Saturday, July 29, 2017




The first novel in a frisky new mystery series set in a small New England town, where an unlikely citizen is called in to solve the purrfect crime . . .

Maddie James has arrived in Daybreak Island, just off the coast of Massachusetts, eager to settle down and start her own business―and maybe even fall in love. When a stray orange tabby pounces into her life, she’s inspired to open a cat café. But little does Maddie know that she’s in for something a lot more catastrophic when her new furry companion finds the dead body of the town bully. Now all eyes are on Maddie: Who is this crazy cat-whisperer lady who’s come to town? If pet-hair-maintenance and crime-fighting weren’t keeping her busy enough, Maddie now has not one but two eligible bachelors who think she’s the cat’s pajamas . . . and will do anything to win her heart. But how can she even think about happily-ever-after while a killer remains on the loose―and on her path?


Things you need in order to write:
Coffee, potato chips, my dog.
Things that hamper your writing:
Social media, my day job, Gilmore Girls reruns

Things you love about writing:
The act of creation.
Things you hate about writing:
Being stuck in the middle.

Hardest thing about being a writer:
Easiest thing about being a writer:
Seeing my books in the bookstore

Things you love about where you live:
Spring, summer, fall.
Things that make you want to move:

Words that describe you:
Work-in-progress, healing, loving, willing to change.
Words that describe you but you wish they didn’t:
Impatient, procrastinator.

Favorite foods:
Sushi, potato chips, green juice, French fries.
Things that make you want to throw up: 

Favorite music:
I love lots of music! Jazz, pop, 80s, classical.
Music that make your ears bleed:

Favorite beverage:
Something that gives you a pickle face:

Favorite smell:
Pipe smoke, incense, hot apple cider, fall.

Something that makes you hold your nose:
Old, cheap beer.

Things you always put in your books:
Dogs and cats!

Things you never put in your books:
Killing an animal.

Things to say to an author:
I loved your last book!

Things to say to an author if you want to be fictionally killed off in their next book:
I have an idea for a bestseller - can you write it for me?

Favorite places you’ve been:
London, Key West.

Places you never want to go to again:
That scary motel in West Virginia.

People you’d like to invite to dinner:
Dennis Lehane, Lee Child, Tana French
People you’d cancel dinner on:
Some of my former co-workers.

Favorite things to do:
Write, read, yoga, shop.

Things you’d run through a fire wearing gasoline pants to get out of doing:
Anything mathematical, yard work, shoveling snow.


Liz Mugavero writes the Pawsitively Organic Mysteries, the first of which was an Agatha Award nominee for Best First Novel. The sixth book in the series, Purring Around the Christmas Tree, is out in October of this year. As Cate Conte, Liz also writes the Cat Cafe Mysteries, the first of which, Cat About Town, will be released August 1. She lives in Connecticut with her rescue pals.

Connect with Cate:
Website  |  Facebook    

Buy the book:
Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble

Friday, July 28, 2017



New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Shelley Shepard Gray delivers the next novel in her Amish of Hart County series—a suspenseful tale of an Amish man who will risk all to protect the woman he loves.
Mark Fisher has returned home to Hart County, determined to put the past behind him. Two years ago, after being wrongly accused of assault, he left the Amish community, though never forgot his home. When the one person who had helped him through his rough times asks for help, Mark returns. But it is pretty Waneta Cain who makes him want to stay…
Neeta is one of the few people in Hart County who doesn’t believe Mark is guilty of hurting anyone. However, his worldliness and tough exterior do make her uneasy. As she begins to see the real man behind all the gossip and prejudice, she wonders if he is the man for her.
Just when Mark starts to believe a new life is possible, a close friend of Neeta’s is attacked. Once again, everyone in the community seems to believe he is guilty. But what hurts most is Neeta’s sudden wariness around him. When another woman is hurt, a woman who is close to both Neeta and himself, Mark fears he knows the real culprit. And time is running out. Will Mark be able to find him before Neeta becomes his next victim?


Chapter 1

Horse Cove, Kentucky
August 4

He was watching her again.
    As she handed her customer change across the counter of the Blooms and Berries nursery, Waneta Cain did her best to pretend that their newest employee was not inordinately interested in everything she did. He was simply observant.
    Surely, it was just her imagination playing tricks on her anyway. Mark Fisher was probably trying to see how she handled the checkout counter. She used to watch Mr. Lehmann all the time when she’d first started at the nursery.
    That had to be the reason.
    “Thanks for your help, Neeta,” Mr. Killian said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’d be lost without you.”
    “I’m simply glad I could help ya,” she told the Englisher with a bright smile as he lifted his box of seedlings from the wide well-worn countertop. “See ya soon.”
    The man tipped his ball cap. “You sure will if I can’t get these to bear fruit. Wish me luck.”
    “Good luck and good blessings, too.” After helping him with the door, she let it close behind her with a satisfying thunk.
    She chuckled to herself. That Mr. Killian was a terrible gardener but a frequent customer. She sincerely hoped that one day he would develop that green thumb he wanted so badly.
    “Do you always act that way?”
    A shiver coursed through her as she turned.
    Meeting Mark’s dark-brown eyes, which seemed to be studying her intently, she struggled to appear calm. “Like what?”
    Mark stepped away from the row of metal shelves located in the back of the store. He’d been unpacking boxes and restocking shelves for the last hour. Methodically sorting and organizing merchandise while she helped customers. “Like they’re your friends,” he replied. “Like you’re so happy to see them.” Stepping closer, he lifted his shoulder. “Is that how you really are… or is that just an act?”
    She didn’t care for the way he seemed to be insinuating that she wasn’t genuine. “It’s not an act. Mr. Killian is in her a lot. He’s nice. We are friends.”
    “He’s English and must be fifty years old.”
    “I don’t see how that matters. I can like people who are different than me.”
    “Maybe you can. But you were sure smiling at him a lot. Or do you do that on purpose? To make sure that he will return?”
    His question made her uncomfortable, but his sarcastic tone made her angry. “I don’t know why you are asking such things. I really don’t like what you are suggesting. I’m not doing anything out of the ordinary or smiling at customers in any special way. I’m just being my regular self.”
    “Huh. So you treat everyone with smiles and kindness. You are friends with all sorts of people. Even people who are different from you. Except me.”
    “I’ve been perfectly amiable to you,” she retorted. Except, of course, that was a lie.
    “I don’t think so,” Mark murmured. “I’ve been her seven hours, four of them barely six feet away from you.”
    She knew that. She’d known exactly where he was every moment they’d been together. “And?”
    “And during all that time you’ve hardly said ten words to me. You sure aren’t smiling at me.”
    She opened her mouth, closed it again. What could she say? He wasn’t wrong.
    Mark stepped closer, invading her space. She could see the fine brown hairs on his forearms now. Noticed that he hadn’t shaved in a day or two.
    “Is it because I was taken in for questioning?” he asked quietly, his dark-brown eyes watching her, as if he feared she would run. “Or, is it just me? Do you not want anything to do with me, Waneta?”
    Her palms were sweating. She fisted both as she tried to come up with an answer. He was right on all accounts. She was uneasy around him.
    Fact was, Mark Fisher was a large man. Tall and well-muscled. He had a rough way about him, too. It was disconcerting.
    Of course, she’d always felt uneasy around him. He’d been an angry teenager, always glaring and short-tempered with most everyone. After he finished school, he’d worked for a few people around town. Rumor had it that his brother, Calvin, had taken off as soon as their mother did. Mark had even lived in Mr. Lehmann’s home for a time, until he was taken in for questioning about Bethany’s assault.
    And after he was questioned, then let go for insufficient evidence, he disappeared for two years.
    Now he was back.
    Mr. Lehmann assured her that Mark hadn’t done anything wrong, but a lot of people in the community still believed that he was the masked man who’d beaten Bethany Williams. It wasn’t much of a stretch. Bethany had told lots of people that her assailant was over six feet tall and was very strong. But she also said she wasn’t able to identify the man.
    Few other details had circulated after that. Then Bethany and her family moved up north, practically the moment she was released from the hospital.
    Realizing Mark was still waiting, Waneta said, “I haven’t spoken to you much because we don’t’ know each other.”
    His eyes narrowed. “But that’s not really true. We knew each other once. We did go to the same Amish school.”
    “You were ahead of me in school. We hardly talked then.” He was only three years older than herself, but they were miles apart in terms of how they’d lived their lives. He’d also been the kind of boy she’d been a little scared of. He was rough and always seemed so angry.
    For a second, he looked dumbfounded. “So, you do remember.”
    “Of course I remember you and your brother, Calvin. Our school wasn’t that big, Mark.” Feeling pretty good about how self-assured she was sounding, Neeta folded her arms across her chest. “But that was a long time ago. Years have gone by.”
    “Yeah. You’re right,” he said slowly. “Years have gone by. Practically a whole lifetime.”
    He sounded so sad. She wondered what was going through his head. Did he regret hurting Bethany? And what had been doing for the two years since it all happened? Why had he even come back to Horse Cave? Surely, there were other, far better places to start over.
    The door jangled as a couple came in. Like Mr. Killian, they were regular customers. James and Katie Eicher were Amish and lived on a large farm on the outskirts of town.
    Glad for the reprieve, she smiled at them. “Hiya, Katie. James. How can I help you?”
    Just as Katie was about to answer, her husband put a hand on her arm. “Go wait in the buggy, Kate.”
    Katie looked at her husband in confusion, then blanched when she caught sight of Mark. Without a word, she turned and walked back out the door.
    When it closed again, James glared at Mark. “What are you doing here?”
    Mark lifted his chin. “I work here.”
    “Is that true, Neeta?” James asked. “Did Henry actually hire him?”
    “Jah. Today is Mark’s first day.” Unsure how to handle his anger, she cleared his throat. “Now, um, how may I help you?”
    “Where is Henry?”
    She looked around the room, which was a ridiculous exercise, seeing as it was perfectly obvious that Mr. Lehmann was not there.
    “He’s out back,” Mark said, pointing to one of the four large greenhouses behind the retail store. “You want me to go get him for ya?”
    “I don’t want you to do a thing for me,” James said. “I’ll go find him myself.”
    Mark rocked back on his heels. “Suit yourself.”
    Neeta winced at his flippant tone.
    James, however, looked irate. Pointing a finger at him, James said, “I’m telling you now, Fisher. You stay far away from my wife. Don’t talk to her. Don’t even look at her.”
    Instead of looking cowed, the corners of Mark’s lips lifted. “Or what?”
    “Or I’ll do everything I can to ensure that you leave here for good.”
    Mark narrowed his eyes. “Are you threatening me?”
    Ignoring Mark again, James turned to her. “I can’t believe you are working in here with him. Do your parents even know?”
    Before she could say that they did not, James strode out the door. It slammed in his wake.
    For a good couple of seconds, Neeta stared at the door. She tried to calm herself, especially since she’d just realized that her hands were shaking.
    Why was she so rattled? Was it because she was afraid of Mark Fisher?
    Or because James’s anger had been so scorching?
    “You never answered him,” Mark said from behind her, startling her out of her dark thoughts. “Do your parents know that you are working here with me?”
    “Why not?” he asked. “Is it because you’re afraid that they’ll want you to stay far, far away from the dangerous Mark Fisher, too?”
    Before she could answer, the door opened again. This time it brought in Mr. Lehmann.
    He looked from Mark to her and signed. “I came to check on how you two are doing after James Eicher’s visit. It doesn’t look like you’re doing too gut.”
    “I’m fine, Mr. Lehmann,” she said. “But, um, well, it’s four o’clock.”
    “Which means it’s time for you to get on him,” he said with a kind smile. “Grab your things and get on your way. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
    She smiled weakly as she turned toward the back storage room, where her belongings were stowed. For the first time since she’s started working at the nursery, returning to work filled her with dread.
    She didn’t trust Mark. Worse, she didn’t trust herself when she was around him.


Shelley Shepard Gray is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, a finalist for the American Christian Fiction Writers prestigious Carol Award, and a two-time HOLT Medallion winner. She lives in southern Ohio, where she writes full-time, bakes too much, and can often be found walking her dachshunds on her town’s bike trail.

Connect with Shelley:

Buy the book:

| Barnes & Noble  | Goodreads

Thursday, July 27, 2017



What is it like to hold the beating heart of a two-day old child in your hand?  What is it like to counsel distraught parents as they make some of the most difficult decisions of their lives?

Noted pediatric heart surgeon Dr. Kristine Guleserian has opened up her OR, and her career, to author Mark Oristano to create Surgeon’s Story - Inside OR-6 With a top Pediatric Heart Surgeon

Dr. Guleserian’s life, training and work are discussed in detail, framed around the incredibly dramatic story of a heart transplant operation for a two-year-old girl whose own heart was rapidly dying.  Author Mark Oristano takes readers inside the operating room to get a first-hand look at pediatric heart surgeries most doctors in America would never attempt.

That’s because Dr. Guleserian is recognized as one of the top pediatric heart surgeons in America, one of a very few who have performed a transplant on a one-week old baby. Dr. Guleserian (Goo-liss-AIR-ee-yan) provided her expertise, and Oristano furnished his writing skills, to produce A Surgeon’s Story.

As preparation to write this stirring book, Oristano spent hours inside the operating room at Children’s Medical Center in Dallas watching Guleserian perform actual surgeries that each day were life or death experiences. Readers will be with Dr. Guleserian on her rounds, meeting with parents, or in the Operating Room for a heart transplant.

Oristano is successful sportscaster and photographer and has made several appearances on stage as an actor. He wrote his first book A Sportscaster’s Guide to Watching Football: Decoding America’s Favorite Game, and continues to volunteer at Children’s Medical Center.

“We hear a lot about malpractice and failures in medical care,” says Oristanto, “but I want my readers to know that parts of the American health care system work brilliantly. And our health care system will work even better if more young women would enter science and medicine and experience the type of success Dr. Guleserian has attained.”

Readers will find all the drama, intensity, humor and compassion that they enjoy in their favorite fictionalized medical TV drama, but the actual accounts in Surgeon’s Story are even more compelling. One of the key characters in the book is 2-year-old Rylynn who was born with an often fatal disorder called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome and was successfully treated by Dr. Guleserian.


Things you need in order to write: 
Things that hamper your writing: 
I write at home, so the refrigerator, the washer/dryer, the dishes in the sink, etc.

Things you love about writing: Telling stories.
Things you hate about writing:
It can get lonely.

Things you love about where you live:
Dallas. Halfway between both coasts.
Things that make you want to move: 
Dallas. The summers.

Things you never want to run out of:
Coffee Fools Dark French Roast Whole Bean
Things you wish you’d never bought:
My first leather couch.

Favorite foods:
Italian. Good steaks.
Things that make you want to throw up: 

Favorite music:
Anything Broadway (I perform in musicals).
Music that make your ears bleed: 

Something you wish you could do:
Play jazz piano.
Something you wish you’d never learned to do:
Change my own oil.

People you consider as heroes:

People with a big L on their foreheads:

Last best thing you ate:
Bone-in ribeye steak.

Last thing you regret eating:
Coconut cream pie for desert after bone-in ribeye.

Things you always put in your books: 
Things you never put in your books: 

Favorite places you’ve been:

Sydney, Australia. Santorini, Greece. London, England.

Places you never want to go to again:

Things that make you happy: 
Working with kids
Things that drive you crazy:
Working with adults who act like kids.



The first task is to examine the heart to see if the preoperative diagnosis is correct. Dr. G uses delicate instruments to retract portions of the tricuspid valve and examine the extent of the defect of the ventricular septum, the wall between the two ventricles. She determines the exact size and shape of the VSD and trims the segment of pericardium she saved earlier in preservative. She cuts miniscule pieces of the pericardial tissue and sutures them along the walls of the VSD, creating anchor points for the actual covering. Each suturing is an intricate dance of fingers and forceps, needle and thread. Dr. G works with a small, hooked needle, grasping it with forceps, inserting the needle through the tissue, releasing and re-gripping with the forceps, pulling the hair-thin suture through, using a forceps in her other hand to re-grip the needle again and repeat. The pericardial tissue being sewn over the VSD has to be secure, and it has to stand up to the pressure of blood pumping through Claudia’s heart at the end of the operation. This isn’t like repairing knee ligaments, which can rest without use and heal slowly. Claudia’s heart is going to restart at the end of this operation, and whatever has been sewn into it has to hold, and work, the first time. The VSD repair involves cautious work around the tricuspid valve, and their proximity is a concern because the valve opens and closes along the ventricular septum with each beat. Dr. G and her team find that it’s preferable to actually divide the cords of the tricuspid valve to better expose the VSD. After the patch is fully secured, the tricuspid valve is repaired.

Things don’t go as smoothly during the attempt to repair the pulmonary valve. When Dr. G looks inside Claudia’s heart she discovers that the pulmonary valve is not nearly large enough, and it’s malformed. It only has two flaps where there should be three. She repairs it by what she later says is “just putting in a little transannular patch.”

Here’s what it’s like to “just” put a transannular patch on the pulmonary artery of a child as small as Claudia:
First, take a piece of well-cooked elbow macaroni. Tuck it away in a bowl of pasta that has a bit of residual marinara sauce still floating around in it. Take several different sized knitting needles. Slowly, without damaging the macaroni, insert one of the knitting needles into it to see if you can gauge the width of the macaroni on which you’re operating. Then using a delicate, incredibly sharp blade, cut a small hole in the piece of elbow macaroni, maybe a little larger than the height of one of the letters on the page in front of you. Now use pliers to pick up a small needle with thread as fine as human hair in it. Use another pliers to pick up a tiny piece of skin that looks like it was cut from an olive, so thin that light shines through it. Take the needle and sew the olive skin on to the hole you’ve cut in the piece of macaroni. When you’re finished sewing, hook up the piece of macaroni to a comparable size tube coming from the faucet on the kitchen sink, and see if you can run some water through the macaroni without the patch leaking.

That’s the food analogy. Those are the dimensions Dr. G worked with as she patched Claudia’s pulmonary artery. She made it a little wider to give it a chance to work more efficiently, to transport more blood with less blockage, requiring less work for the right ventricle so that the built-up heart muscle could return to a more normal size. It wasn’t the repair she’d planned to make, but it was the most suitable under the circumstances, and it gave Claudia her best chance.

Before restoring Claudia’s natural circulation, the team makes certain that no air is in the heart or the tubes from the pump, because it could be pumped up to the brain. Air in the brain is not a safe thing. When all the repairs are completed, Claudia is rewarmed and weaned from the bypass machine. She was on pump for 114 minutes and her aorta was clamped for 77 minutes, not an extraordinary length of time in either case.

Claudia’s heart starts up on its own, with a strong rhythm. With her heart beating again the beeps, and the peaks and valleys on her monitor return. All is well. An echo technician wheels a portable machine into the OR and puts a sensor down Claudia’s throat where it lodges behind her heart to perform a transesophageal echo —a more detailed view than the normal, external echo. Everything looks good. Chest drains are put in to handle post-operative drainage, and wires are placed for external pacemakers, should anything go wrong with Claudia’s heart rhythm during her recovery from surgery. Dr. G draws Claudia’s ribcage back together with stainless steel wires, perfectly fastened and tightly tucked down.

Claudia and the surgical team return to the CVICU, and Dr. G monitors her reentry to the unit, making sure the nurses understand Claudia’s condition and the proper procedures to be followed for the next 24 hours. From there, Dr. G enters a small room tucked away from the noise of the unit to meet with the family. Claudia’s mother, father, and aunt are waiting. Dr. G sees Mom wiping tears away.

“Are you crying? Oh, no, no need to be crying, everything is fine.” Her wide smile reassured Mom who put away her tissues.


Mark Oristano has been a professional writer/journalist since the age of 16.

After growing up in suburban New York, Oristano moved to Texas in 1970 to attend Texas Christian University.  A major in Mass Communications, Mark was hired by WFAA-TV in 1973 as a sports reporter, the start of a 30-year career covering the NFL and professional sports.

Mark has worked with notable broadcasters including Verne Lundquist, Oprah Winfrey and as a sportscaster for the Dallas Cowboys Radio Network and Houston Oilers Radio Network.  He has covered Super Bowls and other major sports events throughout his career.  He was part of Ron Chapman’s legendary morning show on KVIL-FM in Dallas for nearly 20 years.

In 2002 Oristano left broadcasting to pursue his creative interests, starting a portrait photography business and becoming involved in theater including summer productions with Shakespeare Dallas. He follows his daughter Stacey’s film career who has appeared in such shows as Friday Night Lights and Bunheads.

A veteran stage actor in Dallas, Mark Oristano was writer and performer for the acclaimed one-man show “And Crown Thy Good: A True Story of 9/11.”

Oristano authored his first book, A Sportscaster’s Guide to Watching Football: Decoding America’s Favorite Game. A Sportcaster’s Guide offers inside tips about how to watch football, including stories from Oristano’s 30-year NFL career, a look at offense, defense and special teams, and cool things to say during the game to sound like a real fan.

In 2016 Oristano finished his second book, Surgeon’s Story, a true story about a surgeon that takes readers inside the operating room during open heart surgery. His second book is described as a story of dedication, talent, training, caring, resilience, guts and love.

In 1997, Mark began volunteering at Children’s Medical Center in Dallas, working in the day surgery recovery room. It was at Children’s that Mark got to know Kristine Guleserian, MD, first to discuss baseball, and later, to learn about the physiology, biology, and mystery of the human heart. That friendship led to a joint book project, Surgeon’s Story, about Kristine’s life and career.

Mark is married and has two adult children and two grandchildren.

Connect with Mark:
Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter

Buy the book: 

Barnes & Noble  

Mark Oristano is giving away a $25 Amazon Gift Card!

Terms & Conditions:
•    By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
•    One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card.
•    This giveaway ends midnight July 28.
•    Winner will be contacted via email on July 29.
•    Winner has 48 hours to reply.
Good luck everyone!

Sunday, July 23, 2017



The only thing standing between Georgia and her fairy-tale wedding is a murder. Or two.
When a young woman pleads for help from Georgia Fenchurch in locating a missing Crown investigator, Georgia resists. Her wedding is only a week away. Before she can say no, she’s knocked to the ground by an assailant attempting to kill the young woman.

Georgia now feels she must help. She soon finds herself up to her wedding veil in stolen treasure and coded letters. With the Duke of Blackford’s help, Georgia follows a trail of missing men and dead bodies. Every victim had one thing in common – a desire to possess a fortune in gold.

In between the society balls and social calls of late Victorian London, Georgia works on her last case before the big day. Will she stop a ruthless killer in time? Or will Georgia find getting to the altar on time is going to be murder?


My parents read a lot of history and biography as well as mysteries by the British masters, Christie, Sayer, Marsh, Allingham, and the rest. Being surrounded by this as a child led me to set my mystery stories in the past. Research for the Victorian Bookshop Mysteries has been a pleasure.

I didn’t realize when I read Roger Owen’s biography of Lord Cromer that I was reading the basis of the latest Victorian Bookshop Mystery, The Detecting Duchess. Cromer, part of a cadre of imperial administrators and leaders at the heyday of the British empire, spent a good part of his working career in Cairo. This included the late 1890’s, when he was the Consul-General, the ranking British official in Cairo.

The book is full of details on Egyptian finances, taxation, agriculture, and education. It explains how the Egyptians paid back the huge debt they labored under after the construction of the Suez Canal. The debt payment dates and amounts in 1897, the Queen’s birthday celebrations, and the European return to Europe and cooler weather in the summer all led to the sinister plot that Georgia must solve in The Detecting Duchess.

I had been asked by several readers to give them the story of Georgia’s wedding. Could Georgia get ready for her wedding and solve a plot of theft and murder at the same time? Since the suspects could well be in London, or at least England, in the summer following the theft, she wouldn’t have to leave town to investigate. Would she try to puzzle out the solution to the theft and murders? Surely. Could she accomplish this in her last week as an unmarried woman? That is the story you’ll find in The Detecting Duchess.


Kate Parker grew up reading her mother's collection of mystery books by Christie, Sayers, and others. Now she can't write a story without someone being murdered, and everyday items are studied for their lethal potential. It's taken her years to convince her husband that she hasn't poisoned dinner; that funny taste is because she just can't cook. The five books in her Victorian Bookshop Mystery series are currently available, as are the first two books in her Deadly series. She may be found at and

Connect with Kate:

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Goodreads 

Buy the book:

Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble 

Wednesday, July 19, 2017



In high school, Charlotte Windham was a typical student going through an awkward phase -- glasses and all. She harbored a crush on Garrett Stephens, the teen heartthrob everyone can’t help but fall for during that unfortunate ugly duckling phase of one’s teen years. Flash forward fifteen years later, and Charlotte and Garrett have a second chance encounter at a Los Angeles restaurant. However, this time around, Charlotte has leveled the playing field. She’s a bestselling novelist and no longer “Glasses,” the humiliating nickname Garrett called her in high school. In short, she’s a catch now and, thanks to corrective eye surgery, it’s not just her eyes that see better…so does her heart! Garrett hasn’t fared poorly either, transforming from teen heartbreaker to adult lothario. A now successful professional golfer, he’s recently suffered a major setback in the form of a possible career-ending injury. With the upper hand, can Charlotte forgive Garrett for his past ways, and for his more recent Don Juan lifestyle? Will she even want to? And, can Garrett change his ways for a second chance with Charlotte, who may just be the perfect fit for him? 


Hardest thing about being a writer:
Self-motivating. It is so easy to get distracted with all of the other fun things to do in life such as grocery shopping, online banking, and laundry.

Easiest thing about being a writer:
The uniform. Nothing's better than being productive in a cozy pair of sweatpants and slippers.

Things you love about where you live:
I live less than two miles from the beach and love being able to see the ocean every day, take a walk along the beach and enjoy the sea air.
Things that make you want to move:
Because my little beach town is so lovely, we endure lots of traffic and parking woes due to people wanting to visit.

Words that describe you:
I've always been described as "nice" and now that I'm a parent and living in a world where kindness seems to be in short supply, it's a label I'm proud to wear.
Words that describe you but you wish they didn’t:
"Nice." I've joked in the past that my tombstone will read, "Here lies Lisa Becker. A very nice girl." As much as I appreciate that I'm known as a "good" person, there are times it would feel good to be the bad girl.

Favorite beverage:
A margarita on the rocks with extra salt around the rim. Mmmmm.

Something that gives you a pickle face:
Beer. Believe it or not, I haven't had one since my freshman year of college.

Favorite smell:
Baking brownies.

Something that makes you hold your nose:
Pumpkin. I can't even be in the room when my kids carve them for Halloween.

Something you’re really good at:
Baking and making desserts. I have a recipe for amazing chocolate chip cookie dough truffles that are always a hit.

Something you’re really bad at: Unfortunately, I'm not so good at resisting aforementioned desserts.

Something you wish you could do:
I've always wanted to know how to professionally decorate cakes. Not only does it sound fun, but quite yummy.
Something you wish you’d never learned to do:
I wish I never learned to write compelling complaint letters that yield action. My family has taken notice and now anytime anyone has a problem with an airline, bank or retail store, I am enlisted to write their complaint letter for them.

Something you like to do:
I love to read. I could spend hours every day, sitting in a cozy chair and reading a good book. My favorites are romance novels with flawed heroes, major heart swoons and happily ever afters.

Something you wish you’d never done:
I wish I had never attempted zip lining. After hiking up a ridiculously tall mountain and careening through one course, I chickened out of the rest only to hear there was no other way down the mountain. I ended up screaming my way through a 10-rope course in Costa Rica.

Favorite places you’ve been:
My favorite place on the planet is Lizard Island, a small private island off the coast of Australia's Great Barrier Reef. It is a little slice of heaven.

Places you never want to go to again:
If I didn't need to go for hygiene reasons, I would never step foot into the dentist office again.

Things that make you happy:
My children. I have two girls - ages 12 and 10. They are smart, silly, clever and so fun to be around.

Things that drive you crazy:
My children. Didn't you notice above I have two girls - ages 12 and 10. Enough said!

Best thing you’ve ever done:
Online dating. I met my husband 17 years ago when online dating was in its infancy. Not only is he my soulmate, he also helped create the two loves of my life - our children. Our relationship also spawned my third baby; our story loosely inspired my first novel, Click: An Online Love Story.

Biggest mistake:
Letting petty family squabbles impact relationships I have with people I care about.


I stand but hesitate when I see Tamika's disapproving look. Fi notices as well. "It's okay, T. I got this," she says, motioning for me to follow her back. When we get to her small office, she closes the door and gestures for me to sit on a red vinyl chair, circa 1972. She stands in front of me, leaning against the desk, and crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Spill!"

"Where should I start?"

"At the beginning." She walks around to her chair behind the desk and pulls out a yellow legal pad.

For the next half hour, I go over my encounter with Garrett, from the moment we bumped into each other and he didn't recognize me, to the embarrassment of being called 'Glasses.'

Fi takes notes furiously on her pad and grins, nods, and cringes at all the appropriate times. When I finish, she puts her pen down and asks, "Do you want the 'best friend experience' or the 'brilliant legal mind experience'?"

I can't help but laugh. "Are they mutually exclusive?"

"They are," she says nodding.

"Okay. I want the best friend experience."

She rushes around from behind the desk, wraps her arms around me soothingly. "I'm so sorry, hon. That sounds just awful. Let's go get margaritas tomorrow and drown our sorrows in tequila and lime wedges."

"Thanks, Fi. You're the best."

"Anytime," she says, rubbing my back. She pulls away and walks around to the back of her desk. She sits down and puts the legal pad to the side. I can't help but notice the writing scrawled across it.

"Just for kicks, what would you have said if I had asked for the 'brilliant legal mind experience'?"

"You sure you want to know?" Her lips pull into a grim line. Honestly, I'm not sure I do want to know, but curiosity gets the better of me.

"Lay it on me," I say.

"You need to get laid. Not the kind of bland, missionary style sex you had with Alex. You need hot heat, sweating up the sheets, crazy animal sex."

I bust out laughing. "That's your brilliant legal advice. Crazy animal sex?"

"Yes. That's my brilliant legal advice," she says with complete seriousness. "Listen, hon, it's been a year since that insecure jerk Keane dumped you. I have no doubt it's been even longer since you've, well, you know." She wags her eyebrows up and down. "Before that, you only seriously dated Travis the cheater and Alex who, let's face it, despite being completely gonzo for you, was a cold fish and a bore. It's time to stop comparing every man to this fantasy of Garrett Stephens and just do it with him to get it out of your system. He asked you out for Saturday night. Go! Enjoy!"

"I don't compare every man to Garrett," I snap at her.

"Don't you?" she asks, looking down at me sternly.   

"I'm offended you even suggested that." She looks at me, her sharp eyes boring into me, like she can read my every thought and knows I'm full of it. I imagine this is how she bears down on witnesses on the stand. I don't like being on the receiving end of that look.

"Even if that's true," I start and she nods her head, "and I'm not conceding it is." I point my finger at her. "Even if he did mean to ask me out, there's no way it's a good idea. He's a total player. It would only be one night of fun and I don't think I could get over that kind of hurt."

"Then you need to get over it now. Sorry for the tough love, hon, but you need to move past the fantasy of this man and find someone passionate and amazing who is deserving to love you for all of the great things you have to offer including your messed-up childhood and your incredible success today.


Lisa Becker is a romance writer whose previous novels include Click: An Online Love Story, Double Click and Right Click. The books, about a young woman's search for love online in Los Angeles, have been called, “a fast read that will keep you entertained,” “a fun, quick read for fans of Sex and the City,” and “hard to put down.” The first in the series was optioned for a major motion picture.

Lisa’s writings about online dating have been featured in Cupid’s Pulse,, Single Edition, The Perfect Soulmate, Chick Lit Central and numerous other book blogs and websites.

As Lisa's grandmother used to say, "For every chair, there's a rush." Lisa is now happily married to a man she met online and lives in Manhattan Beach with him and their two daughters. So, if it happened for her, there’s hope for anyone!

Connect with Lisa:

Website  |  Facebook  |  TwitterGoodreads  |  Book Trailer  

Buy the book:
Amazon  |  Kobo 

Friday, July 14, 2017



In Jane Haseldine’s new novel of riveting suspense, Detroit newspaper reporter Julia Gooden is up against the city’s most devious criminal—and her own painful past. Julia Gooden knows how to juggle different lives. A successful crime reporter, she covers the grittiest stories in the city while raising her two young boys in the suburbs. But beneath that accomplished façade is another Julia, still consumed by a tragedy that unfolded thirty years ago when her nine-year-old brother disappeared without a trace.

Julia’s marriage, too, is a balancing act, as she tries to rekindle her relationship with her husband, Assistant District Attorney David Tanner, while maintaining professional boundaries. David is about to bring Nick Rossi to trial for crimes that include drug trafficking, illegal gambling, and bribery. But the story becomes much more urgent when a courthouse bomb claims several victims—including the prosecution’s key witness—and leaves David critically injured.

Though Julia is certain that Rossi orchestrated the attack, the case against him is collapsing, and his power and connections run high and wide. With the help of Detective Raymond Navarro of the Detroit PD, she starts following a trail of blackmail, payback, and political ambition, little imagining where it will lead. Julia has risked her career before, but this time innocent lives—including her children’s—hang in the balance, and justice may come too late to save what truly matters . . .


1.    Love or money?
       Love, of course! And lots of it!

2.    Plain or peanut?
       Plain, but with plenty of chocolate, please.

3.    Beef or chicken?
       Besides fish, I’m a vegetarian these days, so neither. But I have no problem with people (my
       husband and two little boys included) digging into a juicy steak or a tub of KFC.

4.    Coffee or tea?
       My dad was from England, so it seemed like it was always teatime in our house growing up. But,
       unless I’m under the weather, I’m a coffee gal, all the way. It makes me drowsy just thinking
       about this question. Any chance you have a cup?

5.    Nope. I'm a sweet tea girl. Sorry! Oxford comma: yes or no?
       I’m a former newspaper reporter where I covered the crime beat (like my main character, Julia
       Gooden).  It seems like every editor I worked for had a different preference, so I’m likely a bit
       schizophrenic on the Oxford comma, (and I find that in the original drafts of my manuscripts,
       I’m that way too-sometimes I use it and sometimes I don’t). But if I had to take a side, I guess
       I’m an Oxford comma chick.

6.    Hardback or Kindle?
       This probably sounds weird, but I love the smell of books. I don’t own a Kindle. I’m a hardcover
       person by far. I love holding a book in my hands when I’m curled up in my reading chair at

7.    Salty or sweet?
       That’s like asking me which one of my kids I like better. I plead the fifth. Chips and chocolate
       are equal in my book.

8.    City or country?
       I’m a big city chick. I’ve lived in Boston, San Francisco, and New York. If you stick me in a
       strange city I’ve never been to before, I’ll be able to navigate the subway system fairly easily.
       But if I’m in the woods, I’ll be lost forever. Luckily, my husband is a big outdoorsman, so we
       balance each other out.

9.  Dog or cat?
      I’m crazy for animals and will take in any stray. I adopted three stray kittens and fed and got
      veterinary services for a bunch of stray cats that used to hang out on my mother’s porch. I’d have
      a household of dogs and cats if I could, but my husband won’t let me. I love dogs and cats

10.  Laptop or desktop?
       Laptop most definitely.  I’ve spent my life moving for jobs or for the adventure of it, so my
       computer needs to be mobile too.

11.   Health food or junk food?
        Health food most of the time, but I have been known to drink beer and eat chips.

12.   Mountains or beach?
        I love the beach. I grew up in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, and later Gloucester, Massachusetts. I
        can’t imagine life without the ocean.

13.  Gourmet or diner?
        I like both! When I used to live in San Francisco, every Sunday I’d eat at Fog City Diner. But
       whether I’m at a roadside diner in the middle of nowhere with a great piece of pie or drinking a
        lovely glass of Sancerre at a five-star French restaurant, I’m good.

14.  Sweet or unsweet? (Tea of course.)
       I hope this is not a reflection of my personality, but unsweet.

15.  (Gasp!) Humor or drama?
        You need both. In bad situations, we have to laugh, or else we’ll wind up in the corner, rocking
         back and forth. I write suspense novels, but I always try to instill some humor in them.

16.  Dr. Seuss or Mr. Spock?
        My youngest son just graduated from kindergarten, so I have to give props to Dr. Seuss right
        now. “Why fit in when you were born to stand out?” Thanks for the inspiration, Dr. Seuss!

17.  Halloween or Christmas?
       Oh, Christmas, definitely. I love how excited my children get in the morning when they come
       downstairs. There’s a homeless man who lives in his car that’s parked at the local library, and
       I’ve been bringing him food on Christmas for years. I honestly get as much joy when I share my
       family’s meal with him than any gift I receive.

18.  Spring of fall?
       I live in Southern California now, so we really don’t have a change of seasons. I grew up on the
       East Coast, so I miss the fall.

19.  Morning or night?
       I seem to always do my best writing after I put my kids to sleep.

20.  Fame or fortune?
       I think fame can do some strange things to your head if you let it. Fortune probably could too.
       But I’d rather be recognized for my work and have people read my stories than become rich from


Chapter 1

Glenlivet, light on the rocks. A cocktail waitress with bright fuchsia lipstick delivers the drink and motions her head in the direction of the aged fifty-something women two tables down. The recipient of the cocktail turns his head toward the hoots and low whistles from the likely recent divorcees who are ogling him like a lusty spectator sport.

“Want to join us, hon?” the ringleader asks and adjusts her leopard print halter-top to reveal an extra inch of orange, tanned cleavage. In case her intent wasn’t clear enough, the woman scoops a sugar cube from her champagne cocktail, places it between her teeth and starts sucking.

“No thank you,” the businessman answers coolly and places the unwanted drink back on the cocktail waitress’ tray.

He turns his back on the spurned women and locks in on a tall, willowy blond in a white dress that clings to her slender curves as she moves fluidly across the casino floor in his direction.

She pauses at his table, slides into the empty seat across from him and carefully tucks a leather briefcase between her legs.

The rowdy commotion from the neighboring table of women abruptly stops as they wordlessly concede, they’ve been bested by a thoroughbred.

The businessman slips an Italian charcoal grey suit coat over his tall and tightly muscled frame. He tips back the last few sips of the drink he ordered for himself ten minutes earlier and heads toward the lobby, not bothering to look back. He knows the blond will follow.

In the elevator, the mouth of a camera lens captures its occupants’ activities. The pair stand close, but just far enough apart so it doesn’t look obvious they are together, just two attractive strangers in an elevator heading up to their respected rooms. The blond stunner holds the briefcase in her left hand and takes a risk. She lifts her pinky finger up and brushes the back of the businessman’s hand for less than a second.

The elevator arrives on the VIP floor, the best the MGM Grand has to offer.

The blond bends down, slides a key out of the front pocket of the briefcase and opens the hotel room door. Inside, the man stands in front of the floor to ceiling windows. He takes a quick pan of downtown Detroit and then snaps the curtains shut. When it is safe, when they are alone, the blond, now anxious and wanting, drops the briefcase and goes directly for his zipper.

“Wait.” He takes the briefcase over to the bed, opens it, and fans the stack of bills across the mattress like a seasoned blackjack dealer some thirty stories below.

“Two million. You don’t trust me now?” the woman asks with a contrived pout.

He ignores the question until the cash has been fully accounted for.

“Come here,” he commands.

He starts to remove his coat, but she is already there.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers and cups her long, delicate fingers around his crotch.

He reciprocates by running his hand across the thin silk of her dress directly over her breast, and then squeezes until the blond lets out a gasp.

The blond easily submits when the man pushes her down hard on the bed, letting him believe he still has the upper hand, that he is the aggressor. She stares up at his beautiful face, his breath coming faster now as his body starts to move in a rapid, steady rhythm above her. She doesn’t mind when he closes his eyes. He wants her again, reestablishing her position of control, at least for now. That’s all that matters.

When they are finished, the businessman turns toward the wall in disgust.

“I knew you weren’t through with me yet,” she says. “You take all your hostility out on me in bed. You’re a rough boy, but I like it.”

He ignores her, gets up from the bed, still naked, and heads to the bathroom. The blond is useless to him now. She knows it but still holds on.

“The birthmark on your ass is so sweet. It looks like a crescent moon with a shooting star underneath,” she remarks. “Come back to bed and let me take a closer look.”

The man spins around, anger flashing in his eyes as if the blonde’s comment violated something personal.

“Shut up,” he says.

“No need to talk dirty to me. You know I’ll give you what you want, as long as you give me my share of the money.”

“When it’s over, you’ll get it. That’s the agreement.”

“How do I know you won’t screw me?”

“Because I’m not that guy. The money will be in a safe place.”

“I want access to it.”

“I don’t think so.”

The door to the bathroom slams shut and she is dismissed. Inside the shower, he scrubs every trace of the woman off his body, hoping she will be gone when he comes out. But the blond is still in bed. At least she is sleeping.

The businessman climbs back into his suit, grabs the briefcase and closes the hotel room door quietly behind him. The second elevator in the hallway opens and he disappears inside just as elevator one chimes its arrival to the VIP floor. Its single occupant emerges, a man, squat and thick but moving swiftly like a gymnast. He wears all black, a bulky windbreaker, sweatpants and a baseball cap as if he’s just come from the hotel gym. He lets himself into a room with a key he extracts from a bulky fanny pack that flanks his waist. Inside, he quickly assesses the scene, pulls a tiny camera out from its hiding place inside a fake antique clock on the dresser and tucks it into his coat pocket.

He then retrieves a razor blade and scarf from the pack and heads toward the bed where the blond is still sleeping.

The man moves silently as he eases his body onto the bed. He inches forward across the mattress and then straddles the blond with his hips, locking her in place until she is prone and pinned to the bed. Without opening her eyes, she smiles, thinking her lover has returned. She flicks her tongue across her lips and then opens her mouth expectantly.

“Shhh,” he whispers. “You pay now. We know what you did.”

The woman’s eyes fly open, and she tries to scream out her assailant’s name, but he cuffs one stubby hand across her mouth before she can utter a word. He lifts the razor from his pocket and begins to gently slide the unsharpened side of the blade down her stomach until it reaches the top of her public bone.

“Please!” she begs. “I’ll give you what you want.”

The razor stops short before it makes its final descent.

His breath is warm and steady against her ear. “How do you know what I want?”

“Money. I’ll give it to you.”

He pauses as though considering the request and flicks the dull side of the blade back and forth across her skin.

“God, please. You don’t want money then. Okay. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” He shakes his head and teases the sharp edge of the razor blade against her leg.

“Who is it?” he whispers as the razor makes a tiny, precise knick on the inside of her thigh, drawing a single drop of blood that trickles down her ivory skin like a crimson teardrop.

“The name. I’ll give you the name!” she pleads. “Sammy Biggs, the Butcher. He’s the one. I just found out, I swear. I didn’t betray you. He did. Now please! Let me go.”

The hired hand sighs deeply, as if savoring an indulgent pleasure, now finally satisfied. But not quite. Lessons must be learned and never forgotten. The man stuffs the scarf down the woman’s mouth to muffle the pain of her penance. It is engrained in his soul those who sin must atone. He clasps the razor blade between his thumb and middle finger and cuts the blonde’s left earlobe off in one clean slice.

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” he prays as he pulls out a locket from underneath his black T-shirt. He kisses a likeness of the face of the blessed Virgin Mary etched into the front of the gold necklace charm and stuffs his newly won keepsake from the blond into his pocket.


Jane Haseldine is a journalist, former crime reporter, columnist, newspaper editor, magazine writer, and deputy director of communications for a governor. Jane writes the Julia Gooden mystery series for Kensington Publishing.

Connect with Jane:                        Buy the book:
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Tuesday, July 11, 2017



 Dwarves are stout, stubborn folk meant for mountains. They have no place in the forest. It's full of icy rivers, beasts of prey, and bandits. So why are Vala and her friends hiking straight into it?
Though it vexes Vala, the only way to not spend the rest of her life farming is to marry well.  So she'll join the other dwarven girls on the migration to the sacred glen, where they must take a husband or be doomed to spinsterhood. 

But how can she and her friends stand out if the upper class dwarves are going to arrive earlier and make a first impression?  Their only choice is to hike through the unmapped, untamed forest. 

Determined Vala, sassy Darcelle, meek Tarni, and stoic Runia.  Lifelong friends who discover they have less to fear from the forest than the harsh truths about each other.  Which will end first -- their friendship or their lives?


A few of your favorite things:
My iPod - it's my little distract-o-matic
My Kindle - it has all the books I ever want or ever need. Even comic books. I don't use it nearly enough to its full potential.
My stuffed seal, Skruffy. I've had it since I was eight. It was a gift from my uncle who was in the Air Force, stationed in Guam. It was the last Christmas gift I got from him as he died in a plane crash two months later.
Things you need to throw out:
My iPod - it's my little distract-o-matic (okay, I shouldn't really throw it out. Maybe just some of the apps on it.)
I have a black leather trench coat I bought during my "trench coat messiah" period twelve years ago that I never wore. It's in the back of my closet collecting dust.
That tub of ice cream I keep buying from the grocery store.

Things you need in order to write:
A computer with either Word or OpenOffice. (I just bought Scrivener so I don't know if I need that yet).
A thesaurus, preferably online so it's easily searchable.
A period of time where I don't have to worry about interruptions.
Things that hamper your writing:
Interruptions, depression or not getting enough sleep, the existential meaningless of existence

Things you love about writing:
Creating totally new worlds and funny characters I'd want to hang out with.
Playing with action figures while still being adult about it.
Creating a thing where there wasn't a thing before.
Things you hate about writing:
Not knowing how it's going until you're finished, and that can take a long time.
Not getting much feedback after you're done, like no one's read it.
The length of time it takes from start to finish.

Hardest thing about being a writer:
You can find the time to write each day, but sometimes, especially if you're not well-established yet, it gets hard to motivate yourself to do it, because you've had so many rejections already. Also, staying off the Internet.
Easiest thing about being a writer:
All you have to do is sit down and do the typey-typey. It's not like hauling logs or mining coal.

Things you never want to run out of:
Electricity, wireless connectivity.
Things you wish you’d never bought:
All these DVDs. I rarely watch them, and I especially never watch the special features or commentary (I'd rather hear from the scriptwriter than the director). And there's too many good, new things on Netflix.

Words that describe you:

Introverted, observant, reflective, logical.
Words that describe you but you wish they didn’t:
Antisocial, cowardly, callous, easily bored.

Favorite foods:
Barbecue, take-out pizza, chicken sandwiches with lots of mayonnaise, shrimp, salty things, cookies, crispy tater tots.
Things that make you want to throw up: 
Indian food, things with curry, raw onions, cheese fondue

Favorite music:
90s alternative. I've become one of those fuddy-duddys who hates music today by these self-entitled twit children, and music was better back in my day when it was deep and heavy
Music that make your ears bleed:
Lots of hip-hop, including gangsta rap, schmaltzy R&B, southern rap.

Favorite beverage:
Lemonade, Mountain Dew Code Red. Do milkshakes count? Is it a beverage if you can eat it with a spoon? Does that make soup a beverage?
Something that gives you a pickle face:
Mineral water. If you're going to carbonate something, put flavor into it.
IPAs. I like bitter things, like mustard and sauerkraut. But for some reason IPA beers taste like a oil refinery chemical someone made palatable

Favorite smell:
Burning wood, coffee, a clean house.

Something that makes you hold your nose:
Baby food. Smells so processed and aged and icky. I hate seeing it too. It's hard for me to eat when babies are eating nearby. Also vomit.

Something you’re really good at:
Finishing someone's sentence for them, especially when it's because they can't think of the right word.
Trivia. Especially regarding movies.
Something you’re really bad at:
Having a conversation with a stranger IRL or on the phone

People you consider as heroes:
Teachers, daycare providers.
People with a big L on their foreheads:
People who use money or prestige to avoid the law or consequences of punishment.
People who dedicate large swaths of time and energy to trolling or hatemongering just because they can and it's easy.

Last best thing you ate:
A spicy peanut pad thai thing that I made with spare asian noodles.
Last thing you regret eating:
A big old cinnamon roll AND a cream-filled donut at work. If they're going to provide food couldn't they make it a little less fatty sometimes?

Things you’d walk a mile for:
A mile isn't that long. I can walk a mile in half an hour. So I'll say cream puffs.
Things that make you want to run screaming from the room:
A bunch of people all looking at me.

Things you always put in your books:

 Something fantastic. Life is too short for the mundanity of real life, I don't need it in my books.
Some sort of reference to my wife, just because it's fun and I can see if she caught it.
Examination of gender issues
Themes of duality (which blends to the gender issues, specifically woman and man).
The word "just" too many times.
Things you never put in your books:
Intentional symbolism
Lovey stuff

Things to say to an author:
"I loved your book. It made me change my mind about such-n-such."
Things to say to an author if you want to be fictionally killed off in their next book:
Something that demonstrates ignorance and ESPECIALLY if you have desire to overcome that ignorance (i.e., being stubborn on an issue or belief).
"When are you going to write about [topic or genre I have no interest in]?"

Favorite places you’ve been:
Cancun, Mexico - I just remember lots of tasty drinks.
Big Sky, Montana - something about the isolation and snow and ski culture.
Places you never want to go to again:
San Francisco - dirty, full of homeless people

Favorite books or genre:
Science fiction, fantasy, coming of age, humor, romance
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
Darkness of the Light by Peter David
The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl by Barry Lyga
Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling
Books you would ban:
Never. Even the worst books have something to give, even if it's what "not" to do. I never worry about books corrupting anyone. I worry that they're not providing ideas.

People you’d like to invite to dinner:
Barack Obama, Steven Spielberg, Neil Gaiman, John Green, Hannah Hart.
People you’d cancel dinner on:
Certain presidents with the initials D.T.

Things that make you happy:
My daughters, cats, Disney princesses, Muppets, robots.
Things that drive you crazy:
People driving badly on the road, especially during my commute.

Biggest lie you’ve ever told:
When I was dating my wife in college, I lied to her that I had to do homework, when I was playing video games, just to get a moment's peace.
A lie you wish you’d told:
|I wish I told my sister that she knew what she was talking about regarding my opinions about certain suburban moms. She went to school in Chicago, now lives in Vermont, spent two years in Nepal, and will now be taking a permanent job in Alaska. She has never been married and never lived in suburbia. But the argument we had online, I spent way too much energy and time on. We haven't really spoken to each other since then.

The last thing you did for the first time:

I went to the March for Science, my first protest march and political activism, in Minneapolis. I wrote about it here:
Something you’ll never do again:
Keep it to myself when I feel sick or icky. I tried to "be a man" about this headache I had that wouldn't go away. It turned out to be meningitis, and I had to be rushed to the hospital.


Eric Juneau is a software engineer who lives in Minnesota with his wife and two daughters. His stories have been published in Electric Spec and Plasma Frequency. His first novel, Merm-8, was published in Summer 2016 by eTreasures. You can find him talking about movies, video games, and Disney princesses in his journey to become a capital A Author at

Connect with Eric:
Twitter  |  Blog  

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