Monday, August 26, 2013

Featured Author: Susan Blexrud

Susan Blexrud is the author of the chick lit novel, His Fantasy Maid, published by Crimson Romance. Chick Lit Blog Tours brings her here today for an interview, and she also brought along an excerpt from the book. WARNING! This one's racy. Proceed with caution...

About the book: 

On the eve of Jake Sinclair’s bachelor party, his best man surprises him with a fantasy maid named Amy. Clad in a bikini, she cleans his house and jump starts his heart. She's beautiful, smart, and compassionate. Why is a woman like this working as a fantasy maid? A few days later, with thoughts still distracted by the enigmatic Amy, Jake crashes his car and wakes in the hospital emergency room where his fantasy maid is now wearing scrubs and wielding a stethoscope. Is she an hallucination, or is his fantasy maid a doctor?


Interview with Susan Blexrud

Susan, how did you come up with the title His Fantasy Maid?

On a trip to Orlando in December 2012, I found a pink notice taped to the front of my townhouse door, which read “Bikini Maid Services, 20 percent OFF.” After removing the notice from the door (and wondering how long it had been there), I tucked it into my purse to share with friends. Surely, only in Orlando would there be a service like this. Up here in the mountains of North Carolina where I live most of the year, it’s too dang cold to wear a bikini. However, after a Google search, I found out there are fantasy maid services all across the U.S. Who knew?

And then I recalled something Carl Hiaasen had said (I’ve seen him speak three times). He writes about some pretty bizarre characters, like an ex-governor of Florida who hangs out in the Everglades and eats road kill. I doubt that character was based on a REAL ex-governor, but nonetheless, Mr. Hiaasen’s contention is, “You can’t make this stuff up.” As a reporter for the Miami Herald, he should know.

This is where I started applying “what if…” to that little pink notice. What if…a brilliant medical student moonlights as a fantasy maid to pay the expenses of medical school? What if…a handsome, yet nerdy, young lawyer is poised to marry a social-climbing bitch? What if…as the preamble to the lawyer’s bachelor party, his best man surprises him with a fantasy maid? What if…this fantasy maid has him re-thinking his marriage plans? And so, a book was born.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

I owned a public relations firm in Orlando, and I’ve been involved in the profession for 35 years. During that time, I’ve worked in hospital communications and public affairs for government. I’ve been a political speechwriter and was director of communications for the City of Orlando. Currently, I still have a couple of public relations clients, and I work part-time.

Give us your best tweet for His Fantasy Maid. (140 characters or less.)

How far will a bright girl go to get what she wants? 

Did you have any say in your cover art? Did you have any say in it?

I am thrilled with the cover, and yes, I had some say. Since Jake Sinclair is NOT an alpha-type hero, I provided a couple of photos of someone I thought looked the part. The super graphics team at Crimson Romance took it from there. ( I think I’ve seen the male model on the cover in a television automobile commercial.)

How do you get to know your characters?

I use a terrific character chart that is available to authors at www.charlottedillon.com

When you start a new book, do you know what the entire cast will be?
               
No, I don’t, but I’m a woman who greatly values female friendships, so I always know that there will be secondary female characters who are important to the plot. In this book, Amy’s friend Ellen plays an integral role.

Which character did you most enjoy writing?

I enjoyed writing dim-witted Matt because he has such a good heart, and I’m a sucker for heroes with high emotional intelligence, even when their intellect may be sub par.

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

Truly, for me, this is one of the easiest aspects of my writing. They float to me on a cloud.

Lucky you! Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.

Jake’s drug-induced dream sequence is probably my favorite scene. And here it is….
The drugs are kicking in big time now.  Goodnight moon.

I’m at the front of the church in my tux, stifling a sneeze. The sanctuary is covered in gardenias, my least favorite flower. I hate their cloying scent. I have a stabbing pain between the eyes. Sam is next to me. My dad and mom are in the front row, and mom’s crying. Maybe the gardenias have gotten to her, too. 

The bridesmaids, in neon blue, take their places, and we all look expectantly to the front of the church for the bride. Claudia wants to walk down the aisle to Pachelbel’s Canon, so I’m surprised when Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” begins to fill the church. I look at Sam, who just shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world for his sister to change her mind at the last minute.

I flex my hands, and then fold them in front of me. I straighten, locking my knees. I start to teeter, and then catch myself. I’m nauseated. The wedding guests along the aisle have all put on party hats and are blowing noisemakers…to the music. This I find a bit odd.

On her father’s arm, Claudia glides toward the altar. From this distance, I can’t see through her veil. Really, a veil? What is this, the 1950s? When her father hands her off to me, she raises the lace.  It’s not Claudia.  It’s Amy.  And I’m thrilled, ecstatic, on the verge of hyperventilating. In fact, I’m so excited I can barely get through the ceremony. My cheeks hurt from grinning. I keep motioning for the minister to hurry things up. The more I motion, the slower he gets. When the pastor finally pronounces us man and wife, I kiss her quickly, pick her up, and literally run up the aisle. I carry her into a room off the antechamber. It’s the room where the bride and her bridesmaids dress. I know this isn’t proper. We must have a honeymoon planned, but I don’t care. I have to have her this very moment.

She doesn’t object to my urgency. In fact, she points to a settee and starts hiking up her floor length gown. She kneels on the settee. She’s wearing a lace garter belt, shimmery nylons, and the sweetest little thong. Do women still wear garter belts? Amy does. I push aside her diminutive thong. I’ve waited my whole life for this moment, when I claim the woman I love as my own. My cock is the size of Mr. Green Jeans’ prize cucumber. 

Something nudges my shoulder.
“Wake up, Mr. Sinclair. I need to take your vitals.” 
I peel my eyelids open. A nurse is staring down at me, and Amy stands in the doorway.  Someone’s made a tent in my bed. Oh, no, it’s not a tent. It’s my boner, sticking straight up like the main pole in a three-ring circus. It should be obvious that my vitals are, well, vital.

Where’s home for you?

I live in idyllic Asheville, North Carolina.

Oh my gosh, one of my favorite places! Tell us one weird thing, one nice thing, and one fact about where you live.


Asheville is where weird is normal…and normal is weird. No one cares about what kind of car you drive or how much jewelry you have. It’s the town of previously-important people.

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

I get it far more often than I’d like…and for weeks at a time. Generally, I just have to push through, and while much of what I write while I’m pushing is unadulterated crap, I can usually find a few kernels that give me hope to carry on.               

Excerpt from His Fantasy Maid

If I believed the adage, “you are what you do,” my self-concept would be in the toilet, so to speak. I clean houses in a bikini or French maid get-up, client’s choice, which contributes little to making the world a better place. As a result, my adage is, “you are what you become,” because I’m becoming a doctor. 

But today, I’m Amy Maitland, fantasy maid.

My best friend and fellow medical resident, Ellen, knows about my undercover life working for Fantasy Maids, but she’s the only one. If word got out at the College of Medicine, I’d be the laughingstock of the University of Central Florida. My five brothers know I work as a housemaid, which they respect as good, honest labor, but they don’t know the fantasy aspect. Protective (and controlling) men that they are, they’d lock me up.

That being said, it’s not the worst job in the world. I’ve been a fantasy maid for almost two years, and so far, none of my clients has tried to assault me. But it’s always a possibility, considering Florida’s propensity for perverts. The company (i.e. Rex, the owner, and a part-time secretary) arms us with pepper spray and an emergency hotline number (Rex’s cell phone), and they screen the customers to make sure no one’s a registered sex offender. They also arrange our appointments, and Rex is good about following up…within four or five days…to make sure we survived the gig. 

Still, being alone with a strange guy in his apartment is enough to get anyone’s adrenalin pumping, and I never go into a new situation without first sending up a prayer. I always let Ellen know where I’m going, and I carry a rosary, even though I’m not Catholic.

Today, I’m heading to a condominium in stylish Winter Park, just north of Orlando. The address alone is comforting. It’s just off Park Avenue in a nice neighborhood, and it’s next door to a church. But, I remind myself, Ted Bundy lived in a nice neighborhood.  Let’s face it; serial killers can look like the boy next door.

About the author:

Susan Blexrud grew up in Orlando, Florida, and now lives in Asheville, North Carolina, with her husband of 27 years, John, who proposed to her on New Year’s Eve 1985 on the Venice-Simplon Orient Express, halfway between Paris and Vienna. Their son Chris lives and works in Manhattan, and daughter Allison is a college junior. Susan has a Chihuahua named Baby and a cockatiel named Romeo. She is an avid reader, and she leads two monthly book clubs in Asheville.  She is a walker and Yoga enthusiast. She enjoys quilting and bird watching (loves hummingbirds), and most of all, writing her next story. 
 
Website | Blog | Facebook | Amazon






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Cover reveal: The Promise


The Promise (Coven, #1)

by Apryl Baker

Synopsis:

Armed with kick-ass shoes, can CJ stop a maniacal coven leader, save the town, and still get Mr. Melt In Your Mouth Gorgeous while surviving the darkness coming for her?

The smoke from the fire burned her eyes, its heat caressed her skin and the taste of fear choked her. She was going to burn just as her ancestor did all those centuries ago in New Salem Village. How could she have been so wrong about everything?

Cassie Jayne Bishop grew up the only non-believer in town of Coven. When a stranger comes to the sleepy town of New Salem, everything she thought was true unraveled around her. Ethan made her question everything, even her sister’s death. Clues start to pile up and Cassie is determined to find out if the Coven was the real reason her sister died.

What she uncovers terrifies her to the very depths of her soul...

Other books by Apryl Baker:


From the author:   

So who am I? Well, I'm the crazy girl with an imagination that never shuts up. I LOVE scary movies. My friend Chazz laughs at me when I scare myself watching them and tells me to stop watching them, but who doesn't love to get scared? I grew up in a small town nestled in the southern mountains of West Virginia where I spent days roaming around in the woods, climbing trees, and causing general mayhem. Nights I would stay up reading Nancy Drew by flashlight under the covers until my parents yelled at me to go to sleep. Growing up in a small town, I learned a lot of values and morals, I also learned parents have spies everywhere and there's always someone to tell your mama on you. So when you get grounded, what is there left to do? Read! My Aunt Jo gave me my first real romance novel. It was a romance titled "Lord Margrave's Deception." I remember it fondly. But I also learned I had a deep and abiding love of mysteries and anything paranormal. As I grew up, I started to write just that and would entertain my friends with stories featuring them as main characters. Now, I live Huntersville, NC where I entertain my family and watch the cats get teased by the birds and laugh myself silly when they swoop down and then dive back up just out of reach. The cats start yelling something fierce...lol. I love books, I love writing books, and I love entertaining people with my silly stories. You can reach me at any of these places:
PS: DO NOT GET IN MY WAY IF THERE IS A SALE ON AT TARGET - my home away from home! 

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Featured Author: Dan O'Brien


Welcome to the Hobbes Family blog tour. It will run until September 2nd and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

The world had ended abruptly and without warning. How will a family navigate a world that seems bent on destroying them? Follow them in this exciting new serial adventure.


A few questions for the author:


What’s the thing you’re most satisfied with?

I am most satisfied with continuing to move forward in pursuit of my dreams. I love writing and I love helping people see their work in print (or digitally) and I could not be happier with the way it makes me feel.


When was the last time you laughed and what did you laugh at?

It was probably some comedy on TV. I am easily amused, though I don't always laugh until I cry. Honestly, I can't recall.


Are you doing anything which makes you and people around you happy?

Pursuing what I love makes me happier, and therefore makes the people who love me happy. Starting a consulting business and putting together an anthology have really helped other writers feel happy about their dream to be published.



Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:


As Michael looked out the broken window of the convenience store, he recalled the last remnants of humanity that been flushed from him like so much waste that day. 

Winter had set in. 

The tall blue oaks that surrounded the building on two sides were dusted with frost; the ground was an amalgam of crystal sheets broken only by brave stalks of undergrowth that dared the frigid touch of the gales. 

The interior of the building would not serve as a long-term solution. However, it would be useful until the weather broke. 

The trek out of the suburban areas, even ones as small as those in the Sacramento Valley, had begun in the family Subaru. Highway 99 had been so congested, so overrun with smoldering and abandoned vehicles that the Hobbes family was forced to make the remainder of the trek on foot. Winter had not been as absurd as it had been during the past month. Often the snow levels came down into the valley for a day, sprinkling unsuspecting areas with brief, beautiful moments of frozen precipitation. 

This was different. 

A storm had settled in the valley, trapped and angry. 

When the sun managed to peek through the clouds above, there was a moment when it almost felt bearable. But the great star was soon obfuscated behind a gray wall once more, bloated and teeming with fury as a fresh zephyr of snow and blinding particulates dragged the valley. 

Before the fall of civilization, Susanna had begun to gain a little weight; the difference now was drastic. Her high cheekbones were prominent and the sallowness of her cheeks from periodic starvation saddened Michael as much as he was capable. 

He had not fared much better. 

His beard had grown in with dark clumps and gray patches that had no doubt taken residence from the stress that had become everyday life. His neat hair had become bedraggled and curly in places despite its length. Had it been on purpose, he could have imagined Susanna running her long fingers through it and calling it cute.

The store had weathered the apocalypse. 

Shelves remained intact for the most part, though they were barren fields. The coolers had been left open and the power had long since faded. Overturned cans, smashed and left for dead, littered the floor. 

It had served as a last stand for someone. 

The doors and windows were adorned with long wooden planks cast in random patterns. A length of coiled chain looped through the front doors––chime removed. The open register was a dusty beach before the sunglasses tree, broken lenses covering the counter. 

Susanna approached slowly. 

Clara walked beside her mother in silence. 

As they neared Michael, the young girl reached out her arms and wrapped them around her father’s neck. Patting her back, he felt emotion surge in for just a brief moment. He pushed it down and looked at the wide eyes of his wife––the distance there saddened him.

She had been vibrant before the world went to shit. 

Susanna had what could modestly be called a sunny disposition. She was always laughing and hugging people, a bright smile painted on her simple features. That beauty made her perfect in a way that Michael could never properly articulate, especially now that such simple joy was gray-washed by despair. 






Bio: 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/.


Thursday, August 22, 2013

Featured Author: J. Frank Dunkin

Today I'm happy to feature another work of Southern fiction, Bones of My Brother, by J. Frank Dunkin. To be published by Two Harbors Press, it's scheduled to launch on November 5, 2013. I think y'all are gonna love it...

8/31/13 Note: I'm shocked and saddened to report the sudden death of J. Frank Dunkin in late August, just days after he was featured here. His good friend Betty Summerlin will see that his book is still published this fall. Betty told me he received the galley last weekend, approved the final few changes on Tuesday, and died happy knowing that his book was finally published. I hope it sells a million plus copies. Please check out this book, folks. I will update this page when the buy links are available. 

1/17/14 Update: I am beyond sad to report that the publishing of Bones of My Brother has been put on indefinite hold. This is heartbreaking news, but I will update this page when I can finally share the publication date.

About the book:

From Alabama at mid‐century, there’d been John and his Evelyn — now from Minnesota at century’s end, Price and his Joy — two couples whose struggles ran as parallel as rails on a track. Had John Hobson’s smile been erased by a long ago war, or had he suffered a more defining chapter in his life? And what of his son, Price, the small‐town boy who stamped his mark upon a corporate world that would ultimately crumble about him?

For one man, there'd been the lure of “Music City” versus the love of his treasured Evie. For the other, there'd been the heady rush of success followed by a precipitous fall from grace. To be sure, a shroud of guilt had marked both men, but when Price learns of his late father’s ambition, his obsession with the past places his marriage in dire jeopardy.

John Hobson was gone now, interred “. . . in nested containers of earth, box and body,” but the secret of his lifelong angst lay not beneath the hot soil of Gethsemane's cemetery, but beneath God's tree in a tiny glade one county over. In the end, a son’s desire to bring his father’s dream to fruition triggers deadly consequences, initiating a journey along a more imperative path.

Bones of My Brother is a compelling look at failure and redemption — humanity and spirituality. At turns heartfelt and raw, this family saga is full of love and intrigue with characters facing questions about the conflict of dreams and reality, love and lust. Could it be that the answers provide a revelation, the seed of a new beginning?

Interview with J. Frank Dunkin

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

…since I was twelve years old. I was visiting a friend who lived in a rural part of Perry County, Alabama, a redundant description because almost all of Perry County is rural.  Noticing that I had not seen his mother all morning, I asked if she had gone shopping or something. He said, “No, she’s upstairs writing.” Now, who knows why this little kid was so fascinated by that, but I was. When she came downstairs later, we talked a bit about her writing, whereupon I promptly went home and wrote a short story about a rookie baseball player. I passed it on to my friend’s mom for a critique, and she graciously ignored my “rookie” writing style to offer praise and encouragement for my enthusiasm.  That woman was Mary Ward Brown, who in later years became one of America’s most beloved short story writers. She passed away this year at age 95.

What a great story! Do you have another job outside of writing?

No, I’m retired from the shopping center development business, where I was Director of Real Estate for national retail chains for twenty-five years.

How would you describe your book in six words?

Father-son saga - their love stories.

How did you create the plot for Bones of My Brother?

I realize a lot of writers work from an outline. I tried that, but once I was into the third chapter, the story started leading me where it wanted to go. In Bones of My Brother, the plot emerged in such a way that it was necessary on dozens of occasions to go back and fill in essential foreshadowing. In a way, you might say this story was written from the inside out, and that the characters themselves demanded a certain plot.

I think that's the best kind of book. What’s your favorite line from a book?

I’ll answer that one with a paragraph from a single book:
“Macomb was an old town, but a tired old town when I first knew it. In rainy weather the streets turned to red slop; grass grew on the sidewalks, the courthouse sagged in the square.  Somehow, it was hotter then: a black dog suffered on a summer’s day; bony mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square.  Men’s stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning.  Ladies bathed before noon, after their three o’clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.” 
…I’m guessing ninety percent of your readers will know exactly where that paragraph can be found.

No spoiler here. Tell us a book you’re an evangelist for.

The Liberation of Lord Byron Jones – by Jesse Hill Ford.  It is a spot-on dissertation of race relations in the Deep South of the 1960’s that is told from both white and black perspectives. The novel was made into a movie for which Ford wrote the screenplay as well. As a result of his writings, he received numerous death threats, which led to an unfortunate incident in which he saw a strange car parked in his drive late one night. He shot the intruder, who turned out to be a young black soldier who had picked that spot for a romantic interlude with his girlfriend. He was tried for murder but not convicted. He never recovered from the psychological impact of this event and later took his own life.

How do you get to know your characters?

They talk to me as I write, and coy and shy as they might initially seem, we eventually become good friends. After spending years conversing with these wonderful friends, it is difficult to let them go. Finishing a novel brings both exultation and a great sense of loss.

Which character did you most enjoy writing?

Old Jesse, who embodies the true spirit of the story’s central theme. Jesse was a poor, giant, muscular black man with a gentle spirit. In the story, he is both a hero and a philosopher. I patterned his appearance after a true-to-life person I knew in my childhood.

Are you like any of your characters?

I am very much like one of the protagonists, Price Hobson. We shared the same type childhoods, both graduated from Auburn University, both were in shopping center development, both lived in a major Midwestern city, traveled constantly, liked our Manhattans shaken with a cherry and twist, both… well, to be honest, I am Price Hobson – although, I will hasten to add that all the other characters are fictional.

With which of your characters would you most like to be stuck in a bookstore?

May I use a little levity here? It would be Bree Montayne, the Irish seductress.

But of course! With what five real people would you most like to be stuck in a bookstore?

I assume you mean writers? If I may choose from the living as well as from the deceased, I would choose O. Henry, Anton Chekov, Ernest Hemingway, Edgar A. Poe, and Harper Lee.

Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.

One of my favorite scenes would be from chapter 6 titled, “God Made Them Folks.”
 
It is Thanksgiving, 1941 at the Langston Farm House, where a majority of the story’s main characters are assembled for the annual feast in a quaint country setting. The scene begins humorously with the meal’s blessing being said as a sentence prayer, passing from one character to the next: 

“Uh, Dear God,” began Sammy, “I’m—I mean we’re—we’re right thankful for this dressing and this big old Tom turkey, and—well, you know, I reckon for all of it, Lord, but especially this turkey. Thank you.”

The order passed over an empty chair, and Nell began her meek mechanics. “Father in Heaven, we thank Thee for this day of Thanksgiving and for this bounty—” The drone of an approaching car prodded Nell’s voice to rise in joyous harmony. “—and for these present and him that’s about to be present at the feast of Your table.” She finished fast and strong, and biting her lower lip, exchanged gleeful glances with Evelyn.

The sentence continued, speeding around the squash, over the okra, and past the mashed potatoes. Now it tarried near the turkey, catching its breath near the head of the table. Earl waited in the kitchen, his timing impeccable, as Wayne Wilkins stole into the living room, silently practicing his excuse.

“All glory be to the Father from whence all good comes!” boomed Mr. Langston. “Lord, our forefathers broke bread with the heath-ern on this day in thankfulness to Thee, so it’s only fittin’ we do the same.”

Sammy packaged his giggle as a burp, but it issued from taut lips like the whistle of a tiny teakettle. When the prayer was finally finished, he avoided John’s eyes.

From this point, the conversation turns to talk of war and discrimination against Jews in Central Europe. Comparisons are made with race relations there in their own little county, ending with a jaw to jaw confrontation over the Thanksgiving feast.

What song would you pick to go with your book?

Bones of My Brother contains two original songs of the country genre, representative of the era of the father in the story, so I would choose those two (“Heaven Sent Evelyn” and “Wanderlust”), which were recorded in Nashville in July. But I would also choose Muzetta’s Waltz and Clair de Lune, the type of music preferred by the son.

Book Trailer




How long is your to-be-read pile?


A wise college professor, whose name I forget, once told me to read all the tried and true classics that have withstood the test of time. So I started with the book of Genesis and after all these years I’m still trying to finish the classics – there are thousands of them. If I ever finish that list, I will move on to writers who are actually still living.

Where’s home for you?

Foley, Alabama, on the Gulf Coast.

Whoa! I know exactly where that is. My father and step-mother live in Fairhope. Small world! But I digress...Neil Gaiman said, “Picking five favorite books is like picking five body parts you'd most like not to lose.” So…what are your five favorite books and your five body parts you’d most like not to lose?

The Collected Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway, Tongues of Flame, The Complete Edgar Allan Poe Tales, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Proverbs… but ask me this question again next week, and my answer might be different. (I have a lot of body parts I don’t want to lose!)

Oh, that's cheating! Your last meal would be…


Fried minute steak, mashed potatoes, beefsteak tomatoes, cantaloupe, and asparagus. (I just threw asparagus in to see if anyone was listening.)

Yeah, you had me until asparagus. You won the lottery. What’s the first thing you would buy?

Security for my grandchildren (just before leaving on a six-month world cruise).

Very wise. You can be any fictional character for one day. Who would you be?

Atticus Finch.

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

Somewhere along France’s Cote ‘d Azure—-maybe Antibes.

An excerpt from Bones of My Brother:

FROM CHAPTER 34


That night, Jesse’s sermon made its way into my dreams, and I awoke with a start. Had it been my old friend’s chiding or the wind that had disturbed me? I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was past midnight, yet the room was washed in a twilight glow that softened Joy’s features in shades of pastel. Thinking I’d heard windchimes, I stood and pulled back the drape. Before me lay an icy lawn punctured with glittering trees, each a crystal chandelier. The storm had moved eastward, leaving the snow-covered lawn a canvas of shadows rendered in bold strokes by an inspired moon.

Why had I been so reluctant to read the Christmas story? I imagined the answer stemmed from the fact that I’d compromised my beliefs a thousand times in business since those early Christmas Eves. During my years with Merriam-Bellows, I’d come to realize that most of what I heard at conventions in Vegas and across conference tables from New York to San Francisco had been dishonesty and deception, and I’d learned to fight fire with fire. I’d bested them at their own game. Deceit had become commonplace, and only in recent months had I begun to recognize and regret what I’d become. I’d heard and uttered the phrase, “It’s just business” so often that I’d come to believe it.

Somehow I’d managed to hold this philosophy at bay in my personal life, and so it seemed I’d become two separate people. Such a person had no business leading a Bible study or taking part in Communion. But just when had my love of family replaced my love of God? I didn’t know, and perhaps it no longer mattered. I had my wife, my children, and now I had a grandchild.

I thought of little Liz in her slumber, sheltered and protected by loving parents and how wonderful it was to witness the blossoming of their parental instincts. It stimulated memories of my own parents and summoned, as well, those nights Joy and I had stood near our own children’s beds, touched by their innocence, awestruck by our responsibility. I pulled my robe from the bedpost and set off down the hall in search of yesterday.


The little one lay on her back, her tiny head turned to the side. Below the upturned nose, her perfect lips were parted, and her breathing was peaceful. I reached down and placed my palm softly upon the chest of an angel. Often I’d stood this way with my own babies, and each time a profound energy had fed through my fingers, flowing the length of my arm to flush my heart with wonder. So Jesse’s philosophy was that life is not about dreams or family. Dreams? I’d conceded those all my life. But family? Of course life was about family! What else was there?

A stream of light entered the room, and I knew I’d been caught. “Dad,” said Rachel, “what are you doing?”

“Falling in love!” I whispered.




About the author:

J. Frank Dunkin grew up in Marion, Alabama during the heyday of the Grand Ole Opry and the birth of Rock and Roll. To him, the days were golden, nights were sweet, and movies offered escape to the Wild West or South Pacific. Graduating from Auburn University with a degree in Fine Arts, Dunkin served a tour of duty in Korea and worked as art director for small publications before moving into the world of corporate real estate. His stories draw heavily from his own experiences and travels. 

Connect with the author:
Website (still under development) | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter

Bones of My Brother will be available on Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.com.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Featured Author: Steve Margles

Family activities and Parenting book, Notes from: Your Friend, The Tooth Fairy is not written by Steve Margles. Well, he compiled the book, but he swears the notes and the introduction were written by a fairy. Thanks to Virtualbookworm Publishing for bringing Steve here today.



About the book:

Notes from: Your Friend, The Tooth Fairy is meant as an illustration of a too often missed opportunity. It is hoped that children, parents, and grandparents who read it will use it as an inspiration. Upon losing the first tooth, be sure that your child leaves not only the tooth but also a brief note requesting a communication from The Fairy. You may be amazed at the wonderful responses that result. The illustration consists of the actual, unedited collection of the notes left for Samantha Margles by her Tooth Fairy, along with a contemporaneous photograph. Included is a scrapbook for you and your child to use. This will make it fun and easy to save the notes. Keeping them with a timely photograph will, once completed, produce a highly treasured keepsake!

Interview with Steve Margles

Steve, how did you come up with the title of your book?

Given the subject of my publication, the title was really a “no brainer.”  We played around with “Letters from”, and “Things received signed,” but they didn’t seem right.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

Most of my job IS outside of writing. As I transition into retirement, however, I hope to devout more time to it, or at least to the promotion of this book. I think of this book as a concept book. A lost tooth is an opportunity. Too many people miss this great opportunity for communication with young children.

How would you describe your book in six words?

Beautiful, poignant, imaginative, meaningful, forever timely.

How did the idea for this book come about?

The growth and development of my children, all the fun, pain and wonderment of growing up dictated the plot.

What’s your favorite line from a book?

"Would you take a train ride with me?   Is that a proposition?     No darling, it’s a proposal.”  Actually it’s not a book it’s a movie, “North By Northwest.” Gary Grant asks Eva Marie Saint. I used it in asking my wife to marry me. She had to pick up her cue, which she did after a momentary hesitation.

I love that. Are you like any of your characters?

I hope I am just like the Fairies who looked after my children, kind, understanding, intelligent, compassionate with a great sense of humor.

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


That’s a tough one. I love both Samantha’s and Shawn’s fairy. Choosing between them would be a question for Solomon.

What are your favorite songs?


I really have very few favorites. That goes for color, flowers, and food. I like so many things I don’t feel its necessary to rank one ahead of another. There are many songs I like, some for the melody, some for the words. A few of the songs I can identify with are:

"The Impossible dream" (Man of La Mancha)
"Tomorrow" (Annie)
"My First Love Song" (Roar of the Greasepaint, Smell of the Crowd)
"If you go away-Ne Me Quitte Pas-" (Patricia Kass, Piano Bar)

What song would you pick to go with your book?

I would use a great melody that I used for a scene in a movie I made of a trip to Africa.  I’ve searched and can’t find the name. It was light and smooth and magical. Can I get back to you on that?

Sure. Just don't forget. (LOL) Who are your favorite authors?

The books I have loved the most are usually fantasy or sci/fy. The entire series by Julian May starting with The Saga of Pilocene Exile and continuing on with The Galactic Milieu Series. Terry Brooks has a fun series, which starts with Magic Kingdom for Sale/Sold! I loved James Michener’s The Tell.

You won the lottery.  What is the first thing you would buy? 
                                
The things I want most can’t be bought.


About the author: 

Steven W. Margles, M.D. is the compiler of this book and makes no claims to authorship.  The introduction and Notes are the original work of Samantha’s Fairy. Steven was born in NYC in 1948 and lived in New York State until going into practice as a Hand Surgeon at The Lahey Clinic in 1979. He developed the section of Hand Surgery at Lahey Clinic, which has expanded five fold. His particular expertise is in the treatment of professional boxers including four world and several national champions. It is ironic that a doctor who improved the ability to knock teeth out has made his first publication about Tooth Fairies. He lives in Winchester, MA with his wife Tricia, their four cats and 6 fish.


Connect with Steve:                      Buy the book:
Website | Blog | Facebook         Amazon | Barnes & Noble   

      

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Featured Author: Dan O'Brien


Welcome to the fourth day of the Mondays with Mephistopheles: 9am - Rhys blog tour. It will run until August 25th and will feature excerpts and new author interviews each day. But first, here is the obligatory blurb about the novel to settle you into this strange world:

Abraham Rogers has an unusual psychotherapy practice: monsters. This first installment is a session with Rhys, the IT vampire who can’t quite connect with the modern world the way he would like.


A few questions for the author:


What do you want from life?

To achieve my goals. I have been moving in that direction and it feels good to stay determined and persevere. I keep making new goals, which will make sure that I am always pursing something. I just want to continue doing what I want to do....


If you were granted three wishes, what would you ask for?

Is an infinite number of wishes on the table? If so, then that. Otherwise, wisdom, patience, and clarity.


What three things would you take to a Desert Island?

My Kindle with all of my books (I can fashion a charging station out of a pineapple. Don't believe me? Search YouTube), my wife, and my survival bag.



Here be an excerpt for your enjoyment:


Abe knew that Rhys suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder, though it was more likely a bout of generalized anxiety tied to some kind of recent drama. 

It had taken Abe several sessions to become accustomed to the idiosyncratic behavior of the moody child of the night. As a psychologist he was supposed to remain composed, but the first few sessions bordered on frightening. 

Rhys had on more than one occasion threatened him with bloodletting if he continued down a particular course of questioning. This passed as the vampire soon revealed his aversion to the sight of blood and the passion with which he dreaded violence. 

“What of social engagements?”

Rhys collected himself before speaking. “In 400 years I have bedded many women, but Eileen was different. She was unfettered by my flights of sorrow. At first she thought it was going to be blood and bondage, but she soon saw that we are just bored with this world.”

“We have not spoken of Eileen in some time, Rhys. Have you done what I suggested?”

“Go out and meet people. Are you quite mad?”

Abe and Rhys came to this point often. “You came to me because you wished to overcome some of your fears, some of the things that were holding you back. You asked me to treat you as any other patient because the alienation and loneliness was at the very center of your concerns.”

Rhys nodded and motioned with his hands. “Do not get flustered. I recall what I said.”

“Very good. So have you?”

“I created a profile on one of this computer dating sites. That is not how a man met a woman in my time.”

Abe smiled. “Things have indeed changed.”

“I get these messages from women wondering if I am a goth or if I am an Anne Rice fan. I find the process disgusting.”

“Disgusting how?”

“I am not a literary character beholden to some novelist somewhere.”

“Do you take offense to the portrayal of your kind in the media? In fiction?”

Rhys leaned back into the couch, his reed-like frame consumed by the cushions. “Not all of them. Stoker did not terribly displease me. I prefer Mrs. Rice’s portrayal of my people, even if we are not as refined and romantic as the masses would hope. These sparkly, brooding types obsessed with teenagers paint us as horny men incapable of satiating our lust for youth. A terrible literary metaphor if I have ever seen one.”




Bio: 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/.




All of his books are only 99 cents on Kindle right now!


Download Mondays with Mephistopheles for free on Kindle from 8/21 until 8/25!


Would you like to win a Kindle Fire?

Visit http://thedanobrienproject.blogspot.com/ and follow the blog for a chance to win a Kindle Fire!


Sunday, August 18, 2013

Featured Author: Sam Berretti

About Double Mayhem:

They say for every person in the world there is a twin. For Doris Watson, that simple wisdom becomes a nightmare reality that threatens her and the ones she’s come to love. An ex-military engineer who leads a quiet life as an appliance designer, she is recruited to perform one uncomplicated task: take a handoff of secret plans from a Chinese agent who believes she is someone else. She accepts the assignment and the only person she can blame is herself. She opened the door. She said yes. Her lonely existence is shattered as headstrong men cross her path. Dangerous men with dangerous needs. Suddenly embroiled in mob killings, espionage, and police investigations, she has become a billion-dollar target of sadistic crooks, the FBI, the NSA, and her psychotic look-alike. It is up to her to protect herself and the psychic child who has been thrust into her life. No one is who they appear to be. No one is telling the truth, because the truth can make you dead. Forced to use all her training and wits, she must find a way to survive. Forced to uncover the secrets of her childhood, she must face a new reality. Some days you just shouldn’t answer the door.

Excerpt from Sam Berretti's Double Mayhem

Chapter 1

A frail shadow of a woman sat huddled and trembling in a worn leather chair in Chicago. Tracked-in snow melted on the dull carpet from the heavy shoes of two intruders. Dressed in dark overcoats they loomed over her like dark mountains. There would be no good ending to this. She knew that. She wasn’t going to tell them what they wanted. She wouldn’t.

    “Where is she? Just tell us and we’re outta here,” the shorter mountain lied. “We ain’t gonna hurt nobody. We just want to talk to her, sweetheart.” This loser is not going to cooperate. She’s dead. She just doesn’t know it yet. But she’ll talk before she dies. He liked it when they didn’t cooperate. He was good at getting people to talk. That’s why they’d sent him. He enjoyed his job.

    Outside a freezing wind dumped snow on grey buildings and people went about their own lives unaware. But no action goes without consequence, and no consequence goes without causing yet more actions. Some are seen and felt, some are invisible, and some reach thousands of miles and touch the lives of the unsuspecting.

*****

    Tick, tock. Doris Watson stared into the mirror on the bathroom wall of her Maryland apartment and smiled ruefully. A blind date. She shook her head. She was twenty-seven years old this week, and going on a blind date. Was there something wrong with this picture? She was a strong willed woman and a successful professional engineer, but her only significant other was Bucky the cat. A woman approaching thirty was expected to be seriously searching for that special someone to spend her life with. So the office chatter said, so her dear pushy aunt said. Time to get on the stick. Clock’s ticking.  She leaned forward over the sink and scanned the face before her with critical hazel eyes. She hated all of this. Her philosophy was, if it was meant to be, by God, it would happen. Mr. Right would kick her door down and demand her hand. She smiled at herself. What a joke. She felt ill at ease dating. That was the truth. The rituals, the expectations, the disappointments, all gave her a headache and drove her nuts.  She was a person who liked the comfort of her simple life. Go to work, design some amazing device, come home, feed the cat and read a book. Good enough. Simple. Not good enough for co-worker Betty though. She could kill Betty for setting her up with this guy, a professor at the university who was probably a 10 on the nerd scale. Trapped, obligated and coerced into a blind date. Happy birthday Doris!  The doorbell rang.

    Doris was a complex woman with a distrust of men. Her personal experiences had not always been on the sunny side. In fact, some had been on the “Satan’s got you by the throat” side. She capped her lipstick and slipped it into her purse, right next to her 32 caliber Guardian. Mace just wasn’t good enough for her anymore. She looked in the mirror one last time and tried pasting an expansive smile on her face before answering the door. Tick, tock.
   

About Sam Berretti:

Sam Berretti was born and raised in the High Plains town of Lubbock, Texas. After finishing college at Texas Tech University Sam moved to Florida to attend graduate school at the University of Florida. Sam is an avid naturalist and photographer as well as a writer. Although writing started at an early age and took many forms, the first published book was Double Mayhem in 2012. The most amazing and enjoyable part of creating this work as a writer, he says, was watching the characters seem to take on a life of their own. As the plot evolved, situations would often be driven by how they would react to one another, the natural and logical flow of dialogue. What would a person like this do in a situation like this? What would a personality like this say to someone or what action would they demand? In this way they became like real people and helped chart the course of their own stories.

Connect with Sam:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads
   
Buy the book:
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords