Authorsday: Barbara Meyers

1.      What was the best writing advice someone gave you?

Last year a multi-published author critiqued a draft of A Forever Kind of Guy for me.  She read a hundred pages and said there was no reason for her to read further because my characters had no goals.  She went into a lengthy explanation of what I needed to change.  As long as I’ve been writing, I should have understood this better, but I was slow to catch on.  I read Debra Dixon’s Goal, Motivation, & Conflict and referred to it repeatedly while I was revising the manuscript.  This author gave me the slap in the face I needed to figure out what wasn’t working in my manuscripts.  I will be forever grateful to her.

2.      Why did you pick the publisher that ultimately published your book?

I had a not-so-great experience publishing two books with a small press early in my career after which I had a long dry spell of having nothing published.  Some agents gave me decent feedback, but none would take me on as a client.  It’s extremely difficult to get your foot in the door with traditional print publishers without an agent.  I read about Samhain Publishing in the Romance Writer’s Report (Romance Writers of America’s monthly magazine).  I sent the complete manuscript of A Month From Miami to them.  I heard back within a matter of weeks.  They wanted it!  My editor did nothing but make my book better.  I also had input on the cover.  It was a great experience.  Even though there have been a couple of bumps in the road since, I am thrilled to be working with a new editor and I’m excited Samhain is releasing A Forever Kind of Guy, which is the second in The Braddock Brotherhood series.

3.      If you could ask your readers one question, what would it be?

What do you want from an author?

4.      If you have a day job, what is it?

I’m a shift supervisor at a Starbucks a half mile from my house.  I’ve been working there for eight years and I love it.

5.      What do you consider your strengths in terms of your writing?

I like to think characterization is my strength.  I’ve also been told I write love scenes particularly well.

6.      What do you consider your weakness and what strategies do you use to overcome it?

In terms of writing, I think one of my biggest weaknesses is description.  I personally don’t like tons of detail when I read.  I think it slows the pace and I often skip it to get to the good stuff where something’s actually happening or there’s dialogue.  I’m never sure if the description I do incorporate is enough for the readers.  I try to overcome it by using scene-setting words as opposed to actual description:  “To the left lay a great room where logs burned in a huge stone fireplace.  She had no time to absorb more about the interior or furnishings than the impression of tweed, leather and wood.  Ian Rutherford’s home emanated warmth in a way the man himself did not.”  --Not Quite Heaven

7.      What’s your writing schedule?

If I am not working at Starbucks, I am home doing something writing-related.  I’ve become a workaholic.  Writing is my full-time job.  I don’t have a schedule per se, because my Starbucks schedule varies from week to week.  I prefer to write in the morning, and if I have a day off, I will start fairly early and I may spend an entire day “creating.”  There’s a lot more that goes into a writer’s life than simply writing books, and it can be extremely time-consuming.  While you’re working on one book, you might be editing another, promoting a recent release, sketching out ideas for another book, doing guest blogs, etc.  It’s a lot.

8.      What’s your favorite quote?

“Ask and you shall receive.  Seek and you shall find.  Knock and the door shall be opened to you."  –Matthew 7:7

9.      Who is your greatest cheerleader?

My husband is like my silent cheerleader, because he’s been unbelievably supportive the entire time I’ve been writing although he’s never read a word I’ve written.  But when you use the term “cheerleader” it’s my friend Sandy who is always encouraging me and telling me how impressed she is with my efforts and is always interested in my progress.  I don’t know what I’d do without her.

10.  Where do you write?

I used to write on a desktop computer in our home office or on my laptop at the kitchen table, but since my husband retired and he’s home all the time I’ve taken refuge in our bedroom.  Even though I have a desk I write sitting in bed with pillows propped behind me and my laptop on a flat shelf in front of me.  I spend a lot of time in bed.  Must be why I’m so good at writing love scenes. J

Blurb:

First on Hayley Christopher’s list to get her train-wreck life back on track: stay away from men. Especially the ones who cause a ripple effect of bad decisions.

Still reeling from a high-profile divorce, the college dropout and former pro cheerleader is stumbling through yet another challenge—temporary custody of her nephew, Fletcher. No one knows better than Hayley that she’s not mother material. When she opens the door to her new landlord and old flame, she wonders just how many more past mistakes she is destined to pay for.

After the death of his wife, Ray Braddock is still putting the pieces back together. Hayley—and the silent little boy at her side—both bristle with emotional barriers so high, it appears no one but him can see that together, three broken people just might make a whole family.

As she watches Fletcher respond to Ray’s patient care, Hayley’s determination to hold on to her heart begins to soften. But just when she begins to think that Ray is one opportunity she shouldn’t let slip by, Fletcher’s gang-connected father threatens to make her pay for the one good choice she ever made…

Author Bio: 

When not writing fiction, Dr. Seuss-like poetry or song lyrics, Barbara Meyers can be found at the local Starbucks culling story ideas from customers while masquerading as a shift supervisor.  A native of Southwest Missouri, Meyers has called Southwest Florida home for more than thirty years. Her hobbies include tormenting her long-suffering husband, interfering in the lives of her grown children, sneaking into gated communities to walk her almost perfect dog and long bicycle rides which function as both exercise and meditation time.

All for Spilled Blood by R. Ann Siracusa

ALL FOR SPILLED BLOOD

By

R. Ann Siracusa

Fourth novel in the humorous Romantic Suspense series

Tour Director Extraordinaire

Sapphire Blue Publishing

COVER BLURB

Harriet Ruby, tour director extraordinaire, and her fiancé and favorite spy, Will Talbot, travel to Russia undercover as tour directors for the US delegation to an international youth conference.  Harriet tackles her first covert assignment to investigate smuggled artwork while Will’s mission is to locate and destroy a group of terrorists recruiting young computer experts.

Their marriage plans hit a snag when Will locates a long-lost cousin with startling news about his heritage.  When the artwork being smuggled has particular significance to one of the terrorist sympathizers, their missions entangle and begin to unravel, leaving Will at the mercy of terrorist kidnappers and Harriet holding the bag.

EXCERPT

As we kissed, he lifted my sweater and ran his hand up my rib cage.  “You came prepared.”

“No point in wasting time.  First one naked gets to be on top.”

He let me go, but kept his hands on my arms.  “Not so fast.  I have to secure the door.”  Still holding one of my wrists, he clicked all his spy locks into place.  “Besides, we’re not in a hurry.”

“We’re not?  What’s changed?”  Usually we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

“Nothing, except this could be our last uninterrupted time together for a while.  I want to take it slow.”  I hadn’t seen that coming, but he gave me a kiss that sent me reeling.  I knew he meant business, no matter how long it took.  “Besides, I have something for you.”

He detached himself and went into the bathroom.  I had something for him, too.  I’d stripped down to my thong when he returned carrying a small container like a miniscule ice chest.

I hesitated, scrutinizing it with a frown.  “What’s that?  It looks like one of those sterile containers for transporting medical supplies.”

“You’re close.  It’s the refrigerated version for transporting donor organs.”  He set it on the table.  With great ceremony he went about unlocking it and popped open the lid.  “Take a look.”

Donor organs?  Oh boy.  I hesitated and did a nose wrinkle.  I hoped it didn’t contain body parts.  Ice cream would be good, though.  I gathered my courage and peered inside.

“Bubble wrap?”  I’d expected to see ice.  At least a frozen cooler pack.

“Open it.”

While I had no desire to do that, I didn’t want to appear ungrateful.  I lifted out the wrapped objects and unwound them from the plastic.  My eyes widened.

“Reddi-wip and chocolate syrup?  Yum.  My favorites.”  I licked my lips.  “Where did these come from?”

He had already kicked off his shoes and unzipped his slacks.  “For me to know and for you to enjoy.”

He moved so slowly, I began to fumble with the buttons on his shirt, just to hurry things along.  “C’mon, tell me.”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m going to do with it?”

“I already have a pretty good idea what.”  I shoved off his shirt and ran my fingers through the fine hairs on his chest, then ran my tongue around one of his nipples.  His muscles bunched under my touch and he shuddered.  “I also know you can’t buy aerosol cans of whipped cream in Russia, and you didn’t bring it with you last night.  How did you get it?”

He grinned and kicked off the pants from around his ankles.  His undershorts followed.  “I severely abused my authority, I’m afraid.”

Trepidation skittered through me, and my heart skipped a beat.  “You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?”

“No, at least not before we use them.”  He picked up the can, squirted me on the chest, then scooped me into his arms and licked the whipped cream off my breast.  “This may get messy.”

My wiggling out of his arms smeared both of us with whipped cream.  “You only get one taste until you tell me.”

He pulled me into his embrace.  “The Air Force transported it in.  Before I left, I flashed my credentials, gave them a story about an organ exchange as part of my top secret mission, and here it is.  Just in time for the operation.”  He let me go, grabbed up the can, and squirted me again, lower this time.  “I know how much you like it.”

I stood there, dripping whipped cream onto the carpet, and gaped at him.  “You did that for me?  Are you sweet, or what?”

“Not as sweet as I’m going to be.  Ready?”

Was I ever.  Chocolate and whipped cream are my best colors.

ExcerpTuesday: Me!

Today you get to read an excerpt of my latest: A View to a Kilt.

Waking up next to a dead guy can ruin your whole day. When a wise-cracking interior decorator wants to put her past behind her, the dead body of the mayor’s son makes her realize that won’t happen too easily. A conservative former computer geek for the FBI is holding on too tightly to his past. His wife died under suspicious circumstances and he believes the decorator has the information to solve the case. Unfortunately for him, she isn’t speaking until a series of events convinces her she needs protection especially when her biggest secret threatens to destroy both of their lives.

Excerpt:

Waking up next to a dead guy can ruin your whole day.

At least interior decorator Miriam Stokes’ thought so.

The Philadelphia Police Detective whose name she couldn’t remember talked soothingly to her, making her feel, not better, but at least calmer.

As calm as anyone could feel after finding a dead body. How did she get herself into these things?

Sipping coffee Miriam didn’t remember asking for, she eyed the cop as they sat in a flowered living room. The owner of said living rooms was a neighbor of Miriam’s friend Joe.

The friend she just found dead.

She tried to keep eye contact with Detective . . . Dasher? She knew his name was a reindeer.

Her vision was only just returning to normal.

“So you woke up and he was dead.  Didn’t you hear a shot?” The cop asked.

After swallowing the scalding liquid, she answered him. “No detective.  I do sleep very soundly, but I think I had help from this bump on the side of my head.”

To indicate the reason, she pulled away the bag of ice that had appeared sometime after the first patrolman. The lump began to throb, but he only glanced at her head. He scribbled some notes in a small pad.

How many murders does one have to see to get so matter-of-fact about it? Miriam shuddered.

“Would it be possible for me to at least get dressed? I feel a little vulnerable in my pajamas,” she told him.

Donner, that was name. He looked her over as if making a decision. He nodded, glancing around the apartment. “Do you have any clothes?”

She nodded towards Joe’s apartment.

“When they remove  . . . ” he murmured, then grimaced. She caught his meaning.

He turned his brown eyes back to her. “We’ll work it out. I just have a few more questions for you. Then we’ll go downtown.”

Miriam nodded. Who would do this to Joe?

“How long have you known the deceased?” Donner asked.

She let the hand holding the ice fall while the other hand rested her coffee on the table. She massaged her right temple. The hushed voices of cops in the hallway wafted past her. She wondered of she would ever get the blood smell out of her nose.

“Five years,” she murmured. She blinked then stared past the detective.

“Ms. Stokes?” He came into her view and she shook her head. “I think we need to finish this downtown. They’re going to take the deceased away.”

Downtown?

Authorsday: Wendy Soliman

Wendy Soliman was brought up on the Isle of Wight in southern England but now divides her time between Andorra and west Florida. She lives with her husband Andre and a rescued dog of indeterminate pedigree. When not writing she enjoys reading other people’s work, walking for miles with her dog, drinking good wine and generally making the most out of life.

http://www.wendysoliman.com

http://www.wsoliman.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wendy.soliman.author?ref=ts

Blog: http://wendysoliman.blogspot.com/

A Class Apart

Lady Octavia Radleigh is devastated when Radleigh Manor, her ancestral home, falls victim to her grandfather’s crippling debts. Jake Bentley, boy made good from the East End of London plans to buy Radleigh to prove to the world that he’s made it but reckons without Octavia, who’s determined to turn it into an upmarket hotel to attract American tourists. Now all she has to do is persuade Jake to finance her crazy scheme…

A Class Apart by Wendy Soliman from SirenBookStrand or Amazon.com September 2011

How long have you been writing?

I wrote my first novel when I was fifteen, so I guess I’ve always been drawn to words. I certainly live in a fantasy world most of the time! I wrote a second book when I was in my twenties and, no, I’m not telling you how long ago that was. It was just a long time, okay! Anyway, I took it up seriously about eight years ago when the circumstances in my life changed and I had the time for it. Incidentally, my third published book was based around the plot for the one I wrote in my twenties. Moral of the story: never throw anything away.

Do you plot or write by the seat of your pants?

Both. When I’m writing historicals or even contemporary romance I tend to start with a premise – a what if – and let the characters run with it. It’s amazing what they get up to and where they take me. For my series of marine crime novels that I’m writing for Carina Press I do need to do an outline and a lot more research but I never stick to it. My tendency to let the characters sort out their own messes is too deeply entrenched, I guess.

Tell me one thing about yourself which few other people know.

Well, I’m told I come across as confident but, let me tell you, my self-esteem is just about zero. Getting published was one of the few achievements that made me feel good about myself. It continues to do so every time another book gets accepted.

Describe your book

My first five books were all Regencies. I guess coming from the Isle of Wight, with all those historical buildings littering the landscape, a sense of history seeped into me like osmosis. As I gained in confidence I decided to try something different and a ‘modern’ historical seemed like the logical step. England is still full of aristocrats but not all of them are as wealthy as they once were. What if a titled lady discovered that her ancestral home had to be sold and that a self-made upstart from the East End of London wanted to buy it to prove to the world that he’d made it? That’s the basis of A Class Apart.

What drew you to the subject of your novel, A Class Apart?

The class society in England fascinates me, especially the way the aristocracy it being forced by circumstances and society to adapt to the modern world. Even the Queen pays income tax nowadays – shock, horror! Unlike the Regency period that I first wrote about, modern Britain doesn’t turn its nose up at business men, especially successful ones, but it’s a concept  that my heroine Octavia in A Class Apart finds hard to accept. Game on!

Did you encounter any obstacles in researching it?

Not really. I learned a hard lesson when my first book was published. Part of it was set in Alexandria, Egypt two hundred years ago. I diligently researched the period to death and proudly put a lot of my findings into the novel, just to prove I knew what I was talking about. My editor put a red pen through the lot of it, telling me to cut most if not all. This is a novel, Wendy, not a history lesson. You’ll bore your readers. It was a bitter pill to swallow but I took the advice on board, mainly because I could see it was right, and now only do enough research for authenticity.

Where do you write?

We’re fortunate enough to divide our time between Andorra, a small principality high up in the Pyrenees mountains between France and Spain and west Florida. In Andorra, where I am at the moment, I have a tiny desk in my own room where I beaver away. In Florida we’re in the process of creating a study with fitted floor to ceiling bookshelves for my tomes. My dream come true!

What’s the name of the first novel you wrote? Did you try to publish it?

Can’t remember the names of the books I wrote when I was a kid, (which is probably a good thing!). The first one I wrote when I took it up seriously eight years back was Lady Hartley’s Inheritance – yes, the one that had the setting in Alexandria! – and it was published by Robert Hale in England, as were the next four.

If you could ask readers one question what would it be?

What attracts you to a particular book? Do you indeed judge it by its cover? Is your interest piqued through blogs, review sites, promotion of any sort? Do you always favour a particular genre or take pot luck?

What next in your writing career?

I’m now a split personality. I write historical and contemporary romance as Wendy Soliman and marine crime mysteries from Carina Press as W. Soliman. I have six titles coming out in the latter half of this year so check both my websites for more information.

Thanks for having me here. It’s been a blast.

ExcerpTuesday: Jenn Nixon

Blurb & Excerpt from Chance of a Storm, the sequel: Wild & Wicked


Mason Storm waited three agonizing months to hear from the wild Veronica Chance after she walked out of his life and back to her world. Instead her sister calls, sobbing, and begs him to come to California . He drops everything and takes the first plane across the country to find out what happened. After a chilly welcome from General Michael Chance, Mason learns Veronica was kidnapped along with her mother who is still being held hostage. Their initial meeting is short, but Veronica is determined to get her mother back safely and asks for Mason's help knowing he can get the job done. He's eager to get involved and carefully navigates his way into the investigation while trying to figure out exactly where in stands in Veronica's eyes.

Keeping her focus off of Mason Storm grew harder each moment she breathed the same air as him. He constantly watched her. Pondering eyes studying every word, facial expression, and body movement she made. Feeling his arms around her once again threatened to drive the last bit of sanity from her mind. Veronica wanted to get swept away by the man. Spiral into the madness of lust with someone who already revved up her engine like no other man had.

 

     Veronica couldn’t afford madness now as much as it killed her.

 

     Her father continued his retreat into the house, up to the second floor, closing in on his library. She wouldn’t let him get away that easily. “You can’t give them that file and you know it.”

 

     “Then you condemn your mother to death.”

 

    “They’re playing the game. You have to play it back,” she said, grabbing his arm to stop him from going further.

 

     “This isn’t a game, Roni!”

 

     “Same as last time—”

 

     “Enough!” her father snapped, dagger eyes digging into her soul.

 

     “You can’t give it to them! I won’t let you.”

 

     He grabbed her by the arms, lifting her to her tip toes, touching his nose to her. “I’ll decide what we will and will not do.”

 

     “General!” Storm shouted from behind. “Back off.”

 

     Her father’s eyes filled with fire, neck craning back. “You have no business here, Mr. Storm. I suggest you cut your losses and leave before I have my men remove you.”

 

     “Try it,” he said, way too calmly as he moved to her father’s side. “Your daughter wants me here. I can understand why, you don’t listen to her; you cut her off all the time, talk down to her and Valerie. If you’d paid attention, you’d see she’s as scared as you are.”

 

     He released her from the vice grip, straightened his shirt and stared down at her. Her anger threatened her wild tongue, but she stayed silent, shocked at Storm’s speech and keen observation. “I’m…sorry, Roni. I haven’t been thinking clearly since…”

 

     “I know,” she responded but didn’t reach out to offer him any comfort this time.

 

     “There’s nothing we can do tonight.” He frowned, running his hand through the silver strands on his head. “Let my men do their work…we’ll regroup in the morning.”

 

     “Okay,” she replied with a nod. “If I remember anything else, I’ll let you know.”

 

     “Very well,” he said, regarded Storm with a narrowing gaze then vanished inside his library.

     She sighed, covered her face and shook her head. “Such a mess.”

 

     “Yeah,” Storm replied. When she gazed up, his cheeks were still fiery with anger, hands clenched at his sides. “Are you okay?”

 

     “No, not really,” she answered. “This is…bad, Storm.”

 

ISBN # 9781607671534 @ AllRomance  and OmniLit

 

Jenn Nixon resides in  New Jersey . She is a member of Romance Writers of America and Liberty State Fiction Writers. Her love for thrillers and suspense often finds its way into her novels whether they are Science Fiction or Romance. When not writing, Jenn spends her free time reading, absorbing pop culture and current events, and social networking online. Current releases: Wild & Wicked and Chance of a Storm: Tease Publishing LLC.

          

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Authorsday: Joel M. Andre

1.      When did you know you wanted to be a writer? I think I have always known I wanted to be a writer. From a young age, I recall the library my father had and enjoyed having the chance to explore the different covers and contents of all of them. I think my love of horror and the written word came from him.

2.      Do you plot or do you write by the seat of your pants? I write from the seat of my pants. I know many people spend time mapping out their book. Instead, I allow the characters to tell their story. I think it helps to create some exceptional surprise twists.

3.      What was the name of the first novel you wrote? Did you try to publish it? The first novel I wrote was, A Death at the North Pole. I did publish it and it has a lovely cult following. Mind you, based on the subject matter and the content, it isn't for everyone out there. But if a person wants a good laugh and a little horror, it is the perfect blend.

4.      Tell me one thing about yourself that very few people know? That I am not the evil macabre individual that sometimes comes out in my books. I've had reviewers call me evil, but I genuinely have a caring heart and I think that shocks many people.

5.      If you have a day job, what is it? I work for Need An Article. They are an online article writing company. So I write all day and night.

6.      What’s your writing schedule? I write from the moment that I get up, until I go to bed. It is my livelihood and my passion. There isn’t a choice for me to write. It is in my blood and no matter if people love it or hate it, I just continue to write for myself.

7.      What place that you haven’t visited would you like to go? I still plan on making it to Maine one day. I'll call it my pilgrimage to Stephen King when I do. It is one of my life long dreams and I am going to eventually make it happen.

8.      What did you enjoy most about writing this book? I loved fleshing out the scenes of horror. I think they really add to the story and are essential when you are working to build up some shocks and thrills.

9.      Who is your favorite character in your book? Lauren Bruni remains my favorite character from this book. Although, Maureen was perhaps the most fun to write.

10.  What was the hardest scene to write? I edited the heck out of the Eleanor scene. Her death scene went on probably about 5 pages longer than it needed to. Instead of beating a dead horse, my editor says, you are beating Eleanor again.

Author Bio:

Joel M. Andre born January 13, 1981 is the author of, The Black Chronicles: Cry of the Fallen, A Death at the North Pole and 15 other unique works. Currently, he resides in Chandler, AZ.

Book Blurb:

The Black Chronicles: Cry of the Fallen is a journey filled with unique twists and dark humor. From the opening page, the poetic writing and horror elements will grip the reader and give them the chance to explore some of their inner fears.

ExcerpTuesday: Jannine Corti Petska

Excerpt:

In this scene, Reno is jealous that his brother Alex accompanied Rachel into the fort to shop. Because of his disguise as a priest,  Reno can't do anything about it. 

    Reno shrewdly watched Rachel ride into camp alongside his brother. His gut twisted every time he saw the two together. He was still irked at Alex for accompanying Rachel into the fort on the premise that Mrs. Larson called for the priest. The lie battered his mind, and he’d conjured up many reasons for Alex’s duplicity. The moment his brother left Rachel alone, Reno walked up to her before she had the chance to dismount.

    “A new hat?”

    She touched the hat, seemingly guilty for wearing it. “Yes, it is. Alex bought it for me—I mean…he—”  She pressed her lips together in displeasure then stated bluntly, “I didn’t ask him to buy it.”

    Her familiarity with Alex’s name raised Reno’s suspicions. It slipped off her tongue as if she’d spoken it a hundred times before. He doubted the gift didn’t mean anything. Knowing his brother lavished gifts on the women who had succumbed to his charms turned Reno’s gut inside out. He scowled while thinking up ways to make Alex suffer for his indiscretions. Reno inhaled deeply to collect his unhealthy thoughts and control his precarious temper.

    “I see you have your own gloves.”

    She bunched her hands into her skirt and indignant fire flared in her eyes. When she sat up taller with a look of challenge, his gut twisted tighter.

    “I cannot lie to you, Father. Alex bought the gloves, too.” She pulled blue material out of her saddlebag. “And the reticule.”

    Apparently, guilt rode her to tell the truth.

    She swung her leg over the horse’s neck to dismount. Reno curved his fingers around her small waist, forcing her hands to his shoulders as he set her to the ground. Remembering his place, he dropped his arms like felled trees.

    “Apparently you and Alex are on friendly terms now.”

    Her sunny smile stole his breath. “Yes, he and I are on friendly terms now.”

    A tick worked along Reno’s jaw, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it. He felt a burning need to ask how friendly. Instead, he chomped his teeth together and pried his lips apart with a reserved smile.

    “May I help you unsaddle your horse?”

    “Don’t trouble yourself, Father.”

    “Believe me, it’s no trouble at all.” He clenched his jaw. Better me than Alex.