary journals.

Hailed as “an author with a genuine flair for originality” by
Midwest Book Review and “a loveable, engaging, original
voice…” by Publishers Weekly, you can find her in the wilds of
South Carolina plucking stories out of thin air.

Contact Links

Website

Twitter @LisAnnaLangston

Goodreads

Instagram

 

Purchase Links

Universal

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

iBooks

Smashwords

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert Blitz

Filed under BOOKS

Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert Teaser

Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert banner

 

Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert cover

New Adult – Literary – Contemporary fiction –
Women’s fiction

Date Published:10-20-2023

Publisher: Mapleton Press

 

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

 

This novel about friendship, nostalgia, and finding oneself is funny and
tender, moving and poetic, while standing firmly in hope and love. The
characters are thinkers, overthinkers really, who are trying to find their
way by asking the deep questions of life with wide-eyed wonder and talking
through life’s uncertainties. They fearlessly confront the choices they’ve
made, examining their desires and their mistakes. The result is a smart,
engaging novel depicting a young woman’s search for the people and place she
will call home.

A RECOMMENDED read by the US Review

 

 

Excerpt

 

The inside of the White Tavern was dark and smelled like stale cigarettes
and grease. A server came over, wearing tight black skinny jeans and an old
Van Halen concert tee.

Dylan turned sideways in the booth to stretch his legs out. “Tell me
about this beer that’s cheaper than gas.”

“Dollar eighty-four,” the server said, which was, in fact,
cheaper than gas.

“Do you have any fries to go with those competitive beer
prices?”

It had been a long time since I’d had my favorite sandwich. Pimiento
cheese. Pickles. Ham. I sunk my teeth into a yummy bite of teenage years and
moaned out loud.

Dylan looked up from his double order of fries and raised an eyebrow.
“Do you and that sandwich need to be alone?”

I ignored his comment. “Was there anything else in that car? Anything
that might indicate a drug deal gone bad?”

“Nope. Just the cooler and the rock.”

“Huh.”

Dylan locked eyes with me. “That rock means something,
Skye.”

The dining area was empty except for us, and one other table near the back
with kitchen staff. Still, Dylan leaned across the table and whispered
urgently, “It’s like that scene in Pulp Fiction with the
briefcase in the diner.”

I furrowed my brow and gagged on a sesame seed. “With Honey
Bunny?”

“And Pumpkin.”

“What?”

Dylan leaned back and shrugged. “The guy’s name was Pumpkin.
Honey Bunny and…”

“I know. I’ve seen it thirteen times. I’m just wondering
why we’re out here in the middle of the desert with you drawing
comparisons of your life to a film that came out when you were seven years
old.”

“You—you, you mock me, Skye, but there’s a
connection.”

“Between a film and that glowing rock?”

“Yes.” He clasped his hands together firmly and laid them on
the table.

“There’s no rock in Pulp Fiction.”

“It’s implied.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s in the briefcase.”

“We never see what’s in the briefcase.”

Dylan squirmed in an exaggerated way and said, “God, use your
imagination, Skye. It’s a glowing rock.”

“Okay. Say it is a glowing rock. What does that have to do with
us?”

“It’s our time to finally make sense of our lives.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“No, you haven’t.”

I grabbed the ketchup bottle and whacked the bottom. “How do you
know?”

“Because you’re here. Right back where you started. Look,
don’t get me wrong, I love sitting out in the desert drinking Miller
High Life, listening to the coyotes howl, playing charades in the firelight
with your sister, but I’m glad you’re home.”

“You played charades with my sister?”

“Sure. Isn’t that what you were doing back east? Playing
charades? Sounds like? Feels like? Rhymes with?

“You saying those six years were nothing more than a
game?”

“We were all playing a game. It’s okay to admit the truth, even
if it’s hard.”

His answer was so simple and earnest, I didn’t know whether to kill
him or cry. I looked down at my plate with a strange mixture of surrender
and hunger. “What do you think I was doing on the East
Coast?”

Dylan inhaled and shrugged, “Trying to escape this place and burn
Trevor out of your mind with hot yoga and gluten-free buns.” He
touched my greasy hand and said, “It’s not a judgment. Look, I
don’t know what you were doing out there. You didn’t exactly
call. But you’re here now, and so am I, and I believe this is some
kind of strange gift.”

“If the rock is so important, why haven’t you moved
it?”

“It’s really heavy. I’m going to have to dig it out.
That’s where you come in.”

Dylan was always a crazy trailblazer adjusting his tinfoil hat, but
he’d leveled up the weird while I was gone.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

If I stood perfectly still in the stall, I could hear the sound of the end
coming. A sharp chapter break pushing forward. Tracks winding into a new
future. One I couldn’t see, because I was still stuck in the backseat
of my past life. I sat on the toilet and thought about escape. The problem
was I’d been escaping my entire life. Running from everything.
Destiny. Relationships. Myself. I looked down at my jeans bunched up around
my knees. I’d already managed to get stuck in a hole, might as well
grab a shovel and dig.

About the Author

Lis Anna-Langston was

Lis Anna-Langston was raised along the winding current of the Mississippi
River on a steady diet of dog-eared books. She attended a Creative and
Performing Arts School from middle school until graduation and went on to
study Literature at Webster University. Her novels have won the
Parents’ Choice Gold, Moonbeam Book Award, Independent Press Award,
Benjamin Franklin Book Award and NYC Big Book Awards. A three-time Pushcart
award nominee and Finalist in the Brighthorse Book Prize, William Faulkner
Fiction Contest, George Garrett Fiction Prize and Thomas Wolfe Fiction
Award, her work has been published in The Literary Review, Emerson Review,
The Merrimack Review, Emrys Journal, The MacGuffin, Sand Hill Review and
dozens of other literary journals.

Hailed as “an author with a genuine flair for originality” by
Midwest Book Review and “a loveable, engaging, original
voice…” by Publishers Weekly, you can find her in the wilds of
South Carolina plucking stories out of thin air.

Contact Links

Website

Twitter @LisAnnaLangston

Goodreads

Instagram

 

Preorder Links

Universal

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Kobo

iBooks

Smashwords

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

Comments Off on Wild Asses of the Mojave Desert Teaser

Filed under BOOKS