S.C. Mitchell's Blog, page 18

October 29, 2015

Thoughts for Thursday… NaNoWriMo the nightmare or the savior???

Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:


lovechatwrite longbanner



Welcome back to Romance Writers Weekly’s Thoughts for Thursday!!! I’m J.J. Devine and you can find my historical and paranormal romances over at Amazon.



I’ve been writing for quite a few years, (20 years writing romance to be exact), but only in the last seven have I gotten serious about writing romance novels for publication.



NaNo-2015-Participant-Banner



Each year at this time for the last six years I’ve taken up the NaNoWriMo challenge. What in the heck is NaNoWriMo, you ask? National Novel Writing Month. It comes around every November 1st and it is 30 days of pure agony and torture for any writer who chooses to pick up the challenge, LOL. Your goal is to write at least a 50,000 word novel, 1667 words a day, from November 1st to November 30th. Yes, it is possible I promise, although I haven’t finished since the first two years…


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Published on October 29, 2015 09:27

October 22, 2015

THOUGHTS FOR THURSDAY- Falling Down the Rabbit Hole of Naughty Words

Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:


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Hi all~ Kristi Rose here. It’s my turn to blog  and I thought I’d take you on a little journey that I inadvertently went on one day:-)



Falling Down the Rabbit Hole of Naughty Words 



I recently finished writing a book where the heroine had a potty mouth (she would’ve been called a muck spout long ago). Sometimes I loved that she couldn’t care less what others thought and sometimes I hesitated to write the combination of profanity that she’d likely string together. Left me looking over my shoulder much like a criminal. I think we can all agree that western culture has become a tad…desensitized, but am I the only one who enjoys our societal evolution but cringes from it as well?



This entire internal debate took me down into a rabbit hole that I’m sharing with you today.



A young woman is drinking coffee and is displaying an obscene gesture with her fingers



We all know that naughty words are born out of…


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Published on October 22, 2015 17:52

Thursday Threads – The Widow’s Walk

Today on Thursday Threads we feature Carole Ann Moleti and her haunting novel, The Widow’s Walk:



20150206 Finalwidowswalk_200


Paranormal Romance
Sexy, Heat Level 3-4


(available in ebook and print)


http://www.amazon.com/Widows-Walk-Carole-Ann-Moleti-ebook/dp/B00PHYCLHY


Blurb:

Mike and Liz Keeny are newlyweds, new parents, and the proprietors of the Barrett Inn, an 1875 Victorian on Cape Cod, which just happens to be haunted. By their own ghosts. The Inn had become an annex of Purgatory, putting Mike, Liz, and their infant son in danger. Selling the historic seaside bed and breakfast was the only answer, one that Liz and her own tortured specter refused to consider. Were they doomed to follow the same path that led to disaster in their previous lives? Was getting out, getting away, enough?


Excerpt:

Look, for now, we’ll just stay where we are–together. If Liz and Mike are united, then Jared and Elisabeth aren’t going to be able to get in between us.” He brushed the tears off her cheeks.


She stared at him intently, fear, maybe desperation in her eyes. “We can only talk to each other about this. Others might use any information against us.”


“Who would do that, Liz?’


Her demeanor hardened. She sat up, raised her chin. “My son. Your daughter. Sandra.”


“You’re paranoid. The kids have no inkling about ghosts. All Sandra has are theories. She doesn’t know about your incident–or my illness. And I’m not going to tell her.” Guilt twanged in his gut. Sandra had come up with all the ghostly interpretations on her own, right?


Liz jumped up. “She knows about my injury. Maybe not how it happened, but when Mae went in there to get my things, she figured out it was for me. She reads minds, or manipulates people into blabbing what they know.”


Mike lowered his voice to a whisper. “It doesn’t take much for Mae to spill information. I think you’re giving Sandra too much credit.” Yet, she did ask him about the ghosts as soon as he sat down.


“You can joke all you want, Mike, but this is serious. We can’t let anyone else in.”


“I won’t say a word about anything ghostly to anyone. As long as things stay under control.”


Liz studied him.


Mike squirmed. “I think I’m going to take a nap.” He settled back on the sofa.


She tucked the blanket around him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll go help Mae with dinner.”


She didn’t believe him. He didn’t trust her. This was never going to work.


Author Bio

Carole Ann Moleti lives and works as a nurse-midwife in New York City, thus explaining20150206 ColorreservedTN her fascination with all things paranormal, urban fantasy, and space opera. Her nonfiction focuses on health care, politics, and women’s issues. But her first love is writing science fiction and fantasy because walking through walls is less painful than running into them.


Carole’s Cape Cod paranormal romance novel, The Widow’s Walk, was published by Soulmate. Her urban fantasy short stories have appeared in the Toil, Trouble and Temptation Anthology and Haunted, Bites, Beltane, and Seers, all part of the Ten Tales series. Her review and commentary, memoir excerpts and creative non-fiction have been published in a variety of literary venues.


Buy Link

http://amzn.com/B00PHYCLHY


Where to find Carole:

http://amazon.com/author/carolemoleti


http://caroleannmoleti.blogspot.com/p/the-widows-walk.html


http://Twitter.com/Cmoleti


https://www.facebook.com/caroleannmoleti


http://amazon.com/author/carolemoleti


http://caroleannmoleti.com


plus.google.com/103609323247390103301


https://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomCmoleti


http://www.pinterest.com/caroleannmoleti/


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Published on October 22, 2015 07:34

October 20, 2015

Romance Weekly – Reimagine

Love Write Chat
Welcome to the romance Writers Weekly blog hop, where every week a great group of romance writers answer questions and accept challenges. Diverse in what we write, we are unified in the quest to bring you, the romance reader, a very happy ever after.
RWW also has a website with its own blog, a newsletter, and can be found on Facebook, and Twitter (@RWWBlog).

ASpioritedLove


If you’ve wondered in from Gemma Brocato’s blog post or are just starting your hop here with me, get set for some rewrites. And check out her new release, A Spirited Love:


 


Our challenge comes from Dani Jace – Flash Fiction: Pick a short scene from a book, movie or TV show that didn’t go the way you wanted. Rewrite the scene the way you would have written in 500 word or less.


 


Okay, maybe it’s just Halloween in the air, but my head went here:


 


Today I’m doing a rewrite on a classic romantic film. Stop this video at the 1:30 mark, because that’s where I’m giving them a different reason to be Sleepless in Seattle:



Sleepless in Seattle.

(Rewrite)


Dumbstruck in the road, Annie struggled for words. A car horn blared in her ears. Sam’s eyes widened.


She turned to confront an approaching taxi. The driver skidded his breaks while motioning, pointing toward the curb.


She spun and took a step toward her car, ready to escape, as embarrassment washed over her. But the bushes on the hillside were alive, moving and shaking though there was no discernible wind.


Rank purification filled the air as a host of figures shambled out of the foliage. They’d once been people, or at least that’s what it looked like. Now gray skin hung shriveled on loose frames. Tattered clothing barely covered the animated skeletal remains.


Zombies? It was the only explanation that fit.


Annie backed away, back into the traffic. Speeding cars held only a fraction of the terror of the things that approached her.


“Come on.” A deep male voice from behind.


A warm hand clasped hers, pulling. Annie turned to stare into the piercing gaze of Sam.


“I don’t know what these things are, but we’ve got to get out of here.” His voice a calm oasis in the storm of terror that whirled through her mind.


He dragged her across the highway. Horns continued to blare around her, but whether they were honking at her or the hoard of zombies that pursued her, she couldn’t say.


Sam reached out and took the hand of the small boy waiting on the other side of the roadway. Is that Jonah?


“Everybody get in my truck . . . now!” Sam’s commanding voice compelled Annie to rush toward the vehicle. The woman . . . the one he’d hugged . . . clambered in to sit beside her in the back as Sam hoisted Jonah into the front seat then climbed behind the wheel.


The woman beside her was shaking, her eyes wide. “Where are we going?”


By the time Sam had backed out of his parking space, the creatures were flooding the street, the foremost already across and coming straight for the vehicle. He floored the accelerator, mowing down three of them before reaching the highway. “There’s a Wal-Mart about a mile from here. It will be our best hope of surviving this. They’ll have food, guns, and thick walls.”


He weaved through the heavy traffic as more and more of the restless undead appeared on the side of the roadway ahead. An invasion. An Apocalypse.


“I’m Sam, by the way.” How the hell could he be in such control?


“Annie.” She replied.


***

So, did they make it? Of course. Did they end up falling in love? Of course. Did anyone else survive? Hmm…


Okay, hop on over to see what Dani Jace rewrote as the Romance Writers Weekly blog hop continues at: http://www.danijace.com


 


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Published on October 20, 2015 09:00

October 15, 2015

Thursday Threads – FOREST OF THE MIST: Awakening

Today on Thursday Threads we feature FOREST OF THE MIST: Awakening by Carly Jordynn:


forestofhtemistawakening


TITLE: FOREST OF THE MIST: Awakening

GENRE: YA Fantasy Romance

HEAT LEVEL: 3


BLURB:

Upon awakening from the coma that put her in the alternate realm known as Paradise Valley, Jennifer Burke Kyle discovered her infant son was half-grown, had some rather unique powers, and was the new leader of Paradise and the adjoining Dark Land. If that wasn’t enough to make her want to go back to sleep, she finds her dead husband, David Kyle, has ordered a complete stranger, Alex McGuire, to marry her and raise her young son as his own. Together, Alex and Jennifer, with the help of Davy, must escape the agents of PRI, a government research group, in order to protect the still comatose, Colin O’Brien.


AMAZON BUY LINK: http://www.amzn.com/B012T8JT5W/


EXCERPT:

“What?” Jennifer said. “I’m not ready to be married to you. I don’t even know you.”


Alex had had just about enough of her routine. “Listen, sweetheart, it’s no picnic being with you either. I’m tired of trying to live up to your lofty expectations. I’m not David Kyle, nor would I want to be. I’m doing this all for you, to protect you and Davy. A little gratitude would be welcome.”


“Excuse me?” Anger flashed in her eyes. “You are darn lucky that I even give you the time of day. You overbearing, egotistical control freak.”


“Control freak!” Alex shouted weakly. “Are we back to that song and dance again? Can’t you come up with some original material? I’ve busted my ass in order to help you, and you have the nerve to say I’m controlling you?”


“Oh, what a load of crap, Alex! You are not doing this for me or Davy. You are doing it for Lily.” Jennifer spun away from him in disgust.


Alex wanted to pound something in frustration, but he could barely move his arms. “For crying out loud, Jennifer, Lily isn’t here. She married Connor. They moved away. Lily has nothing to do with this. If she did, I would already be in Texas. I’m here with you because I want to be with you.”


“You do not know me!” she shouted.


“Because you won’t let me get to know you!” Alex countered.


Alex stopped speaking. His face turned red. Spots appeared before his eyes, and he had a hard time catching his breath. He saw Jennifer back away from him as the machine he was hooked up to began to scream. A team of doctors rushed into the room and began working on him. Alex felt himself begin to fade and then he was gone.


 


Carly Jordynn


ALSO BY CARLY JORDYNN:

FOREST OF THE MIST: Travelers http://www.amzn.com/B00ND8C3RE/


SASHA BISHOP: Retired Slayer http://www.amzn.com/B00O99U4V8/


CARLY’s SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:

http://www.carlyjordynn.com/


www.facebook.com/carlyjordynn777


www.twitter.com/@CarlyJordynn


www.pinterest.com/CarlyJordynn


http://carlyjordynn.blogspot.com/


https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7200409.Carly_Jordynn


 


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Published on October 15, 2015 08:42

THOUGHTS FOR THURSDAY: Fall Traditions

scmitchell:

A great post from the Romance Writers Weekly blog:


Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:


1-1192373997Good Morning!



Jo Richardson here.



I’m excited to be hosting this week’s “Thoughts for Thursday” feature.  When I thought about what to write on today, the first thing that popped into my head, of course, was Halloween. And as tempting as it was to join in on that fun, I’ve done a lot of that in past years. Don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween. But I love FALL in general, even more. Always have. Especially when we lived up North. It was absolutely my most favorite time of the year (no offense, Christmas).



That might possibly be why my first published book was about ghosts and witches and takes place in a little known town called, hmmmm, Salem, Massachusetts.



I digress, though. Because today I’m not talking stories, I’m talking annual, fall type, fun traditions.



I grew up in Maryland but these days, I live in Florida, so…


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Published on October 15, 2015 07:32

October 8, 2015

Thursday Threads – My Sexy Valentine

Today on Thursday Threads we feature the wonderful Tina Susedik and the fun filled Soul Mate Valentines Day anthology, My Sexy Valentine:


(And hey, I have a story in here as well.)


MySexyValentine600 Digital


ANTHOLOGY HEAT LEVEL: STEAMY


 


Blurb for The Valentine’s Proposal:


When a Valentine’s Day proposal doesn’t go the way she expected, librarian Janetta Simonson’s life changes in ways she’s never dreamed.


BUY LINK: My Sexy Valentine: http://amzn.com/B00SSFM1OChttp:/amzn.com/B00SSFM1OC



EXCERPT FROM The Valentine’s Proposal:


Devlin Baran followed the statuesque brunette as she stomped from the woman’s room and headed to the bar. His cock twitched as her hips swayed in tight jeans. Was the guy who dumped her crazy? To trade in this hot piece for the washed-out blonde?


He’d noticed her the moment she’d walked into the building. Full breasts. Tapered waist. Not too thin. Tall. His body had reacted immediately. He liked his women tall. He’d been ready to join her when the jerk arrived. During their argument he’d called her Janetta. The name seemed to suit her.


Pseudo cowboys irritated the hell out of him. New boots, shiny belt buckle, cheesy western shirt were all signs. But even real cowhands dressed up for a Saturday night on the town, so he could be mistaken. When the man tossed his hat brim side down on the table, Devlin knew him to be a fake. Any real westerner knew you put your hat top side down so not to ruin the folds.


Since he was out of luck with the brunette, he’d headed to the men’s room, where he observed the encounter. He nearly applauded when the woman smacked the pretend cowboy across the cheek and threw the ring into the crowd. Hell. Not only did he like them tall, he loved them spirited, like his fillies on his ranch.


As she headed to the bar, he shook his head. He couldn’t let a hot woman interfere with the job he had to do, needing all his focus to find out who was slipping drugs into women’s drinks. As a rancher working undercover as an FBI agent, he always seemed to be one-step behind the assholes who thought it fine to have sex with unconscious women.


The man, or men, moved from bar to bar in the small rural area. This was the only one that hadn’t been hit. He hoped to hit pay dirt tonight.


He tried to ignore Janetta’s shapely ass as she sat on a stool next to another pseudo cowboy. She must have a thing for their type. After taking her time with one drink, the man tipped his overly white Stetson, leaned in and said something, making her laugh. The back of Devlin’s neck prickled. He seemed familiar.


What was she thinking, Devlin wondered as she let the guy put his hand on her thigh. Even though she oozed sex appeal, after her encounter with Fred, he had the feeling she wasn’t a sexually aggressive person. She seemed more like a kindergarten teacher.


Janetta took a sip of her orange-colored drink and spoke to the man—who threw his head back and laughed. The hand went a bit further up her leg. She took another drink and swayed into him. Maybe he was wrong and she was just another floozy looking to pick up an unsuspecting cowboy.


The man swung an arm around her shoulders and lifted the glass to her lips. Her head dropped into his neck. He glanced over his shoulder and snuggled her into his side. After a few minutes he pulled her from the stool, and like a man helping a drunk companion, headed toward the door.


Shit. She’s been drugged.


 


ALSO BY TINA SUSEDIK: 20151018 Tina Susedik


Riding for Love: http://www.amazon.com/Riding-for-Love-ebook/dp/B00CLJD31Q


http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/riding-for-love-tina-susedik/1119333999?ean=9781619354289


 


All I Want for Christmas is a Soul Mate: http://www.amzn.com/B00GH2I458/


 


Where to find Tina:


http://www.soulmatepublishing.com/riding-for-love/


Website: TinaSusedik.com


Blog: http://tinasusedik.wordpress.com./


Twitter: @tinasusedik


Facebook: Tina Susedik, Author


Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17908316-riding-for-love


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Published on October 08, 2015 08:02

The Recipe Box

Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:




To me, my mom’s recipe box is like a magic box. But rather than containing spells and potions, it holds a treasure trove of tastes from previous generations. Written on paper weathered by time and dotted with smears of chocolate or dabs of oil, it allows a wonderful trip down memory lane, or a peak into a time long since forgotten. 



I see my grandmom’s recipe for meatballs or pizzelles, and brushing a finger over her handwriting makes me feel like she’s right there with me. Or my mom’s recipe for Christmas cut-out cookies, and remember how year after year, she’d let us invade the kitchen like a bunch of deranged elves and decorate the cookies to our hearts’ content.



Tucked among the countless number of cards are recipes only eaten at special holidays, notes dashed off correcting ingredient quantities or cooking times, recipes for cleaning solution (yep, vinegar is…


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Published on October 08, 2015 04:52

October 1, 2015

THOUGHTS FOR THURSDAY: LOVING A NON-ROMANTIC WITHOUT KILLING HIM

Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:


It’s no secret that I’m a die hard romantic. I LOVE love. I love writing about it, talking about it, reading about it. Watching it on television and movies, and watching it happen in real life in all its glorious forms.



I’ve always been like this.  My grandparents, who are from Virginia’s coal mining country, were married when my grandma was fifteen and grandpa was seventeen. He loved to tell us about how they lived next door to each other and he would irritate my grandma until she threw rocks at him.  10527680_935058676511516_3478923150679919034_n



My grandpa wasn’t a person who teased. But he adored my grandma’s temper. She’s short (shorter than me, and I’m five foot even) to his tall, but her temper is legendary. But in all my 39 years, the only person I ever heard her yell at was Grandpa. One of my favorite memories happened just a few years…


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Published on October 01, 2015 15:01

Thursday Threads – Jesse’s Girl

Today on Thursday Threads we feature the wonderful Char Chaffin and her nostalgia romance, Jesse’s Girl:


JessesGirl


 


TITLE: JESSE’S GIRL

AUTHOR: CHAR CHAFFIN

GENRE: NOSTALGIA ROMANCE

HEAT LEVEL: SWEET/SENSUAL


 


BLURB:


Tim O’Malley returns to his home town of Skitter Lake, Ohio, to clear his name and get the girl: Dorothy Whitaker, the love of his life since eighth grade. Blamed for a destructive fire he didn’t set, only Tim and Dorothy know the truth; that Jesse Prescott, Tim’s best friend and Dorothy’s boyfriend, did the deed that changed an entire town. But Jesse died in that tragedy and seven years later, Skitter Lake still honors him as a hero, rather than Tim, the boy from the seedy side of town whose father was a drunk . . . and whose quick actions saved six people from perishing in that horrendous fire.


 


In trying to set the record straight and finally claim Dorothy as his own, Tim—and Dorothy, too—will discover that in some small towns the legend often outweighs the truth . . . and their family and friends will forever see Dorothy as “Jesse’s girl.”


 


AMAZON BUY LINK: http://www.amzn.com/B00JK0DUD0/

BOOK TRAILER: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjWlGAvbbrM


 

EXCERPT:

Now the need to lock Dorothy in a tight embrace, and never let go, overwhelmed him. He would have picked her up and carried her to his car, then driven her all the way back to Los Angeles just to get her away from a life he instinctively knew made her miserable. Tim remembered her folks. Wilma Whitaker had been a difficult woman when she was healthy and relatively happy. He couldn’t imagine how losing Dorothy’s dad would have twisted Wilma up inside.


 

He must have squeezed too tightly, because Dorothy let out a breathy gasp and wriggled until he loosened his arms. She stepped backward with a blush and downcast eyes. “I really do have to go, Tim.” She raised her head and all the longing he’d already been experiencing, all the need, was plain to see on her lovely face, for about half a second.


 

Then, her expression shuttered, she picked up her purse from the battered nightstand next to the bed where she’d laid it, and moved toward the door. Tim followed, unsure what to say even though a hundred different lines crowded his head. Stay with me. Get to know me, again. Love me, the way I never stopped loving you.


 

They remained locked behind his compressed lips as he escorted her to the door and wished the last seven years had never happened.


 

In the open doorway she formed a smile that fell short of her eyes. “I’m glad we got to spend a little time together, Tim.” She slipped her arms around his waist for a quicksilver hug, then stepped back before he could reciprocate. “Please give your folks my best when you get back home.”


 

Tim flicked his eyes up to hers, then over her face, prettier than ever and without a speck of makeup. Her silky, red-blonde hair, combed back in its usual ponytail, was so unlike the current style he’d seen not only in California but here in Skitter Lake. Her dress wouldn’t have been out of place at the sock hops he remembered from twelfth grade. It was almost as if Dorothy Whitaker had frozen herself in time.


 

And he suddenly knew he wouldn’t be leaving at the end of the week. He’d stick around and see what was what. For Dorothy, and maybe even for Jesse.


 

Slowly, Tim reached out and clasped her fingers, then her wrist. Before he could talk himself out of it, he yanked her into his arms, up against his body, catching the back of her head, right below her ponytail. As her lips parted to speak, protest, whatever, he covered them with a kiss that spun out of control the instant it began. He wound an arm around her waist to anchor her tightly, but she’d already thrust her hands into his hair as she kissed him back. Tim groaned into her mouth and felt it echo back to him in the whimper she uttered that throbbed in the scant space between them.


 

For what seemed like an eternity, he kissed her, deep, then slow, then fast, greedy, pouring years of want and desire into a single, perfect moment. If he’d ever kissed another woman like this, he couldn’t remember. He deepened the kiss even more, and felt her fingers fist reflexively in his hair. He didn’t care if she ripped it out by the handfuls, as long as she never let go.


 

And as if she’d somehow heard his thoughts, she stiffened, opened her fists, slapped her hands on his chest, and pushed until he released her lips. Rosy red and swollen, they quivered as she stared up at him with shock in her eyes. She pushed again, a silent demand for him to let her go. It about killed him, but he loosened his arms and stepped back.


 

Silently, Tim bent to pick up the purse she’d dropped, and gave it to her. As her fingers closed over the pale yellow leather, she whispered, “Why?”


 

He managed—barely—to keep his hands to himself as he replied, “Because I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying. And when I do leave, Dorothy, you’ll be coming with me.”


***


 


Char Chaffin


Char Chaffin writes multi-genre romance filled with family, rich characters and engaging plots. For her, it all comes back to the love.


A displaced Alaskan, Char travels extensively, and lives full-time in a motorhome with hubby Don, a retired Air Force man with a love of Fifties rock n’ roll and a passion for hot, classic cars. Between them they have three children and four grandchildren, all scattered to the far corners of the country.


Her love of romance and erotica interspersed with paranormal, horror, science fiction and fantasy has inflated her reading collection into several groaning bookcases and an overburdened Kindle. Char voraciously reads in between writing novels, novellas, and short stories. She is multi-published, and always working on that next manuscript.


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Published on October 01, 2015 06:19