The Spear Alight, the final book in my Guardians of Erin series, is now available for preorder! The release of this book will be bittersweet. I’ll truly miss the characters and their adventures in Ireland. But you can still tag along and see how it all ends. Here’s the story:
Ashling Donoghue has almost lost hope of finding her missing parents. As her faith wanes, her love for two men waxes, rending her heart and causing friction in the Breasal household. The time has come to make a choice, to create a future untarnished by doubt. But how can she embrace the light when lured by the soft seduction of shadow?
At last, her brother Conall channels the Spear of Illumination. He’s a natural shapeshifter, and he sees through illusions in both the material world and the Otherworld…not a moment too soon. An ancient evil has surfaced, and it threatens all worlds.
Only the Donoghues can save Ireland. They must face their greatest fears and act as one to fulfill their destinies as guardians of Erin.
A peek between the pages:
All aspiration toward sleep left me. I needed company. Now.
Lorcan.
Bad idea. Far worse than waking up my sister. But he wouldn’t judge. In fact, he’d probably be glad to see me. Me, Ashling Donoghue, pariah and maven of mistakes. I’d made a million of them. What was one more?
I imagined the interior of Lorcan’s tent at Dun Aengus on Inishmore. Then I flexed my will and was there, surrounded by rich colors, sumptuous fabrics, and perforated hanging lanterns. The intricately patterned Persian carpet felt soft and soothing to my bare feet.
Was he in bed? There was one safe way to find out. “Lorcan? Are you here?”
“Ashling?” His silken voice, warm and rousing, flowed from the bedroom and washed over me.
“Yes. It’s me.”
A heartbeat later, he appeared between the drawn, red curtains that separated his bed from the main section of the tent. He wore a black velvet dressing gown and an expression of mingled surprise and pleasure. With relaxed strides, he closed the gap between us. “You’re the last person I expected to see tonight.” His heated gaze roamed over me.
Too late, I realized I was wearing a thin, white night shirt that refused to cover anything below my upper thighs. I grabbed the hem on both sides and pulled downward…in vain. “I never planned to come.”
“Why did you?” His shoulder-length black hair looked as luxurious as his robe. I stifled the urge to touch both.
“I needed a friend.”
“Haven’t we traveled beyond the bounds of friendship?”
My stomach trembled at the memory of our passionate kiss. Stop it! I huffed. “That never should’ve happened.”
“But it did, because it had to.” His ice blue eyes held my gaze. “You belong to me. We belong to each other.”
“Aengus would disagree.”
“If he were here, but he isn’t.” He reached for my left hand and turned it over. Gently, he caressed my palm with the pad of his thumb.
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” My palm tingled.
Please welcome sister Rose (published by The Wild Rose Press) C. L. Colyer! She’s here to talk about her new release, Friends to the End. I love the cover, don’t you? Let’s sit back, relax, and learn all about the author and her inspiration for this middle-grade story, which bestselling author Allan Woodrow has called “a compelling, gripping, nail-biting page-turner.”
Hello, Judith! Thanks for having me on your blog!
I write across genres, with most of my published titles being young adult paranormal romances/thrills. But I have always had a love for children’s fantasy. Bring on the ghosts, vampires, witches, and weird. I’ll gobble up these stories, cheering and gasping right along with the characters. It’s because I love these stories so much that I enjoy weaving together my own.
Friends to the End is the third middle-grade novel I penned, but the first to be published. The inspiration behind this story was two-fold. The adventure came first. I envisioned four friends creeping around an ancient old house, trying not to draw attention to themselves as they searched for a way out. Who they were hiding from and why they were in danger came to me quite out of the blue as I drove by a road not far from my house. Tucked between the homes on what would otherwise be a peaceful rural road is the second most haunted cemetery in Illinois. I passed this road everyday as a teen as the bus took me to school. I’d heard the stories of apparitions seen floating above graves or walking down the road. This cemetery quickly became the inspiration for my fictional town.
But Friends to the End isn’t just a ghost story. Zach, my kind-hearted and brave (even though he doesn’t realize it just yet) protagonist is dealing with the loss of his best friends. His personal jury was born by the overwhelming and heartbreaking loss of innocent lives that happen in Chicago and other cities everyday. Having lost his best friend to the violence, Zach battles the ghosts in his past as he battles the all too real ghosts in the book. He’ll need to be brave if he hopes to make it out alive.
A little more about the book:
Zach doesn’t believe in ghosts…but he should.
Twelve-year-old Zach is convinced he’ll never be happy without his best friend Jeremy by his side. But both of their lives changed with a bang five months ago, and as far as Zach’s concerned, it’s his fault Jeremy will never see his twelfth birthday.
When Zach moves with his family to a Chicago suburb, he quickly becomes friends with a group of thrill-seeking kids trying to find a disappearing haunted house. But Zach’s not worried. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, so he follows them into a wild, dangerous encounter that becomes a battle to decide what’s real and what’s not.
A peek between the pages:
We stopped a few yards from the cemetery, our mouths hanging open and our eyes wide.
“Please tell me you see that,” I whispered.
“If you mean the white lights floating above the ground,” Josh said, “we see it.”
“They’re orbs,” Morgan corrected, as if knowing the proper name for the glowing spheres made it okay to see them.
“Orbs?” Josh asked.
“Spirits of the dead,” I replied, remembering what Morgan had told me.
Dom scooted his bike closer. “Maybe we should ask them if they’ve seen the house.”
“Seriously?” Morgan asked.
“Yeah.”
Morgan shook her head, causing her ponytail to swing from side to side. “Oh, no! I learned my lesson the last time we were here. I’m not stepping one foot off the shoulder of the road.”
“Your right foot is in the grass,” Dom said, shining his flashlight on her sneaker.
Morgan scowled and repositioned herself to have both feet on concrete.
Three iridescent orbs floated over headstones. I thought about the movies that warned people to stay away from the light. Maybe they weren’t warning us about a bright beam of light, but instead small glowing balls. Maybe if one of them touched you, the spirit would take over your body. Maybe they were waiting for someone to be stupid enough to come closer. I suddenly wondered if I’d met anyone who’d been possessed by a spirit and immediately thought of Olivia and her strange habits.
Then I told myself I was being ridiculous.
Or was I? Think about it. How would anyone know if a ghost hitched a ride with the person in front of him or her?
C.L. Colyer found her love for writing in first grade when her class was sent to the library and asked to find a book for their first book report. While she doesn’t still have this book report, she’s very proud to say she got an A on it. Her favorite thing about the book was that it had no words. That’s right, not one! That gave her the freedom to interpret the pictures in any way she wanted and write her own story.
This sparked her love for writing essays. It wasn’t until she was an adult that she sat down and penned her first novel. This story has a special place in her heart because it’s the story that helped her discover her passion for writing. She has since written several books, many of which may never see the light of day, but all of which helped her learn to combine her passion for writing with her fascination with all things mythical. You’ll find examples of this in her novels.
Today, I’m excited to feature Iona Morrison’s new release! As the Page Turns is her tenth Blue Cove Mystery. I loved the first book in the series, and I’ll soon begin the second. It may be a while before I get to this one, but I’m certain it’ll be another page-turner. Here’s the scoop on the story:
Peyton Reynolds has no idea that the gorgeous summer day she is enjoying is about to take a strange turn and embroil her and her boyfriend Jaxon Kincaid in another case. As the details emerge, it won’t take long for them to understand there is nothing normal about the murder Peyton has witnessed. An erratic suspect, a gathering of ghosts, and Peyton’s sudden disappearance will leave Jaxon scrambling for answers in the pages of a book left behind. They will have to think outside the box with help from the past to solve this one.
A peek between the pages:
Peyton awakened with a start. An odd scraping sound sent her imagination into overdrive. Was it outside? The scratching seemed loud enough to be coming from inside the cottage. Trying to focus in the dark, her eyes searched the room while she strained to hear the noise. The scraping sound came again. Nails on a chalkboard, tree branches against the cottage, or someone trying to force open a lock, back and forth it went, pausing only to begin again. She sat up quietly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Did Jessie hear it too? She reached for her phone. Slipping on her robe, she tiptoed over to the bedroom door to listen while reaching for a heavy vase on top of the dresser. “Ouch.” She heard Jessie yell out. Followed by something she couldn’t hear.
Without thinking Peyton opened the bedroom door and raced toward the lightened living room, ready to go to battle and save her cousin. Suddenly she was propelled backward when her body slammed hard into a solid object standing right in the way. The vase in her hand fell to the floor with a loud crash sending shards of glass in several directions. With the wind knocked out of her and no air to scream, she sprawled out helplessly on the floor imagining the worst. She was afraid to open her eyes.
I am a multi-published Amazon best selling author who writes romantic suspense with a touch of the paranormal. I enjoy writing fiction. The character development, their stories, and the twists and turns in the plot intrigue me. Once I let the characters loose, I can’t wait to see where they take me. I’m hooked from the first words on the paper, and I have to keep writing to see how the story ends. Layer by layer I build it until I come to the happy conclusion. I live in Colorado with my husband and family. I am a member of the RMFWPAL (Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Published Authors League) and The Colorado Author’s League. I have enjoyed becoming involved in my community as one of the many authors living in Colorado. I invite you to read one of my Blue Cove Mysteries and see for yourself why Blue Cove is a special and unusual place.
I’m excited to welcome Melody DeBlois, a sister Rose (published by The Wild Rose Press), today! Tomorrow is release day for her new contemporary romance, Undercover in Venice Beach, and she’s here to talk about courting the muse. Take it away, Melody!
The Muse arrives when I turn out the light,
And if I am lucky stays through the night.
She often sticks around until it is tomorrow,
Leaving a stream of words for me to borrow.
The muse is a fleeting lady. Although she’s forever late to the party and the first to leave, I never bar her entrance. Still, the more I struggle to catch her, the more she eludes me. A surefire way to scare her off is to overthink her, but for the sake of this blog, I’ll try to pin her down.
The best time to court the muse is just before drifting off to sleep. She’s great at jumping from one dream and landing in another. She’s quite the pest when she has a mind, leaving me no choice but to get up and write. After all that interrupted sleep and worn to a frazzle, I find the tease has left me flat.
Music is the best bait for trapping the muse. She’s partial to groups like the Cocteau Twins, a little Bossa Nova, and anything Billie Eilish. She’s been known to rock out to Jagger and to rap with Eminem. It’s raw emotions that attract her. The dark, theatric In the Nursery lured her into showing up for a Gothic Horror. Too much of a good thing, though, on any given day, causes her to drop in her tracks. There is such a thing as playing a song to death.
To tempt the muse back to the land of the living is to let her get her teeth on some juicy research. The more exploration, the merrier she dances. Fact is, she’s kept me up for hours on end. All that food for thought makes her shine, makes her gleam. The trick is to know when to stop. Too much hanging out with her makes me forget to start writing. Then neither of us wins.
When I can’t find the muse for any length of time, I resort to drastic measures. I read lots of poetry, draw pictures, and even write by hand. I search my brain for the right word to jar the muse back into existence. Sleep-deprived, I fall into bed. Just when I think I’ll never see her again, I awake refreshed. Low and behold, there she is in all finery, waiting for me with strong coffee and a swift kick into action. My muse is back!
A little about Undercover in Venice Beach:
By trading places with her twin, Audrey Powell has the opportunity she’s always wanted, running her late mother’s teahouse. When she fails to create food that delights the palate, she hires Liam James—a sexy as sin Brit with a flair for cooking. He tries to seduce her with titillating dishes and his charm, but she’s vowed to steer clear of romance.
Working undercover, Liam’s mission is to keep an eye on the teahouse. He poses as a chef to catch the traitor who is leaking UK security secrets. The last thing he wants to do is fall for a suspect, but when sparks fly, the romance starts to feel all too real.
A peek between the pages:
Liam pointed to the recipe, and when she reluctantly did as instructed, he said, “Add the wet butter and milk to the mix and beat until you get rid of the lumps.”
“Too bad I can’t rid myself of the lumps in my so-called life.”
“You’ll get them smoothed out.” He slid in back of her and took her hand, demonstrating the motion, tempting her to nestle against his chest. His Iron Man chest. “Just keep trying, luv.”
His being so near was torture. “Do I add the fruit now?”
“Aye, the cranberries. You can spot a bad one from the others because it shows a wrinkle.” He picked out a specimen, displaying it to her on his palm. “See, not unlike the line you get between your brows when you’re deep in thought.”
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I do?”
He sent her an all-male grin. “Captivating, actually.”
He wiped flour from her face with a dishrag and plopped some cranberries in her mouth. She bit down, the tangy sweetness thrilling her taste buds, the sexy man challenging her vow to stay clear of him. But the very act of his helping her spoon the batter into tins pulled her deeper into his center, a universe composed of his culinary magic and kindness. His large hands and strong arms made her feel fragile and protected from the outside world. She remained there, a participant in sensations, till the bells over the entrance clanged together like dropped silverware.
Melody lives in Sacramento (the City of Trees). She writes romance novels. She’s partial to poetry, sun, rain, strong coffee, and her writing room surrounded by books. Besides California, she and her late husband lived part-time in a condo in Oregon overlooking the Pacific. That gave her a love for beach towns and whale-watching and sunsets—all the things that inspire the Love is a Beach series. The writing process fascinates her, the alchemy of layering and developing characters, the tinkering with language. There’s so much to treasure in the world: family, friends, and those random, everyday moments that make life grand. She hopes to give her readers all of that.
Please welcome Susie Black, whose cozy mystery, Death by Sample Size, was recently published by The Wild Rose Press. It has garnered some great reviews, so let’s learn all about it!
Thanks so much for joining us, Susie. What inspired you to write this book?
I keep a daily journal and memorialize my impressions of the myriad of interesting, quirky characters I’ve encountered throughout my career as a ladies’ swimwear sales and merchandising executive. I’ve met so many worthy candidates, I decided to write my fictionalized take on them. I jumped at the opportunity to write about the apparel industry from a woman’s point of view.
Have you encountered any of the characters in a dream?
Oh yeah. Several who wanted to kill me for what I did to them in the story.
Oh my! Sounds like a nightmare…or several! On a happier note…if you could give your protagonist, Holly Schlivnik, a word of advice, what would it be?
Always trust your gut and never stop believing in yourself.
Wonderful advice!In general, which do you enjoy writing more: description or dialogue?
As a sales exec, I earn my keep as a professional talker, so no question about it; I enjoy writing dialogue.
So do I. It really flows. What do you love most about being an author?
As a humorous cozy mystery author, I get to knock off characters who in real life I would have loved to eliminate! I found this so cathartic, I recommended it as a therapy method to my psychologist son.
Yes, that could be very therapeutic! What did you think when you first saw the cover of your book?
Truthfully? I cried.
Aww…I understand. 🙂 Since you’re an apparel sales exec, have you thought of any cool marketing ideas or tie-ins to the swimwear industry?
Absolutely yes. It’s funny how often one thing leads to another. When I first got into the swim biz, my smart aleck Nana bought me a coffee mug that said: “Things could be worse. We could be trying on Swimsuits.” Gee, thanks Nana. Nice, huh? Actually, it turned out to be immensely helpful. It shined a light on one of the biggest issues for consumers; the angst many have at the thought of buying a swimsuit and I wrote a fit guidebook that helps consumers find the right swimsuit based on their body type. A critical component of my social media marketing plan is to offer the Holly Swimsuit fit tip of the day with tips from the fit guide. Here is an example of one:
NEED A SWIMSUIT? DON’T PANIC. Holly Swimsuit Daily Fit Tip: A one-piece suit will hide a thick waist. Pick the right suit and pick up Death by Sample Size by fashionista and cozy mystery author Susie Black #cozymysteryauthor#swimsuit#wrpbks
Great idea!Now, tell us a little more about the story:
The last thing swimwear sales exec Holly Schlivnik expected was to discover ruthless buying office big wig Bunny Frank’s corpse trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey with a bikini stuffed down her throat. When Holly’s colleague is arrested for Bunny’s murder, the wise-cracking, irreverent amateur sleuth jumps into action to find the real killer. Nothing turns out the way Holly thinks it will as she matches wits with a wily killer hellbent for revenge. Get ready to laugh out loud as Susie Black’s Death by Sample Size takes you on a rollicking adventure ride through the Los Angeles apparel industry.
A peek between the pages:
When the elevator doors opened, I had to stop myself short not to step on her. There was Bunny Frank-the buying office big shot-lying diagonally across the car. Her legs were splayed out and her back was propped against the corner. Her sightless eyes were wide open and her arms reached out in a come to me baby pose. She was trussed up with shipping tape like a dressed Thanksgiving turkey ready for the oven with a bikini stuffed in her mouth. A Gotham Swimwear hangtag drooped off her lower lip like a toe tag gone lost. Naturally, I burst out laughing.
Before you label me incredibly weird or stone-cold, let me say genetics aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. If you’re lucky you inherit your Aunt Bertha’s sexy long legs or your father’s ability to add a bazillion dollar order in his head and get the total correct to the last penny. Without even breaking into a sweat, it’s easy to spout at least a million fabulous traits inheritable by the luck of the draw. Did I get those sexy long legs or the ability to add more than two plus two without a calculator? Noooooooooo. Lucky me. I inherited my Nana’s fear of death we overcompensated for with the nervous habit of laughing. A hysterical reaction? Think Bozo the clown eulogizing your favorite aunt.
I craned my neck like a tortoise and checked around. Then I clamped a fist over my mouth. Cripes, how could I possibly explain my guffaws with Bunny lying there? Disappointment was simultaneously mixed with relief when there was no one else in the parking lot. Where was security when you needed them?
I toed the elevator door open and bent over Bunny. I’d seen enough CSI episodes to know not to touch her. She was stiff as a board and I attributed the bluish tinge of her skin to the bikini crammed down her throat. I was no doctor, but I didn’t need an MD after my name to make this diagnosis. Bunny Frank was dead as the proverbial doorknob.
It was no surprise Bunny Frank had finally pushed someone beyond their limits. The only surprise was it had taken so long. The question wasn’t who wanted Bunny Frank dead. The question was who didn’t?
Born in the Big Apple, Susie Black calls sunny Southern California home. Like the protagonist in her Holly Swimsuit Mystery Series, Susie is a successful apparel sales executive. Susie began telling stories as soon as she learned to talk. Now she’s telling all the stories from her garment industry experiences in humorous mysteries.
She reads, writes, and speaks Spanish, albeit with an accent that sounds like Mildred from Michigan went on a Mexican vacation and is trying to fit in with the locals. Since life without pizza and ice cream as her core food groups wouldn’t be worth living, she’s a dedicated walker to keep her girlish figure. A voracious reader, she’s also an avid stamp collector. Susie lives with a highly intelligent man and has one incredibly brainy but smart-aleck adult son who inexplicably blames his sarcasm on an inherited genetic defect.
Looking for more? Reach her at mysteries_@authorsusieblack.com
Congrats to Peggy Jaeger, whose new release, Santa Baby, is out today! If you love holiday reads, you’ll want to snap up this sweet romance novella. It’s the prequel to a full-length Christmas book releasing this November. Here’s a little about the story:
It’s Christmas Eve morning in the tiny New England town of Dickens.
Santa’s arrival is imminent, and a hint of snow is in the air.
Amy Dorrit is just about to open her popular diner for the breakfast rush when she discovers an abandoned baby on her back doorstep.
Amy knows she should call the authorities and turn the infant over to them, but she just can’t. Thoughts of her own abandonment as a baby flood through her and she wants to keep the little one out of the hands of the authorities until the mother – hopefully –returns.
But will the mom come back? And if she doesn’t, what is Amy prepared to do about the baby who has, already, claimed her heart?
A peek inside:
As she moved through the breezeway connecting the diner to her apartment, Amy heard a mewling sound at the back alley door. Her cook, Willie, often left scraps out for strays, especially in winter, and sometimes when she took the trash out at the end of the day, Amy would find a mamma cat searching for something to feed her kittens.
Amy opened the door, expecting to see a hungry animal looking for a handout, and got the shock of the century when she found a baby carrier, complete with a crying infant nestled in it.
She gasped, her head flicking right, then left, to find the person responsible for leaving a baby out in the frigid night air.
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
The still sleeping and silent town surrounded her as shoe impressions in the fresh snow indicated the baby hadn’t been there for long.
The infant’s howl echoed in the quiet.
“Oh, you poor thing. Let’s get you out of the cold.”
Peggy Jaeger is a contemporary romance writer who writes Romantic Comedies about strong women, the families who support them, and the men who can’t live without them. If she can make you cry on one page and bring you out of tears rolling with laughter the next, she’s done her job as a writer!
Family and food play huge roles in Peggy’s stories because she believes there is nothing that holds a family structure together like sharing a meal…or two…or ten. Dotted with humor and characters that are as real as they are loving, she brings all topics of daily life into her stories: life, death, sibling rivalry, illness and the desire for everyone to find their own happily ever after. Growing up the only child of divorced parents she longed for sisters, brothers and a family that vowed to stick together no matter what came their way. Through her books, she’s created the families she wanted as that lonely child.
When she’s not writing Peggy is usually painting, crafting, scrapbooking or decoupaging old steamer trunks she finds at rummage stores and garage sales.
As a lifelong diarist, she caught the blogging bug early on, and you can visit her at peggyjaeger.com where she blogs daily about life, writing, and stuff that makes her go “What??!”
Say hello to Kimberly Baer! She’s a talented sister Rose (published by The Wild Rose Press), and her new release, Mall Girl Meets the Shadow Vandal, has received some great reviews. Let’s learn how an unusual house inspired this middle-grade novel. Take it away, Kimberly!
I used to work in the downtown area of a small city. My parking lot was several blocks from my office, so I had a pleasant trek to look forward to twice a day. (Unless it was raining. Or snowing. Or really windy. Or really, really hot. Then it wasn’t so pleasant.) My route included a street with a row of old houses that had been converted into businesses—dental offices, accounting firms, insurance agencies, and the like. Smack-dab in the middle of that row was a single residential house, complete with a front porch swing and a small, grassy yard. For whatever reason, it had never been repurposed as a business.
I used to wonder about the occupants. Why would they choose to live in a business district? Were they as rebellious as their house? What would it be like to grow up there? Eventually, a story took shape. I pictured a pre-teen girl in the starring role. I imagined the challenges she would face growing up with office workers for neighbors instead of families. And at some point I thought, what if her house wasn’t downtown? What if it was in the middle of a shopping mall?
Bingo. That was the twist that launched Mall Girl Meets the Shadow Vandal. I mean, what kid wouldn’t love living in a shopping mall? I thought this would make a really fun setting for a middle-grade mystery novel.
I guess just about anything can spark a story—a daydream, a night dream, a newscast. A person, an experience. And, yes, even a kooky old house that doesn’t fit in with its neighbors!
A little more about Mall Girl Meets the Shadow Vandal:
“A lively, jaunty mystery with a terrific cast of characters.” – Kirkus Reviews
Chloe Lamont doesn’t live in a neighborhood, like most kids. Her house is in the middle of the mall. And now someone is stealing items from her house and using them to vandalize stores. Who is trying to frame her? And how are they getting into the house?
Desperate to catch the real vandal and clear her name, Chloe seeks help from the kids in her Mystery Reading Group at school. While searching for clues, the Mystery Groupers make an astounding discovery. And then things get really crazy…
A peek between the pages:
I hate getting up early, so it’s a blessed relief when Saturday morning rolls around and I get to sleep in.
Then I wake up and find out there’s been another egging.
Mom tells me about it when she comes home at lunchtime. This time Maynard’s Shoes was the victim. A bunch of shoes on display out front got hit. Like last time, the police think the crime took place in the middle of the night.
“How many—” I begin.
“Eight. They used eight eggs.”
We eye each other uneasily. Outside the living room window, a lady says contemptuously, “She acts like she’s the first woman on earth to ever have a baby.”
Mom turns abruptly and heads into the kitchen. I’m right behind her. We park ourselves in front of the refrigerator.
“I bought a new carton on Thursday,” she says, twisting her opal ring around and around on her pinkie. “I haven’t used any eggs at all. If you haven’t either, there should still be a full dozen.”
“I haven’t used any,” I tell her.
She takes a deep breath and tugs open the refrigerator door. She has the grim demeanor of a fourteenth-century villager about to open a vampire’s coffin. She takes out the egg carton and places it on the counter. Gingerly, she lifts the lid.
There are four eggs inside, crowded together at the left end of the carton. The rest of the carton looks starkly empty, like eight tiny bird’s nests emptied of occupants.
“Oh!” Mom clamps a hand over her mouth. “How can this be?”
I can only stare at the carton in silence, dazed by the undeniable truth. Somebody is taking our eggs and using them to attack mall stores. I just don’t know who or how or why.
Mom is looking desperately at me. “Did you drop the carton and maybe break some? It’s okay—I won’t be mad.”
“I didn’t break any eggs. I haven’t touched the carton.”
She paces around the kitchen, taking short, quick steps because it’s a tiny room. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“Somebody’s stealing our eggs,” I say, and that impossible truth sounds even more impossible spoken aloud. “Did you lock all the doors and windows last night? Did you bolt the doors?”
“Of course. Do you still double-check them before you go to bed?”
“Always.” It’s something we’re both paranoid about. The mall is a creepy place at night when nobody’s around. “Were the doors still bolted this morning when you got up?”
She nods.
“Maybe the person came down the chimney,” I say. “Like some kind of evil Santa Claus.”
She takes a moment to think that over. “That would be difficult, to say the least. Going back up would be even harder. And it doesn’t explain how they got into the mall after hours. Besides, why would somebody break into our house just to steal eggs? If they’re going to go to all the trouble of breaking in, why not steal our computer or my jewelry, or—or—” She gestures toward a jar on the kitchen counter. “—the grocery money?”
Mom always makes sure there’s cash on hand in case I need to run to Shop and Save. The jar is in plain sight. I can see the green bills curled inside, two twenties and a ten.
She’s staring at me expectantly, waiting for more theories about how eight eggs just walked out of our refrigerator. But I’m out of ideas.
“That’s it. No more eggs for us,” my mother says fiercely. “I’m just not going to buy them anymore. If we want eggs, we’ll go out to breakfast.”
“Fine by me,” I say.
She pulls out a chair and plops down at the table. “Jack Caldwell will be saying we’re the prime suspects again. After all, we had opportunity.”
“But not motive,” I say, sitting down across from her. “Maynard’s Shoes isn’t your rival. You don’t sell shoes.” I gnaw at a jagged edge of my thumbnail. “This has happened twice now. Don’t you think we should tell the police?”
“No!” she says immediately. Then, with a sigh, “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Look, it’s not like we’re guilty,” I remind her. “We’ll just tell the truth and let the police figure things out. That’s what they do.”
A group of teenage girls giggle outside the kitchen window. A relentlessly crying baby goes by. A lady says, “Whatever happened with that friend of yours who found the nest of opossums in her sock drawer?”
Mom is hunched over the table. She says, in a thin voice, “I’m just afraid if the police find out how much you hate living here, they’ll think you’re the one doing the eggings. To get us evicted.”
I’m so flabbergasted, I’m speechless. For a few seconds, anyway. “I can’t believe you would even say that! You think I’m doing the eggings?”
“Not me. But the police might.”
“Oh, so now you’re playing devil’s advocate. Like Jack Caldwell.”
I know what “playing devil’s advocate” means because I looked it up after Jack said it, after Ram tried to say it. It means “taking the opposing viewpoint for the sake of argument.”
“I’m just trying to think like the police. Trying to consider all the possibilities.”
“Oh, yeah?” I stand up, shoving my chair away. “Well, I know I didn’t do the eggings, and you said nobody could have broken into our house. So that leaves you. You must be the guilty party. How’s that for a possibility?”
And I stomp through the living room and storm out the front door.
I’m excited to welcome Jennifer Wilck, a sister Rose (published by The Wild Rose Press) today! She’s here to talk about her new release, A Reckless Heart, and celebrity crushes. Take it away, Jennifer!
Do you have a favorite celebrity? One who will make you watch whatever they star in, regardless of genre?
As a teenager, it was Tom Selleck. I’d watch him in Magnum, PI and giggle every time he showed up on screen. Considering he was the star of the show, it was frequent.
As an adult, it’s George Clooney. While I don’t giggle over him, I love watching him and listening to him. For my husband, it’s Natalie Portman. He and I have an agreement that if we ever have the opportunity to “be” with either of them, we get a free pass. 🙂 Kidding. Sort of.
And of course, there are celebrities I think of in passing and when I see them on screen I think about how much I enjoy them and whether or not they’d be good inspiration for the heroes of my books—celebrities such as Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Benedict Cumberbatch (yes, we are big Marvel fans in my house).
When it comes to the inspiration for my heroines, I’m less clear. For whatever reason, I don’t typically associate the heroine I create with a celebrity who already exists.
However, that wasn’t completely the case for Meg in A Reckless Heart. I’ve joked with friends that the book is a cross between the Kardashians and Beauty & The Beast (I’ve even pitched it that way on Twitter). No, Meg is NOT one of the Kardashians. Nor is she modeled on them. However, as a former society “It-Girl,” she’s been exposed to people like that. She reaped the benefits and suffered the consequences. So when I created her, I imagined what it would be like to be in that world and suddenly thrown out of it.
I think that’s why, ultimately, I like to dream about my celebrity crushes, but when I do, I place them in much more realistic scenarios. I can’t imagine myself living in their stratosphere. Bringing them down to earth is much more manageable.
So tell me, who is your celebrity crush and why? Would you want to inhabit their world, or welcome them into yours?
A little more about A Reckless Heart:
Meg Thurgood, former society girl, took the blame for her friend and paid a steep price. Now all she wants is solitude and a chance to rebuild her life. She thinks she’s found that in an isolated house she rents from a mysterious stranger.
Simon McAlter has hidden in his house on the coast of Maine since a fire left him scarred. A successful landscape architect who conducts his business and teaches his classes remotely, he’s lost his inspiration and is trying to pretend he’s not lonely.
Simon’s new neighbor is more than he bargained for. When he learns Meg’s secret, will he retreat into the shadows or will he learn to see past the surface and trust in Meg’s love?
A peek between the pages:
“Let’s watch a horror movie.” Meg flopped on the couch and wiggled into the soft cushions.
There was a beat of silence before Simon turned away from her and poked at the logs in the fireplace, sending sparks up the chimney. “I’m not a big fan of horror movies.”
She liked horror movies because the monsters were obviously fake. You didn’t have to dig deep, to wonder about anything. It was black and white. Meg’s heart constricted. She hadn’t thought about it from Simon’s perspective. Did he consider himself a monster? Could this amazing man see himself in those movies? Her throat thickened. She wanted to run away and cry. But he’d think she ran from him. With a deep breath, she sorted through the list of her favorites in her mind and threw away several until she thought of the perfect one.
“How about Dracula?” Her voice rasped past the emotion, but she forged ahead. “The old one. It’s totally cheesy, which makes it funny. ‘I vant to suck your blood!’ ” she said with a fake accent.
“Do you?” he asked.
Returning the poker to the rack, he walked toward her, and held out his arm, wrist up. She took it in her hand. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, his pulse steady, and the hair on the other side of his arm was wiry. She stroked her thumb along the inside of his wrist. His breath stuttered. She wondered what he’d do if she kissed him. Desire flooded through her. Never mind him, what would she do?
“Next time,” she said. She was brave, but maybe not that brave, at least not yet.
Slowly, he lowered his arm to his side, but remained close enough his knees brushed hers. His skin was flushed, his eyes ablaze. Heat pulsed between them. After a moment, he stepped away, as if he wasn’t brave enough either. “Do you want popcorn?”
Jennifer started telling herself stories as a little girl when she couldn’t fall asleep at night. Pretty soon, her head was filled with these stories and the characters that populated them. Even as an adult, she thinks about the characters and stories at night before she falls asleep or walking the dog. Eventually, she started writing them down. Her favorite stories to write are those with smart, sassy, independent heroines; handsome, strong and slightly vulnerable heroes; and her stories always end with happily ever after.
In the real world, she’s the mother of two amazing daughters and wife of one of the smartest men she knows. When she’s not writing, she loves to laugh with her family and friends, is a pro at finding whatever her kids lost in plain sight, and spends way too much time closing doors that should never have been left open in the first place. She believes humor is the only way to get through the day and does not believe in sharing her chocolate.
She writes contemporary romance, some of which are mainstream and some of which involve Jewish characters. She’s published with The Wild Rose Press and all her books are available through Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
Today’s the day! Return of the Raven, the last of The Novels of Ravenwood, is now available worldwide. Although it’s sad to say good-bye to beloved characters and their world, I’m excited to share this final story with you. It ties the whole series together and answers lingering questions from the previous four books. Still, like the others in the series, Return of the Raven can stand alone.
It’s a big day, so you can find me at a number of places. I’m starting a month-long tour with Silver Dagger Book Tours. Check it out here and enter to win a $15 Amazon gift card.
N. N. Light’s Book Heaven is doing a new release spotlight here.
Author Mary Morgan is hosting me on her blog, where I’m talking about how it feels to finish a series. We’d love for you to join us here.
And last but not least, author Jennifer Wilck is hosting me on her blog, where I’m revealing the inspiration for my hero and heroine. Read all about it here.
Now, here’s the story:
Margaret, Lady Ravenwood, is trapped in a loveless marriage and firmly entrenched in the medieval world. Along comes Griffin Nightshade, a historian from the future whose soul resonates with hers. He persuades her to return with him to the 1950s, but heeding her heart means courting danger from a curse that could spell her doom.
Haunted by his parents’ sudden deaths, Griffin knows all too well the pain born of love lost. He guards his emotions, but Margaret delves deep and goes straight to the soul. She’s hard to resist…and harder to set free.
The heart’s desire and history’s demands don’t always agree. Yet true love is eternal.
A peek between the pages:
Held in the ballroom of a nearby hotel, the after-party boasted a band of musicians, savory food, a variety of drinks, and a three-tier, white-frosted cake. After consuming a sizeable portion of said cake and a goodly amount of fruit punch, Margaret sat beside Griffin against the wall, watching the other guests and the happy couple interact.
The bride and groom took to the dance floor and moved as though they were one body, which in essence they now were. Frank and Hannah also danced, talking and laughing as they often did around the manor.
Oh to be so happily joined with another. If only…
There it was again: the recurring, inevitable “if only.” Her nights were full of them. She lay in bed staring up at the darkened canopy, wishing he were there beside her. Perhaps ʼtwas wanton and wrong, or by some standards, ridiculous.
But the heart wants what it wants. Hers wanted Griffin. Not just for a day or even a year but forever. She loved him. ʼTwas as simple—and as complicated—as that.
He turned to her now, and his warm, brown eyes sparkled with an invitation. “Shall we dance?”
Her stomach dropped. “I don’t know how.”
He gestured to the dancing couples. “Look at the other women. And see that little boy and girl? If they can do it, so can we. You’ll put your left hand on my shoulder, and your right hand will hold mine. Then you’ll move your feet when I do. Don’t worry. I’ll guide you.”
“Well…” The need to touch him, to feel his hands on her again, outweighed her doubt. “I’ll try.”
He led her to the dance floor, and she did as he instructed. Leisurely, they began to move.
Always the teacher. What might I learn in your bed?
Heat flushed her cheeks. Thankfully, the dance was slow; perfect for a beginner such as she. But the gentle pace enfolded them in a mantle of intimacy.
“This song is called ‘When I Fall in Love.’” His voice was soft and low.
“Fall?”
He nodded in silence.
Aye, ʼtis very much like falling. Like stepping off the side of a cliff. Once you take that step, there’s no turning back and no stopping what’s to come.
What would come of her feelings? Heartache? “The melody is pleasing.”
“I’ve always thought so.”
She looked up at him and gazed into his eyes. “You were right. Dancing isn’t as difficult as I thought.” A grin escaped her lips. “Of course, ʼtwould be easier in different shoes.” Her “kitten heels” turned every step into a dare.
His smile stole her breath. “They’re not very practical, are they?”
“No. Nor are they comfortable.” She longed to kick them off and wiggle her cramped toes, but that must wait till later.
“You look lovely, though.”
Suddenly, the discomfort seemed worthwhile, and her heart shifted to a rhythm livelier than their dance. “Thank you. You look good yourself.”
“Thank you. You smell nice, too. Roses?”
“Aye.” His scent seemed an intoxicating mixture of nutmeg, cinnamon, and musk. “A new bubble bath.”
“I trust you had a better experience this time around.”
She gave him a rueful grin. “Easier perhaps, but not better. You weren’t there.”
His eyes darkened, beckoned her into their depths. “Meg.” He sounded breathless.
Her heart fluttered. “I should’ve made some excuse to summon you again. Would you have come?”
“I would have.”
“Would you have helped me from the tub?”
“If you needed help.”
Everything else in the ballroom faded into insignificance. There was only him. “What if I needed another kiss?”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “No one needs a kiss.”
“I beg to differ.” She needed so much more than that. Her stomach quivered. “But mayhap I should beg for something else.”
“Such as?” His husky voice caressed her ears.
“Use your imagination, Griff. You’ll think of something.”
He pulled her closer. The heat of his body mingled with hers. “You really shouldn’t say such things.”
“Why not? I’m thinking them.” And feeling things I never dreamed I could. Until you.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re dangerous.”
She winced. “And you’re on my foot.”
“Oh!” The pressure on her toes eased as he removed his foot. The song ended, and they stilled. “Forgive me. I’m a bit…flustered.”
You’re also irresistible. “I know how you can make amends.”
I’m excited to share with you the latest novella by Kristal Dawn Harris, a sister Rose (published by The Wild Rose Press). If you love paranormal romance and/or vampire fiction, you’ll want to check out Rise for Me, which releases on February 1st. Here’s the scoop on the story:
A peek Vampire and warlock, Roman Lee, spent centuries alone as ringmaster of the carnival. After befriending and healing a scarred, young woman, Roman realizes Mariah is his mate. He waits for her, but when she departs from his life, his torture knows no bounds. Now he’s risen, unforgiving and angry, forced from his grave by the one woman who captured his heart, but will another secret and the call of his mate change everything?
The steady call of Roman’s blood and the promise of peace brings Mariah Stone home to the carnival and the vampire she left behind. He ignores her until she forces him from the grave with her blood. His anger crushes her already broken spirit, but she is determined to win Roman’s forgiveness and free him from their bond. Denied passion leads them down a path of magic and desire, while a devastating secret threatens eternal love.
A peek between the pages:
Roman studied the perfection before him with something akin to regret filling his spirit. It should have been different between them. He momentarily questioned his decision before setting the ruby stone on her bedside table. In a whisper, he began to chant the words that would strengthen their connection and seal Mariah’s healing so it couldn’t be undone by anyone, ever.
Blood exchanged will seal my gift The flesh will stay, no spell will lift Let the night be filled with dreams So she won’t remember it was me
Roman lifted his hands, palms up, to begin the next part of the spell using the stone, but when Mariah moved in her sleep and threw one leg out from under the covers, he didn’t know if he could do it. Bare flesh, creamy and soft, slid along the quilt as Mariah moaned in her sleep and spoke his name. A dull light formed inside the ruby stone, strengthening with Mariah’s moans. Roman closed his eyes against the onslaught of desire brushing against his body and soul. It sought entrance, control, and a response. She must be dreaming of him. It was the only explanation. His eyes snapped open when the bed creaked. Heavy-lidded, sleepy eyes opened with a reddish glow lighting their dark depths.
“Mariah?” Roman spoke her name as a question, not fully understanding what was happening, but the stone did. Brilliant red light shot from the ruby’s rough edges, saturating the walls, the floors, and everything in between in its glow. Roman tilted his face as Mariah rose from her reclined position to sit on the side of the bed. A trickle of unease sped down his spine. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Mariah was using the stone against him, and her desire magnified his own, fed off it, and seduced in strong waves. Roman groaned as his cock swelled painfully and his body clenched with need.
“Do you come to me as a warlock, vampire, or as man?”
The question was asked so softly Roman wasn’t sure he heard her voice. Mariah’s eyes blazed with color. She was a temptress, a woman bent on crushing what remained of his heart, and he hated her for it. Roman pinched the bridge of his nose when the truth reared its ugly head, forcing him to accept what was meant to be. He craved her like no other. This would be the one and only night they ever spent together. The spell was cast, and she shouldn’t remember anything, so for once, he let the caged passion soar. “I come to you as all three.”
Kristal Dawn Harris is an award-winning, Rone nominated, American romance author. She has been married for 27 years and has two children. Kristal finished a degree from Miami University in Accounting Technology, but quickly realized she preferred words over numbers. She is an avid reader and, in particular, loves darker paranormal romance. Her hobbies include coin collecting, physical fitness, stained-glass art (beginner), poetry, and song writing.
Kristal primarily writes for her publisher, The Wild Rose Press, although it should be noted she has self-released several books. She writes paranormal, fantasy, erotic, as well as contemporary romance in different lengths.
Fun facts:
Favorite color: Red
Favorite Movie: Under the Tuscan Sun
Favorite Paranormal Author: Christine Feehan
Favorite ice cream: Butter Pecan or Mint Choc Chip
Favorite Chocolate: Dark chocolate
Favorite Candy: Sea Salt Caramel Chocolate
Favorite Vacation: Badlands, South Dakota
Favorite Genre Romance: Historical romance
Favorite female actor: Kate Winslet
Favorite male actor: Alexander Skarsgard
Favorite TV shows: Ancient Aliens, What on Earth, UFO Files, The Abandoned,The Unexplained. (I’m a true nerd, and embrace it fully…lol)
Judith Sterling 