Sarah Cass's Blog: Sarah's StoryLines, page 43
May 19, 2013
Tuesday Tales – Bite
[image error]The prompt this week was Bite.
This time I’m sticking with my story from last week. This section is actually the beginning of the story, where last weeks was probably around Chapter 2.
The story is still unnamed, but a few ideas are being batted around for a good Independence Day themed title
(Suggestions are welcome, though…I’m stumped)
Remember, this is a meme with many contributing authors, so make sure to click the link at the bottom of the image to take you to see more!
Anyhow, as always this is un-edited mostly, so forgive any errors. :
“No, not here.” Amanda whined. The car sputtered and spurted. It barely made it to the shoulder before dying. She hit the steering wheel hard, like that would do her any good, and dropped her forehead to the wheel.
Tears she’d managed to keep at bay since Pennsylvania welled up again. She had no idea where she was, other than New York. The last few signs had said something about Rochester, but she’d left the city behind.
She lifted her head, wiping the tears from her eyes so she could see. The road sign ahead read ‘Lake Point. 1 mile’. A groan escaped and she dropped her head to the steering wheel. A solid thump resonated through her already pounding head, taking the decibel level of her headache to near migraine levels. “What am I going to do?”
There was nowhere left to go. She’d had no destination in mind, and should’ve been grateful the car had taken her this far from Illinois.
A shuddering breath racked her lungs and a sob tore from her gut. For three days she’d driven all over the place. She didn’t want to follow a straight line, and half the time had felt lost.
Who was she kidding, all she felt was lost. Her location no longer mattered.
A sharp knock on the window startled a shriek out of her.
“Ma’am? Y’all right in there? Do you need a hand?” Another tap on her window drew her toward the window and the—the fricking cowboy standing outside.
A cowboy? Her hands shook too hard to move, and she imagined she looked frightful. The way his eyes widened didn’t lessen that belief. She pressed down her lock and nodded. “I’m fine. Go away. I’ll call someone.”
“Sorry I startled you, miss.” A smile broke on the disturbingly handsome face. “Name’s Clay. It’s right smart of you not to open up. You got someone to call?”
No she didn’t. Worse, the pay-as-you-go phone she’d bought was dead after her last call to Grace. At this point in time she had no one to call. No one but the man outside her window, but she wasn’t about to get out and hitch a ride with a perfect stranger.
“How about I call Calvin? He’s a sheriff. And I’ll call for a tow and have the car taken to my garage.” Clay apparently took her silence for an acknowledgement that she didn’t know what to do. He turned on his phone and started dialing.
All she could do was nod rapidly, even after he’d turned away. She had no idea what else would work. Her voice didn’t want to work, the world had crashed in when the car died. The reality of what she’d done, and how alone she was now dug at the dark hole in her soul until her lip trembled again.
Thankfully the cowboy backed off and went back to his truck. It left her free to try to gather herself together. She turned the rear view mirror toward herself and let out a bitter laugh. Red splotched her face, the damn dark circles under her eyes a deep purple now that the makeup had been cried and wiped away.
She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks to remove the last salty vestiges of the ‘hysterical woman’ she’d so often been accused of being. At this point maybe she should have felt relief, but she felt more scared than ever.
Flashing lights came into view at the edge of her mirror and she shifted it back to get a better view. A cop car had pulled up behind Clay and the sheriff now stood shaking the cowboy’s hand. So he wasn’t a homicidal maniac, or if he was he was a damn good one.
A strangled laugh choked out and she cleared her throat. After a long exhale and a shake to remove the last of her nerves, she unlocked the door again. By the time the cop got to her car she felt somewhat composed, even if she looked like hell.
“Everything all right, miss?” The short man stood at the ready, one hand on his holster just in case she was the homicidal maniac. Not that she blamed him after the show she’d just put on. No wonder Tony always said she was too emotional.
The mere thought brought up a whimper so fast she couldn’t stop it. Luckily it wasn’t a full on sob, and she was able to nod. “My car broke down. I’ve got no one to call. I’m just…”
“It’s okay. Clay’s already called a tow for you. If anyone can fix this, he can.” The man reeked of doubt when he took in the car. It was a heap of junk, and she knew it. “How about I give you a ride to the garage? You can wait for it there.”
There wasn’t anything else to do. Short of finding another heap of junk that would wipe her out of the last bit of money she had. If there was a higher power, it was telling her to stop where she was. With a long sigh she shrugged. “I suppose. So he’s okay?”
Sheriff Calvin glanced back to the truck and snorted. “Clay? He’s harmless. Don’t bit or nothing. Damn good with cars, too. Don’t let the cowboy thing freak you out. We try not to.”
She allowed an uneasy laugh and grabbed her purse. Once she stepped out, she took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“No problem. I’m Sheriff Calvin, most people just call me Calvin. And this here is Clay Ryley.” Calvin gestured to the cowboy.
Clay tipped his hat. “Sorry again about startling you, Miss. I saw you stall out and thought I’d try to help.”
“I appreciate it. Sorry for, well, this.” She gestured to her face. “It’s been a long drive.”
“No problem. You go on with Calvin, I’ll wait for the truck.”
She nodded and let the sheriff lead her toward his car. Before she got in, she chanced another glance at the cowboy. Figures on the one day in her life she met a hot cowboy she was a total wreck. Death warmed over probably looked better.
With a sigh, she slid into the car and pulled her purse tight against her chest.
*~*
Hope you enjoyed it! Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!
*~*
May 16, 2013
The English Lily by Kae Elle Wheeler
[image error]| Amazon | The Wild Rose Press |
Blurb
Lady Kendra Frazier is devastated. The love of her life just married another, and now all she desires is to be as far away as possible. Viscount Lawrie, Joseph Pinetti Gray, is facing financial ruin and needs a wealthy heiress. Luckily for him, Kendra’s impetuous nature has handed him the fortuity he requires to save his family’s downfall. But Joseph’s carefully cultivated plans come to a grinding halt when he finds himself falling in love for what should have only been a marriage of convenience. And how can an old cursed doll help?
Excerpt
He rushed over. “Thank God,” he whispered. He crouched down next to her. “Thank God,” he said again, touching his forehead to hers.
“Joseph? Lord Lawrie?” Her voice cracked. Her white glove was no longer white. He wished he could have protected her from that.
Leaning back, he peeled the stained fabric away.
Her hand clenched. “My hands—”
He brushed his lips over the tiny scars. “Your hand is perfect,” he said. “We’ll have to marry, you know.”
“Married. I’ve dreamed of marrying,” she whispered, smiling. Her eyes were dry, but in them he read the shock and fear.
Something tight squeezed Joseph’s chest, he found he could hardly breathe. Death hovered over them. While he might fail in creating bliss for Kendra’s last moments on this earth, he could offer her the whimsical fairytale.
Joseph dropped her hand and cupped her head with both hands. “Lady Kendra Frazier, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, mademoiselle, s’il vous plait?”
With a stately incline of her head, she replied with a trembling smile. “I shall be honored, Viscount Lawrie, Chevalier Joseph Pinetti Gray. Lord Hardwick’s Marriage Act was enforced in Scotland, in fifty-four, so we’ve no need to post the banns.” A small hysterical laugh erupted. “Shall we escape to Gretna Green, my lord?”
Her spirit touched him as nothing else could. Even in the throes of shock and danger, she managed to recall his full proper name and title. He pulled her to him as heavy steps echoed on the wooden planks just beyond the door. But for a moment he could pretend they would live a long and fruitful life together. “Oui, Gretna Green suits my purposes, perfectly, love,” he whispered against her lips, before crushing them beneath his own.
The door crashed back.
Author Bio
Kae Elle Wheeler has a BA degree from the University of Central Oklahoma in Management Information Systems that includes over forty credit hours of vocal music. As a computer programmer the past fifteen years, she utilizes karaoke for her vocal music talents. Other passions include fantasy football, NBA & musical theatre season tickets, and jazzercise. Because to quote Nora Roberts to a one time question, if she worked out? Her reply, “You have to get off your ass.”
Kae Elle began has been a member of the Oklahoma Chapter of Romance Writer’s of America and the RWA since March of 2007. She grew up in the Dallas area and definitely considers herself a city girl. She does not limit her travels to Writer Conferences in San Francisco, Washington DC, Seattle, Dallas, New Jersey, New York City and Atlanta because Jazzercise has fun conferences too (Denver, Palm Springs and Orlando). You can’t keep her at home!
She is a member of several RWA Chapters, including DARA, The Beau Monde and Passionate Ink. She has held several positions in the OKRWA Chapter, currently serving as Programs Director. As an avid reader of romance and patron of theatre, her main sources of inspiration come from mostly an over-active imagination. She currently resides in Edmond, Oklahoma with her musically talented husband, Al, and their bossy cat, Carly.
May 15, 2013
Send Him An Angel by Tabitha Shay
Blurb
In the Badlands of the Dakota Territory, a war is raging between good and evil, between angels and Satan’s three sons…
Earth Angel—Elizabeth Bonner’s plans for her wedding dissolve when she
discovers her fiancé in bed with her mother. To escape the pain, she flees to the rowdy mining town of Deadwood Gulch to claim a recently inherited gold mine. Only one person stands between her and hell—Gabriel King.
Dark Angel—Saloon and brothel owner, Gabriel, is a man feared by most, but he meets his match with Elizabeth. When her father dies in his arms with the request for him to look after his only child, Gabriel is determined to protect Elizabeth at all costs. 1876, Dakota Territory is no place for a Southern lady whose innocence is tempting as sin. Toss in a couple of trouble-making cherubs, and the Old West will never be the same.
Elizabeth and Gabriel—more than one war is brewing in the Black Hills…
Excerpt
But the moment Elizabeth opened the door and stepped inside―at exactly eleven―in that instant, Gabe realized he was wrong in his opinion of the woman. He literally jerked at the sight of her. His breath caught in his throat. His heart thundered in his ears. The compulsion to jump up and capture her, take her far away from the leeches in the office was almost overpowering in its intensity.
He was half-way out of the chair before he caught himself and settled back on the rich leather cushion. She wasn’t his―yet. But he’d well rectify that—soon. Gabe tightened his lips. The flare of impotent anger he already felt shot up three notches as Lawyer Ninon plastered a welcoming, duplicitous smile on his face for the new arrival. What hypocrisy! The sycophantic bastard. So smug. So–so apple polishing innocence! Damn, he hated unscrupulous worms like this Ninon lawyer.
From the first moment Gabe met the three, he hadn’t much cared for any one of them, now he understood why. He suddenly realized that instead of rats, he was in a room with oily sharks. Distaste curdled his insides, but he could hardly grab Elizabeth and steal her away, not out from under the nose of her fiancé and mother, or her lawyer.
A little voice niggled at his mind asking, Why not?
He cut his eyes toward the woman who’d just walked in. If ever there was a heavenly being, she was it. Yep, the fiancé was not only a cheating prick, but he was a stupid, cheating prick. How could good old Nicholas tussle between the sheets with Charity when he had this woman? What a dumbass swine.
Heavenly being? God above, he did have the weirdest thoughts sometimes, but for sure, Elizabeth didn’t look a thing like her mother, and thank God, she didn’t look like homely old Pete, rest his soul.
Her hair lay gathered around her face in loose ringlets, shiny as the gold nuggets Pete had mined. Sprigs of honey-gold curls swirled softly around her ears and temples. Thick, sooty lashes surrounded grape-green eyes that looked right through a man’s soul―and did.
Her furious gaze met his, held, clashed, and strayed to her mother and fiancé. She drew a deep breath as if to soothe a savage beast, but her cheeks looked flushed and he thought it had more to do with temper than the humid heat of a Southern spring.
Gabe raked his gaze over her, but hurried back to her tempting lips. Elizabeth’s mouth needed a man’s kisses. A plush bottom lip hinted at sultry softness. Her bow-shaped upper lip pulled a man’s gaze to it immediately and teased his imagination. Her mouth looked as decadent as the painting of the naked woman hanging above his bar in the Placer.
Tabitha Shay is the author of paranormal romances, Witch’s Brew, Witch’s Heart, Witch‘s Moon, Witch’s Magic, and Witch’s Fire.
A member of the Oklahoma Writer’s Federation, Inc., she has served as both a category chair and judge. Her books have been nominated for several awards, including the prestigious P.E.A.R.L. Award for Witch’s Magic and Witch’s Moon, which was also nominated for Best All Around Paranormal in 2008. Witch’s Fire won Runner Up for Best Paranormal Book of 2010 at LRC.
Ms. Shay is also the author of the contemporary western romances, Montana Men Series, In the Arms of Danger, No Holds Barred, Too Hot to Handle/Too Close to the Fire, and Wild, under the pseudonym, Jaydyn Chelcee.
Website: http://tabithashay.blogspot.com
May 14, 2013
Hump Day Hook 27 – Santa, Maybe
Today I’m posting a little bit from my holiday story. Santa, Maybe was written for a submission call, but I ended up falling in love with Alan and Ivy. I even fell in love with the town they were to the point that I’ve decided to turn it into a series, with about 5 more planned at this point, all set around a holiday in this little town.
After many years without seeing each other, Alan and Ivy are going on a date:
One eyebrow quirked and she teased him with another smile. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“Those are new.” He purposely looked back at her chest. “Motherhood did you good in many ways, Ivy.”
“Pig.”
“Oink.”
*~*
Hump Day Hook asks authors to post one paragraph of one of their stories, whether a WIP, one contracted, or already published. Please visit and comment on the participants – you might just stumble on the next great read for your library! To see more participants, click on the HDH banner below:
May 13, 2013
Coinage of Commitment by R.Costelloe
Blurb
Wayne and Nancy grow up on opposite sides of the country, each certain they must have love better than what others will settle for. Something stronger, something richer, something worth searching for. During the turbulent nineteen-sixties, they meet while he is attending blue-collar Drexel, and she is at neighboring, Ivy League Penn. Although irresistibly drawn to each other, they must overcome obstacles posed by the class and social differences separating them, as well as opposition from both families, and later, a twist of fate that will be the cruelest test of all. Can they reach the emotional heights they seek? Can they overcome time’s downward pulling inertia? Coinage of Commitment is dedicated to all who ever paused and wondered about the altitude love might soar to.
Excerpt
Setup: Late Friday night, 1968, at Philadelphia’s 30th St. Subway Station. Wayne is looking from the trolley station, where he stands, to the adjacent subway train (El) platform.
As he watched absently, the girl from Sullivan’s came down the El station steps opposite him. She paused at the foot of the stairs, getting her bearings. Although adequate lighting bathed the platform, most riders took stock of others in the vicinity for safety’s sake. It was a natural precaution, instinctive for most, and especially important this late at night. She saw him, signaled recognition by a parting of her lips that was not quite a smile, then she lowered her gaze, turned, and strolled slowly out of sight to the other side of the stairway.
Seeing her again pricked him with an off-kilter joy, uplifting and refreshing, partly because she recognized and acknowledged him, but also because she seemed so buoyantly out of place down here, her bright beauty undefeated by the dank-smelling gloom of the subway. He smiled, turned away, and sauntered to the south side of the trolley platform. The minutes dragged, but no trolley car arrived. He began mentally composing a theme paper for his International Politics course, the only non-technical one he had that semester. Ideas came to him, prancing, and he thought of getting a notebook from his bag.
“Police! Help! Help me!” A woman’s screaming and it came from the El platform.
Thinking frantically of the girl, he ran to the north edge of the platform and jumped the foot or so that got him down onto the trolley tracks. A steel grate fence separated the two transit systems, but it had seen better days. A section was ajar, just ten feet to his left, and he swung it open enough to squeeze through.
Now things got difficult. The El platform was too high and far to jump to. The train tracks gleamed below him, the electrified rail closest, then the two steel tracks. He saw only one way to get there and didn’t slow down to analyze the risk. He threw his bag onto the opposite platform, then leaped forward, over the electrified rail, and down into the square trench that ran a foot and a half below and between the steel tracks. The platform loomed just above him, and the smell of ozone was stronger this close to the electrified rail—the one he must not fall back against. With his momentum still carrying forward from the jump, he kept moving, aware his footing and balance must be perfect. He reached up and grabbed the El platform edge, stepped up on the rail before him, then used his grip on the edge to lever himself up and onto the platform, landing on his right shoulder and side. Feeling no pain, he got to his feet and sprinted west down the platform toward the woman’s screams.
As he ran, he recalled what he had seen: the girl from Sullivan’s, a nondescript man, and three black youths: teens with their heads wrapped in dark bandannas, signifying…he knew not what. They were what fueled his urgency. Where was she? The commotion was still ahead of him.
He ran at top speed past the central vending area and spotted figures near the far steps. He could see her blond mane, somewhat disheveled now, and she stood with her arm across a shorter girl’s shoulder. The nondescript man ran up and joined them.
“He took my purse,” the other girl wailed. “I can’t believe I was so careless to let him get my purse that easily.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the blond girl said, her arm still across the smaller girl’s shoulder in comfort.
“All my ID. A credit card. And I just got my paycheck cashed today. How stupid can you get?”
Another woman came down the steps and joined the group. As Wayne approached and slowed, a balding, thirtyish-looking man passed him from behind, joined the scene, said he had heard the commotion from above, and that a companion had gone to the toll booths to get help. Then two of the black youths he had seen earlier ran up from the west.
“He high-tailed it onto the tracks,” said the shorter of the youths. “He’s got choice of Thirty-third Street trolley or Thirty-fourth Street El station, so it looks like we kiss that one good-bye. You know what I’m saying? The Fuzz’l never collar that dude now.”
As though on cue, a police officer, complete with German Shepherd, came down the steps and assumed authority. The third black youth also joined the crowd. Wayne held back, not seeing what he could contribute by his late arrival. The blond girl had seen his running approach. Or had she? Her gaze had flicked briefly in his direction, then back to her charge. The tension eased with collective relief, and the officer started questioning the stricken girl, unpacking a notebook as he spoke.
Wayne thought of how the blond girl continued to be too distracted to notice him, and he felt bemused by the irony of his situation. He had arrived about 7.2 seconds too late to be of any use, even to the wrong damsel in distress.
His breathing slowed. Still not seeing anything he could contribute, he turned and walked slowly in the direction he had come. He needed to retrieve his bag from where he had tossed it onto the platform. When he got there, he picked up the bag and looked out over the gleaming tracks toward the trolley station. No way, he thought, realizing with a shiver the danger he had risked. The price of another transit token wasn’t nearly worth the peril. And then, as though to underscore the irony, his trolley arrived and then quickly departed. Oh well, might as well climb the stairs to the mid-level pay booths so he could get back down to the trolley station. He took his sweet time since he probably had at least a twenty-minute wait.
He approached the corner of the stairway, trying to remember whether the trolleys discontinued service during the wee hours. Suddenly the blond girl stood in front of him, her eyes wide, her expression anxious.
“It just dawned on me,” she said. “How did you get over here?”
Author Bio
Rob Costelloe’s contemporary love stories explore the height that love can reach. These are characters certain they must have love better than what others will settle for. Something richer, something higher, something worth holding out for. And something that will last through time. These aspirations invariably give plot directions a unique twist. Rob designs his own covers, and they strive to give an illustration of the plot tension within. Rob and his wife live near Houston, Texas.
Website: rcostelloe.com
Tuesday Tales – Picture Prompt
The prompt this week is the picture to the left.
For the second week in a row I’m changing stories. This one is one of my new contemporary romance series’. The first one, Santa, Maybe, may or may not have a contract…and I wrote it as a stand-alone short story for a submission call, but I loved the town so much, I now have about 6 other stories plotted, all around holidays.
This particular short is as yet unnamed, but is to be set around Independence Day. This blurb won’t be the start of the story, but a chapter or two in…
Remember, this is a meme with many contributing authors, so make sure to click the link at the bottom of the image to take you to see more!
Anyhow, as always this is un-edited mostly, so forgive any errors. :
Amanda could hardly stand it. From where she sat at a table outside a small corner restaurant, the view was—eerie. A row of businesses lined up like old fashioned America, flags flying proudly.
A few people littered the streets, each greeting one-another by name.
By name? Who’d heard of that? Who lived like that? What town was really that small.
It was too good to be true. This whole damn thing was, not to mention that sexy mechanic that kept glancing her way. Clay’s clichéd good-ol’-boy attitude coupled with that southern accent was just too much.
When she thought he wouldn’t catch her, she’d take the opportunity to admire his long legs wrapped up tight in his Wranglers. The strong arms that his t-shirt revealed made her want to curl up in them and hear him tell her she was safe now. She’d almost believe it if he said in his cheesy, stupid accent.
He was probably just like Tony, anyway. If he wasn’t, then he was too good for her.
The wink Clay threw her way made her realize she’d been staring again. Heat flooded her cheeks and she turned deliberately away to take in the town again.
Lake Point.
Pffft. She hadn’t wanted to stop here, certainly had no intentions to stay long. According to Clay’s assessment of the crap car she’d managed to buy, she was quite stuck. It took her days of nursing the clunker along halfway across country.
It had to give up outside of what she could only deduce was Pleasantville.
Was that it? Had she ended up in an old TV show?
If only. Her luck couldn’t be that good. It never had been before.
*~*
Hope you enjoyed it! Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!
*~*
May 9, 2013
Interview with Lacie Nation

*~*
1. Can you tell us a little about yourself?
I was born and raised in GA and while I’ve lived in other states such as Kansas City, Jacksonville FL, and a couple other places, I have always been and always will be a country girl. I like to wear pretty clothes, but I don’t mind getting dirty either.
2. Are you a pantser or a plotter?
Pantser for sure. I have never plotted a book out. I may know a general direction I want the story to go, but for the most part I just let the characters do their thing, or as we say in the south, their thang!
3. Can you tell us about the challenges you faced getting your first book published?
Ahh the first book blues…lol. I wrote a story called So Beautifully Broken. I went through so many ups and downs while trying to get it published. I finally found Secret Cravings and throughout the entire process of editing, editing, and oh yes, more editing, the staff was there for me through the whole thing. I am so thankful for they gave me a shot.
4. What was your favorite chapter to write and why?
Honestly, my favorite part of Gravity Beach to write was the prologue. I was able to really get into the emotions of the heroine. I guess a little of that was because I was a hot mess after writing the first book in this series, Courageous Dare.
5. Were all of your characters easy to write, or did some of them give you trouble? Any particular character you didn’t like at all?
Surprisingly, all the characters in this book were easy to write. I can’t really say I didn’t like any one particular character. Even the villain showed emotional depth…eventually.
6. Do you have any advice for aspiring writers?
Keep trying, keep writing, and never EVER let anyone tell you, you can’t do what you love.
7. In researching your book what did you learn that surprised you? Or, alternatively, what thing did you research that you never thought you would (and considered deleting from your browsing history)?
There wasn’t really any research to be done for this book. In Courageous Dare though I had to research certain aspects of what happens when a solider…on second thought, I won’t give anything away about the first book. *insert evil laugh*
8. Narrow down your novel. Why must we read it? (besides the obvious, it’s awesome answer…because of course it is!)
That’s a really touch one! I’m a firm believer that we can’t please everyone, so that being said I will let readers make that decision for themselves. I will say that if you like a story about second chances at love and healing from a tragedy, then this might just be the book for you.
9. Do you have any unique talents or hobbies?
I like to make book covers. Other than that, I’m pretty much your down home southern lady.
10. Which character speaks the loudest to you?
Jolie, the heroine. She is a tough chick who has been through hell and still came out on top.
11. Do you have another book coming out soon?
Not yet, but the plot bunnies are a screaming!
12. (For series authors) How many books can we expect to see in your series? Is the number tentative or set?
There are two, but there just might be a third from the ever hilarious Jamie. She’s a really fun character, but there may be darker days to come for her. The number is tentative. There are three friends so it would make sense for all three of them to get their own story.
*~*~*~*
Jolie Baker had it all, amazing friends, a college degree, and a man she planned to spend the rest of her life with. When her love is killed in action, Jolie has to learn to live again. Three years after Ethan’s death, she moves to Gravity Beach to start a new life. At her new teaching job, one of her students is surprised when her father returns home from war. Jolie never imagined how important the returning solider and his daughter would become.
David Stokes wants nothing more than to raise his daughter, Madison, and give her the best life he can. Because Madison’s mother abandoned them, David is all she has. When he meets his little girl’s teacher on the beach, he is surprised by how much he wants to know her. David sees the pain in Jolie’s eyes, but will his love be enough to ease her tattered soul?
Excerpt:
Jolie wanted to say something profound to him. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him. How important he was to her very being. But, when she pressed her hand against his chest every single word left her brain. There was not a single trace of his normal warmth. His chest, normally firm, because he was a muscular man, now was hard to the touch and she could feel the coldness radiating through the thick layers of his uniform. Jolie jerked her hand away and stumbled back. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her heart beat so fast it was painful. She needed air, so she rushed back through the mourning people and crashed through the front doors of the funeral home. The fingers she’s pressed to his chest still felt cold and the chill seemed to be spreading throughout her entire body. Jolie wanted her love back. She wanted her life back. She wanted Ethan.
May 8, 2013
Interview with Jamie Richmond of Devious
I’m happy to say that Mark Love was able to bring along his character, Jamie Richmond of Devious by today. I like her spunk…any time a heroine has a smartass side to her, she makes me happy.
*~*
1. Tell us a little about yourself. How did you come to your author’s attention? Occupation?
Jamie: Well, I’m 31, single, the only child in an Irish American family. My father was a sculptor who was very successful. Unfortunately, he died when I was about seven years old. My mother decided that staying with one man made no sense, so she has been married many times since then, which makes me a little skittish about relationships. I’ve always been interested in writing, studied journalism in college and worked for newspapers for about eight years. I learned a lot about people and writing, which I now utilized for the kind of writing I was born to do. Mysteries! I recently sold my first novel and I’m working on my next one.
The author read some of my columns and features when I was still working as a reporter. We met for coffee a couple of times. I think he liked my style. At times I can be a bit of a smart ass. I’m pretty observant, quick with a laugh. But I’m a redhead, so you know I’ve got a quick temper too!
2. What or who is the greatest love of your life? Why? What drew you to them?
Jamie: Wow, that’s a tough one. There are different types of love. I mean, I really love Bert, my step-father. He was my mother’s third husband, from the time I was thirteen until I went to college. He’s always treated me as an adult, has always been there for me. We’re still close. Then there’s Linda, my best friend since we were six years old. I’d do anything for her. Now if you’re talking about romantic love, there’s a guy who recently entered my life. Malone. He’s charming and self confident and smart. One look from him and my knees come unhinged. He’s got these incredible blue eyes that pierce my heart. We’re still getting to know each other. I think what appealed to me is that we met through my work several times before we started to date. By that time, we had developed this low key friendship. I was still nervous on our first date, but that’s fairly normal. (Laughs) He still makes me nervous.
3. What’s your greatest fear?
Jamie: That I’ll do something to ruin the great thing I have with Malone. When it comes to relationships, I’m always looking over my shoulder at my mother’s crazy antics. I’m afraid that it’s hereditary and I’ll end up driving Malone away. But the longer we’re together, the more confident I’m becoming. I think.
4. What’s your motto in life?
Jamie: What the hell. It’s an old expression from a dear friend. When I wanted to try something different, like writing mysteries, I figured, ‘what the hell’. You can either keep doing the same thing, or take some chances with life and see where it goes. I owe a good part of that philosophy to Bert, who has always encouraged me.
5. How do the other characters in your book view you?
Jamie: (laughs) Stubborn, determined, self-conscious, shy, (yeah, I know) a smart ass, focused and creative. I’m stubborn about getting to the truth. I’m self-conscious about my body. I am definitely shy and a little awkward with guys. And everyone says I can be a real smart ass.
6. What do you prefer? To spread & hear gossip, or be the creator of gossip fodder?
Jamie: Oh baby, I want to create the gossip fodder. And it’s even sweeter if it’s about me. (Laughs) I like to think I can keep a secret, but only if I have to.
7. What is it about you that is going to draw us readers in?
Jamie: Readers will be able to identify with me. I’m a real woman, not some Hollywood creation that required assembly. While I doubt my body would stop traffic unless I am sprawled across the highway, I’m pretty okay with the way I look. Like many women, I struggle sometimes with my self-confidence. I might read too much into what someone says or does, wondering if there’s more to it than what’s on the surface. But my heart is strong and true. I want the same things we all do: to have a few good friends we can count on, a job that I’m successful at, and someone to curl up with at the end of the day and love.
8. What was your happiest moment?
Jamie: To share my successes with those closest to me. Having Bert, Linda and Malone in my life bring me happiness. Lately, having Malone in my life has certainly made me happy.
9. What trait in others do you find most deplorable?
Jamie: Dishonesty. I can’t stand liars. Sadly, I’ve dated a few and when their lies tripped them up, they were out the door.
10. The random question: If you were a color, what color would you be and why?
Jamie: (laughs) Oh, I’ve got to say red. Since I’m already a redhead, it only makes sense. Red can be bright and vibrant and glowing. My face turns red when I’m excited or embarrassed. It’s the color of roses, of blazing sunsets, of passion, of love. Yes, I am definitely a red.
*~*~*~*
[image error]| Amazon | SCP | B&N | ARe |
Blurb
Jamie Richmond, reporter turned author, is doing research for her next book. Attempting to capture the realism of a police officer’s duties while on patrol, she manages to tag along for a shift with a state police trooper. A few traffic stops and a high speed chase later, Jamie’s ride takes an unexpected turn when she witnesses the trooper being shot. Although it is not a fatal injury, Jamie becomes obsessed with unraveling the facts behind this violent act. While she is trying to sort out this puzzle, she becomes romantically involved with Malone, another trooper with a few mysteries of his own. Now Jamie’s attention is divided between a blooming romance and solving the crime which is haunting her. Jamie begins to question the events that took place and exactly who could be behind the shooting. It was a devious mind. But who?
Excerpt
The first time on the sofa was wild. There was no chance for foreplay. We both wanted it too much for that. Clothes were flung so far that I didn’t find my red bra until two days later. It must have bounced off the wall and slid behind the planter. After the initial rush, Malone introduced me to the romantic aspects of each room in my apartment. At one point after a warm bath together, I was on my stomach in bed and he proceeded to drive me crazy by slowly making patterns down my spine with one solitary fingertip.
Each time after the first started out slow and tender. A kiss here, fingers stroking there. Malone was toying with me, bringing me to the edge of excitement now, his lips following his finger. My whole body felt alive, energized with the reactions to his touch.
He kissed his way up my body, taking his time. A nuzzle here, another tantalizing kiss there. My skin was singing. My face was flushed, probably as red as my hair. At about the time I could actually feel my body starting to recover, he zeroed in on my breasts.
Now I can’t say this is true for all women. I can only speak for me. Maybe it’s because of the infrequency of romantic interludes. Or maybe it’s my age. Or maybe the moon was rising.
My breasts are small. I hinted at that before. There are fourteen-year old girls out there with bigger breasts than mine. To clarify the situation, all my bras are padded and yes, the cup size is A. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but it’s what I’ve got and I’d never consider surgery to pump them up. All I know is that when Malone starting stroking and kissing my breasts, it’s like there was a direct connection down below. I was immediately wet with anticipation yet again.
“What am I going to do with you,” I whispered my voice little more than a feathery gasp.
“Whatever you would like, I’m open to suggestions.”
*~*
[image error]Bio:
Yes, my name really is Mark Love. I am a Michigan native, who up until recently lived in the Metro Detroit area, where crime and corruption always seem to be at the top of everyone’s news. So there’s always the chance to find something that can trigger a story idea and enough interesting characters to jump start your imagination.
While I have worked in many industries and career paths over the years, one of my passions has always been writing. I was even able to parlay that passion for a while, working as a freelance reporter for a couple of newspapers in the Detroit area. Writing features and hard news helped me hone my talents. But while newspaper work was interesting and paid a few bills, it was a far cry from the fiction writing that I enjoy the most.
I’ve always been drawn to mysteries and thrillers, the kind of stories that have a fast pace, that keep you moving and keep you guessing as to what’s going to happen next. Mix those in with some elements of crime, perhaps a glimpse of the seedier side and you’ve got me. So it’s always been one of my goals to write stories like that.
Blog: http://marklove024.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkLoveAuthor
May 7, 2013
Hump Day Hook 26 – Masked Hearts
I’m going back to Masked Hearts today.
Minnie and Roy are talking about her tribe, and he has some very particular questions for her:
“That fur trapper.” He had to force the words out. The cracking in his voice so unusual it drew Minnie’s intense gaze back to him. “Did he and the woman have a child? A son?”
Her brows drew together, a frown creasing her lips down. “Yes.”
“Was he taken away?”
*~*
Hump Day Hook asks authors to post one paragraph of one of their stories, whether a WIP, one contracted, or already published. Please visit and comment on the participants – you might just stumble on the next great read for your library! To see more participants, click on the HDH banner below:
May 6, 2013
Interview with Ashleigh Thomas of Rockin’ the Boss
I’m happy to say that Jamie Salisbury was able to bring along her character, Ashleigh Thomas of Rockin’ the Boss, here today. She’s a spitfire and I already adore her based on this interview…
*~*
1. Tell us a little about yourself. How did you come to your author’s attention? Occupation?
That’s two questions! I came to her (my author) attention because I am a strong willed, don’t take no shit type woman. I may be (in the book) recovering from some personal whammies, but you can’t keep me down for long! I’m not a bitch, but can be when needed. For the most part I’m easy going. Occupation? Entrepreneur, business owner.
2. What or who is the greatest love of your life? Why? What drew you to them?
That would be Max of course! He is the only man who knows what I’m feeling without my having to tell him – constantly. He doesn’t have to have his ego stroked all the time either. He knows I’m in charge when it comes to business, adding his suggestions, observations when appropriate. On the personal side it’s 50-50. He instinctively knows when to take charge. What drew me to him? Probably his masculinity. He’s comfortable in it, not afraid to show his softer side and is without a doubt the only man I’ve met who can please me! *wink* The man is incredible!
3. What’s your greatest fear?
Fear is a weakness
4. What’s your motto in life?
I’ve never had one.
5. How do the other characters in your book view you?
Except for one – they all adore me! I’m the boss you always wish you’d had!
6. What do you prefer? To spread & hear gossip, or be the creator of gossip fodder?
Neither! I detest gossip! Period!
7. What is it about you that is going to draw us readers in?
All of the above, plus they will enjoy the fact that I can get along as equals with anyone, whether it be an employee or a peer.
8. What was your happiest moment?
It hasn’t happened yet! *wink* Stay tuned for book 2!!
9. What trait in others do you find most deplorable?
Users! People who hang on to others and use them, then when they suck that person dry they move on to the next “victim”…
10. The random question: If you were a color, what color would you be and why?
Why purple of course! It’s the color of royalty! *wink*
*~*
Blurb
Max Frazier is an international rock music icon. Women throw themselves at his feet, but he has eyes for only one woman…his boss, Ashleigh Thomas.
Ashleigh Thomas is still reeling over the sudden death of her husband, Richard. And all the debt and the trail of destruction he left behind. With Max continuing his contract with ANT Communications, Ashleigh approaches the stunningly handsome entertainer with a business proposition. A deal that will not only bring her agency out of the throws of bankruptcy but will make them both obscene amounts of money. Ashleigh finds herself attracted to this man with his smoldering sensual good looks, a man a much younger than she.
Max is an entertainer’s entertainer. Everything new he tries turns to gold. He is also a man with a past. A past that few are aware of. As he finds himself falling for Ashleigh he realizes his past will catch up with him…sooner or later. His past is what the feds find useful in their pursuit of someone close to Ashleigh.
Excerpt
Then, his voice and demeanor took a more serious tone. “Then there was your marriage to Richard and his sudden death.”
I carefully placed my fork back on the plate and stared at him, shocked that he would bring up Richard. We had been together for close to fifteen years. It had been obvious to everyone except me that he had married me exclusively for the money and connections that my family brought. What he had not expected was Papa insisting on a pre-nuptial agreement.
Richard made the best of the knowledge that he would get nothing if he ever chose to leave. As soon as we married, sex was non-existent between us. He had a steady stream of mistresses and thought little of parading them in front of me. The agency had been his idea, as he had loved the lifestyle and fame it brought. His life had ended as he had lived—hard, fast, and mysterious.
I took a bite of salad and did not react immediately. “I was surprised when you moved to Atlanta.” As I changed the subject, my tone made it clear to Max that Richard was an issue I did not wish to discuss.
“I wanted to be closer to the new team you put together. Manhattan can be so over-rated and expensive. California I love, but it’s even further away. But I do like the climate and the opportunities. Atlanta intrigued me. What made you move here?” The sides of his mouth curled up as though he already knew the answer.
What’s he up to? “Atlanta is special. My mother’s from the area, and I spent a lot of time here growing up.”
“Ah-ha!” he boomed, as he grinned at me. “Now I know why your parent’s named you Ashleigh. It’s so Atlanta, so Southern, so Gone with the Wind.”
“Better than the alternative I suppose.”
“What would that be?”
“My father wanted to name me Coco after Coco Chanel, which might have worked in France, but here I don’t know. At least fun can be had with Ashleigh. You know, the Gone with the Wind melodrama.” I replied as we left the table and headed into the living room. “Would you like coffee, Max, or perhaps something stronger?”
“A brandy sounds great, love,” his accent thicker than earlier.
The change did not go unnoticed as I left to fetch the liquor. I returned with two snifters and handed one to him. He seated himself back on the sofa as I walked around to a chair where I could gaze at him from a safe distance.
“I thought, if you are in agreement, we’d stay at a condo that belongs to a girlfriend of mine. She travels extensively. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to let us use her place.”
“That sounds fine. When do you want to leave?” His deep brown stare roamed over my body, a grin curving his luscious lips.
I shifted in my seat, trying desperately not to notice. “Day after tomorrow suit you?”
*~*
Jamie Salisbury cannot imagine a time when she did not write. A skill that has served her well throughout her diversified professional career that encompassed public relations in and around the entertainment industry, photography, editing, and special event planning.
An avid reader of history, biographies, and romance it’s only natural that she prefers to write romances with characters said to be “so authentic they spring forth from the page and shake the reader’s hand.” No stranger to life threatening situations Jamie pulls from life experience when she creates her stories. Such as when her family had to escape Chile when she was a teen because of the unstable political climate.
Finding herself unable to walk great distances as a result of several foot surgeries, she started writing once again as a way to pass the time. With the completion of her first novel Perpetual Love she dove head first into the eBook and digital publishing paradigm. She couldn’t be happier with her decision to grab the publishing industry by the shoulders and force it to pay attention to all she has to offer.
Contact Links
Blog: http://www.jamiesalisburyauthor.blogspot.com
Website: http://www.jamiesalisbury.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jamie-Salisbury-Womans-Fiction-Author/202978499741542
Romance Novel Center: http://www.romancenovelcenter.com/jamiesalisbury
Twitter: @JamieRSalisbury










