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?

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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.

Silly Questions Got me in Trouble by Vicki Batman

Some of you may be wondering who these singers are; however, once upon a time, they were the rage. I am familiar with them and some of their songs, particularly Tom’s “What’s New Pussycat?”

What do these singers have to do with me? I knew you’d ask. Lol

Several years ago, I was returning from a funsister trip with girlfriends when one of them suggested playing car games. (Yes, we groaned.) We were pooped—champagne, late nights, cake, laughs, movies, chocolate, and shopping. The fun things girls do!

So with minimal coaxing, we each took a turn answering. My reply was Englebert as I thought he seemed sexier and Tom was wilder. My other friends picked Tom. Guess they were wilder!

Then my friend tossed out this question: Write the opening paragraph of a book, using the word window.

Panic set in. I am not a spontaneous writer. And if I had some spontaneity, I wanted it to be stellar. So the others—thankfully—went first, giving me time to try to pull something together. My turn came, and all eyes rotated to me. Yikes! I still had nothing. Nothing nothing. So I shrugged.
My friend said that I could write something the following week and email it. Put on the spot, I agreed because I knew my galpals: they would hold me to it.

Two days later after I’d mega cleaned my house because my men had trashed it, I found a bit of time to sit and try. Hands poised over the keyboard, I thought and wrote the word window. Then came:

A blinding red-white, red-white strobe, reflected in my brand new Wrangler’s rearview mirror, seized my attention. The police. I tossed my hands skyward, ready to surrender. I shouldn’t have been too surprised.

I liked that—a lot. So I kept picking and piddling and editing and revising and lo and behold, I had eight chapters. Ohmygolly! But what does one do with eight chapters?

I phoned my game friend and asked her to lunch. I explained what I’d done and how I felt and here you go. Panic and surprised washed over her face, but she took the disc and went home.

Two days later, she was back, returning my disc. She said two words, “Keep going.”

I was shocked. But I did. And finished. And learned. And grew. I busted boundaries I’d locked inside of me for a very long time.

When my son was small, Handsome and I had visited a secondhand bookstore because I wanted more Dick Francis mysteries. I’d just discovered him and adored his style. Handsome asked why I liked them so. I confessed my deepest desire, “I wish I could write like him.”

I don’t write like Dick Francis, mostly because I know squat about horses. I write like me—funny and packed with emotion. That is what’s in Temporarily Employed.

And with great glee, my friend is taking all the credit.


Has a friend ever prompted you to pursue a secret desire?

To read more and pre-order click here


Vicki Batman
Sassy writer of sexy and funny fiction
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1ipdLkv
http://vickibatman.blogspot.com

The Winding Path to Becoming a Writer

As with most authors, “becoming a writer” didn’t happen overnight for me. There has been a lot of patience, hard work, and unexpected twists in my life path, to get here. Now that I am here, I find being a good writer is a moving target. I’m constantly striving to improve, to stretch myself, and hone my craft.

I have always loved stories. As a child, even before I could write words, I drew pictures to make stapled, construction paper books. Once I learned to read and write, there was no stopping me. I joyfully read aloud to anyone who would listen, memorized fables and myths to retell, and began writing my own creations.

At sixteen I tried my hand at becoming a novelist. I almost finished that first one, before teenage life distracted me, and I put it away. It’s just as well, as the writing was not great. Over the following years I tried twice more. In my mid-twenties I managed to complete my first fully-realized book, an epic-fantasy adventure.

In the meantime, I got married, had a child, got divorced, went back to school as a single mom, got remarried, and became a teacher. Needless to say, there wasn’t much time in all that for writing. I managed to complete some short stories, a few of which got published in literary journals.

I enjoyed teaching art and special education both. It was a deeply satisfying career, though the writing urge still nipped at my heels. During breaks in the school year I would dabble, even starting another two novels, before realizing I just didn’t have the time to complete them. Teaching, (even more so with special needs students) is an all-consuming occupation. Especially if you love it, as I did.

Three years ago, my health gave out. It was partly a result of overworking and also being exposed to so many cold and flu bugs. I spent my last teaching year struggling against a series of viruses. This triggered an auto-immune reaction in my body. I became seriously ill, so much so I could barely get out of bed, for weeks on end. In time I was diagnosed with auto-immune thyroiditis and chronic fatigue syndrome.

With the help of an excellent specialist, (I will be grateful to her forever), I have learned how to manage my condition. I have regained a portion of my earlier health, though I still function within challenging constraints. One of the limitations is that I can no longer teach.

Giving up my work with children was painful, but I began to recognize a new path was opening. With my medical condition, I have to work at something with flexible hours, and preferably from home. It just so happens my bliss, my life-long passion, WRITING, fit the need perfectly.

Once I saw writing as a profession, rather than a hobby, things began to happen. In the fall of 2013, I sold the first book of a fantasy/romance trilogy, Dragon Clan, to The Wild Rose Press. The novel, Dragon Wife, released August 2014, and the second, Dragon Warrior should release by early 2015.

It has been an exciting time, leaping into the world of publishing, with so much to learn and so much to do. I love being able to share my stories. I have ideas for many more, and now I will have the time and means to write them. It is a blessing for which I will never stop being thankful.

Diana Green
http://www.dianagreenbooks.com

He's back in Lobster Cove....

Another Man's Son

by: Glenys O'Connell


Kathryn Morgan broke Ben Asher's heart when he returned from military service in Afghanistan to find she'd married her boss, wealthy banker Ket Morgan Jr.

Ben vowed he’d never return to Lobster Cove but now, seven years later, he is back as an undercover FBI agent sworn to expose the Morgan family’s criminal activities. Will his vow to bring down the notorious Morgans extend to the woman he still loves?

When Kathryn’s son is kidnapped, she is forced to swallow her pride and reveal the secret of another man's son. Can Ben protect Kathryn and her son from Ket and his sinister friends, or will old hurts and secrets destroy them all?

Rating: Sensual
Page Count: 180
Word Count:45900
978-1-62830-618-7    Paperback
978-1-62830-619-4      Digital

Excerpt:

He should have known she’d come to see him. Women like her treated men like something they’d wipe off the soles of their shoes. Once a man got them out from under his skin, they ran back to try and get that old itch scratched again.

He schooled his expression to show none of these thoughts as five minutes later one of the deputies, Roy Webb, showed a pale-faced Kathryn into the office. Ben thanked the deputy, then silently indicated that Kathryn should sit on one of the hard, uncomfortable visitor chairs before returning to the file he was reading. Or pretending to read—the sight of her took his breath away, and he watched her covertly from under his brows. Dark rings under her eyes accentuated her paleness. She was thinner than he remembered, dressed in an expensive designer suit in a pale oyster color that accentuated her pale skin and luminous green eyes. Her features had matured and she had developed a poise that suited her. The pretty girl he had known had become a stunningly beautiful woman.

Finally, when he could put it off no longer, Ben signed his name with a flourish, placed the paperwork back into its file, and dropped it in his out basket. He leaned back in his chair, met her direct gaze, and asked, “What can I do for you, Mrs. Morgan?”


Something flickered across her face at his tone, at the slight emphasis on her married title. She pushed back a stray lock of hair with fingers that shook a little, but her voice was even as she replied. “I’ve come to you because I need help, Ben.”

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My Desk is Where Magic Happens

My desk is nestled in a corner where my back is to the rest of the room, and I can gaze out a window. My desk is where magic happens. Every time I sit down, I escape into an unknown world and write the whisperings of my heart.

On my desk, I have reminders of the three little boys I love. The seal beanie baby is just like the one I gave my youngest nephew a couple of years ago for Christmas. He takes his everywhere, so I leave mine on my desk. Whenever I see it, I think of him. My oldest nephew gave me the green Power Ranger to put on my desk to fight writer's block. Lastly, the Green Bay Packers little football dude (my favorite team) is from my god son. These three souvenirs stay on my desk at all times!

During each holiday of the year, I get creative with my desk, so it never looks the same. I especially love to create a haunted desk for Halloween! The wall behind my desk also changes frequently. The new project I am writing is set in San Francisco, so I put up a map of California and a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge.

You may also find one of my four adopted cats sleeping between the screen and keyboard. I call them my writing buddies because they like to keep me company during my writing jaunts.

My career begins at my desk, where I am sitting right now, because this is where I can bring my dreams to life. The entire world is at my fingertips here.

Chrys Fey's eBook, Hurricane Crimes, was published by The Wild Rose Press. They will also be publishing her novella, 30 Seconds, September 10th 2014. Her flash fiction has appeared in Suspense Magazine, Freedom Fiction Journal, and Inner Sins magazine. Her blog, Write with Fey, is dedicated to helping and inspiring writers.

Blog: http://www.writewithfey.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com.chrysfey

In the questions in love and death, where does the truth lie?

Entangled Love by Cait Jarrod
Caitjarrod.com


Available on Ebook, Print, and Audio
Wild Rose Press: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/mainc ... rs_id=1172
Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00KLLIJQA
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/entangled-love
Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/entangl ... 0149385232
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/entang ... 9113?mt=11


Blurb:
Emma James is on a mission to rebuild her life after the loss of her husband. When her childhood friend offers an innocent getaway to Santa Monica, she accepts thinking fun in the sun will be a great way to start fresh.
Retired professional skateboarder, Ryan Cross is a gorgeous, lovable, ladies’ man. With two skateboard parks and a fat bank account, he’s on top of his game. What could make him happier?
The love of his childhood friend.
Chaos and life-threatening obstacles have Ryan investigating Emma’s husband's death. When he discovers handwritten notes made by her late husband, he learns some friends can't be trusted. They will stop at nothing to get what they want, including putting Emma’s life in danger.

Reviews:
“WOW, you have to read this book! Cait Jarrod holds her readers by the throat, shakes, and confuses them, and just when you THINK figure out who did it, she throws you a curveball!!”
~Amazon reviewer

“ENTANGLED LOVE is a cunning story that leads you on a thrill of a chase to see who’s deceived who, and who will end up capturing Emma’s heart. Fast paced, lots of steam, full of quirky you won’t soon forget, nor is it one you’ll be able to put down.”
~DC Stone, award winning romantic suspense author

“Cait Jarrod’s latest novel has the mandatory sexy hero, strong heroine and great action. Add witty dialogue and loveable side characters with unexpected plot twists and you have another winner. ENTANGLED LOVE is a must-read for every HEA fan in Romantic Suspense. ”
~Aubrey Wynne, author

“Cait Jarrod has created a complicated world of secrets and intrigue that will keep the reader glued to the page. As each secret reveals, the story gets more complex instead of less until everything intertwines and wraps together at the end for a satisfying conclusion. This makes for a fun beach read, keeping you guessing and invested in the characters.”
~Katie O’Sullivan, author

“This book was so well written with many surprising twists that you won’t want to put it down because you will want to find out what happens next and what new characters will show up. Entangled Love impressed me in having everything! It has action, romance, humor and drama.

The characters are extremely well developed so you can’t help but like them. I especially liked Ryan. What a guy! Not only was he attractive and successful in his business, but was kind and compassionate. Perfect! The secondary characters added a lot to the suspense but Ryan’s butler, Niles, was hysterical! I liked that not all the characters were good guys. Warren was very bad, but this, again, helped the story be so interesting.”
~Amazon reviewer

 
Interview with Ryan Cross:
Today, I’m speaking with retired skateboarder, Ryan Cross to see if he’d be willing to be the hero of my upcoming book, Entangled Love.
We agreed to meet at a quaint bar not far from his home. Rudy’s, a log building with surrounding acreage, the structure looks like it belongs in the country instead of the metropolis of Los Angeles. Several tables are full. I decide to sit at the bar.
A barrel-chested man walks over to me and places a cocktail napkin on the counter. “Hello, there.” A smile stretches across his face. The man looks more like a football player than a bartender. Despite his overwhelming size, he makes me feel welcome and lessens the nervousness I always feel before asking someone if they want to open up their life for the world to read.
“What may I get you?”
I’m thinking beer, but would wine be more appropriate? Maybe I shouldn’t drink at all? Heck, who am I kidding? I’d love a beer. “Blue Moon, thank you.”
“Put her beer on my tab. I’d like a Corona,” a baritone voice booms from behind me.
A golden-haired man with intriguing green eyes stretches out his hand. “Ryan Cross.”
The bartender, standing a few inches taller than Ryan, eyes him, nods, and walks away without responding.
I accept Ryan’s hand. “Cait Jarrod. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You, too.”
The bartender returns with the order and places the drinks in front of us before moving to help another customer, still not speaking. Odd.
“So, you want to do a story about me?”
“Yes. I’ve read about you on the internet, see that you have skateboarding parks and you do charity work.”
“Is that all you’ve read?”
I wonder if he’s referring to the multiple pictures of him with different women. “Just about, yes.”
He hesitates, so I add, “I thought you’d be the perfect hero for an upcoming book – a charming, generous athlete who gives back to his community. Perfect.”
The bartender scuffs and pushes through the swinging doors.
“Didn’t you say the story was for a romance?”
I hadn’t decided on a specific category, maybe contemporary or romantic suspense. My fingers will decide as the story develops. No matter what, the plot will be an engaging love story. “Yes, romance.”
He laughs. “You haven’t seen the photos on the internet. No woman is pictured with me twice.” He pauses, wipes his face, and swallows some beer. “Almost no one.”
I saw the images of him and a beautiful, blue-eyed blonde. She’s gorgeous enough to be an actress while having the down-home presence of being your best friend. Someone you’d instantly like.
The expression on his face stops me from inquiring more. “There’s always hope,” I say tongue and cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
He raised a hand. “No. No worries.
I cringe. The conversation isn’t going in the direction I want it to. “Yes, but I didn’t mean to imply.”
He sighed. “The thing is you’re right.”
“Then I have your permission?”
“You do. I just hope you get the story you’re after.”
I let out a breath. For a minute, I thought he’d say no. I have my next story. “Thank you.”

Releasing soon: Triple Jeopardy

Contact Info:
Webpage: caitjarrod.com
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cait-Jar ... 529?ref=hl
Facebook Profile: https://www.facebook.com/cait.jarrod
Twitter: http://twitter.com/CaitJarrod
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/69 ... ait_Jarrod
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+CaitJarrod/posts/p/pub
Email: cait.jarrod@aol.com
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/caitjarrod/

Raffle for an Entangled Love ebook August 25th-September 2nd:
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Cait Jarrod, Romance on the edge
Caitjarrod.com

Catch Me If You Can in Lobster Cove

Lobster Cove is a fictional small town on the coast of Maine. It is quaint and quirky with a colorful history, a friendly population of charming residents, and a vibrant tourist business. It is home to research scientists and small shop owners, grumpy cops and sassy chefs. Back in the day, it was a bustling fishing town and home to many immigrants, from both the state cabins and the lowest decks.

The bodies of three missing women are found in Lobster Cove. Sheriff Lynn Lawton has no leads, and not enough staff to handle the investigation.  When help arrives in the form of FBI Special Agent Jake Mackenzie, more than Lynn's job is at stake.

Jake never understood what happened between himself and Lynn fifteen years ago.  To him, it was more than a summer romance.  He loved her deeply, but she let him go to pursue his dream career in law enforcement. Now he's returned to sell his family's vacation home and cut his ties to Lobster Cove for good.

Will Lynn be able to keep him from learning the secret she's hidden from an entire town, or will Jake unwittingly leave her and their love behind a second time?


Available Now! 
Rating: Sweet
Page Count: 134
Word Count: 31900
978-1-62830-507-4   Digital

Excerpt:

Her eyes stopped on a tall, dark-haired man striding through the crowd with a confidence she remembered all too well. Her heart stopped. When he got to the rope, he lifted it, then looked at her as he came her way. Her deputy tried to stop him. When the man held up an ID, Luther stepped back.

She took a ragged breath. Her fists clenched at her side as he headed straight at her.

He couldn’t be here. Not now. Not ever. He was part of her past. He’d made sure of that.

It took him a minute to get to her. She spent every second willing her heart to still, her anger to subside. His ID was still in his hand. He was working out of the New York office, but she didn’t want him to know she knew that. Or that she looked him up at odd hours of the night when she couldn’t sleep.

“How did you manage to get this case?” she asked when he came within hearing distance.

“Lucky, I guess.”

If her heart had hammered before it was nothing compared to what it was doing now. It thundered in her chest until she could barely take a breath.

Of all the people in the world, the one she never wanted to see again stood in front of her, a polite smile frozen on his lips, questions in his deep blue eyes. He was bigger than when she knew him. Except for the few lines around his eyes, fifteen-plus years looked good on him.

She took a long silent breath. Jake Mackenzie had broken her heart years ago. How would she get through this without him uncovering more than a killer?


She broke out in a cold sweat that had nothing to do with the corpse at her feet.

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Jai Elle Mitchell: Author Spotlight - Kai Elle Wheeler

Jai Elle Mitchell: Author Spotlight - Kai Elle Wheeler: I'm going in a new direction, well for this week. On my facebook page Buy the Series , I've published several reviews. So this week,...

Character Interview with Beth Kennedy by Chrys Fey

Chrys: For this interview I will silence the pounding rains and still the gale force wind to talk to Beth Kennedy, the heroine of Hurricane Crimes.

Hurricane Sabrina is a category 5 beast, so, first, I want to see how you’re fairing, Beth.

Beth: I guess you could say I’m fairing. Considering. It is nasty outside! I don’t think my house is going to last much longer. Pine trees are falling down, and mailboxes and stop signs are being ripped out of the ground. I wish I could see outside but all of my windows are tightly boarded. For all I know, my house is the last one standing on the block!

Chrys: What did you do to prepare for the hurricane?

Beth: I boarded up all the windows, a precaution I wish I had been more liberal about, but I can’t change that now. I also stocked up on water, snacks and first-aid kit supplies, which came in handy because both of us have needed patching up.

Chrys: Um . . . both?

Beth: Oh yeah! I’m not alone anymore. I risked life and limb, literally, to save a man who may yet kill me.

Chrys: Why in the world would he kill you?

Beth: Because he probably is a murderer! And we’re trapped together. Nothing good ever comes out of being stuck with a stranger in conditions like this.

Chrys: Can you tell us about him? Whoever he is?

Beth: His name is Donovan Goldwyn. I don’t know much about him right now, but I suppose I can give you a description. He has chocolate-brown hair and violet eyes. The combination is powerful. Then when you add his great body into the mix, you have a triple threat. He’s mysterious, hot and athletic, which makes him lethal. A killer can easily disguise his dark side with good looks.

Chrys: Where is Donovan?

Beth: In the kitchen getting ice for my shoulder, so keep your voice down! He doesn’t know I’m talking to you.

Chrys: *whispers* Despite your claim that he’s dangerous, and a danger to you, it sounds like you find him attractive.

Beth: If I didn’t find him attractive, I’d question my sanity. Actually . . . since I think he’s a killer and I find him attractive maybe I should be questioning my sanity.

Chrys: Well, I guess it’s time for a change of subject. If tonight were a normal Friday night, what would you be doing?

Beth: I’d be having a cocktail with a few of my friends from my self-defense classes. They are an amazing bunch. Then I’d come home, take a bubble bath, and relax in bed while penning a poem or two about my day.

Chrys: Sounds great. And if you were on a date with a certain someone with violet eyes, what would it be like?

Beth: *squints suspiciously* I don’t like what you’re hinting at, but I’ll play along. My ideal date would be a fun beach day. Sun, salty waves and scantily-clad bodies—What more could you want when you live in Florida?

Chrys: Because I hear Donovan returning I’ll ask one last question. Do you have any regrets?

Beth: Right now, I have a ton of them! I regret not finding some way to leave Florida. I regret rescuing Donovan even though I would’ve regretted it if I didn’t. And I regret the kiss.

Chrys: Kiss. What kiss?!

Beth: Oh, no! You said the regret question would be the last one.

Chrys: And that is my current regret. Thank you for your time, Beth, and I wish you the best of luck with Hurricane Sabrina . . . and Donovan.

Beth: Thanks, I’ll need it!

Chrys Fey's eBook, Hurricane Crimes, was published by The Wild Rose Press. They will also be publishing her novella, 30 Seconds, on September 10th. Her flash fiction has appeared in Suspense Magazine, Freedom Fiction Journal, and Inner Sins magazine. Her blog, Write with Fey, is dedicated to helping and inspiring writers.

Blog: http://www.writewithfey.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com.chrysfey

A Novel Adventure by: Robena Grant

Do you like to walk the terrain of your book? To me there is nothing quite like exploring the location and setting for a novel. I like to capture the sounds, smells, and the local dialect. Come on along with me and explore the setting for my romantic suspense: Gone Tropical.

It’s the northernmost part of Queensland, Australia, or what the Aussie’s call it: Far North. If you fly into Cairns international airport you’ll then drive north to the fascinating Daintree rainforest, Cape Tribulation, and on to historic Cooktown. Go even further north you’ll get to Cape York Peninsula. This is called The Tip. It’s a stone’s throw from Papua New Guinea.

As you travel up the coast from Cairns, The Great Barrier Reef and its gorgeous islands will be to the east, inland there’s the Atherton Tableland, and further west the outback. My Aussie siblings, and my mom, stayed with me at an isolated lodge in the rainforest. It’s fabulous country where cell phones don’t often work, some roads require a 4WD, it’s hot and steamy and you’ll almost always need a hat. Insects, snakes, flies, jelly fish, stingrays, crocodiles, mosquitos, and an odd cyclone or two might stir your imagination. I know they all stirred mine. What an adventure. A perfect place to put a young American woman tracking a thieving ex-husband, and a P.I. sent to protect her.

If you’re looking for a romantic setting to warm your heart, and your toes, curl up with this romantic suspense/adventure and fall a little bit in love with Jake Turner. : ) Available as an eBook in all formats, and in print (not Jake, just the book.) http://amzn.com/B00HJE3UAC

But first, lunch:

Robena Grant
www.robenagrant.com

Welcome to Lobster Cove

Lobster Cove is a fictional small town on the coast of Maine. It is quaint and quirky with a colorful history, a friendly population of charming residents, and a vibrant tourist business. It is home to research scientists and small shop owners, grumpy cops and sassy chefs. Back in the day, it was a bustling fishing town and home to many immigrants, from both the state cabins and the lowest decks.


Our First release, Juelle's Legacy is available today.

  After an accident puts Juelle McClintock’s husband, Sebastian, in a coma, she’s left to care for her small daughter on her own—and to deal with the guilt over her plan to divorce him. When Juelle is faced with the decision of whether to remove his life support, her grief-stricken mother-in-law calls her a murderer. Matters become more complicated when Hunter McClintock arrives in town, claiming to be Sebastian’s half-brother.

Hunter McClintock is summoned from Hawaii for the reading of his father’s will—a father he never knew. Despite his qualms of dredging up bitter emotions, he goes to Lobster Cove, Maine, and walks head-first into a hornet’s nest, and a beautiful, sexy, grieving widow who is married to his half-brother.

An unexpected stipulation is revealed at the reading of the Will, and Hunter and Juelle are faced with decisions that will alter their destinies. Will Juelle’s legacy complicate her life further, or lead to the contentment and love she deserves?



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My Novel with a Twenty year Gestation period by: Gail MacMillan

I've always been fascinated by the history of my region of Northern New Brunswick. After writing two history books about the area and numerous magazine articles, I decided I had to capture the area's colorful past in fiction. I set out to tell the story of what happened to the Miramichi Valley when, in the 1840's , steamships were rapidly replacing the graceful windjammers, the construction of which was a major industry for residents. I'd barely begun my epic when I returned to 9 to 5 work to help support the family. Then I embarked on getting my university degree. And along the way, I still managed to write several hundred magazine articles and stories as well as three less ambitious romance novels.

Finally I graduated from university the same year that my eldest daughter received her degree in education. Not satisfied, I went on to do post graduate work at the University of Western Ontario in expository and narrative writing. Through it all I kept working on the labor of love that was my historical epic.

Eventually it was finished and I sent it off to an agent. She didn't reply for some time but months later sent a note saying she'd taken the novel to England because she thought a publisher there might be a fit. When it wasn't, she abandoned the manuscript. A second agent was enthusiastic at the start but eventually vanished, manuscript and all. Discouraged, I put the manuscript in a drawer.

Some years later I began working with editors at The Wild Rose Press. I mentioned my abandoned manuscript to one of them and she asked to see it. Now it had been written largely in pre-computer days so that meant I had to re-type all 150,000 words into e-mailable form. I'm nothing if not determined so I set to the task. Months and several severe edits later, my story finally appeared under the title of "Shadows of Love."

It had been twenty years start to finish and I'm not sure I'd have the stamina to do it all again. But I am happy to see finally out in the light of day.

Gail MacMillan
http://www.gailmacmillan.ca
twitter: tollerbeagle44
facebook Gail MacMillan

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Beth Kennedy’s Diary Entry by Chrys Fey

Dear whoever may find this,

I am writing in case I don’t survive. Whether I die by Hurricane Sabrina’s windy hands or by Donovan Goldwyn’s strong hands is the question, but I am not taking any chances. You see, I saved Donovan’s life, putting myself at risk, and I didn’t exactly walk away from that unscathed, but I still have my life. For now.

I was fooled by Donovan’s violet eyes, but a murderer’s eyes can be any color. There is no proof that he’s a killer, there is no proof that he’s not. And every fiber of my self-defense-instructor-being is telling me to run. RUN! But I can’t. Hurricane Sabrina is waiting for me outside, banging at the doors and windows like an intruder trying to get into my house. So I am trapped with a man who can kill me at any given moment.

And yet . . . those eyes. I look into them and I can feel them prying apart my carefully crafted walls. Donovan is handsome. He is alluring. He is intense. And we are stuck together.

Anyway, if you find this and I am dead then look at the two suspects: Hurricane Sabrina and Donovan Goldwyn.

-Beth

Hurricane Crimes Blurb:

After her car breaks down, Beth Kennedy is forced to stay in Florida, the target of Hurricane Sabrina. She stocks up supplies, boards up windows, and hunkers down to wait out the storm, but her plan unravels when she witnesses a car accident. Risking her life, she braves the winds to save the driver. Just when she believes they are safe, she finds out the man she saved could possibly be more dangerous than the severe weather.

Donovan Goldwyn only wanted to hide from the police, but the hurricane shoved his car into a tree. Now he's trapped with a beautiful woman while the evidence that can prove his innocence to a brutal crime is out there for anyone to find.

As Hurricane Sabrina wreaks havoc, Beth has no other choice but to trust Donovan to stay alive. But will she survive, or will she become another hurricane crime?

Chrys Fey
http://www.facebook.com/chrysfey
http://www.writewithfey.blogspot.com
to purchase Hurricane Crimes 

Why I Write by Kevin V Symmons

People who know I came from a successful business career often ask me this question.  The easiest way to begin is to answer in the reverse. I do not write to gain fame and riches though I would love to have a New York Times number one best-seller and the royalties and adulation it would bring. I do not write so that I can hobnob with the cool kids or the inside sanctum of the literati. I do not write so I can talk on national TV with Matt Lauer or Oprah... Don't misunderstand me all those things would be great fun and I have no lack of ego so they would admittedly be gratifying. I have had the good fortune to be successful in my pre-writing life so putting words to paper does not feed the kids or pay the mortgage. I don't write to earn a living.

So then—you're asking by now why do you spend thousands of hours brooding over a novel crafting it till you're satisfied it's a piece worthy of sending to your readers?

The answer is patently simple... I love telling stories and (hopefully) the enjoyment they bring. I always have. I am a baby-boomer and grew up on folklore of WWII so I wrote my first short story about PT boats when I was twelve. I was enough of a nerd and a mediocre athlete so I toiled over the school paper while others wore the highly coveted school letter on their jackets.

I had the great good fortune to have emotive, enthusiastic English teachers in high school and at the undergraduate collegiate level who pushed and prodded me to the limit, bless them. Life, the military, and my growing family precluded any idea of seriously pursuing writing as anything other than a pastime or part of my job, but I always joked that someday I would write a great American novel knowing it had been done more than once. 

I had the good fortune to leave my business early and low and behold though it took many false starts, rejections, and the bolstering loyalty of supportive family, friends, and fellow authors, after several years my long dormant dream became a reality when I got what's referred to in publishing as "the call!"

And though I write slowly, I've averaged about a novel a year over the last five. Three have been published, two have been Amazon best-sellers and my debut novel was a finalist in a prestigious awards competition.

So why do I continue? Well... though I haven't had that date on the Today show yet I have achieved some recognition, made so many wonderful writing friends I've lost track, helped to run a respected writing organization, and even taught creative writing at the junior college level.

And though I am not Mary Higgins Clark or John Grisham I have had my share of rewarding "fan" encounters. I could go on, but I hope you get my point. I began this journey because I loved telling my stories and somewhere along the line it seemed that those who read my work liked them, too.

Part of it is ego. Everyone who crafts a story and asks another to read it feels he/she has something worthy of telling. But much of it is simply the enjoyment of discovering that some readers out there have enjoyed our work enough that it gave them pleasure and perhaps a respite from this fast-paced, chaotic, often frustrating world.

Matt and Oprah... eat your hearts out. NY Times book editors I have not thrown in the towel but for now, I'm happy doing what I do. Perhaps we'll have a date sometime in the future...

Enjoy this spectacular summer!

Kevin V. Symmons

Author of Solo

Inspiration for Hurricane Crimes by Chrys Fey

In 2004, Hurricane Frances, with her brothers Charley and Ivan, attacked Florida one right after the other. These storms, especially Frances inspired my story, HURRICANE CRIMES. In this post, I recall my experiences with a Category 4 hurricane.

***

As Hurricane Frances inched her way to the Florida coast, a vast net of gray clouds overtook the sky. Standing on my driveway, with my hair and skirt blowing in the wind and my head tipped back, I could see the circular motion of the clouds. The wind picked up and I watched a neighbor’s forgotten trashcan go rolling down the road.

For the rest of the day, I watched Dinotopia and played dominos while I waited for the hurricane to hit. The TV would go in and out, and I remember cheering when it fought back to life. That night, the winds became so intense that the transformer in my backyard started sparking. Glowing embers rained down into the darkness below. I eyed the transformer like a ticking time bomb. Not long later, it popped with a blast of yellowish-blue light and a sheet of darkness draped over my house.

While I was sleeping, rain dropped in heavy ribbons onto the roof. Wind slammed into the boards covering the windows next to my bed, prying me out of my sleep several times, and I was always relieved to see the walls were still standing around me.

When I woke in the morning, Hurricane Frances was gone. In the light of day, which was obscured by layers of clouds, I found my neighbor’s fence flat on the ground, the roof over my porch torn, and my garage door crumpled.
I spent a week with my family without power. The temperature was high, but Hurricane Frances left behind a nice breeze. To battle the heat, I dragged my mattress to the middle of the living room and slept with all the doors and windows open to create cross-ventilation.

Days after the storm passed, my sisters and I ventured into the city where we heard FEMA was handing out supplies. Driving down deserted roads was surreal. We didn’t pass a single car on our way into the city. All the lights were down and uniformed soldiers stood at busy intersections to navigate the few cars toward the relief stations. We received MRE’s (Meals Ready to Eat) for my whole family to last a few days.

After several days, the wait for our power to be restored became unbearable. Finally, Florida Power and Light workers came to our aid almost a week after the power went out. The sun had retreated down the sky by the time the lights winked on again.

And that was the end of Hurricane Frances’ reign. She caused 49 deaths, 12 billion dollars worth of damage, and wide-spread flooding throughout Florida and North Carolina. But she also inspired a writer.

Chrys Fey
http://www.facebook.com/chrysfey
http://www.writewithfey.blogspot.com

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The Beauty of Scotland

When Neely Powell (Leigh Neely and Jan Powell) began writing True Nature, I (Leigh) was fortunate enough to visit her son's family in Scotland. Due to the birth of her granddaughter and the subsequent birth of her grandson, she spent a total of four months in and around the area of Giffnock, just a little ways from Edinburgh.

It really is a culture shock to live away from America. Grocery stores are different, the number of incredibly old buildings just boggles the mind, and the value of learning the history of where you are seemed enhanced.

I loved Giffnock. I became accustomed to walking everywhere, something I'd never done in America. There were times, however, when I did have to ask my sweet daughter-in-law to let me sit a while between going to the post office, the grocery store, and the local park. Unfortunately, I did not continue my walking once I returned home.

Giffnock looks much like a village of old, with its beautiful stone buildings and narrow streets. I didn't drive while over there. I was sure I'd forget which side of the road I should be on and cause an accident. My son and his wife have adapted well and since leaving Scotland, have lived in Dublin and are now in London. It makes for wonderful vacations and give us opportunities to get to know places in the UK, not just visit them.

At any rate, Giffnock plays a significant role in the story of True Nature. The family of shape shifters the story focuses on are from this area and have a long and colorful Scottish history that includes a battle between clans.

Here's an excerpt:

My thoughts went back to the little kitchen in the cottage where Hunter and I stayed. We were there for two months, in the countryside between Glasgow and Edinburgh. It was close enough to town to have fun and had enough land attached to give Hunter a place to roam free and work out the kinks of shapeshifting.

We were looked after that summer by two of the MacRae family’s devoted employees. Tall, spare Robert McPhee had once been the right hand man of Hunter’s grandfather and great-grandfather. Though his face was seamed with age, he didn’t miss a beat. He knew where Hunter and I were at all times, and had even shown up a time or two unexpectedly, both in the city and out in the countryside.

It was eerie, I remembered. It was as if he had a special ability where Hunter was concerned. Robert’s wife, Molly, was as short and round he was tall and thin. Though as ancient as he was, she kept the cottage sparkling and the scent of delicious savories and sweets coming from the kitchen. That trip was one of my best summer vacations.

The beautiful countryside of Scotland seemed the perfect setting for the home of shape shifters and dysfunctional psychics! Read True Nature for their story!

Please visit us on all our sites:
www.neelypowell.com
www.neelypower.wordpress.com
www.facebook.com/NeelyPowellAuthor
www.twitter.com/neelypowell3

What’s in a name?

Didn’t some sage on the 16^th Century say, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”… perhaps, but would it be as enticing, as interesting?

How would we view romantic fiction’s most popular and notorious heroine were her name Maude instead of Scarlett O’Hara. And what if her long-suffering suitor was named Joe instead of Rhett Butler would he have garnered the same swashbuckling bravado in our imaginations. And this works not only for the bold, the driven, and the beautiful. Let’s try and imagine a dark-hearted, morose old man named Fred instead of Ebenezer Scrooge… not quite the same. And what about Alexandria Eyre? Somehow we find it hard to imagine Charlotte Bronte’s stubborn, small, plain heroine with such an illustrious name.

No, without a doubt, character names have a vital place in both historical and contemporary literature. How often do I here the ladies swoon when the name “Ranger” is mentioned in association with heroine Stephanie Plum. Somehow if Ms. Ivanovich had named him Bob the macho element would definitely be lacking.

Convinced yet. Great!

We authors resort to a wide variety of devices, formulas, and even tricks to try to give their characters names their reading audience will remember. I’ve never subscribed to one of the many services that offer names for sale. I have friends who do. Others search the news media. Some resort to the obituaries searching for names. My best writing friend seeks names that are not only distinctive but give an exotic flavor to her characters. I admit I’m more a grass roots type. I give my characters names that I (and my beta readers) find appropriate not through formula or science but by the touch and feel method.  

My debut novel featured a heroine named Courtney (Definition: of the court) who was the embodiment of a one-thousand year old Wiccan Goddess. Her heroine was named Robert… a strong masculine name. I intentionally abbreviated his proper name by having his intimates call him Robbie, an indication of his naïveté and relative immaturity, at least when compared with his beautiful but ancient heroine. The other strongest character was Simon, an all powerful male witch who embodied both the mystery and strength contained in his name.

My latest novel features Eric, a strong monosyllabic name (definition: one strong who rules) suited for my strong, Special Forces veteran hero and Ashley-Jean (definition: one who sees, which we discover she is), a brilliant, technology savant; a frightened young woman seeking refuge from the evil that pursues her. As a young, southern woman the name seemed to fit perfectly and my test readers agreed.

 

Which brings up another point: the name must not only lend a visual to the character’s image in the readers mind but must symbolize their place in the story.

In a few hundred words it’s difficult to give a thorough explanation of how and why we authors chose certain methods and different strategies to breathe life into our characters not only with their thoughts and deeds but by what we call them.

I welcome input from readers and fellow authors alike why and how you choose to name your characters. Until next time…

Kevin Symmons is a successful author, college faculty member, and president of one of the Northeast's most respected writing organizations. His paranormal novel, "Rite of Passage", was a 2013 RomCon Reader's Crown Award finalist and has been an Amazon Best Seller. "Out of the Storm", a contemporary romantic thriller set on Cape Cod, is has gathered numerous 5 star reviews and will keep you turning pages late into the night. His novel "Solo", is a sweeping women's fiction work that exposes the tragedy of domestic violence in America, will be released from his award-winning publisher, the Wild Rose Press, in 2014. Kevin has collaborated with award-winning Boston screenwriter and playwright Barry Brodsky in adapting one of his story ideas for the screen. He is a sought after public speaker who has appeared across New England. Visit Kevin and like his FB Author Page, @KevinSymmons on Twitter, at Goodreads, Amazon, and at his website, www.ksymmons.com

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My Corner Office - Eve Dew Crook

I admire people who can write with music playing. I’d find it distracting, for I’d be humming the tune before I knew it. I’m a concentrator. (If there is such a word....) My little office was once a dinette off the kitchen. It’s small, but I have a glass door on one side and a window in front of my computer, so I don’t feel closed in. What the picture doesn’t show, behind me, is a large closet that houses my washer and dryer—and that clackety clack music is often my background.

My favorite time to write is all morning, but if I’m caught up in a scene that’s working, I’ll keep going through half the afternoon. After that my brain usually turns off. It’s the pattern I followed for Taking the Tumble, published last year by TWRP, and my new novel, with the working title of Peril Passion, Peru. (I do love alliteration, but I’ll happily settle for any better title someone dreams up!) 

Eve Dew Crook, author of Taking the Tumble published by TWRP, shows her office bulletin board with computer on left, 

printer on right. Photo is her son, sculpture photos are her husband's work. The button in the upper left corner reads, "I 

have abandoned my search for truth and am now looking for a good fantasy."