Posted in #books, Author Shan R.K

My New Years Confession

Hello everyone and a Happy New Year to all of you. It has been a while since I last blogged about anything really. The truth is, I have wrote, and deleted at least a thousand words explaining to why this is the case. Truth? I didn’t know how to tell almost three thousand people why I have been slacking (I use the word slacking with great emphasis) with all major parts in my life. I do not believe in the thrill or joy a New Year brings, but I do believe in taking a new turn in life, changing your path. I believe that when you hit your rock bottom you have to admit your faults and your discrepancies to yourself first. Then you have to apologize to everyone else. So without further a due. Let me try this again . I AM SORRY FOR MY LACK OF PROFESSIONALISM. I AM SORRY FOR NOT DELIVERING THE STUFF I INTENDED TO DELIVER. I APOLOGIZE FOR LETTING MY PERSONAL ISSUES GET IN THE WAY OF MY DREAM AND THIS VISION WE WERE CREATING TOGETHER. I AM MOST IMPORTANTLY SORRY FOR LETTING YOU DOWN. I have no excuses and I am not going to make any. I started writing four years ago and on March 25th I will be a Self Published Author for three of those years. Writing is everything to me, which to many reading this sounds sad but it is not sad to me. I fell a long time ago, my life has never been a normal one (lightly speaking). I had a lot of challenges like many of you. But I blocked it out because I didn’t want my past, or where I came from to define me. I want to define myself. People like to believe that your past plays a role in your life, and it does to an extent. That extent is your choosing. I have seen people that come from the worst places you can imagine filled with drugs and prostitution, who made choices that were hard, and difficult so that they don’t amount to what society thinks. It amazed me then and still amazes me now. It gives the world hope for change if you just open your eyes and see. Stop just looking, start taking it all in. Understand, learn, and become who you are meant to be. I was still realizing these things, learning so much, and I got lost along my path of discovery. Not many of you know this, but my ex husband was the one who got me to sit down on his desk chair and put the laptop in front of me. He said write, just write your stories down. (He is definitely reading this and smiling) Coming from a surgeon I was shocked, but for all his faults he is a wise man so I DID. And with writing books and losing myself in words I became whole for those moments. I started to reevaluate my life, teaching myself something I didn’t know I could even do. I used to write from three in the morning ’till ten or eleven at night. I was writing a story about demons and angels, Lightwatchers and Asgaurdians, but I was also living in that world. For those hours I was a girl with the world counting on her to defeat Hell. What I didn’t realize is subconsciously I was learning to breathe. I was finding me. The battle was really with myself, my own demons, my own sins, and mistakes all tumbled up into a kick ass story. My book flunked when I finally published it (In case you wondering), but I made a box of copies and handed it out to a few people. They said it was brilliant and that was good enough for me, because you see, writing a story to me, is not for the praise, or the glory or fame. Writing to me is telling you a story, is opening myself up to you, the reader. I am sharing all those hours I put into that book with you. It is an invitation to a whole new world. I am screaming in my words, yelling at you, calling you to just read me. Whether you enjoyed the book it is up to you, the reader. I am the one who wrote it, so of course I loved it, for every word written and every scene played is all in my mind and now on paper. I like to think of it as this- My books are from my brain, so when you review me, you should ask yourself did you like my brain. (it sounds stupid, but it is something to mule over) So after that book, House of Legions, I decided to write another book. This one many of you know, it is called Beggar, obviously the book sold A LOT of copies and it set off a chain of events- the blog, website, my first failed attempt on facebook. I also grew as a person, started looking at the world through other peoples eyes. Trying to understand characters, what makes up a persons persona. I read a lot, traveled, got divorced. Then I lost it all and at the time I felt low, lonely and I was just writing really dark stuff. Sometimes my hands would start to shake so I did what any author should not. I became a ghost writer, started writing scenes under another name. I joined one of the researching companies, did some research, then joined a publishing magazine. I started handing in my poetry, also under a different name (they published seven of them, crazy right?). I started posting poetry on Instagram, then published my own poetry book, (that flunked badly) I didn’t care that it did. But while doing all of this, I slowly started to discover someone I never knew (myself). Years ago I was a simple woman who never had the desire to have friends, who didn’t see the importance of family besides my little girl. It took me the year of 2018 to discover that I am human. I feel emotion, I like having friends and I love my family. I connected with people, some in my life for a seasonal smile, others in my life for a reason to smile. I learned a lot in 2018, I even learned the stress of being a single mother with no job and a kid who still smiles when you say no. And that people might be nice to you, but they are not always your friends. I learned that we meet people in our lives for different reasons, not all of them are good ones. I experienced tears of joy. The heaviness of great loss. An untold agony of hurt. To many of you, this is your life, it is life. Trials and errors. For me, I feel that I have only started paving my own life. From a sheltered girl in a small town to the woman I am today I am proud of who I am. Everyday it gets easier to understand the one who stares back at me from my bathroom mirror. I am no more lost because I have found my place and writing stories, sharing words with all of you is part of that place I call home. So I want to start again. My name is Shan R.K and I am an Author and blogger. I have a beautiful and intelligent daughter that talks at least 3000 words an hour on a quiet day. I am a reading addict, so much so that I have mastered the art of cooking and reading to the T. I have never been on a live podcast or video because I always chicken out. I am convinced I have a bad voice. My mother is crazy, who loves to control everybody ( at least she tries) that I love. My dad is scary on most days but he can crack a joke better than most comedians and dance worst than a chicken with no legs. (Sorry dad) I hate cooking, but I am really good at it, especially 20 minute meals, which I tend to do a lot of. Most of the time the stuff that comes out of my mouth is mostly book related. I have a dog that lives with my ex husband. His name is Falcor (yes, like never ending story), he is born on April 9th just like me. I have a secret desire to be a vigilante and save the world (I am keeping that one for the books). I am a terrible driver. I have written my learners like four times and still no licence (sucks a lot at times, nay for me, and yay for Uber). Most nights I have insomnia so I tend to write a lot of stuff that I will never publish because you guys would think I am seriously a nutjob. But sometimes my mind just comes up with these crazy stories and I have to put it down to paper. My favorite color is red on most days except when I am hormonal, then it is black because it is all I want to wear. No matter how hot it is I still sleep with a blanket. I have this crazy idea in my head that if I don’t I will get old quickly, (I said Crazy) And from right now, I promise to fulfill my promise to all of you and give you guys the best books you have ever read and continue my blog with the Liston Hills Series. This year 2019 I am going to take my life lessons, and break my own record. I feel it is going to be a fulfilling year. I am going to go live soon on Instagram and overcome my fear of ‘live’ social media. It is going to be an eye opener for me and the ones who watch. We are going to need a lot of coffee once I start that.

Thank you guys for reading this. I think this is the most I have ever spoken about myself in one sitting but I believe time is wasting so it is best to just put it all out there. Move on. Forward.

Tomorrow I will post the release dates of the books and start prepping for Liston Hills which will be returning February 4th. Poster and trailers will be going up soon.

What I want to do is open comments on the blog and really bring you all together. So let me know what you guys think and if you have any suggestions please do let me know. I love people with a voice.

Posted in Uncategorized

The story of Kylie Bray

Writing Kylie Bray

A few years back I started Kylie Bray. It was just a basic story about a girl in love with her billionaire brother.

The story was bland and I quickly got bored of it and continued to write the sequel to House of Legions.

After I published Beggar I started the blog of Liston Hills (school me) and I needed more characters. Then came in Kylie Bray and her siblings.

Once I brought her in, my obsession for the familia came to play then one thing led to another and before I even understood it myself I was writing three different series that all linked to each other because of one girl ‘Kylie Bray’. Her story kept bugging me, and I wrote it up in stages. On and off until I completed it a month back.

She is and will always be a character I can relate too as well as many women and men who have experienced unrequited love.

Below is a small piece of Kylie Bray 😊😁

People look at me and see a monster. They look at me and see a killer but no body knows I am so much worse.

I was once Kylie Bray , billionaire heiress, a Southern belle until Mafia boss Vincent Stone walked back into my life.

He was my obsession, I was addicted to his darkness and instead of nurturing it , he used it as the worst form of torture.

I knew Vincent was a bad person , but I never knew how bad he really was until I was already too deep, lost to the maze of obsession.

I couldn’t find my way out no matter how hard I tried.

He tainted me, marked me as his knowing that he would never be mine.

You see , Vincent Stone wasn’t just my stepbrother. He was a made man and I was his muse

Available on Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Kylie-Bray-Made-Stone-heart-ebook/dp/B079HV95VW

Posted in Liston hills

School me p3 (page 21)

Reagan




Rage is said to come in blindfolded in a moment when one loses their ability to logic. As Sabastian stands in front of me, hands in his pocket I feel the rage, I feel my logic and sense of control slip.
My eyes must narrow, my body lunges forward as my fist meets his face. The pain is a welcoming agony as it shoot up my hand to my wrist. Sabastian doesn’t go down from my glorified punch, he retaliates with a fist to my gut, knocking the wind out of me, as I mimic his motion, and knee him in his stomach. He hunches and coughs and I go for a upper cut to his chin which he ducks and punches me solid in my sternum.

I tackle him to the floor and we are both going at it. Fist after fist, the copper taste in my mouth, swelling on my jaw, thumping in my head is a mind pleaser as Sabastian goes down and lays on the floor staring up at the sky, I follow suit. We are both quiet. Our rage not lessened by our fists but caged by our mind. 
Neither of us can say anything, the truth is out there now, it is part of us. When I see Dainy tomorrow it will be a constant roar in my mind. Sabastian Delroy, a close friend is in love with my girl, he considers her his. And even I can’t deny that the thought of him being right isn’t crushing me, it isn’t masking my love in dread. Dainy was his. 
“Out of all the shit we have gotten through, a girl is what it comes down to.” Sabastian groans after he says this. 

The sky is dark, the faint noise of music and peoples voices drift through the air, “I love her too.” I tell him, and though I have never admitted the words to Dainy or hinted at it , I am honest when I admit it to him.
“Yeah, I know.” We both quieten, laying there on the hard ground where we once shared an easy laugh and an even easier silence. Now, what were we. 

Comments and suggestions can be sent to shanaazk47@gmail.com