Featured Author: Tamara Lee Dorris

Tamara Lee Dorris was here in October to talk about Secrets of a Spiritual Guru, and CLP Blog Tours brings her back today to talk about her paranormal drama, Casey’s Quest. Don't miss the Rafflecopter giveaway after the interview for a chance to win a $20 Amazon gift card.

About the book:

At her father's death, Casey Anderson discovers she was adopted at age four. Not able to remember anything, she sets out on a quest to discover why her birth mother gave her up and, and why her adopted parent kept it such a secret. She embarks on a dangerous and spiritually enlightening journey that proves to her, nothing is what it seems.

Book Trailer

Interview with Tamara Lee Dorris

How long have you been writing, and how did you start?

Age 11 or so...I fell in love with the idea of being a writer from watching John Boy Walton.

What do you like best about writing?

My favorite part...hmmm...I like SO much about it that it’s hard to narrow down. I would say that sweet spot when I’m re-reading what I’ve written and I get that feeling that it’s really, really good. That’s the moment I know I picked the right career.

What’s your least favorite thing?

EDITING...ICK. I have paid top dollar for editors and yet, there are always errors, so I  now pay two different people and then do one additional read through after that.

How did you come up with the title of your book?

Since it’s going to be a series, I wanted a simple title that could be changed. This one is Casey’s Quest, while the next one will be Casey’s Karma.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

Yes, I have a couple. I teach a few college classes and sell a few houses. That frees me up for lots of writing and yoga.

How would you describe your book in a tweet? (140 characters or less.)

“Suspense, drama, paranormal? Will Casey find out why her mother gave her up for adoption before the military finds her first?”

How did you create the plot for Casey's Quest?

I wanted to make it suspenseful, so I just came up with the main plot and then because I have such a big background in real estate, I made the subplot revolve around that.

Do you outline, write by the seat of your pants, or let your characters tell you what to write?

I never start a novel without a poster board. I use sticky notes and make a big table with at least 30 notes (i.e. chapters), then I make sure something happens big in each chapter. Once I am sure of the plot, I start writing. I do a LOT of writing in my head before I hit the keyboard.

Did you have any say in your cover art?

Yes! This cover is near and dear to my heart. Since I wrote the book for my actress daughter to star in, it was only appropriate to use her on the cover. Then, my talented husband took a lovely photo of Mt. Lassen (where most of the story takes place) and overlaid my daughter over the mountain. Very pretty cover.

Do you have imaginary friends? When do they talk to you? Do they tell you what to write or do you poke them with a Q-tip?

Yes, I think I do. In fact, I’m currently writing a non-fiction memoir about one...that’s all I will say for now.

How do you get to know your characters?

Sleep with them. I mean that nicely. I lay in bed a lot in the mornings and think about who they are and what kinds of things they’ll say. They tend to speak for themselves once the story has gotten going.

Sophie’s choice: Do you have a favorite of your characters?

In this book it is definitely Thomas, the Maidu Indian who lives in Chester. He is too cool.

When you start a new book, do you know what the entire cast will be?

Usually I do. However, sometimes a minor character can assume a bigger role than I thought he would.

Which character did you most enjoy writing?

Andrew, because he has an Australian accent.

I’m constantly on the lookout for new names. How do you name your characters?

Good question. They just come to me. I try not to use names of people I know, but sometimes it just happens.

What would your main character say about you?

That I wear too much mascara.

Are any of your characters inspired by real people?

As I said, in this book, Casey is to be played by my daughter whenever it’s turned into a film so I made her very much like my daughter in some ways. In other ways, it will really stretch her acting skills.

Are you like any of your characters?

Not so much in this book.

I like writing characters who do and say things I never would, as well as characters who do and say things I wish I could. Do you have characters who fit into one of those categories? Who, and in what category do they fall?

Yes, Thomas, the Native American, has the ability to say very few words, and he meditates all the time. Two traits I try to claim but don’t always accomplish.

If you could be one of your characters, which one would you choose?

I would really like to have Casey’s life...she’s just discovered her remote viewing skills and gets to live in the mountains. Plus she likes Andrew, and I’m pretty sure he likes her too!

With which of your characters would you most like to be stuck on a deserted island?

Thomas. He lives off the land so I know we’d survive.

Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.

When Casey has her first remote viewing experience.

Who are your favorite authors?

Harper Lee, Stephen King, and Neville Goddard.

Which author would you most like to invite to dinner, and what would you fix him?

Mark Twain, frogs’ legs.

What book are you currently reading and in what format (e-book/paperback/hardcover)?

Reading The Green Ticket on my kindle, reading A Course in Miracles in hardcover.

How do you handle criticism of your work?

Not well. Why? Don’t you like my book?


LOL. No, that was not a hint! Do you have a routine for writing? Do you work better at night, in the afternoon, or in the morning?

I’m a mid-morning girl...house is empty, dogs sleeping, and I can get lost in the silence.

Where and when do you prefer to do your writing?

Kitchen table...mornings are my fave.

Where’s home for you?


Carmichael, California

Do you ever get writer’s block? What do you do when it happens?

Not really. I sometimes get tired or bored and unsure where I’m going, but it passes.

Is there anything in particular that you do to help the writing flow? Music? Acting out the scene? Long showers?

I hear the characters speaking in my head all the time. I take long baths or lay in bed in the mornings if I need help with a scene.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?

“To err is human, to forgive, divine.”

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Working or camping or drinking wine. Sometimes I do all three of those at the same time.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

The mountains.

If you could take a trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

I want to visit Italy. I hear they have vending machines with wine in them.

Get out! Really? Wow. What are you working on now?

A humorous self-help memoir and a novel about a young boy who talks to angels.

About the author:

Tamara Lee Dorris has been a life-long fan of personal and spiritual development, and has written several books that fall under the category of "self-help." Casey's Quest explores various aspects of spiritual development, brain science & the paranormal. Tamara is also an adjunct professor, radio host, and long time real estate professional.

Connect with Tamara!
Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter

Buy the Book!
Amazon 

  Rafflecopter

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Featured Author: Dan O'Brien

Dan O'Brien is back to promote the release of his latest publication. Water is a novella in the B-Sides universe, which follows people in a post-apocalyptic world. While each story is a standalone adventure, together they form a deeply intricate web of action, drama, and hope. Here is a brief summary of the novella:

The next installment in the B-Sides series follows a father and son living out a quiet life in northern Arizona. A strange occurrence at the border, and a series of events that turns the world upside down, plunges society into a spiral from which it might not be able to recover. Having to flee from their home with a band of unlikely friends in tow, the open road beckons. 

Can they survive?

And here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:

Tuesday

His phone vibrated as it slowly ventured toward the edge of his nightstand. Shaking and spinning, it was a ballet of electronic futility. James had left it behind; it wasn’t even an afterthought as he neared the valley of sand and heat that he had passed through only the night before. There were two reasons to live in the desert: sunsets and sunrises. 

This particular morning was no exception. 

The valley was formed of a crimson pastel rock that from a distance looked like the mountains at the entrance to some unknown world. But in the morning and just before the wisps of night grab a hold and smother the day, there was an explosion of colors. It was a beautiful cornucopia of blistering and beautiful art. 

The sun crawled just above the sand dunes, flooding the valley in sunshine. The splashing light tumbled across the rock formations, and iridescent stones ignited the walls of the basin. 

This was the part of the day James loved the most. 

This was when his life felt less worthless. 

There was purpose here. 

The sun came into the valley each day to create this beautiful marvel, and each day he was here to witness it. The twisting serpent of the road wove in and out of the majesty of nature, until the paved parking lot of his daily grind came into view. 

A grotesque sign was perched just off the road. 

It read: Our Stuff. 

The door of the jeep creaked as James closed it. He pulled his red vest over his black t-shirt and ran a hand through his short hair. 

The parking lot was mostly empty. 

A beat-up Buick had been parked there since the late 90s and had never moved. By this time, it was a makeshift homeless shelter for local transients. It was an important component of his duties for the day, driving off the homeless when they panhandled in front of the store. 

Silence permeated the morning––a rare treat James relished in the early mornings. She walked in from the other side of the parking lot. A blue Honda with a dented door and missing hubcaps was parked some distance away. She was his dream girl, of a sort. She was married to––or had been, it was a strange situation to be sure––a local drunk and abuser. 

Light brown hair to her chin: It was often combed over one eye, mirroring a childhood memory. There was too much eye shadow to hide indiscretions, long shirts to hide bruises. 

She was a broken doll. 

“Hey Violet,” James mumbled as he got closer, chancing an awkward wave. 

She rarely looked up and when she did, all he was struck by was the wide eyes that looked at him in gratitude for recognizing her existence. This day, she smiled weakly. Dimples in her cheeks deepened as he got closer. 

“Hello, James,” she whispered back, her voice small. 

He felt protective of her.

As he neared, he smiled widely, invitingly. 

“Did you bring Julie with you today?” 

Julie was her eight-year old daughter who often frequented work with her mother when her father was away on a binge, or more violent than usual. James felt defensive of her as well, much to his detriment. 

She shook her head. Most of the time she wore an over-sized coat with a faux fur lining and hood that was often the barrier of her hidden face. 

“Her father took her today.”

James nodded absently, as he could not imagine what that man could do with a child. He could barely take care of himself. Too often, he would barrel into the store––half-drunk and yelling––and would have to be dragged out by the police. The automatic doors at the front of the store did not open as they approached. 

Reaching out, James pulled them open and gestured for Violet to go first. She bowed her head, making an already smaller person even more diminutive. The interior of the store was still dark. The echo of the speakers played elevator music, water-downed versions of songs no one wanted to hear. As Violet disappeared into the aisles of the store, James turned and shut the front doors and locked them. 

“See you later,” he spoke, trailing off at the end.

*

The morning passed as it often did. 

The sun rose. 

Heat sweltered in the desert and the fringe humanity of Miranda sought air-conditioned shelter. James was a walker, a transient employee who sauntered through the store. Seeking out customers who required help, he sometimes cleaned the bathrooms. Often, he attended to those duties that fell between the cracks of other employees. As the morning gave way to the afternoon, there was a palpable tension in the air.

Customers were more curt than usual. 

People left angry. 

It was not until James had the distinct pleasure of interacting with a deranged desert degenerate that he began to understand what it was about that day that was enraging people so. 

“Nametag.” 

James did not register the cruel tone at first. 

“Nametag,” he repeated, this time drawing James’ attention. “Nametag, I’m talking to you. Turn around.”

James turned, his grimace dissipating into an even line. 

It was his best attempt at a smile. 

The man was a caricature of a person. His chin disappeared into his pocked neck and his bulging brown eyes seemed to be of two different sizes. Crooked teeth were revealed as he opened his mouth to speak once more. 

“Hey, what about customer service? C’mon, nametag.”

“What can I help you with, sir?” mustered James. 

The man’s face twisted into a sneer. 

He was wearing a shirt three sizes too small, his hairy belly exposed from just beneath the dirty white shirt. Putrid breath radiated from the man. It was an odor that could have risen from a trash heap in the Mojave Desert. “Attitude? You giving me attitude now, nametag? Time like this, in a crisis and what not.”

“I’m sorry that you feel I am being discourteous…”

The man sneered again. His voice, though masculine, broke as he spoke again. “Using big words on me now, college dropout. You think you’re hot shit, selling commodities to us lower folk.”

James looked at the man in disbelief, his behavior was deplorable. “Perhaps if you can just calm down, I can help you find whatever it is you are looking for.”

The man moved in closer, the scent of body odor was overpowering. “You some kind of wise guy? Why do you think I’m here? You retarded? Don’t you listen to the news? Don’t you know what’s going on?”

James looked at him, bewildered. 

“Sir, I…”

“Water,” the man spoke clearly. “Water, I need water.”

“Bottled water? Is this about the Hernandez thing? The border?” queried James, making a connection slowly, though uncertainly. “Are they peddling hysteria already?”

“Hysteria, boy, you must be living under a rock. It’s coming. That border thing’s old news. Poison is in Texas now, parts of New Mexico. They’re talking about rationing and sanctions on tap water. You believe that shit?”

James looked around the store. “I really don’t.”

It had evaded him previously. 

The scampering populace of Miranda bustled about the store, arms full of plastic water bottles and greater containers. One woman had another by the hair, dragging her away from the last water bottles on the shelf. People screamed at each other, pointing accusing fingers, claiming water as their own. 

“It would appear you aren’t the only one looking,” replied James, as he pointed to the pandemonium. “Best of luck to you.”

The man glowered at him as he passed by, but James could not believe his eyes. Lines were backed up, people nearly climbing over each other to get water and carry it away in the heat of the day, to survive. 

He stalked over to the throng of people who had begun to congregate around the empty shelves. As he approached, the masses turned as one. Their bleary eyes and angry words were upon him before he could even speak. 

“Where is the water?” one cried.

“Is there more?” queried an elderly woman shakily. 

“What do we do?” screamed another.

James held up his hands, trying to calm them. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, but they continued to bicker. Each voice rose above the others. Some shoved those smaller than themselves, like a rabid mob. He raised his voice. Some mumbles remained, but most had directed their attention at him. “Let’s all calm down for a moment. I will go in the back and see what we have.”

He moved away from them, not giving them time to object or grow ever angrier. The store was packed. Never in his eighteen months there had he seen such a rush on the store. He wondered what it was he had missed to which everyone else was reacting so intensely. Pushing open the double doors that led into the warehouse, James sighed. 

The madness was tangible. 

It permeated the air, made it thin. 

Other employees had congregated in the back, seeking shelter from the madness. Two of them talked loudly with each other. One he knew, the other was a new employee or perhaps someone with whom he had never crossed paths. The first was dressed in a style that could only be described as early fuckup. The other was the kind of person who you would not give another look, as average as they come. 

An unevenly mounted nose ring, jagged teeth, and a tone that was filled with ignorance: The younger man James did not know spoke in an overbearing tone.

“This is epic. All these fucking hillbillies running around like the skies are falling in. I’m surprised the fat ones aren’t screaming Chicken Little. Epic.” He held his hands up demonstratively. “Epic.”

Average Bob watched the less-than-eloquent fellow employee with a listless gaze. “The news said it was serious though…”

“The news? You can’t trust the news, man. They are trying to pull some bullshit over our eyes. Always, trying to force your hand,” he continued to rant. 

James moved past, making sure not to make eye contact, as he did not wish to engage them in some kind of rhetorical conversation. As he moved out of earshot, he could not help but shake his head at the redundant movie references that took the place of grammar and syntax. There was only the replacement of actual thought with recycled thought. It had become the repetition and regurgitation of the words of another. He was not necessarily bitter toward fan worship, but was simply irritated by the lack of thought most other people his age seemed to show. They were more content in the safety of what other people thought––more concerned with their small shell of a world and not the greater picture. 

His face twisted into a scowl as he moved past racks and racks of brown boxes marked in black permanent marker with various numbers designating position, quantity, and retail-related mediocrity. As he reached the back, where normally there were pallets upon pallets of shrink-wrapped water cases, he swore.

Reaching down, he picked up the wayward bunched band of plastic that had once held the pallet in place. There were seven empty pallets, the entire back stock of what the store carried. 

Where had he been? 

How had he not seen this?

The voice startled him. “Pretty intense, huh?”

James rose slowly, turning to face Violet. “Yeah, wild. How did I not notice all of this water going out?”

She moved next to him, folding her arms across her chest. “You’ve been in a daze lately, moving around as if you didn’t notice anything, anybody.”

They lingered like this for a moment. 

Neither spoke––nor breathed really––except in fractured, shallow breaths. Finally, letting out a burst of air and licking his lips, James shifted his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “I should check on those people out there. They were acting like fucking animals.”

Violet nodded, tucking her hands inside her sleeves. 

“Yeah, my break is almost over. I should be getting back.”

James nodded again, awkwardly. 

Turning away, he disappeared into the racks once more, leaving Violet to her thoughts. He shook his head and mumbled to himself in mock anger. Whenever there was a moment when he and Violet seemed to connect, they both froze, neither making a move. She was scared, but was looking for a way out. 

He knew that. 

He could be there for her. 

Smacking a hand against his forehead, he whispered to himself angrily. “Stupid.”

A psychologist, author, editor, philosopher, martial artist, and skeptic, he has published several novels and currently has many in print, including: The End of the World Playlist, Bitten, The Journey, The Ocean and the Hourglass, The Path of the Fallen, The Portent, and Cerulean Dreams. Follow him on Twitter (@AuthorDanOBrien) or visit his blog http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com. He recently started a consultation business. You can find more information about it here: http://www.amalgamconsulting.com/.

Water (US)
Bitten (US) 

End of the World Playlist (US)  

Cerulean Dreams (US) 

The Journey (US)  

The Path of the Fallen (US)  

The Twins of Devonshire (US)
Water (UK)

The End of the World Playlist (UK) 

Bitten (UK) 

Cerulean Dreams (UK)

The Journey (UK) 

The Path of the Fallen (UK) 

Follow My Blog  

Follow Me On Twitter 

Like Me On Facebook  

Featured Author: Brandi Salazar

Brandi Salazar, author of the YA paranormal romance, Addicted to Magic, is here today. Brandi is a writer, a mother, a student and a blogger. How does she do it all?

About the book:

Addicted To Magic is the first book in a humor filled, witchy series.

Witt and Romance--Together they can overcome anything...

Jessica Warren comes from a long line of witches. At the age of eighteen her ability to wield magic will intensify and she will be welcomed into the fold with open arms. That is, until she she risks it all.

Magic isn't something to be taken lightly. With each spell cast the user suffers dangerous after effects that carry the potential of destroying their life. After her parent's divorce, Jessica begins abusing her powers, but she really doesn't think she's doing anything wrong--it's everyone else that has a problem.

When her best friend, Amber, informs her that she had a vision of Jessica's mother dying in a car accident, a victim of her own abuse of magic, Jessica is in a race against time to save her mother. Her life is only complicated further when a boy catches her attention and she has to not only save the day, but keep all of her secrets hidden.  

Book 2-- Crossfire-- Coming Summer 2013!

Brandi, you're a prolific writer--what do you like best about it?

I love creating new worlds and lives. I especially enjoy getting to know new people. (Yes, I am fully aware that they are not real.)

They're not? Dang. What’s your least favorite thing?

My least favorite thing is how long it takes to finish writing a book. I wish I could just pull out all the ideas in my head and have them be finished, but it’s a process. I guess that’s why it’s called a labor of love.

I suppose so. How did you come up with the title of your book?

Well, it wasn’t too difficult, actually. Jessica is a witch, and she is very clearly addicted to using her magic. It seemed fitting.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

Yes. I am a wife and a mother, which, I have heard, is like having two full time jobs. Considering the amount of laundry I do in a day, I agree!

I agree too. And it's also the hardest job on the planet.

I am also a full time university student studying to become an editor.

And you write? Wow. Do you sleep? How did you create the plot for this book?

This is one of my earlier books, and my method had since changed, but with Addicted to Magic, I just opened a document with the intent to write...something, and the first chapter just came out. After that, it was fairly simple to shape a story around it.

Do you outline, write by the seat of your pants, or let your characters tell you what to write?

I do a little of everything. Sometimes (okay, most times) I think of a conversation or a situation while doing something completely mundane, and I write it down. At that moment, I am writing by the seat of my pants and it is the characters that are driving me. From there, I can usually pour out a chapter or two, or more depending on the day. An outline usually follows as soon as the words stop flowing easily, which gets me over the hump.

Did you have any say in your cover art?

As an indie writer, I have complete say over every aspect of my books. I search out the kind of photo I want, and I create the cover myself. It’s an incredible process that I have learned so much from. I really love that I am able to channel my creativity beyond the pages of the book.

Have you ever bought any books just for the cover? 

I have bought so many books based on the cover alone.

Did you enjoy them?

Sometimes they are a hit, sometimes a miss, but it’s always worth taking the risk. You never know what you will find!

Like a box of chocolates. Do you have imaginary friends? When do they talk to you? Do they tell you what to write or do you poke them with a Q-tip?

If by imaginary friend you mean something like Drop Dead Fred, no, I don’t have any. But, I guess you could consider my characters my imaginary friends. There are times that they drop in for a short visit, and sometimes they stay awhile. Once in a while they bring a few friends, and let me tell you, when they do, they can get pretty rowdy. Then there are those times when we have a falling out and they refuse to speak to me, so something bigger than a Q-tip is required to poke and prod them with, but eventually, they come around.

You're right. I meant your characters as imaginary friends. And while we're on the subject of characters, do you have a favorite one?
I’ll start by saying that I love all of my characters. They are all unique and charming in their own way, but if I had to choose, it would be Behr from A Warrior’s Betrayal. He’s the gentle giant of the group with a big heart and smart mouth. One day, I will give him his happy ending. Maybe.

When you start a new book, do you know what the entire cast will be?

No, never. I am virtually clueless at the start of a book. I know only the next line. Each character makes an appearance as it develops, so in a way, they decide what the story is going to be and where it is headed. I am just lucky enough to be along for the ride.

That's the best kind of ride. Are you like any of your characters?

All of my characters share bits and pieces of me.

How so?

Some of them are adventurous; others are shy, witty, demanding, and quick to anger, loving, supportive, funny, adoring, confident, and insecure. They run the full gamut, but they are all me in some way or another.

With which of your characters would you most like to be stuck on a deserted island?
Goodness. None of them? They have so many issues. I don’t know that we could cohabitate for any length of time without doing each other bodily harm. Assuming that we did get stranded together, I would choose Godrick from Faerie Tales to be my island partner. He’s gorgeous and attentive and pretty close to perfect. Also, his clothes are riddled with all kinds of pins and chains and such. I’m pretty sure we could pull a MacGyver and live like kings while we waited to be rescued.

Which author would you most like to invite to dinner, and what would you fix him. Or her?

J.R. Ward would definitely be my dream guest. Since I don’t have any doggen on hand, though, I would bake up a nice lasagna and a peach cobbler (I am assuming she likes peaches considering her many references to them.)

How do you handle criticism of your work?
I curl into a fetal position and cry for days. Thankfully, my readers have been blessedly kind, and I have only experienced this a couple times. In those instances, despite the initial sting, I have taken their words into serious consideration and made adjustments accordingly. I like to listen to my readers, and I like to give them what they want, within reason and where appropriate. I still write the way I want to write, but I have learned that sometimes readers see something that I might have overlooked. I look at them as a tool to help me improve as a writer.


Do you have a routine for writing? Do you work better at night, in the afternoon, or in the morning?

My routine has changed over time and I adapt it according to what is happening in my life. Currently, I get up before the sun rises to write. I find I am better able to concentrate when I don’t have to think about all the other things I have yet to do that day.

Is there anything in particular that you do to help the writing flow?

I do a few things to help keep the words flowing. I talk to my husband, and he helps formulate ideas. I have a playlist that I add to almost constantly, but sometimes I end up just singing along, so that doesn’t always help as much as I wish it would. What I found works best is cleaning. The moment I pick up a broom, conversations begin. It’s like being at the horse races when the gun goes off.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I read. It’s the perfect opportunity to not only escape into another reality, but to gather more ideas and learn more techniques.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Scotland. I think the mental picture that one word calls forth is explanation enough.

What are you working on now?

I am currently working to finish up That First Kiss, which is a book written under a pen name and should be out late spring. After that, I plan to get working on finishing up Crossfire, the second novel in the Addicted to Magic series.


Cool. Come back and tell us more when they're published. And thanks for being here. 

Brandi turned the tables and interviewed me on her blog. Go here if you'd like to read it.

Addicted to Magic excerpt

"What are you doing at this party? Last time I checked, you were still in high school. And what is this?” He snatched my cup from my hand, studied it, and took a sip. “You’re drinking alcohol, too?”

My eyes went wide with shock. “What? No! That’s not mine.”

“Not yours, huh?” he asked speculatively.

“Well, it’s mine, but I haven’t actually drank any,” I backpedaled. “This looks bad, I know, but I assure you, I have not been drinking tonight.” Lies, all lies, my brain shouted.

This was so bad. Not only had I not wanted to be here, but now I had been caught too. And if my parents ever found out they’d...they’d what? They’d do precisely nothing, except maybe throw me into another rehab.

“I have a hard time believing that,” Carmen said, placing both of our drinks on the mantle.

Knowing that I really had nothing to worry about besides soiling someone else’s own interpretation of me, which I could give a hoot about, I raised my chin in defiance.

“And I am having a hard time finding a reason for why I should be explaining myself to you. Have a good one, chico.”

Wait. Was that the right word? Oh well, couldn’t turn back now. Patting him on the arm, I turned and walked away.

“Jess,” Carmen said, keeping pace as I cut a swath through the crowd, and in the complete opposite direction as Amber. “Answer one question for me.”

I stopped and turned to face him. He stared down at me, then reached a hand out and touched my shoulder, lazily sliding his palm down my arm. I swallowed hard, feeling butterflies suddenly take flight in my stomach. What was happening here?

He watched his own movement and I felt his grip tighten. When his eyes lifted back to mine all I could see was a knowing, burning anger residing behind those brown orbs.

I tamped down the fear that tried to bubble up, and yanked my arm free, becoming a little angry myself. “What is it, Carmen. I don’t have all day,” I snapped.

He matched my glare. “If you’re here, then where is my sister?”

Crap.

My first thought was that he was too smart for his own good. My second, that me and Amber were practically joined at the hip. It could only be expected that he would come to that conclusion. I rested a little easier knowing this.

I shrugged. “Home? How am I supposed to know? I haven’t gotten around to attaching the GPS to her yet.” I strode through the house and out the back door, coming out at the pool again. Not exactly where I had intended, but I had to keep Carmen as far away from Amber as possible.

“Yeah, do I have stupid stamped on my forehead somewhere?”

I glanced at his forehead. “No, looks more like loser, but I forgot my glasses."

About the author:

Brandi resides in Ohio as a devoted wife and mother of three beautiful children. She has many passions in life, writing being one. Unlike a lot of writers, Brandi doesn't see this as a job, but as a passion, and it comes naturally to her. Throughout her life she has played with it, writing quirky poems and short stories bordering on the bizarre, which no doubt reflects her self-proclaimed "weird" personality, but only over the last three years has she really focused on finding her voice.

Writing is an outlet. It's what offers relief when she is overflowing with creative juices. It is what keeps her company on a quiet night. And, as all writer's can relate, it is what keeps her up far too late when she should be snuggled into her pillow.
As of now, Brandi has quite a few projects she is working on, all unique in their own way, but all with an element of fantasy. A perfectionist at heart, she constantly strives to make each work better than the last. Here's to hoping you enjoy her work because there is more to come.

Connect with Brandi:
Website / Blog /Facebook page / Goodreads / Twitter / Amazon 

Talking With Michael Ogara

About The Happenstance Marshall:
When life gives Millie Boyd lemons, she sets out to save a town and she gets a badge and a gun in the process. It all starts because the small quaint lakefront City of Safe Haven Harbor is not prospering in spite of its natural advantages as a tourist destination. People and businesses should be knocking down the doors to develop in Safe Haven, but they aren’t. The city can’t afford to pay its bills and implemented lay-offs. The residents are at a loss as to why their community is languishing and cash poor when other communities close by are booming. People are finally ready for change, and the newly elected reform council has hired a young man named Mitch O’Keefe to unravel the city’s financial problems.

Mitch is thrown together through some very odd circumstances with Millie who is facing her own set of challenges. She is initially a reluctant partner to the attractive Mitch as they work to solve the mystery of why the city has no money. In doing so they set the stage for Millie to discover her talent for unraveling mysteries which exposes them both to danger. Millie is nominated for election as city marshal, and she accepts, for she knows there is more to the city's problem than a lack of cash. To fully solve the mystery she needs to be city marshal. She does not realize the danger being marshal will expose her to or the adventures and misadventures she will become involved in along the way.

I’m very pleased to welcome Michael Ogara to A Blue Million Books. Michael, first tell us how long have you been writing.
In one form or another I’ve been writing for all of my professional life; forty plus years. Most of my writing was related to writing: reports; analysis; policy papers; professional journal articles; editorials; newspaper articles; and newspaper features.

How did you go from that to writing novels?
I started fiction writing in 2011. Since then I’ve written twelve novels, eight of which are published as eBooks and all of them have been rated between four and half to five stars out of five.

Excellent. You like writing and it shows. What do you like best about writing?
What I like best is the act of storytelling and the creativity involved.

What’s your least favorite thing about writing?
If the question hadn’t stipulated “about writing” I would have said marketing is my least favorite thing about being a writer. I guess because of the way the question was asked, I’ll go with editing. To some degree I enjoy editing, because I consider it a very necessary and important function. A book that is poorly edited takes away from the flow of the story. For that reason I will usually leave a finished book sit for a while after my and my editor’s first review. Then I’ll do another edit after several weeks have passed.

I think that's important too. And I’m with you on both counts—marketing and editing are necessary evils. I do think marketing is part of an author’s writing life, so I’ll take that answer too!

I love the title The Happenstance Marshal. How did you come up it?
The title is indicative of how the main character Millie becomes city marshal: by a chance circumstance. “The Chance Circumstance Marshal” doesn’t do it as a title thus the title “The Happenstance Marshal.”  

Makes sense to me. Do you outline or write by the seat of your pants?
I don’t use a formal outline because that would stifle my creativity. It’s a personal preference, and I believe there are successful authors in both camps. I find outlines to be too confining. I’m mostly an “organic” creative writer, so I start my books with a general concept and let my imagination carry me, but often I’ll go back and change something to ensure cohesiveness.

Did you have any say in your cover art? Tell us about the artist.  
I go beyond having a say in my cover art. My wife and I both have degrees in visual art so we design the book covers. I’ve done about half of them on my own.

I am impressed. What about imaginary friends? Do you have them? When do they talk to you? 
That is an interesting question, and I would have to admit the “good guys and gals” in my books are sort of imaginary friends.

Do they tell you what to write or do you poke them with a Q-tip? I do think, figuratively speaking, that the way an author develops a character increasingly “tells” the author what to write for them as they participate in the story.

I like how you did that. You didn't confirm or deny. Very shrewd, Michael. How do you handle criticism of your work?
If it’s constructive, I’ll analyze it and determine if I think the criticism has merit, and if it has, I’ll take appropriate action. I’ve changed some minor parts of two books during the edit process because of constructive criticism.

Do you have a routine for writing? Do you work better at night, in the afternoon, or in the morning?
I do have something of a routine, but for me the creative process does not seem to be limited to a time of day. I have developed discipline, and I usually write at least six hours a day and often a lot more. Generally I start between seven and eight each morning and work until three or four in the afternoon then I’ll often do some more writing in the evening. There are days when I’m on a roll I’ll work twelve to fourteen hours. Some weeks I’ll work five days and some weeks six days. Occasionally I’ll only work four full days in a week.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?
“I’m getting tired of having to shoot dumbass criminals.” --Sheriff Millie.

I love it! Tell us what you're working on now.
I’m working on a new novel (number thirteen, and no I’m not superstitious) while getting the four new novels I’ve finished ready for release.

Why do you write?
Writing for me is like breathing; something I have to do. I have come to realize it is what I was created to do, and I enjoy it immensely.

And it shows. Michael, thank you for sharing your passion of writing with us. Good luck with the ones to come. I hope you'll stop in again when you launch another book. And folks, Michael's also a blogger. Check it out!

A  word from Michael about Michael:
I'm a full time writer of mystery, thriller and historical action adventure novels. I used to do other things including: newspaper reporter, editor, visual artist, analyst, and city manager. I didn't enjoy any of those as much as being a fiction writer.

I live in Missouri with my wife Ronda who designed some of my book covers. We both graduated from Fontbonne University in St. Louis. I earned both Master of Fine Arts and Master of Business Administration degrees there. My favorite thing to do is write books.
 
I have published eight novels, six of which are in the Millie Mystery Thriller series. The published eBook titles in the Millie series (in chronological order) are: The Happenstance Marshal, The Deliberate Sheriff, The Persistent Sheriff, The Windfall Sheriff, The Mogul Sheriff, and The Mentor Sheriff. The seventh book, The Caring Sheriff, will be released soon. 

I have also written a thriller titled Crossing Cassandra and a second book in the series is now finished and awaiting release. I have also written a historical action adventure Sword, Cross and Crown. 

I presently have four novels finished and awaiting publication. 
 
Where you can find Michael:
Website
Blog
Goodreads author page
Amazon