Melissa Yi cursed blessed my author with the soul sucking chore chance to tell you about myself in the recent steaming pile of crap book I’m in. It’s part of a hellish wonderful blog chain really designed to pump the original creator in a continuing show that pyramid schemes are alive and well.

Not that I’m bitter. Just don’t ask me to dump ice over my head. I ... will ... shoot ... you.

Here's a good example of my current state of mind:


So I’m Christine. :) But call me Kurzow or Colonel if you have to. I also respond to ma’am and sir. I’ve reluctantly left my death bed in Iraq, fleeing the suicide I so richly deserve, to seek redemption in New York City. NYC houses a group that even I have trouble believing exists.

The Terminals.







The last line of this, it's their motto--sounds better in Latin:


I’m a terminal. I’m suicidal and rightly so, the only way I can atone for the deaths of eleven of the men and women under my command is to slit my wrists. Lucky for me (not for my soldiers) eleven kids have gone missing and I have a chance to find them before ending my life. That’s my real goal. Redemption and then departing this mortal plane.

Except Terminals don't always head to the nicest of places:


Oh, it’s a series, so yeah, I live. But I sure have to put people through hell to save not just the lives of the kids but my own.

Want more? Buy the damn book.

Better yet, buy Melissa’s it’s better.

And you can read her stuff for free and win $5,000, so what are you waiting for?