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A Moment with Margaret Taylor

Meet Kathy of Wolf’s Paradox

Yesterday, Melissa Fox and I hosted Margaret Taylor on Fight for Your Write, and she was so funny and charming that I asked her to appear here on the site today. Because she’s amazing, she agreed. Margaret did something a little different and let her main character do the talking. So, I’ll shut up and let these ladies speak.

***

So, I wasn’t sure what I would do today on Jen’s blog.

I was going to do a character interview, then I thought about doing the standard “How-Do-I” post, but frankly those have been overdone.  I also considered doing a “Let’s-Get-To-Know-The-Author”, but again, those are becoming the norm I think.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that you’d want to get to know me.  I do.  No, really, I wouldn’t kid about something like that.  But the truth is, I’m actually quite boring.  Really, I am.

I’m just your average girl, in an unusual situation.  A really, unusual situation.

Let me explain.

My name is Kathy, Kathy Granite.  Yes, like the stone.

And about six years ago, I had this weird dream.  I mean, really weird.  You know the kind I’m talking about?  The ones that are so vivid, you’ll swear on a stack of bibles six feet high, until your dying day that you were there.  In that other place and not just in the dream.  Yeah, I see you nodding over there, so you know what I’m talking about!

Anyway, the only thing I can remember about it was a Wolf.  A gorgeous Wolf too.  He was pitch black with sparkling blue eyes and he stole my heart from the moment I saw him.

Now, when I woke up, I didn’t remember anything else.  I still can’t, to this day!  And I want to.  I do.  Actually, I need too, because it’ll help solve the current crisis I’m in.  But, I can’t.  And big Wolf over there isn’t telling me either.

Oh, did I forget to introduce the hot hunk of man flesh glowering behind me?  Sorry.

Ladies, that’s Ronon Wulfdrak.  He’s the Sheriff of Jensen, South Dakota and a pain in my As…— Sorry, I don’t mean to curse, I really don’t.  But he just drives me…

Never mind.

Ronon, say Hi.

*grunt*

*sighs* See what I mean? But, he’s really a decent sort.  No, truly, he is.  When he’s not growling, grunting or just being generally irritable, I’ve heard he can actually smile!  Not that I would know, mind you.

I smile quite frequently thank you.  When you’re not getting yourself shot, stabbed, or otherwise tortured by Demons!

Ignore him please.

Anyway, where was I?  Oh, yes, the dream.  Well, that night my life really began.  Because when I woke up, tall, dark, sexy and growling over there was sitting next to me on the bed.  In the flesh!  Human flesh even and not as the Wolf I’d met in my dream!

Talk about a shocker…

But, that night spun my world on its head and now, here I am, taking a moment from trying to save the world to make a guest appearance on Jen’s site.

So, that’s my story, sort of.  There’s a lot more to it, I promise you.  I’ve been working really hard – when we’re not running from Demons and all manner of things that goes bump in the night – to get it down on paper.  However, when most of the Underworld is trying to kill you, it’s kind of hard to take time and write it all out, ya know?

And, since I’ve got to run, I’ll add in just a bit more of it below.  Just to give you some sort of idea what I’m up against…

***

{Pasted from my personal files…}

Chapter One

 

“It’s my turn!”

“No, it’s mine!”

“Now, wait just a minute.  You both said I could have her today…”

My fingers stopped on the keys and I spun my chair around glaring death rays at the three men standing behind me.  “Enough!?!”  I sighed and dropped my chin to my chest.  “I mean seriously, didn’t we work this out yesterday?”

They actually had the nerve to look shocked.

The first to respond was Tonthor.  The tall Elf blinked his shockingly light-green eyes at me and sniffed haughtily, fisting his long-fingered hands on his hips.  “Now, see here.  There is no need to be snippy.  We were just discussing…”

I held up a finger.  “No, you were arguing.”  I looked at the other two, lifting an eyebrow.  “Weren’t you?”

Cale, the half-dragon I’d met the day before blew smoke out of his nostrils.

Unfazed, I waved to dissipate the cloud.  “Weren’t you?” I said again.

Niro, one of my more frequent visitors, tried to sound appeasing.  He gave me a dashing smile, pointed teeth glittering in the morning light streaming through my floor to ceiling windows.  “Now, now Kathy, we didn’t mean anything by it.  We, just…”

I crossed my arms.  “You were just about to come to blows over who would get to talk first!  Now, I told you all how this works, didn’t I?”

“You did,” They chorused.

I tapped my foot against the faded carpet under my chair.  “Good.  And, what are the rules again?”

They spoke in unison.  “Never interrupt, never badger and never, under any circumstances, raise your voice to gain attention.”

I smiled.  “Excellent!  Now, can I get back to work please?”

Again, the three excessively handsome men spoke in one voice.  “Yes.  We’re sorry.”

“Thank you.  Apology accepted.”  I felt the need though to soothe their egos a bit.  “Niro, why don’t you take Cale into the kitchen?  I think there might be some Venison left in the fridge.”

At the mention of food, Cale licked his lips and his onyx eyes twinkled.  There, that should help distract him from the fact I was going to work with Tonthor for a while…

Once they were gone, I smiled up at the Elf then spun back to my keyboard.  “Do you remember where we were?” I asked, pulling up the word document I needed.

His hot breath fanned across my cheek as he leaned over my shoulder.  “I think I was about to fight the Lord High-Elf for control of the Western Provence…” he said helpfully.

I snapped.  “Yes, yes, thank you.”  I curled my fingers over the keys and picked up where I’d left off.

Tonthar raised his sword, was as far as I got before he interrupted.

“You misspelled my name,” he said softly.

I ground my teeth together.  “The proofreader will catch it.”  He sniffed in my ear and I paused to glare at him again.  “Rule one.”

He shrank back a bit, grimacing.  “Sorry, sorry, please do continue.”

I backspaced, just to shut him up and retyped his name. 

Tonthor raised his sword and bent his head, ready to block the incoming…

“I would never open myself like that.”

I slammed my hands on the desk, rattling books, pencils, papers and various other things I kept handy when writing.  “That’s it, out!?!?”

He straightened and crossed his arms.  “What?  I’m just trying to help, Kathy.”

I pointed toward the kitchen, where I could hear the rather noisy sounds of Cale devouring what was left of the deer I’d bought a couple of days ago.  “Out?!?”

Tonthor sniffed that haughty, Elf like sniff again and arched a perfect eyebrow at me.  “Fine,” he bit out.  “But don’t blame me when the reviews come in and they stink.”  He spun and with a rattle of chain-mail, headed off to join the other two.

Sometimes, it really sucks to be me!

I turned back to my computer, backspaced and tried it again.

Tonthor raised his sword, brow furrowed in determination…

I kept going, typing as fast as my fingers would go.  Despite the interruptions of the last ten minutes or so, I was at a crucial moment in the book and wanted to get down what Tonthor and I had discussed the night before over coffee.

You have to understand, I have a defined love/hate relationship with my current life.  I’m a writer, I’ve always been a writer.  Practically from the first time I picked up a crayon, I’ve been telling stories.  I’ve spent many years honing my craft but what I didn’t know until I was in my late 20’s was that I’m a very special writer.

Ok, hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself a bit here.  Let me just finish this off…

With one swing, he landed the death blow, forever ending the tyrannical reign of the Lord High-Elf Allu Carne Lenovo.

Alright, there.  Now I can take a minute and catch you up on how this all got started.  As I said before, I’ve always been fascinated with the written word.  Early in life, I was making up fantastical things and telling them to my friends, my family, and anyone that would listen really.

What I never said though was I could see the places I was talking about, in my head at least.  And very vividly.  From my earliest memories, I was dreaming them too.  Every night when I went to sleep, I would travel to the places I’d told people about and sometimes even take part in what was going on.

So, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when, just after my 29th birthday, I woke one night – after a particularly vivid dream – to find the man I’d seen just moments before, sitting beside me on the bed.  At first, I thought I might still be dreaming, but then he spoke and that’s when my life got really crazy.

I’ve never known, or been able to figure out, what triggered this effect, but ever since when I start a book or see a character in my head, within a day or two, he or she is usually physically standing in my living room.  I can’t explain it and I don’t know how they do it, I really don’t.  But, there they are, as real as anything else in this world.

They eat, they sleep, they watch my TV – please, don’t try and explain feminine products to a Callithan Warrior, it won’t end well! – They complain, they demand and until I get their story on paper, they just won’t leave me alone.

I tried at first, to ignore them.  I really did.  I swear.  But, I quit that little experiment when a Malkian’s Rothound ate through my carpet and the hardwood floors underneath out of sheer boredom.  I’m sure you can imagine what lie I had to tell my landlord over that one, can’t you?

Sorry, I’m digressing here.

Anyway, my life is strange in the best of times and horribly inconvenient in the worst.

I noticed things had gone quiet in the kitchen.  Saving my work to the Cloud Server, I stretched out of my chair and went to see what my three latest visitors had gotten into.

An Elf, a Half-Dragon and a Quillen Smuggler being silent is never a good thing!  Trust me on this.  I’ve learned from experience.  Any one of them alone isn’t so bad, but you get all three together, in a strange world full of new things to kill, eat, destroy, steal, whatever and the likelihood for mischief ensuing is very high.

And I wasn’t wrong.

My kitchen was empty.  The backdoor stood open and I sighed.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I headed back into my living room, scooped up my keys, a wad of cash – I was probably going to need it – and my cellphone.  Locking up the house, I headed out to my street and turned right.

Niro loved his drink, he’s quite fond of Corona for some reason, so I headed for Ketchen’s Pub and Grill on the corner.  Knowing Half-Dragon’s as I do, I figured if Niro was thirsty and Cale was still hungry, the place would satisfy both their needs.  Tonthor probably just tagged along for the ride, or the fun of it.

Again, I wasn’t wrong.

I pulled open the door bare seconds before one of my neighbors came flying out of it.  I sidestepped calmly then entered to find all three standing back to back in the middle of the room.  Surrounding them were six of the men that frequented the place.  Joe, the owner/head cook/, well, he did it all, stood behind the bar, calmly wiping down a beer mug, seemingly unconcerned with the knock-down-drag-out-brawl about to consume his establishment.

Thankful I’d brought the cash along, I strode up to the long wooden monstrosity over which I’d consumed many an alcoholic beverage over the years and slipped up on a stool.  Tapping the oak, I asked the most logical question.  “So, who started it?”

Joe, an older man who threatened to sell and retire to Florida every chance he got, pulled a draft and slid it toward me.  “Oh, don’t worry.  Your boys are innocent for once.”

I sipped from the mug and smiled at him over the rim.  “That’s good to know.  The usual rate then?”

Joe laughed, surveyed the damage already done and I knew he was calculating what was to come in his head by the shrewd narrowing of his grey eyes.  “Yeah, that should cover it.”

I dug the wad out of my back pocket, counted out a grand, laid it on the bar then turned to watch the mayhem.

Cale, with his dark hair, darker eyes and classically angular face looked ready to kill.  He was new to my world and I had no idea if he would or not, so I kept careful watch on him more than the other two.

Tonthor and Niro had been visiting me for years, on and off, so I knew they’d never actually kill a human – we’d discussed this – so I wasn’t overly concerned about them.  They were both aware of my world’s laws and what could possibly happen if they did.  Oh, they’d give the rednecks around them a good ass-whoopin’, of that I had no doubt, but they’d never do permanent damage.

Cale, well, he was still an enigma.

I briefly worried he might shift into a dragon or something, but according to him he couldn’t, he was only Half after all, so I tabled that concern for another time.

Right now, I was just going to enjoy the show…and make some notes while I was at it.  One thing I’ve always prided myself on in my writing was the level of reality I’m able put into it.  Of course, having one or more of the main characters sitting next to me helps a great deal.  There’s nothing better than the first-hand account of a story, let me tell ya!  But, sometimes they aren’t as forthcoming as I might like.

It happens more often than not with the men if you must know.  Getting them to open up about their emotions is always difficult, at first anyway.  Once they trust I’m going to do them justice, or they visit me again and find their first story has done well in my world, they tend to be a little more talkative.  But, in the beginning, it’s like pulling teeth from a Florida Gator…a really big one!

So, I was going to use this time to watch, Cale especially, and get a handle on him.  I hoped…

Before things could get started this time, the door opened again.  I couldn’t tell who it was at first, with the sun streaming in from behind, but he was definitely male and wore a very big hat.  After a moment, I recognized the shape of his body and grumbled out a curse.

The Sheriff.  Well, crap!

He strode in and from his glower, I knew this was not going to be pretty.  At all.

Not for the first time this morning, I wasn’t wrong.

He walked across the room and right up to me, ignoring the other ten men in the room.  “Figured you’d be here.”

Sheriff Ronon Wulfdrak was the most handsome man I’ve ever met.  His blue eyes sparkled all the time, whether he’s happy, sad, angry or aroused.  His square jaw, high cheeks and rugged brow never flinched, unless he was dealing with me, of course.  His wide shoulders, thick, corded arms and barrel chest filled out the uniform oh so nicely and I had to cross my legs to stop the tingle his proximity always caused.

He was also the bastard that had started the mess that was my life, the one I’d looked up at that night six years ago.  I stared now into his narrowed and yes, glittering blue eyes and lifted the mug in salute, hoping the vibration his deep baritone had sent through my chest didn’t show.  “Sheriff.  There a problem?”

His eye twitched and I knew this wasn’t good.  “You bet your happy ass there’s a problem!” he growled.

Now, when I say growled, I mean that quite literally.  You see, Ronon is a wolf.  Not a werewolf, but an honest to Gods wolf.  Or, he was in his world, before I so rudely pulled him into mine and made him human.  His words, not mine, please understand that.  But, more on him later.  For now, I set the glass on the bar again and gave him my full attention.  Which wasn’t hard, at all, he’d had it since that night six years ago.  “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

He growled, again, and his lips pinched into a hard line.  “You can come down to the jail and collect your,” he paused and huffed out a derisive snort.  “Latest victim.”

Oh good grief.  More?  Ok, something was wrong.  I usually only had one, maybe two friends, as I’d come to think of them over the years, around at any given time.  Three was a stretch for sure, but four?  I slid off the stool and waved my hands at the boys.  “Come on, back to the house…”

Everyone, including the rednecks, groaned – I think Tonthor may have even whined a bit – but they complied.  At least mine did and a few minutes later, I handed my keys to Niro, shooing them down the street.

Ronon stood next to me on the sidewalk, tapping an impatient foot while I watched to make sure the trio followed my orders.  I let him wait.  Mainly because I enjoy getting him riled up, greatly enjoy it if you must know.  Ok, getting ahead of things again.  I am sorry about that, but where the big Wolf is concerned I just can’t help myself.

Only after I heard my front door slam did I turn and give Ronon my best smile.  “After you, Sheriff.”

He huffed out another of those derisive snorts and grabbed my upper arm to guide me to the cruiser he’d parked by the curb.  He opened the door on the passenger side and none too gently shoved me toward it.

I folded in and he slammed the door, almost catching my foot.  Like I said, he’s not happy with me, hasn’t been for a long time.  I know this and deftly pulled my poor appendage out of the way before he could get it.  After we’d gotten underway, I baited him for probably the hundredth time since we’d met.  “You know…if you’d just talk to me, you could probably go back.”

***

Hi everyone.  My name is Margaret Taylor and I’m really the Author.  Kathy up there is my Heroine from my upcoming release, Wolf’s Paradox.  It’s coming in June 2013 and will be available on Amazon, B&N and all the other wonderful places there is to buy eBooks.

I thank you for joining me.  Also, thank you J & M, the wonderful ladies of Fight For Your Write, for having me yesterday. Please, show them some love!  And I truly hope you enjoyed meeting Kathy.  It was fun to let her take center stage for this…so I appreciate your patience.

margaret taylor wolf's paradox

About the Author

Margaret Taylor’s debut release Wolf’s Paradox is coming in June 2013.  She also has Prophecy of Love with Lyrical Press (Coming in Feb, 2014). She has many current projects in the works and if you ask nicely, she might be persuaded to post some tasty excerpts! *Bring Cookies as payment please!*

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The Trajectory of Dreams: A Character Profile

Welcome Nicole Wolverton, Author of The Trajectory of Dreams

To begin with, I’d like to extend the biggest of congratulations to Nicole Wolverton, whose novel The Trajectory of Dreams was released this month. Nicole agreed to stop by with a character profile, and if you know anything at all about me or my husband, you’ll understand why this particular character was chosen for this particular blog. Without further comment, I turn this space over to Nicole and Nike.

The Trajectory of Dreams for jennifermbarry

Every superhero needs a sidekick. Wonder Woman has Wonder Girl. The Tick has Arthur the Moth. And Lela White, the main character in my novel THE TRAJECTORY OF DREAMS and a hero in her own mind—has Nike. Nike is a giant, yellow cat . . . and he communicates to Lela via Morse code eye blinks.

You read that correctly. It sounds a little nutty, maybe a little satirical. It definitely doesn’t make it sound as though THE TRAJECTORY OF DREAMS is a serious book, and yet it is: it’s a fairly dark psychological thriller. Lela, though, definitely believes that Nike is her adviser. Perhaps it would be a good time to bring up the fact that Lela also has a mental disorder that leads to some fairly magical thinking, including the idea that if she breaks into the homes of astronauts to monitor their sleep patterns, she somehow keeps the space program safe.

The Trajectory of Dreams for jennifermbarryMental illness notwithstanding, most of us with pets—particularly those of us with cats—do hold a deep belief that they’re talking to us in some way. Nike is based (at least in appearance) on one of my cats, Mayor McCheese. The Mayor will look at me, and I know he’s thinking I’m a moron. And I’m fairly certain both of my cats convene while my husband and I are out and scheme to plop their butts in our faces while we sleep.

Assuming that Lela is right, and Nike serves as her Alfred (think Batman), what is Nike like? Well, he’s a cat. He’s sort of a less funny Stewie Griffin without the English accent. Nike is smart and observant, and—like all good sidekicks—he’s totally committed to Lela’s mission in life:

Nike slinked into the room and settled on the desk amid a cloud of long, shedding fur and twitched his pink nose. Nicely done, he blinked out.

“The new camera lens really helps with the low light conditions, don’t you think?” I asked.

Yes, and you were very thorough. Do you think there’s any significance to his choice of vitamins?

“I seriously doubt it,” I said. “Zinc is pretty common, particularly if he’s trying to ward off colds before the launch.”

Zinc deficiency can mean a few things. Impotence. Hair loss.

“Does it matter? It’s not any of my business whether Meehan can get an erection, and he has a full head of hair. Neither one of those things impact whether he can sleep during lift-off.”

Nike’s baleful glare made me turn away to again study the photographs I’d taken.

Would you want your cat to be your life coach? While I’m sure Mayor McCheese would have interesting things to say, I think a lot of his advice would center on feeding him more catnip. Comment below and enter the raffle for a chance to win two THE TRAJECTORY OF DREAMS cookie cutters and a beaded bookmark!

Reviews for The Trajectory of Dreams

Publishers Weekly calls THE TRAJECTORY OF DREAMS (Bitingduck Press, ISBN 9781938463440) a “skillful mainstream examination of a psychotic woman’s final descent into insanity.” The novel exposes the chaotic inner life of Lela White, a sleep lab technician and mentally ill insomniac who believes she has been tasked with protecting the safety of the revitalized U.S. space shuttle program. She breaks into the homes of astronauts to watch them sleep, and she is prepared to kill to keep those with sleep problems from the shuttle launch. Her delicate grasp on reality becomes more tenuous when annoying co-worker Trina Shook insists on moving into her house and visiting Russian cosmonaut Zory Korchagin inserts himself into Lela’s life. Korchagin’s increasing interest puts her carefully-constructed world at risk of an explosion as surely as he does his own upcoming launch. Lela’s tragic childhood unfolds throughout the novel, revealing the beginnings of her illness and long-buried secrets, and as Lela’s universe unravels, no one is safe. Buy a copy of THE TRAJECTORY OF DREAMS at your local independent bookshop, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or anywhere books are sold. a Rafflecopter giveaway

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About the Author

The Trajectory of Dreams for jennifermbarryTHE AUTHOR: Nicole Wolverton fears many things, chief amongst them that something lurks in the dark. From ghosts to stalkers, her adult and young adult fiction plays on the mundane and not-so-mundane things that frighten us all. THE TRAJECTORY OF DREAMS is her debut novel. She is a freelance writer and editor and lives in the Philadelphia area with her husband, dog, and two cats.

MORE STOPS ON THE BOOK TOUR FOR THE TRAJECTORY OF DREAMS=MORE CHANCES TO WIN!

Real Authors, Real Questions: How to Market Your Books Like a Boss

Guest post from Jasmine Henry of Inbound Marketing Agents on Fight for Your Write today.

Something like 3 million English books are released each year, despite the fact book sales have been on a steady decline since 2007. All factors equal, your book has less than a 1% chance of ever making it into a bookstore. 

Real Authors, Real Questions: How to Market Your Books Like a Boss.

Guest Post: Paranormal Romance Author Melissa Fox

Welcome One of My Favorite People in the World: Melissa Fox

It’s no secret; I adore her. With her paranormal romance debut set to release RIGHTNOW, Melissa agreed to stop by and tell a quick story. She cracks me up daily. I know she’ll make you laugh, too. Without further babbling, here’s Melissa.

Paranormal Romance debut

Oh, Behave!

Melissa Fox

The people in my head don’t listen to me.  Yeah, that sounds alarming, and believe me, it is. I’m a pantser, not a plotter, but I do usually sit down in front of my computer with some sort of plan in mind, whether a scene popped into my head in the shower, while walking the dogs, or I actually map out what I want to write and how events will unfold. I grab a drink, settle the dogs, flex the old fingers, and…start arguing.

Me: No, no, no. You’re supposed to be doing this. Remember, we talked about it? Decided this was what you’re supposed to be doing today?

Character: Pfft.

And off we go.

My naughty, really bad boy hero who is supposed to get redeemed in the end is embarrassed by the actions I have all planned out and insists he’d never do that. Uh-uh, no way. Digs his heels in, shakes his head, sets his mouth in that pretty but stubborn line, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

C’mon, I wheedle. I promise I’ll make it all better in the end.

You’re out of your mind, he responds. This will go much better if I’m nice. Then it makes what that nasty villain is planning all the more awful—what did you eat last night, by the way, to come up with that?

Sometimes I wonder.

Or my clever, sweet hero, who is supposed to be charming and amusing the heroine with witty dialog and silly antics, says: You know, I’m really in the mood to get laid. Let’s write me some sexy times.

Me: Oh, noooooo.

Him (with a wicked and completely irresistible grin): Oh, yes.

Occasionally, it’s not just scenes or events, but an entire personality and plot—and on one memorable occasion, an entire genre—they cheerfully kick to the curb. What do you mean, you want to be a demon slayer and not an investigator? Are you kidding me? A Royal Canadian Mounted Police Officer, not an FBI agent? What do I know about Mounties, for crying out loud?

Sometimes, there’s just no reasoning with them.

More from Melissa

An author’s greatest resource is their support system. Without Jen, Conor and Merry’s story might have seen the light of publication eventually, but the road would not have been anywhere near as much fun. When it came to doing a blog on release day, there’s no where else I’d rather be than with my dear friend, critique partner, cheerleader, reality checker, and talker-downer from more ledges than I care to count. Thank you to everyone who has supported and encouraged me, and thank you Jen for all the good times. Here’s to many more! Sláinte!

About Melissa Fox

After being rationed books by my parents like most kids get rationed candy, I turned to writing to tide me over between fixes. Having lived in the suburbs of the Mid-West, desert of the Southwest, foothills of the Rocky Mountains, I’m now on an island in the Puget Sound with my husband and dogs.

My debut paranormal romance, WRAITH REDEEMED, is now available in print and all e-formats from The Wild Rose Press.

Wraith Redeemed Excerpt

(This is a new one that no one else has, because I’m special.)

“God, Conor. Yes. I’ll go to dinner with you on Saturday.” He knew how his lilting brogue affected her, the bastard. “Where are we going?”

“Well, now.” He kicked back, crossing his legs at the ankles and his hands over his stomach as he regarded her with satisfaction. She fought a scowl. Somehow, he’d wrestled back control of the situation. How did he do that? “That’s a decision needing some thought now, isn’t it? Seeing as how I haven’t had time to do that as yet.”

He lifted a brow, reminding her she’d surprised him by telling him to ask her out on a date.

“I need to know what to wear.” Striving to imitate his casual insouciance, she leaned back in her chair and forced herself to leave the bottle cap on the table. He grinned, and her heart leapt into a heavy, rapid rhythm.

“As soon as I figure it out, I’ll let you know. I promise,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest. “I’ll give you plenty of time to plan your campaign, darlin’.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, not looking at him, because of course she did.

“You’re planning on making me crawl.” His smile faded and turned wry. Her gaze shot to his as an automatic protest formed on her lips, but he shook his head and sat forward. “Yes, you are, and you deserve it. I deserve it, Merry. I owe you that at least. And I’ll dance to your tune, my girl, until enough is enough, until you’ve had your due and then some, but then we’ll have our reckoning.”

“I don’t want…” Good manners and a desire to keep her plan a secret prompted the half-hearted beginning of the protest, but her innate honesty and inability to fool him won out. She chuckled. “Yes, you’re right. Seeing you crawl will do my wounded feelings some good, O’Shea.”

Buy the Book

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Blogger Book Fair: Welcome Back David Kirk!

Blogger Book Fair Features Something a Little Different with David Kirk

Dave is one of my favorite people in the world. In addition to being a fantastic author, he’s also been incredibly supportive and helpful – not to mention encouraging. His novel Particular Stones is one of the best books I read last year. Since he’s already answered my usual questions, I asked Dave to give us some insider information on his forthcoming novel Cornerstones. Because he’s a good guy, he said yes. First, let’s have a refresher on Dave and Particular Stones.

Blogger Book Fair

About David J. Kirk

David, an honorable discharged veteran of the United States Navy, earned his master’s degree in personality psychology from Rhode Island College, Providence, Rhode Island, in 1980. He worked as a counselor and a Human Resources Manager. David then became an instructor at Rasmussen College where he taught psychology and sociology for four years.

An avid writer since 16 years old, he enjoyed elective college courses in creative writing, poetry, and drama. He has written over a dozen poems and the short stories “Stranger on the Beach” and “Blue Men.” After completing Particular Stones, he is currently finishing up his most recent novel, In the Big Flood. He also enjoys vegetable gardening, fishing, book discussion, geography, science, and philosophy. He lives with his wife in Indiana; they have two children.

About Particular Stones

Bothered by nightmares regarding his beginnings and trapped in an unacceptable situation, Dan joins the Eagles, a group of similar misfits whose only connection is their assignment to the same wing of their orphanage hall.  Together, the boys at first use brute force to defend themselves against a group of bullies harassing them and fellow orphans.  After a brief period of popularity for their bravery, opposing interests in the community plot to turn public opinion against them.  The Eagles soon realize their strategy is beginning to fail.  Facing incarceration and expulsion from school, they pull a strategic retreat into the wilderness where thing are seen more clearly.  Realizing a more rational plan, redemption begins to unfold.

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Amazon | Martin Sisters Publishing | Smashwords | Barnes and Noble

 

And Now for the (Other) Good Stuff

Dave is currently putting the finishing touches on his next novel, Cornerstones. I asked him for a sneak peek, and he said “Sure!” Instead of an excerpt, because the man does like his secrets, he sent a special message full of insight, just like the Dave himself. In his words:

I am the author of Particular Stones (Martin Sisters Publishing, 2011) and its sequel Cornerstones.  While the books have different plots, they are about the same things.  The stories take place in a futuristic, post-apocalyptic world, but readers may not be familiar with the type of apocalypse.  There are no flying cars, radiation diseased zombies, or death ray machines about.  The dystopia here is an exaggeration of what I feel is wrong with civilization today.

            I can almost summarize reviews with “This is a story about some orphan boys who band together to fight the bad guys.”  While this is basically true, they about so much more.  The Stones stories are about:

  • Family.  And what better way to explore the functions and rolls than with a group of young people without biological parents to show how these are formed.
  • Spirituality. We appear to be in two camps today:  faith and science.  Also, purists on each side claim that belief in one excludes belief in the other.  I attempt to show that both not only can work together but must.
  • Personal responsibility. Can we blame our shortcomings solely on genetics?
  • Champions. In regard to the latest Nobel Prize winner, Miss America, and Super Bowl champs, one of my characters put it best with “why do we celebrate a status that ninety nine percent of the population will never reach?”
  • Progress. I’m all for it, but what were we doing right before that for some reason we stopped doing?

I invite all types of readers to enjoy the Stones stories, but particularly those close readers.  I hope you will sit back and consider my different way of looking at things.

 

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(Photo by Nicole Ruby, used by permission, all rights reserved)

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Dave is giving away Particular Stones on Goodreads. All you have to do is go sign up and keep your fingers crossed!

Blogger Book Fair: Welcome Dan O’Brien

Blogger Book Fair Marches On with Dan O’Brien

The next brave, brave man to be featured here on my super-pink site is Dan O’Brien, author of The Path of the Fallen. This super-good sport (and apparently sport-lover, if his blog is evidence) has gamely answered my usual questions and provided an excerpt for your reading pleasure. Take a look and then make use of all the social media links to keep an eye on his future projects. It’s my turn to shut up and Dan’s turn to talk.

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About Dan O’Brien

I have been writing novels for over a decade and had a couple published by traditional, small houses. Riding the self-publishing boom, I have four books in print that are available in paperback or e-book format. If you are interested in reading them, I am always open to sending out samples (or PDFs) to those who are interested.

I was born on the east coast and spent most of my life moving around. I recently settled into California where I am a graduate student in Experimental Psychology. I was a fitness trainer and am a lifelong student of martial arts. I write a little bit of everything and have lately been focusing on a few new novels, continuing some series and embarking on a screenplay binge.

Hope to hear from other avid readers and novelists out there.

Interview

As my husband always says, “What’s your book about?”

It is about a young man who learns what it takes to be a hero.

Do you remember the first thing you ever wrote?  Can you tell us about it?

I wrote a play for my cousin when I was 6 or 7. I don’t recall what it was about, but I do remember creating little characters on Popsicle sticks.

Do you prefer plaid or stripes?

Plaid.

Was choosing to publish independently something you always wanted, or an option you hadn’t considered before?

I started out in traditional publishing and transitioned to independent publishing because of the flexibility.

Are you working on anything new at the moment?

Always. Sequels, new novels, you name it.

Do you have any rituals before writing?  Music or silence?  Coffee or tea?  Twizzlers or M&Ms?

Music. Tea. Chocolate.

Have you ever based a character on someone you know?

I have an entire novella based on people I know….

What color is your umbrella?

Black.

Who is your favorite author and why?

Hemmingway because, well, he was Hemmingway.

What was the last book you read?

Dance of Dragons by George. R. R. Martin

Do you write about locations you’ve visited, or do you rely on research?  Or do you make up entire settings in your head?

A little of both. The Lauren Westlake mysteries are set in places I have lived, but I love to do some research as well for the details.

After the last word is written, then what?  Do you have pre-readers and editors who take over?  Do you begin query letters immediately?

I generally have some beta readers, a laundry list of marketing points, and the broad strokes of a publishing plan.

What song would be on the soundtrack for your book?

“Numb” by Linkin Park

Where can people find your book?

Wherever books are sold. It is available as an e-book and in print.

Can we read a little excerpt?

You absolutely can.

Leane rose from her seat with a startling quickness. She was upon the inebriated Fredrick with three long steps, her hand slapping him before he could utter another word. The sting drew a rueful look from the childish Fredrick.

“You will never speak of Ry––Fe’rein like that,” snarled Leane; her true words almost revealed. She recovered and drew back. Her hands disappeared into the folds of her layered dress once more. The darkened shawl around her shoulders made it so only her face and hair were visible.

“But you hate him.”

The slap came again, this time with renewed force. Fredrick’s eyes were glassy as a flush faded over his cheeks. He looked at Leane with wide eyes.

Leane watched him with a hawk-like gaze. Her sharp eyes dared him to speak again. “You will do well to remember your words here, Fredrick. Your opinions would be best kept to yourself.” Her breathing slowed as she fought to regain her calm.

Fredrick looked from E’Malkai to the others, and then bowed awkwardly. His arms were plastered along his sides, his voice wavering as he spoke. “Pardon my drunkenness, Leane ilsen. I knew not what I spoke. Please allow me to retire to my personal residence.”

Leane nodded as Fredrick passed. He flashed a beleaguered grimace to each individual who he passed and disappeared out the door.

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About The Path of the Fallen

The world is broken. The coming of the Intelligence pushed the remnants of humanity deep into the tundra. What remained was a vast sea of ice and the machine city, Culouth. E’Malkai Armen, descendent of the Fallen, has been a citizen of Culouth his entire life. A bitter betrayal, and the inception of a war that will destroy millions of lives, forces E’Malkai to confront the past and undertake a pilgrimage that is his by birthright. As he travels to the cold tundra of the north, the realm prepares for war. The Path of the Fallen is a lonely and arduous path, but it must be walked for the sake of all mankind.

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Blogger Book Fair: Welcome Michael Cargill

Blogger Book Fair Continues with Author Michael Cargill

I’m always so thrilled to host writers of the male sort, especially because they look so handsome surrounded by all this pink. Michael Cargill is the first of three manly men unintimidated by my site’s girly colors. He brings us a book of short stories called Shades of Grey, which he promises “…has nothing to do with that grotty erotica trilogy of the same name.” How I love a man with a sense of humor, and Michael has plenty of wit to spare. Sit back and enjoy the interview and two excerpts from his book.

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About Michael Cargill

I’m an author who lives in the sunny, green hills of England. As you can see in the photo, I’m mostly bald.

Over the years people had often said that I should write a book so, in mid 2011, I did just that! Anyone wondering which book of mine to read first should start with Shelter from Thunder. ‘Tis short and available for free.

Feedback of any kind is always welcome.

Interview

As my husband always says, “What’s your book about?”

It’s actually a collection of three short stories, but I guess ‘the threat of death’ is an overriding theme running through each of them.  Some of the characters are aware of the threat, some of them see it as just part of their lives, whilst others have no idea it is even there.

Do you remember the first thing you ever wrote?  Can you tell us about it?

I vaguely remember writing a story in school when I was about ten years old.  I don’t remember much about it, but for some reason she was having a really bad day where she kept forgetting her keys and so had to spend a lot of time on the bus trying to find where she left them.

Do you prefer plaid or stripes?

Ha!  I had to look up what ‘plaid’ was, as we refer to it as being ‘checked’ over her in Britain Land.

I reckon I would go for stripes, especially if they were the slimming kind.  After all, everyone likes a good pin-striped suit (unless you sell checked suits, of course.)

Was choosing to publish independently something you always wanted, or an option you hadn’t considered before?

Erm, it was more that it was just about the only option available to me!  Clicking that ‘go live’ button the first time was a nerve wracking experience, and the thought of sitting through umpteen bajillion meetings with a publisher was far too intimidating for my feeble mind.

Are you working on anything new at the moment?

Yes!  It’s a YA tragedy story, and I’m in the editing stages as we speak.  I’m at that point where I’m utterly sick of the bloody thing, and can’t wait until I’m finally free of it!

Do you have any rituals before writing?  Music or silence?  Coffee or tea?  Twizzlers or M&Ms?

Not really.  I have to close my browser window down, otherwise I get distracted too easily.  The tea or coffee question ultimately rests on which one is closest at the time.

Have you ever based a character on someone you know?

Yes, several in fact, though not usually the main character.  Most of the time they’ll just have parts of that person’s personality, and even then it’s something I only really think about when I’m trying to think of a name for them.

What color is your umbrella?

I don’t have one, they’re annoying and I just end up borrowing other people’s.  I guess I’m like those ‘social smokers’ who steal everyone else’s cigarettes when they go to the pub.

Who is your favorite author and why?

Stephen King, ‘cos his stories are bloody marvelous.  It’s hard to say exactly why, but the most memorable aspects of his stories tend to be the characters.  If you get those right, then everything else tends to slip into place.

What was the last book you read?

Just this morning I finished reading Mockingjay, the final book in The Hunger Games trilogy.  I thought it was the worst of the lot.

Do you write about locations you’ve visited, or do you rely on research?  Or do you make up entire settings in your head?

A bit of a mixture to be honest.  I’ll imagine somewhere familiar, like a friend’s back garden, but then bosh in an extra detail such as a bomb crater, dragon, or a headless corpse, as and when it is required.

The Internet makes research very quick and easy for things like historical fiction.

After the last word is written, then what?  Do you have pre-readers and editors who take over?  Do you begin query letters immediately?

Once I’ve finished, I’ll take a few days break to stop myself slitting my wrists.  Then I’ll do a pass of editing, and try to stop myself slitting my wrists.  Then I’ll do a couple more passes of editing, whilst again stopping myself from slitting my wrists.

Then I send it off to some proof readers and spend the next week or so clenching my buttock in nervous anticipation whilst also fighting off the temptation to slit my wrists.

What song would be on the soundtrack for your book?

Hmmm.  Firestarter by The Prodigy most likely.

Where can people find your book?

Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Sony store, and Smashwords!

Can we read a little excerpt?

No, it’s a secret.

Oh, okay then.  Here are excerpts from the first two stories in the collection:

Talking of grunting, that is exactly what I did when I grabbed the edge of the mattress and yanked it out from underneath my wife and neighbour’s naked bodies. They both fell off the bed, and onto the floor, in a tangled mess of arms and legs, of tits and testicles. She must have got elbowed or something because her nose was bleeding. She later blamed that nosebleed on me, which was nothing short of outrageous and hilarious. I kindly offered to give her another one.

***

Dazed and bewildered, James staggered out from under the pile of earth. For a moment he couldn’t even breathe, and he spat out as much of the mud as he could. Artillery shells whooshed over his head and explosions filled the world. He felt completely disorientated and everywhere he looked, he saw the same thing. Columns of mud and earth were shooting up into the air, and it was like running through a forest of living trees. Someone grabbed him and helped him stumble his way back to the safety of the trench. They passed another soldier lying motionless on the ground, his left leg missing completely. James was still too stunned to properly acknowledge this grim sight, but he would later look back on that moment as his first proper exposure to the cruelties of war.

About Shades of Grey

John is not a very nice man. He works for the government. So who has tied him to a chair and what do they want? James is a British soldier during WWII. Tom is a young boy with a terrible secret

Three stories. Three very different people. All of them battling to survive.

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Blogger Book Fair: Welcome Kimberly Gould

Blogger Book Fair Continues with Kimberly Gould, Fellow Martin Sisters Publishing Author

I was lucky enough to be one of the first readers of Kimberly’s debut novel, Cargon: Honour & Privilege, a Young Adult dystopian novel unlike any other out there. Cargon, a game where social status is gambled away like pennies, is the central feature of the book, but the real star is her heroine. She’s just released the follow-up Cargon: Duty & Sacrifice, and I can’t wait to see what happens to Eve.

Kimberly gamely answered my usual questions, so take a moment to meet and greet, and then enjoy the excerpt.

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About Kimberly Gould

Oldest of three girls, raised in a small city surrounded by family, Kimberly was well acquainted with her imagination and started writing novellas in High School. She took a break while attending University, but returned to it soon after the birth of her daughter late in 2006. She has been married for 12 years, a mother for 5 and a published author for 1. She is looking forward to her future releases and new ideas.

Interview

As my husband always says, “What’s your book about?”

A servant turned princess who is enlightening a second age.

Was choosing to publish independently something you always wanted, or an option you hadn’t considered before?

I started out looking for an agent the traditional way. A writing friend suggested an indie publisher and they were my first yes.

Are you working on anything new at the moment?

I have an erotic penname and most of my WIP are part of her body. I am brewing a third Cargon book and have two other YA manuscripts in various states of completion.

Have you ever based a character on someone you know?

Not more than looks. George looks like my Dad, Adam looks like my cousin, things like that.

What color is your umbrella?

Black.

Who is your favorite character and why?

Bianca is probably my favourite character. She’s smart and fun at the same time. She’s a mother, but she doesn’t smother. She is a leader, but she’s willing to be proven wrong.

What was the last book you read?

A Memory of Light, the last Wheel of Time book.

Do you write about locations you’ve visited, or do you rely on research?  Or do you make up entire settings in your head?

I like making places up, part of the reason I write fantasy. Other than that, I usually write about places I’ve never visited, but that I imagine as ‘cities’ and therefore, at the core, similar to where I live. They all have neighbourhoods and shopping districts, a downtown. If I need particulars, Google maps is usually all I need.

After the last word is written, then what?  Do you have pre-readers and editors who take over?  Do you begin query letters immediately?

The first book, I didn’t have pre-reader, and when the edits came back with very small suggestions, I thought that was good. Upon rereading my first manuscript, however, I wish I’d gotten more people to read it. Now I have everything read AT LEAST twice before submitting. Usually I can find 3-5 people to pre-read. So far, almost everything comes back with superficial edits.

What song would be on the soundtrack for your book?

Something orchestral, with a good bit of winds to give it a haunting feeling, like you can see the ghosts of the fall waiting to be rediscovered.

Where can people find your book?

Martin Sisters Publishing has links to all the different formats, so it is easiest to go there. There is a link to Honour and Privilege on that page as well. Here is the link for Thickness of Blood (not YA).

Can we read a little excerpt?

Of course:

Her meeting with Vanto Albert was to discuss her plans to travel to Augustia and assist the neighbour with an internal conflict. Trade with Augustia had failed in recent months when the common class had risen up against their elite. The lapse in trade had disrupted Fontive although some goods were still coming through—only as much as the commoners allowed.  The Ambassadorial Vanto continued to encourage her to make the trip.

“Suggesting raising commoners to the elite should come from a person of high standing, a Vanto at the least. Also, I believe you will be perfectly equipped to deal with any questions regarding cross-class relations, don’t you?”

Eve had to chuckle at her uncle, Bianca’s brother in law. As the first and only servant to be raised to the elite, it did make sense to send Eve. “I expect I am,” she agreed. By playing and winning Cargon, the game ranking elite in Fontive, Eve had made the unprecedented shift.

“Well, let’s prepare you for it then.” Albert scratched at his short brown beard for a moment. “Eric is High One in Augustia, with his wife, Rosa, as second.” He presented her with a list of the highest elite and their portfolios, which they reviewed together.

“Ducat and Ducati are called Ambo and Amba in Augustia,” Albert explained. “Clarence,” Fontive’s Ducat of Augustia, “will of course answer to both, but you would confuse others there.”

Eve nodded, thinking she would most likely confuse herself. She should be able to mingle with the Vanto and Vinca, avoiding any misnomers. She read the list over again but was interrupted when Albert began discussing some of the differences between the cultures of the two kingdoms. “They do not rank themselves by Cargon.”

“What?” Her voice seemed to squeak in her own over-sensitive ears, making her cringe. Cargon was rule, it was law, it was…

“They pass rank through heredity, as we do when no one wagers,” Albert explained, placing a hand on her shoulder. She must seem very disturbed for him to touch her. Physical contact was strictly proscribed among the elite in Fontive.

Albert pulled his hand back, using the action for another example. “They are also less reserved about contact. You may see open displays of affection.” He said it with distaste, but Eve merely nodded. Although she had seen none since being raised, servants showed affection quite often. It wasn’t something that bothered her as it would one born into the elite.

“That isn’t a problem for me,” she explained. “Servants show affection when they aren’t on duty.”

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About Cargon: Duty & Sacrifice

In a post-apocalyptic world, Eve has discovered power of more than one nature. In Honour and Privilege, Eve became heir to the throne. In Duty and Sacrifice, she explores and defines the power of the elite. At the same time, electricity is being harnessed for the first time in centuries, providing the first glimpse into the ancient people who left the world as it exists. The horror of this revelation could shake their society as much or more than a servant becoming monarch.

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You know the drill. Follow the Rafflecopter link and do what it says – a Rafflecopter giveaway

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