Melissa Snark's Blog: The Snarkology, page 44
February 18, 2015
Portrait of a Lone Wolf By Katalina Leon #Romance @Katalina_Leon
Portrait of a Lone Wolf is book 7 in Decadent Publishing’s multi-author series, Black Hills Wolves. Portrait of a Lone Wolf is my first contribution to the series. I have a second book coming soon.
A mixed-blood Native American wolf-shifter, abandoned by a teenage mother and ignored by an absentee father, Rio Waya has never fit in or felt worthy of love. But when he comes home to the Black Hills, he realizes he wants a mate of his own.
Recovering from a cheating ex who started a new family behind her back, Sela López seeks escape to pull her life back together. As a documentary filmmaker and wildlife photographer, she rents a cabin in the Black Hills with plans to film the beleaguered wolf population. But she’s so busy looking through a camera lens she doesn’t see trouble coming.
Sparks fly as mutual fears and vulnerabilities surface when Sela and Rio meet. She can’t figure out why the mysterious Mr. Waya is so anxious about having a documentary made of the Black Hills Wolves. But when his secret is exposed, all hell breaks loose. Can Rio win Sela’s trust and soothe her fears about allowing a hunky wolf-shifter into her heart?
Available from:
Excerpt:
Following her nose through the front door, she was thrust into a honky-tonk time warp. Bars like this one didn’t exist in Los Angeles. The Den was cozy enough but appeared to have been decorated by a taxidermist in the late seventies and zealously preserved since. The shaggy heads of several unfortunate buffalo dominated the far wall. At the front door, two stuffed raccoons offered a mock greeting with outstretched paws. The chairs, booths, and even a few of the tables were covered in forest green vinyl. No doubt a sticky misery to come in contact with on a hot day.
Movement caught her eye. A burly man with an inscrutable expression rose from behind a counter as if he was part of a magic act. He was tall with a barrel chest. A nappy brown sweater coupled with hunched posture lent him a distinctly bearlike appearance.
The dour gentleman focused on Sela with a frown. “Where did you come from?”
Steppenwolf’s “Born To Be Wild” was cranked to eleven. She had to shout to be heard, “Can I order some food to go?”
The saggy-faced Papa bear behind the counter appeared perturbed. “Fair warning, miss. The kitchen’s closed. Pretty sure we don’t have what you want.”
The explosive clack of a pool cue making hard contact with a ball nearly drowned her out. “Except for you, everything’s closed in this town!”
A few customers cast her a brief glance then looked away. The lucky bastards sat in front of pitchers of cold beer, towering hamburgers, paired with heaps of french fries or onion rings. Her stomach growled embarrassingly loud, but she doubted anyone could hear above the blaring music. “Something smells heavenly. Could I at least order onion rings to go?”
Bear man shook his head. “Sorry. No can do. Fryer’s turned off.”
“Really?” Digging through her purse, she wondered if this place would accept a credit card. “I’m willing to pay a little extra for the trouble.”
With a sullen pout, he rubbed a limp rag across the countertop. “After hours The Den ain’t open to the general public. Guess what? It’s after hours.”
“Oh, come on!” She sounded desperate.
A man in a red plaid shirt, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, sat at the counter. He shot her a smoldering look filled with mixed emotions. Perhaps he was angry or lost in thought. She couldn’t tell. The flash of fire in his eyes beneath brooding black brows was impossible to decipher. When he opened his mouth, the tough gravel voice of a drill sergeant rumbled out. “Gee, don’t be a hard ass. Get the lady some onion rings.”
The lumbering hairy thing behind the counter, presumably named Gee, thrust out his bottom lip and lifted his hands into the air in mock surrender. “Why not? It’s not like my house rules ever get any respect anyway.”
From the corner of her eye, Sela glimpsed a huge silver-furred canine dart from under a table, push a swinging door open with its muzzle, and disappear.
“Did I just see a wolf?” Sela gasped.
Bio:
Katalina Leon is an artist and author who can’t commit to a single genre. Her favorite playgrounds are historical, Sci-fi, contemporary, and most of all paranormal realms. Katalina brings a sense of adventure and a touch of the mystical to erotic romance. She believes there’s a daring heroine inside every woman who wants to take a wild ride with a strong worthy hero.
Black Hills Wolves, “Portrait of a Lone Wolf” book 7, Katalina Leon
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/katalinaleon/
Facebook: www.facebook.com/katalina.leon.142?ref=tn_tnmn
Twitter: @Katalina_Leon
Snark Bites: Filtering Words
In fiction, the objective of storytelling is to provide such a deep point of view that the barriers between the character and the reader vanish. The reader should feel as they they are the character.
Filter words stand between this magical immersion by creating degrees of separation or a perceivable layer in identity.
Filter words are those terms that lead to telling rather than showing. They do so by:
Dictating emotions.
Recapping for readers
Telling the reader what to think.
The following are examples of filter words:
Understood
Thought
Knew
Felt
Saw
Heard
Smelled
Told
Started to
Began to
Perceived
Recognized
Began to
Seemed
The following is an example of a filter word in use: “Joe saw the red chair.”
Better: “The red chair’s broken leg jutted out at an angle that made it dangerous to an unaware passersby.”
This is a recap and slight expansion of a post from the original Snarkology.
February 17, 2015
The Write Pet: A Cat on the Lap…Or at Least Nearby by Mary Gillgannon #amwriting #TWRP
Daisy was my first writing cat. I had an old-fashioned CRT monitor, which looked like a little square TV set. Like all electronic equipment, it got warm, and Daisy used to sleep on top of it, enjoying the warmth. Eventually it died, probably from overheating from having the vent on top plugged up with cat hair, and I got an LCD monitor, which didn’t have a place for her to sleep on.
My next writing cat was Nikki, who slept on my lap as I wrote. Nikki had a traumatic kittenhood, as my sister-in-law found her abandoned in her yard, wet and cold in the Wyoming spring. My husband didn’t really want another cat (we had Daisy and another one already), but Nikki was discovered a few days after my nephew died of SIDS. My husband’s large family was devastated and seeing all the adults they knew so distraught had really affected my children, who were young teenagers at the time. I thought the kitten would be a good distraction, and they both begged me to keep her, especially my son, who promised to do whatever was necessary to take care of her.
At six weeks old, Nikki wasn’t really ready to leave her mother, and required frequent 
feedings of kitten formula for a couple of weeks before we got her to eat cat food. She thrived and turned into a beautiful cat, but the trauma of her background had affected her. I always say Nikki has PSTD. She can be a sweet loving cat, purring on your lap one minute and then start snarling and hissing the next. If she gets scared, she might take a swipe at you, or even bite. And if she thinks you’re following her in the house, she will turn around and growl. Then, thirty seconds later, she is fine and purring again.
Nikki spent countless hours on my lap as I typed away and kept me company through a half dozen books. But eventually my children moved out and we decided to remodel the upstairs and create a real office for me. I assumed when it was finished, that Nikki would join me upstairs. But my office turned out to be too attractive to our other cats. They bullied Nikki the few times she ventured upstairs, and soon I couldn’t get her to go up there at all.
I was sad to lose her comforting warmth on my lap, but I’m hardly lonely when I write as our other three cats and the dog all spend a lot of time in my office. Benjamin spends the most time there. My daughter and I picked him out as a kitten from the local animal shelter and he really is “my boy”. He doesn’t sit on my lap, but sleeps on the couch nearby and will “chirp” at me to get me to pet him or follow him downstairs to give him treats in the kitchen.
And Nikki, who is sixteen now, isn’t so bad off. Her place of comfort these days is my husband’s chest. She seeks him out in his office (he works from home) or down in the family room as he watches TV. And she sleeps with us at night, either cuddled up next to me or on top of him.
I can’t imagine writing without my animals around. They are comforting companions in my office and provide distraction and entertainment as they cavort on the roof below my office window and in the yard. Like my first cat Tommy, who kept me company as I tramped around the Illinois countryside for hours, telling myself stories, they are intrinsic to the imaginative, creative part of myself that makes writing possible.
In the ninth century, Irish warrior Connar fell hopelessly in love with Aisling, one of the Nine Sisters, a group of priestesses skilled in healing. When Aisling came to a tragic end, he used magic to travel to the future to be reunited with her. But Aisling, now Allison Hunter, a free-lance writer in Denver, doesn’t remember her previous life. Which means Connar has to get her to fall in love with him all over again.
Buy Links:
My bio:
Mary Gillgannon writes romance and fantasy, often with Celtic influences. She’s worked in a public library for almost twenty-five years. With her two children grown, she now indulges her nurturing tendencies on her husband, four very spoiled cats and a moderately spoiled dog. When not working or writing, she enjoys gardening, traveling and reading, of course!
Blog: http://marygillgannon.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mary.gillgannon
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MaryGillgannon
February 16, 2015
He has a HEART OF STEEL by Elizabeth Einspanier #SciFi #Romance #Giveaway
Congratulations to Elizabeth Einspanier on the release today of HEART OF STEEL, a Science Fiction Romance. Elizabeth is giving away a $20 gift certificate to Steampunk Emporium. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
When reclusive cyborg Alistair Mechanus meets his captive, ER doctor Julia Parker, it is love at first sight–for him. While he eagerly drops his plans for World Conquest to woo her, ten years of solitude have left his social skills badly rusted. When his misguided act of kindness spirals out of control, however, Julia is forced to trust the mad genius with her life, and she discovers the vulnerable side under his armored plating. She has the skills he needs to unlock his forgotten past, but learning who he used to be may come at the cost of his remaining sanity.
Enjoy an excerpt:
She advanced cautiously, trying to get a look at the subject of his study in the next room. Before she could, however, the tall man in the hall with her spoke.
“Greetings, Julia,” he said in the baritone she’d heard from the speaker. She turned, and saw to her shock that a significant portion of the left half of his face, now revealed to her, was crafted of overlapping segments of unpolished metal, apparently riveted through the flesh and into the skull and jaw. His left eye was a mechanical lens that turned and focused in perfect coordination with its biological counterpart as he regarded her, its iris dilating as he offered her a welcoming smile. “I am, as you have probably guessed, Dr. Mechanus. I welcome you to my humble lair.” He sketched a bow to her, and she either heard or imagined the sound of countless motors whirring within him.
At first her thoughts were consumed by a single horrified thought—what the hell what the hell what the hell—repeated over and over again until her mind filled with what the hell from top to bottom and side to side. She felt light-headed, and braced herself against the edge of the observation window to avoid falling, but some persistently reasonable corner of her mind gently informed her that now simply was not a good time for her to faint or throw up.
Stay frosty, Julia, the voice advised her, in a familiar-sounding voice that Julia couldn’t immediately identify. Think of this like your first car crash in the ER. Sure, it looks horrible, but you can get through this. Just breathe. Get through this, and find out what’s happened to Jim. You’re okay.
About the Author:
Elizabeth Einspanier is the self-published author of the Weird Western novella Sheep’s Clothing and the upcoming sci-fi romance novel Heart of Steel. Her short stories have been published in Down in the Dirt and Dark Fire Fiction. She is a member of the St. Louis Writer’s Guild and an associate member of the Horror Writers of America. She lives in St. Louis, but frequently spends extended periods in worlds of her own creation.Website: http://elizabetheinspanier.com
Blog: http://calliopeskiss.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/GeekGirlWriter
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+ElizabethEinspanier/
Amazon Author Page: http://amazon.com/author/elizabetheinspanier
Those Dastardly Villains #amwriting
Heartless boss.
Mad scientist.
Wicked witch.
Corrupt politician.
Malicious mother-in-law.
What do they have in common?
They’re Those Dastardly Villains. Every story needs bad guys or the heroine would sit around twiddling her thumbs and checking Facebook.
In April, the Snarkology is hosting a guest blogger series with themed posts celebrating the foes and enemies who made our stories possible.
Check below for a list of open dates. Please leave a comment with your email address, pen name, and a couple preferred dates if you’re interesting in participating.
Apirl 2
Apirl 3
Apirl 7
Apirl 8
Apirl 9
Apirl 10
Apirl 14
Apirl 15
Apirl 16
Apirl 17
Apirl 21
Apirl 22
Apirl 23
Apirl 24
Apirl 28
Apirl 29
Apirl 30
Married to an Author #Humor
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder–OCD
Mr. Snark: “You’re OCD. You have to type two thousand words a day. You’re up typing late at night and here it’s the first thing in the morning and you’re typing again.
Me: “It’s actually a thousand words. And I only wrote 950 words yesterday!”
Short Pause.
Me: “Of course, that’s because I was writing until midnight and I missed my goal for the day. I only came to bed after the clock chimed midnight.”
Coffee Addition
The above conversation happened over the coffee machine which is the Snark household equivalent to the office water cooler. I was working on this blog post, trying to be funny and found myself typing an entire paragraph about how I really needed a pot of coffee.
Maladaptive
A maladaptation is a trait that is (or has become) more harmful than helpful. ~Wikipedia
Like a Dodo bird, I’m perfectly adapted to my environment and my routine. When I’m comfortable and unstressed, I’m productive. When I’m productive, thousand-word daily goals get met, housework gets done, and children receive regular meals and clean laundry. However, take me out off my tiny isle of predictability and… Hoo-boy. Watch out.
Delusional
I’m uncertain but I always envision “normal” couples engaging in conversations about real world people and events. Many of my dialogues with Mr. Snark revolve around occurrences of utmost concern that are happening only in my imagination.
Recently, I lured my husband into a bubble bath so I could ambush him with the thing troubling me. (A naked man covered in bubbles really has nowhere to escape.)
“Honey…”
“Yes?”
“What do you think would happen if you killed the future incarnation of Fate?”
(I won’t mention his expression.) “A whole lot of Groundhog Days.”
“Hmmm…”
Talk to Imaginary People
I like to ambush Mr. Snark when he’s asleep also. The best time is usually as I slide into bed late because I’ve been up trying to satisfy my OCD.
Mr. Snark: Snore.
(I lean in close and hug him so he thinks I want to cuddle. His male brain knows there’s a chance he might get lucky so he’s always agreeable.)
Me: “I’ve been working on my new prologue but Loki doesn’t want to cooperate. He says the point of view should be Odin’s but witnessed through Loki’s eyes.
Mr. Snark, grumbling: “Why can’t you just go back to working on Viking Love Slave?”
February 15, 2015
The Lady of the Garter by Marisa Dillon @GoddessFish #Romance #Giveaway
When Henry VII takes the throne, not all are loyal to the new king. Garter knight, Sir James, is charged with bringing dissenters to justice. Determined to fulfill his vows, he’s unprepared for Lady Elena, a girl from his past he’s never forgotten.
Lady Elena defies her family and disguises herself as a squire to reunite with the man she’s always loved. She might be able to wield a sword, but she still possesses a woman’s heart.
Thrust into a world of danger and family rivalry, James and Elena face the ultimate test.
Can James avenge his father’s death and find passion, or will his Garter oaths hold him to a life of service without love?
Available From:
Excerpt:
Servants began to bustle about the hall. Men offered pitchers of rose-scented water and towels. Overflowing baskets of fresh bread and pitchers of wine were placed on the tables. Elena was ready for some mead after all she’d been through. Once the king’s taster sampled the fair, he nodded to the queen. The feast had officially begun. Nudging her brother, Elena confessed, “I was ordered out of the tent.”
“What did you expect? What kind of man do you take James for?” He laughed, raising his goblet in honor of the king.
“You tease me,” she said. “I don’t like it.”
“What did you find, Edward?”
“A foul-mouthed, dirty warrior,” she complained. “Not the sweet innocent lad I fell in love with.”
William’s eyes were filled with merriment. “Lads grow into men. Men become knights.” He studied her face. “And what of your other goal?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Becoming a knight,” he reminded her.
Elena gasped. The other squires stared as if they’d overheard her brother.
William chuckled, raising his cup again. “Long live the king.” The squires joined his salute.
Elena shot her brother a look of warning. How could he be so careless? Spirits. She rolled her eyes. “I admit it,” she said with defiance, keeping her voice low. “I want to become a knight. I’ve never kept that secret from you, but we both agreed I must serve as a squire first.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a woman who placed a trencher on the table in front of them.
“Peacock, venison, quail, and rabbit,” the wench announced, flashing a toothless grin.
William quickly helped himself to half the meat. Always selfish, he even chose the tenderest pieces of venison.
She glowered at him. “Will nothing change? I must accept the meager portions left after you claim the best?”
He licked his fingers, then leaned in so only she could hear his reply. “To these lads you’re just another squire. But I know what’s underneath those pants. So yes, you are still a female, and I get the best. Be satisfied there’s anything left for you to eat.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
With a degree in journalism, Marisa has spent many years writing for the television industry. As an award-winning producer/director/marketer, she has worked on commercial production, show creation, product branding and social media.
Marisa’s passion for writing began when her first-grade teacher read her poem aloud and posted it on the classroom wall. She soon followed up by writing plays for her neighborhood friends and hosting the productions in her garage.
Marisa has always enjoyed reading romance novels and now realizes a dream come true, writing romantic adventures. She lives in Kettering, Ohio, with her first love and knight in shining armor, James.
You can visit Marisa at: www.marisadillon.com. And you can connect with Marisa on Facebook.com/pages/Marisa-Dillon and Twitter.com/marisadillon.
February 13, 2015
The Write Pet: Ewok by Allie Kincheloe #amwriting
My kids had been begging for a dog for ages. My husband is allergic to most dogs though and we didn’t want him to be absolutely miserable, so kept saying no. After several years of pleas, and more than a bit of begging, he started looking for ‘hypo-allergenic’ dogs. Now, I know, there’s no such thing as a truly hypo-allergenic dog, but he thought it would at least help.
My kids and husband wanted a big dog. They decide on a Labradoodle. But every time 
we found some, they were gone by the time we could even call. They picked out a name for the puppy we had yet to find. Several months went by…and we’d almost given up hope of finding “our dog” that my husband could stand to live with.
Then one day, last January, I happened to be looking through Craigslist and found this ad for what they were calling a “Teddy bear puppy”. I’d never heard of that…so I Googled it. (Go ahead, Google it. You know you want to!)
Now, this was NOT what they had in mind. A little dog? Well…he’s not a Labradoodle, that’s for sure. BUT he needed us. The current owner had given the puppy to his wife for Christmas and she wanted a Westie, not this little mutt.
With hardly no discussion, we went to take a look at him. And the name we had picked out certainly didn’t fit. My thirteen year old cuddled him close, and said, “You know, with a little hoodie, he’d look like an Ewok off of Star Wars.”
Ewok, huh?
Yup. Ewok fit. And we brought him home that day. From the first day he was part of our family. I can’t imagine how anyone had this little guy for a month and could part with him!
He’s so sweet and very family-oriented. He loves our kids. My husband doesn’t seem to have any allergy issues. Now, our cat probably wishes we’d never brought him home… He does chase her a good bit.
He likes to curl up next to me while I’m typing and will scratch at my arm if I ignore him and he thinks I need a break. And he’s usually right.
If I could get him to quit drinking my coffee, he’d be perfect…
Tagline:
Layer by layer, Talia peeled away his resistance.
Sean has spent five years cleaning up his life. He’s shoved his past behind him and built a profitable business in the town’s most popular dance club. Falling in love with a college sophomore wasn’t in his plans. But, from the moment he rescued Talia, she brings out his every protective instinct. He tries to resist getting involved on a personal level. Talia’s persistence, however, is stronger than his will.
Despite just ending an abusive relationship, Talia finds an instant connection with a man unlike any she’s dated before. Older, tattooed, and totally inappropriate for her, Talia couldn’t keep Sean off her mind, especially once he calls her “sweetheart” in that deep drawl of his.
When Talia is in danger, they discover just how strong their relationship is. Can Sean and his sweetheart make things last when horrors from their pasts come back to haunt them and family seems determined to keep them apart?
Add it today on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23276151-sean-s-sweetheart
Buy links:
Excerpt:
Sean let Talia clasp his hand in her small soft one as she led him across the parking lot. He shouldn’t encourage her like this, but he couldn’t bear to dim her eyes with disappointment whenever he pulled his hand away. Her brother and father stood looking over the loaded pickup. They caught the tail end of an argument between Zane and his dad as they walked up.
Her father grunted. “That couch is damn heavy and once we go up and down those stairs twenty times with all those little boxes, we’re gonna be too tired to carry that couch upstairs. I swear the darn thing is made of lead.”
Releasing his hand, Talia wrapped her arms around her dad from behind in greeting. “Would it make you feel better if I said I brought someone to help with the heavy lifting, Daddy?”
The older man glared in response as Sean shook hands with Zane. He reminded the older man of his name and stuck his hand out in greeting. Her dad’s eyebrow rose, but didn’t offer his own hand in return. Well, alrighty then. Would it kill him to be polite?
The older man scowled at him and said simply, “Sam Richmond.” The overprotective father crap was getting old.
Zane broke the tension. “Okay, Dad, we will do it your way. Sean, you think you can handle one end of the couch while Dad and I get the other? It’s really heavy. I didn’t realize how heavy, until Dad and I were loading it by ourselves. I, for one, am glad you are here.”
He nodded and the three of them pulled the couch off the truck. Talia tried to help, but Sean told her to just grab a box, he didn’t need her underfoot when they went up the stairs. Zane snickered at the glare on her face, but didn’t comment on it until Talia stomped up the stairs ahead of them.
“You are a brave man, Sean. Brave, I say. You haven’t seen her temper yet, have you? She acts all sweet and shy, but she’s a little hellion when you piss her off. And I think you may have done just that.”
Sam chuckled at Zane’s words, but didn’t say anything as they carried the weighty couch up, pausing at each landing to angle it around the support posts in the breezeway.
Once they got it to the landing of the third floor, Sean could see Talia standing with her arms crossed outside the locked door of her brother’s apartment. She looked angry. Crap, Zane was right. He was in trouble. Where’d that spirit go when she was dating that asshat?
They eased the couch down next to the door and Zane dug the keys out of his pocket to unlock the door. Shoving past her brother, Talia snatched up her box and stomped inside. Sam laughed out loud. “Yup, she’s mad.”
Sean sighed and shook his head. Well, at least he’d made her dad laugh even if it was because he’d pissed Talia off. The heavy couch put up a hell of a fight going through the door. They finally battled it through and had to take a minute to catch their breath. The crashes and bangs coming from the kitchen made Sam and Zane both snicker.
Zane elbowed Sean, mock-whispering, “Good luck.”
When the other men started back down the stairs to get more boxes, Sean followed the noise to Talia. With her back to him, he watched as she slammed the cabinet door with such force it rattled.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you out there,” he murmured. As he laid his hand on the small of her back, she tensed at his touch.
“You said I was in your way. Do I look like a child? Or maybe you think I am too stupid to get out of the way?” Her eyes flashed in anger as she spun to face him.
“Now, I never said that. I just didn’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”
“I thought you were different, Sean. Caleb always treated me like I was too stupid to breathe on my own, and I won’t go through that again. I can’t.”
“I really didn’t mean it like that. I should have phrased it differently, I can see that now. I’m sorry.” He didn’t get how he’d called her stupid, but he enjoyed seeing this side of her. He’d have to piss her off more often if she’d look at him like that. It was a heck of a turn-on for her to be confident enough to stand up to him. He liked his women to have some spunk. Damn, she’s gorgeous when all worked up. He wondered if her eyes filled with such fire when she made love.
He moved closer and she retreated in response until she bumped into the counter. Tilting forward and placing his hands on the granite next to her hips, he surrounded Talia with his arms. He whispered low in her ear, “Anyone ever tell you how stunning you are when you are mad? Your eyes are sparkling and so damn expressive. Sweetheart, you’re really making me forget that we need to be just friends.”
He nuzzled her throat, inhaling her sweet scent. Her hands reached up to fiddle with the button placket on his shirt. When she leaned toward him, he knew she’d forgiven him. She shuddered and he pulled back to look at her. When she licked her lips, he couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck being just friends. He needed to taste her again. Groaning, he bent his head toward hers. A mere second before his lips touched hers Zane kicked the door open and walked in with another box.
Biggest cock-block ever.
Author Bio:
As a busy mother of five, Allie sneaks time to write between breakfast and tickles. Always a Kentucky girl at heart, she currently makes her home near Nashville.
Author links:
Twitter: @allie_kincheloe
TSU: https://www.tsu.co/Allie_Kincheloe
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8615639.Allie_Kincheloe
February 12, 2015
The Write Pet: My You-need-a-life reminder by Maria Elena Alonso-Sierra #amwriting
The author is sponsoring a giveaway for an Epub or mobi set of The Coin and The Book of Hours. Winner will be randomly chosen from comments. Leave a comment for a chance to win!
A whine, soft but high-pitched enough to show a complaint.
I look over to where my mutt, Amber, a German shepherd and Labrador mix, is lying down, in my direct line of sight. Her soulful eyes are staring at me. Is she admonishing me?
Stupid dog. She is always interrupting my train of thought. Okay, where was I…and I am back in my world, engrossed once more in my writing. I remember the exact dialogue I want to write for this scene, I expand it a bit more. One or two words that had escaped me pop up in my brain, and I trudge on.
Another whine. This time, louder. My dog is next to her water bowl. She looks down at the empty bowl and up at me. Her eyes are almost accusing—you are ignoring me again, they seem to say.
Yes. Yes, I am.
Writing with Amber around is both a challenge and an experience.
You see, my stupid dog is my alarm. My you-need-a-break reminder. You-need-a-life reminder. And she will do anything to remind me she is there, that she needs my attention, requires my affection, and demands my time. She will whine, go to the table and pluck my used tissue to chew on in order to force me to stop and grab the thing before she swallows it. She’ll sit next to me and complain, quite insistently, that she is hungry. Amber even butts her head beneath my elbow and forces her head between my typing fingers and the computer keyboard when I am ignoring her completely. When I am pacing, trying to get a scene clear in my head, she will thread through my legs as if it were a game. She tripped me once doing that, and I landed flat on my butt…ergo the moniker “Stupid dog.” She will bark to get my attention, bang on the outside door to be let in. She is annoying to the point of complete exasperation.
But I love her dearly.
Despite those moments, Amber is my loving companion. She will lie down patiently next to me for hours on end, alert, looking toward the front door to make sure no stupid rabbits, squirrels, or birds interrupt me. She growls when strangers pass by. She will lovingly lick my feet when I start cussing because I can’t get the scene right or words simply don’t come out of my brain. She will lie down with her head on my feet, or under the table near me, so I can pet her absentmindedly from time to time. She will put her head on my lap when I get upset, comforting me. When my husband arrives from work, she waits until he is inside and has greeted me before she leaves my side. It’s almost as if she is thinking, “Okay, my duty is done.”
She is my third child. My loving, human-like child. My annoying child.
Speaking of which, I’ve got to go. She is sitting by the door, her whine insistent. I have already had my breakfast, so has Amber. I have had my potty break. She hasn’t. Amber comes back to me, nudges me, and walks to the back door. She stares.
“Okay, stupid dog. I’m coming.”
Title: The Book of Hours
Date Published: February 12, 2015
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Word Count: 108,000
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For artist Gabriela Martinez, psychopaths do strike twice. In The Coin, two star-crossed lovers were cruelly used by fate—and now, in The Book of Hours, destiny isn’t done.
Back then, Gabriela almost lost her life to a psychopath hoping to claim her artwork, her career, her body, and her love. If not for Richard, the operative sent to protect her, she would have fallen victim to his twisted vision. The dramatic showdown pushed Gabriela and Richard together, even in the face of countless obstacles.
With someone new threatening Gabriela’s life, Richard will risk everything to protect the woman he loves. But with a new villain on the horizon, bent on possessing Gabriela’s latest work no matter what it takes, she is forced to fall back on old friends, including the man who changed her life not so many years ago.
With an even more dramatic threat looming, and far more to lose, if they don’t stay one step ahead of the danger, their lives, their love, and their future may very well go up in flames.
Excerpt:
Richard turned slightly. “Why didn’t you call me, Gabriela?”
“What?”
“If my memory serves me, I once told you to contact me if you ever needed me. Why didn’t you?”
Gabriela’s heart skidded to a stop, only to thunder out of control. Those words. God, those words from his letter four years ago. “Who says I need you?”
Richard leaned forward until their faces were mere inches apart. Gabriela scooted back, only to bump into the railing. Richard followed, effectively cutting off any means of escape by caging her with both arms against the railing.
“Why didn’t you call me? You’re under attack—again. From what I’ve heard, you’re way out of your league—again. You need my help to get out of this mess—again. What I don’t understand is why I had to hear of your predicament from Father Ramirez.”
“Father Ramirez?” Gabriela echoed, surprised. And here she thought Jean-Louis had betrayed her. “He called you?”
“Maurice. He, in turn, contacted me. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you were in danger, again.”
“I’m not in danger,” she scoffed, then revised the pronouncement. She was in danger all right, but not from Wickeham. The man facing her was the real danger.
Author Bio:
Maria Elena Alonso-Sierra is a full-time novelist based in North Carolina. With Cuban roots, she has lived in many countries, including France, the setting for her first novel, The Coin. She speaks English, Spanish, French, Italian, and German, and reads Latin, Middle English, and old French. She holds a Masters in English literature, specializing in medieval romances, and is currently an active member of the Carolina Romance Writers. She loves to hear from her readers, and always hopes to open a dialogue with her fans.
Author Links:
Website : https://www.MariaElenaWrites.com
Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/MariaElenaAlonsoSierraWrites
Twitter : https://twitter.com/mariaelenawrite
Blog : http://www.mariaelenawrites.blogspot.com/
Amazon Author Central : http://www.amazon.com/Maria-Alonso-Sierra/e/B00IPEXYLK
Goodreads : https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7093896.Maria_Elena_Alonso_Sierra
Authorgraph : https://www.authorgraph.com/authors/MariaElenaWrite
Tsu : http://www.tsu.co/MariaElenaWrites
February 11, 2015
The Write Pet: When your pets choose you by Linda Andrews #amwriting
I’ve heard tell of a mythical event where people go and pick their pets from a store, an advertisement in the paper, or craigslist. That hasn’t ever been my experience. My experience is that pets somehow find me and my family.
Our oldest pet, Shadow, found my husband. You see the little feral kitty was stashed between two boxes that were about to be moved with a forklift. Thankfully, he heard a meow, rescued her and her sister and then brought them both home. His mother adopted one, we kept the other.
The dog was next. He was part of a crowd I encountered as I left work. Seems, someone moved 
away and left a pregnant mama behind in their yard. The neighbors took both mother and father in and kept the puppies until they were 6 weeks old, then they gave them away at my work. I got the last one. Bear claims me as his and chases all other animals away from me.
Our second cat was rescued from a kill shelter by a local petstore. My daughter picked her out after completing her Physical Therapy during the summer. Peaches, or the Peachinator, is the alpha animal (barring humans) in the pack. She takes down the dog and licks his ears and head to groom him. Bear pretends to be embarrassed but the two can be found snuggled together on a cold night.
Last, came Cyanide. Initially, there were 4 brothers who had been left behind. I’m pretty sure his mother was eaten by coyotes as they were a bit malnourished. But I nursed the four kittens and flea bathed them from 1 1/2 weeks old until we gave 2 away. One of the two that we kept, Fat Charlie, had a seizure a couple of weeks ago and died. He was only 5 years old and I miss him dearly. Thankfully, his brother is still with us and appears very healthy.
We also were given a fish to keep our gold fish company (my son won him). The goldfish died 4 years ago but the other fish is still swimming along.
We also have a grandpuppy that my daughter rescued from the pound. He too had been abandoned by his owners and nearly died from thirst. Now he panics if he’s left alone for too long (he jumped out their front window when they went to work the week after getting him), so they drop him off to stay with us while they go to work. He’s getting better, but enjoys being part of a herd (even if the cats don’t particularly care much for him).
So what about you? Do you select your pets or do they select you?
Hans Lubeck lost his birthright to a woman’s deceitful games. Ten years later, he’s on the cusp of fulfilling his dream of captaining his own ship. And another woman could jeopardize everything.
Schoolteacher Lenore Kerrigan devotes her time to her pupils and good works. She has no use for a man or the damage he could do to her reputation.
But this holiday season, fate and an island of matchmakers have other plans. Will they accept the gift of a lifetime, or will the past steal away any chance at happiness?
Available from:
Excerpt: When a first kiss, isn’t exactly a first kiss
“Are you awake, Lenore?”
Her stomach dropped into the basement. Of all the hotel lobbies in the world, why did Hans Lubeck have to walk into hers?
And why did she have to kiss him?
She swallowed the disgrace wadded in her throat, then slowly worked her fingers out of his knitted sweater. Sweet Mary, maybe I should join a convent in Ireland. At least then I won’t be able to get into anymore trouble.
“Lenore.”
Biting her lip, she looked away. He pitied her. She heard it in his voice. “I’m sorry. I was dreaming and…”
And she’d lost her mind.
But she hadn’t known it was him. Although she should have known it wasn’t Dixon. He’d never kissed her like that. No one had. “I’m sorry.”
Color spotted his cheeks. “No need to apologize. You weren’t responsible.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you kissed me first?”
“No, I’m saying I interrupted while you were sleeping.” He rocked back on his heels.
Her fingers traced her lips. But he had kissed her back. She could still taste her mother’s cobbler. Why had he kissed her?
Linda Andrews lives with her husband and three children in Phoenix, Arizona. When she announced to her family that her paranormal romance was to be published, her sister pronounce: “What else would she write? She’s never been normal.”
All kidding aside, writing has become a surprising passion. So just how did a scientist start to write paranormal romances? What other option is there when you’re married to romantic man and live in a haunted house?
If you’ve enjoyed her stories or want to share your own paranormal experience feel free to email the author at lindaandrews at lindaandrews dot net She’d love to hear from you.
twitter: https://twitter.com/LindaAndrews
facebook: https://www.facebook.com/linda.andrews2
blog: http://lindaandrews.wordpress.com
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