So today I thought I'd let you all in on a surprise: I'm releasing the cover of Ouroboros today!!!
Not only is the cover and synopsis being revealed, but the pre-order is going live in a few days so I'll post that when its available.
If you pre-order and comment on here or my Facebook page (Author V.L. King), with your proof of purchase, you'll be entered into my giveaway to win a signed copy of Do You Remember? (Open internationally).
Also, I'd like to share with you the exclusive first chapter of Ouroboros with you.
I hope you enjoy,
Much ♡, V.L. XXX
Dreams for most girls consist of a handsome Prince, an all consuming love, children and a long and happy life. But for me, the concept of love was never a dream...it was a nightmare.
Stripped of innocence and left to witness an askew approach to adult relationships, the 13 year old rides on an ouroboros to oblivion whilst challenging abusive relationships and mental illness.
I'm V.L. King, mother of two, self published author of Impulses, The Dark Evoke Series and Do You Remember? and this is my story...
“Okay ladies, calm it down. I have handouts for you all so if you could just take one and pass the rest on please.”
A ten week course Nicola said; a ten week course did nothing to help my anxiety. I didn’t get on with people at the best of times, let alone having to be in the same room with them for weeks on end. But I would soon find myself rubbing shoulders with the dwindling members as the weeks went on, she added; not everyone finishes these things anyway.
“They are very important and hold information that can go in your tool kits for your red flags,” the middle-aged woman told us. Taking possession of the cool, flimsy parchment, I scanned around my surroundings. The numbers did dwindle, but not enough for my liking.
What began as thirteen at the pre-meeting morning, or the coffee morning as they like to call it, was now a group of eight at week five. I idly wondered who would be next to leave when two of the women giggled at the back of the room, and I briefly felt a surge of de ja vu from my school days returning.
“...Will acknowledge that her husband has worked a hard day and will be tired, but will always remain ‘ready’ for him, should he so wish...” Zara spluttered her coffee, shaking her head gaping.
“Vicki, can you read the opposite side please?”
Yes, I could, but I didn’t want to. My outlook on relationships weren’t the norm. I was suddenly very conscious of the warm, heavy metal band encompassing my ring finger. Rubbing it with my thumb pad, I sighed under my breath and an ill stifled groan of reluctance left my throat; that’s one of the reasons I ended up on this damn course in the first place.
“He understands that she is her own person, and there will be times when she isn’t in the mood for sex. This is a natural feeling at times, and he understands and doesn’t make her feel guilt, shame, or shout.”
I was studying the bullet points on the sheet ahead of me when Marnie rasped, “Where can I find a man like that?” and the white wash room, filled with anti-abuse posters erupted into chuckles that all secretly pondered the same thing.
“Vicki,” the organiser summoned me back to the room from my private musing.
“Which one would you say was correct: the lover, or the 1940’s good wife guide?” she stood at the front of the room, a marker resting in her hands, waiting patiently for my response.
“Well, he is your husband.” My musing wavered to the man who I had spent the last ten years of my life loving, even before I knew what love was. “ It is your job to make him happy.” Happy...that was a dream word for me and had been for quite sometime. I don’t think even he remembered what happiness was, yet I was the one sitting in the room full of women who I was told were all in the same boat as myself. “He deserves it after all...”
Sighing, her focus shifted from me down to her shoes, “And that, sweetheart, is why you’re on this course. Say after me ladies, ‘The freedom project will give me my freedom back.’”
The ladies who I shared the last five Thursday mornings with all repeated in unison, I couldn’t. I couldn’t because in that god forsaken moment I felt totally defeated. I felt like I was in this world where everybody was crazy and all I wanted to do was show one person, the person who chose me to share his life with, how much he meant to me, how much I was grateful for him to take me on, almost as a pet project of his own.
And here I sat, in Women’s Aid being told that my morals and beliefs were utterly wrong.
I felt lost.
I felt lonely.
I felt provoked.
The hour came and went in a blur. Autopilot was in place as I took handout after handout, and listened distantly to the middle-aged woman who was supposed to be helping us. Well, she may have been helping some of the ladies in the project, but I felt like a lone wolf, a lone wolf who was destined to keep getting everything wrong.
“Okay, ladies. Next week is going to be a difficult session okay, so please make sure you attend. We will be doing a small meditation both before the session and after the session because of it okay.”
My coat was being shrugged on and the last sip of coffee was being drained when Nicola called my name.
I peeked up timidly from over the rim of the mug.
“I need to have a chat with you when the others leave so if you can hold back please?”
Damn! Shaking my head infinitesimally, I chided myself. It’s like getting scolded by the teacher at school.
When the last person filed out the doorway, Nicola came to sit on the table next to me. Tucking her blonde hair behind her ear, she muttered, “Vick, I wanted to give you the heads up about next week...”
Dubiously, my head shook and lips pursed.
The blonde woman let out a weighty sigh then continued, while knotting her fingers in her lap. “Week six focuses on The Sexual Controller. I know you still haven’t...I know that you...
The rain began to fall as a light mist beyond the window. Enraptured, I stared into it, “Don’t,” I husked, then pulled my attention to her form, “Don’t say it.”
“Do you want me to book a counselling session at your house before next Thursday so we can maybe prepare you for it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
I could see the apology brimming in her blue eyes, and in that split second, I already knew the answer which hung in the stifling air between us. When she shook her head, she lifted her hand to gently caress my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Vick. But it’ll all be worth it. I promise.”