C.D. Hersh's Blog, page 109
November 26, 2018
Tell Again Tuesday Do you plan your writing?
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
If You Write, Plan Your Sick Days
By Mandy Rosko
Everyone knows there are some basics that come with running your own business. Even if it’s just a side hustle that brings in some extra cash every month, these rules are key, and should be obeyed at all times.
I might leave a couple of things out, and these aren’t in any particular order, but if you want to know the main one we’ll be focusing on, you need. . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 23, 2018
Friday Feature #newbook from Anne Montgomery, A Light in the Desert
Looks at new book from
Anne Montgomery
Treehouse Publishing Group is proud to announce that acclaimed journalist Anne Montgomery’s latest psychological mystery/suspense novel based around one of the most enduring cold case crimes in Arizona history. Montgomery did in-depth research into the deadly 1995 cold-case derailment of an Amtrak train in the wilds of the Arizona desert before she penned this amazing story.
Set in Hyder, Arizona, Montgomery’s novel details the crumbling world of Jason Ramm, a broken former Special Forces sniper, whose crimes assault his conscience and an isolated child, Kelly, the lonely pregnant teen who in the guise of love, falls victim to abuse. Is Ramm her savior or something more insidious? Montgomery suffuses the tale with heartbreaking melancholy, both from the point of view of a rejected child who understands little of the outside world and the assassin who’s descending into the grips of an odd mental illness, the Jerusalem Syndrome, that threatens to replace who he is with something else.
Montgomery, a foster mom to three sons, works in Arizona as a football referee and high school teacher at a Title I school where many of her students live in poverty, some are abused, and others are relegated to foster care. On why she wrote the book, Montgomery says, “I have seen the suffering of neglected and abused children first-hand. Often, their voices go unheard. I believe child abuse needs to be a topic we address with ardent regularity, loudly and often, so that someday, perhaps, this cruelty can be relegated to the past.”
This novel is one you must read!
As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon.
When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil as local and state police, FBI investigators, and a horde of reporters arrive on the scene. As the search for the saboteurs heats up and the authorities question members of the cult, they uncover more questions than answers.
And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born deep in the wilderness.
BUY NOW from MIDPOINT BOOKS in Paperback or E-book.
Anne Montgomery has worked as a television sportscaster, newspaper and magazine writer, teacher, amateur baseball umpire, and high school football referee. She worked at WRBL‐TV in Columbus, Georgia, WROC‐TV in Rochester, New York, KTSP‐TV in Phoenix, Arizona, ESPN in Bristol, Connecticut, where she anchored the Emmy and ACE award‐winning SportsCenter, and ASPN-TV as the studio host for the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Montgomery has been a freelance and staff writer for six publications, writing sports, features, movie reviews, and archeological pieces.
When she can, Anne indulges in her passions: rock collecting, scuba diving, football refereeing, and playing her guitar.
Learn more about Anne Montgomery on her website and Wikipedia. Stay connected on Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter.
November 20, 2018
Wednesday Special Spotlight Good Morning Bread from HL Carpenter
Shines On
The dynamic duo HL Carpenter sharing their latest writing adventure and a delicious recipe for breakfast bread.
During the editing of our latest book, commas turned into a major topic of discussion. Yes, well, we’re writers, what did you expect? We like commas and we also like to slice commas from our writing so we have a conflict of interest. For example, in the first two sentences of this paragraph (and this sentence too), we used commas. We could have used a comma in the third sentence before the “and,” though we chose not to. Either way would have been correct.
Another example is the title of this post, Good Morning Bread. A comma would change the entire meaning. By omitting it, we imply (or say) the recipe below is a good (delicious) morning bread. Had we included a comma (Good morning, bread) we would be saying good morning to our bread. That would also fit, since the bread is definitely worthy of salutations.
Like bread, commas have lots of uses. You can splash them around in personal and geographic names, in numbers, before quotations that indicate speech such as “she said,” and in lists. If you’re the user of a certain word processing software, you can make your commas curly or straight and either style gets the job done.
We don’t claim to be experts on commas and we would be happy to hear your take on this very important punctuation. Let’s eat breakfast while we have the discussion. If you’re not hungry, then we’ll say, “Let’s eat, breakfast.”
Breakfast Bread
1½ cups dried mixed fruit (we used one 5-ounce package of mixed cranberries, cherries, blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries, and filled in the remainder with dried cranberries)
½ cup warm tea, any flavor
1 package regular yeast
½ cup warm water
2 tbsp. butter
½ cup coconut milk
3 tbsp. sugar
2 tbsp. honey
1 tsp. salt
1 egg
1 tsp. cinnamon
3 cups all-purpose flour
¾ cup nuts of your choice (we used pecans and pistachios)
Spray 2 loaf pans with cooking spray or line with parchment paper.
Soak dried fruit in bowl with warm tea. Set aside.
In separate bowl, add yeast to warm water. Set aside in a warm draft free location.
Melt butter.
Mix coconut milk, sugar, honey, salt, and egg. Add melted butter and stir. Next, add yeast and water mixture and stir.
Mix cinnamon and flour. Add to liquid ingredients and mix well.
Drain fruit. Add fruit and nuts to dough. Use your hands to mix, adding additional flour by tablespoons if necessary.
Let dough rise 1 hour. Punch down, divide in half, and shape into two equal loaves. Put loaves in prepared pans and let rise 40 minutes.
Heat oven to 350° F. Bake loaves 30 minutes. Cool in pan 5 minutes and remove to rack.
Serve warm or cold with butter or topping of your choice.
While you’re enjoying your bread, we invite you to sample an excerpt from our soon-to-be-released mystery.
Certified public accountant Fae Childers is not an embezzler, despite the belief of the accounting firm that fires her for stealing. But proving her innocence is harder than convincing an IRS agent to allow a deduction. She’s lost her mother, her job, her fiancé, and her self-respect. She’s running out of money and the lease is about to expire on her apartment.
Then the fortune-telling grandmother Fae never knew existed, whose name and psychic abilities she now learns are also hers, issues a challenge from beyond the grave—a challenge that brings Fae face to face with murder, embezzlement, romance, and a hidden family legacy.
When the mystery of Fae’s past collides with the troubles of her present, the situation veers out of control. Her very life is threatened. Who can she trust? The man she’s falling in love with? The former fiancé who has already betrayed her once? Or only herself?
With justice, romance, and her future at stake, Fae must overcome personal and professional obstacles to save herself and those she loves. And she’s going to have to do it fast, before someone else dies.
EXCERPT
The letter arrived on the last Thursday in April, two weeks to the day after I got fired from the accounting firm where I worked for the past decade. August Palmer, my landlord, hand-delivered the letter in person, saying, “The mail carrier stuck this in my box by mistake, Fae.”
I took the envelope without bothering to look at it and glanced past Gus, at the patch of brilliant cloudless blue sky framing his shoulders.
Tampa, Florida on the cusp of summer, full of birdsong and the scent of warming pavement.
“Beautiful morning,” I said, as if I cared.
“Afternoon,” Gus said, his voice a low rumbly growl, the product of too many cigarettes and whiskeys in his happily misspent youth. He stood outside the tiny apartment my mother and I rented from him for the past two years and eyed me. “Still mopin’, girl?”
He had shown up on my doorstep every day since the firing with the same question.
Adhering to our new routine, I answered the same way I always did, except this time I didn’t bother pasting on a fake smile to accompany the words.
“Nope. Not my style.”
“‘Scuse me.” His tone was as dry as the month he was named for. “Forgot you’ve been hidin’ in the apartment, tap dancing with glee.”
I met his gaze. “For hours at a time. Any complaints about the noise?”
He clicked a nicotine pellet against tobacco stained teeth and kept his silence. I regretted my sarcasm. In my forbidden childhood game of describing people in colors, I would have painted Gus early-morning-yellow, the shade of the summer sun before the friendly sheltering coolness of night gave way to the brutal heat of day.
The description would have horrified him.
“How are the treatments going?”
He grunted. “They tell me I ain’t gonna croak this week.”
“Glad to hear it. You might want to keep your distance from me, though. I’m jinxed.”
Gus shook his head. “You gotta get over them fools, girl.”
“That’s no way to talk about my former bosses.” Especially since I looked at the real fool in the mirror each morning. I had believed dedication, loyalty, and hard work were appreciated by the partners of Slezia + Fyne, CPA, PA.
Ha, ha.
“Anyway, I am over them. Way over.”
“Yeah?” He was not convinced. “You over the suit, too?”
“Sure am.” Once again, I stuck with our new routine and gave him the same answer I always did. “I have moved on.”
Once again, the lie carried the bitter taste of betrayal. The suit was Scott Piper, former co-worker, fiancé, and man of my dreams. The suit dumped me the day of the firing.
Gus snorted. “Funny how much movin’ on resembles standing around feeling sorry for yourself.”
In my opinion, wallowing in self-pity was marginally more mature than throwing a temper tantrum. Even if it hadn’t been, I didn’t have the energy for a tantrum. I barely had the energy to maintain my half of the daily conversation with Gus.
“Have you been watching that big bald guy on television again?”
He stuck out his chin. “Don’t get smart. You know I’m right. You’re mopin’.”
“Only because I can’t tap dance.”
He was right. In the eight months since my mother’s death, I had slogged through an ever-darkening morass of the malady Gus called moping, and what his favorite celebrity psychologist might consider the early stages of depression. The firing and the accompanying fallout shoved me even closer to the edge of a black abyss.
My moping was self-absorbed, given the burdens others faced, but what could I say? One woman’s detour was another’s stop sign.
“You ought to call your girl pal, that one you worked with. What’s her name? Sarah? Have you heard from her?”
No. And I didn’t want to hear from her, much less call her.
I shook my head.
“Your ma would have been annoyed with you.”
A lump in my throat closed off my voice and I could only nod. He was right about that too. My irrepressible mother believed in taking the positive approach to life. To her, saying negative words or thinking negative thoughts was the same as asking them to come true. She had little patience for pity parties.
Focus on your strengths, Fae, and always keep moving.
My ability to follow her advice vanished with her death. I was slowly turning into the type of recluse the Japanese call hikikomori. Even the simple task of cleaning out Mom’s bedroom was beyond me.
“So? You gonna open the letter?” Gus asked.
I turned over the envelope in my hand.
Heavy, officious, dirty white, and mildly threatening, the envelope shrieked of the intimidation perfected by lawyers and the Internal Revenue Service and jolted me right out of my apathy. My breath hitched in my throat.
Had Gary Slezia and Richard Fyne gone back on their word? Had they decided to forego their distaste for publicity and press charges against me?
Murder by the Books, a mystery novel, will be available at Amazon.
Mother/daughter author duo HL Carpenter write family-friendly fiction from their studios in Carpenter Country, a magical place that, like their stories, is unreal but not untrue. When they’re not writing, they enjoy exploring the Land of What-If and practicing the fine art of Curiosity. Visit their website to enjoy gift reads and excerpts and to find out what’s happeni
ng in Carpenter Country.
Stay connected on Twitter, Pinterest, Linkedin, Google+, GoodReads, and their Amazon Author Page.
November 19, 2018
Tell Again Tuesday Journey of Creating
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Positive Quotes: Create your Destiny.
By Lorraine Ambers
Every creator needs inspiration, a muse, a way of seeing the world around them. This week we’re taking a look inside the mind of a writer, This Writer – points a finger at her chest, to discover the journey of Creating your Destiny. Do you identify with . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 15, 2018
Friday Feature Pumpkin Soup by Dominique Eastwick
Guest talks about
One of the reasons why she loves fall
by
Dominique Eastwick
One of the many reasons I just love about fall are pumpkins. I love to carve them, look at them, and eat them.
I love pumpkin muffins, pumpkin pancakes, pumpkin bread, pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin pie, pumpkin spice Latte…I could go on and on. But one of my favorite things is Pumpkin Soup. So celebrate the fall season with a bowl of the easiest soup ever, especially if you use canned pumpkin. And you can quote me on this – nothing tastes better on a cold day.
Pumpkin Soup
1 stick butter or margarine
2 clove garlic, finely chopped
4 tsp. packed brown sugar
2 cans of chicken broth
1 cup water
½ tsp. salt (optional)
2 cans (15 ounces) Pumpkin or 2 cups pureed fresh pumpkin
2 cans (12 fluid ounces) evaporated milk
½ tsp. ground cinnamon
Ground nutmeg to garnish
Melt butter in large saucepan. Add garlic and brown sugar; cook for 1 to 2 minutes or until soft.
Add broth and water; bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Cook on low, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes.
Stir in pumpkin, evaporated milk, and cinnamon. Cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally.
With real pumpkin you may need to puree your soup again.
Serve warm and enjoy.
serves 10
How about a hot read while you enjoy a warm bowl of soup?
The babies are coming… the Wiccan Haus will never be the same.
Things are not as calm at the Wiccan Haus as they usually are. The impending birth of Dana and Rekkus’ cubs has everyone on edge. The last thing anyone wants or expects is a series of uninvited guests.
Ashlynn Stone hasn’t spoken to her sister Dana since she left for the Wiccan Haus over a year earlier. But when a fluke accident on the fashion runway forces her to seek the healing of the Wiccan Haus, she has no choice but to pack her bags and take the ferry to the island with her family in tow.
Shadedor has been sent to the Wiccan Haus to assess the situation. But he soon finds more than he expected. His soul mate in need of healing. Can he negotiate the issues of the Wiccan Haus and overcome the walls Ashlynn has built to protect herself.
As the Haus prepares for the biggest event since it opened, can the siblings find harmony and manage to do what they do best, heal those in need? Or is it too much for them to take?
Welcome back to the Wiccan Haus.
EXCERPT
He walked. This morning, he had been right next to her, and there had been constant contact. Now they would appear to anyone passing to be complete strangers. “You want to tell me what is going on?”
“We are attempting to remove all stress from your life in hopes of easing the headaches.”
“No, with you. If you would prefer to be elsewhere, I can go back to my room and lie down.”
He stopped. “There is nowhere I would rather be.”
“Then why are you acting like I have the plague? Was it the kiss earlier?”
“I overstepped my boundaries this morning. I should not have done so.”
“Do you regret it?”
“I am assisting the staff here in your healing. It is inappropriate for me to come on to you.”
“Are you on staff here?”
“No.”
“That settles it.” She smiled. Closing the distance between them, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I do not know what is going on, but I do know my pain and fears ease when you are near. I don’t claim to understand how you discern all you do, but I am starting to see things here aren’t always black and white, and sometimes I have to have faith and trust.”
After a brief second of him standing as still as a statue and her wondering if she read too much into this morning’s embrace, he relaxed. His arms snaked around her, pulling her against his hard body. His mouth came down on hers begging her to open for him, demanding she submit to his kiss. She might have started this dance, but he would damned well be leading it.
BUY LINKS
Amazon – Decadent Publishing
Award-Winning author Dominique Eastwick currently calls North Carolina home with her husband, two children, one crazy lab and one lazy cat. Dominique spent much of her early life moving from state to state as a Navy Brat. Because of that, traveling is one of her favorite pastimes. When not writing you can find Dominique with her second love…her camera.
Learn more about Dominique Eastwick on her website, blog, and Amazon author page. Be sure to join her Newsletter for up to the minute info on new releases, contests, and more.
November 13, 2018
Wednesday Special Spotlight Author Dianna Gunn and her new book, Moonshadow’s Guardian
Shines On
Our guest Dianna Gunn sharing her thoughts about stories about the dead and her latest captivating book Moonshadow’s Guardian. Be sure to get your advanced copy today!
Few things are as universally human as our fascination with our own deaths. Stories about the dead, and what happens to them when they leave this realm, have permeated every human culture. And although they haven’t always been called necromancers, there have always been tales of people who could communicate with the souls of the deceased. Many cultures even have festivals to celebrate the dead, like the Day of the Dead or early Halloween celebrations.
In the many of the most well-known tales, these necromancers are cruel, evil people who abuse the souls of the dead. People who raise undead armies or use secrets they learn from the dead to blackmail the living.
Surely communicating with the dead is not inherently evil? These powers could be used to provide families with closure when a loved one dies suddenly, or if resurrection is possible to grant a second life to one dead too soon.
As someone who lost my father to cancer at the tender age of twelve, I have obvious reasons to be drawn to this idea. I can’t begin to explain what it would mean to me to actually communicate with my dad, to show him the books I’ve finally put into the world and see his big smile, to hear him tell me how proud he is of me.
So in Moonshadow’s Guardian, necromancy is a complex thing. It has potential to be evil, and indeed the greatest evil known to this kingdom is a necromantic curse. But necromancy also has the power to be used for good. Necromancy allows people to enjoy second chances at life, to communicate with their loved ones, and to gain closure. In some instances, it’s even used as part of murder investigations.
There may be no clear answers on the ethics of necromancy in Moonshadow, but one thing is for certain: they have the same fascination with death known throughout human cultures right here on Earth.
All Riana has ever wanted is freedom. Unfortunately, that’s the one thing her kind cannot have.
Bound by the curse in her demonic blood for millennia, Riana has tried several times to bend the rules and live out her life in the mortal realm. Now her consistent rule breaking has drawn the attention of Loki, God of Mischief, the main tormentor of Riana’s kind. But instead of punishing her, he offers her the escape she has always desired. All she has to do to is save the kingdom of Moonshadow from a mysterious magical plague.
Armed only with the inherent power of her own blood and Loki’s pet dragon, Riana is determined to fight for the right to create her own destiny.
However, when her mission forces her to destroy the last remnants of an ancient culture, Riana must ask – what is freedom really worth?
Moonshadow’s Guardian is a tale about the meaning of belonging, and the struggle to create a future not defined by your past.
Pre-order your copy on Amazon and Kobo now! Your copy will magically appear on November 17th.
Dianna L. Gunn is a freelance writer by day and a fantasy author by night. She knew she wanted to be a writer since she was eight years old. Dianna wrote her first novel for Nanowrimo at eleven years old. As an adult, Dianna quickly discovered writing books is not an easy way to make a living. So she decided to broaden her horizons, seeking another career that still allowed her to work with words.
Her freelance writing career started when she became a marketing intern at Musa Publishing in September 2011 and quickly became a staff writer in charge of multiple imprint blogs. Since then she has worked with a variety of small businesses and non-profits to improve their online brands and create long term marketing strategies. Some of her most notable work has been for the tech education non-profit STEAMLabs and natural dog care company ProPooch. She is dedicated to helping her clients build successful brands and making their dreams come true.
Need help creating awesome content for your business? Send an email to diannalgunn@gmail.com explaining what your needs are, and she will help you.
When she isn’t helping her clients bring their dreams to life, Dianna can be found working on her own dream of being a successful fantasy author.
Dianna blogs about writing, creativity, and books at The Dabbler.
Learn more about Dianna on Facebook and follow her on Twitter.
November 12, 2018
Tell Again Tuesday Writing for You
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Why You Need to Accept Some of Your Stories Are Being Written For The Future You #MondayBlogs #Writer
By Lucy Mitchell
Here’s a secret about writing which I have discovered – some stories you write will not turn out the way you expected them to because they are meant to be improved and perfected by the future you.
The future you will one day turn the story you are struggling with into something better.
The future you will be able to see why your current thriller isn’t working.
The future you will be better equipped to deal with that troublesome character in your romance novel.
The future you will do big things with that draft book you have just shoved into drawer.
Sometimes we just need to . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 8, 2018
Friday Feature Daughter of the South Wind #FREE from 12-16 Nov
Guest talks about
Family Secret Recipes or parental respect
by
KD DuBois
I feel bad that I don’t have a recipe to share, but here’s why: my mother.
Anything I have worth sharing comes from a collection my mother handed to me when I left college and moved into my first apartment. On each card, in the top right corner and in bold, capital letters, she wrote FAMILY SECRET RECIPE and underlined the words—twice. During the hand-off, she didn’t let go of the stack until I had looked her in the eye and promised I wouldn’t share them. And you know what I stared into, the mom-glare that makes you squirm even thinking about it.
Nope, no way in hell am I going to incur the wrath of Mom. She may be over eighty, but I’m fairly positive she could still whup my butt.
Writing this post has made me think it may be time to get permission from Mom to share some of those recipes. You know, the way the military reviews classified information after 25-years and decides whether or not to downgrade it. She and Dad are coming to visit sometime this month—and I won’t know the exact date until they’re halfway here and decide to tell me they’ve hit the road—so it might be time to have our own declassification review.
I bet eighty percent get through and the rest fall under some type of exemption.
We’ll have fun, though, walking down memory lane for each one, reliving some special moment or remembering those in our family who are no longer with us and either loved or hated the dish. I bet we also remember the apple pie we never got to eat because of a tornado, much like Dawn’s family experienced in Daughter of the South Wind.
In a way, the process will be our own Thanksgiving for the rich lives we’ve lived. And I’ll make a few of recipes, too, because, duh, they wouldn’t be secret if they weren’t tasty.
All I can offer you is a yummy read, and my book (e-book) Daughter of the South Wind will be on sale for FREE from 12-16 Nov. Click on the link below to get it, and keep checking this blog or my social media for one of those recipes!
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BLURB
As if grad school wasn’t hard enough, Dawn Wynham battles her bossy sister’s interference with her private life and resists divulging one secret—her very realistic dreams about tornados and the man who morphs out of them, Nino. After chasing twisters for her meteorology degree, why not indulge in a little sexy fantasy to enhance the adrenaline highs?
Nino’s visits tantalize Dawn, his mythological viewpoints mysterious yet familiar. When make-believe blends into real-life, she must choose between the practicality of her mind and the yearnings of her heart or else lose everything she holds dear.
The most desirable path holds the greatest danger. Dawn knows what feels right in the depths of her soul—and hopes her decision doesn’t cast Nino away from her forever.
Click here to buy Daughter of the South Wind
EXCERPT
“Please stop calling me that. My name’s Dawn. I have no idea who Tira is.”
“But you do, and I am here to aid your recollection.”
“Yeah, well first, better tell me who you are.”
The primitive shadows of my brain which governed fright or flight said I should call 911, but the modern and more practical recesses of my mind argued the responders would likely search the apartment for drugs, because the story of what I thought as reality played out more like a comedian’s recount of an acid trip. Truthfully, I didn’t feel threatened by him. A strange sense of peace had washed through me at his touch. Like I belonged with him.
“You might as well sit.” I motioned to the bed. “Because I have more questions than the SAT exam.”
He displayed perfect squat form to perch on the edge of the mattress. “How should I begin?”
“Start with your name.”
“Minninnos, but friends and family call me Nino.”
I had no idea what to ask next. Too many questions spun in my mind, such as why he’d been in my dreams or what happened to Chrissy and Taran. Maybe what freaked me out the most should get priority.
“How the hell did you survive the tornado?”
He wore a pained expression, his eyes squinted, his lips parted. Silence indicated he either didn’t know how to explain it, or he didn’t want to. Count that one as a pass. Next question.
“Okay, since it’s too hard to answer, why do your irises swirl?”
His shoulders raised and lowered, and his breath exhaled in a loud rush. His mercurial whirling orbs caught my gaze and held it.
“The answers to both inquiries are related. I hesitate because I do not know if you will accept the truth.” He propped his forearms on his knees, their long muscles defined as he clasped his hands. “It is important to me, and others, you do.” The orbital motion slowed, and he shook his head side-to-side once. “I do not want to frighten you. There is not enough time.”
His intensity borderlined anguish. My acceptance of his explanation somehow played an important, albeit unknown, role in his life.
“I’m a scientist and have to know why things happen. What occurred today defies all logic, so I’m curious and want answers. Just tell the truth. Don’t hold back.”
Click here to buy Daughter of the South Wind and find out the truth
READER COMMENTS:
“I laughed, I cried, I was happy, I was sad, I enjoyed reading this book so much!” -Angi T
“When I pickup a new book and yearn for the day to come to a close so I can pickup where I left off… or maybe even grab a couple chapters between workday tasks then I know it’s a good book, this was the case with Daughter of the South Wind.” -Chris W.
“I read this book in less than 48-hours because I had to see what crazy situation Dawn got herself into next, as well as where her fated encounter with Nino would take her.” -Lynnann L.
BIO
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KD DuBois writes fantasy mixed with a touch of romance. Her current book delves into mythology, giving obscure gods and goddesses their own stories. It’s the first of a series in a world she created called The Immortal Dimension.
Twenty-eight years in a military uniform took KD DuBois to many unique places around the globe. But a few choice assignments in year-round mild climates spoiled any inclinations to retire where even a hint of snow might fall. Instead of settling down in her home state of Kansas, she planted roots in the perpetual sunshine of south-central Texas.
With the opportunity to start a second career, KD took a class and got inspired to write. Now she types away and takes an occasional break to ride her bike and enjoy the sunshine. Visit her website to learn more about her and what she’s working on.
SOCIAL LINKS
November 6, 2018
Wednesday Special Spotlight Deadly Triad Series Deadly Revenge
Shines On
Book Two in the Deadly Triad series by Nancy Kay is now available on Amazon! This romantic suspense is filled with intrigue and plenty of twists to satisfy every reader. And the terrific thing is the books do not have to be read in order. Be sure to get you copy today.
A former Marine is captivated by an alluring widow until a sniper’s bullet shatters the illusion his covert past is behind him.
Culinary herb gardener Ada Blaine lost her husband at a tender age. To survive she channeled a family tradition into a successful business. Former Marine Rich McConnell left behind a nasty divorce and traded a promising military career for a hardware store with no complications.
After Ada shows up at a Christmas Eve bash looking drop dead gorgeous, Rich finds his can’t keep his hands off the elusive gardener, and his subtle charm weakens the wall around Ada’s heart.
Then a sniper’s bullet shatters a quiet spring morning. Rich fears his covert past has come back to haunt him, and Ada fights paralyzing fear to salvage their love amidst life threatening danger.
Amazon Buy Link
Nancy Kay resides near Lake Erie in Western Pennsylvania with her husband, a former member of the Marines and the Pennsylvania State Police Department who provides valuable insight for her stories. Nancy is a long time member of Romance Writers of America. Her stories are set in small towns and inland communities scattered along the shores of the Great Lakes. They focus on romance, intertwined with the love of hearth, home, and family. Yet, they are sprinkled with suspense, danger, and intrigue. Learn more about Nancy on her website and blog.
November 5, 2018
Tell Again Tuesday A balm for the writing soul
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Color Soothes the Creative Soul
By Nancy Kay
The list of fall activities is endless. Challenging corn mazes, pumpkins galore, and any number of craft fairs cover entire pages of the morning paper as soon as the first, red tinged leaf falls. Summer shot past in a heartbeat amidst beach events, bike events, and any number of creative ways to fund your favorite charity. Not that any or all events aren’t fun or a great contribution in one way or another, no, it’s the result of creative minds and so many needs around us.
But what about the quiet souls? Artists, musicians, and yes, writers who seek inspiration from natural beauty that evolves as the nights cool and the day grow short? . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
