Featured Author: Welcome Cole

Virtualbookworm.com brings Welcome Cole here to promote his fantasy/adventure novel, The Pleasure of Memory, Volume One of the Blood Caeyl Memories. Today Cole has a guest post and an excerpt from the book.

About the book: 



Beam is a smuggler, a murderer, and a rogue, who lives by the age-old rules of "Finders, keepers" and "To thy own self be true". Abandoned by his family and raised in a run-down priory by an old monk, he is consumed by his anger. He measures the worth of the world's citizens less by the character of their hearts than the gold he can pick from their pockets.

However, when he receives a mysterious message from his long dead mother, his carefully constructed rules of priority and self-interest are changed forever. Wrapped within that message is an ancient map that leads him far south to the reservations of the Vaemyn, a race of savages forcefully sequestered from the world by the civilized Allied Nations. Once there, he searches through a burial ground the size of a small city where he finds an ancient artifact called the Blood Caeyl, a rare red crystal carved in the image of a sensuous eye that he believes will make him rich beyond his dreams.

In his flight, he crosses paths with Chance Gnoman, a powerful Water Caeyl Mage. When Chance recognizes the Blood Caeyl, he explains the importance of the artifact in the war that is about to ensue. The artifact begins to change Beam, awakening the memories of a thousand lifetimes, and with those memories, the powers of a god.

Guest Post by Welcome Cole

The Evolution of the Blood Caeyl Memories:

The Pleasure of Memory was born from a dare. Or perhaps challenge is the better description. Years back, I was discussing the art of writing with a dear friend, a fellow devotee and author of fantastic fiction. We were discussing the evolution of The Story. The conversation was something akin to a literary version of the creation versus evolution debate. Did the best stories evolve through careful structuring of the plot and characters prior to the actual writing, similar to God’s Seven Day Plan? Or did they grow organically from the kernel of a planted idea, flowing initially as a kind of free association that gradually evolves into a life form?

I clearly favored the latter.

To prove his point, my friend then initiated the challenge. He provided me with an opening sentence, and double dog dared me to grow it into a story. The opening line he graciously delivered to me was “It’s a good day to be you,” written as a quote. Looking at that seed, I was pretty certain it wasn’t an acorn that could grow a mighty oak. I figured I’d be fortunate if it grew a milkweed.

After several fruitless months of writing, wadding, trashing, writing, wadding, and trashing, I decided to take a more scholarly tack. I cheated. I took a concept I’d been playing in my head for about a year, but hadn’t yet started on, and I placed the dare sentence at the beginning of it. Now, in all fairness to myself, I have to say that I still wrote this story organically from a simple premise and without benefit of a storyboard, but while starting from a different seed. However, in using his second dare seed, the concept of my original premise was dramatically changed. You might say this story arose from genetically modified stock.

Three books later, the project has evolved into a complex story of good versus evil, of a man forced outside the comfort zone of his own greed and self-importance, of the allies he unwittingly finds among his enemies, of his metamorphosis into the human and, ultimately, god he was destined to be.

Excerpt from The Pleasure of Memory

Beam landed on his hands and knees in the wet, muddy grass.

It was dark. Shadowy figures encircled him, but he couldn’t make out the details through the pouring rain and cloak of night. He tried to stand up, but the pressure of a sharp point in the back of his neck convinced him to stay where he was.

He grudgingly settled back on his knees and gave a silent curse. He didn’t need to see anything. He knew exactly where he was. The bastards finally had him.

He squinted up through the hammering rain. A clap of thunder rocked the night, followed by a several brief pulses of light. He couldn’t make out their faces, but the shimmer of their mail against the distant lightning was unmistakable.

He dropped forward and slapped the wet grass. “Stinking savages!” he cursed into the rain.
“Stand up, skeechka!” someone called over the crackling roar of the downpour. The voice was female. This warrior was a Vaemyd, a female Vaemyn, though there was nothing feminine in her tenor.

Beam spit some water back into the grass and again squinted up into the rain, aiming in the direction of the voice. “I’m comfortable right here, thanks,” he called back, though he could barely see her.

“I told you to stand up!” she yelled, “I’m not inclined to tell you twice!”

The sword point twisted viciously against his neck. Beam disappointed himself by wincing. He was confident it’d drawn blood. His mind drifted back to his own sword nestled snugly in its scabbard on the stone floor of the tunnel five minutes below him.

Another peal of thunder rocked the night. A lingering flash of lightning briefly unveiled the silhouette of the Vaemyd standing directly above him, illuminating her long enough to reveal her sleeveless armor and her bare, muscular arms glistening against the rain. He tried to look off to the sides, to evaluate the odds, but the sword in his neck convincingly dissuaded him. Still, he was certain there were at least three others.

He again slapped the wet grass. “Bad bloody luck!” he cursed.

“Nay, you’re wrong there,” she called through the rain, “Luck isn’t even in the equation.”

“Get that damned blade out of my neck. I'm unarmed.”

An explosion rocked the night. Beam flinched. It was too loud to be thunder. Despite the sword pinned to his neck, he managed a peek back behind him. The savages had opened the other half of the lid to the tunnel. The open round hatch gaped up into the dark rain like a radiant, mocking laugh.

A second sword found his right flank, and a third dug into his left. The blade on the right twisted a little harder than it needed to.

“Easy!” he yelled up at the offending savage, “Do that again, and I’ll slap you back into diapers!”

Something struck the back of the head. He collapsed into the grass. He wasn’t sure if he was hearing another peal of thunder or just the ringing in his ears. Before he could recover, the warriors dragged him up to his feet. His skull was throbbing. His legs felt weak as wind.

The Vaemyd pressed in close. “You’re damned mouthy for a man with three blades against his flesh,” she said into his face, “You’re either fearless or stupid. Which is it?”

She was nearly his height and as solid as an oak. Another rip of lightning threw her wet face into light. Her features were chiseled and commanding, betraying neither compassion nor humor. She wore her pale hair bound back in the severe Vaemysh tradition, laced up so tight even the rain seemed unable to penetrate it. Water streamed down her face and dribbled from the sharp horns curling up from under her earlobes, but it did nothing to diminish the malice in her eyes, which were as blue and cold as ice.

“Strange,” she said to him, “I’d expected you to be bigger. All this fuss about such a little man. I find it rather disappointing.” Her eyes looked almost serpentine in the greenish light radiating from the open hatch behind him.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Beam said back, “A Parhronii dandy could’ve evaded your girls.”

“Have your laugh, skeechka. It’ll be your last pleasure.”

Beam shook the rain from his face. “I’ve heard that from your kind before,” he said, “You threaten and threaten but never seem to follow up. I was beginning to think you weren’t really trying.” He spit more water into the grass.

The blade on his right twisted into his ribs again. This time it stole his breath away. He tried to turn on the man, but was quickly subdued. The bastards had a solid lock on his arms, cocking them mercilessly behind him.

“Keep it up, you savage prick!” he snarled over his shoulder, “I’ll feed your jewels to you before we’re done!”

“You’ll have to excuse their zeal,” the Vaemyd said, “My trackers thirst for your blood. You’ve been a monumental irritation to them these past months, jh’ven?”

Beam again flipped the rain from his face, but said nothing.

“However, I do have an offer for you,” she continued, “I give you my word that if you answer my questions directly, I’ll make your death quick and painless.”

“And if I’m stubborn?” he said through the rain.

“I let my warriors have their way with you. You look strong enough that you might last a week or more before their fires.”

The fear that statement left in its wake disappointed him. “Do you really think I’m intimidated by you?” he forced himself to say.

She smiled at that, and leaned closer, whispering, “I’m confident of it.”

About the Author:

Welcome Cole is a writer of fantasy, contemporary novels, and urban fiction. He spends his time in the lakes and forests of Traverse City, Michigan and in the desert and mountains of Castle Rock, Colorado. He has degrees in Nursing and Business Administration, and writes at every opportunity. His book, The Pleasure of Memory, will be followed up shortly with his contemporary fiction novel, Henry’s Re-entry. The second volume of the Blood Caeyl Memories, The Shadows of Memory, will be released in early 2014.

Buy the book:
Caelstone Press | Amazon | Virtualbookworm.com
ISBN 978-0-9894249-1-2 (softcover) $16.95. ISBN 978-0-9894249-2-9 (hardcover)

Featured Author: John Halbert

John Halbert is here today with a guest post and an excerpt from his novel, published in July 2013. The conspiracy thrillers, Arbat Square (551 pages) and Plaza Mayor (617 pages) are two stories combined, published by Virtualbookworm.com.

Guest Post by John Halbert

    Thank you for this opportunity to discuss my two novels, Arbat Square and Plaza Mayor.   

    These multi-volume “Conspiracy Thrillers” had their origins in a  business journey I took to Nigeria several years ago, where I encountered people and places who became excellent prototypes for the settings and the characters in these novels. As I told others about the incredible happenings during that pressure-packed visit, they insisted that I write about it. After starting what was intended to be a short story, I realized that here was the germ of a much larger story that became these two novels. In due course, it became a heavily-researched account of the founding of a crime Cartel, worldwide in scope, supplying arms, funding, and training to  international criminals, human traffickers, renegade governments and the beginnings of a terrorist organization that closely resembled the founding of Al Qaeda.

    The first five chapters of Arabet Square mirror my own experiences through the “Kip Leeds” character.

     This two-book set takes the reader to the inner workings of the “other side” through action, intrigue, adventure and romance. 

    In the first volume, Arabet Square, oil trader Kip Leeds goes on a dangerous journey to Africa where he comes into twenty million dollars of black money. 

   
    In Moscow, Terenty Suslov, a rising young Soviet Military Intelligence officer, attends a secret Special Forces academy, training for an intense mission to penetrate the United States. Leonid Retchkio, an unprincipled former Soviet general, masterminds an international crime cartel that supplies weapons and training to subversive terrorist groups whose influence will extend all the way to the Twin Towers of Manhattan.

    Plaza Mayor, the second volume in the series, tracks Larry Landay, a young California marketing executive taking a shipment of sophisticated electronics to Africa. While there, he encounters a crime cartel supplying weapons and training to international terrorists. The American Investigation Agency joins forces with the Russian Security Service and International Police to try to stop the cartel’s mastermind.

    These “Conspiracy Thrillers” offer surprising perspectives of the “other side”, where the subjects – most of whom do not know each other but are nevertheless inexorably intertwined – are brought together at historic “Plaza Mayor” for the world-shaking climax.       

Chapter Excerpt:

    Kip pulled his bag from the overhead bin and joined the jostling passengers exiting the airliner down a set of wheeled steps. Inside the Lagos terminal, the scene he came upon was about like any other airport he had ever seen, except that this crowd was made up almost entirely of Africans in native dress.

    Then, it hit him―the soggy, sponge-like humidity and the smells―of sweat and strange fragrances. A squad of soldiers in full battle gear with rifles on their shoulders goose-stepped past; their jarring jackboots whamming down in thunderous cadence.

    Up ahead were tables with uniformed officers standing behind them. With a chill of alarm he realized they were directing him toward the Customs inspectors! Were the Nigerians about to find the fifty-thousand dollars strapped underneath his clothes?

    At that moment, a very dark, fierce-looking man in khaki pants and a white, open-collar shirt stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Kip Leeds?” the man intoned in a heavy, accented voice, his piercing black eyes boring straight into Kip’s.

    With a start, the American realized he must be his airport contact! Kip nodded, swallowing.

    “Identification?”

    With nervous fingers Kip pulled out the pasted-on card Masobe Busa had faxed him.

    The muscular African thrust a card he was holding at the one in Kip’s hand. The serrated edges were a perfect match. “Follow me!” he ordered.

    Kip’s heart was pounding as the man led him around a corner of the shadowy concourse to a bench. “Put two-hundred dollars in your passport and sit right there,” he said. “I will be back to get you in a few minutes.”

    The man took his precious passport with the money inside it and headed back in the direction from which they had just come.

     Kip sat down on the bench and looked around at his dingy surroundings. No one else was nearby, a fact he was not sure was to his benefit or not. The odor of humid sweat hung in the air. On the paint-peeled wall right across from where he sat hung a huge ‘Pepsi’ poster. From a loudspeaker came a continuous jabber of announcements in accented English―was ‘English’ the language of Nigeria? Kip had more or less assumed that everyone would be speaking in some sort of native tongue.

    While he was pondering this, the man in the khaki pants and the white shirt came back. To Kip’s relief, he was holding the passport. The American stuffed it into his back pocket.    

    “Come with me!” the African motioned, “everything is arranged!”

    Kip grabbed his bag and followed him past the immigration area, through the vast main terminal, to the outside. At once, they were surrounded by gawking, chattering beggars and others not so impoverished-looking. “Give this woman twenty dollars!” the man said, pointing to a wizened crone, “she is with us!” Kip pulled out a twenty and handed it to her. The doddering old female snatched it and stepped back, cackling and grinning. She had no teeth.

    The man glared at the rest of the bunch, who shrank back into the shadows.

    The two went down a long, curving, grass-lined sidewalk to the street. Under a street lamp at the curb, Kip turned about and stared at the huge terminal building, with its big lighted sign on the front: ‘MURTALA MOHAMMED AIRPORT LAGOS’. He could see that others were being shaken-down for money just as the old woman had done to him. It looked like an extortion racket was in full swing back there.

    A half-dozen youngsters, including a one-legged boy hobbling on a tree-limb crutch, came up with their hands outstretched. The man swore at them; they turned and fled.
There was a scruff of tires and a blue, older-model, four-door Toyota swept up to the curb. “Get in!” the man said, opening a rear door, “these men will take you to the hotel.”
Kip tossed his gear onto the floorboard and ducked into the right-rear seat. The car pulled away into the traffic. By the flickering light of other cars’ headlamps and intermittent street lights, he could see that two men were in the front seats. Both stared straight ahead.

    They had gone about a block when a police officer in a “Colonial-style” uniform stepped off the curb. WHAM! His hand slammed onto the car’s hood like a thunderclap! The driver jammed on the brakes and gaped at the scowling lawman, who was pointing at Kip. “I want to see that backseat passenger, outside!” He repeated the demands. “You! Get out of that car! That is an order!” Kip’s eyes were wide―should the officer find all that money on him, the American knew he might have but moments to live.

    The officer pulled out a billy-club and lunged at the door. Just as his fingers gripped the handle, the driver floorboarded the gas pedal and the Toyota shot forward! The policeman spun around and fell, yelling, to the pavement! Kip looked back, aghast, and saw the officer reach for his gun. The driver jerked the car around a corner, out of the policeman’s line of fire, and they sped off into the night!

    “Oh! Oh!” Kip gasped, as the sedan careened down a shadowy back street at the outskirts of the airport.

    The African male in the front passenger’s seat spoke. “We will be all right―this happens all the time.” They were the first words either of the two men had said. “Mister Busa is waiting for you at the hotel,” the fellow went on in a heavy accent, “everything is arranged.”

    Kip remembered the white-shirt-khaki-pants man at the airport had also said, “everything is arranged.” Everything, what? he wondered. And what had the front-seat man meant by, “this happens all the time”?

    While he was still thinking about this, they came to a ramp and the driver whipped the Toyota up onto a divided highway.

    As they raced along, Kip looked closely at the two men. In the flickering lights of the road, he could tell that the driver appeared to be the younger of the two―probably in his late-twenties; the other man was stocky and middle-aged. Both had very dark complexions. Neither had much to say, but he got the impression they were following someone else’s orders.

    After they had been on the freeway-like thoroughfare for about ten minutes, the driver twisted the wheel and they bounded down an exit ramp onto a rutted service road, where the sedan presently drove up in front of a brightly-lighted, modern-looking six-story building. According to the marquee the establishment was the “Roomland Hotel.”

    The front-seat passenger yanked open the rear door while the driver hopped from the other side.

    Kip tugged his luggage bag from the floorboard and got out.

    “Come!” the stocky one said, “the man is waiting for us.” Kip guessed he meant Busa.   

About the author:

John is a former Radio-TV News Director, Internet Commentator on the World Talk Network, newspaper columnist, and he worked in the oil trading and chemical business. He  still does occasional voiceover commercials for radio, television, and other promotions, and he's currently involved in property development and construction. He lives with his wife, Cecilia, in Katy, Texas.

Sold as a two-book set, Arbat Square and Plaza Mayor: Two Stories of Our Time is available in softcover  and ebook 
from Virtualbookworm.com, Amazon.com, and Barnesandnoble.com. This set can also be ordered from most bookstores around the United States and United Kingdom. More information can be found at John's website.

Featured Author: Connie Smith

When I interviewed Connie Smith I was happily surprised to find out we're fellow Kentuckians. It's my pleasure to have her here to talk about her young adult novel, Essenced (The Division Chronicles: Book One), and to give you a sneak peak at the book.

About the book:

Years ago, demons were forced out of the earth’s realm by a band of supernatural fighters, banished from the place and its people in the aftermath of a horrific war. It should’ve ended there – would’ve – if not for the final demon’s claw snagging on the open portal. What felt like victory became only a reprieve, the winning warriors understanding that the tear would spread, and the demons eventually would escape exile. It was only a matter of time, and a need for future defense – a question of genetics and essences, magic and power. 

Now, centuries later, a new army must bind together – one of teenagers with inhuman potentials and abilities… 


AJ went to bed Sunday night an average teenage girl, clumsy and athletically lacking. So when she wakes up Monday morning with super-strength, she does what any rational person would do: She goes into denial. When a smoking hot guy in a suit shows up, rambling about the end of the war and demons spilling through some kind of rift, she refuses to listen, telling herself he’s insane. Except weird things just won’t quit happening, and the guy keeps popping up in her life, trying to explain the changes suddenly happening within her. Is she crazy, or is this guy… not so crazy after all?


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

I’ve been writing since I was in elementary school, but I actually started off writing song lyrics. Of course, in single-digit ages, my songs tended to be highly plagiarized, but I got better! I visited that off and on, and really invested myself into it in high school. I can remember being excited about short stories I’d written for school – the first memorable one in fifth grade – and I liked having that creative outlet. I didn’t seriously attempt to write an actual novel until last year – the beginnings of which have been temporarily abandoned. Essenced is my first dedicated effort to see one through.

What’s the story behind the title of your book?

Essenced is a term used heavily in the book. As you can tell by the blurb, certain humans are carrying the essences of mythological creatures within them, and minus a prologue, the story starts when the magic has already brought those essences to life. Those people changed are referred to as Essenced. It’s also used for individual packs – Dragon-Essenced, Fairy-Essenced, Thunderbird-Essenced...

What’s your favorite line from a book?

I don’t know if it’s my favorite, but I do have a Terry Pratchett quote at the top of my blog. It’s from The Light Fantastic: “Inside every sane person there's a madman struggling to get out... No one goes mad quicker than a totally sane person.”

How do you get to know your characters?

For this book, I needed to begin – for the most part – with the mythological creatures and work my way back. Aside from the handful of humans and angels in the trilogy, it was pretty open territory to pick and choose any type of creature I wanted. Obviously I used the standard ones – vampires, werewolves, fairies – but I really wanted to bring some myths to the story that readers might’ve never known about. So that’s where a good chunk of my characters started – searching for the right creature and building from there. Their personalities have a tendency to reflect the creature.

Which character did you most enjoy writing?

I honestly enjoyed writing so many of these characters, because their side effects (the transition to Essenced wasn’t as flawless as they’d hoped!) were so fun. There’s a skirt-chasing Incubus-Essenced, an emo-poetry spouting Necromancer-Essenced, a balding Thunderbird-Essenced, a thieving Dragon-Essenced...I don’t know that I could pick one specifically just based on how much fun they are to write. (I say ‘are’ because book three isn’t complete.) My favorite character though, is Johnny. I have a bit of a crush on him – I won’t lie – and his story is really something that snagged my attention. Plus his side effect is fun!

Are any of your characters inspired by real people? Who?

Not really, no. Parts of them might come from different people, or maybe conversations I’ve had. Like Ray-Ray’s obsession with Wheel of Fortune. That definitely reminded me of one of my friends – my BFFFFFFFFFFF, actually. But the characters as a whole, no.

One of your characters has just found out you’re about to kill him off. He/she decides to beat you to the punch. How would he kill you?

If this happened, I would be in trouble. These characters – the soldiers and angels – are pretty hardcore and have some magically-infused weapons. My only shot would be to hide.

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

Lexia! She’s Fairy-Essenced! Sparkly wings!

What song would you pick to go with your book?

I’m actually planning on posting a soundtrack list to my blog in the near future! For now, I will say this. If AJ and Julius had a song, it would have to be “True Love” by Pink. It’s like she wrote the song about them.

You get to decide who would read your audiobook. Who would you choose?

Misha Collins, but he has to do the whole thing in Castiel’s voice.

I don’t claim to be an expert on writing, but there are some writing techniques (or mistakes) that stand out to me when I read (e.g. when an author switches POV mid-scene). What’s one pet peeve you have when you read?

I HATE when dialogue doesn’t sound like a person actually talking. If it’s an omniscient narrator, I’ll accept some fancy language. But if it’s an average character...If you can’t picture a person saying something, you really shouldn’t make your character say it.


Where’s home for you?

Harlan, Kentucky. I moved around A LOT when I was a kid, and Harlan’s the place where I ended up spending most of my years in total. I wasn’t born here, but it’s my hometown.

Oh my gosh! You're a fellow Kentuckian! That's so cool! Okay, back on track. 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?

Books: Small Gods by Terry Pratchett, Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins, Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick, Beyond the Shadows by Brent Weeks (just because it’s the last book of the AWESOME trilogy), and Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay. I still have others I want to mention...

Body parts: If I say ‘eyes,’ does that count as two??? I’ll pretend not. I’ll pick eyes, ears, mouth, hands, and feet. By extension, my arms and legs would have to remain intact. Unless I’m going all Jaime Lannister...

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

Belle! She has a drool-worthy library, and she gets to randomly burst into song! Or Rogue, if it’s the cartoon version. She was my childhood hero!

What steps to publication did you personally do, and what did you hire someone to do? Is there anyone you’d recommend for a particular service?

I hired someone to make the cover, and I’m taking this opportunity to brag on her. The cover was designed by Laura Gordon, and she had very little detail from me about what I wanted. I gave her a few guidelines, and she worked on the project until I was happy with the final product – which only took a handful of changes. In fact, she made a second option for the cover. I loved it so much that it’s waiting to be the cover for the second book of the trilogy. The prices are good, and the work is phenomenal. Check out her site: http://bookcovermachine.wordpress.com/.

What’s your favorite candy bar? And don’t tell me you don’t have one!

BUTTERFINGER! I snatch them out of the bowl intended for trick-or-treaters!

What three books have you read recently and would recommend?

Abel by Elizabeth Reyes. I fell in love with her books when I first read Forever Mine, and I’m only listing this one because it’s a recent read. She has some wonderful stories.

A Brush of Darkness by Allison Pang was good, but I haven’t read the other books. I can’t make any claims for the whole series.

Boundless by Cynthia Hand. I love the trilogy, even though I think my dear Christian got a bad deal :)

What are you working on now?

Emblazed, the second book the trilogy, is in the edit stage, with a planned release the week of February 24, 2014. The third book of the trilogy’s rough draft is about halfway through (maybe a bit more). I also have a novella scheduled to come out around December. It’s a Paranormal Romance prequel to The Division Chronicles called In Your Wings. And I’m starting a new project for NaNoWriMo.

Is that all?! Seriously, good luck with all your projects, and come back soon to tell us more.

Excerpt from Essenced

Even as she thought about those things, gathering her empty water bottles to leave the endurance room, she felt his eyes on her, so intense she both cringed and shivered. Both good and bad, beautiful and bothersome. That’s Julius, alright. Turning to him, seeing the intensity for herself, made her pause as an involuntary gasp escaped her.

“What?” she finally demanded.

He kept staring. “I’m deciding something.”

“Okay…” She elevated an eyebrow, drawing the word out. “Well, I’m gonna go eat, so just… keep deciding.”

“I’m deciding about you.”

She stopped, gawking at him with wide eyes. Deciding about her? What did he mean exactly? Surely he hadn’t bridged the topic of them out in the open for everyone to overhear.

They’d done so well these last days, pleasantly ignoring all the complications the topic brought, playing selective memory. If he meant to change that – which she couldn’t decide if she wanted or not – the endurance room certainly didn’t seem the ideal setting.

“Deciding what about me?”

He gazed a moment longer, biting the inside of his mouth as he thought through his answer. “You fought against Nicholai longer than the other alphas today.”

Well, this definitely didn’t sound like it concerned them. She argued with herself that she held no disappointment with that fact. “Yeah, I managed a pitiful defense for a little over a minute.”

“More than the others did.”

“Well, then, we all need help.”

He nodded. “So you do. And so you’re getting it. Lesson learned, I think. Today you all pushed. A lot.”

Although she appreciated the compliment, she wondered what this had to do with her specifically. If he wished to congratulate her on a job well done, and all the students had increased their focus and determination, shouldn’t he be addressing a crowd rather than just her? “Is there something you’re wanting to say here? Because I really am hungry. And tired. And I really, really stink….”

“You outlasted the rest of them.” He looked her up and down, again causing her to cringe and shiver, nodding once when his eyes locked with hers. “You’re ready.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “In case you aren’t aware, that’s exactly the attitude that got us all in trouble in the first place.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not ready for the war. But you’re ready for the next room.”

She tried to understand his words, but their meaning evaded her. “Next room?”

He nodded, then jerked his chin toward the door, intending her to follow him. Though nervous, and not a little unsure, she kept to her self-promise of acquiesce and walked behind him. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll know in a minute.”

“But I don’t get it. You gave me the tour the day after I got here. I’ve seen all the rooms already.”

Glancing over his shoulder at her, that annoying smirk spread across his lips. “You sure about that?”

He stopped in front of the supplies room, checking to see if anyone could see his actions. When he noticed a clear coast, he opened the door and ushered her hurriedly into the dark room, flipping on a light switch seconds later.

“This is where you wanted to take me? ‘Cause I gotta say, Julius. I’ve kind of been here.”

“Shut up and keep walking.” He gently shoved her toward the area’s opposite end, grinning at her unease. As they neared the back door, leading to the desert circling the facility, he pointed to the left.

Glancing there, AJ only saw boxes piled high, layers of training materials that, although organized, hardly seemed like a destination worth finding. She turned to him, confusion and concern etched on her expression. “You’ve brought me here to kill me, haven’t you?”

He rolled his eyes, though with a smile on his lips. “I told you once before. If I was gonna kill you, it would’ve been when you wouldn’t quit with the adrenaline thing. Just walk over there.”

She tilted her head to the side, eyes suspicious. “To the piles of supplies? In the supplies room?”

“Yes.” He considered the uncertainty on her face, sighing and shaking his head. “Just this morning you were shown how this hardheaded mentality works against your training. Do you really wanna hold to it before you fight the demons?”

She winced, then glared. “That was low.”

“It was necessary. Even with your newfound determination to not be stubborn, you can’t help but be stubborn with me.”

“Well, the other trainers didn’t drag me off to show me the wonders of supply organization. I could be eating right now, you know. We walked right by the cafeteria…”

“…And the sooner you go along with this, the sooner you can eat.”

“And get rid of you…” She thought it over, then agreed. “Solid reasoning. Let’s get on with this.”

Watching her spin toward the piles of boxes, Julius smiled to himself.

Once they reached the stacks, he maneuvered one to the right, leaving just enough space between two of them for a person to fit through. He grinned at her, mockingly, and strode through the path.

“He’s so gonna kill me,” she mumbled to herself.

“I’m not gonna kill you! Just come on already!”

She did as instructed, stepping in between the mess of provisions, inching forward a few feet until she reached her trainer, finding him waiting – and smirking – beside a door she hadn’t previously seen.

“Where did that come from?”

“Do you want the construction plans?”

She scowled at him, though obviously intrigued with the unfamiliar part of the facility.
He opened the door, holding his hand out to motion her through. As she stepped over the threshold, her eyes widened at the wondrous vision, somehow stashed away behind the clutter of the supplies room.

About the author:

Connie L. Smith spends far too much time with her mind wandering in fictional places. She reads too much, likes to bake, and will be forever sad that she doesn’t have fairy wings. And that she can’t swing dance. When she isn’t reading or writing, there’s a good chance she’s goofing off with her amazing, wonderful, incredible, fabulous nieces and nephew, or listening to music that is severely outdated. She has her BA from Northern Kentucky University in Speech Communication and History (she doesn’t totally get the connection either) and likes to snap photos. Oh, and she likes apples a whole big bunch.

Connect with Connie:
Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads |

Buy the book:
Amazon

Ignite Blast Hop & Tour

Brickstone Publishing is celebrating the launch of Ignite a book of tastefully erotic short stories, and I have one of the contributing authors here today. By the way, my treasure hunt word is "flibbertigibbet." Scroll down to find out what the heck I'm talking about! Hint: there's a treasure hunt and prizes involved!

CLICK THE COVER TO SEE IT LARGER!
         

Ignite Blast: You will not believe all the fun & prizes that are going on! Keep reading!

About the book:

Whether you’re a woman who has put passion on the back burner, or you’re a hot mama who has been keeping things aflame, these stories are sure to light your fire!

About Shenoa Carroll-Bradd's short story:

“Beheld” is the story of a woman who is encouraged into embracing her sexuality, despite perceiving herself as physically “damaged.”

Interview with Shenoa Carroll-Bradd

How long have you been writing, and how did you start?
I grew up surrounded by avid readers and writers, so my love of the written word started early. I wrote little fairy tales and ghost stories in elementary school, and attempted my first novel in 4th grade.
Most of my early stuff was terrible, but whose isn’t? 
I don’t have any set schedule or routine for my writing, but I try to write a little every day, just to keep my motivation and spirits up. If I don’t write, I end up feeling low energy and pessimistic and like I’ve wasted the day. 

What’s your favorite line from a book?
Off the top of my head, I’d say: “She’s a woman, Your Highness, and that’s riddle enough,” from The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. The whole book is a beautiful dream, with some of the freshest language I’ve ever read in a fantasy tale, even though it was written in the seventies.
That line in particular speaks to me, because no one is simple. Every human being is complex and contradictory and unique, something I try to keep in mind when developing characters. No one is just a geek or a dumb blonde, and to write characters that way robs them of their vitality and truth. 

Tell us a book by an indie author for which you’re an evangelist.
I would love to! My mother, Linda Carroll-Bradd, writes really sweet and charming romance books. Her most recent release is Rekindled Dreams, about a woman who returns to her little hometown in search of inspiration and reconnects with a childhood crush. Her work can be found on Amazon.com, and her homepage.

What would your main character say about you?
The main character of “Beheld” would probably say I sounded nice and that I should smile more.

If you could be one of your characters, which one would you choose?
I would want to be Z’el, the protagonist of my fantasy novelette “The Minstrel Angel”. I would love the freedom of his wings and his primal fierceness.

Who are your favorite authors?
My favorite authors are Neil Gaiman, Joe Hill, Stephen King, Tamora Pierce, and George R.R. Martin. 


You get to decide who would read your audiobook. Who would you choose?
I would absolutely choose Benedict Cumberbatch. His voice can turn anything into reverent poetry.

Benedict Cumberbatch: Best. name. ever. Okay, I don’t claim to be an expert on writing, but there are some writing techniques (or mistakes) that stand out to me when I read (e.g. when an author switches POV mid-scene). What’s one pet peeve you have when you read?
I’ll admit I get annoyed when characters don’t act or speak genuinely, when they behave more like cartoons than real people. It pulls me right out of the scene and forcefully reminds me I’m reading fiction. It breaks the spell.

Where and when do you prefer to do your writing?
I’m actually pretty lucky, in that I can write practically anywhere: planes, cars, bars...I learned early in life how to tune out noise and distractions.

You’re given the day off, and you can do anything but write. What would you do?
I would probably invite friends over to have a movie marathon, like watching all the Star Wars films, or the extended Lord of the Rings trilogy.

What would your dream office look like?
I love the romantic idea of a little writing room in the garret of a house, with low, slanted ceilings and a window overlooking trees or a river. Facing east, preferably, so I could catch the light as the world woke. And, since I’m dreaming, I’d like a little bar, rows of bookshelves, and a dog bed right at my feet.  

Are you happy with your decision to publish with Brickstone Publishing?
I’m thrilled to be working with Brickstone Publishing on “Ignite.” They’ve been so friendly and professional, and have done a great job of making me feel like part of a team. Plus, I love all the work they’ve put into marketing efforts, since that’s often the hardest aspect of platform building for me.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?
“Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.” – Neil Gaiman
Most of my favorite quotes come from Mr. Gaiman, actually. Whenever I feel discouraged or frustrated, I listen to his “Make Good Art” speech, and it always spurs me on.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
When not writing or reading, I love to bake and draw and paint and occasionally crochet.

What are you working on now?
I challenged myself last December to write and submit at least one story a month. I ended up writing closer to one a week, and am wrapping up the year of shorts so I can focus on a series of fantasy novels I have in the works.

About the author:

Shenoa Carroll-Bradd lives in Southern California with her brother and dancing dog. She writes whatever catches her fancy, from erotica, to horror, to fantasy.
Regarding her short story, “Beheld” in the Ignite anthology, she says, “I wrote this in the spirit of celebrating inner beauty and appreciating the added character and value accrued over a life well-lived.”

Shenoa has been in love with stories all her life, and is happiest with a pen in hand. She was raised in California, spent a decade in Texas, and has now returned to live on a street where she can see both palm trees and mountains.
Connect with Shenoa:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads 

Buy the book:
Amazon | Brickstone Publishing |

Connect with Brickstone Publishing:
Facebook | Twitter

Professional reviews, author interviews, guest articles, and TREASURE HUNT!

   
1. Grab a pen & paper
   
2. Visit each of the blogs in the linky below to see their reviews, interviews, & articles
   
3. While you're there, WRITE DOWN THEIR TREASURE HUNT WORD!
   
4. Scroll down to the prize entry form below and get tons of extra entries for inputting the treasure hunt words!

The BIG giveaway! Over 40 prizes! Yes, seriously!

Use the entry form below to enter to win any of the 40+ prizes! Don't forget to collect the treasure hunt words from the blogs above to get TONS of extra entries! PLEASE CLICK HERE TO OPEN A NEW WINDOW THAT SHOWS THE PRIZES/PHOTOS IN GREATER DETAIL. You may need to wait a minute for the entry form to load. Good luck!

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Don't forget to visit the rest of the celebration!

There's a Kindle Fire Giveaway and a Trip to Vegas Giveaway! Click here to go to them!

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 

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Featured Author: Lou Aronica

Lou Aronica was here on November 1st to talk about his book Differential Equations, and I'm happy to have him back as my guest today to talk about his newest release, Flash and Dazzle, published by The Story Plant.

About the book:

What happens when everything you thought was true changes all at once? What happens when each relationship that means anything to you suddenly becomes far more real than you ever thought it would be? What happens when every moment becomes invaluable as all of them pass far too quickly?

Flash and Dazzle is the story of two friends who have known the best of times who develop a true taste for life during the worst of times. It is the story of the friends and lovers who enter their orbit, some for a long time and some only for a moment. It is the story of legacies, burdens, and the kinds of secrets that are only revealed when there’s nothing left to tell.

It is a funny, moving, deeply honest novel that will inspire you to call everyone you care about and thank everyone you know for what they’ve given you.

Interview with Lou Aronica

Lou, several of your books are bestsellers. How long have you been writing, and how did you start?

I’ve been writing professionally for ten years now. Before that, I did a great deal of thinking about writing, but never quite committed to it. When it actually happened, it happened in a sideways fashion. I sold The Forever Year to Tor based on a lengthy proposal with the understanding that I would hire a writer to write the actual manuscript. When it came time to do that though, I realized that I was much too close to the story to let anyone else write it. I remember being absolutely terrified when I realized that I had to actually create the novel rather than simply creating the idea for the novel. It took me days to get the first words down because the entire process seemed so daunting. I’d been around books professionally for more than twenty years at that point, but it wasn’t until that moment that I fully appreciated the effort required to write an entire novel.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

I’m also the publisher of The Story Plant, the imprint that is publishing Flash and Dazzle. The Story Plant publishes about thirty-five new books every year, and Flash and Dazzle just happens to be one of them. I’m a bit self-conscious about it, if you want to know the truth. When I presented this book to our distributor, I started by saying, “This book is awful, but the author is one of the company’s principals so we had no choice.”

I started my career on the business side of publishing. I was Deputy Publisher of Bantam Books and then Publisher of Berkley and Avon. I’ve always loved the book business, and I’m very excited about the opportunities created by digital publishing.

These days, I split my time fairly evenly between writing and The Story Plant. We’ve put together a great team of authors and publishing professionals at The Story Plant, but I also greatly value the time I can spend alone writing.

It sounds like you have the best of both worlds. How did you create the plot for Flash and Dazzle?

The entire plot for Flash and Dazzle came to me while I was at the playground with my daughter. Before that, I only knew that I wanted to write a novel about male best friends. Then, while I was pushing her on the swings, the situation – a couple of successful guys in their late twenties living the dream in Manhattan, whose understanding of friendship changes completely when one of them gets sick – popped into my head. I had all of the major plot points in place by the time we left the playground that day.

How do you get to know your characters?

I spend a tremendous amount of time developing my characters before I start writing. Much of the process involves asking myself lots of questions about them that have absolutely nothing to do with the story. When I get to the point when I can easily answer these irrelevant questions, I know I’ve formed the characters well in my head. To me, as far as fiction is concerned, everything starts with the characters. If I can make them real to readers, then readers will connect with the story. If I can’t, it’s going to be very difficult to keep readers engaged.

Which character did you most enjoy writing?

My favorite character in this novel is Eric Dazman, the best friend of the narrator. Eric is goofy and loose, but also supremely competent and caring. I love that combination. Eric is also carrying a very heavy burden that he doesn’t want to impose on anyone else, which made him endlessly interesting to write about.

Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.

My favorite scene happens about halfway into the novel when Rich, the narrator, and Eric tell each other stories – revealing stories – that neither has heard from the other before. There’s a combination of surprise and disappointment in this scene, disappointment at the realization that Rich and Eric don’t know each other nearly as well as they thought. To me, that’s the fulcrum point for the novel and I think an apt representation of what “best friendship” is often like for men.

What song would you pick to go with your book?

When I wrote this book, I had a rotation of songs playing in my head. They would just sort of “switch on” while I was writing. I’ve found this happens very often when I’m writing. I’m every easily suggestible when it comes to music. Someone will say something to me and a song with a similar lyric will be playing in my head the rest of the day. Lines that I write often prompt songs for me as well.

Ultimately, the song that best captures the spirit of this novel is Ben Folds’ “There’s Always Someone Cooler Than You.” There’s a great break in that song that goes: Life is wonderful/Life is beautiful/We’re all children of/One big universe/So you don’t have to be a chump. In many ways, that’s the core message of Flash and Dazzle.

I had the opportunity to see Ben Folds in concert this past summer. That is a great song. Okay...suppose you’re given the day off, and you can do anything but write. What would you do?

That’s easy. I would go to a great walking town (someplace like Essex, Connecticut or Nyack, New York, assuming that I only had one day and had to stay nearby) with my family. We’d have great music playing on the drive there, then explore the shops, get lunch at one of the fine local restaurants, explore some more shops, get coffee from an indie coffee house, explore some more shops, and then stop somewhere for a snack for the kids. I would abstain...or not.

What would your dream office look like?

It would have a wraparound window with a view of Mt. Etna. This would require the office to be in Taormina. Really, just about any office in Taormina would be a dream scenario for me.

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

I have no shortage of hobbies. I love cooking and try to make dinner for my family every night. I’m a huge music fan and an amateur songwriter with a recording setup in my basement. I’m also a sports (especially baseball) and pop culture junkie. I love reading, but I tend to do very little reading during my off time because I do so much reading during the day.

What are you working on now?

Right now, I’m writing a major nonfiction book on education with Sir Ken Robinson. Sir Ken was knighted in the UK for his contributions to education, so this book is going to be a very important statement. I’m noodling with the ideas for another novel as well as a collection of novellas.

Other books by Lou Aronica

Excerpt from Flash and Dazzle

     It wouldn’t be fair to call Daz a slug. After all, he had been a third team all-conference striker in college, and he was still slim and fleet. However, getting him out of his apartment in the morning had always been a considerable task. There was the ringing the doorbell seven times before going in with my key part. There was the don’t you remember we have that meeting at 9:30 part. There was the I really don’t give a shit what your hair looks like part. Then there were the inevitable battles with toothpaste choices (Daz was the only person I ever met who kept multiple flavors of toothpaste in his bathroom), Cap’n Crunch (the only thing he deigned to eat for breakfast), and Power Rangers (which appeared on ABC Family at 8:30 every morning and from which Daz took surprising delight for someone his age.)

    On most days, by the time I got to his place to pick him up, I’d already read the relevant sections of the Times and the Journal and surfed three or four entertainment, media and business sites on the web. About a year ago, it finally dawned on me that I could sleep fifteen minutes later in the morning if I brought my bagel and coffee with me so I could have breakfast while I waited for Daz to get ready. On certain days I thought it might be smart to bring a lunch as well.

    It was this way from our first days in the City. The only difference at the beginning was that we were in the same apartment and Daz sometimes dragged himself out of bed earlier if I made enough noise or if I did something like flick water on his face after my shower. . . 

    “Who do we have a meeting with this morning? He said, coming out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth. He had different colored toothbrushes for the different flavors. The gray brush meant fennel.

    “It’s just us.”

    “Us? Like you and me?” He returned to the bathroom to spit.

    “And Michelle and Carnie and Brad and Chess.”

    “Sounds like the meeting we had at Terminal 5 last night.”

    We’d all gone there to see Beam, an incredible British trance rock band.

    “Except this time we’re going to have a serious business conversation and it won’t look as cool if your head lolls back and forth.”

    “And what will we be talking about again?” He asked this question from his bedroom, where he was almost certainly trying to decide if it was a red flannel shirt day or a blue flannel shirt day.

    “The Koreans.”

    “Motorcycles, right?” he said, sticking his face out the door.

    “Cars. Affordable luxury for twenty-somethings.”

    “Twenty-somethings want luxury?”

    “They do if it’s affordable.”

    “That’s why you’re the word guy and I’m the picture guy. I wouldn’t have a clue how to pitch this.”

    “Good thing I’m around then, huh?”

    He disappeared back into the bathroom, meaning we were somewhere between eight and fifteen minutes of departure time, assuming I kept him away from the Power Rangers . . .

    “I mentioned that the meeting was today and not in August, right?” I said, my voice vibrating from the thumping my back was receiving.

    “I’m done,” he said, walking over to stand in front of me in blue flannel. “Just a quick one-on-one with the Cap’n and we’ll be out of here.”

    I turned off the chair and got up. Daz opened the box of cereal and poured it directly into his mouth. “Let’s go,” he said, taking a swig from a milk carton and grabbing his keys.

    I gathered my stuff and we made our way out the door. Daz locked the two deadbolts and my eye fell on his keychain – a plastic hot dog that he’d burned with a cigarette lighter in honor of our first (and only) camping trip. He’d toted that thing around for the last ten years.

    “I think Michelle and I had a little thing last night,” he said as we walked out onto Broadway to begin our search for a cab.

    I laughed. “I was with the two of you the entire time. You didn’t have a thing.”

    “No, I think we might have. It was an eye thing.”

    “An eye thing as in she saw you and said hi?”

    “Don’t be a schmuck. I can tell the difference, you know. I think she kinda likes me.”

    “Daz, everyone kinda likes you. See that woman who just stepped in front of us to steal our cab? I’ll bet she likes you. You’re a likable guy. I just wouldn’t get my hopes up about Michelle if I were you.”

    “She came to my office just to see my drawings the other day. She’s never done that before.”

    “Daz, reachable goals, remember? Reachable goals.”

    “I think you might be surprised here.”

    “Surprised wouldn’t begin to describe it. Stunned speechless maybe. Or shocked to the point where I needed a defibrillator.”

    He regarded me sternly. “Why do you think I couldn’t get a woman like Michelle?”

    “Did I say that?”

    “Pretty much exactly that.”

    “You’re misunderstanding me. I’m speaking specifically about Michelle. A woman like Michelle – you know, gorgeous, smart, clever, burgeoning career – you could get a woman like that. Anytime you wanted, probably.”

    “But not Michelle specifically. Translation, please.”

    “A translation isn’t necessary. Right now, the only thing that’s important is that we find some way to get the hell downtown.”

    Eventually we took a gypsy cab, one of those out-of-town car services that roamed around the City skimming off fares from Yellow cabs during rush hours. I hated doing this – I was very loyal to my city – but at 9:05 on a weekday, it really was the best we could do.

    “If we left earlier, we wouldn’t be riding in a fifteen-year-old Impala right now, you know,” I said.

    “If we left later, we wouldn’t be doing this either.”

    “You know, it’s a good thing you’re an artistic genius. Otherwise you’d be working at Burger King. No, you’d lose your job at Burger King because you’d always be showing up late. Then you’d be out on the street collecting bottles to exchange for cheap liquor.”

    “Never happen.”

    “You don’t think so?”

    “Nope. Cause you’d be around to drag my ass out of bed so I could keep my job making French fries.”

    “Don’t be so sure.”

    “Of course you would.”

    Yeah, of course I would. If I could be relied upon for anything, it would be making sure that Daz got to work at a reasonable hour. Beyond that, as it turns out, I was lacking in an entire suite of skills best friends were supposed to have. However, he would never be homeless as long as I was around.

    We rode in silence for a couple of minutes, bucking and stopping every eight seconds or so as traffic dictated. Then something caught Daz’s eye and he pulled out the sketch-pad he always carried in his backpack and started drawing.

    “What are you doing?”

    “That jogger we passed gave me an idea.”

    I hadn’t even noticed a jogger. “An idea for what?”

    “For the Space Available campaign.”

    Space Available was a custom-built closet company whose account we recently acquired. How a jogger related to this escaped me.

    “Let me see,” I said, leaning toward him in the seat.

    He pulled the sketchpad back. “Not yet.” He smiles over at me. “I want to show it to Michelle first.”

    “She’ll never love you like I love you, Daz.”

    “There’s another thing we can all be thankful for.”

    He drew for a big longer, and while I knew there was a very good chance this brainstorm of his wouldn’t produce anything – so many of our ideas didn’t – I was curious. I tried to angle my eyes over without appearing too obvious, but Daz was doing a great job of blocking my view. Finally, he closed the sketchbook and returned it to his backpack, glancing out at the street as though there was nothing to this.

    “Traffic’s a bitch today,” he said. “We really should have left earlier. You gotta get on the beam, Flaccid.”

About the author:

Lou Aronica is the author of the USA Today bestseller The Forever Year and the national bestseller Blue. He also collaborated on the New York Times nonfiction bestsellers The Element and Finding Your Element (both with Ken Robinson) and the national bestseller The Culture Code (with Clotaire Rapaille). Aronica is a long-term book publishing veteran. He is President and Publisher of the independent publishing house The Story Plant.

Connect with Lou:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads |

Buy the book:
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Featured Author: Mary Burton

I'm happy to have bestselling author Mary Burton here today to talk about her romantic suspense novel, No Escape, the second in a series, published by Kensington Publishing. Don't miss the first book in the Texas Rangers series, The Seventh Victim, look for the third in the series, You're Not Safe, coming in April 2014, and enjoy an excerpt from No Escape here after the interview.

About the book:

Forensic psychologist Dr. Jolene Granger has helped the Texas Rangers solve cases of multiple murders in the past. In fact, Jo did her dissertation on serial killer Harvey Lee Smith. That's the only reason she can think of that he wants her--and only her--to be the one to hear his dying confession. She agrees, vowing not to let this monster who buried his victims alive claim a foothold in her psyche. She hopes to learn about bodies never found and to bring closure to families who have not been able to lay their missing loved ones to rest. She knows Harvey has secrets to share. It just turns out that they're just not all the sort that Jo wants to hear.
  
She's also not expecting to encounter Brody Winchester, whose arrest of Harvey earned him his Texas Ranger star. But there he is. Newly transferred to Ranger headquarters in Austin and determined to stick close until the unaccounted victims are found. Too bad the two haven't spoken since the divorce that severed their brief and painful marriage.

Ill and with his every movement monitored, Harvey still exudes menace, despite no longer being a threat. Or is he? Someone is killing women just the way Harvey did, sending furtive messages to him, claiming credit and seeking approval. 

Harvey's got a protégé, one who's becoming bolder and more vicious every day.  Brody and Jo have to uncover the secrets within the trail of shallow graves and finish the puzzle before its creator takes his final bow. They need to do it now. Harvey's about to die and the killer isn't finished yet.

Interview with Mary Burton

Mary, you have twenty published books. How long have you been writing, and how did you start? 

I’ve been writing forever. I started writing when my children were babies. I'd put them down for a nap and then write as fast as I could, knowing I only had a couple of hours.  Those babies are in college now so that’ll tell you I’ve been at this a while.

What’s the story behind the title No Escape?

My editor named the book, and I really think he nailed it!

Do you have another job outside of writing? 

Writing is a full time job for me.

How did you create the plot for this book? 

When I was plotting No Escape, I was attending the Writer’s Police Academy, which brings mystery and suspense authors together with law enforcement experts. It’s a great event and never fails to inspire another story for me. Anyway, at the conference I attended a shallow grave seminar. (I know, sounds crazy.) As I stood in the woods with my fellow classmates and listened to the instructor, the ideas for the next book started spinning.   I had a rough outline for the book within a couple of weeks.

What’s your favorite line from a book? 

“The autopsy revealed what Brody already suspected. She’d been buried alive.”

How do you get to know your characters?

I do my best to map out their lives, but it’s not until I start writing the first draft that I really get to know them. When you put a character under pressure you really find out what they’re made of.

Which character did you most enjoy writing?

Jolene Granger. I liked her the instant she popped into my mind. I love her because she’s smart and so together but suffers from the same doubts and worries that we all struggle with. 
 
What would your main character say about you? 

LOL. She might not think I’m all that exciting. I’m either behind the computer, cooking or chasing dogs.

I can relate! Are any of your characters inspired by real people?

No. I might notice something in particular about someone and brazenly steal it for one of my characters but across the board they’re a mish mash of people, experiences and research. 

Is your book based on real events?

No. I have a very active imagination, and it doesn’t take much—-for instance a shallow grave seminar--to get me spinning a new plot.

Are you like any of your characters?

I wish! My heroines don’t worry about calories, their snappy comments are well thought out (except in the first draft when it’s still mostly my voice), and they’re brave enough to run toward danger. 

One of your characters has just found out you’re about to kill him off. He/she decides to beat you to the punch. How would he kill you? 

I’m thinking poison. Mix that poison in a carrot cake and I’m done for.

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

I’m very partial to Dr. Jo Granger. She’s smart, kind hearted and she is fearless. She is one of my favorite characters.

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

Brody Winchester. He is one nice-looking man, and he has a wicked sense of humor.

Tell us about your favorite scene in the book. 

When Brody sees Jo for the first time in 14 years. He keeps reminding himself that his visit is business and not personal but the minute he sees her on a climbing wall in the gym, surrounding by the cheering at-risk teens she mentors, he’s fascinated by the person she’s become.

What song would you pick to go with your book? 

Zac Brown’s "Jolene." If you listen to the song’s words it has nothing to do with No Escape, but there is something about the mood and emotion of the song that really caught my attention.

Who are your favorite authors? 

Love Nora Roberts, Tony Hillerman and Lisa Gardner.

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

It’s a nonfiction book called Grain Brain. I love books on nutrition and cooking. It’s in audio form, and I listen to it when I’m at the gym. 


Do you have a routine for writing? 

I write every day. I don’t work for a set number of hours but have a set number of pages I feel I should write. Once I’ve hit my page goal, I’m done for the day. Sometimes the pages take me a few hours and sometimes they’ll take me all day.

Where’s home for you? 

Richmond, Virginia.

You’re leaving your country for a year. What’s the last meal (or food) you would want to have before leaving?

A hamburger, French fries and a vanilla milkshake!

Would you rather work in a library or a bookstore? 

I did work in the library when I was in college. I enjoyed it a lot, so I think I’d like to go back there.

Where is your favorite library, and what do you love about it? 

The Gayton Library in Henrico County is my go-to library. I love that place!

You’re given the day off, and you can do anything but write. What would you do? 

Hike, shop and a massage!

What’s one of your favorite quotes? 

“Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.” --Thomas Edison

What three books have you read recently and would recommend? 

Touch and Go by Lisa Gardner, The Time Between by Karen White, and Half a Lie by Darin Strauss.

What are you working on now? 

I’m working on a new romantic thriller set in Nashville, Tennessee. 

Come back when you can tell us more about it!

Excerpt from No Escape

Jo turned on the shower, kicked off her shoes and socks, and then leaned on the sink, staring into the fogging mirror.  She was grateful her expression looked calm and her cheeks had not flushed with shock.  Brody Winchester.  She’d heard he’d moved back to town but had hoped Austin was big enough for her to avoid him. 

For several seconds she stared until the steam misted over all traces of her.
 
“Holy shit,” she whispered as she turned and pulled off her hoodie, workout shirt and pants.

She stepped into the shower and ducked her head under the hot spray, barely noticing as it streamed over her body and rinsed the salty sweat from her skin. 

Brody f-ing Winchester was in her house.  Getting a soda out of her fridge.  Brody f-ing Winchester was sitting on her sofa like it was old home week. 

Brody f-ing Winchester.

Her ex-husband. 

It had been fourteen years since they’d last seen each other.  For several years after their divorce she’d dreamed of facing him again and demanding an apology.  She’d imagined him seeing the error of his ways and offering sincere regret.  The dream had sustained her for a time but after several years, she’d simply grown tired of being angry.  And so she’d let Winchester go, truly believing he was out of her system.

And then she’d seen him standing in the gym, staring at her as if she were an odd curiosity.  She’d been taken aback, lost her hold, and practiced speeches recited too many times after the divorce were forgotten.

She groaned.  She’d invited him into her home.  Offered him a soda.  And a sandwich.  You were always a pushover around him.

She willed the water to wash away her thoughts and disappointments.  Let go.  Let go.  The familiar mantra lapped over her, taking with it some of the emotion.

Brody’s arrival wasn’t personal.  It was business.  And he was acting like an adult, a professional.  He wasn’t the newly enlisted twenty-one-year-old Marine who had all the answers, and he wasn’t looking at her as if she owed him.  Nor was she an awkward eighteen-year-old grateful for any kind of love and attention.  She didn’t need him, not as she thought she had all those years ago.

The hot water beaded on her forehead.  She was thirty-two.  He was thirty-six.  If they couldn’t act like grown-ups now when would they ever?  The past was the past.  Let it go and move on. 

This time tomorrow her interview with Harvey Lee Smith would be over and Brody would be out of her life again.  Case, hopefully, closed.

She shut off the water, toweled off, dried her hair quickly and dressed in a dark pencil skirt, white blouse and matching jacket.  She put on her pearl necklace and earrings and as she promised was ready to leave within thirty minutes.

When she emerged from her bedroom, her cats had surrounded Brody.  Atticus, a sixteen-pound orange cat, sat at the end of the sofa staring at Brody as if he wanted to attack.  Shakespeare, a wiry black cat with a snub nose tail, sat on the floor out of his reach, and Mrs. Ramsey, a small gray tabby, sat in his lap, purring as he rubbed her between the ears.

God, what he must think of her.  All these years and she was still not only the nerdy smart girl, but also the single lady with the house full of cats. 

She snatched up her purse and snapped it open.  “Ready?”

He finished off his soda and gently nudged Mrs. Ramsey back onto the couch.  As he rose, his gaze lingered on her a half a beat before he held up the can.  “Yep.  Where’s your trash can?”

Her first instinct was to take the can and throw it out for him.  She’d have done it for anyone but him.  “Under the sink in the kitchen.”

As he disposed of the can, she checked her wallet to make sure she had enough cash as well as her ID.  She tucked in a notebook, extra pens as well as a point-and-shoot camera.  “I’ll follow you to the airport.”

He moved toward her, hat balanced in his hand, each step measured. 

When had she forgotten he was so tall and broad shouldered?  He’d been like that in college, possessing a room simply by entering.  Age had certainly not whittled away his muscle tone.  He was broader in the shoulders and his legs and his wrists had grown thicker. 

He’d never been classically or pretty-boy handsome.  “Very male” had been the best way to describe him.  Age had not only wiped away the traces of youth, but had left his face with a raw-boned leanness that bordered on menace. 

“It could be a late night,” he said.  “Better not to leave an extra car at the airport.”
No doubt his frame all but filled the front seat of that Bronco.  “I don’t mind.”
“It’ll be easier if I drive.”

A rebuttal danced on the tip of her tongue and then she swallowed it.  The more she protested, the bigger deal she made out of the whole situation.  And this was not a big deal.  It was business. 

“Fine.”  Atticus meowed, jumped off the back of a chair.  “Let me feed the cats.”

He held out his hat, indicating the way to the kitchen.  “You’ve wrangled yourself a real herd here.”

“They kinda found me.”

“You’re a soft touch.”

“Maybe.”  She opened the kitchen pantry, scooped out a mound of dried food and dropped it into three different bowls scattered around the kitchen and den.  Atticus took the bowl by the bin.  Shakespeare moved to his bowl under the kitchen table and Mrs. Ramsey ate behind the chair.

“That big red one runs the roost,” Brody said.

She filled a water bowl and set it beside Atticus.  “I’ve had him a year.  But as soon as he arrived he took over.”

“Is he growling?”

“He growls when he eats.  Defense mechanism, I suppose.  Vet thinks he fended for himself a good while.  He was half starved and pretty banged up when he came to me.”

“Give the ’ol boy credit for surviving.”

“Let me check in with my neighbor and let him know I’ll be gone.  There’s a fifty percent chance of rain this evening, and if we get grounded the cats will need to be fed.”

He followed her out the front door.  “Still watch the weather every morning?”

Still eat Frosted Flakes in the morning?  The unexpected memory had her pulling the front door closed with a too-firm slam.  She turned the key in the lock until the dead bolt slid into place.  “The first personal reference to our short but brief marriage—the elephant in the room.”

He stood at the base of the stairs, one foot on the bottom step.  “I never was good at pretending.”

“Cutting honesty from what I remember.”

He settled his hat on his head.  He tightened and released his jaw.  “There something between us we need to lance before we get this show on the road?”

“No.”  Emotions tightened and released.  She nodded toward the house to her right.  “I’ll be right back.”

About the author:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling novelist Mary Burton has been intrigued by investigative work and the people who do it since Virginia, her home state, was stung by a string of serial killings that spanned more than twenty years. Not surprisingly, many of Mary's suspense novels are fueled by the acts of multiple killers and the people who pursue them, as is No Escape, her latest and the second in a trio of stories set in and around Austin that began with The Seventh Victim. Her third Austin-set novel, You're Not Safe, will be published in April 2014.

The author of twenty novels and three novellas, her earlier novels include I'm Watching You, Dead Ringer and Dying Scream, set in her home town of Richmond, and Senseless, Merciless, and Before She Dies, set in Alexandria. 

She is a member of Thriller Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, Romance Writers of America and Sisters in Crime, for which she is president of the Central Virginia chapter.

Mary is currently at work on her next novel, set in Nashville.

Connect with Mary:
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