Author Interview – Ana Fawkes

When you are not writing, how do you like to relax?

I like to step away from life a little. Watch a movie. Read a book out of my normal genre. Even take a nap… preferably with someone.

Do you have any tips on how writers can relax?

Everything I said above.

How often do you write? And when do you write?

I have to write everyday. It’s just my style. If I don’t, I feel wrong. I feel… like I’m letting myself and everyone around me down. A writer writes, right?

Do you have an organized process or tips for writing well? Do you have a writing schedule?

My process is to stay focused and organized. My schedule is write a set word count every single day. I set the word count based on the day, commitments, etc.

Sometimes it’s so hard to keep at it – What keeps you going?

The readers do. I mean, I can say myself because I have stories to tell, but it’s always amazing hearing from readers when they get excited about a cover, a blurb, a snippet. And then of course when they buy the actually books.

How do you feel about social media websites such as Facebook and Twitter? Are they a good thing?

They are good to interact with readers but can easily suck away time. You need to monitor and budget it. And that’s not just for writers… that’s for everyone in life.

If you could do any job in the world what would you do?

I’m doing it! I’m a writer.

What’s your next project?

The next book in the With the Rockstar series. This one is so much fun to write.

What would you love to produce in your life?

Books that stick. Books that hang around and people enjoy over and over.

How do you feel about self-publishing?

Love it! We have more books than ever to read!

How important are friends in your life?

They help me work out plotlines and hear my crazy stories before I write them.

How many friends does a person need?

Just one good one can be the same as a hundred… it’s preference.

What does love mean to you?

It’s a feeling and it’s total trust. When people in my books ‘submit’ it’s because they love the other person. They trust them.

Do you find the time to read?

I have to. I’m a writer. Writers have to write and read.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - New Adult Romance

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with  Ana W. Fawkes on Facebook &  Twitter

Website http://anafawkes.com/

Death’s Servant – C.J. Ellisson

Death’s Servant – C.J. Ellisson

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre – Urban Fantasy

Rating – R

4.9 (77 reviews)

Free until 31 December 2013

Jonathan Winchester has clashed with his alpha one too many times. After another argument he leaves the Manitoba pack, his only home since the werewolf attack that changed his life. He returns to his home state of Virginia to start a new life free of pack politics. Jon finds work and meets a young waitress, Raine, who appears to be a lone werewolf, too.
As their relationship progresses, Jon's embroiled in more intrigue than he bargained for and a danger bigger than he can handle. He's running scared until his own alpha tendencies surface, making him unable to leave the pretty werewolf's problems behind. The young man is desperate to save Raine--even if his efforts may lead him straight to death.
Journey along in this first prequel novel involving the favorite characters from the bestselling V V Inn series. Written at reader demand, this stand-alone story explains how the beloved Jonathan came to serve the deadly redheaded vampire, Dria.

Almost A Senior by Brenda Faye Collie

Chapter 1

“Jason, wake up” I yelled for the hundredth time. For the hundredth and one time he stirred in the bed mumbling, “Five more minutes.” He had stayed up Thursday night to watch Friday the 13th, Part Six. When I told him to cut off his new television at 12:00 am because he had an appointment with his probation officer at 9:00 am, he mumbled as the masked Jason on television cut up some poor white woman after having her screaming and running for ten minutes, “Five more minutes.” Jason was famous for his five more minutes. Mama said that he was born five days late and he’d probably be late for his own funeral. But I was determined that I wasn’t going to be late for school this morning. So, after I turned the slab bacon strips in the frying pan, I politely went into the refrigerator and took out the pitcher of cold water and threw it on him. He gave a yell which woke up Mama and I’m sure a few dead people. Mama came out of our bedroom running and screaming, “What’s the matter, Jay?” That’s what she calls him. Jay, which is short for jaybird cause he ain’t got much sense. He is nineteen and six feet two, which means he’s too old to be whining over a little cold water.

“Why you do that to him, Loresha?”

“Cause she’s crazy, Mama.” He used his pointer to circle his head.

I went into the kitchen and started beating two eggs for my breakfast. Me crazy? I didn’t steal a bucket of subway tokens from a subway station and then try to sell them outside the same station. He’s the one that has to appear in court every month to show that he’s making progress in a GED program and working for PAL as a youth aide. I go to regular school. I’m in the eleventh grade. I ain’t got to report to anyone except Mama Police.

Mama Police entered the kitchen and picked up a slice of bacon. She slammed the cabinet door after pulling down a cup. I didn’t say anything to her. I knew she didn’t want me to remind her that her job interview was at ten o’clock. I just scraped my eggs onto my plate because the look on her face said that she was not in a friendly mood. The faucet water thundered into the coffee pot.

“Why must everyone wake when you wake up, Loresha?”

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Young Adult

Rating – PG

More details about the book

Connect with Brenda Faye Collie via email

Website http://www.daylightbooks.net/#!

Author Interview – London Casey

How do you work through self-doubts and fear?

That’s tough for me because I have this a lot. I always worry about the next sentence, the next chapter. But the best way to get through it is to write through it. That’s what editing is for, right? Just get the story on paper and deal with it later.

What scares you the most?

Losing power… and the battery in my laptop going dead.

What makes you happiest?

Finishing a book and saying, “I wrote that…”

What motivates you to write?

To read the book and say, “I wrote that…”

What writing are you most proud of?

I’m proud of DownCrash. The Boys of DownCrash really opened the writing world for me. Sharing such deep stories really helped me personally. A lot of the stuff in those books pertained to my life in one way or another.

Is there any books you really don’t enjoy?

I can’t get into non-fiction. It’s really slow. Sorry.

How did you develop your writing?

I wrote. I wrote stories, poetry, random thoughts. I kept journals, notes, ideas. Whatever it took to make me feel better and get better.

What is hardest – getting published, writing or marketing?

Marketing is tough because I’m sort of a recluse by nature. So to step out and say “BUY MY BOOK?” is weird.

Do you find it hard to share your work?

Some stuff, yes. There were issues in DownCrash I debated to put into the books. But I wanted to share it… so I did.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - New Adult Romance

Rating – PG13

More details about the author & the book

Connect with  London Casey on Facebook &  Twitter

Website http://www.londonatcasey.blogspot.com/

Jim Musgrave – 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Becoming a Published Author

10 Things You Didn’t Know About Becoming a Published Author

by Jim Musgrave

1. Most of the real work is promoting yourself.

2. Readers enjoy hearing about an author’s struggles with writing and with life.

3. A reader is often a frustrated author.

4. A reader is often as “alone” as the author and wants to make a connection.

5. Your commercial “brand” is important.  Branding has less to do with image than it has to do with the quality the readers expect from your work.  See my blog post.

6. You can’t be afraid to change genres.

7. If you do something out of the ordinary, then you must spin it into a positive.  See my blog on this topic.

8. If you decide to self-publish, then you must understand that you must be as good as or better than the “big publishers.”

9. Social networking is an edge only if you use it correctly.

10. A good publicist is worth his/her weight in gold (unless he/she is a contestant on “The Biggest Loser”).

Buy Now @ Amazon @ Createspace

Genre – Historical Steampunk Mystery

Rating – PG13

More details about the author

Connect with  Jim Musgrave on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://contempinstruct.com/Forevermore/

Pirate Trials: Hung by the Neck Until Dead by Ken Rossignol

 

Pirate Trials: Hung by the Neck Until Dead – Ken Rossignol

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre – Non Fiction

Rating – PG

2.5 (2 reviews)

Free until 31 August 2013

Second in the series of Pirate Trials from news reports of the days and actual trial documents. NOTE: This is not a pirate romance novel or a Johnny Depp adventure of fantasy and make believe, but the details and drama from first person confessions and details of the charges against real pirates. This is not Hollywood. The real words of one pirate issued to a crowd who were waiting for his execution with his admontion to others to avoid the temptations brought on by hard liquor might be a little too much for some souls.  Parental guidance is the way to go for children and some adults need to avoid the tedious drama of this non-fiction and retreat to the safe haven of romance novels with pirates who are simply "hung" and not "hanged".
Join this bloodthirsty crew of pirates on ships which includes the dying declarations of the most brutal and vicious deeds ever set upon innocent civilians and merchant ship crews. The Demon Rum is cited as the chief cause by one pirate for his awful and murderous acts. Their day of reckoning came when they faced their final day of judgement when captured in Spain.
When a crew of passengers leapt from their disguise to overpower a steamship after it left New York on a trip to Portland, Maine, the pirates claimed the ship in the name of the Confederacy, at the height of the Civil War! Learn what happened to the ship and the pirates.

Ruined by Rachel Hanna

Ruined is a New Adult novel full of romance, angst and tons of emotion!

Willow Blake has a secret. A big one. And when she and her mother move cross country to protect that secret, her guard is up to protect her heart.

When she meets handsome Reed Miller, she feels her walls start tumbling down and the fear is overwhelming. If he finds out her secret, will he hate her forever?

Just when she thinks things are settling down, a new house guest makes her second guess everything she knows to be true about who she is and what she wants.

Caught between her past life and her new one – and two sexy men – will choose to be alone or fight for her own happiness?

Buy Now @ Amazon @ Barnes & Noble @ Kobo

Genre - New  Adult Romance

Rating – R

More details about the author

Connect with  Rachel Hanna on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://rachelhannaromance.com/

Corr Syl the Warrior by Garry Rogers

Part One:  Corr Syl

The Tsaeb Warriors.  In the peaceful Tsaeb civilization, few warriors remain to preserve the ancient knowledge of combat and war.  It is good that warriors persist, for like unworthy thoughts, dangerous individuals and species appear from time to time, and civilization needs its defenders.

History of the Tsaeb.  The Warriors. 
Morgan Silverleaf, Librarian of Wycliff District

Corr Syl

The warrior wiggled his furry toes, scratched an ear, and thought about singing with Ralph and dancing with Allysen last night.  He grinned and rolled out of bed.  As he reached toward his jar of dried fruit and nuts, he sensed the attack and dropped to the floor. 

The assassin came across the smooth stone with quick light steps, his gleaming blade slashing down from right to left.  The warrior had dropped right beneath the cut, and now he leapt forward, drew a short sword, and turned to block the whirling assassin’s rising cut.  As the assassin recoiled from the block, the warrior drew his long sword and attacked in 'two heavens' form, rotating blades beating down the defenses of the backing assassin.  In seconds the warrior stopped, his short sword holding the enemy blade, the edge of his long sword across the imaginary assassin’s neck.

The attack could follow many other paths.  Instead of completing a full spin after the blocked cut, the assassin could have directed his momentum 'over the mountain' onto the warrior's shoulders or skull.  To meet that slower, but stronger maneuver, the warrior might continue his turn into his left quarter, letting his short sword trail into a high block position.  Then he would step in and shove the assassin back, and again use two heavens.  Or . . . .

The instant an attack began, chemical and electrical impulses generated by nodes throughout his body would accelerate the warrior's movements.  Had the assassin been another Tsaeb warrior, the attack would have been complete before the warrior reached his sword.

Corr Syl, the youngest fully-trained warrior of Wycliff District, liked the direct block and the power of two heavens, but he knew that if he drew both swords, his long sword could end the encounter almost instantly.  He grinned, and his long gray whiskers twitched when he thought about the damage the edge-to-edge block by his almost indestructible drahsalleh sword would do to a metal blade.  He added the defense against the assassin's over the mountain maneuver to the collection of tactics in the battle kingdom of his memory world and shifted his thoughts.

Corr's battle kingdom held perfect memories of thousands of encounters, both from real practices with other warriors and from his imagination.  Narrow canyons, waterfalls, caves, and dark woods filled the battle kingdom.  A tendril of Corr's conscious mind often visited and relived favorite encounters.  After Nursery Canyon where Corr had spent his childhood, Corr liked the battle kingdom best. 

Barren lands and seas existing only as outlines covered most of Corr's memory world.  If no mortal attack or accident occurred, the outlines would eventually fill with images, emotions, and thoughts. 

Corr twitched his fur-covered skin, and pulled on his weapons harness.  As he snapped the smooth gray clasp bearing the warrior's insignia, he ended the thread of an old argument that had lost significance.  He had always questioned the value of mental combat exercises involving close-quarters surprise attacks.  No normal assassin, and almost no Tsaeb warriors, could come so close undetected.  But Corr's teacher had insisted that Corr practice such situations at least once every day.  After 13 years and thousands of practices, Corr's complaint had faded.  So he gave it up.  All the warriors Corr knew added a close encounter attack to their other daily exercises.  It must serve a purpose.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre –  Science Fiction

Rating – PG

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Garry Rogers on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://garryrogers.com/

Author Interview – Dave Wolverton

Tell us a bit about your family. I’m happily married, the father of five children.  My youngest son, Ben, lives at home, and was recently in a serious sporting accident.  He’s now recovering from a traumatic brain injury, and we’re very happy that he has survived.  This is me with Ben, and my son Spencer and daughter Danielle.

How do you work through self-doubts and fear? That’s easy.  I simply look at my past successes and use those to help inspire me and give me courage.

What’s your greatest character strength? When I was a child, I used to pick beans and strawberries for a living.  (I went to work at the age of four, which was common in those days.)  I learned then that if you keep working when others get tired, when you work when they’re worn out, when you work while they’ve stopped and gone to sleep for the night—you’ll accomplish far more than they ever dream.  I’m persistent.

Why do you write? I write because I have to.  It’s the creative impulse.  As a child, I once began to draw a picture of knights in battle.  It required thirty pieces of paper, and it filled up the entire floor in our kitchen.  My mother watched me work on it for hours every night and worried that I was insane.  So she called a doctor in to come see what I was doing.  He was a nice man who asked me a lot of questions about my picture, and I showed him how the battle was so even, but if you looked closely at the center of the picture, the good knights were beginning to triumph over the evil ones.

Afterward, I heard my mother whispering to the doctor in the other room.  “So what do you think?  What’s wrong with him?  Is he crazy?”

“No,” he said, “He’s not crazy.  He’s an artist.  Congratulations.”

I think that if you’re going to succeed in this business, at some level you have to feel driven to do this.  When you’re learning the craft, there won’t be any crowds cheering you on, saying, “Keep it up!  Someday you’ll be great!”

You have to discover the joy of writing within you.

What writing are you most proud of? Every writer has certain works that they enjoy most.  My most recent novel, Nightingale, has won several awards, including the International Book Award for Best Young Adult Novel of the Year, and the Hollywood Book Festival Award for Best Book of the Year.  I quite like it.  You can find it for sale at www.nightingalenovel.com as an e-book, an i-book, a hardcover, or as an audiobook.

What books did you love growing up? The first book that I ever remember reading and re-reading was Swiss Family Robinson, a book that I loved, but which seemed insane to me as a ten-year-old.  After all, what Swiss family is named “Robinson?”  And on what continent do African ostriches live next to Asian tigers and Oriental pirates?

Later I learned to love Aesop’s fables, Lord of the Rings, and then I moved to science fiction, like Dune, along with various philosophical novels.  There are so many that I’ve loved, it’s hard to name them all.

Who is your favorite author? I have dozens of “favorite authors,” people that I admire for different things.  I love Orson Scott Card’s use of voice and argumentation, for example.  I love Shakespeare’s character dynamics, and I love the poetry of Theodore Roethke and Robert Frost, the beauty of their wordplay.

I think that as an author, you need to read broadly, and then try to adapt the strengths of others as your own.  For example, one fairly new author that I admire is Shannon Hale.  Her use of metaphors just seems to spot-on to me.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Science Fiction/Fantasy

Rating – PG13

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Chief Editor, Dave Wolverton on Facebook

Website http://www.galaxypress.com/

Author Interview – Coral Russell

Tell us a bit about your family.

Coral Russell lives in the southwest with her hubby, baby Godzilla-sized kid and an adorable dog with which she shares a one-way, thermal dynamic relationship.

How do you work through self-doubts and fear?

You just do it. I’ve never been more scared then the first time I was going to teach an English class to middle Korean students in Korea. I was so scared I could barely put one foot in front of the other and I considered just turning around and forgetting about it. I’m glad I didn’t because I had the best time teaching English there and also getting my Masters and teaching English to students who speak other languages here in the states as well. I have doubted myself, but then you just have to ask yourself, “Are you happy with it?” If you can answer yes, then do it and move on.

What scares you the most?

I’ve had one full-blown panic attack and that was because my daughter was sick from in the womb with a kidney problem and after the news had sunk in a had that attack because I knew there was nothing I could do about it but pray. She grew out of it and is just fine and taller than her parents now!

What makes you happiest?

Knowing that I’ve crammed as much into this life as I possibly could with what I have.

What’s your greatest character strength?

Perseverance, if your character doesn’t have the strength to do that, how will she keep crawling over all those road blocks you set in their way.

What’s your weakest character trait?

Usually one of the seven deadly sins works really well.

Why do you write?

Because I have something to say and I’m not afraid to say it or to fail at saying it.

Have you always enjoyed writing?

No, I just realized that others thought I was good at it and accepted their opinion. Even in school, they thought I was good at it and even gave me good grades. Non-fiction, academic writing I could do but when it came to fiction it was like learning to ride a bike all over again. It always helps to have others believe in you when you don’t.

What motivates you to write?

Trying out new things. I am not re-inventing the wheel and I may not even be that original but I have themes I want to explore and writing lets me do that.

What writing are you most proud of? (Add a link if you like)

Peace on the Peninsula – I won the McCaleb Peace Initiative to study North and South Korea. It wouldn’t have been possible without the support of Dr. Cliff Toliver and one of my best friends Bruno Park (plus my family let me go to Korea for two weeks).

What are you most proud of in your personal life?

Having a family that is supportive of each other. I truly couldn’t live without them.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre - Thriller

Rating – PG13

More details about the author & the book

Connect with  Coral Russell on Facebook &  Twitter

Website http://shelf-stacker.com/

The Point of No Return by JD Combs

CHAPTER ONE

March 8, 2012

How did things get so bad? Ok, maybe bad is the wrong word. Maybe it’s just not what I expected. I have a good life, from the outside anyway. Anyone looking in would think I have the picture perfect world. My life makes me think of the song “He Thinks He’ll Keep Her” by Mary Chapin Carpenter. In the song Mary Chapin Carpenter talks about how the wife works to keep things looking picture perfect “spit and polish til it shines,” but she falls out of love maybe because of the monotony of her daily life. Or maybe it’s because she didn’t get much recognition for who she is as a woman and a lover, only as a mom and a wife. I think I’m becoming the girl in the song.

I know things aren’t really that bad. Garrett doesn’t abuse me or cheat on me (at least not that I know of). But we rarely talk anymore. The laughter is gone. It’s been replaced with apathy. Where there was once passion, laughter, and a shared ideal about building a life together, now there is only indifference. The TV is the moderator in our marriage. As long as the TV is on, there are no conflicts. I have to wonder how, with no work being put into our marriage, he thinks he’ll keep me.

I have to admit I’m partly to blame for all of this. I used to be the one to pick fights, to try and draw out what was wrong between us and fix the problems. But I got so tired of feeling like a nag and a shrew so I stopped. It was always up to me fix things between us. Garrett has always been happy to bury his head in the sand and let things go. In our early years, I brought up our problems to Garrett. He used to sit and talk with me. He wanted to look interested in fixing our issues, but things always went back to the way Garrett wanted them. If he wanted to fix things, he would fix them, but if they were my issues things always went back to the way they were before. It was exhausting and unrewarding work, so I stopped. I always hoped, though, Garrett would see how our marriage is becoming empty, and he would want to help fix things before it was too late.

I know things could be so much worse, and I feel like a shrew as I sit here thinking, “OH, woe is me!” So I'll take a break from my pity party and try to focus on the positive. The kids are my positive and my world.

As long as I focus on them, life is more than bearable. The five of them take my breath away when I look at them. I am in awe of what a gorgeous young woman Christina is. At 16 she’s in charge of her world and not afraid to show it. It’s scary to think how confident she is. She’ll do big things in her life. Noelle, sweet little Noelle, with her halo of blond hair, she’s quiet and bookish unless she’s with Andrew. Andrew pulls her out of her shell. His boisterousness is combined with an unrivaled sensitivity. I love seeing them together. And the twins, Amanda and Chandler, crack me up with their bickering banter back and forth. Those two are like a little old couple. I am in heaven when all of them are around.

It’s really only Garrett. He’s the void. The empty space in my life.

If I let my mind wander back in time, my heart hurts. I see a man and a husband who used to think the world of me, but that feeling is disappearing day by day. The joy we shared together is gone. Life is flat. Our marriage is mediocre, at best, and teetering on divorce, at worst. Sometimes I wonder why, if it used to be so good, we let it get the point of being nearly irreparable. But then I remember the hurt, the pain from so many years of unresolved conflicts. I see the lack of trying, on Garrett’s part, to make things better. I feel I always come last with him.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre –  Romantic Suspense

Rating – R (adult language / sexual scenes)

More details about the author & the book

Connect with JD Combs on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.jdcombs.com/

The Barber’s Conundrum by Other Stories by John Hartnett

Chapter 2: Quiet Please, Soccer Game in Progress

Icy temperatures far below normal.  Gale force winds.  Stinging sheets of horizontal rain.  Cascading rivers of mud.  This abnormal change in our spring weather patterns can only mean one thing. Somebody somewhere has scheduled a children’s soccer game.

My daughter had two games this weekend.  Like every game before them -- it rained.  Temperatures never got above 46 degrees unless you were lucky enough to spill coffee in your lap.  I saw two four-year old girls selling shots of Sambucca out of the back of their parent’s Suburban.

In spite of the inclement weather parents were there in force.  This was an end of the season tournament and there were eleven fields, all of them filled with hard charging boys and girls and all of them lined with parents, siblings, spectators, coaches, assistant coaches, and the occasional European trainer, whose ubiquitous cries of “Unlucky!” or “Well done!” in English and Irish accents provided a little extra ambience in a “Tom Brown’s School Days” sort of way.

While my daughter warmed up in preparation of warming up for her game, I took a walk along the line of soccer fields, stopping occasionally to watch the games for a moment or two.   The ages of the children varied, as did the gender and the level of skill but nonetheless a similar pattern emerged and along with it a revelation.  Some adults are just plain nuts.

The screaming, the endless screaming.  “Go!  To goal, to goal!”  “Watch number 3, watch number 3!  Nooooooo!!  I told you to watch number 3!”  “Shoot!  Shoot! Now shoot!  Now, now, now!”  “Take it up the side!  The side, keep going, keep going!” “Sarah’s in the middle, she’s in the middle!  The middle, the middle!  PASS!  PASS!”  “Ohhhhhhh!!!!”

I stood mesmerized by a coach who stalked along the sidelines shouting detailed instructions to his players as if he were a human joystick that could control their physical movements with just the sound of his voice.  “Danny, move left.”  “Dribble right and go, right and go!”  “Take it left and cross.  Cross!  Aahh, for God’s sake!  I said cross!”

Note to all parents and coaches who scream from the sidelines:  Your kids can’t hear a word you say. Want to control your players every move?  Get a foosball table.  As much as you want your kids to score, there are kids on the other team who don’t want them to score.  I’m surprised parents haven’t tried screaming at the kids on the opposing team.  “Hey number 11, stand still and do nothing!” 

I heard a mother offer the following words of encouragement to her daughter as she waited for the second half to begin, “Do it up right.  Make me proud.”  Do it up right?  I was tempted to alert the referee, “Mangled syntax on the field.  Everyone take a knee.”

Can you imagine how parents who shout at their kids at soccer games would fare if they were subjected to the same treatment at work?  Say they’re in the process of admitting an emergency room patient while the boss watches from across the room.  “Not the injury, the insurance card, check the insurance card first! We don’t take United Health anymore.  Oxford, yes! Oxford!  Quick, the copy machine’s free, the machine’s free.  Hurry!   Someone’s coming with a huge file, run!  Run! Keep going!  Oooooh!”

Years ago, I used to play little league baseball.  Most game days, I slid my glove on the handlebars of my bike and rode over to the field by myself.  My teammates did the same thing. Our parents came to watch if they had the time, if they were busy, they didn’t.  Sometimes we won, sometimes we lost.  Sometimes I got a couple of hits and caught a couple of balls and sometimes I didn’t.   Big deal.  It was summertime.

After the game, I’d ride back, put my bike in the garage and walk in the house.  My father would ask me how we did, I’d tell him a little bit about how the game went and that would be it.

Two minutes of conversation at best --and in my mind-- still the perfect length of time to spend discussing any game between a bunch of nine-year-old kids.

*****

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre –  Humor

Rating – PG

More details about the author & the book

Connect with John Hartnett on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://monkeybellhop.com/

Secrets and Lies by Natashiah Jansen & Ethan McKenzie

CHAPTER 1

"I'm quickly going to go to the photo shop. I'll be back in a jiffy," Jason said to his new bride.

"Honey, with this traffic, it will take you half an hour to cross the road. We are not at home, you know," Sharona replied with a smile.

"Yes… I know. When in Costa Rica, do as the ticos do."

"You know, those potholes don't exactly slow them down, so be careful when you cross the road."

"Yes, Mom." Jason grinned and then left.

Sharona quickly dressed. She went to Casa del Café, a coffee shop in the Marriot Hotel they were staying at, which overlooked the main street. She hoped to catch Jason on his way back and have a cup of coffee with him. The streets were filled with locals, as well as tourists visiting San José. Here, like in most Latin countries, people had very little respect for traffic laws, but Jason knew that.

Sharona sipped on a cup of java when she noticed Jason on the other side of the street. She waved, trying to get his attention. He noticed her and waved back, smiling. He glanced to the left and then the right, and then took one step, looking at Sharona's smiling face.

Tires screeched, Sharona heard a loud thud and people started to scream. Sharona looked at the crowd that had gathered in the street. Her trembling hands covered her stifled scream as she got up from her chair. She ran out of the coffee shop, pushing and shoving patrons out of the way, and ran to reach the crowd. Jason lay in the street with blood pooling around his head, his eyes staring at the blue sky above.

###

"I'm sorry to do this, ma'am, but was your husband an organ donor?" the nurse asked.

"Yes," Sharona answered, handing her Jason's ID card.

She sat alone in the steely white waiting room smelling of disinfectant. This was not how she had imagined her honeymoon would end. They'd been in love for so long; she had never imagined that it would end this way.

The nurse came running back to her with a stack of forms she had to sign. At the top of each form, "Hospital La Catolica" was written in bold red letters. She signed every single one of the pages without reading them. The nurse gently stroked her shoulder.

"We have contacted the next of kin, Mr. Edward Black. He will take the first available flight to San José."

It suddenly hit Sharona that they hadn't even had the opportunity to change any of their personal details. All of Jason's documents still listed his father as his next of kin. She let out a silent cry, covering her face with her hands. The nurse sat next to her and gently rubbed her back, trying to console her.

###

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Genre – Medical Suspense Thriller

Rating – PG

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Author Interview – Elyse Douglas

If you could travel in a Time Machine would you go back to the past or into the future?

Doug:  Most certainly the future.

Elyse:  Most certainly the past.  I would like to experience the silence and stillness of NYC before electricity and cars were invented.

If you could invite any 5 people to dinner who would you choose?

Doug:  Benjamin Franklin, William Shakespeare, Dolly Madison, Abigail Adams and St. Teresa of Avila.

Elyse:  Emily Dickinson, Virginia Woolf, Mary Oliver, William Butler Yeats, and Richard Wilbur.

If you were stranded on a desert island what 3 things would you want with you?

Doug:  A lot of Balance Power bars, The Bhagavad-Gita and Emily Dickinson’s poems.

Elyse:  Assuming I had enough food and water, I’d go for the complete works of Shakespeare, a big, fat notebook, and enough pens to last a lifetime.

What is one book everyone should read?

Doug:  The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

Elyse:  The essay What I Believe by E.M. Forster.

If you could have any superpower what would you choose?

Doug: Flight.

Elyse:  The ability to inculcate compassion.

What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?

Doug:  Definitely vanilla.  It’s smooth, it’s simple, it’s easy to eat.

Elyse:  Doug has sung the praises of vanilla ice cream for so long that he’s made me a convert.  But of course, I top it with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, walnuts, and cookie pieces.

What is your favorite thing to eat for breakfast?

Doug: A big ole New York City Bagel.

Elyse:  Peach pancakes with real maple syrup and lots of butter.

Night owl, or early bird?

Doug: I can hoot or tweet.  Hooting is more natural.

Elyse: Definitely a night owl.

Pet Peeves?

Doug:  Bad music pumped into TV news, restaurants, TV ads and retail stores.

Elyse:  Bad food prepared badly.  That includes most fast food.

Skittles or M&Ms?

Both:  Definitely M&Ms

Please tell us in one sentence only, why we should read your book.

Both:  The Astrologer’s Daughter has strong characters, is a fast enjoyable read and includes astrology, presidential politics, love and sex.

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Genre – Romance

Rating – PG

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Website http://www.elysedouglas.com/

Neverlove (Shadow Jumpers) by Angela Brown

Chapter One

Abigail

Providence, Rhode Island

Six. Whole. Months.

The longest time her mother stayed home in the last few years.

Enough time that a sense of security snuck into Abigail’s heart, lulled her mind into forgetfulness.

But the monster hadn’t forgotten.

Abigail bolted awake at the squeaky turn of her bedroom door knob. The scent of lavender flooded the room. It tickled her nose and she sneezed, refocusing her gaze on the open doorway. Her father stood there, the shadowed hall an ominous backdrop.

She replayed her nightly routine in her mind, cringing at the part where she was supposed to lock the door. I didn’t have to. Mom’s home. Or so Abby thought. No need to ask him why he was there. Her belly twisted in knots. Please, God. Not again.

Instead, she asked, “Where’s mom?”

Her hand crept to the bedside table, nervous fingers taking twice as long to click on the lamp. More shadows crowded around her father.

“End of the month crisis. Something only she could handle. It’s just me and you.”

Abigail sucked a breath through her teeth. Her. Him. Alone.

Not good. She pulled her blankets closer, tighter to her body. Fear shoved her heart into overdrive, a thrumming beat in her ears. She couldn’t keep up the charade any more. It had to stop.

“Don’t come any closer.” After years of blind obedience, she’d grown too aware of how wrong her father was to do the things he did – to her – his only child.

His wild eyes radiated a sickening yellow glow, teeth bared and bright white. “Have you lost your mind, Abigail? Don’t you know I love you?” His words slipped through clenched teeth, voice graveled by anger, disbelief.

“No,” she answered. “This was never love. From the first time you…ugh! This is sick, Walter.” Nauseous turmoil twisted deep within. “Please, leave me alone.”

She’d never said no. The extra bolt on her door usually did the trick. But she’d forgotten. It didn’t help that her father was the pillar of the community, accustomed to getting what he wanted. People who didn’t want to be him wanted to be with him, something Walter always tossed in her face. Like that made everything all right.

Telling someone about the real Walter – the monster? Not an option.

One teacher suspected something, quietly approached Abigail about her Goth girl look, then mysteriously resigned within a day of their conversation.

She tried telling her mother. A lot of good that did. Her father’s denials, his handsome face and his “I’m shocked our daughter would say such a thing” act, earned Abigail a slap across the face.

There was no one.

Abigail reached up and wrapped her fingers around the small, crystal, soccer ball dangling from her necklace. It used to belong to her older brother. He died when she was twelve years old, a car accident that should have taken both father and son. Somehow, Walter escaped without so much as a scratch. Abigail lost her closest, and only, friend. That’s when her father’s visits began.

“Your mother won’t be back for a couple of days.” He stepped closer. Abigail backed further on her bed. Each step he took out of the shadows brought him into the tiny light of her bedside lamp. Gone were the hazel eyes with flecks of green they shared. Matching skin a sandy tone, flawless. The same cheekbones set high within heart shaped faces. She even inherited his deep set dimples and full lips. Nothing left but the monster she dreaded.

Abigail tightened her grip on the charm, calling on all her strength. Five years of it was long enough. Too long. This was her moment to put her foot down. “I’m serious, Walter! Go away!”

“So I’m Walter to you, now. Huh? It’s like that?” His voice rose in pitch, the tension like a weighted mass bearing down on her.

Abigail held her head high, face tilted upward, defiant…silence her answer.

He rushed to the bed in a rustle of tailored Italian garb, backhanding Abigail. Her heart leapt in her chest. Shock cut her breath to the quick. Her head whipped to the side, cheek stinging. But what followed burned into her mind.

Up until then, he’d taken her innocence one bit at a time, touches and kisses that confused her, affections that would have been okay – if they came from a high school crush. Not her father. He’d allowed her to keep her virginity…the last pure thing she had.

No more.

He stole it from her, taking a sick joy in her pleas for help going unanswered by the silent night.

A raspy voice crept along the fringes of her thoughts after her father left her alone to deal with the damage he dealt.

End the pain. End the fear.

End it all.

There’s no one to save you.

In death, your father can no longer hurt you. And he will come for you again.

You’re lonely and deserve to be. No one wants to understand you or care that your Goth look blends the black and blue into something trendy.

End it. Be at peace. Now.

The words settled in Abigail’s mind clear and true, as if Death itself knelt by her side whispering in her ear. Taking her own life was a terrible option that would damn her soul to hell. But it also promised peace. After what her father did, fire and brimstone at the hands of the devil appealed so much more than hell on earth at the hands of one meant to love her.

The following morning, sunshine filtered through her blinds and mottled her bedroom floor. The beautiful day beyond her window could not break the perfect storm that consumed Abigail. She struggled, pained in all the wrong places, and got out of bed. Glancing at her clock, she knew she had the house all to herself. She pressed a finger to her cheek and moaned at the soreness. Abigail trained all her thoughts on putting one foot in front of the other, leaning on the wall for support. She was determined to make it to her parents’ bathroom if it killed her.

Ironic, since that was her intent anyway.

Minutes passed to an hour when Abigail finally sank into her parents’ claw foot tub. Steam rose in white, smoky wisps from the water’s surface. Stinging warmth seeped into her skin, her pores taunted open by the heat. Just the thing to cleanse her father from her system. Release the filth of his still-lingering touch. Not that it would matter soon. After last night, she’d made up her mind. Seventeen wasn’t such a bad age to die.

Abigail cast a glance toward the bathroom floor. Ripped pieces of her mother’s stationary littered every inch, her failed attempts to come up with a poetic message, something meaningful to leave behind. The lace edging of each pink scrap curled from the steam, pitiful imitations of rose petals. Her tired gaze slid up to the mirror where her final words stood out bold in her favorite shade of dark red:

Deciding to die should have been the hard part. Not the stupid note!

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Genre – YA Paranormal Romance

Rating – PG13

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Blog http://publishness.blogspot.com/

Author Interview – Suzanne Anderson

What makes you happiest?

Writing. Truly! I’ve waited so many years to finally discover a career that brings me joy, and writing is it. I can’t wait to begin a new book or share what I’ve written with readers. Writing is my dream come true.

What’s your greatest character strength?

I’ve been told that I have the determination of a pit bull. If you wish to pursue a writing career, or really any career, you need two elements: 1) a passion for your career, and 2) the determination to keep going through the many failures and setbacks that make up the valleys that ultimately make the summits of success possible.

What’s your weakest character trait?

Chocolate. Baking as a form of procrastination. Both of which have made my attempts to lose weight a perpetually losing battle…of course, I could also blame it on hormones, but that would just be another excuse.

Who designed the cover?

I did! I used photos and artwork that I found on Shutterstock.com. I’ve used a professional graphic designer in the past, but when I decided the change the cover, and my regular designer was too busy to fit me in, I decided to try it myself. That said, I plan to use a professional book cover designer on my future books.

Will you write others in this same genre?

YES! Currently I write in three genres: women’s fiction, children’s fiction, and inspirational devotionals. Each reflects a different love in my life and I hope to continue writing books in each genre for many years to come.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

For God Loves You. ~Chester Blue, I want readers to embrace the very simple message conveyed in the book: no matter where you are in life, no matter who you are: God Loves You. I hope that readers of Waiting with God will discover that often the point of our unanswered prayers is to draw us into a closer walk with God. And that many answers can be found by reading the Bible and in quiet time and prayer.

What are your goals as a writer?

Someday I’d love to see my name on the New York Times’ Bestsellers list. Even beyond the ‘fame and fortune’ that you imagine would come with membership on this vaunted list, the real reason that sort of acclaim would be so rewarding is the knowledge that so many readers loved a story I created.

Can we expect any more books from you in the future?

YES! I have three new books coming out in the next six months:

1. A women’s inspirational / contemporary novel

2. A children’s picture book

3. A Christian devotional

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Genre - Inspirational Devotional

Rating – G

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Genre - Illustrated Children’s Books

Rating – G

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Website http://www.suzanneelizabethanderson.com/

In A Small Town by Marc A. DiGiacomo

CHAPTER ONE

August 3, 2007

Not In Our Town

I can’t get it out of my mind. The lightning that exploded from the end of the barrel. The ripping orange flash off the black steel. The smell of gunpowder. The sound, like an M-80. And the pain—the fucking searing pain. It is permanently scorched into my memory. Everything but his face. The face I didn’t see haunts me every second. All I remember are those ultra-white Reebok sneakers as he ran away. The fucking coward would have shot me in the back, but I turned around and caught the blast in the chest. I didn’t have time to pull my Glock.

The shot knocked me to the ground. I thought I was having a heart attack—I couldn’t catch my breath. Then I understood what happened, and reality hit: I was going to die.

It seemed to take minutes rather than seconds, but I managed to radio into headquarters. The response from the good guys was impressive, to say the least. They saved my life. Cops from my own town and others surrounded the scene. I knew they would come. When a cop gets shot, they all come, and with one thing in mind—to find the bastard who pulled the trigger.

Things grew foggy. I saw blue uniforms scurrying around the scene while white-clad EMTs lifted me onto the gurney and loaded me into the ambulance. I could hear people talking about me—reporters, other cops, curious residents. “Detective Matthew Longo…Only 29 years old, been on the force nearly 10 years…Shot in the fucking chest and shoulder. No wife or children. Parents live in town; Hutchville lifers. Oh yeah, the town is going to go batshit over this.”

Blood oozed from my left shoulder. My friend and paramedic Scotty Franks hovered over me and placed direct pressure on my wound. Even through my fog I could tell he was holding back tears. My shoulder was on fire. I never wore my bulletproof vest unless making entry on a search warrant, or if a hot pursuit was coming my way; then I quickly threw it over my shirt. I was lucky I had it on that night. Maybe someone on the other side was looking out for me.

I fell unconscious even with all the shouting around me. I dreamed of my funeral and who would be there. I saw myself in the blue box surrounded by a sobbing crowd of familiar faces. My parents looked horrible. My poor mother clutched her bible and rosary beads. My dad kept his eyes glued to the floor, angry and broken. My little brother Franny, in full uniform, stood near my casket at full attention, his white gloves damp from tears. Donny was there too, trying to keep it together.

I heard Scotty screaming for me in the distance. The poor guy loved me, but why was he screaming my name, spitting all over my face, at my wake? Maybe I should have had a closed casket.

Suddenly I felt him slapping me. I awoke and found myself back inside the ambulance. Scotty took a deep breath, in and out, and said, “Okay Matt, okay. Don’t do that again.”

The pain was relentless, and I couldn’t help but cry. Scotty put a needle into an IV line in my arm and the pain vanished almost immediately. “Don’t give me morphine Scotty,” I managed to whisper. “It killed my grandparents.” Then I lost consciousness again, falling into a world between life and death.

I heard someone screaming in the night. Was it me? It was too dark to see. Where’s Donny? I really needed him now. Was I dreaming again or was this some delusion of reality? I slapped myself and felt a sharp sting, jolting me awake.

It has been three weeks of hell living inside this apartment. My social life has been placed on indefinite hold. The phone rings constantly but who cares? I don’t answer. The window shades are drawn. I don’t know if it’s day or night, and I don’t give a shit.

Thankfully, the wound has been healing well. But I look at my shoulder and am repulsed by the scar and missing flesh. People say scars are sexy but this one may be the exception. My left arm is still in a sling. At times, the pain is still unbearable. The percocet I’m still taking makes me pass out.

The sink is loaded with paper dishes and plastic cups. Last week’s dinner from my mother sits on the kitchen table still wrapped in tin foil, and the smell is starting to ferment in my kitchen. I can hear my Dad’s deep voice in my head: “Why don’t you pull it together and clean up around here? You’re making your mother nervous.” She’s nervous? I can’t help laughing.

Hey Dad, your oldest son was almost shot dead in the same small, safe community where we played Little League baseball. Mind if I take a week or two to let that one sink in?

Only cops—and maybe some of their wives—realize how dangerous police work can become in a millisecond. Parents of cops usually choose to ignore the reality—it’s too difficult to accept that a life-or-death choice awaits their son or daughter at any moment. A bank robbery turns into a shootout; a wanted felon gets pulled over for a broken tail-light and decides suicide by cop is his only way to avoid a lengthy jail sentence. As a detective, this is my everyday reality.

This isn’t supposed to happen in a small town. We’ve never had a police shooting—never. In fact, the last time we had any kind of criminal shooting was ten years ago, and it was a domestic dispute between a father and his cheating son-in-law. These old-school Italians are no joke. The father said his son-in-law disrespected him, so he “took care of it” like they do in the old country.

It didn’t make any sense. It would have been one thing if I had been shot on a traffic stop. But I was just picking up a fucking pizza. Half pepperoni, half sausage. I was just walking down the street. It wasn’t even dark out as the sun was just setting in the western sky.

My mentor and partner Detective Domenico “Donny” Mello always told me never to “go anywhere alone.” He said, “Don’t even pick up lunch alone. A cop is always a target for someone looking to become infamous. The public hates us most of the time because our interactions are rarely positive. Nobody calls us when they have a new baby but if that baby isn’t breathing, there is no one else to call. Always the bad,” he would say. “Always the bad.” I miss Donny. He’s been away for three weeks at his family’s villa in Italy, on the Amalfi coast. Did he even know I had been shot?

The press remains close by outside my apartment, salivating for an interview, the fucking cretins. I’m the talk of the town—everyone wants to know about the cop shooting. Fuck them. Twice. Even if I wanted to relive the horrifying experience for them, it goes against department protocol.

I swallow down two percocets, lay down on the couch and let the painkillers do their magic. In my head the image haunts me—a dark shadow with the whitest fucking sneakers you ever saw.

****

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Genre – Thriller

Rating – R

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Author Interview – Dakota Madison

Tell us a bit about your family.

I have a wonderful husband and we have been married 13 years. We also live with two beautiful bloodhounds.

What makes you happiest?

I’m always happiest when I’m home with husband and our bloodhounds but I also love to travel. Spending time on a beach with a good book is definitely one of my biggest pleasures in life as is watching movies.

What writing are you most proud of?

I am very proud of writing 12 novels in 12 months. I began this quest in November 2012 and I’ve almost completed my journey!

What books did you love growing up?

My two favorite books were Alice in Wonderland and The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Both beloved books have wonderful female characters and teach wonderful life lessons.

What book should everybody read at least once?What is hardest – getting published, writing or marketing?

For me, writing is the easy part. I find selling my work a lot more difficult. It’s also extremely difficult to balance marketing and promotion with writing more books. There are only so many hours in the day.

Do you find it hard to share your work?

It can be extremely difficult to share one’s work with the world, especially when it is criticized. It’s interesting to me that so many people think nothing of tearing a book apart in “book reviews.” I wonder if they would say those same things to my face if they met me in person? I doubt it.

What other jobs have you had in your life?

I work as a university professor for my “day job.”

Tell us about your new book? What’s it about and why did you write it?

After Alex Died is a romance/love story that is also about bullying, suicide and healing from grief. I wanted to write a romance novel that was unique, so I thought about who would be the most unlikely people to ever fall in love. I had been reading a lot of articles about suicide as the result of being bullied (especially amongst gay and lesbian teens) and I wondered if it would be possible for a person to fall in love with someone, who bullied her brother so much that he killed himself. I wondered what happens to bullies after bullied person kills him or herself. How is the bully’s life impacted? Those questions led to After Alex Died.

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Genre - Contemporary/New Adult Romance

Rating – R

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Website http://12novels12months.tumblr.com/

Author Interview – Dana Hui Lim

Tell us a bit about your family. My family all had similar experiences during the reign of the Khmer Rouge, but we all reacted very differently. For example, I like the quiet life where I can pursue my interests, but my brother Khay has returned to Cambodia and is now a General in the armed forces. No one pushes him around now! My mother has survived breast cancer and still travels to Cambodia to set up schools and temples. My other siblings are mostly spread out across Australia, although one sister lives in New York. We are all very different people but we are also productive members of our societies.

How do you work through self-doubts and fear? If I ever find myself fearful of something I just tell myself that whatever it is, I have been through far worse and survived. In most cases I just think: “What’s the worst that can happen? At least I’m not being shot at”, and then get on with it. Fear can be burned away by experience, or at least your sense of it can be recalibrated to a point where the sorts of things that most people are apprehensive of barely register.

What scares you the most? I think the thought that would give me nightmares the most, would be for my daughter to be subjected to the same sort of horror that I experienced during my childhood.

Either that or my annual dream, in which it is exam time and I haven’t studied.

What makes you happiest? Doing what I want, when I want, whether it is helping out at a local shelter for homeless people, traveling across the globe, hiking or snow skiing. The last is a very unusual hobby for my family, as I had never even seen ice until I was 13 or so.

Have you always enjoyed writing? No, and I still don’t! English does not come easily to me, and this book was hard work from beginning to end. Every line had to be read and re-read to ensure that it made sense. My native language does not even have tenses or plurals, which I think is why you often see Asian restaurant menus say things like ‘beef with cashew nut’. Just one nut? No, but it sounds that way.

What motivates you to write? Writing is a chore for me, but I really wanted my story to be told. Most of my countrymen will not have the chance to be heard, so in my small way I wanted to help let others know about what happened to the people of Cambodia.

What are you most proud of in your personal life? Raising my daughter and allowing her to become the person she wants to be. She has graduated with two bachelor degrees and is currently working towards a PhD in Psychology.

What books did you love growing up? I didn’t have any books growing up, and couldn’t have read them if I did. I loved my school books once I had them though, but that was when I was 18 and they were strictly an aid to the education I had been lusting after for so long. It wasn’t until much later that I could read for pleasure, and I never had a chance to develop a taste for fiction.

What book should everybody read at least once? Any book that shakes them up and makes them do something that counts. I don’t like to mention a particular work, for I don’t think I am qualified to comment.

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Genre – Memoir

Rating – PG13

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Website http://odysseybooks.com.au/

Beautiful Whispers by Alice Ayden

Beautiful Whispers – Alice Ayden

Amazon Kindle US

Amazon Kindle UK

Genre – Romantic Suspense

Rating – PG13

4.5 (4 reviews)

Free until 24 August 2013

Twenty-one year old Jane lives on a gorgeous Virginia Plantation and carefully manages her quirky family. Everyone assumes she'll marry her rich, childhood sweetheart, but things change when Alexander returns. There is an instant attraction between the girl from one of Virginia's oldest families and the son of a maid, but Jane is haunted by horrible images from her past. Will Alexander protect her from a past he doesn't even know about?