Haunted Garden: How to Host a KILLER Zombie Prom Party

7 Tips to Host a KILLER Zombie Prom Party...on the Cheap!

I love my genre. Paranormal (and the romance, too) is just the coolest one to write, because it gives authors like me the excuse to...
Throw a Zombie Prom Halloween party!

Like I need an excuse.

Here are 7 Tips to Host a Killer ZOMBIE PROM PARTY on the cheap. Check out more photo/ideas from our Zombie Prom Halloween Party on my Pinterest page here: http://www.pinterest.com/dylannewton1/.

Invitations--We made our own and splattered blood (scrapbook spray ink) on the outside of the envelopes. Here is a scanned picture of mine, with the address, etc. deleted.

Costumes--We invite tons of kids and adults to our parties...but they ALL must come dressed. In fact, our invite envelope said "If you're not dressed as a zombie...you are FOOD." Scour the thrift stores for cheap, gaudy, horrible dresses and suits (remember ugly is better!), or be creative and be the zombie janitor (like my hubby--picture below) or the zombie football coach, etc.) then take a pair of scissors, some craft paint and fake blood, and go nuts! Hit the Halloween stores for make-up, dripping wounds, eyes, etc. to complete your look.

Prom Pictures--No prom is complete without awkward prom pictures, so be sure to create a backdrop like we did for our Newton H.S. Zombie Prom last year. The backdrop is some scrap wood that we painted white, then we spray painted a 'Zombie Prom' in runny, red paint, with 'Brains' on the other side. To add extra Zombie ambiance, we put a dead prom queen in the tree behind the backdrop, hanging her limp, lifeless (and completely fabricated) body over the top of the backdrop.
Food--Go for the gore factor. Everything had to be what a zombie would crave, so we had the 'Flayed Skin-Head' ham and cheese dip and the 'Bloodshot Eyeballs' deviled eggs. (This website has some great ideas: http://www.toppartyideas.com/gory-foods/)

Decorations--Create a ghoulish cemetery, complete with some of the graves partially dug up (with a mound of dirt and a shovel sticking out) to hint at the zombie origins. To create simple gravestones, simply use old boards (painted white, with black for the inscription), cardboard boxes faux painted to look like large tombstones (see mine on Pinterest here: http://www.pinterest.com/dylannewton1/) or Styrofoam pieces cut in shapes. We used the pieces that came from packaging material to make ours. TIP: If you use spraypaint on Styrofoam, it almost curdles the foam, creating an instant "aged" look to your tombstone.

Games--We had a "Thriller" dance contest, a contest for the best costume (and at OUR party, you aren't allowed in if you're NOT in costume. Even our 75+ neighbors came dressed in full Zombie regalia!), and also had a Zombie Total Blackout, where each participant was led into our tricked out garage to stick their hands into various tubs of disgusting stuff they had to identify...blindfolded.

Prizes and Favors--No prom is complete without a King and Queen, so be sure to Zombi-fy your prizes. I got old bowling trophies and dance trophies from our area thrift shops, spray painted them black and handed them out to our Zombie Prom Queen and King. All of the guests walked out with a Zombie party favor bag full of zombie-themed candy.

We had a blast at our Zombie Prom last year...looking forward to this year's theme: Witch and Werewolf (to celebrate the release of my novels ANY WITCH WAY, and DESPITE THE FANGS!).

Here's to a spook-tacular Halloween!

Dylan Newton
P.S. Want to jumpstart your Halloween fun? How about a great paranormal read? Check out Dylan Newton's books about psychics, witches or werewolves on Amazon here: http://www.amazon.com/Dylan-Newton/e/B00B4FE2CC

P.P.S. Want to see more pictures from our Zombie Prom? Check out my Pinterest page here: http://www.pinterest.com/dylannewton1/. Enjoy!

Haunted Garden: Halloween Monsters: Werewolves & Shapeshifters

Happy Halloween Season! October is possibly my favorite month of the year, and Halloween has a great deal to do with that. This year, I thought it would be fun to do a little fact finding about the traditional Halloween monsters (werewolves, vampires, and Frankenstein) and their evolution in folklore and literature.

Since my upcoming release - Andromeda's Fall - (release date TBD) involves mountain lion shifters, let's start with werewolves (and shifters in general).

As I researched this topic, I found it very interesting that--unlike vampires and Frankenstein--almost every culture around the world has some type of transformation or shape-shifting mythology (typically with animals indigenous to the area) that go back to antiquity.

In earlier history, shapeshifters were most commonly deities (gods or goddesses) with the magical ability to transform. In Japan they have Kitsune, a fox shifter who is typically benevolent but often a trickster. Korea and China have similar fox shapeshifter myths. In Africa, deities shift into lions or leopards. In South America they transform into jaguars. Some gods/goddesses in Greek, Roman, Norse, etc. mythology can pick their forms.

Another frequent myth seen for shifters in earlier history were humans who were transformed into something by a god or goddess as a punishment. In Greek mythology, Arachne was transformed into a spider. In Roman and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, King Lycaon was changed to a wolf by Jupiter (some attribute this as the beginning of werewolf mythology). But in these cases, the person shifted had no power to change back to human. This theme continued in later European folklore. The Frog Prince and Beauty and the Beast both involve transformation into animals as a punishment.

Enter the Middle Ages where the werewolf mythology became prevalent. Most of the people executed for being werewolves in this time period were later found by historians to be serial killers. The werewolf mythology closely follows witch folklore and persecution. In fact, shifters mythologies were not all that prevalent in North America until brought over by European colonists at the same time as they brought their fear of witches.

Based on what I could find, not a lot seemed to change about shapeshifter folklore for quite some time. Up to the 1940s (and even later) they were truly seen as monsters eliciting terror and revulsion. Early books and movies about werewolves have the happy ending being the death or defeat of the creature.

In my research, I couldn't find a specific trigger for the change in perception of shapeshifters and werewolves as monsters to the view of them today as sympathetic and even heroic. Even books written in the mid- to late-1900s still use a more classic example of shifters. For example, in C.S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia, Eustace is shifted into a dragon - but more as a learning moment or punishment, not at will.

I would argue that shapeshifters we see today are found in literature and movies only in the last 10-20 years. Unlike their earlier counterparts, these people/creatures are not deities (or not always), are not being punished, can change forms at will (or at least aren't permanently an animal), are powerful, are usually benevolent or good, and frequently have an entire sub-culture of like-shifters to support them or deal with in some way.

What a change from the monsters they originally were. Right?

I've found this topic so interesting to research, I'll have to dig more on the psychology behind this phenomenon. My guess is that, like vampires, we've romanticized werewolves and other shapeshifters, giving them more human qualities, behaviors, and values. Dissatisfied by our human frailty, we are intrigued by the thought of what additional power assuming such a form could provide.

It makes me wonder what the next 10, 20, 100 years have in store for these fascinating--and ancient--creatures.

http://www.abigailowen.com
Award-winning author, Abigail Owen was born in Greeley, Colorado, and raised in Austin, Texas. She now resides in Northern California with her husband and two adorable children who are the center of her universe. Abigail grew up consuming books and exploring the world through her writing. A fourth generation graduate of Texas A&M University, she attempted to find a practical career related to her favorite activity by earning a degree in English Rhetoric (Technical Writing). However, she swiftly discovered that writing without imagination is not nearly as fun as writing with it.

Haunted Garden:SAMHAIN IN SHERWOOD

SAMHAIN IN SHERWOOD

Copyright: Laura Strickland

Midnight approaches on the eve of Halloween—or Samhain, as the Old Ones called it—and the slender figure of a woman slips through the trees of Sherwood Forest. Flickers of moonlight and darkness, like the cloak she wears, conceal her simple nun’s habit, and her identity.
How many nights has she made this journey in her mind? Wishing, hoping, praying she might escape the restraints that tether her, and find her way back.

To him.

For there is and could ever be only one man who possesses her heart, and he is dead.

But on this night, this one, blessed sabbat on the wheel of the year, the door between the living and the dead stands open and passage may be made from this world to the next, and back. For this one night, she might hope to hold him again.

She bursts into a clearing amid the trees, an ancient place steeped in old magic, and beholds the figure awaiting her. Beneath the full moon, wrapped in tendrils of mist, he appears first a man, and then a stag standing upright, bearing a full rack of antlers. Without hesitation she throws herself at his feet.

“Please, my Lord, I beg thee grant me one wish. I have surely earned it in grief and pain, and loneliness.”

“Ask, child, for what you will.” His reply comes up through the soil, surges through the trees and dances in the air.

“Let me but be with him again this night.”

“Name the one you seek.”

“Robin.” She barely dares breathe the name.

And the god replies, “Arise, Marian.”

She comes to her feet eagerly, her heart nearly bursting, and hears a beloved voice call her, like an echo of the god. “Marian.”

Ah, and there he stands! Hale and strong and whole as he was before he fell, slaughtered by his Norman enemies—beautiful to her eyes. Every longing she has known these many years since his death finds answer as she stumbles forward into his arms.

“How long have we?” she asks, even as her lips reach for his. The spell of Samhain, as she knows, is fleeting and he might fade with the moonlight.

His only reply comes in silence as he draws her down onto a bed of moss and loves her full well.

“Do not go from me,” she begs then. “Too many nights have I lain in my bed at the nunnery, longing for you. I would not have this end.”

“Aye, Marian, and what would you give to be with me not just this one night, but always?”

She looks into his beloved face and replies, “Anything.”

He brushes his lips across hers, making her quiver with delight.

“Yet,” she says, “I understand the bargain Samhain offers: for but a few short hours on this night are the dead allowed back across the threshold. Is it not so?” He, who has dwelt in death so long, will know.

“Aye, love, it is so.”

“How long have we?” she asks again, her heart breaking.

And he says, “Before the cock crows I must turn back for the spirit world from whence I came. Only those likewise in spirit may come with me to the land on the other side.”

She wonders, then, whether she might have been better without this one night’s joy, for the grief of losing him all over again.

He asks her once more, “What would you give to come with me? Would you give your life?”

“If I could so choose.” But she knows she cannot. All these lonely years without him have not brought her that choice, nor all her prayers and longing.

But he leans close and whispers, “My love, you can.”

Her heart leaps. More than anything she wants to believe him. She plumbs the mysteries in his eyes and begs, “How? By renouncing the world? By sacrificing all else? Only tell me, Robin, and it is done.”

“Nothing so difficult.” He captures her face between his hands and studies her kindly. “Do you not wonder why you were able to find me this night, of all those Samhain nights since my death? Why the moonlight guided you, the god awaited you, and the portal stood open?”

“So it does stand, on Samhain Eve.”

“Aye, and for the dead more than for the living.” Very gently he says, “’Twas not in flesh you came to me this night, Marian. My love, your body lies still in your cell at the nunnery, where death found you not three hours ago.”

“Dead!” The terrible wonder of it suffuses her. For an instant, she misses her life as once she missed him: bright mornings kissed by a brisk wind, flowers and children’s laughter, and the smell of new bread baking. But without him her existence is but a long, terrible dream, for all her passion lies here with this man.

He lifts her fingers to his lips and his love wraps around her. “And so, Marian, will you bid farewell to the world and follow me?”

She gives him the last answer she ever will, her only answer. “Robin, my love, I never stopped following you.” And gladly, joyfully, she steps over the threshold with him, into eternity.


The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy: www.laurastricklandbooks.com

Click Here To Purchase The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy

Smell the flowers by Annalisa Russo

My son has traveling down to a science, allowing himself just enough time to show up at the gate as they’re boarding. Of course, he travels constantly for work. On the other hand, I like to get to the airport two hours early to catch a meal and settle in with a book near the gate. I imagine when you travel all the time, you stop looking at what’s around you. It would be easy to forget what it is to see something for the first time.

I have a recent addition to my family, a precious toddler named Luci. When you take Luci for a walk, she MUST stop and smell each flower in her path. She wrinkles up her nose and sniffs. She sees EVERYTHING—the wing on a bird, the small moving dot of an airplane in the sky, a dog with his nose poked out between the slats of his backyard fence. She hears sounds I habitually block out—the dishwasher starting, a garbage truck rumbling down the street, the yawn of her cat stretching in the sun by the door. Luci has taught me a lesson.

During the summer, I take an early morning walk each day. It’s more of a power walk than a stroll.
Aren’t we all conscious these days of the benefits of daily exercise? After my first post-Luci walk of the summer, I realized, like the constant traveler, I wasn’t conscious anymore of my surroundings. I habitually looked down at the ground and plotted my next scene in my head for whatever story I was writing.

So, on my next walk, I slowed down and made a point of looking around at my surroundings. I noticed a few items I missed on previous walks: a robin fat with new life, words in sidewalk chalk on a driveway— This is how we roll— with a peace sign, a POW flag flying on a pole beneath an American flag. I passed that same house every day for years.
A lone tulip that survived our unusually brutal winter.

I don’t know why the tulip bothered me so much. It was on the property of an old man I noticed once or twice working in his yard—a beautiful yard kept pristine from the full attention of its owner. Now, I noticed a few weeds, a small broken branch dried and dangling from a tree, the pretty geraniums that always lined the driveway wilting from lack of water. I wondered if perhaps the man was ill. Before Luci, I would have raced by his house without a second thought, oblivious of the neglected yard. I sent up a prayer.

Thank you, Luci, my love, for making me slow down and see.

Annalisa Russo
www.AnnalisaRusso.com/blog
www.AnnalisaRusso.com

The Stuff of Dreams

With surprising frequency, I get story ideas from my dreams. I'll wake up in the morning and hurry to write down the vivid setting or scene which I have just experienced. These nuggets of inspiration are particularly powerful, since I have been immersed in them as a participant...inside the story, so to speak.

That is how I came to develop Dragon Wife, my current release with The Wild Rose Press. I popped awake one morning, having dreamed myself as the heroine, Orwenna. She encounters a magnificent dragon-shifter chieftain, falls for him, and then learns he plans to marry her cousin. It was such a striking experience, full of intense emotions and possibility. I just had to write it down. One thing led to another, and I found myself with a novel.

Last month, I dreamed the beginning of a multiple-worlds fantasy story, and by the time I’d written ten pages of notes, I realized it will actually be a series. Who knows where this gem of an idea came from? Honestly, it feels like a magical gift, popped into my sleeping mind.

Have you ever received inspiration from a dream? Do you think it came from your own subconscious, or is there a possibility we can touch some larger truth or reality in our dreams? I’m curious to know what others think about this.

Diana Green
http://www.dianagreenbooks.com

Blog Promotion by Kayden Claremont

When I got my book deal with The Wild Rose Press the thought that I would have to do promotion made me light-headed and my tummy queasy. Like all authors I love to write and don’t want to lose precious time doing promotion. I didn’t know how to get started so I hired a social media expert to help me. The first thing she told me was I needed to brand myself. Since I write under two different names I needed two different looks for all my social media including my blogs.

For Kayden Claremont, my paranormal erotica pen name, she found a picture of the universe that I loved then she added a gorgeous hunk on the right hand side. She chose a different font and added my logline ‘A glimpse into the steamy supernatural’. Thus my branding was born.

I hadn’t really spent much time thinking about me as a brand, but I really liked what she had created for me.

Marilyn used the same picture on my Facebook, and Twitter to strengthen my branding.

Then on my About Page she installed my picture and biography. On my Books Page she installed the cover of Hell’s Bounty, release October 10, 2014 from The Wild Rose Press, and she made sure my contact information was there as well. I had never bothered with these two pages,but Marilyn insisted they be done properly so that if a reader wanted to find out more information about me they could find it easily.

We decided that my romantic suspense pen name, Karen Blake-Hall, needed to look suspenseful so she found a picture of a park at night, then added my logline, ‘Where Sizzling Romance and Thrill Suspense Collide’. She added a slightly different biography to the About Page then added the two anthologies that I have short stories in on the Books Page.

My blogs are linked to my Facebook and Twitter so the post is broadcast throughout all of my social media.

I’m an introvert and really I don’t want to be promoting myself, but you have to put some personal information out there for readers to identify with. She taught me there is a difference between being personal and being personable. I’m gluten-free and when I post about food, my numbers increase. Why? Even if you’re not gluten-free you know someone who is and it’s nice to find a different recipe to try.

Share your hobbies, your favorite TV shows and movies. Share what you love and your readers will love them too. Have contests, quizzes and don’t forget things that bring you joy in your life might bring joy to your readers lives too.

Now, am I a master of the blogging universe? Not really, but I can now use blogs efficiently to connect with like-minded readers.

Please visit Kayden Claremont at:

Blog: http://kaydenclaremont.wordpress.com/
Facebook: www.Facebook.com/kayden.claremont

Hell's Bounty Available Oct 10!
To Purchase

Haunted Garden:Love Her Like the Devil

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I think Halloween as an adult is a lot more fun, simply because we don’t get a lot of chances to become somebody else like we did when we were children (where every day you were somebody new whether a superhero, a baker, a cowboy, a soldier or a princess.)

Pretending to be someone else for a few hours can be energizing, fun and let us shed some of our ordinary personalities to be that superhero, that cowboy, that rock star or princess again. 

Sure, writing stories is always about the make-believe, about what kind of character we want to be for a specific story.  But putting on the cape or the glam make-up and high-colored hair or the cowboy hat and boots can even let a writer escape from our solitude, escape our wallflower existence and, for one night a year, be that one magical being no one knows we want to be...and maybe no one knows we really are.

Available Today! A special Haunted Monday Halloween Release!

Love Her Like the Devil

By Stacy Dawn

www.stacydawn.com

Hauntings in the Garden

A chance meeting in a honky tonk on Halloween finds Luke in the arms of a brown-haired beauty. But if the stories he overhears are true, she may be far more than she seems...and he's more than ready to find out.

Rating: Sensual
Page Count: 12
Word Count: 2580
978-1-62830-581-4 Digital

Excerpt:

Halloween sure brings out the characters, don’t it?

Luke Santana chuckled at the group of college kids clamoring past him to get into the Double Deuce Honky Tonk. Half of them wore ridiculous outfits he couldn’t even begin to understand and the other half traditional fairs of caped crusaders, masked phantoms, zombies and sexy maids. He quite enjoyed the latter.

As he moved to the bar, his gaze caught on one particular blonde in a baby blue corset tight enough to overfill the small cups. The lights behind the bar glistened off Bo Peep’s pale breasts, and he instantly became hard. Luke grinned. This was his rare night away from the family-run business…and he planned to enjoy himself.

He adjusted his Stetson and sidled up to the bar, tossing a leg over the stool next to the buxom beauty. A heady breeze of cheap perfume plumed around him as she turned and graced him with a perfectly wicked smile.

Haunted Garden: The Origins of Halloween

The month of October conjures up images of turning leaves, hayrides, pumpkins, scarecrows, black cats, and of course Halloween decorations. I love learning about the origin of the holidays we celebrate, so I did a bit of (admittedly rudimentary) research to discover some of the reasons we dress up and try to scare each other on October 31st.

Originally known as All Hallows’ Eve, Halloween is linked to the Celtic festival of Samhain. This last day of autumn was considered the time of year when the barrier between the paranormal and physical worlds grew thin.
The Christian holiday of All Saints’ Day (All Hallows) also influenced Halloween. It was said that the souls awaiting release on November 1st had one last night to extract revenge on their enemies before leaving the earth. Cautious Christians would disguise themselves with masks to avoid recognition.

The custom of carving pumpkins originated from a Samhain practice of remembering souls with turnip lanterns. Trick-or-treating can be traced back to “souling”, a medieval practice which involved the poor and hungry travelling door-to-door and offering to pray for the dead in return for food.

My favorite Halloween tradition is visiting haunted houses. In the town next to ours, a large farm designs an incredibly creepy haunted house each year. It’s out in the woods, almost pitch black inside, and people are hiding in corners to jump out at you. There’s no guide, so sometimes a group takes a wrong turn, only to discover a ghoul standing behind them. I scream the entire time, but it’s fun, because in the back of my head I know it’s not real.

The medium in my novel GULL HARBOR, however, spends her summer in a truly haunted house.
Claire Linden arrives in Gull Harbor ready to take on an aggressive ghost—now that she’s embraced her psychic gift, she’s confident she’ll be able to rid her temporary home of the restless spirit that drove the owners to hire her. However, she doesn’t expect to encounter Max Baron, the man who promised to love her forever, then abandoned her without an explanation five years ago. As Claire unravels the truth behind the haunting, Max must share his secret in order to stay close enough to help protect the woman he still loves from a danger that extends beyond the paranormal…

For a haunting Halloween read, pick up GULL HARBOR by Kathryn Knight…a Paranormal Romance available from The Wild Rose Press.

Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BK9QWNY/ref=cm_sw_su_dp

 

B&N - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gull-harbor-kathryn-knight/1115863349?ean=2940016510637

 

iTunes - https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/gull-harbor/id660109363?mt=11

 

TWRP - http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=177_139&products_id=5218

Haunted Garden: Shapeshifter Mythology

Happy Halloween Season! October is possibly my favorite month of the year, and Halloween has a great deal to do with that. This year, I thought it would be fun to do a little fact finding about the traditional Halloween monsters (werewolves, vampires, and Frankenstein) and their evolution in folklore and literature.

Since my upcoming release - Andromeda's Fall - (release date TBD) involves mountain lion shifters, let's start with werewolves (and shifters in general).

As I researched this topic, I found it very interesting that--unlike vampires and Frankenstein--almost every culture around the world has some type of transformation or shape-shifting mythology (typically with animals indigenous to the area) that go back to antiquity.

In earlier history, shapeshifters were most commonly deities (gods or goddesses) with the magical ability to transform. In Japan they have Kitsune, a fox shifter who is typically benevolent but often a trickster. Korea and China have similar fox shapeshifter myths. In Africa, deities shift into lions or leopards. In South America they transform into jaguars. Some gods/goddesses in Greek, Roman, Norse, etc. mythology can pick their forms.

Another frequent myth seen for shifters in earlier history were humans who were transformed into something by a god or goddess as a punishment. In Greek mythology, Arachne was transformed into a spider. In Roman and Ovid’s Metamorphoses, King Lycaon was changed to a wolf by Jupiter (some attribute this as the beginning of werewolf mythology). But in these cases, the person shifted had no power to change back to human. This theme continued in later European folklore. The Frog Prince and Beauty and the Beast both involve transformation into animals as a punishment.

Enter the Middle Ages where the werewolf mythology became prevalent. Most of the people executed for being werewolves in this time period were later found by historians to be serial killers. The werewolf mythology closely follows witch folklore and persecution. In fact, shifters mythologies were not all that prevalent in North America until brought over by European colonists at the same time as they brought their fear of witches.

Based on what I could find, not a lot seemed to change about shapeshifter folklore for quite some time. Up to the 1940s (and even later) they were truly seen as monsters eliciting terror and revulsion. Early books and movies about werewolves have the happy ending being the death or defeat of the creature.

In my research, I couldn't find a specific trigger for the change in perception of shapeshifters and werewolves as monsters to the view of them today as sympathetic and even heroic. Even books written in the mid- to late-1900s still use a more classic example of shifters. For example, in C.S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia, Eustace is shifted into a dragon - but more as a learning moment or punishment, not at will.

I would argue that shapeshifters we see today are found in literature and movies only in the last 10-20 years. Unlike their earlier counterparts, these people/creatures are not deities (or not always), are not being punished, can change forms at will (or at least aren't permanently an animal), are powerful, are usually benevolent or good, and frequently have an entire sub-culture of like-shifters to support them or deal with in some way.

What a change from the monsters they originally were. Right?

I've found this topic so interesting to research, I'll have to dig more on the psychology behind this phenomenon. My guess is that, like vampires, we've romanticized werewolves and other shapeshifters, giving them more human qualities, behaviors, and values. Dissatisfied by our human frailty, we are intrigued by the thought of what additional power assuming such a form could provide.

It makes me wonder what the next 10, 20, 100 years have in store for these fascinating--and ancient--creatures.

Abigail Owen

Award-Winning Author of the Svatura Series

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest 

HOW BILLBOARD COP WAS CREATED by Lynde Lakes

Often people ask me how I come up with ideas. Ideas are always zooming around authors, all they have to do is grab onto one that intrigues them.  The idea for BILLBOARD COP didn't come from a billboard.  I was sitting in Aina Haina parking lot in Honolulu watching cars come and go while waiting for a friend to mail a letter.  A sleek black Porsche pulled into the space beside me.  A well-groomed man jumped out dressed in a designer suit and strode to a faded, dented Ford and placed a business card under the windshield wiper.  He stood a moment, removed card and after another hesitation he put it back. At once my writer's mind started playing the what if game.  What if I was seeing the dance of an illicit love affair.  Or was I watching an intrigue and he was leaving instructions for the hit person regarding whom to take out.  Was a woman arranging to have her husband killed or vice versa? Ideas and stories began to swirl in my mind.

That was the weekend I was flying to Boston on a business trip, a place where the Boston strangler romped and somehow the change of location sent my mind in another direction and the card became a billboard.

Hence, I came up with the following idea: BILLBOARD COP-- A STORY OF DECEPTION, OBSESSION, A SERIAL KILLER AND LOVE.

York Wylinski, a Boston police detective, short on time and patience, wants an old-fashioned wife and puts up a billboard ad.  Jen Lyman, a thoroughly modern reporter wants his story and applies, pretending to be an old fashioned girl. Chasing her big story, she contacts the detective assigned to the murdered reporter’s case. The Billboard Cop is the detective in charge!  Their anger and simmering attraction bursts into flames when they collide.  The tension escalates when she becomes the killer’s obsession.  And the detective’s obsession as well.

Premise: Accepting the unlikely alliance between a reporter married to her job and a cop who hates reporters, proves love can alter even steadfast goals.

Who would think a simple business card under a clunker windshield by a rich guy would inspire a story?  And how did the change of location switch my mind set?  I have no idea, all  I know is the idea set me on fire and I had the structure of the story laid out in four days and still had time for research and a good time.  Of course sleep had to wait until I returned to Honolulu. 

To Purchase

THOSE BAD, BAD BOYS by Rolynn Anderson

I’m a failed feminist.  Okay, that might be too harsh.  Maybe “Embarrassed Feminist,” is a kinder appellation.  Here I’ve written fifteen plus novels (soon to publish my fifth), and I haven’t crafted a female villain until FAINT, my third-in-a-series novel about a boutique funeral planner.

How did this happen?  What does it mean?  Is it ‘natural’ to create male villains or do I build bad guys because I’m a female?

This may be one of the problems with being a pantser as a writer.  My greatest joy is popping up in the morning, brewing a cup of coffee, sitting down to the computer and typing away.  I have no idea where my story is going until I write it.   Forget plans, outlines and advanced plotting.  Excitement for me comes with the surprises in store for me every time I write.

I didn’t set out to focus on bad boys, but I did.  How about you?  What percentage of your nasty characters are male?

P.S. Check out my first in the boutique funeral planner series, called FADEOUT.  Here’s where you’ll learn more about the book: http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=175_133&products_id=4995 or
http://www.amazon.com/Fadeout-Rolynn-Anderson/dp/1612173616

More on my website:
http://rolynnanderson.com/

Cheese Graters and Families by Annalisa Russo

It’s the end of July and I am in the kitchen finishing my spring cleaning. (What can I say, I got a late start) I take down an old cheese grater from the hook on the wall. My home is decorated in what one might call comfy contemporary, but I have a few cherished items that belonged to my grandmother sprinkled about.

Nonna, as I called her, was a good cook. Mostly she made up recipes because when she traveled to America after my grandfather sent for her, she didn’t know how to boil water. As one of the older children in her large Italian family, she left her village on Monday morning to walk five miles to the factory where she worked and slept six days a week. Her younger sisters stayed home and learned household chores and cooking from their mother.

The story goes when my grandfather won enough money in a poker game to ask for her hand in marriage, he sent for her. After they married, they took in boarders to make ends meet, so as a new bride, my grandmother cooked and cleaned for six men. She learned the art of cooking quickly.

Back to the cheese grater. I dust it carefully—the rusted grate, the wooden box with a green enameled knob on the drawer under the grate. And return it to its honored place on the wall where I can see it every day—a reminder my family lived with my Nonna and Nonno until I was fourteen. For most meals, we ate together, all nine of us, eight if my father had to work nights. My grandmother cooked, my mother cleaned up, a division of labor, I suppose, because two women in the same kitchen doesn’t work.

We had soup before every meal, mostly a rich broth made from beef or chicken and whatever vegetables were left over from the day before. My Nonno, sitting at the head of the table, would grate the cheese. ‘Stinky cheese’ we always called it, but now I know it was good quality parmesan bought in a wheel from the local grocer down the street. He’d pass the grater, and we’d sprinkle cheese on our soup.

So, to me the grater represents the coming together as a family to share a meal and conversation. As I look back now at my own family, I tried for as long as possible to keep the tradition of the family meal alive. We met, we prayed, we ate. It wasn’t always easy as my children had places to go and people to see the older they grew.

I grew up with a strong sense of family. I suppose that’s why, in my series The Cavelli Angel Saga, the Cavelli family comes together in the kitchen of Bellaluna often to eat, share, talk, and solve their problems. To the Cavelli siblings, no problem is too big if they have each other.

I imagine for today’s busy parents, a family meal can be the exception rather than the rule. But even in this age of cell phones, texting, and Twitter, I hope you and your family can come together at the table and recognize the gift a rusty old cheese grater can be.


Annalisa Russo
http://www.annalisarusso.com
facebook - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Annalisa-Russo/268293213274701

One Enchanted Evening with LA Kelly

Writing for a Series: Don’t Tell Me What To Do. I’m a God in My Own Mind.

I’ll let you in on a little secret. All writers have a dark side. Deep down we’re convinced if people would only do everything we say, damn it, the world would be a better place. Eventually each one of us comes to the sorry conclusion we won’t be elected Ruler of the World. The only way to make up for the crushing disappointment is to write. On paper I wield omnipotent power over my fictional realm. I manipulate lives, kill off all my enemies (in print), and create people way more interesting than myself. Not to mention, being adored by millions of fans (in my mind.) The dark forces rise. Mwah-ha-ha.

Then I got the chance to write One Enchanted Evening for a series.

Writing for a pre-existing series has a special set of challenges. Writers do not necessarily play well with others. We are pasty-faced individuals, bereft of social skills. Banished to unheated garrets with quills in hand, we battle wasting upper respiratory ailments. Writing for a series requires unprecedented cooperation and no small amount of patience. Coughing delicately into our lacy handkerchiefs, we must scurry from the garret to interact with real people. It’s hard.

Build from the fictional ground up.
The first step in the development of the Lobster Cove series for Wild Rose Press was to appoint a coordinating editor. Rumor has it she didn’t duck fast enough and got slapped with the job. Lord knows, it’s not for the faint of heart. Her responsibility entailed devising the original platform; in this case a small town on the coast of Maine. Stories would cover all time periods; past, present, and future. Full length novels, novelettes, and even short stories were welcome along with an array of fiction genres such as contemporary, historical, suspense, paranormal and, yes, even naughty bits of erotica. Like a real town, Lobster Cove would have diversity in spades.

To rough out descriptive details, the editor solicited suggestions early from those who had an interest in writing for the series. Decisions had to be made concerning the size of the town in both area and population. What were the most logical major and minor industries in a Maine coastal resort area? What were typical occupations? The editor created a master spreadsheet with categories and descriptions of places and occupations, male and female characters, town events, and other reference items writers might need. With the basics laid out, next came an actual town map highlighting streets and locations of buildings and service organizations such as the police department, hospital, and public schools. Local landmarks were chosen and situated. Lobster Cove now had a lighthouse, a centrally located park with gazebo, manmade lake, beaches, and an offshore island.

Submissions opened up. Publishing contracts were signed. New businesses and characters were added to the spreadsheet. The map filled in even more. Slowly, Lobster Cove began to resemble a real town. Places, however, need more than people and buildings. Dozens of other details had to be worked out such as festivals, town events, flora and fauna, and the high school mascot. World-building is a pain. No wonder gods are so cranky.

What do you mean there’s no room for Ye Olde Donut Shoppe? Not even a lousy kiosk?
When creating a world from scratch, the author controls the population. Not so in a series. As far as story ideas, it’s first come, first served and all subject to the coordinating editor’s approval. The first person to use a character defines a character. If a contracted story states the mayor is a cross-dressing, Irish-Argentinian cat fancier with irritable bowel syndrome than that’s what goes into the spreadsheet. Anyone else wanting to use the mayor has to take Pedro O’Toole and his kittens, gastroenteritis, and feathered boa as is. Either that or its back to the storyboard.

Lack of control can be a royal pain especially when it comes to the major setting for your story. Food venues seem to be the first to go. It makes sense. Coffee shops, restaurants, or bakeries are all perfect places for social interaction—great venues for story arcs. You may have written a moving, charming, brilliant, and gripping tale about the owner of a donut shop, but if another writer beats you to the punch, and the editor decrees Lobster Cove has enough donut shops, you’re out of luck. Back to the rewrites.

There are additional considerations when coordinating details with other writers. Want your characters to have a romantic walk along the pier on the third Saturday in June? Oops, too bad. Another author has a storm scheduled that day. Have a big denouement in the police chief’s office the last week of September? Pity, another author is having it fumigated. One sticky problem I had was the name of a particular character. He was a minor, but necessary addition to my story. I couldn’t write around him, but he was not my character. His role had already been defined by another. That meant his name had been selected and it happened to be a name I detest. This is not the name for someone who is an asset to a community. This is the name of a kid who sat next to me in kindergarten, grabbing his crotch and making airplane noises. Seriously, I wouldn’t give a gerbil in one of my stories this name, but I was stuck with it. I gnashed my teeth each time I typed it in.

Another problem is time limits. Writing for a series is not for someone who needs two years to crank out a story. Submission dates are firm. If you can’t finish by the deadline, than you need to shop your work around somewhere else.

Give it up for the team.
I had reservations about working on a series. Writing for me has always been a solitary art and I wasn’t sure I could be a team player. I was wrong. Despite minor irritations, working on One Enchanted Evening was a blast. It’s good to step out of your comfort zone. It stretches those literary wings.

The foremost pleasure comes from the collaboration with other writers dedicated to infusing life into a fictional town. Lobster Covians (yeah, we had a discussion about what to call inhabitants, too) are an eager talented group ready to share ideas and research. An innocent query into the writer’s loop about a character or place brings a plethora of links, pictures, and helpful hints. Need someone to read a passage from a work in progress to see if it rings true? Just post a query. Someone will answer and give you the benefit of their experience. It’s a warm, supportive community with an enthusiastic cheering squad. I’m proud to be an honorary citizen of the Cove.

L. A. Kelley writes fantasies with adventure, romance, humor and touch of sass. Her newest release, One Enchanted Evening, comes out on September 29. You can find her at http://lakelleythenaughtylist.blogspot.com


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A ghost story in Lobster Cove

Rory DuMont has had enough of hiding the fact that she sees ghosts. Lobster Cove is a new start and she's determined to shed the mistakes of the past. If that means she ends up alone then so be it. What she can't seem to shed is Travis Reed, Lobster Cove's resident skeptic and biology teacher. Sparks fly when the skeptic and the psychic find themselves alone together but the sparks turn into flames when a ghost takes a personal interest in them.

Rating: Sensual
Page Count: 124
Word Count: 32560
978-1-62830-684-2 Digital

To Purchase

Excerpt:

Rory blew out a breath. “If I tell you yes, I’m messing with you when I say there were ghosts here tonight then you’re okay with that. You’re comfortable with it. If I tell you no, that there really was a ghost, two in fact, here tonight, then the train derails and you run for the hills.”

He stared at her for a moment with a thoughtful look on his face. “Tell me what you believe you saw.”

“The truth?”

Travis nodded. “The truth of what you believe you saw.”

“That’s a very guarded way of putting it.”

“No. It’s a very scientific way of putting it. I can’t know what to think if I don’t have all the evidence.”

“Fair enough. I saw two ghosts.”

“Whole images?”

“One fairly solid, a little boy and one kind of wavering, an older woman.”

He watched her face as she said it, and Rory held her breath, waiting for the sneer that had always accompanied any talk of her gift in the past. She would be sorry to see him walk away. Even though it had only been a few weeks, she realized she’d come to enjoy his company. Part of her knew she’d been hoping for something more, no matter how much she told herself she wasn’t going to do another relationship. Still, it would hurt, and she steeled herself for the good-bye. At last he nodded.

“Okay, you saw two ghosts.”

“You’re not headed for the door.”

“The kids aren’t packed up yet.” He grinned. “And the train is still on the tracks, Ms. DuMont. Nothing’s derailed yet.”

“Willing to take a chance on a crazy lady, is that it?”

Rory found she didn’t like the words even as she said them. Something about the idea that he would stick around to find out how crazy she was didn’t feel any better than the idea he would walk away because he thought her crazy.

He stepped up to her, and before she could blink, he’d planted a hard kiss on her lips. As he moved back, she could only stare at him, not certain what to say or if she should say anything at all. He shook his head.

“Willing to take the time to find out about a beautiful and very interesting lady that I’ve become attracted to.”


“Wow. That makes me sound worth the effort.”

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Enchanted clothing has a mind of its own...

New in Lobster Cove

Enchanted clothing has a mind of its own. Restlessness plagued Charlotte Becker. While searching for an elusive something to calm her turbulent spirit, she accepts a sudden invitation to Lobster Cove, Maine. Luke Maddox’s hunting days are over. Wounded in action, he returns to Lobster Cove, the only place to ever bring him peace. Hiding his disability, he accepts life will be nothing more than dull routine until he meets a young woman wearing an unusual cloak. She tells an incredible story of a murderous wolf that walks on two legs. And the hunt begins…

Rating: Sensual
Page Count: 226
Word Count: 54600
978-1-62830-636-1 Paperback
978-1-62830-637-8 Digital

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Excerpt:

Swallowing back her unease, Charlotte rolled up the window and got out. Except for her car, Main Street was empty. She pushed through the scrubby overgrown yard. Clearly illuminated on the door was the By Appointment Only sign. Somebody must be inside and she wasn’t going anywhere without a tow truck. Butterflies fluttered about her stomach as she scampered up the steps and knocked on the door.

“Excuse me,” she called out. “I don’t have an appointment, but my car and phone died and I need a tow—”

The door swung open. Charlotte drew in a breath and set a hesitant foot over the threshold. The interior lights activated, sending her heart pounding.

“Nothing to worry about,” she muttered. “Motion sensors or something. Hello?” she called louder. “Anyone home?”

Charlotte stepped inside. With the interior illuminated, more than a few armoires were visible. The old front parlor was crammed with trunks and bureaus. Battered chests stacked on top of each other lined the walls. Had all this stuff been here before? The size of the building was deceptively small from the outside.

“Great places to stuff a body,” she muttered.

“That’s true,” said a voice.

Charlotte made a leaping half spin around. Her heart shouldered her esophagus out of the way to race up her throat. She swallowed hard to force it back down. The elderly woman with the peasant blouse and purple bandana stood right behind her.


“However, I don’t recommend it,” she said, cheerfully, “as you’ll never get rid of the smell. Did I startle you?”

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A tall, dark stranger has secrets....

  After her husband is killed, single mother Julie Whitney opens Julie’s Coffee and Sweet Shop.  Suddenly, her business partner and baker falls ill and she needs a new pastry chef.  If she doesn't find one fast, she'll go bankrupt.

The mob wants Gabe Vaughn dead.  Sleepy little Lobster Cove seems as good a place as any to hide.  The red-headed owner of the coffee shop needs help; Gabe's family owned a bakery.  He could think of worse ways to occupy his time while he lays low.

On one hand, Julie is convinced heaven answered her prayers when she needed help the most.  On the other, the tall, dark stranger with secrets in his eyes has made it clear he is only passing through.  Is her mysterious new employee hiding something? Or is he really an angel in disguise?

To Purchase

Rating: Sweet
Page Count: 200
Word Count: 46120
978-1-62830-642-2      Paperback
978-1-62830-643-9     Digital

Excerpt:

He took her lips with his and kissed her deeply.

Did that mean he loved her, as well? She wouldn’t ask. “I don’t want you to go. What if they find you? What if…?”

“No more what ifs. I’ll be fine.”

He hugged her close. Julie thought her heart was going to break. Gabe could die. What would she do? “You’d better be.”

They kissed again. And again. Until Julie’s head was swimming, her body crying for release.
Instead of doing anything about it, Gabe gently pulled away and walked her to the door. “Once I’m a free man, we’ll take up where we left off.”

Moments later, she found herself outside his door, her keys in her hand. Dazed, she looked at him, couldn’t believe he was sending her home when she wanted to stay.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Julie. I have more to do now than ever before.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll be gone a few days. I’ll put as much pastry as I can in the freezer so all you’ll have to do is frost the cupcakes and put out the cookies. You’re a whiz at making the tarts, so they’ll be no problem. It’s the best I can do.”

“Oh, Gabe. I don’t care about any of that. I just care about you.”

“Call it my way of caring about you.”

He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

His door shut, and she stood there, unable to move, unable to absorb the story he’d just unfolded.

She’d known all along Gabe was a man of mystery—a dangerous man. Her instincts were right on that score. But a cop? One who was hunted by the mob? It was unreal.

She walked slowly to her car. She wanted to cry, but her eyes stayed dry.

She had to trust what he said, that he’d come back. Could she?

She hadn’t known when he walked through her front door that she’d fall in love.

Her heart trip-hammering in her chest, she started the motor and drove home.

Gabe was leaving.

Would he keep his promise and come back?

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He's all wrong for Lobster Cove...

Branson Cudahy is as southern as it gets, a cyber crime investigator from happily-landlocked Lexington, Kentucky. He has been chasing a hacker for three years, and now the trail has led him to Lobster Cove, Maine...which is a real problem for a guy with a shellfish allergy.

Jenna Sanborn waits tables to pay the bills, but she dreams of opening a quilt shop in the heart of town. She’d never even think of leaving Lobster Cove, but the handsome newcomer is tempting beyond her wildest imaginings.

Bran and Jenna never expect the whirlwind romance that comes out of their meeting. As hard as they fight to control their feelings, their hearts are fighting to push them over that dizzying lover’s leap. Will love win out, or will the hacker—and their dreams—slip the net?

To Purchase

excerpt:

He released the orange then pivoted to gaze down the street. He had a stare like a hawk, surveying everything, but clearly on the lookout for something particular as he swept the passersby. Jenna wondered what wheels were turning in his head. Then she wondered what “business” had brought him to town. “Did you find the police station all right?” Nosy, she scolded herself as soon as the words left her mouth.

He didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah, thanks. Listen, since I’m new in town, I could use a few tips on where to go and what’s good to do. Can I grab you a coffee?”

Flustered again, she gestured at her grocery cart. “Milk. Ice cream. Frozen vegetables.”

“Not a stalker,” he said, “I promise.”

“I didn’t think that.”

“Yeah, you did. It’s okay.” He smiled. “Best coffee in town?”

“Sang Freud,” she said automatically. “Up the street on the left.” She grinned. “It’s hard to get lost here. There’s not much town.”

“All right, Jenna,” he said. “Tell you what. I’m gonna be there about four o’clock. If you want to meet me there and talk Lobster Cove, I’ll be all ears. If not, no pressure.”

She giggled. Giggled. Like a teenager going to her first concert with a cute boy. Mortified, and now convinced that her cheeks were as red as a stop sign, she backed away. “I’ll keep it in mind. See you later, Mister Cudahy.”

His grin sent a flutter through her midsection. “Bran.”


“Okay. Bran.” She waved goodbye, then hurried off down the street with her groceries and would-be-truant oranges.


As she walked, she sensed his gaze on her, and she beamed, flattered and flustered, and for once, feeling beautiful.

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Two Heroes Walk Into A Bar…Diary of a bartender

You see all kinds of people in my line of work, and I have a fairly keen eye for the troublemakers. Last week, I thought I’d have to bring out the bat.

Some people think I’m crazy—the front of my bar is a large painted window—but I like to keep an eye on who’s coming, and how. For example, a single motorcycle, no problem. But a half a dozen or so at once, and my guard goes up.

Oz arrived alone. Six and a half feet of muscle packed tight into jeans and leather. Bald with dazzsil
ling blue eyes. Ouch, he was hot! He sat down at the bar, told me his name (polite guy), and ordered a whiskey.

I got busy serving other customers, so I’m not sure how long it was, maybe thirty minutes, when bright headlights flashed in the window. Pick-up truck. I can tell by the height of the lights. And dark. Probably black. The door opened and in walked this huge, gorgeous Native American. All dressed in black, his long hair hung to his shoulders. I couldn’t tell who was bigger, Oz or the new guy, but let me tell you my warning light went on when the man-in-black sat at the bar two stools down from Oz.
Beer. Big and cold, he ordered.

I served it up, and looked to Oz. He seemed pretty engrossed in the t.v. playing above my head, but I planned to keep an eye of them both. Just in case.

I glanced over from time to time, but as the bar got busy, I lost focus. I was down at the other end when Oz got up and tapped man-in-black on the shoulder.

Oz said something.

Man-in-black stood. (Almost the same height, by the way.)

I inched closer to the bat as they moved to the centre of the bar. I closed my hand around the cool wood grip.

Oz picked up a pool cue, handed it to man-in-black, and picked up a cue for himself. I let go of the bat.

Later, when I went by to see if they needed a refill or anything, they were deep in discussion about….women. It sounded like they were both in fairly new relationships and were feeling one another out for advice.

Maybe my judge of character is slipping.

You can read about Oz and Angela in Charlotte Copper’s SILVER BLADE, and you can find out more about Mitch (the man-in-black) and Sarah in Charlotte’s latest release, HEART SHIFTER.


Charlotte Copper
http://charlottecopperauthor.com

Perfect Timing by Lula Diamond

Lula Diamond - Author of Chaos Conquers All

“Is this a good time to talk?”

It’s a question that thoughtful people ask when they call you on the phone, or pop into your office, or catch you resting your forehead on a stack of papers. Usually they don’t want to talk as much as have you listen. Plenty of people don’t bother to ask but come barging into your business, ready or not. If it really isn’t a good time, I’m not shy about letting folks know—or taking a bathroom break that becomes an escape. I have important things to do, deadlines, meetings, children to pick up or drop off, groceries to buy. In short, I’m busy.

But there is one group that consistently refuses to give me a break. They interrupt at the most inconvenient times and refuse to be silent, put it in an email, or ‘hold that thought’. They have absolutely no boundaries and could care less if I’m in the middle of something else. Many a time, I’ve stepped dripping from the shower to grab an index card and a pen because these voices will not shut up. Or I’m in the middle of a relaxing drive with some good music, and the next thing I know I’m hearing an argument or watching two people go at it like cats in heat. Honestly, have they no shame? I cannot safely operate heavy machinery in the middle of a sex scene. And try getting a good night’s rest with this group. Good luck. Just as you’re ready to drift off, one of them pipes up with a blackmail scheme, a heart attack or a car accident. All drama, all the time. Except when I’m ready to put fingers to my keyboard.

Of course, I’m talking about my story characters, those rascals. They will not be ignored and if you make them wait, they sulk. Silently. So I’m the lady sitting in the grocery store parking lot in the summer heat surrounded by my melting frozen vegetables scribbling on my receipt, or the car that swerves off the road not to use my cell phone but to write a scene on an old McDonald’s bag. It’s a good thing I keep a lot of trash in my car. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to hear from them. They are a gift. They make me hoot with laughter, grind my teeth when I can’t get their story straight, and tear up when I finally understand them. I love those guys. I just wish they had better timing.

To Purchase

Lula Diamond
www.luladiamond.com

An Interview and Cover reveal with Debbie Taylor

Jess Russell
Cover reveal with Debbie Taylor
jessrussellromance.com

As a writer you spend hours and hours imagining your characters, living in their skins, coming to know and love them (despite the fact that my hero is obsessed with clocks and my heroine can’t hold a tune in a bucket). You embrace all their quirks and faults.

But will the cover artist assigned to your book have the same vision as you?

I won’t lie, there are equal amounts of eager excitement as well as finger-gnawing trepidation when you receive the email that the “face” of your debut novel is ready. You close your eyes and hold your breath, your finger hovering over the “open” icon. Will your heroine have three arms? (Yes, this has happened!) Will you fall in love on the spot, or perhaps learn to love this face, or simply grimace and bear it?

Click. Breath expels. Yee Haa!

I am one of the lucky ones. I had Debbie Taylor of The Wild Rose Press as my artist for The Dressmaker’s Duke. Debbie created a rich, painterly cover with two yummy lovers—my Olivia and Rhys. I proposed some minor tweaks and Debbie listened, took my suggestions and ran with them.

The process got me thinking about what goes into creating a cover. At The Wild Rose Press, an author fills out a detailed Cover Art form—what your H & H look like, the setting(s) of the book, a brief synopsis of the story. You can submit covers you admire and get as detailed as you please. But ultimately the publisher/artist know what works and sells.

Today I have Debbie as my guest to talk about a day in the life of a cover artist.

Hi Debbie. Thanks so much for joining me.

How did you come to be a cover artist?

Deb: I have been a graphic artist for many years starting in TV commercials, media, and business advertising. However, it wasn’t until I started writing and publishing my own books that I began paying attention to cover art. I hated what was out there and so I started learning how to make my own. That is why I like working closely with the author. With my 30 years in business and advertising I know what sells. I enjoy creating a cover that pops and that the author loves. Covers are just the wrapping to all the work the author put into writing their book. I am always honored when they choose me to create their cover!!!

What is your inspiration?

Deb: Photos, music, color. I have always loved to see paintings and see every little detail. The magic is there with every stroke of pen or brush.

Who are some of your favorite artists?

Deb: I have a lot of artist friends but no favorite one.

How do you begin a cover?

Deb: I ask the author to fill out a cover art form. I get a good idea what the book is about from the input. That is how the cover design forms in my head. They I try to work that image on the cover.

Do you work in layers?

Deb: Yes I do work with layers, many of them. Every change I make is on a new layer. It keeps changes simple.

Do you begin with the main figures? Or does it change with every new project?

Deb: I start with the background and work forward. This helps with placement. Those things never really change in any project. What changes is concept, and font. I work for many different companies and each one has their own wants and needs for the cover styles they like.

About how long is the process?

Deb: That depends on the concept and the author. For the most part a few hours but at times(very few) the author can be very picky, not know what they want, or not answer communications. I had one take six months to finish. But we got it just right.

Do you work with models? If so, do you have a favorite model story?

Deb: Yes I have worked with models but not often. We have lots of fun.

I actually modeled for a romance poster (long ago!) I just remember the male model being very tall (I think my head fit under his armpit.) We ended up having me stand on an apple box. I didn’t mind, it made my legs look very long.

What do you love other than art?

Deb: Music, writing, and gaming!!! LOL Life is awesome.

OK, you have to tell us what is your game du jour?

Deb: LOL a few I enjoy are World of Warcraft, Minecraft, Halo, GhostRecon, Fable, Final Fantasy. I normally don’t have time to play much, but they spark my imagination. And as a published author of 7 books and a cover artist, gaming can be very helpful.

I will tell my son that. He will be thrilled.

Deb: Thank you for asking me to join you on your blog Jessica!!! I was so thrilled and honored. I can’t wait to read your new book The Dressmaker’s Duke.

Thanks, Debbie. September 26th! I can’t wait for it to come out.