C.D. Hersh's Blog, page 162
May 25, 2015
Tell Again Tuesday Writer’s Block Soap Angela Christina Archer
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Here is another way to address the issue we all run into when writing. That lack of words coming out of the finger tips to the keys to make them appear on the screen to be recorded for posterity.
Writer’s Block Soap? #writing #amwriting #writerslife #writertips #author
Posted on May 18, 2015 by authorangelachristinaarcher
“Lube the mind. Or the body. Wait, what? Lather the body. Not lube. Freudian slip. So the wordsmith’s well has run dry? Try this specially-crafted Writer’s Block soap. If this soap doesn’t help you churn out regurgitated ideas and probably a vampire, I’ll eat my hat. It’s a fedora, by the way. Cool vampires wear fedoras now. Put that in your crack pipe and smoke it. Or in your book. Either way, you’re gonna need this soap ASAP. Your ideas are terrible.”
*Thump*
I’m sorry, I just fell out of my chair from laughing. If you are wondering if this is an actual product…
For the rest of the blog go to:
http://angelachristinaarcher.com/2015/05/18/writers-block/
May 21, 2015
Friday Feature Joanne Guidoccio A Season for Killing Blondes
Presents
Joanne Guidoccio
Author of
A Season for Killing Blondes
Joanne has graciously agreed to sit down and answer a few questions for your information and enjoyment.
Could you please tell our readers a little about the book you have brought with you to share today?
A Season for Killing Blondes is the first book in the Gilda Greco Mystery Series. Based in Northern Ontario, these books feature a fifty-something Italian woman, her relatives, deserving and undeserving men, and food.
Food, relatives and Italian just seem to go together. How did you come up with the concept for this book?
In 2004, I was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer. While receiving treatments, friends shared inspirational and comedic books and DVDs. But all I wanted to read were cozies, those delightful murder mysteries that include a bloodless crime and contain little violence, sex, or coarse language. I read voraciously, often finishing a cozy in one or two sittings. Toward the end of treatments, I came up with a storyline for my own cozy – A Season for Killing Blondes.
Logline: A brunette lottery winner never has an alibi when dead blondes turn up in dumpsters near her favorite haunts.
Brunette with no alibi sounds intriguing. With our third book coming out the end of the month we’ve started on the fourth in our series. What are you working on now? Do you have a release date for this book?
A Season for Killing Blondes is now available for pre-order. It will be released on June 12th. In August, Soul Mate Publishing will release The Coming of Arabella, the sequel to Between Land and Sea. Right now, I’m working on the first draft of Book 3 in the Mediterranean trilogy, The Making of a Mermaid Psychic.
Some writers like quiet when they write, others want music. Which one are you?
I cannot write amid any chaos – auditory or otherwise. For that reason, I can only write at home.
On occasion we will have music playing in our individual writing spaces, but never when working together. Couldn’t hear ourselves thinking. Tell us about your writing space.
Originally, I had designated my den as a writing space, but I felt too confined and relocated to an empty space in my large living area. Whenever I need a break, I swivel my chair and take in the majestic trees outside my window.
Do you have a favorite book? (Or books since it’s always hard to whittle it down to one.
I have eclectic tastes and enjoy reading contemporary women’s fiction, cozy mysteries, thrillers, historical fiction, self-help, and memoirs. Some of my favorite authors include Ann Patchett, Ann Lamott, Ken Follett, Jane Green, Maeve Binchy, Gail Bowen, Louise Penny, Adriana Trigiani, Louise Hay, and Dr.Christiane Northrup.
When we take a break we sit down to watch some TV together. What’s your favorite television show currently running? Favorite show of all time?
When I started writing full-time, I downgraded to basic cable. While my selection is limited, I still have access to my favorite series – Downton Abbey, The Good Wife, and Madam Secretary. During my teens and twenties, I loved watching the Mary Tyler Moore show.
Downton Abbey and Madam Secretary are two of our favorites. So for a little fun, let’s fire out some quick questions and see what your responses are.
Favorite food?
Greek—souvlaki, spanakopita, moussaka, baklava…
Favorite singer or band?
Love these beautiful voices – Liona Boyd, Barbara Streisand, Olivia Newton John
Favorite season?
Whenever I look out at Nature’s breathtaking fall palette, I am inspired and invigorated to start anew. Anything and everything is possible during the cool, crisp days of autumn.
Favorite flower?
Red Roses
Favorite color?
Purple
Mug or teacup?
Teacup. I have fond memories of afternoon tea with my mother. Whenever I visited, I looked forward to a proper tea with porcelain cups, silver spoons, and fresh pastries.
Joanne, thanks for being willing to take our questions on and sharing with our followers. Now, followers, it’s your turn to find out about Joanne’s book. If you like what you read below, go over to Amazon and buy a copy of A Season for Killing Blondes.
Blurb
Hours before the opening of her career counseling practice, Gilda Greco discovers the dead body of golden girl Carrie Ann Godfrey, neatly arranged in the dumpster outside her office. Gilda’s life and budding career are stalled as Detective Carlo Fantin, her former high school crush, conducts the investigation.
When three more dead blondes turn up all brutally strangled and deposited near Gilda’s favorite haunts, she is pegged as a prime suspect for the murders. Frustrated by Carlo’s chilly detective persona and the mean girl antics of Carrie Ann’s meddling relatives, Gilda decides to launch her own investigation. She discovers a gaggle of suspects, among them a yoga instructor in need of anger management training, a lecherous photographer, and fourteen ex-boyfriends.
As the puzzle pieces fall into place, shocking revelations emerge, forcing Gilda to confront the envy and deceit she has long overlooked.
Trailer
Excerpt
Carlo had removed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt. His tie lay on the desk. The rumpled look suited him to a tee. And his large black-rimmed glasses accentuated those unforgettable blue eyes. Bluer than blue. Sky blue. Cornflower blue. Robin’s egg blue. Years ago, Adele Martino and I had come up with thirty-seven descriptions of Carlo Fantin’s eyes when Mrs. Gillespie assigned one of her Monday morning English composition exercises. As I tried to recall the other thirty-three, I realized that Carlo was speaking to me.
“…he’ll be taking notes as well.”
Darn! Another officer in the room, and I had missed his name and more importantly, his title. Was he a detective or a constable? I’m sure Sofia would know. In the meantime, I better stop daydreaming and start listening. I nodded in the direction of the beefy officer. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Expertly trimmed moustache. A big bear of a man who reminded me of Magnum P.I.
Carlo cleared his throat. He was ready to get down to business. Police business. “It appears that Carrie Ann was your first client. You haven’t opened this office for business yet. How did that happen?”
My heart raced as I spoke. “After Sofia and my mother left…I’m not certain about the time…um…I…I heard a knock at the front window. I looked up and saw Carrie Ann. Hadn’t seen her in ages.” I paused and then added, “Still wearing the same pageboy hair style and that blonde color—”
Carlo waved his hand. “Stick to the facts, please.”
I felt myself reddening as those piercing blue eyes bored right through me. “Oh, sorry. Um, I let Carrie Ann in.”
“And?” Carlo said when I hesitated.
I shrugged. “We just talked for a while, then, uh…” I closed my eyes and tried to recall the conversation. But nothing concrete came to mind, only Carrie Ann’s infectious laugh and bubbly compliments about the decorating scheme. When I opened my eyes, the other officer offered me a water bottle. I thanked him and gulped down half the contents.
“You scheduled her for a session tomorrow morning,” Carlo said as he held up my appointment book. “Carrie Ann is…was considered one of the best interior designers in town. Why would she need counseling from you?” His dark brows drew together in a suspicious frown. “Were you planning to tell her to give it up?”
Buy Links
Amazon (Canada) – http://is.gd/t0g1KZ
Amazon (United States) – http://is.gd/jADjPp
Amazon (United Kingdom) – http://is.gd/8mknFJ
Amazon (Australia) – http://is.gd/r843iX
Kobo – http://is.gd/BpO9gY
Bio
In high school, Joanne dabbled in poetry, but it would be over three decades before she entertained the idea of writing as a career. She listened to her practical Italian side and earned degrees in mathematics and education. She experienced many fulfilling moments as she watched her students develop an appreciation (and sometimes, love) of mathematics. Later, she obtained a post-graduate diploma as a career development practitioner and put that skill set to use in the co-operative education classroom. She welcomed this opportunity to help her students experience personal growth and acquire career direction through their placements.
In 2008, she took advantage of early retirement and decided to launch a second career that would tap into her creative side and utilize her well-honed organizational skills. Slowly, a writing practice emerged. Her articles and book reviews were published in newspapers, magazines, and online. When she tried her hand at fiction, she made reinvention a recurring theme in her novels and short stories. A member of Sisters in Crime, Crime Writers of Canada, and Romance Writers of America, Joanne writes paranormal romance, cozy mysteries, and inspirational literature from her home base of Guelph, Ontario.
Where to find Joanne…
Website: http://joanneguidoccio.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/joanneguidoccio
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorjoanneguidoccio
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/joanneguidoccio
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jguidoccio/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7277706.Joanne_Guidoccio
May 20, 2015
Thursday Threads The Tithe Elle Hill
Welcomes
The Tithe
By
Elle Hill
Genre: Science fiction romance
Heat level: Sensuous
Back blurb:
“Every seven years, seven persons from each of the ten towns must go into the desert, where they will enter into the realm of Elovah, their God.”
No one knows exactly what happens to these seventy Tithes, but everyone knows who: the “unworkables,” those with differing physical and mental capacities. Joshua Barstow, raised for twenty years among her town’s holy women, is one of these seventy Tithes. She is joined by the effervescent Lynna, the scholarly Avery, and the amoral Blue, a man who has spent most of his life in total solitude.
Each night, an angel swoops down to take one of their numbers. Each night, that is, except the first, when the angel touches Josh… and leaves her. What is so special about Josh? She doesn’t feel special; she feels like a woman trying to survive while finally learning the meanings of friendship, community, and love.
How funny that she had to be sacrificed to find reasons to live.
Excerpt:
The lights in the Great Room went out.
No flickers, no dimming, no sizzling sounds—nothing. Just darkness where light used to be.
A man cried out and several people gasped.
“It’s all right, everyone,” Marcus called. Really, he was beginning to annoy Josh, too. He didn’t know that. No one did. “I’m sure this has—”
A whooshing sound, like air displaced, sliced through the room. For a tiny, tense moment, no one spoke.
“Is it an angel?” a child’s voice asked.
Several voices broke out then, some in shouts, some in startled cries, one or two in terror.
Just like the night before, the fold and crack of feathered wings in motion breathed through the room. Weak light from the multiple hallways leaked through the perimeters. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the sudden darkness, Josh found she could identify vague outlines.
Someone a few seats down leapt to her feet and hurled herself toward Josh, perhaps seeking the sterile safety of the kitchen. She stumbled over Josh’s outstretched legs and hurtled to the ground. Josh gasped in pain.
And still, the snap and sigh of wings overhead.
Josh wanted to stand up, to defend herself. She wanted to shrink into the upholstery, to make herself as small as possible. In the end, she sat still, trembling in indecision.
“The angels!” someone cried in something like terror, or perhaps ecstasy.
“Keep them away from me!” Someone—she thought it might be Len—shrieked.
Several people jumped to their feet and pushed their way through the room, seeking some kind of safety. The woman who’d tripped over Josh lay whimpering on the ground.
Whump, whump . . .
A warm arm encircled Josh’s shoulder. She shrieked before realizing it belonged to Blue. The baggy sleeves of his black tunic partially covered her head. She turned to him, and he pressed her closer.
I don’t think I want to court you, she remembered him saying, and almost sprayed laughter. Who knew they’d practically snuggle later that day?
The thump of wings grew closer. An outline of a human-sized object hurtled through the air and the darkness toward her. What had to be its wings spread around it, moving and tilting. Some stray ray of light gleamed whitely off the area where eyes should be. They seemed fixed directly on her.
Links:
Email: elle@ellehill.com
Website: http://www.ellehill.com/
Blog: ellehillauthor.blogspot.com/
Book buy link: http://www.amazon.com/Tithe-Elle-Hill-ebook/dp/B00MVCPJFG
May 19, 2015
Wednesday Special Spotlight Son of the Moonless Night
Shines on
Son of the Moonless Night
Title – Son of the Moonless Night, The Turning Stone Chronicles, book three
Author – C.D. Hersh
Genre – Paranormal Suspense Romance
Heat Level – Sensual
Release Date: May 27th, 2015
HOOK
Thrust back into the world of paranormal huntress, Deputy Coroner Katrina Romanovski must unravel a string of murders she believes are vampire attacks. When she discovers the shape shifter she’s in love with is the murderer, she must reconcile her feelings for him, examine her life of violence against paranormals, and justify deceiving him in order to bring him to justice.
BLURB
Owen Todd Jordan Riley has a secret. He’s a shape shifter who has been hunting and killing his own kind. To him the only good shifter is a dead shifter. Revenge for the death of a friend motivates him, and nothing stands in his way . . . except Katrina Romanovski, the woman he is falling in love with.
Deputy coroner Katrina Romanovski has a secret, too. She hunts and kills paranormal beings like Owen. At least she did. When she rescues Owen from an attack by a werebear she is thrust back into the world she thought she’d left. Determined to find out what Owen knows about the bear, she begins a relationship meant to collect information. What she gets is something quite different-love with a man she suspects of murder. Can she reconcile his deception and murderous revenge spree and find a way to redeem him? Or will she condemn him for the same things she has done and walk away from love?
Excerpt:
A crash in the alley stopped Katrina Romanovski mid-stride. Like the October mist swirling in off the lake, her gypsy blood stirred sending her intuition into high gear. Something unnatural was happening.
Go see what’s wrong. She heard her father’s voice as clearly as if he stood next to her.
On the heels of his words came her mother’s pragmatic warning in clipped British tones. You know what curiosity killed. Katrina pushed the ever-present warning aside. Mom never approved of Dad’s supernatural hunts and even less of his drawing her into them.
Pulling the oversized cross she always wore out from under her shirt, Kat looked around for a weapon. Please, not a vampire. I hate vampires! A piece of wood sticking out of the trashcan at the front of the alley caught her eye.
Grabbing it, she broke the end off into a sharp point. The mist-filled air filtered the light from the single bulb over one of the alley doorways. The wind swirled the loose trash around making a quiet approach difficult. Sidestepping the paper, with the stake in one hand and holding the gun she took from her purse in the other hand, she crept into the alley.
A roar echoed against the buildings, the sound nearly sending her running. That roar wasn’t a vampire. It sounded more like an animal. Kat inched closer. In the yellow pool of light from the back door of the building, a black bear, over seven feet tall, reared on its back legs and swung its paw at the man standing at the edge of the light. He crashed to the ground, shirt torn open from the slashing claws. Blood covered the fabric, and he clasped his left hand over his shoulder to stem the flow. The bear bent toward him, teeth bared in a smile. A wicked smile.
Kat aimed her gun, but before she could pull the trigger, a shot rang out. The flash of gunpowder lit the face of the injured man. The blast reverberated against the buildings. With an enraged bellow, the bear staggered backward against the wall. Shaking his head, the animal dropped to all four paws. Weaving like a drunk, he lumbered toward his attacker. The man took aim again, shooting the animal between the eyes. Animal and human collapsed on the dirty, littered pavement.
As she started to move forward, Kat’s gypsy senses crawled over her skin like angry red ants. As she slipped back into the shadows, the bear shed fur. Changing size. Then, finally, turning into a man.
Shape shifters. Her stake wasn’t any good against them, and her bullets weren’t silver. This one appeared dead anyway. Had the wounded man seen the shift? Tossing the stake aside, she paused by the shifter and quickly moved to the wounded man. Out cold. Still human.
When she touched him, his eyelids fluttered open. “Did I get it?”
“What?”
“The bear.”
Amazon buy links:
The Promised One (The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 1):
eBook: http://amzn.com/B00DUMODKI
paper back: http://amzn.com/1619353504
Blood Brothers (The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2):
eBook: http://amzn.com/B00OVNFC8W
Son of the Moonless Night (The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3):
eBook: http://amzn.com/B00XK3E172
May 18, 2015
Tell Again Tuesday Kim Headlee’s King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
We’ve always loved time travel and an early one was Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court which was also a favorite movie with Bing Crosby. So when we saw this book we just had to share.
Week #6 of Medieval Monday: Kim Headlee’s King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court
Posted on May 11, 2015
Today’s Medieval Monday Spring features Kim Headlee’s time travel, King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court. Kim spins a tale of the infamous Morgan le Fay and how she winds up trying to rebuild her kingdom in none other than Washington, D.C.—in 2079!
For the rest of the blog go to:
May 14, 2015
Friday Feature Kim Loraine Restoration
Visit with
Kim Loraine
Author of
Restoration
Today we have Kim Loraine with us to chat about her book and herself.
Kim we’re glad you could stop by.
Thanks for having me.
Could you please tell our readers a little about the book you have brought with you to share today?
Restoration is a story of finding love after loss. My heroine, Grace, thought she’d never find love again after the love of her life, John, died tragically. A year later, she’s still haunted by memories of him in their hometown of Golden Beach Virginia. She’s a restorative architect, working on preserving the historical status of structures undergoing renovations. When she’s offered a job in the UK she jumps at the chance to leave behind the reminders of John. Accompanied by her friend and assistant, Valerie, Grace thinks the small English village of Braley is just what she needs. Until she literally runs into Drew Tensley. He’s the local grocer, handsome, kind, and the spitting image of John. As she falls into a passionate relationship with Drew, she questions herself and her feelings.
Literally running into someone sounds like an interesting way to meet someone up close. How did you come up with the concept for this book?
This concept is very loosely based on a small plotline of one episode of Doctor Who. I remember watching it and thinking, Hmm, what if something like that happened in real life? How would that work? What would I do?
A Doctor Who fan. We’ve enjoyed that show over the years but don’t follow it currently. Speaking of currently, what are you working on now? Do you have a release date for this book?
I’m waiting on edits of the second book in the Golden Beach Series. It is called Renovation and is Valerie’s story. I am about 50% done with the third book, as yet untitled. Each book can be read as a stand-alone. It is scheduled to be released in the fall of 2015.
Some writers like quiet when they write, others want music. Which one are you?
I have to have music playing pretty much all the time. I’ve been a musician my whole life so having silence makes me sad. I put together a working playlist for each of my books.
We both play various instruments and sing but
don’t have music playing in our writing space. Tell us about your writing space.
I live in Japan, in a traditional Japanese house. I use my tatami room as my writing space when I am home alone. Otherwise I hit up the local Starbucks, or head to a park. Right now the Sakura are in bloom and the weather is warm, so I like to spend time outside under the blossoms.
Warn weather? We’ve forgotten what warm weather feels like although it’s beginning to warm up. As writers we also tend to be readers. Do you have a favorite book? (Or books since it’s always hard to whittle it down to one.)
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon has to be my number one. I can go back to that story over and over and discover something new each time. I also love The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan and The All Souls Trilogy by Deborah Harkness.
We started reading books when we were young. What’s the first book you ever remember reading as a child?
I was a very early reader. The first book I remember hearing was The Hobbit. My dad used to read it to me every night. The first book I remember reading by myself was The Little Vampire, which I think is out of print now.
When we take a break we sit down to watch some TV together. What’s your favorite television show currently running? Favorite show of all time?
I am loving Outlander and The Walking Dead (except I have nightmares so I can only watch that one in the middle of the day with all the lights on). My favorite show of all time is Doctor Who. The tenth Doctor is my absolute favorite.
Well, then, to not turn this into a scary situation, lets fire out some quick questions and see what your responses are.
Favorite food?
Tacos. I’m originally from Texas and my family has always had Tex-Mex food for special occasions.
Favorite singer or band?
This is tough. Muse for the rock genre, Kurt Elling for Jazz, Placido Domingo for Opera, Sara Bareilles for pop. Sorry, that’s not very quick. I told you I’m a musician.
Were laughing because we have the same problem when asked that question.
Favorite season?
Spring, did you see the sakura picture?
Favorite flower?
Peony. They are so hardy but seem so delicate.
Favorite color?
Blue, specifically the clear blue of a sunny sky.
Well that fits perfectly with spring of course.
Mug or teacup?
Mug. I’m clumsy, mugs are more sturdy than teacups.
Catherine says she understands that.
Let’s slow down now and talk about why do you like to write romance?
I think that love, specifically the love you find in your soul mate is an element that is important to most people. I firmly believe that there is someone out there destined for everyone. I like to write the happy endings everyone deserves.
We couldn’t agree more. Who is your favorite romance author?
I love Nora Roberts. She has a knack for creating rich worlds and storylines that grab me. Her books have just the right amount of steam and story.
We could go on forever talking about this but we need to wrap things up. It’s been a pleasure having you here today. As you say goodbye, can you leave the readers with an encapsulation of your life’s philosophy?
“Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.” Mother Teresa
I think this says it all. It is too easy to be uncaring of the situations around us. Support each other, love each other, and care about what happens to each other.
Now that we know a little bit about Kim here is a little bit about her book.
Blurb:
Restoration: A Golden Beach Novel
After the tragic death of her fiancé, Grace McConnell turns to the only remaining constant in her life, her work. So when she’s offered the lead position for an international restoration project, she jumps at the chance to get away from her small town, full of John’s memories.
Drew Tensley has always been a hard worker. Dedicated to his family and community, he put aside his own London career to take over the family business after his mother’s terminal diagnosis. Five years later, he’s ready to start living for himself when he literally runs into his hometown’s newest architect.
Grace quickly discovers that traveling half-way across the world was the best decision she’s ever made. Until she meets Drew, a man whose personality and lifestyle are the exact opposite of John’s, but whose face is the spitting image. Struggling with her own motivations and feelings, research uncovers secrets she isn’t ready for; secrets that could ruin her second chance for true love.
Excerpt:
Grace’s phone, practically an extra appendage by now, buzzed as she walked in to the grocery store. She perused the aisles—her focus drifting from her phone to the items in her small basket. She was so engrossed in her email, she didn’t see the tall man in the aisle she was turning down. That is, until she collided with him. With a crash, his groceries fell to the floor, creating a disastrous mess of broken eggs, spilled milk, and loose tea.
“Oh, my God!” She bent down to try and salvage the dry groceries he’d had. “I am so sorry. I’m such an idiot. Are you all right?”
“It’s my fault, really. I should’ve been watching where you were going,” he said, a smile in his voice.
“No, no. Let me pay for these,” she insisted, still not looking at him. Her eyes were focused on the mess she’d made.
Long, thin fingers reached out to still her hands. “Please stop. It’s quite all right. No harm done.”
She looked up to protest and found herself staring into eyes a familiar shade of melted chocolate, framed by dark eyebrows raised in a quizzical expression. Her heart thumped in her chest and she almost forgot to breathe.
John?
“Are you well? Miss?” the man asked.
“I … I … have to go,” she stuttered the words, barely able to form a sentence. Heart racing, she turned and ran out of the store, leaving the man with no explanation and a mess on his hands.
Valerie was waiting for her on the porch when she arrived home.
“Did you see him?” Was all she asked.
“I saw him. I saw him at the airport and now the grocery store. I think I’ve lost my mind. ”
“Who did you see?”
“J-John.”
Valerie sat in shocked silence.
“Not only did I see him, I ran into him, literally. Broke his eggs and ran away.” She felt herself spinning out of control.
“Grace.” Valerie touched her arm.
Grace stood and shook her head. “I know it’s not him, but he looks … Their eyes are exactly the same.”
Buy link for Restoration: http://amzn.com/B00VS8X28U
Kim Loraine Bio
Kim Loraine started writing at a young age, scribbling down song lyrics, short stories, and poems she was too afraid to share with anyone. Busy working as a music teacher in her Pacific Northwest hometown, it wasn’t until her family of four picked up everything and moved to beautiful Japan that she decided to finally take the plunge and send her characters out into the world.
The central theme in Kim’s books is self-discovery, whether that is found through taking risks, breaking down walls, or admitting mistakes. Kim likes to write characters that seem like ‘someone you actually know’, who find that love is a journey not without its challenges.
When not writing Kim spends her time with her husband, chasing around their crazy kids, exploring Japan, and binge-watching Doctor Who on Netflix.
Where to find Kim Loraine:
Web site: http://www.kimlorainewriter.com/
Follow me on Twitter: @kimloraine2
Facebook http://www.facebook.com/kimlorainewriter
Contact Kim at: kimlorainewriter@gmail.com
May 12, 2015
Wednesday Special Spotlight Sins of the Heart Sarah Hoss
Shines on
SINS OF THE HEART
TAG LINE- In searching for a stolen heirloom, he found something more valuable.
BLURB
Abigail Crenshaw is an antiques dealer searching for the perfect item. When she stumbles across a warriors shield at a flea market, she knows she can’t leave without it.
Grant MacFie is the Scottish Laird of Clan MacFie. When he discovers his great grandfather’s shield has been stolen, he will stop at nothing to get it back and punish the one who stole it.
Now, in America he has found the shield but discovering the truth behind who stole it and falling in love with Abigail could cost him his life. How far will he go to get the shield back?
Buy Link: http://amzn.com/B00U38ME5S
AUTHOR BIO:
Sarah Hoss grew up believing she could try anything and if she set her mind to it, she would succeed. Sixteen years of dance lessons, Cheerleading, and school plays proved to her that her parent’s words rang true. Writing was no exception. Reading the Outlander series made her fall in love with time travels and the historical places books could take her. Always a child with a vivid imagination, she realized as an adult, she could put her imagination to good use and began writing. Marrying her very own hero, they live in Indiana in the town where she grew up. They have three beautiful children and one hyper dog. When Sarah isn’t writing, she enjoys gardening, camping, and watching her kids’ play sports.
Where to find Sarah-
Website- http://www.sarahhoss.com/
Blog- http://www.heart-of-romance.blogspot.com/
Twitter- @SarahHoss1
Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sarah-Hoss/237219983049037
May 11, 2015
Tell Again Tuesday Why Fiction: History, Politics, and Real Human Costs
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
While for Donald history classes in high school were interesting, for Catherine they were a bore. However both agree if the history had been written with a little more story, rather than so much date information the classes could have been more enjoyable. Now here is a post about the very same idea.
Why Fiction: History, Politics, and Real Human Costs
May 7, 2015 by Caroline Warfield
The gradual disintegration of the Ottoman Empire underlies much unrelenting war, revolution, and vast human suffering that occurred throughout the nineteenth century. The diplomatic issues, for Britain at least, associated with that process are generally referred to as “The Eastern Question.” I stumbled into it researching my next novel. “The Eastern Question” has the dry tone of an academic thesis or the blandness of political discourse. Tidy papers drawn up by politicians in the comfort of Parisian palaces or quiet Swiss cities when the powers negotiate treaties offer cold words and no compassion. For the human story, the real human cost, we’re better off relying on novelists.
First a brief outline of the political history:
For the rest of the blog go to:
https://historyimagined.wordpress.com/2015/05/07/why-fiction-history-politics-and-real-human-costs/
May 7, 2015
Friday Feature DeAnn Smallwood Montana Man
Friday Feature
Welcomes
DeAnn Smallwood
Author of
Montana Man
DeAnn is here to share a snippet of the background for her recent book, Montana Man.
Take it away DeAnn:
I received many request after my book, Montana Star was published asking for a sequel. I was so busy writing more western historical romances, and a couple murder/suspense books, I didn’t respond as soon as I should have. Finally, here’s Montana Man, published this March, and it picks up the life of Ben, one of the main characters in Montana Star. I really enjoyed writing this book and doing the research. I’m currently writing another Montana book featuring a character in Montana Man…Montana Rose. So the beat goes on. I love writing and truly enjoy hearing from my readers.
Blurb:
Ben rose from the river, and like a dog, shook the water from his eyes. This was his third bath since he’d left Yuma Territorial Prison, and still the stench lived in his nostrils. Immersing his pain-wracked body, he reveled in the clear, cold water of the lazy moving Colorado.
Four years. Four years chained to stone floors and walls in a dark, crowded cell where daytime temperatures rose past 110 degrees. The prison, more aptly called ‘Hell Hole’, lived up to its name. He’d gone in a boy—he’d come out a man. Four years paying for a crime he didn’t commit.
Wisteria pulled on the wagon reins, her heart racing. On the rocky bank, lying on one, outstretched arm, fingers trailing in the river, was the body of a man. She jumped down from the wagon and with trepidation tried to move him, begging him to assist her.
“Can’t,” he muttered.
“Mister, I don’t know who you are, but ‘can’t’ isn’t working. Let me tell you a couple cant’s-I can’t lift you and I can’t leave you here to die.”
Excerpt:
Ben rose from the river and like a dog, shook the water from his eyes. Drops glistened on his blue-black hair, ran down his chest, and over his thin ribs. He grabbed a handful of sand and feebly scrubbed himself in an effort to wash away the prison stink. This was his third bath since he’d left Yuma Territorial Prison and still the stench lived in his nostrils. Immersing his pain wracked body, he reveled in the clear, cold water of the lazy moving Colorado. Was it his imagination, or did the water touch his feverish skin only to evaporate and rise like steam?
Four years. Four years chained to stone floors and walls, in a dark crowded cell where daytime temperatures rose past 110. The prison, more aptly called ‘Hell Hole’, lived up to its name. He’d gone in a boy; he’d come out a man. Four years paying for a crime he didn’t commit. Now, he was a taciturn, bitter soul, turned inward. Turned inward out of self-preservation, through repeated trips to the Dark Cell.
Ben fingered the raw wounds circling both wrists. He’d learned early on not to fight against the iron cuffs even when, out of perverse pleasure at inflicting pain, the guards tightened them until men fainted. He’d fainted, but he’d never begged. Not once. The last week of incarceration, he’d not only been punished unfairly by being denied food, he’d spent days and nights in leg irons so tight they’d cut grooves into his skin. His jailers laughed and bragged that Ben would carry Yuma Prison like a brand, for the rest of his life.
He glanced down at his ankles, at the wide band of oozing sores. They were infected. He blinked hazily. A raging fever grew, bent on consuming him.
A tremor rushed through him, the water cold, the memory bitter. He didn’t want to remember, but there it was, so fresh in his mind, as raw as his wrists and ankles. Four years past but still so fresh. His mind’s eye easily visualized the bar and the green boy, shot glass in hand.
He’d been drinking, but he wasn’t drunk. Ben was proud of holding his liquor. That’s what he’d told his new friends as they slapped him on the back and called for yet another round. In retrospect, he should have seen they weren’t matching him drink for drink. But, between them and the beautiful Rosita, he’d only focused on proving he was a man—downing every shot.
Held up by a ‘friend’ on either side, Ben staggered along as they left the noisy saloon and crossed the dirt street to the newly built bank. Whispering, they told him they were headed inside to play a prank on a friend, a bank teller. He’d giggled and put a finger to his lips and spit out a loud, “Shhh.” He was to wait there, and, to help make the prank more realistic, he was to take his gun out of his holster and wave it threateningly at anyone who came close. Thrilled to be part of the game, he readily agreed.
He stood alone and weaving in the street, brandishing his gun. Then a crowd gathered, hurling threats at him. A shot rang out from inside the bank. Several mounted horses burst from the building’s backside and warning shots were fired into the crowd. People ran for cover as men, their faces hidden behind bandanas, bent over horses and rode hell bent for leather out of town. They left behind an empty safe, a teller screaming, “Robbery”, and a drunken boy, grin still pasted to his face as he waved an empty pistol.
Men knocked him to the ground, his gun skittering across the packed dirt. Hands grabbed him and, before he could offer resistance, he was trussed up like a Christmas turkey. He laid there, hands bound to his legs, face in the dirt. That’s when the first kick came, followed by brutal laughter and a voice Ben would never forget.
“Hang him high and save us the trouble waiting for the circuit judge. We’re damned lucky he didn’t shoot an innocent person. Bank robber—that’s what he is. I’ll personally string the rope.” The words were accompanied by another kick hard against his ribs.
Buy link: http://amzn.com/B00TWMKA0C
AUTHOR BIO
I live in Colorado with my husband and my two Yorkie kid dogs: Stormy, four pounds, and Eli, six pounds. I’m a native of Colorado, but I lived several years in Wyoming and Montana. I draw from these beautiful states for most of my books. My Western Historical Romances are: Montana Star, Sapphire Blue, Unconquerable Callie, Wyoming Heather, One Shingle To Hang, and of course my most recent, Montana Man. Tears In The Wind is a contemporary romance. Then I branched out and wrote, under the pen name of D. M. Woods, my first suspense/thriller: Death Crosses The Finish Line. The second book in this ‘death’ series, Death Is A Habit, came out January 8, 2014. I am currently working on the third book in the ‘death’ series, Death Walks C Dock as well as another historical western. I mean it when I say my greatest pleasure next to writing is having my books read and enjoyed. There are many more stories just waiting to be written.
Where to find DeAnn:
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/deann.smallwood.1
Website http://www.deannsmallwood.com/
Amazon Author Page http://amzn.com/e/B001JS9P7Q/
May 5, 2015
Wednesday Special Spotlight SUMMER FLING by MJ Compton
Shines today on
SUMMER FLING
By
MJ Compton
Cover artist: Mina Carter
BLURB:
Caroline Maplethorpe spent a summer as plaything for a minor league baseball team…and oh, how Win Winston played. Seven years later, she’s respectable, and he’s in the big leagues. Now that he’s found her again, he still wants her in a major way. But their second-chance relationship attracts too much publicity, and the third member of their long-ago ménage threatens to destroy the respectable life Caroline so carefully reconstructed after that crazy summer.
EXCERPT:
A lone figure lurched into view, shoulders hunched against the cold. Snow swirled around him. He stood under the streetlight, looking up at me.
Win.
Our gazes met. I swallowed hard. Just like that, he knew where I lived, and that was not a good thing. He stared at me for what seemed like forever, then ambled away.
My intercom belched again. I uncurled from my perch and stumbled to the speaker. “Yes?”
“Carrie Thorpe.”
I still heard that voice in my dreams. I was going to have to speak to Win eventually. Might as well get it over with.
I buzzed him in. Then I opened the door and watched him lumber up the dimly lit stairs.
He was larger than life, filling my doorway with his height and bulk, bringing the cold and the scent of winter with him.
I didn’t offer to take his coat. “What do you want?”
His dark eyes glittered in the flickering candlelight. Flakes of snow melted in his black curls. “Carrie Thorpe.”
“There’s no such person,” I said.
“No wonder I couldn’t find you.” His deep voice rumbled through me. “I looked, you know. For years. On every form of social media I heard of. But no Carrie Thorpe ever popped up.”
“She doesn’t exist,” I repeated, not believing him.
“Caroline Maplethorpe slumming it in Cortland.” His tone was bitter.
“Caroline Maplethorpe trying not to trade in on her father’s name,” I retorted, stung by his accusation. The truth was far less dramatic.
Win still had the power to annihilate me, but I’d never let him know how vulnerable he made me. Survival. That was my priority.
“You’ve done well for yourself,” I said. I’d followed his career to the majors, his injury two seasons ago, and the subsequent surgery that led him to a rehab stint in Syracuse.
“If you mean better than Flash, then yeah.”
Flash. Jordan “Flash” Gordon. He’d introduced Win to me, in a manner of speaking.
“I got called up for three games, and you disappeared,” Win said. “I went a little crazy.”
“It was time for me to leave. College was starting. The timing had nothing to do with your getting called up.”
That was the truth. Part of it anyway.
He stared at me. Through me. He’d always been able to peer into the crevices of my soul.
“What do you want?” My voice shook.
The intensity of his gaze never wavered. “I don’t know.”
That was new. Seven years ago, Win Winston had always known what he wanted.
“I thought I wanted you, but now you’re telling me you don’t exist.”
There were many things I could have said. I could have asked if he’d never had a meaningful relationship with another woman, but that would imply he’d found our relationship meaningful. While it was certainly memorable, I doubted it had much meaning for him.
Didn’t he understand the rules? What we’d had that long-ago summer was a fling. He was a young, good-looking, up-and-coming pitcher, and I was a young, out-of-control, self-destructive girl on the run from emotions I couldn’t handle. I would have done anything to be able to feel.
I did everything I could in order to feel something. Anything.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“I’m pitching for the Saltboilers until I’m ready for the majors again.”
“I meant, why did you follow me out of the restaurant?”
“Why are you surprised I did?” he countered. “Although I guess that should tell me something.”
We stared at each other for several silent moments.
“You sent your boyfriend home,” Win finally said. His voice was husky, and his gaze flicked to my left hand. “A husband wouldn’t have left, so I know you’re not married. You should have known I’d be knocking on your door.”
I struggled for cool. A third party had never stopped him—or me—in the past. “I think you’d better leave.”
Was it the muted light, or did his expression darken? I couldn’t tell.
“I meant what I said to you that summer,” he said.
The problem was that he’d said a lot of things. We both had. I hadn’t meant much of what I’d said, and based on the facts, I’d assumed he hadn’t either. Besides, the spoken words hadn’t defined the rest of my life.
I wasn’t prepared for his hand to hover over my cheek. Heat from his palm drew my face like night-vision goggles to prey. His thumb flicked a strand of hair off my brow. When his lips brushed mine, a shock of familiarity, of yearning, bolted through me.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice a harsh rasp in the quiet of the room. “I’d better leave while I still can.”
MJ COMPTON LINKS
BUY LINK:
http://www.loose-id.com/summer-fling.html
OTHER LINKS
Website & Blog http://www.comptonplations.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/Comptonplations
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMJCompton
Tsu http://www.tsu.co/mj_compton
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8075221.M_J_Compton
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/MJ-Compton/e/B00J9DFFIG/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
