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Faded Denim Excerpt: What it takes to be a superhero

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An excerpt from chapter five of my new adult fantasy romance, Superheroes Wear Faded Denim. One of my main characters, Don Shimada, contemplates the sacrifices he’ll have to make to become a superhero.

Everything was going to change now that the fate of mankind was sitting on his shoulders.

Even after he gulped down his drug shots of caffeine, he couldn’t keep his mind off Santiago. He tried to feed his hunger by googling summer tourist spots, Spanish recipes, earthquakes, but it wasn’t enough. Finally he typed in Chile. Everything that came up was about Santiago. Clicking on the link he read, “Feb. 27 an 8.8 magnitude Earthquake occurred 3:34 a.m. local time . . . Over 340 people have been killed, authorities are still searching . . . not much is left of a beautiful city known for its cherished, historical architecture.” It was nothing more than a dry summary that did not do any real justice for the travesty.

Stunned, he didn’t move, not even to breathe. It had all been true. Everything was going to change now that the fate of mankind was sitting on his shoulders. He could wash away his dreams of being a normal frat boy on his way to law school with drain cleaner. Focusing his energy on training for war, he knew where his life would go and what he’d become.

He rubbed his temples with clammy hands. He’d become that stoic little boy he was when traveling the world with his mother.

He used to spend all of his free time dreaming of taking the women he helped to a place where they would no longer need a one room shack for medical care. Being a nurse and health advisor for women in third world countries called for efficacy not a social sphere. His mother and a motley crew of traveling martial artists set up portable hospitals wherever they traveled. Most of the time they were small, one bedroom apartments with no air conditioning or running water. Their waiting rooms were the dusty streets where the crew taught the women and children basic defense. Like the perfect aid, he did whatever his mother commanded him to do.

Afterwards, Don remembered never wanting to practice with other children. His nights would be spent alone, swinging a saif until he collapsed. Later the crew would always find him in the dusty streets staring at the moon. They’d coax him into a circle. After a few jokes, they’d shove him in the middle of Capoeira. A rhythmic dance and hand clapping would ensue. He’d back flip in the air dodging playful blows to his head. They would always let him win.

He cherished those few moments, but good memories were few and far between. Most of his life was filled with angst and—“I don’t want to relive it,” he said aloud. “Not on anybody else’s terms.” If he was going to be forced to save anybody it would be in a business suit in a court room.

He went back to the blinking cursor just waiting for him to write the first sentence to his thesis. It didn’t have to be anything magical. He just needed to start.

‘Sex trafficking is a modern day form of slavery.’ He felt powerful. One sentence down, a thousand more to go. All truths set aside, these were strenuous circumstances. Bull spitting was going to have to do.

“Don,” he heard from out of nowhere. Gabriel’s voice was inside his head, right next to his thoughts.

He kept on typing, ignoring it. ‘It is man’s indirect way of keeping women from obtaining equality with—’

“Don, head to the black streets of campus.”

‘Women.’ Typo. He erased women. ‘Men.’

“You are the Paladin. We await you.”

He wasn’t sure what to type after that. He could elaborate on popular perceptions that deemed women inferior. ‘They are objectified,’ he typed.

“The battle between evil and good wages on. Paladin, head to the black streets of campus. There you will meet the King and Queen of the Low Court. They will aid you and Blissany Cherry, the Key, in this war.” The walls blurred into a vision of a girl with sun kissed skin and copper hued curls dragging herself to bed. Seconds later he was sitting in his car, staring past the glare of his headlights at a girl with her arms stretched out. Wolves flooded streets behind her, transitioning into human form as they paced the black pavements.

Startled, Don burst from his seat, knocking over his coffee. “This is never going to end,” he yelled as his chair toppled to the floor.


He slammed his laptop shut. He wasn’t putting up with this anymore. He was heading to the black streets of campus, wherever the hell that was, and find Gabriel to demand he stop messing with his head.

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4/5 by blogger of Books, Books, and More Books

“While not my usual fare, this book was definitely worth reading. “


This book is very surrealistic.  It requires an ability to put aside the “normal” view of the world and accept the world of the book to fully grasp the concepts and ideas of the book.  It would drive my husband crazy, but I enjoyed it for the most part.  At times I was lost and confused, but those were rare.
The plot was so intense, dark, and gritty with hints of humor, romance and a fabulous subplot to boot.  The characters were unique yet very believable and realistic.  The characters evolve from “normal” to superhero and try to do the right thing.  It was interesting to watch the dynamics unfold.
While not my usual fare, this book was definitely worth reading.  I enjoyed the author taking on issues not generally dealt with in literature.  I give this book 4 out of 5 clouds.

New adult fantasy romance Faded Denim excerpt: Master of the Facade

An excerpt from chapter three of my new adult fantasy romance, Superheroes Wear Faded Denim. One of my main characters, Don Shimada, is getting his first taste of insanity.

“A million dollar grin could not stop his mind from going places he didn’t want to go.”

Don’s face became as blank as the screen behind him. The conversation with Cassandra was edged in his mind as if he had written it down. Fear kept him from standing. He could just imagine his true self coming out. He’d become laconic, a side of him he’d rather not show.

“Actually,” Cassandra approached the podium with her Versace accessories in tow. “I’ll take it from here.”

Thankful to Cassandra, Don relaxed in his seat.

“I love the idea of doing this joint week.” She began her speech in true corporate fashion. “This week is about bringing women’s issues to light. Without you beautiful men, it would not be possible to host a week of events focused on love, appreciation, and respect for women.”

Cheers rose from the crowd as the lights dimmed. Don noticed a portal opening between the fourth and fifth row of chairs. It was a luminous grey space. He blinked. The portal was gone. He took a deep breath. I can control this.

“Sunday of course I’m excited because praise is what I do for all who don’t know. Instead of holding church at Bethel of the Lamb, we’ve decided . . .” Cassandra’s words faded into a distant hum.

A grey haze covered the entire room in a thin veil causing everyone it touched to stop moving. Helplessly, Don watched the vestiges of the room morph into a tall, curving archway. The homely navy carpet became marble tiles. Soon four winged men swept through the archways bringing in gusts of cold wind. Rococo robes adorned their towering frames. The darkest of them all commanded Don’s attention. He was a warrior angel smelling of soot and grime. His dreads fell down his back, the tips wound in gold.

I’m becoming like my mother. He had only known madness through her. Her madness defied all logic: there were no hallucinations or anything dramatic. A master of her feelings, she seemed to fool everyone, even the doctors. The media lionized her as the real life superwoman. Open a magazine and there she would be wearing her scarves and artsy dresses, never any spandex. She always made sure to include in every interview this quote from her autobiography: ‘I couldn’t just sit around queen of a conglomerate knowing that there were women suffering around the world.’

Every time he read that quote, he got sick. His mother would never let the truth slip; her past caused her to flee. Packing everything but her sanity, she ran from the safety of her husband’s mansion to some of the most desolate places in the world. To this day, he could not get his father to explain why he funded her crazy expeditions, or why he allowed her to take his only son. Don survived twelve years of his mom’s madness. At eighteen, he ran far and fast, vowing to never lose his sanity. Now here he was, another insane Shimada.

On the outside he looked like the next cover model for a Nightlife campaign. He smelled of ocean beaches. Yet a million dollar grin could not stop his mind from going places he didn’t want to go. Just like his mother, a master of the façade, he was going to work damn hard to make sure no one was the wiser.

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Superheroes Wear Faded Denim Review

“The author has wonderful command of language”

Superheroes Wear Faded Denim is a bright well-written paranormal novel. The characters are lively and engaging. Caught in amazing circumstances, they are believable and real. The author has wonderful command of language and writes with a fresh voice as she describes the characters’ journeys from everyday university students to heroes intent on saving the world.

Though the circumstances of the plot are often dire, there are moments of comic relief, especially as the major characters try to balance their university experience with their global responsibilities. To complicate matters more, the students must also deal with a variety of non-human characters with their own agendas.

It is a great read. I look forward to more books from this talented author.

– Sharon Drane

Faded Denim Excerpt: a day of death and shopping


Excerpt from Chapter one: Vendetta

Blissany’s heart skipped a beat. He was referring to her dreams. Am I in another? She could very well be. It wasn’t like her dreams gave her any warning. Coming sporadically, they were plane rides into other realms. Sometimes they caused her to sleep for a couple hours, sometimes several days. There a Roman boy with verdant eyes and curly hair black as fresh paint lived. Named Gabriel, he told her she was created to fight a grandiose war between good and evil. She ignored her dreams even though they caused her to oversleep for classes. What a mistake that had been. As soon as she awoke from this nightmare, she was seeking a neurologist. Such an endeavor took a lot of money and time. As a college senior, those were two things she didn’t have. Yet she was going to find it. She could not continue living with this mental disease.

“You don’t want to do this,” Wanikiya said. “If you did you wouldn’t have waited till the curse ate your heart.”

“I’ve contemplated my choices. I know what I’m to do.” Temeluchus asked Blissany the question again. “Will you fight or not?”

“I don’t believe—”

“Wait until you have all the information, Fairest. You have two choices. If you say yes, even though you’ve shown selflessness, you have waged war. War means a fight to the death, and I will slay you right here. If you say no, I will slay this clerk behind the jewelry counter. So the question really becomes lucid. Who do you want to live more, yourself or others?”

“This demeans you,” Wanikiya said.

“Answer the question, Fair Cherry,” Temeluchus said, ignoring Wanikiya.

Blissany’s lips trembled. She looked at Kristie frozen in time. Out of all the dreams I could have. Kristie’s mouth was slightly agape. Her eyes still wide with excitement. They matched the emerald towel she held in her hands. She was so young she only had a few smile wrinkles around the corners of her mouth. Blissany wanted Kristie to live just as much as she wanted to live, but she knew this was all a dream. For it to end, she would have to give an answer.

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