Elizabeth Delisi's Blog, page 12

Guest Blogger Erika Gardner

Thanks so much to my fellow authors from Tirgearr Publishing for giving us each the opportunity to guest on their blogs. It’s been a pleasure to discover more about Elizabeth Delisi, Troy Lambert, and Kristi Ahlers during this process.As you have likely realized over the past few days- our Press is having a birthday, their fifth, in fact! So to celebrate authors are discounting their books for a few precious days, February 26th through the 29th. Each our books will be available for just 0.99. That’s unreal to me. That means you could my book, The Dragon in The Garden, twenty times for the same price as a typical hardback. What a wonderful time to be a reader!It’s a wonderful time to be a writer as well. While, traditional publishing is struggling, people ARE reading more than ever. They are simply doing it in new ways. The trick is to figure out how to capitalize on those ways in such a manner as to make a living wage at this business. I’ll let you know if I ever figure that part out. Still, with computers our work is faster and easier, while the digital age offers a myriad of new formats in which to distribute and market our work. The Dragon in The Garden is my first published novel and is included in the Tirgearr Super Sale! Here’s a bit about it:
There is magic beneath the mundane and in The Dragon in the Garden, Siobhan Orsini witnesses it all. No lie can fool her, no glamour or illusion can cloud her Sight. She sees through them all and wishes she could close her eyes. Returning to face her past, Siobhan inherits her grandparents’ house in California’s wine country. She encounters a talking dragon, a hot fallen angel, a demon lord, a Valkyrie, and, oh yes, her ex-boyfriend. And that is just in the first twenty-four hours. 

It’s time to find out why she has this power. 

Siobhan seeks out the Oracle and learns that only her Sight can help mankind navigate the travails of an ancient war. Our world is the prize in a battle between the dragons, who would defend us, and Lucifer’s fallen angels, who seek to take the Earth for themselves. Using her gift, she will have to make a choice that will decide humanity’s future.http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Gardner_Erika/the-dragon-in-the-garden.htm [image error]Please enjoy this excerpt from The Dragon in The Garden. Happy Anniversary Sale!!!
I woke filled with the dreadful certainty that I was not alone. Blinking, I tried to see around me. In the faint light, I discerned the shape of a man sitting in a chair by the window. I started to cry out when I realized a faint, growing luminosity filled the room. It came from me. I glowed with a silvery light. A slender illuminated cord came off me, traveling upward. Pulses of energy flowed along the cord away from my body, leaving me drained and weak. Movement seemed incredibly difficult, impossible. As my eyes followed the shining strand aloft, I saw in sick horror that some kind of creature hovered above me.I couldn’t figure out at first if this dreadful phantasm actually lived. Fragile, paper-like skin covered its skeletal frame. She? He? I couldn’t say, but the thing’s emaciation made it difficult to tell if skin actually covered those bones. The thing appeared all cheekbones, its features shrunken and shriveled. The being possessed wild, wispy hair so white it shone in the shimmering glow projected from my body. The strands floated in all directions around the apparition as did its robes, more rags than clothing. I was grateful for anything shrouding any part of the wraith-like figure. I’ll never, for all my days, be able to explain the dread radiating from its presence. The sensation came from the thing’s eyes. They burned with an electric red, yet, this flame burned in a cold fire, devoid of any warmth or compassion. Though it wore a humanoid form, nothing remotely human emanated from it. I drew in breath to scream for Daisy, Turel, anyone. More than anything I wanted to call for help, to be as loud as possible. Instead, I whimpered. No other sound came. The thing turned its withered head to the man in the chair. “Abraxas, it speaks. Never do they talk.”“That’s because they usually don’t wake up and even if they did, they couldn’t see you,” explained the man named Abraxas. “This one is special.”“Yes,” it rasped. “I see it is. I like it, so delicious, my ducky.” The thing’s voice rasped as thin and emaciated as its form. The death rattle sound of those words conjured nightmares from the dark corners of my mind, places where nameless terrors lurked, and my fears scurried like beetles under a rock. The faint smell of death and decay clung to the air around us.“What are you?” I managed to whisper. My voice sounded faint, a breath, nothing more.The thing floating over me cackled, an insane, evil sound. “Now it speaks to me. I love its fear. See it? So pretty, wants to run and hide, but can barely move.” It drifted an inch or two closer to me and I cringed, but couldn’t look away; its hellish eyes consumed me. “Soon it will never move again. Never, ever move, little pig.”Abraxas snorted at the creature. “Why the pet names, Hag?”The nightmare above me reached out with one bony finger as though to tap my face. Locked inside my head, I became a screaming, gibbering thing, beyond rational thought. It didn’t touch me though; it moved the finger back and forth as though conducting an invisible orchestra, its blood-red eyes burning into me. “It is food for me. I am calling it food names it understands, so it will know, it will suffer. Going to eat you, pretty lamb, eat you up.” It made a slithering noise, a slurping sound.I strained again to scream, but only mustered a gasp. “Why? What are you?” Speech grew even more difficult. The draining left me a shadow of myself. So tired, so very tired.Abraxas shifted in his chair and fumbled around in his pockets. The faint flick of a lighter registered and then came a small flame as he lit a cigar. As he puffed furiously I had my first glimpse of his face and shuddered. Abraxas wasn’t human.I’d lay odds he looked human to anyone else gazing upon him. However, to my eyes, even weakened, I saw the clever-faced demonic visage peering out from under the sharply dressed businessman exterior. It was as if he wore a people suit. He smiled at me with wickedly pointed teeth. Abraxas puffed on the cigar and remarked in a matter-of-fact voice, “You should save your strength. I have already answered your question.”“Yes,” hissed the creature above me. “Save for me, all of you for me.”I made my lips move. “No, you didn’t.”The sound came out so softly, I didn’t know if I said it out loud, but Abraxas heard me anyway. His eyebrows flipped up in surprise. He leaned forward, exposing short, pointy horns on his head like a goat, or to more accurate, like a devil. He puffed his cigar. “Certainly, I answered you, she’s a Hag.”“Hag,” agreed the terrifying vision above me. “Riding you, taking you, soon all gone.”Abraxas shrugged. “She calls it riding, I say eating. She’s draining your life force, your will to live.”“And fear, Abraxas, fear and hope. I take them all, yes, ducky.”Abraxas crossed and re-crossed his legs in an impatient gesture. “Get on with it. We need to finish before Turiel returns. I don’t want to be meat for that tiger.”The Hag snarled at him, “No rush me.”“Oh fine, have it your way,” Abraxas grumbled, glancing at his watch. He smiled a nasty grin. “Just think, Watcher, if you had left a broomstick by your bed, folklore says she’d have been forced to ride away on it, instead of riding your spirit. A broomstick, isn’t that the craziest thing you’ve ever heard?” He chuckled, an evil sound, and shook his head. “You can’t make this shit up, I tell you.”The Hag exhaled in a quivering, rattling way. The sound created images of broken body parts and decomposing flesh rolling through my mind as I shuddered again in pain and fear. She commanded Abraxas, saying, “We go now. No nasty angel and I take little lamb with me. I drain her slowly, play with her forever.” Her eyes burned like two pits of hellish fire as she examined me again. “So special, so delicious, little piggy.”“No, the Black God wants this finished before Gwyrdd can find a way back to this world. I didn’t hire you for playtime,” snapped Abraxas. “Finish and let’s get out of here.”“No broomsticks,” said the Hag. “Bad Abraxas.”He held up his hands. “Right, no broomsticks. Just hurry up.”“Poor ducky,” said the Hag, gloating.Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered in a drifting way a program I had once seen on television. It was a wildlife show, one of those safari ones. Some lions ambushed a zebra and began to eat the poor animal before it even died. I remember being shocked at the way the zebra lay there, waiting to die, waiting to lose enough blood to bring on oblivion. I was the zebra now. My body grew colder. It no longer seemed important enough or worth the effort to be terrified, although the Hag looked even more frightening now as she fed on me. The more of my life force she consumed, the brighter she burned luminescent, as I faded. As she devoured me, she became more substantial. The faint odor of an open rotting grave became a ripe, overwhelming stench. If I could have gagged, I would have. All thoughts of escape, of curiosity, vanished as I waited for the end. The Hag smiled, showing rotten, yellow bits of teeth, her evil, red eyes danced. In her deathly voice she said, “Good chickie. Good. Never moves again. No, it doesn’t want to. It belongs to me. Mine.” Something stirred in me at that moment. I didn’t belong to her. I belonged to me. No one else got to decide who I was or who I belonged to. I spent my whole life hanging on to my sense of self. No one else, not even a supernatural Hag sucking out my life force, and killing me in my own bed got to take that away from me. If ten different psychiatrists and more prescriptions than I could count hadn’t changed my mind, then I’d be damned if I’d let her decide for me.There in the darkness, with my glimmer disappearing and a chill enveloping my limbs, I found a small spark inside of me, a stubborn iota of will. I searched my mind, seeking some way out. Then I did the only thing I had left, the only recourse still in my power. I prayed.I didn’t pray to God. At the time, I don’t think it ever even crossed my mind to pray to Him. I didn’t have the strength of Tim’s quiet faith. Still, I knew who I needed. I prayed to Turel, only this time I called him Turiel. I prayed to him, partly in my heart, partly through lips like ice; lips gone numb. I prayed with fervor, hanging on to the spark even as I grew still colder, darker, and the Hag above me glowed in stolen radiance.My breath slowed, and I fought for each inhalation. Each heartbeat echoed through the room. That, too, slowed. My world reduced to these things: breathing and my heartbeat. Still my frozen lips moved and my spark of will pushed my prayers out into the universe. With my vision blurred as Abraxas regarded his cigar from his chair. He tapped his foot, frowning at us. The Hag tilted her head in a gesture that in her hideousness suggested a caricature of a human’s movement. She seemed puzzled. “It is saying something, Abraxas. This I do not understand. What does my duck say?” She leaned closer and the stench of death and decay enveloped me. Still I prayed. “What is it?” asked Abraxas, impatient.The withered Hag tilted her head. “I do not remember the word for what it does. It is asking for help,” she answered. “It does not know no help will come? What a strange lamb it is.” She shrugged her now much more substantial shoulders, her hideous features twisting in concentration. “Ah, Abraxas,” she continued in her gruesome voice, “I remember the word. My piggy prays.”Abraxas sprang to his feet in alarm. “She prays? To whom?”CRACK!A bolt of lightning exploding in the small room blinded my eyes. Turel appeared in its flash, his face drawn in a snarl, glorious wings extended. Sunlight, beautiful, sweet sunlight, filled my night shrouded bedroom. Turel took one look at me and the Hag over me. “She prays to me,” he roared. His arm drew back in a graceful arc and a second bolt of lightning shot toward me.
To purchase The Dragon in The Garden please see:

http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Gardner_Erika/the-dragon-in-the-garden.htm
[image error]This post was written by Erika Gardner. She’s a native Californian, lifelong lover of fantastical adventures, and a dedicated Whovian.  If you enjoyed it, please sign up to receive updates on www.erikagardner.com  Or you can follow Erika on Twitter @Erika_Gardner, “Like” her Facebook page Erika Gardner- Writer and Storyteller. Or check out her contributions to the BBB Blog .

Guest Blogger Troy Lambert

The Good ShepherdHi there. My thriller, Stray Ally is on special this week. It has been a helluva year, but the sequel, Good Shepherd, is nearing completion. And you, dear reader, on the Anniversary of Tirgearr Publishing, when you can get Stray Ally here(if you have not read it yet) for .99 this entire weekend, get a sneak peek. Here is an excerpt from the beginning of Good Shepherd. Enjoy, and check out the rest of the great books on sale this weekend at Tirgearr by visiting the sale page.
Excerpt, Good Shepherd
He brought his rifle up now, not aiming for the men in front, but the ones behind them, the ones with the rifles, while staying in a prone position, making himself as small a target as possible.He fired a single shot, and one of the two men’s head exploded, sending blood and bone spattering over the others.
“Shit!” the second said, and swung his rifle around.
Before Rick could get off a second shot, something hit him in the shoulder, pushing him backwards.
“Jesus, go! Go!” One of the men was clearly aggravated with the driver, apparently not realizing the gate remained shut.
“I can’t!” came back.
One of the men holding the odd weapons jumped down and ran into the guard shack. Rick tried to bring his rifle around, but his right shoulder was useless. He felt really warm.
He heard the gate begin to roll open. He could only hope his call earlier alerted the others.The dogs lay ahead of him, each with a pink tipped dart sticking from their sides. Both were breathing, their sides moved up and down.
As the truck rolled through the gate, Rick heard gunfire.
Good. The others were defending themselves.
He tried to get up, but fell back onto his face. His arm could not support any weight.Instead he crawled to a place beside the dogs, encircling one with his arm.
“Shh, shh. It will be okay, he told them.
With no idea if it would or not, he closed his eyes, unable to hang on to consciousness.
 * * *
Troy Lambert is a blogger, author, and editor living, working, and playing in Boise, Idaho. He is a cyclist, skier, hiker, camper, and terrible beginning golfer who loves spending time with his son, his fiancé, and their two very talented dogs. You can find him on his website, his blogs at contently, on Facebookand Twitter.
Stray Ally starts with a strange accident on the freeway, accusations of murder, and an encounter in the Idaho wilderness which all propel Todd Clarke into a new friendship with a dog named Sparky. But Sparky is no ordinary dog, and there is more going on than Clarke could have imagined.

A military commander he investigated for Aryan activity and links to domestic terrorism is after him, and he’s not sure why until another chance encounter provides the answer.With Sparky and the help of his canine friends, will he be able to figure out the Colonel’s plan and stop him in time? All Clarke knows for sure is none of it would be possible without the help of his Stray Ally.
On sale for .99 on Amazon, and is available at all of these online retailers.Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00IRFVC98/Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00IRFVC98Nook http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/stray-ally-troy-lambert/1118892709Apple http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/isbn9781310743665Kobo https://store.kobobooks.com/search?Query=9781310743665Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/414985

Guest Blogger Kristi Ahlers

Please help me welcome guest blogger and Tirgearr Publishing author Kristi Ahlers. Here's her post...enjoy! IT’S OUR BIRTHDAY!
It’s hard to believe that Tirgearr Publishing is getting ready to celebrate its 4thbirthday! And as a gift to you, my titles will be discounted. Check out my backlist! I promise there is something for everyone.
I’ve long had a love affair with Paris. There is simply something about this city that calls to me. When I lived in Belgium, I spent so many weekends in this amazing city. In fact, the last summer we lived there, I spent each weekend there. Yes, each weekend. You don’t know living until you’ve had brie and baguette, and until you’ve done so in Paris. Yes, it tastes better there.
I’m also all about trivia, so here is a little trivia about one of my favorite places on earth!
1.      The Eiffel Tower is approx. 300-350 mm high2.      Musée du Louvre started off as a fortress3.      The Arc de Triomphe is the final resting place of their Tomb of the Unknown Soldier4.      Pantheon is the final resting place of Voltaire and Victor Hugo5.      Palais Garnier is the opera house Phantom of the Opera is based on6.      Jardin des Tuileries was once the site of a Tile Pit7.      Tourists have been touring the sewers of Paris since 1858, thanks to Victor Hugo

Check out my duet, THE TROUBLE WITH PARIS
This collection includes my novellas The Trouble with French Kisses and The Trouble with Pilots.
The Trouble with French KissesWho knew that a country with a kiss named after it would consider it illegal to share one.When Hannah Walsh finds herself being held in a French police station after sharing a passionate kiss with the handsome Damien Jacques, will she be able to ignore her reawakened desires?
Damien must come to terms with the fact that vivacious Hannah has changed the man he thought he was. Born of aristocratic lineage and heir to the award-winning Jacque Vineyards, and descended from French kings, his life as a notorious playboy is about to be put to the test.
Hannah can't ignore the passion that has sprung up between her and Damien, but is passion enough to bridge the cultural gap of differences between them?
Will they find their happy ending after all?
The Trouble with PilotsWedding dress designer Sarah Harper's best friend is getting married and Sophie has been asked to design the dress. When she discovers it means getting on a plane for Paris, all her flying fears spring to life. But this is for her best friend, Hannah, and the notoriety of designing a dress for the bride of one of France's nobility is an opportunity Sarah can't pass up. Even if it means sitting beside an off-duty pilot. Sophie swore off pilots when she left her ex, but her seatmate's touch and spicy scent makes her forget all about the flight, and her promise. She blames the medication her doctor gave her and her naughty dreams on what happens just before landing. Could she be any more mortified?
Trey Chasen is finally taking some well-deserved time off and uses his friend's engagement as an excuse to see Paris. At first, Trey lamented the loss of another jet-setter to the arms of a good woman, but he soon feels something is missing in his own life. When he meets his seatmate on the flight to Paris, his interest is instantly sparked, yet not in a way he's used to. Using her fear of flying as an excuse to soothe her, he discovers he wants to get to know this pixie of a woman better. He just didn't expect it would be so soon, or during the flight.
When the two realize their destinations are the same, it's Hannah and Damien who set Sarah and Trey straight about the important things in life. Can Sarah put aside her trouble with pilots to find love? Trey likes is a challenge, and before Sarah returns to the States, he's going to make sure he proves to her that pilots aren't trouble but worth loving.
* * *
Kristi Ahlers is a flight attendant and a true romantic at heart. You can find her on the web at the following locations:   https://www.facebook.com/Kristi-Ahlers-Author
http://kristiahlers.blogspot.com/https://www.kristiahlers.com

Lottie Baldwin Mystery Series On Sale

From today through Monday, February 26-29, Tirgearr Publishing is celebrating its 4th anniversary with a special 99-cent sale. Included in this sale are the first three books in my Lottie Baldwin Mystery series: FATAL FORTUNE, OBSERVANT ORACLE, and MISTLETOE MEDIUM. 
To celebrate this sale, three Tirgearr authors and I are trading guest blogs for the length of the sale. Today is my day to tell you a little about Lottie, and about me. For more info on these or any of my books, please visit my Tirgearr page: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Delisi_Elizabeth/index.htm  Here's my answer to a few questions.
Tell us a little about yourself, and what inspired you to become a writer.
I’ve always enjoyed reading, and have wanted to be a writer since I was in first grade. After many years of expressing my quirky imagination and being told I was eccentric at the least, it was a natural step to become a writer. I love having the opportunity to share the stories in my head with others. There’s not much better in life than a good read! And there’s no thrill like someone saying, “I loved your book.”
 Tell us what FATAL FORTUNE is about.
FATAL FORTUNE, the first book in the Lottie Baldwin mystery series, is a mystery with a touch of the paranormal. No one in Cheyenne, ND believes in Lottie Baldwin’s psychic abilities; especially not Harlan Erikson, Lottie’s boyfriend, and Chief Deputy in the Sheriff’s Office. When a friend’s husband disappears, Lottie can’t leave it to Harlan. Armed with her courage and her tarot cards, she tries to solve the mystery herself, regardless of who attempts to stop her: Harlan, her friend—or the criminal.
If you were casting the movie version of FATAL FORTUNE, who would you choose for the leading roles?
Lottie would be played by a young Joan Blondell. She looks the part, and would be a perfect fit for sassy, independent Lottie.   Harlan would be played by a young Robert Redford. He’s got a great sense of humor, and has no trouble being strong when it counts.  Tell us about a hidden talent you have that most people don’t know about.
I know how to tat, which seems to be—alas—a lost art. I also know how to do card-weaving (another nearly lost art), and my husband and I built an inkle loom for weaving.
What’s your favorite comfort food?
Chocolate anything, of course! No contest. Current favorite: Almond Roca. Yum! I also have a fondness for Sky Bars, which I remember from my childhood. Hard to find now. They’re like a Whitman’s Sampler in a candy bar, with four different flavors.
Are you an outliner or do you write by the seat of your pants?
I outline before I write. I’ve tried just winging it, but I feel too uneasy if I have no idea where I’m going. Outlines don’t constrict me, as I feel free to change and adapt them as I write. If I come up with a better idea for a particular scene, I change the outline to match. That allows me to keep track of all the loose threads, and make sure everything still works.
What’s your favorite season and why?
I love all the seasons, and am happy to live in a state with four distinct seasons. Here in beautiful New Hampshire, I’d have to choose fall as my favorite—early fall. With all the gorgeous leaves in shades of red, scarlet, orange and gold, apple picking and cider everywhere, crisp nights and mild days, I’m in a constant state of wonder.
If you weren’t a writer, what would you be?
Tough question. I think I’d probably own a combination book store/yarn store/coffee shop. Just the kind of store where I’d like to shop myself! Anyone know of one for sale in New Hampshire?
Tell us about anyone famous you’ve met.
Ooh, let’s see. I met Captain Seawhiskers when I was five years old and got to be on the show. I’ve met Jim Nabors, Gary Puckett, Kathleen Sibelius and Bill Graves (both Kansas governors), and Peter Noone. My most recent meet: Steve Smith, a.k.a. Red Green, from the hilarious PBS show, “The Red Green Show.”
What’s your favorite non-writing-related website?
Definitely Ravelry, for yarn lovers: www.ravelry.com and Aeclectic Tarot for all things tarot: http://www.aeclectic.net/tarot/

Anniversary Sale

On Leap Day, February 29, Tirgearr Publishing will celebrate its fourth anniversary. So from Feb. 26-29, there will be a special sale on many of its books—99 cents! You can’t beat that.
And each day from Feb. 26-29, one of four different Tirgearr authors will guest-post on all four blogs. Here's the schedule:

Feb. 26: Elizabeth Delisi posts,  http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Delisi_Elizabeth/index.htm
Feb. 27: Kristi Ahlers posts, http://kristiahlers.blogspot.com/
Feb. 28: Troy Lambert posts, https://troylambert.contently.com/
Feb. 29: Erika Gardner posts, http://erikagardner.com/
You'll find out a lot about authors you know, and those you don't. Check it out! At the sale price of 99 cents, you can't go wrong.

Tirgearr Publishing 4th Anniversary Sale!

On Leap Day, February 29, Tirgearr Publishing will celebrate its fourth anniversary with a special sale on many of its books—99 cents! You can’t beat that.
Each day from Feb. 26-29, a different Tirgearr author will guest-post on each other’s blogs. It’ll be a good opportunity to find new authors without a large investment of time or money. And you just may be amused and entertained along the way.
The participating authors in this blog hop are Kristi Ahlers, Troy Lambert, Erika Gardner, and of course, yours truly, Elizabeth Delisi. Check them all out!
Get started here on my Tirgearr author page: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Delisi_Elizabeth/index.htm 
Happy shopping!

Erika Gardner, Author and Guest Blogger

My guest blogger today is Erika Gardner, author of THE DRAGON IN THE GARDEN, published by Tirgearr Publishing. Here is Erika's fascinating take on how she--and other authors--choose their genre. Or do they choose it?


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You Don’t Get To Pick The Genre… The Genre Picks You- Sort of Like a Stray Cat
I love books. I unabashedly, unapologetically adore them. I delight in reading them, dreaming tall tales up, and then writing them down. Stories make me happy and if you are following the lovely Elizabeth’s blog I am guessing it is the same for you. At least the reading part anyway.
Liz writes in some of my favorite genres. The sweep and happy ending of a good romance or the satisfaction of a mystery unraveled just right are the elements that make me curl up on the couch, cup of tea by my side and a book in my lap. They are also two of the reasons that my house appears to have been built of books. My poor husband has given up on building me any more book shelves.
My very favorite genre is fantasy. Not surprisingly, this is what I write. I have frequently had well-meaning friends bound up to me and say, “I have a great idea for your next book!” or “You should write a *insert genre here*.” It doesn’t work that way. Liz would likely back me up. My story telling voice simply won’t do romance, or cozy mystery, or thriller. There is a remote possibility that I could write a ghost story, but then, ghosts fit in quite nicely with my usual fare: wizards, phoenixes, sirens, a chupacabra or two, you get the idea. My novel The Dragon in The Garden contains a dragon (obviously), fallen angels, fairies, demons, a Valkyrie, even some gryphons- just your basic Erika day at the office.
This book started out a children’s book. I had intended it to be middle grade. This lovely idea came to me. A little girl wandering her grandmother’s garden, touching the various garden statues, smelling the flowers until she realizes that there is one statue that is special. It is not a simple figure made of stone; it is a dragon in hiding. I’ve included a picture of the actual figurine that inspired the book. The child, named Siobhan, calls the dragon Daisy and they become friends. Siobhan has a talent, no magical powers, just a special ability. She can see the absolute truth. She sees through lies, illusions, even spells. 
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Sounds like it could be a children’s book, right? Kind of sweet, even, right? Yeah, that would be a resounding no. A hot fallen angel crept into the mix, then a love interest (also a hot fallen angel) and an even hotter King of the Fey. I found myself shaking my head at my computer saying, “Um, I am not a children’s writer.” My understanding is that middle grade publishers frown on sex scenes. Not to mention the violence in the epic battle near the book’s culmination.
Here’s a bit about the book as it ended up being written, the way it wanted to be written:
There is magic beneath the mundane and in The Dragon in the Garden, Siobhan Orsini witnesses it all. No lie can fool her, no glamour or illusion can cloud her Sight. She sees through them all and wishes she could close her eyes. Returning to face her past, Siobhan inherits her grandparents’ house in California’s wine country. She encounters a talking dragon, a hot fallen angel, a demon lord, a Valkyrie, and, oh yes, her ex-boyfriend. And that is just in the first twenty-four hours. 

It’s time to find out why she has this power. 

Siobhan seeks out the Oracle and learns that only her Sight can help mankind navigate the travails of an ancient war. Our world is the prize in a battle between the dragons, who would defend us, and Lucifer’s fallen angels, who seek to take the Earth for themselves. Using her gift, she will have to make a choice that will decide humanity’s future.
To purchase The Dragon in The Garden please see:

http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Gardner_Erika/thedragon-in-the-garden.htm
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This post was written by Erika Gardner. She’s a native Californian, lifelong lover of fantastical adventures, and a dedicated Whovian.  If you enjoyed it, please sign up to receive updates on www.erikagardner.com   Or you can follow Erika on Twitter @Erika_Gardner, “Like” her Facebook page Erika Gardner- Writer and Storyteller. Or check out her contributions to the BBB Blog .

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Teaching Creativity & Expression

I'll be teaching a session of "Creativity and Expression" for Writer's Digest University, starting Thursday, Feb. 18. Here's the description:

Are you a beginner writer? Do you want to put pen to paper but have a case of writer’s block? Learn creative writing techniques to launch your writing and transform your ideas into your next story.

When you take this online workshop, you’ll explore creative writing topics and learn how descriptive writing can breathe life into your characters, setting, and plot with Rebecca McClanahan’s Word Painting. Stretch your imagination, develop your creative writing skills, and express your creativity with this writing workshop. To sign up or for more info, go here:

https://www.writersonlineworkshops.com/courses/creativity-expression

Hope to see you there. And a very Happy Valentine's Day to all!

How cold is it?

Make you think of anything? Yup, it's coooolddd here!

THE FINAL STRAIGHT by Charlotte Howard

Check out THE FINAL STRAIGHT, the latest from Charlotte Howard. Pre-order your copy today! THE FINAL STRAIGHT

Blurb:

April Miller works for her best friend, Max Knight, on his livery and competition yard. Their friendship has withstood many turbulent times, and while April is deeply in love with Max, she is also aware of his womanizing ways and has refused to succumb to his flirtatious charms. When her ex, AJ, suddenly comes back with a business proposal, April finds herself torn between the two men.

Buy Links:

Currently available for pre-order:

Kindle US: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00S...

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Excerpt:

“You up there?” she called. The thud of footsteps grew louder as she made her way up the stairs. It wasn’t long before she was in the doorway, hands on hips, surrounded by a halo of curls the same colour as her temper.

The dog had followed and was panting by her leg. April batted her away, and Max rolled his eyes at the anger and frustration that exuded from her every pore, turning his back on her and dropping the towel.

“What the hell, Max?” she exclaimed, but it wasn’t because of his nudity. She’d seen him naked more times than any other woman.

He stepped into a pair of tight boxer shorts and turned around, preparing himself for the grief he had been hoping to avoid.

“What have I done now?” he asked, walking towards the wardrobe and pulling out a pair of dark, shredded jeans.

“What’s the point? Do you even remember her name?”

He didn’t answer. She wasn’t expecting him to; she never did. Fastening the button on his waistband, he went to the chest of drawers and took out a clean T-shirt.

“Well, I’ll tell you what her name was,” April said, walking into the room. “Mellie Banks. Ring a bell?”

Max shrugged.

“It should,” she snapped. “Her father has three horses on this yard, or did until he turned up this morning and took them off.”

He moved behind her and started to massage at the knot of tension that had built at the base of her neck.

“Don’t try to appease me, Max,” she said, but he could tell that her anger was waning. He continued to press into her muscles, letting his thumbs make small circles either side of her spine. Bending his head to the curve of her shoulder, he placed his forehead on the sleeve of her polo T-shirt and took a deep breath, inhaling the dusty scent of straw and shavings.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her back.

She shrugged out of his touch and turned to face him. “You’re hopeless,” she sighed. The corners of her lips flickered into the smallest of smiles.

“We could just hide in bed all day,” he said, taking her hands and tugging her forwards. “Forget about Mellie Banks. Forget about the yard…”

“And who’s going to pay my bills when this place falls on its arse?”

The edge of the mattress connected with his knees and he fell backwards, pulling her with him. “You know I’ll always take care of you.”

She landed on top of him, inches away from his face. He lifted a hand and tucked a stray red curl behind her ear. With a frustrated groan, she rolled off of him and lay on her side.

“As much as I would like to be the next notch on your bedpost, we have a business to run.” She shoved herself up.

He watched as she straightened her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Anyway,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m not your type. I have a brain.” She flashed him a smile before bending down to pick up the towel and tossing it in his direction.

“Ouch.” He feigned a hurt expression before getting up to follow her. Bracken panted around his ankles.

“I’ll make you a coffee, and then if you need me I’ll be saving your business.”

Author Bio / Links:

Charlotte lives in Somerset with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets and can always be found with a cup of tea in her hand. When she's not writing or running around after small people and animals, she loves to eat curry and watch action films.

Charlotte is an active (and vocal) member of the Yeovil Creative Writers.

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