Author bio: Haley Despard (HD) was born and raised in small, yet ever-expanding Simpsonville, South Carolina. She discovered a love of writing at age fourteen and hasn’t been able to turn off the motor fingers since then. Today she lives just a stone’s throw over in the country side of Greer, SC with her husband, son, and Boston Terrier. Her hobbies include amateur photography, designing teaser graphics for her novels, and composing piano music.
Haley’s current project is a YA Contemporary Fiction series, but she also loves writing fantasy, romance, and occasionally horror fiction. Defying standards and norms and thinking outside the box is Haley’s strong suit, and she plans to write something that makes it big someday. Until then, she’s content with her growing author family and a head full of ideas.
Connect with her at the links below and don’t hesitate to contact her at email@example.com. Haley loves interacting with readers and other authors.
Book title: Diary of a Rocker’s Kid (D.O.R.K. Series Book One)
Genre: YA Contemporary
Title: First Blog Post
I tap my finger on the side of the laptop and glance out the open window for inspiration. The rolling green hills give off a ripple effect in the breeze as our horses graze peacefully inside the wooden fence. Usually this view is inspiring to me, but right now I’m annoyed that I’m sitting on my bed doing homework while my best friend is off in Florida on spring break.
Nana’s sharp rap comes at my bedroom door. She croaks through it, “You workin’ on that assignment I gave you?”
I groan. “Yes, Nana.”
“Good. Take your time on it. Give my tired old ears a rest.” I hear her rushed footsteps pounding down the hall.
Looks like Nana wants me to start expressing my feelings some other way than shredding on guitar. I’m supposed to be creating a diary for English, so I decided to make a private—for my eyes only—blog. I called it “Diary of a Rocker Chick.” Keeping a diary is something I wouldn’t normally do. I’m not obsessed with my feelings, and I honestly think diaries are kind of cheesy, but I can’t go outside until I finish this, so I guess I’d better get on it.
Well…here goes nothing…
First Blog Post
Hi, Me. I guess that’s who I’m supposed to be talking to here.
What to write…what to write…feelings. I’m supposed to be writing about feelings. Bleh.
As usual, I’m stuck-y in Kentucky while Ana’s on spring break like a normal person. Her parents didn’t invite me to join them because, in their words, I’m a “bad influence” on Ana. Being labeled like that by your best friend’s parents really sucks, especially when there’s no reason for it. I’ve never had a drop of alcohol, I don’t know how to roll a joint, and I’m still a virgin, so there’s no way they could label me as a whore. I can’t figure out why they think I’m a bad influence. I guess it’s because I want to be a rock star someday.
I glance over at my Gibson and smile. That kickass instrument is my soul. If I needed inspiration for writing, I think I just found it.
The three of us take a long ride out to a giant oak tree, which we love to sit under in the spring. We all tie our horses to it and Dad lays out a blanket for us to sit on. After chatting for a while about the farm, Dad and Cass get into the business end of it, and I completely tune them out. I couldn’t care less about what it costs to run a farm. All I care about is riding the horses.
My other senses come alive as I’m lying down on the blanket waiting for them to move on to another subject. The grass is starting to green up, and the smell of fresh new life—and manure—wafts up all around us. Birds chirp above us in the tree, and I smile at the sight of a couple of tree swallows nesting. I’d love to climb this tree and spy on them, but Dad always says it’s rude to climb the tree while I’m supposed to be hanging out with someone on the ground. It’s a shame…those limbs up there are really tempting.
My ears start operating again when Cass says, “Well, if you ever run out of money, you know you’ve got hundreds of valuables at the mansion you could sell.”
“You’ve got valuables in a mansion?” I ask, and then I notice both of their faces have turned ashen.
“Oh…my…God…” Cass clamps her hand over her mouth. Her eyeballs are bulging out of their sockets. Clearly, she just said something she wasn’t supposed to say. “Mike, I am so sorry—”
“Seventeen years, and you choose now to slip up,” Dad growls, glaring daggers at her. His nostrils start to flare like Maggie’s when she’s just run an obstacle course, which only happens when he’s mad as hell.
“What’s going on?” I ask, utterly confused. They’ve been hiding the fact that Dad has valuables in a mansion for seventeen years?
“I’ve got some things in storage in California…it’s really not a big deal,” Dad says.
“How did you get them in the first place?” I ask, realizing there’s a big chunk of Dad’s past I know absolutely nothing about. I’ve always wondered how he met Cass, and now I’m finding out he has hundreds of valuables sitting in a mansion in California. Something tells me there’s a connection here. “Are you rich or something?”
“I am so sorry,” Cass whispers to Dad again, and with one look between them, she knows it’s time to leave us alone. Cass stands and unties Jackie, mounts her in two expert movements, and urges her to a gallop in the direction of the stables.
My voice rises two octaves in my excitement. “You are rich, aren’t you?”
Dad lets a long exhale seep into his palms, clenching his eyes shut and shaking his head. “I don’t know how I’m gonna keep this from you now.” He takes a good, long look at me, and then he stands up, helps me up from the blanket, and nods in the direction of our horses. “Come on, baby girl, I…I need to show you somethin’.”
We drop the horses off at the stables, and Cass takes them from us without a word and ushers them back into their stalls. Dad leads me inside to our main desktop computer, pulls two chairs up to it, and goes to YouTube in a web browser.
“Why are we watching YouTube videos right now?” I ask with a nervous chuckle.
“You’ll see.” Dad searches “W3 documentary” and chooses one of the results on the first page. Before he plays the video, he pauses it and turns to me. “Sweetheart…I’m about to show you somethin’ I’ve been keepin’ from you for a long time. I figured I’d tell you this when you turned eighteen, but I guess seventeen and a half is close enough. The truth is, I do have a lot of money and valuables, but that’s not the whole story. I’m…I’m not really who you think I am.”
My eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “What?”
“Just listen. Before we watch this, I need you to know I kept this from you for a reason. You may not understand at first, but just know that I love you, and I would never purposely hurt you. You’re not gonna be happy about this, and I’m not expectin’ you to forgive me right away, but just…promise me you’ll forgive me. You know…eventually.”
“Um…I promise,” I stutter, and Dad clicks the “play” icon on the video.
Official Website: http://haleydespard.wix.com/author-haley-despard