Jennifer Wilck's Blog, page 18
May 13, 2020
Welcome to Sydney Winward
I wanted to introduce my fellow Rose, Sydney Winward, to you. Here are a few questions to get to know her better:
Where do you get your inspiration for your books?I’m a very visual person. I can look at a photograph or a picture of a person, and an entire story will unfold in my head. Pinterest is my go-to source for inspiration when I want to come up with a new story. Unfortunately, I have to avoid Pinterest altogether while I’m writing, otherwise a hoard of ideas will stack up before I’m able to get to any of them!
What was your favorite scene to write in Root Brew Float?I loved writing the chapter where Josephine gives in to her desire to fly again. As a witch, she takes great care to hide her magic from mortals. But when Clarence gives her a little push, she finds she can’t resist the pull of flying. But flying with a crippled man with a leg injury is not easy! Especially when she hadn’t practiced flying in a long time.
Why did you decide to make the hero a crippled man?Oh, it has everything to do with the storyline. An ancient curse haunts Clarence Watts, but other than that, you’ll just have to read the book to find out what it is!
What was your favorite side character to write?Does a cat count as a side character? I loved writing about Jinx, Josephine’s cat familiar. She’s mischievous and does what she wants. Although Jinx is just a cat, she’s very in tune with Jo’s emotions. She may even have to step into the meddling game when Jo is too stubborn to face fate head on!
Blurb:Josephine Brevil has lived hundreds of years haunted by the horrors she experienced during the Salem Witch Trials. She takes great care to hide her powers, though serving a Root Brew Float laced with a magic potion now and again never hurt anybody. The Order sends her to Massachusetts to deal with a paranormal threat, and she meets the young and handsome widower, Clarence Watts. However, being with him comes with a choice. How can she choose between the man she loves and the magic she holds dear?
Excerpt:“There’s a reason we’re inside the circle. Nothing can touch us in here. Now close your eyes and listen to my voice.” She paused for a moment to take a deep breath, channeling the magic swirling within her core. “Clarence Watts, our task here is to send your deceased wife into the afterlife, beyond the door and into the next realm. If you have done as I previously instructed, you have gotten rid of many of Heidi’s earthly belongings, which is a crucial step to letting her go. Now, imagine a rope that connects you to Heidi. Cut it and sever the tie.”
“It can’t be that simple.”
“It’s not. It’s symbolic of freeing her, but the act of letting go is another story altogether.”
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to let her go.”
“Cling onto something else you care about. It usually helps.”
His hands tightened around hers. She cracked her eyes open, her heart racing as she stared at their conjoined hands. The word home echoed in her mind again, and when she tried to push it away, it slammed back into her stronger than before.
Home is with the Order, she insisted.
Yet, her pounding heart didn’t believe her.
About the Author:Sydney Winward was born with an artistic brain and a love of discovery for new talents. From drawing to sewing to music, she has loved to explore every opportunity that comes her way. At a young age, Sydney discovered her love of writing and wrote her first book at twelve years old, and since then, she hasn’t been able to stop writing. Her active imagination and artistic mind take her away to different worlds and time periods, making every new story a fantastic adventure. When she is not writing (or fawning over animals in the neighborhood) she spends time with her husband and children at home in Utah.
Book Trailer:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bU0TRUll69w
Buy Links:Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Applebooks
Social Links:Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads ~ Amazon Author Page ~ Instagram
Where do you get your inspiration for your books?I’m a very visual person. I can look at a photograph or a picture of a person, and an entire story will unfold in my head. Pinterest is my go-to source for inspiration when I want to come up with a new story. Unfortunately, I have to avoid Pinterest altogether while I’m writing, otherwise a hoard of ideas will stack up before I’m able to get to any of them!
What was your favorite scene to write in Root Brew Float?I loved writing the chapter where Josephine gives in to her desire to fly again. As a witch, she takes great care to hide her magic from mortals. But when Clarence gives her a little push, she finds she can’t resist the pull of flying. But flying with a crippled man with a leg injury is not easy! Especially when she hadn’t practiced flying in a long time.
Why did you decide to make the hero a crippled man?Oh, it has everything to do with the storyline. An ancient curse haunts Clarence Watts, but other than that, you’ll just have to read the book to find out what it is!
What was your favorite side character to write?Does a cat count as a side character? I loved writing about Jinx, Josephine’s cat familiar. She’s mischievous and does what she wants. Although Jinx is just a cat, she’s very in tune with Jo’s emotions. She may even have to step into the meddling game when Jo is too stubborn to face fate head on!
Blurb:Josephine Brevil has lived hundreds of years haunted by the horrors she experienced during the Salem Witch Trials. She takes great care to hide her powers, though serving a Root Brew Float laced with a magic potion now and again never hurt anybody. The Order sends her to Massachusetts to deal with a paranormal threat, and she meets the young and handsome widower, Clarence Watts. However, being with him comes with a choice. How can she choose between the man she loves and the magic she holds dear?
Excerpt:“There’s a reason we’re inside the circle. Nothing can touch us in here. Now close your eyes and listen to my voice.” She paused for a moment to take a deep breath, channeling the magic swirling within her core. “Clarence Watts, our task here is to send your deceased wife into the afterlife, beyond the door and into the next realm. If you have done as I previously instructed, you have gotten rid of many of Heidi’s earthly belongings, which is a crucial step to letting her go. Now, imagine a rope that connects you to Heidi. Cut it and sever the tie.”
“It can’t be that simple.”
“It’s not. It’s symbolic of freeing her, but the act of letting go is another story altogether.”
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to let her go.”
“Cling onto something else you care about. It usually helps.”
His hands tightened around hers. She cracked her eyes open, her heart racing as she stared at their conjoined hands. The word home echoed in her mind again, and when she tried to push it away, it slammed back into her stronger than before.
Home is with the Order, she insisted.
Yet, her pounding heart didn’t believe her.
About the Author:Sydney Winward was born with an artistic brain and a love of discovery for new talents. From drawing to sewing to music, she has loved to explore every opportunity that comes her way. At a young age, Sydney discovered her love of writing and wrote her first book at twelve years old, and since then, she hasn’t been able to stop writing. Her active imagination and artistic mind take her away to different worlds and time periods, making every new story a fantastic adventure. When she is not writing (or fawning over animals in the neighborhood) she spends time with her husband and children at home in Utah.
Book Trailer:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bU0TRUll69w
Buy Links:Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Applebooks
Social Links:Website ~ Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Goodreads ~ Amazon Author Page ~ Instagram
May 11, 2020
Mother's Day
Mother’s Day was yesterday. It’s supposed to be the day to celebrate the relationship between mothers and their children. In the times of Covid, that means something a little different.
My in-laws are in Florida. They couldn’t travel so we talked on the phone. My husband wasn’t with his mother, my mother-in-law wasn’t with her grandchildren, but we sent gifts that were delivered in time and we talked.
My parents came for lunch. A socially distant one. They brought their own food, we provided our own, gifts were left on a table and we sat six feet apart. Our yearly photo was taken with lots of space between us. There were no hugs. But we spent time together.
My kids were home and it was wonderful. That doesn’t always happen. There were handmade cards because no one wanted to venture to the store, although I did get a cake that required store-going, but I didn’t ask.
I think this year, while very different, was also nice. What we did was intentional. We all took the time to figure out a way to make everyone’s day special, even if it couldn’t be the same as in previous years.
And hopefully next year we can go back to hugs.
Mother's Day 2018, the last time we were all together for the holiday
My in-laws are in Florida. They couldn’t travel so we talked on the phone. My husband wasn’t with his mother, my mother-in-law wasn’t with her grandchildren, but we sent gifts that were delivered in time and we talked.
My parents came for lunch. A socially distant one. They brought their own food, we provided our own, gifts were left on a table and we sat six feet apart. Our yearly photo was taken with lots of space between us. There were no hugs. But we spent time together.
My kids were home and it was wonderful. That doesn’t always happen. There were handmade cards because no one wanted to venture to the store, although I did get a cake that required store-going, but I didn’t ask.
I think this year, while very different, was also nice. What we did was intentional. We all took the time to figure out a way to make everyone’s day special, even if it couldn’t be the same as in previous years.
And hopefully next year we can go back to hugs.
Mother's Day 2018, the last time we were all together for the holidayMay 6, 2020
Welcome Back, Peggy Jaeger
Writing a novella
I talk.
A lot.
A really lot.
So it stands to reason when I write, I write a lot.
The majority of my romance novels are 95,000 words, plus. You can tell just by the widths of the book spines how much I love to write words.
So having to pare down a book, get everything you need to say, said; every plot point you needed summed up, resolved; and every character arc complete and vivid, all in under 40,000 words – relatively less than half what I usually write – can be torture.
And a wonderful exercise in concise storytelling.
Writing a novella is no different from writing a full-length novel except for the number of words you use to get your story to a favorable ending.
Both have:A three act structure (beginning, middle, end)A hero and heroine you can and must root forA plausible plotAn interesting setting ( the locale)An interesting set-up (goal, motivation, conflict)A full resolution of all plot pointsSide characters ( although you can have more in a full length novel)And, for romance, a meet/cute, conflict, then an HEA
All that in under 40,000 words.
I think to be a really good novella-ist ( is that a word??) you have to be a really good EDITOR ( I know that one’s a word, hee hee). You have to have a brutal mindset when you kill all those filter and easy to write clutch words that you don’t need in a every single sentence in order to get your brilliant point across.
See now, in that sentence above? There were so many useless words that, although they could add to the word flavor of the story, are really NOT needed. Much better and more concise to have written: You have to be brutal and kill all filter and clutch words.
I’m not the best editor, I will admit that. I’m the type of writer who loves her words. All of them. All the time. Removing them is like hacking away little bits of my soul.
But…once I know I’m writing a novella, I can learn to be brutal and bloodthirsty and do away with all the “stuff” that doesn’t add to the story.
My newest novella, VANILLA WITH A TWIST, part of the One Scoop or Two series from Wild Rose Press, was a joy to write. For the very first time in all my writing – big and little stories – I didn’t have to cull many of the words because I outlined the story to be as concise as possible with a narrow plotline that I kept to from beginning to end. Now, could I have made this into a 90k novel? Sure. Easy peasy. But I settled on less than 35,000 when all was said and done, and still managed to fulfill all my story requirements.
Disclaimer: No words were killed in the writing of this book. (Many, though, were tortured and buried while penning this blog piece!)
So, if you want to tackle a novella, remember, the old adage less is more is true for a reason. A very good one.
And if that paragraph were in a novella, I would cull the last 4 words.
Just sayin’.
Blurb:
Tandy Blakemore spends her days running her New England ice cream parlor, single-parenting her teenage son, and trying to keep her head above financial water. No easy feat when the shop's machinery is aging and her son is thinking about college. Tandy hasn't had a day off in a decade and wonders if she'll ever be able to live a worry-free life.
Engineer Deacon Withers is on an enforced vacation in the tiny seaside town of Beacher's Cove. Overworked, stressed, and lonely, he walks into Tandy's shop for a midday ice cream cone and gets embroiled in helping her fix a broken piece of equipment.
Can the budding friendship that follows lead to something everlasting?
Buy Links:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0868XXYQC
Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/vanilla-with-a-twist-peggy-jaeger/1136710329?ean=2940162687870
Applebooks https://books.apple.com/us/book/vanilla-with-a-twist/id1505095515
Excerpt:
For a few moments, she regarded him with a look his mother would have called insightful. The corners of her eyes narrowed, she dipped her chin a hair, and she pulled her mouth into another appealing pout he was tempted to kiss. “I bet,” she said after a long, drawn-out sigh, “you were the kind of kid who took apart clocks and fans and vacuum cleaners to see how they worked.” “It was more washing machines and lawn mowers and anything with a motor, but yeah. I was.” She shook her head, her own lips forming a lopsided grin. “Your poor mother.” “She survived.” Tandy rolled her eyes and shot her hands to her hips. “So it’s working again?” She thrust her chin at the ice cream machine. “For now.” “Okay, well, I can live with for now. And you think you know the real reason it’s been acting up?” “I definitely do. But like I said, the water to the machine needs to be shut off to fix it.” “Okay. Well, we close at nine.” “I’ll come back a little before then. Get things ready. Is that okay with you?” “I guess it’ll have to be.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek as her brows pulled together. “And you’re sure you want to do this?” “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t offer, Tandy.” Why her reluctance to have him help was such a turn-on was something he considered while he waited for his ice cream.
Author Bio and Social media links:
Peggy Jaeger is a contemporary romance writer who writes Romantic Comedies about strong women, the families who support them, and the men who can’t live without them. If she can make you cry on one page and bring you out of tears rolling with laughter the next, she’s done her job as a writer!
Family and food play huge roles in Peggy’s stories because she believes there is nothing that holds a family structure together like sharing a meal…or two…or ten. Dotted with humor and characters that are as real as they are loving, she brings all topics of daily life into her stories: life, death, sibling rivalry, illness and the desire for everyone to find their own happily ever after. Growing up the only child of divorced parents she longed for sisters, brothers and a family that vowed to stick together no matter what came their way. Through her books, she’s created the families she wanted as that lonely child.
When she’s not writing Peggy is usually painting, crafting, scrapbooking or decoupaging old steamer trunks she finds at rummage stores and garage sales.
A lifelong and avid romance reader and writer, Peggy is a member of RWA and her local New Hampshire RWA Chapter.
As a lifelong diarist, she caught the blogging bug early on, and you can visit her at peggyjaeger.com where she blogs daily about life, writing, and stuff that makes her go "What??!"
Social Media links:
Website: http://peggyjaeger.com/Blog: http://peggyjaeger.com/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Peggy-Jaeger-Author/825914814095072?ref=bookmarksTwitter: https://twitter.com/peggy_jaegerGoodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13478796.Peggy_JaegerBookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/peggy-jaeger YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDR8RRIlssIyS0FYZWeGqsg/videos?view_as=subscriber
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/peggyjaeger_author/Pintrest: https://www.pinterest.com/peggyjaeger/LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/peggy-jaeger-296ab878/
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00T8E5LN0A... database: https://authorsdb.com/community/15814-peggy-jaegerTriberr: https://triberr.com/tribe/strong-women--loving-men
I talk.
A lot.
A really lot.
So it stands to reason when I write, I write a lot.
The majority of my romance novels are 95,000 words, plus. You can tell just by the widths of the book spines how much I love to write words.
So having to pare down a book, get everything you need to say, said; every plot point you needed summed up, resolved; and every character arc complete and vivid, all in under 40,000 words – relatively less than half what I usually write – can be torture.
And a wonderful exercise in concise storytelling.
Writing a novella is no different from writing a full-length novel except for the number of words you use to get your story to a favorable ending.
Both have:A three act structure (beginning, middle, end)A hero and heroine you can and must root forA plausible plotAn interesting setting ( the locale)An interesting set-up (goal, motivation, conflict)A full resolution of all plot pointsSide characters ( although you can have more in a full length novel)And, for romance, a meet/cute, conflict, then an HEA
All that in under 40,000 words.
I think to be a really good novella-ist ( is that a word??) you have to be a really good EDITOR ( I know that one’s a word, hee hee). You have to have a brutal mindset when you kill all those filter and easy to write clutch words that you don’t need in a every single sentence in order to get your brilliant point across.
See now, in that sentence above? There were so many useless words that, although they could add to the word flavor of the story, are really NOT needed. Much better and more concise to have written: You have to be brutal and kill all filter and clutch words.
I’m not the best editor, I will admit that. I’m the type of writer who loves her words. All of them. All the time. Removing them is like hacking away little bits of my soul.
But…once I know I’m writing a novella, I can learn to be brutal and bloodthirsty and do away with all the “stuff” that doesn’t add to the story.
My newest novella, VANILLA WITH A TWIST, part of the One Scoop or Two series from Wild Rose Press, was a joy to write. For the very first time in all my writing – big and little stories – I didn’t have to cull many of the words because I outlined the story to be as concise as possible with a narrow plotline that I kept to from beginning to end. Now, could I have made this into a 90k novel? Sure. Easy peasy. But I settled on less than 35,000 when all was said and done, and still managed to fulfill all my story requirements.
Disclaimer: No words were killed in the writing of this book. (Many, though, were tortured and buried while penning this blog piece!)
So, if you want to tackle a novella, remember, the old adage less is more is true for a reason. A very good one.
And if that paragraph were in a novella, I would cull the last 4 words.
Just sayin’.
Blurb:
Tandy Blakemore spends her days running her New England ice cream parlor, single-parenting her teenage son, and trying to keep her head above financial water. No easy feat when the shop's machinery is aging and her son is thinking about college. Tandy hasn't had a day off in a decade and wonders if she'll ever be able to live a worry-free life.
Engineer Deacon Withers is on an enforced vacation in the tiny seaside town of Beacher's Cove. Overworked, stressed, and lonely, he walks into Tandy's shop for a midday ice cream cone and gets embroiled in helping her fix a broken piece of equipment.
Can the budding friendship that follows lead to something everlasting?
Buy Links:
Amazon https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0868XXYQC
Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/vanilla-with-a-twist-peggy-jaeger/1136710329?ean=2940162687870
Applebooks https://books.apple.com/us/book/vanilla-with-a-twist/id1505095515
Excerpt:
For a few moments, she regarded him with a look his mother would have called insightful. The corners of her eyes narrowed, she dipped her chin a hair, and she pulled her mouth into another appealing pout he was tempted to kiss. “I bet,” she said after a long, drawn-out sigh, “you were the kind of kid who took apart clocks and fans and vacuum cleaners to see how they worked.” “It was more washing machines and lawn mowers and anything with a motor, but yeah. I was.” She shook her head, her own lips forming a lopsided grin. “Your poor mother.” “She survived.” Tandy rolled her eyes and shot her hands to her hips. “So it’s working again?” She thrust her chin at the ice cream machine. “For now.” “Okay, well, I can live with for now. And you think you know the real reason it’s been acting up?” “I definitely do. But like I said, the water to the machine needs to be shut off to fix it.” “Okay. Well, we close at nine.” “I’ll come back a little before then. Get things ready. Is that okay with you?” “I guess it’ll have to be.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek as her brows pulled together. “And you’re sure you want to do this?” “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t offer, Tandy.” Why her reluctance to have him help was such a turn-on was something he considered while he waited for his ice cream.
Author Bio and Social media links:
Peggy Jaeger is a contemporary romance writer who writes Romantic Comedies about strong women, the families who support them, and the men who can’t live without them. If she can make you cry on one page and bring you out of tears rolling with laughter the next, she’s done her job as a writer!
Family and food play huge roles in Peggy’s stories because she believes there is nothing that holds a family structure together like sharing a meal…or two…or ten. Dotted with humor and characters that are as real as they are loving, she brings all topics of daily life into her stories: life, death, sibling rivalry, illness and the desire for everyone to find their own happily ever after. Growing up the only child of divorced parents she longed for sisters, brothers and a family that vowed to stick together no matter what came their way. Through her books, she’s created the families she wanted as that lonely child.
When she’s not writing Peggy is usually painting, crafting, scrapbooking or decoupaging old steamer trunks she finds at rummage stores and garage sales.
A lifelong and avid romance reader and writer, Peggy is a member of RWA and her local New Hampshire RWA Chapter.
As a lifelong diarist, she caught the blogging bug early on, and you can visit her at peggyjaeger.com where she blogs daily about life, writing, and stuff that makes her go "What??!"
Social Media links:
Website: http://peggyjaeger.com/Blog: http://peggyjaeger.com/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Peggy-Jaeger-Author/825914814095072?ref=bookmarksTwitter: https://twitter.com/peggy_jaegerGoodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13478796.Peggy_JaegerBookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/peggy-jaeger YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDR8RRIlssIyS0FYZWeGqsg/videos?view_as=subscriber
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/peggyjaeger_author/Pintrest: https://www.pinterest.com/peggyjaeger/LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/peggy-jaeger-296ab878/
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00T8E5LN0A... database: https://authorsdb.com/community/15814-peggy-jaegerTriberr: https://triberr.com/tribe/strong-women--loving-men
May 4, 2020
What Day Is It?
It’s the forty billionth day of quarantine, or at least it feels like it.
It’s Monday. Monday is my blog day.
It’s May the 4th, Star Wars Day. My husband is wearing one of his many Star Wars shirts, as expected.
It’s also Children’s Book Week, if you’re the literary type. We all have our favorites—Banana Girl loved Knuckle Bunny, the Princess loved Piggy Pie. I was partial to the Wizard of Oz series that my dad used to read me at night.
It’s someone’s birthday, maybe a lot of someones.
As we sit here in our homes doing the same thing over and over again, it’s hard to remember the day of the week, so every little “special calendar day” helps.
I look at my calendar a lot less than I used to. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. However, looking at the week as a whole, seeing what I had scheduled before life got cancelled and postponed—fewer and fewer things as this quarantine lengthens—does show me the passage of time, and reminds me that one day, life will resume, my calendar will fill up again.
In the meantime, I watch my flowers grow and the trees bud and the birds return to build their nests. The weather warms up and summer approaches. And one of these days, life will return to normal, or some semblance thereof.
In the meantime, find something to keep your spirits up and stay healthy, and celebrate the little things.
It’s Monday. Monday is my blog day.
It’s May the 4th, Star Wars Day. My husband is wearing one of his many Star Wars shirts, as expected.
It’s also Children’s Book Week, if you’re the literary type. We all have our favorites—Banana Girl loved Knuckle Bunny, the Princess loved Piggy Pie. I was partial to the Wizard of Oz series that my dad used to read me at night.
It’s someone’s birthday, maybe a lot of someones.
As we sit here in our homes doing the same thing over and over again, it’s hard to remember the day of the week, so every little “special calendar day” helps.
I look at my calendar a lot less than I used to. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. However, looking at the week as a whole, seeing what I had scheduled before life got cancelled and postponed—fewer and fewer things as this quarantine lengthens—does show me the passage of time, and reminds me that one day, life will resume, my calendar will fill up again.
In the meantime, I watch my flowers grow and the trees bud and the birds return to build their nests. The weather warms up and summer approaches. And one of these days, life will return to normal, or some semblance thereof.
In the meantime, find something to keep your spirits up and stay healthy, and celebrate the little things.
April 22, 2020
Welcome Back, Karen Hulene Bartell
Wild Rose Pass by Karen Hulene Bartell
Blurb: Cadence McShane, free-spirited nonconformist, yearns to escape the rigid code, clothes, and sidesaddles of 1880s military society in Fort Davis, Texas. She finds the daring new lieutenant exhilarating, but as the daughter of the commanding officer, she is expected to keep with family tradition and marry West Point graduate James West. Orphaned, Comanche-raised, and always the outsider looking in, Ben Williams yearns to belong. Cadence embodies everything he craves, but as a battlefield-commissioned officer with the Buffalo Soldiers instead of a West Point graduate, he is neither accepted into military society nor considered marriageable. Can two people of different worlds, drawn together by conflicting needs, flout society and forge a life together on the frontier?
Excerpt:Reining his horse between catclaw and prickly-pear cactus, Ben Williams squinted at the late summer sun’s low angle. Though still midafternoon, shadows lengthened in the mountains. He clicked his tongue, urging his mare up the incline. “Show a little enthusiasm, Althea. If we’re not in Fort Davis by sunset, we’ll be bedding down with scorpions and rattlesnakes.” As his detachment’s horses clambered up Wild Rose Pass, the only gap through west Texas’ rugged Davis Mountains, Ben kept alert for loose rocks or hidden roots, anything that might trip his mount. A thick layer of fallen leaves created a pastiche of color shrouding the trail from view. He glanced up at the lithe cottonwood trees lining the route, their limbs dancing in the breeze. More amber and persimmon leaves loosened, fell, and settled near the Indian pictographs on their tree trunks. When he saw the red- and yellow-ochre drawings, he smiled, recalling the canyon’s name—Painted Comanche Camp. “How far to Fort Davis, lieutenant?” called McCurry, one of his recruits.“Three hours.” If we keep a steady pace. Without warning, the soldier’s horse whinnied. Spooking, it reared on its hind legs, threw its rider, and galloped off. As he sat up, the man groaned, caught his breath, and stared into the eyes of a coiled rattler, poised to strike. “What the…?” Flicking its tongue, hissing, tail rattling, the pit viper was inches from the man’s face. A sheen of sweat appeared above the man’s lip. “Lieutenant—”
Buy Links:
Amazon eBook Amazon Paperback Barnes & Noble NOOK Book Barnes & Noble Paperback
About the Author:
Author of the Trans-Pecos, Sacred Emblem, Sacred Journey, and Sacred Messenger series, Karen is a best-selling author, motivational keynote speaker, wife, and all-around pilgrim of life. She writes multicultural, offbeat love stories that lift the spirit. Born to rolling-stone parents who moved annually, Bartell found her earliest playmates as fictional friends in books. Paperbacks became her portable pals. Ghost stories kept her up at night—reading feverishly. The paranormal was her passion. Westerns spurred her to write (pun intended). Wanderlust inherent, Karen enjoyed traveling, although loathed changing schools. Novels offered an imaginative escape. An only child, she began writing her first novel at the age of nine, learning the joy of creating her own happy endings. Professor emeritus of the University of Texas at Austin, Karen resides in the Hill Country with her husband Peter and her “mews”—three rescued cats and a rescued *Cat*ahoula Leopard dog.
Connect with Karen:
Facebook Twitter Instagram Goodreads Website Email Amazon Author Page Instagram BookBub LinkedIn AUTHORSdb
Blurb: Cadence McShane, free-spirited nonconformist, yearns to escape the rigid code, clothes, and sidesaddles of 1880s military society in Fort Davis, Texas. She finds the daring new lieutenant exhilarating, but as the daughter of the commanding officer, she is expected to keep with family tradition and marry West Point graduate James West. Orphaned, Comanche-raised, and always the outsider looking in, Ben Williams yearns to belong. Cadence embodies everything he craves, but as a battlefield-commissioned officer with the Buffalo Soldiers instead of a West Point graduate, he is neither accepted into military society nor considered marriageable. Can two people of different worlds, drawn together by conflicting needs, flout society and forge a life together on the frontier?
Excerpt:Reining his horse between catclaw and prickly-pear cactus, Ben Williams squinted at the late summer sun’s low angle. Though still midafternoon, shadows lengthened in the mountains. He clicked his tongue, urging his mare up the incline. “Show a little enthusiasm, Althea. If we’re not in Fort Davis by sunset, we’ll be bedding down with scorpions and rattlesnakes.” As his detachment’s horses clambered up Wild Rose Pass, the only gap through west Texas’ rugged Davis Mountains, Ben kept alert for loose rocks or hidden roots, anything that might trip his mount. A thick layer of fallen leaves created a pastiche of color shrouding the trail from view. He glanced up at the lithe cottonwood trees lining the route, their limbs dancing in the breeze. More amber and persimmon leaves loosened, fell, and settled near the Indian pictographs on their tree trunks. When he saw the red- and yellow-ochre drawings, he smiled, recalling the canyon’s name—Painted Comanche Camp. “How far to Fort Davis, lieutenant?” called McCurry, one of his recruits.“Three hours.” If we keep a steady pace. Without warning, the soldier’s horse whinnied. Spooking, it reared on its hind legs, threw its rider, and galloped off. As he sat up, the man groaned, caught his breath, and stared into the eyes of a coiled rattler, poised to strike. “What the…?” Flicking its tongue, hissing, tail rattling, the pit viper was inches from the man’s face. A sheen of sweat appeared above the man’s lip. “Lieutenant—”
Buy Links:
Amazon eBook Amazon Paperback Barnes & Noble NOOK Book Barnes & Noble Paperback
About the Author:
Author of the Trans-Pecos, Sacred Emblem, Sacred Journey, and Sacred Messenger series, Karen is a best-selling author, motivational keynote speaker, wife, and all-around pilgrim of life. She writes multicultural, offbeat love stories that lift the spirit. Born to rolling-stone parents who moved annually, Bartell found her earliest playmates as fictional friends in books. Paperbacks became her portable pals. Ghost stories kept her up at night—reading feverishly. The paranormal was her passion. Westerns spurred her to write (pun intended). Wanderlust inherent, Karen enjoyed traveling, although loathed changing schools. Novels offered an imaginative escape. An only child, she began writing her first novel at the age of nine, learning the joy of creating her own happy endings. Professor emeritus of the University of Texas at Austin, Karen resides in the Hill Country with her husband Peter and her “mews”—three rescued cats and a rescued *Cat*ahoula Leopard dog.
Connect with Karen:
Facebook Twitter Instagram Goodreads Website Email Amazon Author Page Instagram BookBub LinkedIn AUTHORSdb
April 20, 2020
To-Do Lists
I live and die by my to-do list. Seriously, if something doesn’t make it onto my to-do list, it doesn’t get done—other than brushing my teeth and taking a shower, and even then, it would be better to list those things (but I’m not that crazy...yet).
Sure, my calendar is useful for appointments, but my to-do list gives my days purpose. I know what work has to be done, what errands need to be taken care of, and who needs to hear what from me.
So I check my list daily and get satisfaction from crossing things off of it.
Today was the day I was supposed to make the final decision about my Ann Arbor hotel reservation.
See, as soon as Banana Girl told me when her finals were, I reserved rooms in Ann Arbor so that we could go pick her and bring her home from her first year in college. Not knowing precisely what dates we’d need, I reserved rooms for the entire finals week (or two), and noted on my to-do list cancellation deadlines so we wouldn’t get charged for a room not used.
And then the Coronavirus hit.
I remember the conversations my husband and I had about whether or not to have Banana Girl handle her packing and moving and storage by herself. I remember weighing things like independence, stress and efficiency. I remember laughable conversations with Banana Girl about those same subjects with very different outcomes. And I even remember my original plan to drive out to Michigan by myself to help her pack and move out of her dorm.
Our actual course of action was very different.
It seems like ages ago that my husband and I drove to Michigan with an empty car and bags of cleaning supplies. I remember sterilizing our hotel room. I remember how weird it was to move her out a full month early. I remember how different our departure day was from our arrival day in September.
She’s been home more than a month now. Currently, she’s taking an exam and planning out her finals studying timetable. She has a to-do list, too. She lives and breathes by it just like me.
But our lists are very different. Especially now.
Sure, my calendar is useful for appointments, but my to-do list gives my days purpose. I know what work has to be done, what errands need to be taken care of, and who needs to hear what from me.
So I check my list daily and get satisfaction from crossing things off of it.
Today was the day I was supposed to make the final decision about my Ann Arbor hotel reservation.
See, as soon as Banana Girl told me when her finals were, I reserved rooms in Ann Arbor so that we could go pick her and bring her home from her first year in college. Not knowing precisely what dates we’d need, I reserved rooms for the entire finals week (or two), and noted on my to-do list cancellation deadlines so we wouldn’t get charged for a room not used.
And then the Coronavirus hit.
I remember the conversations my husband and I had about whether or not to have Banana Girl handle her packing and moving and storage by herself. I remember weighing things like independence, stress and efficiency. I remember laughable conversations with Banana Girl about those same subjects with very different outcomes. And I even remember my original plan to drive out to Michigan by myself to help her pack and move out of her dorm.
Our actual course of action was very different.
It seems like ages ago that my husband and I drove to Michigan with an empty car and bags of cleaning supplies. I remember sterilizing our hotel room. I remember how weird it was to move her out a full month early. I remember how different our departure day was from our arrival day in September.
She’s been home more than a month now. Currently, she’s taking an exam and planning out her finals studying timetable. She has a to-do list, too. She lives and breathes by it just like me.
But our lists are very different. Especially now.
April 15, 2020
Welcome, DV Stone
Being flexible, adaptable, and how to piece it together.
Hi, Jennifer. Thank you for having me today on your blog. I’d like to talk a little about having expectations and ideas of who I am as an author. The main character in Rock House Grill is Shay McDowell. As an EMT, she needs to be flexible and adaptable. This reflects me, D. V. Stone, as a writer. The same with Aden House, her love interest. He needs to do the same since he’s become injured.I’m in the middle of my second Impact book titled Jazz House. I never really considered myself a suspense author, but when Rock House Grill came out—surprise—that’s what it is referred to as. Romantic Suspense. Some have even called it inspirational, though it’s not religious. All cool, right? Not when you live in my head. I began to overthink everything—question my ability to write suspense. The manuscript was a mess. This past month in isolation, I’ve spent ripping Jazz House to shreds. Previously, I tended to write linearly. Start at the beginning, get to the end, done. Today the timelines, villains, and central character relationships are all on the virtual cutting room floor as Chef Aden House might say, sliced and diced. I yanked most of the bad guy parts into a second document. Once I’m satisfied with the main characters’ relationship and world-building, I’ll seed these sections back in. This is a new way of writing for me. I’ve had to adapt to my new expectations of what and how I write. Also, before RHG, I considered myself a Fantasy with romantic elements. The past year I’ve had to wrap my head around being a multi-genre. Since reading across the genres, I now realize I can be flexible and write across them as well. These past weeks of 2020 have been difficult for everyone. You, too, have had to be flexible and adapt. We are still learning what’s important. I hope to become a better writer. I also hope to become a better person. I wonder in what ways you have had to adapt and overcome, how you’ve found a new flexibility. One of my favorite lines from a movie is Lily Tomlin’s in 9 to 5 I’m a tree. I can bend.
One man’s choices—One woman’s impact
Rock House Grill
Aden House, successful but driven chef and TV personality, refuses to slow down. His life implodes one night, damaging him both physically and emotionally. He’s rescued by a woman he thinks of as his angel.
Shay McDowell has rebuilt her life after her divorce. She juggles volunteer EMT duties and her job, while dreaming of becoming a chef. She finds her way to Rock House Grill and back into the life of the man she helped save.
Can love be the ingredient needed to survive the many obstacles they face?
Excerpt
“Easy, you’re going to be okay.” A soft voice eased through the chaos around him. The owner of the voice grabbed his arms and held them in a firm but gentle grip. “I’m right here with you. You are not alone.” “Can hardly m-move.” His voice slurred. “C-can’t see anything.” “You’ve been in an accident. I’m an EMT with the ambulance squad,” the velvety voice calmly explained. “You can’t see well because we’re under a tarp. Hold still, okay?” “‘K.” A small light flickered at the edge of his vision. It shone into a bag next to him. Penlight. “You’re restrained to a board. It’s to keep your head from moving and causing more injury.” She continued to talk to him. The voice reached down somewhere inside him, calming and peaceful, so he focused on it. A glow from spotlights on the outside lit whatever covered them. The shadow gave the woman the appearance of a halo—like an angel.
Hi, my name is D. V. Stone. Rock House Grill, a contemporary romance, is available for purchase on April 6th by Wild Rose Press. I host Welcome to the Campfire, a weekly blog. I am also a multi-genre author of two independently published books. Felice, Shield-Mates of Dar is a fantasy romance. Agent Sam Carter and the Mystery at Branch Lake is a mid-grade paranormal. Here’s a little more about me.
Born in Brooklyn, D.V. Stone has moved around a bit and even lived for a time on a dairy farm in Minnesota before moving back east. Throughout her wandering, she always considered herself a Jersey Girl. She met and married the love of her life, Pete—a lifelong Jersey Man, and moved this time to Sussex County. They live with Hali, a mixed breed from the local shelter and their cat Baby.
D.V.’s career path varied from working with the disabled to become a volunteer EMT, which in turn led to working in hospital emergency rooms and then in a women’s state prison. After a few years, she took a break from medicine and became the owner of Heavenly Brew, a specialty coffee shop in Sparta NJ, and a small restaurant in Lafayette. Life handed some setbacks, and she ended up back in the medical field, but this time in a veterinary emergency hospital.
During the poor economy, she was laid–off from a long-time position she cared about. Devastated, D.V. wondered what to do with her life. Finding comfort in her love of reading, she realized it was now time to follow her dream of writing. It’s been a long road but worth every minute of it. Now a published author, she also works in a people medical office again.
“Thank you for taking the time to read about me. Each time you open the pages to one of my books, I hope you’ll be swept away by the story and find encouragement in your own life, never to give up on hope.”
D.V. Stone
Buy LinksAmazon Barnes & Noble iBook’s
Find out more about D. V. Website FaceBook Twitter InstagramPinterest Bookbub Goodreads NewsletterWelcome to the Campfire Blog Amazon Author Page
Hi, Jennifer. Thank you for having me today on your blog. I’d like to talk a little about having expectations and ideas of who I am as an author. The main character in Rock House Grill is Shay McDowell. As an EMT, she needs to be flexible and adaptable. This reflects me, D. V. Stone, as a writer. The same with Aden House, her love interest. He needs to do the same since he’s become injured.I’m in the middle of my second Impact book titled Jazz House. I never really considered myself a suspense author, but when Rock House Grill came out—surprise—that’s what it is referred to as. Romantic Suspense. Some have even called it inspirational, though it’s not religious. All cool, right? Not when you live in my head. I began to overthink everything—question my ability to write suspense. The manuscript was a mess. This past month in isolation, I’ve spent ripping Jazz House to shreds. Previously, I tended to write linearly. Start at the beginning, get to the end, done. Today the timelines, villains, and central character relationships are all on the virtual cutting room floor as Chef Aden House might say, sliced and diced. I yanked most of the bad guy parts into a second document. Once I’m satisfied with the main characters’ relationship and world-building, I’ll seed these sections back in. This is a new way of writing for me. I’ve had to adapt to my new expectations of what and how I write. Also, before RHG, I considered myself a Fantasy with romantic elements. The past year I’ve had to wrap my head around being a multi-genre. Since reading across the genres, I now realize I can be flexible and write across them as well. These past weeks of 2020 have been difficult for everyone. You, too, have had to be flexible and adapt. We are still learning what’s important. I hope to become a better writer. I also hope to become a better person. I wonder in what ways you have had to adapt and overcome, how you’ve found a new flexibility. One of my favorite lines from a movie is Lily Tomlin’s in 9 to 5 I’m a tree. I can bend.
One man’s choices—One woman’s impact
Rock House Grill
Aden House, successful but driven chef and TV personality, refuses to slow down. His life implodes one night, damaging him both physically and emotionally. He’s rescued by a woman he thinks of as his angel.
Shay McDowell has rebuilt her life after her divorce. She juggles volunteer EMT duties and her job, while dreaming of becoming a chef. She finds her way to Rock House Grill and back into the life of the man she helped save.
Can love be the ingredient needed to survive the many obstacles they face?
Excerpt
“Easy, you’re going to be okay.” A soft voice eased through the chaos around him. The owner of the voice grabbed his arms and held them in a firm but gentle grip. “I’m right here with you. You are not alone.” “Can hardly m-move.” His voice slurred. “C-can’t see anything.” “You’ve been in an accident. I’m an EMT with the ambulance squad,” the velvety voice calmly explained. “You can’t see well because we’re under a tarp. Hold still, okay?” “‘K.” A small light flickered at the edge of his vision. It shone into a bag next to him. Penlight. “You’re restrained to a board. It’s to keep your head from moving and causing more injury.” She continued to talk to him. The voice reached down somewhere inside him, calming and peaceful, so he focused on it. A glow from spotlights on the outside lit whatever covered them. The shadow gave the woman the appearance of a halo—like an angel.
Hi, my name is D. V. Stone. Rock House Grill, a contemporary romance, is available for purchase on April 6th by Wild Rose Press. I host Welcome to the Campfire, a weekly blog. I am also a multi-genre author of two independently published books. Felice, Shield-Mates of Dar is a fantasy romance. Agent Sam Carter and the Mystery at Branch Lake is a mid-grade paranormal. Here’s a little more about me.
Born in Brooklyn, D.V. Stone has moved around a bit and even lived for a time on a dairy farm in Minnesota before moving back east. Throughout her wandering, she always considered herself a Jersey Girl. She met and married the love of her life, Pete—a lifelong Jersey Man, and moved this time to Sussex County. They live with Hali, a mixed breed from the local shelter and their cat Baby.
D.V.’s career path varied from working with the disabled to become a volunteer EMT, which in turn led to working in hospital emergency rooms and then in a women’s state prison. After a few years, she took a break from medicine and became the owner of Heavenly Brew, a specialty coffee shop in Sparta NJ, and a small restaurant in Lafayette. Life handed some setbacks, and she ended up back in the medical field, but this time in a veterinary emergency hospital.
During the poor economy, she was laid–off from a long-time position she cared about. Devastated, D.V. wondered what to do with her life. Finding comfort in her love of reading, she realized it was now time to follow her dream of writing. It’s been a long road but worth every minute of it. Now a published author, she also works in a people medical office again.
“Thank you for taking the time to read about me. Each time you open the pages to one of my books, I hope you’ll be swept away by the story and find encouragement in your own life, never to give up on hope.”
D.V. Stone
Buy LinksAmazon Barnes & Noble iBook’s
Find out more about D. V. Website FaceBook Twitter InstagramPinterest Bookbub Goodreads NewsletterWelcome to the Campfire Blog Amazon Author Page
April 13, 2020
Ads In The Age of Quarantine
I’ve lost track of the days and weeks. When I try to figure out exactly how long we’ve been social distancing, it seems like forever, and it certainly doesn’t help my mood, so I don’t. However I do know I’m cooking all the time, cleaning and doing dishes constantly, and each day is similar to the one before.
However, today I’m trying something new. I’m taking a free class online that teaches you how to get the most profit out of Amazon ads. A snooze for most people, but for authors, Amazon is essential. I’m not sure if it’s quarantine brain kicking in or if I was never told all of the information, but I’m not quite sure how often the class is given or how long it runs. Hey, it’s not like I have anything else going on, so as long as I keep getting the emails, I’m good.
Today’s class had us set up an ad to start and which, I assume, we’ll use to compare in later classes. It was pretty easy, which quite possibly means I did something wrong, but I’ll know for sure if/when Amazon approves it.
I’ve got to say, it’s a pretty clever thing for this guy to do. He’s an author and an expert at marketing. Running a free class during quarantine pretty much assures that people will take it, as well as his future classes that aren’t free. And it allows authors, like me, to actually see if people are buying books during quarantine or not. Not to mention, it gives us something to do, and offers us a community to join.
So, I’m curious. If you’re an author, what kinds of advertising do you find most successful? And if you’re a reader, is quarantine affecting your reading/purchasing habits?
Tell me!
However, today I’m trying something new. I’m taking a free class online that teaches you how to get the most profit out of Amazon ads. A snooze for most people, but for authors, Amazon is essential. I’m not sure if it’s quarantine brain kicking in or if I was never told all of the information, but I’m not quite sure how often the class is given or how long it runs. Hey, it’s not like I have anything else going on, so as long as I keep getting the emails, I’m good.
Today’s class had us set up an ad to start and which, I assume, we’ll use to compare in later classes. It was pretty easy, which quite possibly means I did something wrong, but I’ll know for sure if/when Amazon approves it.
I’ve got to say, it’s a pretty clever thing for this guy to do. He’s an author and an expert at marketing. Running a free class during quarantine pretty much assures that people will take it, as well as his future classes that aren’t free. And it allows authors, like me, to actually see if people are buying books during quarantine or not. Not to mention, it gives us something to do, and offers us a community to join.
So, I’m curious. If you’re an author, what kinds of advertising do you find most successful? And if you’re a reader, is quarantine affecting your reading/purchasing habits?
Tell me!
April 8, 2020
Welcome Back, Stephen King
Domin8By Stephen B KingPsychological Thriller/Police Procedural/whodunnit
www.stephen-b-king.comTwitter: @stephenBKing1
Facebook: @stephenbkingauthor
Blurb
After his wife loses interest in him, fifty-year-old Dave Barndon turns to the dark side of the Internet and sex chat rooms. There he finds willing partners who are happy to fulfil his needs with no strings attached. But they aren’t the only ones looking to play. When a woman he had an affair with is murdered he becomes the prime suspect. He thinks his alibi is solid until a second woman is murdered, and then a third. He fights for his freedom and redemption while the body count rises. He must figure out who is framing him and why before the killer strikes again.
Exclusive excerpt:
A constable opened the door and informed me my lawyer was waiting. I had pulled myself together by then, found some determination and I wanted to fight. No more tears, I determined. I had replaced grief with rage to somehow get even with the killer and protect my kids; I couldn’t do that from inside prison. I had no idea of the time as they had taken my watch from me. I was led to a room where Tom sat. He stood to his feet as I entered.“Thanks for coming, Tom. I appreciate it very much. I didn’t know who else to turn to.” He shook my hand shaking his head and said, “Dave, I’m so sorry to hear about your wife. This is nonsense; I’m convinced of that, but I’m not a criminal lawyer; I’m corporate, as you know. I can help today and see what they have on you and depending on how that goes, I know someone I can recommend. Now, sit down; we have about forty minutes before your interview. I’ve told them they have to wait until we have spoken. Tell me what the hell has happened.” He placed a recorder on the desk and turned it on, to save taking notes I supposed, and I told him every sordid detail of what I had been doing.“Dave, why didn’t you contact me after the first murder when the police spoke to you?”“Because I was innocent, and once I told them everything, they seemed to believe me. Apparently, the timing was wrong. There was no way I could have done it, and gotten to the casino to meet my brother, without a drop of blood on me.”“And after the second homicide, why not call me then?” He tapped the end of his biro on the table, and I sensed a touch of annoyance.“Same story; the pen incriminated me, but it disappeared earlier in the day. A guy called in at work while I wasn’t there on the pretense of leaving a note on my desk, and I’m sure he stole it. Therefore, he must be the murderer. I convinced the cops it couldn’t possibly have been me. They called Dianne to confirm what time I arrived home, and again there was not enough time for me to have done it and get home without being covered in blood. I couldn’t have beaten both victims to death without being splattered with it; it was messy and gory, apparently. Yet I was home in twenty minutes or so, and clean.”“Hmmm, you do realize the police tell lies, don’t you? They may well have evidence they have not disclosed to you leading them to think you are guilty, even though they appear to believe you.”“Tom, there is nothing, because I didn’t do it. You’ve known me twelve years. Do you think I could have murdered three women in six days, including my wife of twenty-six years? Is it not more plausible someone has it in for me and has set me up? What I can’t understand is why? I have no idea.”“Please understand it doesn’t matter what I think. Of course, I think you’re innocent, but that’s not the point. It only matters what they think they can prove. There are three things they look at: they are means, motive and opportunity.”
****
The above excerpt is from a pivotal point in the story of Dave’s descent after he has been arrested for three murders, the last being his wife who was his alibi for the second homicide.Dave is a handsome, successful fifty-year-old man who is general manager for a large Toyota Dealership. He adores his wife and grown up children, but some years before, when his wife approached early menopause, she lost all desire for him sexually but he never stopped wanting to make love with her. Through a series of events, beginning with a murder/mystery TV show Dave discovers a fascination for submissive women and decides, purely from a research point of view, to find out more. He discovers a dark internet world of sex chat rooms, and eventually a dating site specializing in married people looking for NSA meetings. Dave thinks that his wife Dianne has given him tacit approval for him to play around if it doesn’t impact on their life.Unknowingly, while Dave has discovered a treasure trove of willing partners, he has also attracted the attention of a murderous stalker. Suddenly, Dave’s lovers are killed one by one in such a way that Dave is the prime suspect. When Dianne is murdered while Dave is in the shower, he is arrested for three murders he didn’t commit.Dave is faced with serious problems. He must fight for his freedom, face his children and admit his secret life, find who has targeted him, and somehow find redemption to ease the guilt he feels.Domin8 was the second book I wrote (I’ve written twelve more since) when I was contracted to a major UK publisher. They wanted everything from me and I gave them the outline for D8 and they offered a contract. But that’s when the wheels fell off, the publisher was bought out by one of the big four and they closed the line I was contracted too. In desperation, while the legal battle continued, I hired an editor, finished the book and self-published it. Truth be told, I was never entirely happy with it, and in my heart knew the story demanded better from me, though it did pick up some fantastic reviews.Time and books passed and I found a new home with my wonderful publisher, The Wild Rose Press. About eighteen months ago, when I completed Book 3 of the Deadly Glimpses Trilogy, I picked up Domin8 and read it. I was horrified at the errors it contained, and I realized the editor I hired, perhaps wasn’t as good as I thought. I removed it from sale and began a major re-write, confidant that I could do a better job.I mentioned the outline, and what I was doing to my TWRP editor, Melanie Billings and she was intrigued, in fact, she asked to read it. I was delighted when she loved it and wanted to contract it and so began twelve months of editing. The nature of the story makes Domin8 hard to categorize. For me it’s a thriller and a whodunnit (only one person in ten has picked the murderer before he was revealed) but for TWRP the nature of Dave’s dalliances made it more erotic, and that made it hard to place in the right line. With Melanie’s help, I found the right balance, and from the very first draft of 150,000 words cut 43000 to the finished 103000. This is a case of less is more; fewer words told a much better story.My Beta readers, without exception rate Domin8 as one of the best stories they’ve read, and I am thrilled, finally, with the finished story. Thanks to Jennifer for letting ramble on about, what is, my favorite story, Domin8.
www.stephen-b-king.comTwitter: @stephenBKing1
Facebook: @stephenbkingauthor
BlurbAfter his wife loses interest in him, fifty-year-old Dave Barndon turns to the dark side of the Internet and sex chat rooms. There he finds willing partners who are happy to fulfil his needs with no strings attached. But they aren’t the only ones looking to play. When a woman he had an affair with is murdered he becomes the prime suspect. He thinks his alibi is solid until a second woman is murdered, and then a third. He fights for his freedom and redemption while the body count rises. He must figure out who is framing him and why before the killer strikes again.
Exclusive excerpt:
A constable opened the door and informed me my lawyer was waiting. I had pulled myself together by then, found some determination and I wanted to fight. No more tears, I determined. I had replaced grief with rage to somehow get even with the killer and protect my kids; I couldn’t do that from inside prison. I had no idea of the time as they had taken my watch from me. I was led to a room where Tom sat. He stood to his feet as I entered.“Thanks for coming, Tom. I appreciate it very much. I didn’t know who else to turn to.” He shook my hand shaking his head and said, “Dave, I’m so sorry to hear about your wife. This is nonsense; I’m convinced of that, but I’m not a criminal lawyer; I’m corporate, as you know. I can help today and see what they have on you and depending on how that goes, I know someone I can recommend. Now, sit down; we have about forty minutes before your interview. I’ve told them they have to wait until we have spoken. Tell me what the hell has happened.” He placed a recorder on the desk and turned it on, to save taking notes I supposed, and I told him every sordid detail of what I had been doing.“Dave, why didn’t you contact me after the first murder when the police spoke to you?”“Because I was innocent, and once I told them everything, they seemed to believe me. Apparently, the timing was wrong. There was no way I could have done it, and gotten to the casino to meet my brother, without a drop of blood on me.”“And after the second homicide, why not call me then?” He tapped the end of his biro on the table, and I sensed a touch of annoyance.“Same story; the pen incriminated me, but it disappeared earlier in the day. A guy called in at work while I wasn’t there on the pretense of leaving a note on my desk, and I’m sure he stole it. Therefore, he must be the murderer. I convinced the cops it couldn’t possibly have been me. They called Dianne to confirm what time I arrived home, and again there was not enough time for me to have done it and get home without being covered in blood. I couldn’t have beaten both victims to death without being splattered with it; it was messy and gory, apparently. Yet I was home in twenty minutes or so, and clean.”“Hmmm, you do realize the police tell lies, don’t you? They may well have evidence they have not disclosed to you leading them to think you are guilty, even though they appear to believe you.”“Tom, there is nothing, because I didn’t do it. You’ve known me twelve years. Do you think I could have murdered three women in six days, including my wife of twenty-six years? Is it not more plausible someone has it in for me and has set me up? What I can’t understand is why? I have no idea.”“Please understand it doesn’t matter what I think. Of course, I think you’re innocent, but that’s not the point. It only matters what they think they can prove. There are three things they look at: they are means, motive and opportunity.”
****
The above excerpt is from a pivotal point in the story of Dave’s descent after he has been arrested for three murders, the last being his wife who was his alibi for the second homicide.Dave is a handsome, successful fifty-year-old man who is general manager for a large Toyota Dealership. He adores his wife and grown up children, but some years before, when his wife approached early menopause, she lost all desire for him sexually but he never stopped wanting to make love with her. Through a series of events, beginning with a murder/mystery TV show Dave discovers a fascination for submissive women and decides, purely from a research point of view, to find out more. He discovers a dark internet world of sex chat rooms, and eventually a dating site specializing in married people looking for NSA meetings. Dave thinks that his wife Dianne has given him tacit approval for him to play around if it doesn’t impact on their life.Unknowingly, while Dave has discovered a treasure trove of willing partners, he has also attracted the attention of a murderous stalker. Suddenly, Dave’s lovers are killed one by one in such a way that Dave is the prime suspect. When Dianne is murdered while Dave is in the shower, he is arrested for three murders he didn’t commit.Dave is faced with serious problems. He must fight for his freedom, face his children and admit his secret life, find who has targeted him, and somehow find redemption to ease the guilt he feels.Domin8 was the second book I wrote (I’ve written twelve more since) when I was contracted to a major UK publisher. They wanted everything from me and I gave them the outline for D8 and they offered a contract. But that’s when the wheels fell off, the publisher was bought out by one of the big four and they closed the line I was contracted too. In desperation, while the legal battle continued, I hired an editor, finished the book and self-published it. Truth be told, I was never entirely happy with it, and in my heart knew the story demanded better from me, though it did pick up some fantastic reviews.Time and books passed and I found a new home with my wonderful publisher, The Wild Rose Press. About eighteen months ago, when I completed Book 3 of the Deadly Glimpses Trilogy, I picked up Domin8 and read it. I was horrified at the errors it contained, and I realized the editor I hired, perhaps wasn’t as good as I thought. I removed it from sale and began a major re-write, confidant that I could do a better job.I mentioned the outline, and what I was doing to my TWRP editor, Melanie Billings and she was intrigued, in fact, she asked to read it. I was delighted when she loved it and wanted to contract it and so began twelve months of editing. The nature of the story makes Domin8 hard to categorize. For me it’s a thriller and a whodunnit (only one person in ten has picked the murderer before he was revealed) but for TWRP the nature of Dave’s dalliances made it more erotic, and that made it hard to place in the right line. With Melanie’s help, I found the right balance, and from the very first draft of 150,000 words cut 43000 to the finished 103000. This is a case of less is more; fewer words told a much better story.My Beta readers, without exception rate Domin8 as one of the best stories they’ve read, and I am thrilled, finally, with the finished story. Thanks to Jennifer for letting ramble on about, what is, my favorite story, Domin8.
April 6, 2020
Back to Basics
I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been quarantined. I know it’s absolutely essential to continue. I know essential workers have a much tougher time than I do, risking their lives daily so I can eventually get back to normal. I know I’m lucky to be with my family.
I tell myself those things daily. It’s my new mantra when I wake up. But that doesn’t stop me from frustration. And it didn’t stop me from completely melting down this weekend.
But it’s Monday, my used-to-be favorite day of the week. I say “used-to-be” because back when we were allowed to leave our homes, Monday was the day my life at home got back to normal when everyone else left for school and work. Now? Our daily routines are the same and everyone is always here.
However, it’s a new day and a new week, and I’m actually able to see some benefits to this situation.
My kids have been amazing. Humble brag here, but they haven’t fought. I know, I just jinxed it. They’ve gotten along, they’re actively practicing tolerance with each other—I can see it, although I’m smart enough not to comment on it. They’re not perfect and they have their moments, but considering their lives have been completely upended, they’re doing better than I ever could have predicted.
The Princess is finally enjoying family games. She never likes them, so this is huge. Granted, it’s only one game, and the rest of us are going to get tired of it (especially since she’s good at it) eventually, but I’ll play it every day just to see the smile in her eyes.
We’re doing a family puzzle. My husband has tried for years to get everyone to do a puzzle together. He was so unsuccessful that I managed to convince him to get rid of all the ones we had put away for the family to do, since the family wasn’t going to do them. Well, guess who asked to do one? So we pulled out one that we’ve had for twelve years, still shrink wrapped, from our family vacation to England and France (remember those days when we could travel???). And we’ve started working on it. Together. Did I mention no one is fighting? Despite the very different ways we all approach puzzles.
My girls are cooking and baking. On one of the days this weekend when I completely lost it, my husband took me on a walk to clear my head. I grumbled the entire time. But I came home to a meal cooked by The Princess! And yesterday, Banana Girl made slutty brownies (oh my god, they’re delicious and I don’t care that Passover is right around the corner).
We linger over dinner, the four of us, finding things to talk about other than our day, which remains the same. We check in on each other and our family and friends. And while life is definitely smaller and more contained, I also feel like it’s growing—kinda like the Grinch’s heart, but without the cheesy music.
So, no matter how bad it is, and I recognize it’s bad, work hard to find the small joys. They’re there. And identifying them just might make them grow.
Stay safe, stay inside, and flatten the curve!
I tell myself those things daily. It’s my new mantra when I wake up. But that doesn’t stop me from frustration. And it didn’t stop me from completely melting down this weekend.
But it’s Monday, my used-to-be favorite day of the week. I say “used-to-be” because back when we were allowed to leave our homes, Monday was the day my life at home got back to normal when everyone else left for school and work. Now? Our daily routines are the same and everyone is always here.
However, it’s a new day and a new week, and I’m actually able to see some benefits to this situation.
My kids have been amazing. Humble brag here, but they haven’t fought. I know, I just jinxed it. They’ve gotten along, they’re actively practicing tolerance with each other—I can see it, although I’m smart enough not to comment on it. They’re not perfect and they have their moments, but considering their lives have been completely upended, they’re doing better than I ever could have predicted.
The Princess is finally enjoying family games. She never likes them, so this is huge. Granted, it’s only one game, and the rest of us are going to get tired of it (especially since she’s good at it) eventually, but I’ll play it every day just to see the smile in her eyes.
We’re doing a family puzzle. My husband has tried for years to get everyone to do a puzzle together. He was so unsuccessful that I managed to convince him to get rid of all the ones we had put away for the family to do, since the family wasn’t going to do them. Well, guess who asked to do one? So we pulled out one that we’ve had for twelve years, still shrink wrapped, from our family vacation to England and France (remember those days when we could travel???). And we’ve started working on it. Together. Did I mention no one is fighting? Despite the very different ways we all approach puzzles.
My girls are cooking and baking. On one of the days this weekend when I completely lost it, my husband took me on a walk to clear my head. I grumbled the entire time. But I came home to a meal cooked by The Princess! And yesterday, Banana Girl made slutty brownies (oh my god, they’re delicious and I don’t care that Passover is right around the corner).
We linger over dinner, the four of us, finding things to talk about other than our day, which remains the same. We check in on each other and our family and friends. And while life is definitely smaller and more contained, I also feel like it’s growing—kinda like the Grinch’s heart, but without the cheesy music.
So, no matter how bad it is, and I recognize it’s bad, work hard to find the small joys. They’re there. And identifying them just might make them grow.
Stay safe, stay inside, and flatten the curve!
