Cover Reveal: Sucker Literary Volume III

Sucker Literary is a platform for established and emerging, hugely intelligent writers who have the grit and talent to create compelling, authentic young adult literature that both adults and teens can enjoy. We are a literary enterprise dedicated to showcasing and promoting undiscovered and established writers who write for young adults (this is not to be mistaken for young adult writers). We are not affiliated with any writer’s organization or program and welcome writers at any stage of their writing career/ journey.

Sucker Literary Volume III

Available April 15, 2014

Bullied and alone, Ainsley seeks refuge in the arms of a strange boy. Time is slipping away for overachieving Sadie Lin, but reigniting an old flame might help. Scarred by a pressuring ex, Alexandra finally faces the rain. “Pasty and chubby” Charlotte makes a public play for the “Tan and Smooth” king. The beautiful girl in the black, lacy push-up bra says that it’s time for Brenn to stop lying . . . at least to herself. A halfway house is no home for Dawn—or is it? How will Dana survive knowing everyone at school thinks she’s a monster, when they just may be right? JJ and her crush finally get a moment alone—at his girlfriend’s hottest party of the year. Sixteen-year-old Sarah prepares for her first day of school by chaining up her Mamí in her bedroom. Alyssa’s life is a well-rehearsed ballet until a tragedy sends her hurtling towards a fall. Loving a boy is as simple as chemistry . . . unless that boy is an unstable element.

Eleven stories that delve into the depths of our experience—driven by fierce and untouched love that makes us seek, lose, fear, desire, long, reflect, survive, steal, protect, fall, and confess.

Founding Editor:
Hannah R. Goodman

Contributors:
The H8TE  Lilliam Rivera
Valentine’s Day  Claudia Classon
Halfway From  Shelli Cornelison
Her Tree Boy Blaze  Lina Branter
How To Fall  Kacey Vanderkarr
If it Rains  Kristina Wojtaszek
Black Lacy   Kimberly Kreines
Superpower  Mary Malhotra
The Chemistry of You and Me  Evelyn Ehrlich
Just a Matter of Time  Charity Tahmaseb
A Different Kind of Cute  Hannah R. Goodman

Find Sucker Literary
Sucker Literary website | Twitter | Goodreads

Buy Sucker Literary
Sucker Literary Anthology |  Sucker Literary Magazine Issue 1

Featured Author: Jim Webster

I'm happy to feature author Jim Webster today. He's here to talk about his newest book, Justice 4.1, a science-fiction/space opera novel, published by Safkhet Fantasy, and he brought along an excerpt from the book.

Interview with Jim Webster:

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

Some time in the mid 1970s, but I was mainly writing magazine and news paper articles as a freelance.

What’s the story behind the title Justice 4.1?

It wasn’t the initial title, so I might use that one somewhere else. We wanted something snappier, something which captured some of the underlying themes of the book. So Justice seemed to fit. But I added the 4.1 to help drive home the idea that they’d been trying to get it right for a while and who knows whether the current version work properly.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

I farm, I’m a freelance journalist/writer, I’ve done consultancy. 

Tell us a book by an indie author for which you’re an evangelist.

I really like the Banned Underground series by Will Macmillian Jones. The series grows and deepens as you get into it, and I think that in Bass Instinct he reached a whole new level.

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

Paperback, I’m reading The Wrong Stuff, K'Barthan Trilogy: Part 2 by MT McGuire.
The next one in the trilogy is expected soon so I’m making sure I’m ready for it.

What would your dream office look like?

It wouldn’t have me in it.

What are you working on now?

I’ve written the second book about the Tsarina Sector. It’s with the editor, and I’m working on the third. 

Excerpt from Justice 4.1

The flitter was hardly luxurious. It was a spacious workhorse with just enough concessions to comfort to deter personal injury claims from those who hired it. At the moment, it loitered over the northern highlands of the Border Kingdoms at a safe altitude. To their north, the highlands rose steadily until they became snow-capped and were lost in the clouds. Below them was a jumbled badlands of gorges and ridges, twisted rock, frost-shattered and crumbling. Wheeling below them was a pair of great four-winged aradons, keen-eyed carrion feeders. In the distance, perhaps five miles away, Kilonwin Kardoverin could just make out what might be another pair. As far as he could tell, they were the only signs of life in sight. He looked down; even with vision enhancers, the ridges showed virtually no sign of life. He counted three stunted bushes with occasional blades of grass poking through the loose scree.

Kardoverin strapped himself into the co-pilot seat and fiddled with the camera array, determined to get as much footage as possible. Kardoverin had a reputation in the industry as one of the best documentary makers in the sector. This reputation was based on arrogance, a casual disregard for personal safety, and painstaking camera work. He was reputed to get five times as much material as was needed, even for top quality holo work. He turned to the pilot. "Can we get lower? I'd like to film into those gorges."

"Why?"

"Well, there's damn all up here."

"Why not zoom?" The pilot sounded nervous.

"They're in heavy shadow."

"Look, this is the Border Kingdoms, it isn't safe."

Kardoverin adjusted the central rig and raked the peripheral arrays so that they covered both flanks.

"Take us down fast; we'll be through and out."

"They're barbarians! They shoot at people."

"With black powder weapons." Kardoverin's tone was dismissive as he checked the satellite relay. It seemed to be working perfectly. "Look, just go in, one quick fly-through. It isn't as if I'm asking you to land, or even hover."

The pilot muttered something blasphemous under his breath and brought the flitter round. "I'll take us up that gorge on the left, it's narrower. Being so overcast, it's less likely to be inhabited."

He opened the throttle and brought the bow of the flitter sharply down. The clumsy craft accelerated rather faster than Kardoverin had expected, and he hastily checked the camera focus. This model of vehicle was effectively a rectangular box which flew and had little consideration of style. But for his purposes, the open top meant it had been comparatively easy to fit the cameras. The pilot brought them down sharply, heading south, gaining speed as he lost altitude. Then suddenly, he spun the controls and the flitter turned and banked so sharply Kardoverin felt himself hanging in the harness. Then the pilot pointed the nose of his craft straight into the mouth of the gorge, still dropping and gaining speed. As they entered between the towering rock walls, they were barely twenty feet above the ground and moving faster than Kardoverin would have believed possible. Kardoverin kept his eyes on the monitors, running his fingers over the controls in front of him, altering the zoom, the angle, the filters. They were deep in the gorge now and the boxy craft was travelling at breakneck speed. Kardoverin constantly re-adjusted the controls. "Isn't this a bit fast?"

The pilot's answer came through clenched teeth. "If I could go faster, I would. I want us out of here and—" He paused. "Oh hell, we are in deep—"

There was a staccato rattle of automatic weapons fire from one side. The burst struck the pilot, jerking his body against the seat harness. Kardoverin tore his gaze from the monitors and looked towards where the noise had come from. The second burst hit the front of the flitter, and the engine began to whine. Kardoverin frantically unbuckled his harness and stood up to reach over the pilot's body for the controls. The third burst struck him in the chest, spun him round and left him draped over the side of the flitter. Thirty seconds later, with no one at the controls, the flitter struck the rock wall of the gorge and exploded.

About the author:

Jim Webster is probably fifty something, his tastes in music are eclectic, and his dress sense is rarely discussed in polite society. In spite of this he has a wife and three daughters.

He has managed to make a living from a mixture of agriculture, consultancy, and freelance writing. Previously he has restricted himself to writing about agricultural and rural issues but including enough Ancient Military history to maintain his own sanity. But seemingly he has felt it necessary to branch out into writing fantasy and Sci-Fi novels.

He lives in South Cumbria (which is in England)and thus he normally writes in English. Exposure to an editor who understands this sort of thing means he's managed to adapt to US spelling in his Sci-Fi.

Connect with Jim:
Goodreads

Buy the book:
Amazon

Featured Author: Susan Allison-Dean

Susan Allison-Dean is on tour with CLP Blog Tours, and she's here today to talk about her contemporary women's novel, I Know You're There. Keep reading for an excerpt of the book and a rafflecopter giveaway for a $35 Amazon gift card.

About the book:

Jill Bradley is a twenty-four-year-old nurse whose life is going great; she has established herself in her new career and she’s looking forward to getting engaged to her high school sweetheart. But faced with a watershed moment, she has to deal with simultaneous family tragedy, injury, and betrayal, and feels it’s way too much to cope with. In a moment of despair, Jill books a trip to a Caribbean island in an effort to escape. While she finds respite and romance, her problems have also packed their own suitcase.

Helen Bradley, Jill’s mother dedicated her entire life to her family like many mothers in the 1970’s and 80’s. Despite her best efforts, however, she hasn’t always been able to be the type of mother she wished she could be. She has a secret she was hoping would just go away, but it won’t. If she doesn’t share it with Jill it might bring her daughter more harm.

I Know You’re There is a mother-daughter journey, celebrating the highs and delving into the lows of family life. Can the power of love heal all things?

Interview with Susan Allison-Dean

Susan, how did you create the plot for this book?

From personal experience as a nurse and observation of nurses, I felt a need to share an example of the life experience of a nurse. I wanted to write a book that would hopefully represent the level of dedication nurses exhibit even when their personal lives are in turmoil. I wanted to balance this with the message that as strong as nurses are, they are human too.

Nurses were my target market for this novel. However, since there is such a strong mother-daughter story in it, many non-nurse women of all ages have given me very positive feedback. This has been a very welcome surprise.

Is your book based on real events?

The book is fiction, but there are some real events included.  For example, some of the marine mammal encounters and the ship rescue scene really happened to me while visiting the Caribbean.
What song would you pick to go with your book?
In the book, the protagonist, Jill wakes up hearing repeatedly the chorus to a song she has never heard.  That is how the title came to be, ‘I Know You’re There’.  I would love to see the rest of the song developed and made into its own song for the book.

How do you get to know your characters?

This has been a very exciting phenomenon as a new novelist. I find that my characters reveal themselves and their plights best when I am outside, alone in nature, either walking or gardening. Sometimes in the middle of the night, if I awaken and can’t fall asleep, my imagination will further develop them.

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

I am currently reading, The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert.  I bought the hardcover, because the book itself is a work of art.

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 get frustrated when writers inject a big vocabulary word into their story that doesn’t have enough substance built around the word so the reader can infer what it means. It feels like I am stubbing my toe, when I am flowing with the story and then, ugg, what does that word mean? Perhaps one of the best things about the invention of e-readers is that they help define words quickly.


Do you have a routine for writing?  Where and when do you prefer to do your writing?

Yes, I walk the dog in the morning and return to a place of solitude in my home and write as long as the story wants to flow. This is usually most of the morning. I have a really hard time writing fiction in the afternoon or evening. I write 5 to 6 days a week, I generally always take Sundays off.
 
You’re leaving your country for a year. What’s the last meal (or food) you would want to have before leaving?

Homemade stuffed organic roast chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, yumm, although, that may soon be changing. I am weaning myself over to becoming a vegetarian. I love animals and there are a growing number of health concerns with our meat these days.

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

The Armonk library in the town I grew up in. It has a room on the end that houses all the magazines and has two-winged backed chairs positioned by a sunny window. It’s the perfect place to sit and peruse for ideas and entertainment in the afternoon.

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

Head for the beach if at all possible.

Why did you decide to self-publish?

I was originally planning on going the traditional publishing route. I even submitted one query to an agent and got a letter of interest back in just one week, which I am told is rare. At that same time, the self-publishing options were growing exponentially.  In the end, I chose to go it on my own for a few reasons.

1. I had a timetable in mind and I didn’t want to delay it another year, two or more if the agent ultimately decided she wanted to represent the book.

2. I have experience in running a business. I was just as excited about the process of publishing and marketing my book as I was about writing it.

3. I needed validation from readers that I didn’t personally know that what I was writing was something others would want to read. Writing is a big time commitment, especially a book. I didn’t want to be like one of those poor American Idol contestants who think they can sing just because the people who love them say they’re good.

Are you happy with your decision to self-publish?

I am happy with my decision to self-publish. It has enabled me to understand in depth the different facets of the publishing business. Like any business, now I know which parts I want to delegate out because either I am not the best person to do that particular task or I don’t enjoy doing it.

Going forward, I have to say, I would be interested in entertaining a traditional or hybrid publishing option. I know now what parts of publishing are worth sharing the fruits of my labor for.

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 wrote a blog called "Is it really ‘self’ publishing?" In that blog, I basically talk about how this, in my opinion, is generally a misnomer. It would take a really talented person to write, edit, create a cover, and format his or her own book. I imagine there are some that can, but I certainly am not one of them. There are new tools coming on the market as we speak, however, that may make these steps easier.

I outsourced the graphics to Debra from Tugboat Design. She was amazingly patient and creative. She did my cover, formatting, and web art. My writing coach and editor, Alice Osborn was essential to my success as a writer.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?

"In the end only kindness matters" from the song "Hands" by Jewel. 
I try very hard to remind myself of that.

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

Are Rolos considered a candy bar? I love the blend of chocolate and caramel! 

What’s your favorite line from a book?

“How can you prepare to have a life without someone whom you have always had in yours?”

What three books have you read recently and would recommend?

Me, Before You by JoJo Moyes. Miss Moyes states in the beginning of the book that she considers it a love story. I would say it’s more a story about the power of choice.  Bravely written.

Wild by Cheryl Strayed. This struck me as a women’s version of Bill Bryson’s, A Walk in the Woods. Wild was not funny like Bryson’s book, but thought provoking and inspiring.

I haven’t read this last one, but I just heard Sue Monk-Kidd speak at a book signing last night. Her new book, The Invention of Wings, is going to the top of my read pile! I love her work.

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

Anything outdoors--walk, explore, go to the beach. I love to travel, especially to places that haven’t yet manipulated the natural habitat.

What are you working on now?

At present, I am working on a sequel to I Know You’re There. It should be available later this year.

Excerpt from I Know You're There

Chapter 1

Helen
OCTOBER 22, 1995

I woke up screaming, “It’s my fault! Jill, it’s my fault!”

Startled, I sat up and got my bearings. The top half of my white flannel nightgown was drenched in warm sweat that was now starting to cool. The alarm clock glared 12:20 am.
Thank God, I told myself. My daughter, Jill, a nurse at our local hospital had told me she was working a day shift, so she would be home in bed now. In my nightmare, Jill was in a room with two patients who both died at the same time. Frantic, she was screaming at them, “No, no, you can’t die!! No, you have to wake up! They will blame me, they will say it is all my fault!”

Guilt eroded my stomach. Somehow I would need to tell my baby the truth.

About the author:


Sue Allison-Dean is a nurse who retired from traditional practice in 1999, after working 13 years as a Wound, Ostomy, Continence Clinical Nurse Specialist. She found a second career in gardening after working in a garden center and completing an organic gardening internship at Highgrove Garden in England. She now co-owns Naturescapes with her landscape designer husband, Robert. She has authored several clinical and horticulture articles and was a contributing author to the bestselling book, Touched By A Nurse. She is passionate about the sea and loves exploring tropical islands. She extends this passion by doing volunteer work benefiting dolphins and whales. Sue splits her time between Armonk, New York and Cary, North Carolina, with her husband and English bulldog, Bubba.

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

Buy the book:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble  

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Featured Author: Carol E. Wyer

 

Hello and welcome to the Grumpy Old Menopause blog tour! Having taken the world by storm and rocketed up the charts to become the #1 best selling book on Amazon, this light and humorous guide to beating the more unpleasant symptoms of the menopause is essential reading for anyone going through or simply preparing themselves for this unavoidable change. So buckle up and let Carol E. Wyer show you how it's done!

 

About the book:

Have you started to write post-it notes with your kids' names on them? Do you need to change your underwear after every sneeze? Guess it's time to read this book then. It'll help you get through "that" time in your life with a spring in your step and a smile on your face.

With numerous suggestions, sensible advice and amusing anecdotes, Grumpy Old Menopause will help you sail through that tricky part of a woman's life with ease and humour. It should prevent you from turning into Mrs Crabby or worse still, a demonic monster.

What they say:
"An excellent mix of humour and sound advice. This book is a must-read for all women ... I highly recommend Grumpy Old Menopause. It is the perfect blend of humour and excellent advice to help all women sail through the menopause." - Nicky Snazell, Fi STOP Consultant Physiotherapist in Spinal Pain, Fellow of Institute for the Study and Treatment of Pain. International Lecturer in Pain and Health.

Interview with Carol E. Wyer

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

Hmm. I started many years ago, in my twenties, but I didn’t really get serious until my thirties when a series of animal stories that taught French to children were picked up by a big publishing house. Sadly, I had to pull them as my best friend and illustrator of the stories died suddenly. I began writing again in earnest as I approached the big Five-Oh and decided it was time to fulfill my desire to be a full-time writer.

What inspired you to write Grumpy Old Menopause?

This is the second spin-off guide, the first being How Not to Murder Your Grumpy. It all came about thanks to the many emails I received about my first book, Mini Skirts and Laughter Lines. The main character in that is Amanda Wilson, a woman facing fifty who writes a funny blog about her experiences. Women kept writing to say how much they enjoyed the book and how refreshing it was to read something funny about menopause symptoms.
I decided to take it a step further and write a funny guide. Behind the humour in it there’s a lot of advice too. I researched thoroughly and spoke not only to other women going through the menopause but doctors, experts in alternative medicine and many ladies who had gone through it early thanks to serious illnesses. That way, I was able to create a balanced book that although it doesn’t answer all questions should give women a starting point, and a giggle.

How long did it take you to write this book?

Over a year. It took almost a year to gather all my research material. In fact, after I finished it and it was being proofread, I still kept discovering new material, so I set up the Grumpy Old Menopause website that I update once a month with stuff I couldn’t fit into the book.

What do you hope readers will get from Grumpy Old Menopause?

Laughs and some strategies to help them cope with the symptoms they might experience. I wanted the book to give the reader the impression they were sitting down with a good girlfriend and having a laugh about the menopause. Humour is a good way to educate and often a lot of advice, especially medical advice can be too complicated.

I love the title Grumpy Old Menopause! How did you come up with it?

It just seemed so obvious. I double checked that no one else had thought of it to make sure.

Do you have another job outside of writing?

Looking after Mr. Grumpy. Some might say that isn’t a job but anyone who lives with a grumpy, old, retired man knows how much time you need to devote to them!

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

#GrumpyOldMenopause is like having a proper girly chat about all those things that worry you 

How did you come up with your cover art?

My publishers, Safkhet Publishing, came up with it. The cover is the same as the back cover of How Not to Murder Your Grumpy. On How Not to Murder Your Grumpy, you see a man doing a bungee jump on the front cover. If you flip over, you see a woman has pushed him off the bridge. We reversed the cover images for this book. Clever eh?

What song would you pick to go with your book?

"Don’t Touch It!" by MC Hammer.

Actually, I like the Planet Sweetpea version on YouTube called "Don’t Touch Me!" I sing that such a lot these days.

Who are your favorite authors?

I love Ben Elton, Janet Evanovich, Stella Rimmington, James Patterson, and Harlan Coben. Eclectic or what? Before I began writing, reading was my passion, and I don’t mind what I read. I’m not, however, keen on war stories or heavy historical romances. I enjoy thrillers, horror, humour, and 16th Century English. 

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

I’ve got a huge pile of books to read. When I go away I take my iPad because I speed read and carrying twenty books in a suitcase is not an option. Sadly, I am really behind on my reading. I have about thirty paperbacks to read on top of the books on my Kindle. I need some time off to catch up.


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

One of the bonuses of going through the menopause, is that I now suffer from insomnia. That means I can work all through the night if I need to. I find I can think more clearly then because there aren’t any distractions. There’s always something going on during the daytime. Nights are more peaceful and I can get far more done. (No interruptions by you-know-who requesting feeding, or being forced to listen to him complain non-stop about the weather, the roads, education and so on.) I usually try to stop about three o’ clock or so and grab a couple of hours sleep if I can, so I don’t look too horrendous when I face the world, although you can always tell when I’m writing--I have enormous black bags under my eyes and am even more vacant that usual.

Name one thing you couldn’t live without. (It can’t be your phone!)

My beloved Mr. Grumpy but don’t tell him. Oh, thing not person. That’s harder because we moved a couple of years ago and threw out everything we’d owned up until then. Yes, everything! Okay, my laptop. I couldn’t be without my laptop and my old teddy bear who’s been with me since I was a child. He’s very tatty but I still love him. If it were between the laptop and teddy then teddy would have to go. *cries*

If you could only keep one book, what would it be?

Oh no! I couldn’t have only one book. I have a room filled with books and several boxes of them in the garage that won’t fit into the house. I can’t part with any of them. Can I have a box set? Oo-er, if I you held a gun against my head and said “Choose one!” I’d grab the first book on my bookcase, Gentlemen and Players by Joanne Harris. It’s a signed copy and it was bought by Mr Grumpy. It’s also about a private school and reminds me of my time as a teacher too.

Your last meal would be…

A bottle of champagne and a large bowl of penne pasta with parmesan cheese and parsley. Yum!

You won the lottery. What’s the first thing you would buy?

A small twin engine aeroplane for Mr. Grumpy. (And a large hangar to put it in.) That would definitely make him a Mr. Happy.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?

Smile while you still have teeth.

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

Traveling. I love everything about traveling. I love hotels, new places to discover, and new languages. I even enjoy the journey. Better not tell my other half that though. He’ll cancel my next trip and tell me to go and sit at the airport to people-watch as it’s cheaper.

What are you working on now?

I’ve just completed a short story collection, Love Hurts. Each has a twist. They are not normal love stories and will surprise my readers. I’m also now working on my next humorous novel set at a hospital radio station. It’s fun to write, and I hope it’ll make people laugh.

From the author:

I have always written stories. My early stories were for children and sported silly titles like Humphrey and the Dustbin Cats, Hurrah for Hugo! and Noir and Blanc - Two Naughty Cats. They taught French language to younger children and were accompanied by a tape of French songs, mercifully not sung by me. I began writing for adults after my son left home. I converted his old bedroom into an office and set about writing humorous novels largely aimed at women of a certain age. The rest is history.

Following much media success with Mini Skirts and Laughter Lines, I signed the Amanda Wilson novels with Thornberry Publishing. In 2012, I was lucky enough to be offered a three book deal with Safkhet Publishing. They have published How Not to Murder Your Grumpy and Just Add Spice, and released Grumpy Old Menopause, the sister book to How Not to Murder Your Grumpy, in December 2013. I now write full-time. When I am not working on a novel, I'll be writing articles for magazines such as Woman’s Weekly, or blog posts for The Huffington Post and Indies Unlimited. My books aim to encourage as many people as possible to age disgracefully and enjoy life. After all, life is short and 'he who laughs...lasts!'  

Connect with Carol

Facebook | Twitter | Blog | Website | YouTube | Huff Post| Publisher

Buy the book

Click Here To Buy This Book - UK

Click Here To Buy This Book - US

A Grumpy Old Success
Since its release, Grumpy Old Menopause has been featured on no less than 28 radio stations and the Staying Young Show over in the US. Magazines have come-a-knocking too, with articles in Take a Break, Women's Weekly, Women and Golf Magazine, Wolverhampton Magazine and Staffordshire Life, while the bright lights of prime time TV also beckoned when Carol was interview on BBC Breakfast Television in November 2013 - click here to watch the interview.  

***GIVEAWAY***

 

Win a signed copy of Grumpy Old Menopause and an edible Chocolate Scrabble board game - 'helps improve your brain and when you're angry eat the pieces,' says Carol.

Easy Entry via the Rafflecopter below:

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Terms and conditions

Carol E. Wyer and BestChickLit reserve the right to cancel or amend the giveaway at point.

Featured Author: Billie Bates

Billie Bates is here today with CLP Blog tours, to talk about her new chick lit novel, Private Air

, and to share an excerpt from the book.

About the book:

When Sienna Harris joined the Air Force as a flight attendant for the Prime Minister, she thought she’d hit the glam-job jackpot. Turns out baby kissing for election tours in Australia equals staying in dodgy towns not worthy of a map dot. Not quite Air Force One.

Lucky for Sienna, her best friend discovers a whole other world of corporate aviation in the Middle East. With the glitz glamour and ridiculous salary, Sienna’s convinced she’s landed in an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. But bring in a looks-obsessed chief stewardess who despises the fact Sienna’s never heard of frizz serum, a handsome pilot who could charm the knickers off a nun, and a playboy prince who’s never told no, and Sienna starts wondering if this proverbial desert oasis is more of a muddy puddle.

You might call it clichéd. She calls it aviation’s best-kept secret with a healthy side of get-me-the-hell-out-of-here-before-I-drown-in-a-vial-of-Botox.

The Devil Wears Prada meets Pan Am in this fun frolic to the glamorous side of aviation. 



Interview with Billie Bates

Billie, do you have another job outside of writing?

I’m a stay-at-home-mom, so I write when the kids are at school or asleep. I’m also a certified yoga teacher and Thai Yoga therapist, but between writing and my family, I don’t have time to teach anymore. I still do occasional Thai Yoga Therapy sessions, just because it’s such a beautiful healing modality to share. It’s hard to describe, but it’s kind of like a blend of yoga, acupressure massage, and Reiki. 


What's your favorite line from a book?

“Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing.” – The Picture of Dorian Gray (Oscar Wilde). That’s actually 5 lines, but what a simple yet profound statement. My soul vibrates a little when I read these words aloud.  




Which character did you most enjoy writing?

I loved writing Kendi. She’s so free spirited and unconcerned with what people think of her. Which is half admirable and half absurd. 

 


What would your main character say about you?

She’d probably feel sorry for me and think I’m living her worst nightmare... an ordinary life!

 



Are any of your characters inspired by real people?

Yes. Mostly all of the characters were at some point ‘inspired’ by real people. But the moment I let go of the attachment to the real people was the moment the characters and story got interesting. 



Is your book based on real events?

Not the plot. I was in the Royal Australian Air Force, and I was also a flight attendant in the Middle East and Europe. But I was older and wiser than the protagonist, and nowhere near as insecure or reckless in my decision-making! So my aviation experience was fun, but mostly uneventful. The thing is, there’s no story in ‘uneventful’. 



Very true! With which of your characters would you most like to be stuck in a
bookstore?
 
Probably Kendi. Just for a laugh. She’d be the person reading erotica out loud just to cause a scene!


What song would you pick to go with your book?

"Don’t Stop Believin’" by Journey.
 



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

The Hidden Tools of Comedy: The Serious Business of Being Funny by Steve Kaplan. I’m alternating between the Kindle edition and the paperback copy.

Where and when do you prefer to do your writing?

I can write anywhere. Cafes, home, public transport... I try not to write in the shower.
I prefer to write in the morning. I’m always so exhausted by the time I get the kids to bed, which means I’m not as productive at night. But I still pull out the computer, even if I just end up writing chapter headings.
 



If you could only keep one book, what would it be?

The Power of Now – Eckhart Tolle




You're given the day off, and you can do anything but write. What would you do?
 
I’d take my kids to the beach. If I didn’t have the kids and it was a ‘me’ day? I’d probably go the Gold Class cinema, settle back with a flatbread and wine, and enjoy a movie marathon! Either that or settle in at home with a soy latte and some dark chocolate and read a few screenplays.

Why did you decide to self publish?

I feel I have 5 books in me, max (depending on how well received my first 2 novels are!), but my first passion is screenwriting. So the process of finding a traditional publisher and then the commitments you have to make them (in exchange for very little), sounded too daunting. 


What's your favorite candy bar? And don't tell me you don't have one!
 
I eat so much chocolate that I try to be ‘good’ by buying raw organic dark chocolate. But I won’t lie, I’ll eat anything as long as it’s made with sugar and not high fructose corn syrup. Chocolate bars in the USA, like Snickers, actually taste too sweet for me. I’m convinced it’s because of the HFCS (they use cane sugar in Australia).  



What three books have you read recently and would recommend?

1. Remember Me? Sophie Kinsella.

2. Me Talk Pretty One Day – David Sedaris.

3. Inside Story by Dara Marks. An amazing book for screenwriters, with a theme-heavy approach to writing scripts.

But you won’t find this thematic depth in my books! I like to refer to my novels as ‘Pancake Fiction’. You know, light and fluffy, enjoy it in the moment, then forget about it (because the diet always starts the next day).





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

I like to spend time with my husband and children, go to the movies, take a yoga class, or read. I love listening to live music in the summer. Something acoustic and unplugged... reminds me of Australia for some reason, especially if it’s on a Sunday afternoon.
 



If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
 
Southern California or Vail, Colorado. Or maybe a split between the two!



What's one of your favorite quotes?

“Believe in Santa, love at first sight, and that your ship will come in. As long as you do, your life is bound to be Golden!” – Diane Muldrow, from her book, Everything I need to know I learned from a Little Golden Book.

I even use this quote in the opening of my second book. I’m all about believing in fairytales and The Secret. LOL


What are you working on now?

A few things, actually.

Firstly, my follow up novel, Catch a falling Czar. It’s much more romance-centric than Private Air. I love getting caught up in the confusion, misunderstandings, and fluttering heartbeats of young love! Private Air has minor romantic elements, but it’s in no way the focus.

Secondly, one of my scripts (not chick lit) recently placed in a few film festivals, so I’m also polishing that on the side and hoping to send it out to the industry later this year.


Lastly, I’ve loosely outlined a prequel to Private Air and a Desire Lit offshoot of the Private Air books from Kendi’s point of view. But I’ll have to wait and see how books 1 and 2 go before excavating those stories any further.

Excerpt from Private Air

A glow of excitement washed over me as I jumped in a cab. Mike still didn’t know I was in town, so my arrival would be a sweet surprise. We’d been doing the long distant thing for three years, which wasn’t terrible, since I only had to worry about shaving my legs once every two weeks. But now that we were engaged and my contract was up with the RAAF, the plan was for me to discharge and move here to be with him.

I’d always imagined taking time out to travel the world after my military contract ended, but life didn’t always turn out as planned.  And even if giving up flying and living in Williamtown wasn’t quite the jet-set life I’d envisioned, being the wife of a fighter pilot wouldn’t be terrible, either. What girl didn’t want to find a fun swoon-worthy man to love and settle down with? I pushed aside the niggling thought that I was giving up on pursuing my dreams, and focused on nicer thoughts, like bubble baths… and reenacting love scenes from Top Gun.

Fifteen minutes later, the taxi pulled up next to Mike’s black Nissan 350Z. Beyonce blared from the living room. Beyonce? Other than the Top Gun soundtrack, I usually couldn’t get him to listen to anything but AC/DC.

I stepped through the front door to his townhouse and called out over the music, “Mike? It’s me, babe, where are you?”

I needn’t have asked.

Mike sat in the living room in his boxers, his hands behind his back in fluffy pink handcuffs, while a flame-haired Glamazonian, complete with leopard print thong, gyrated on his lap to Crazy in Love.

I froze, halfway through the door, with my hand still on the doorknob and my jaw on the floor. My initial thought was I’d just seen my first pair of bare, silicone boobs. Not a common sight in the circles we hung with.

Mike, although stunned, didn’t look nearly as worried as I thought he should. “Sienna, what are you doing here?” he asked.

My stomach lurched into my throat.

Big Red got off his lap, apparently bored, but didn’t attempt to clothe herself or to un-cuff him. She switched off the music with the remote, looked me up and down (or just down, considering she stood six feet tall), and swaggered to the bedroom. “Let me know when you’re done,” she called over her shoulder.

“Sienna, it’s not what it looks like,” Mike said.

“That’s original.” What I really wanted to say was, So you’re not getting a lap dance? You’re just having your crotch polished and her panties are the Shamwow? But the saliva build-up in my throat only let me swallow.

He sighed. “Why don’t you un-cuff me, then we can talk. The keys are over there on the coffee table.” He nodded in the direction of the table. The table I’d given him as a housewarming gift. In a daze, I inched over.

He took my silence as a cue to continue. “Arizona is a stripper, okay, but it’s not as sleazy as it looks. We’re old friends.”

I thought over a list of activities I participated in with old friends. Lap dancing didn’t come to mind.

“There’s no easy way to say this, sweet-thing...” He tilted his head in pity. “Arizona and I have fallen in love.”

My heart stopped.

I didn’t know which was more insulting; that he’d paid another woman to gyrate on his groin, or that he was in love with another woman who’d been gyrating on his groin.

The blood that had drained from my face returned with full force. “You’re in love? You still call her by her stage name and you think you’re in love? You have a fifteen thousand dollar ring on another girl’s finger, and you think you’re in love?” My voice didn’t come close to matching my internal meltdown.

“Sienna, I’m so sorry, babe, this is hard for me too, you know. I was waiting for the right time to tell you. I guess the heart just wants what the heart wants...”

I stared at his bound and pathetic self and felt an overwhelming urge to kick the chair from beneath him. “No Michael, in your case I think the dick just wants what the dick wants.” I picked up a lipstick from the table and examined the base. Final Seduction. How appropriate. Mike sat jaw clenched as I wrote the word DICK across his forehead in hooker-red lipstick, then turned and walked out the door.

“I’m keeping the ring,” I called over my shoulder as I left.

     *********                                                                          

Two days later, I was back in Canberra freezing my butt-cheeks off on the rifle range. Weapons handling only came around twice a year, but I couldn’t stand it. Raw blisters in the webbing of my thumbs and bruises on my hipbones from shooting in the prone position, weren’t my idea of a fun day out.

“Harris!” The sergeant’s voice bellowed out over the range. “Unload your rifle and get to the shelter! Your Commanding Officer’s on the phone!”

Thank God. They probably needed me for a flight, which meant I’d get out of spending the rest of the day firing (or misfiring). Although, picturing Mike’s face on the target had me shooting with much higher accuracy than usual.

I unloaded my rifle, handed the sergeant my magazine, and pulled my camouflage-pant’s pockets inside out. “No live rounds or ammunition in my possession, Sarge!” I barked.
               
He nodded abruptly and kept the line-up waiting while he addressed me. “You flight stewardesses think you’re above military requirements just because you jet around the country with the Prime Minister,” he said. “Harris, I want you back on this rifle range before the month is out or I’ll write you up as un-current and therefore grounded. You won’t be flying anywhere!”
               
“Yes Sergeant, I’ll report back as soon as I land.”
               
“Dismissed.” He scowled at me, then turned back to the line-up. “Ready! Instant! Fire!”
               
I skipped inside and took the receiver from the admin clerk. “Wing Commander Worthington? This is Corporal Harris.” I rolled up my camo-shirt sleeves, so relieved to be out of the cold.

“Sie, it’s me, Kendi. I had one of the boys pretend to be Worthington. Look, I’m heading over to Betsey’s Pizza Kitchen, you have to come and meet me ASAP. I have some news you’re gonna freak over!”
               
“Of course, sir, right away.” I shrugged to the admin clerk as I hung up the phone. “Duty calls,” I said, which wasn’t entirely untrue.
                                                                               
      *********

I cranked the heater in my old silver MX5 and waved to the security officer as I drove off the RAAF base. Don Henley’s "Boys of Summer" came on the radio. I turned it up to sing along at full volume, trying to push away memories of a road trip to Sydney I’d taken with Mike. The same song had blared from my stereo, and he’d covered his ears in pretend protest against my off-key singing.

I just couldn’t get my head around Mike’s snap-one-eight (fighter pilot jargon for one hundred and eighty degree turn). One minute we’re talking marriage, kids and me giving up my career to support him in his (something that had taken a lot of convincing for me to be onboard with, might I add). The next minute he’s in love with Tacky Jacky. I mean, seriously, leopard print thong? And Kendi thought I was stuck in the Eighties!

I’d really underestimated Mike’s immaturity, or else my wanker-radar had been turned off for three years. I felt like a peanut shell crushed into a dirty bar floor. Mike was the foot. I guess that made Arizona the dirty bar floor.
                 
I slid into an empty parking space outback of Betsy’s, then switched my camouflage shirt for a black, Roxy zip-front sweater.
               
Inside, Kendi sat in a corner booth with her laptop, a maxi mug of mochaccino, and what I hoped was a latte for me. She wore a pink cashmere sweater and black skinny jeans, her golden mane pulled back in a ponytail. Kendi always looked put together, even when casual. Unlike me, who always looked casual, even when put together.
               
“Sienna, you’ve got to get a load of this,” she said, throwing her tiny size-two frame around me for a hug, then dragging me down in front of her laptop.
               
I took my latte and scrolled through the article she’d pulled up.
               
"Life in the Fast Plane," the title read. Beside it, a picture of a handsome, clean-shaven Arab man. He waved from the stairs of a gleaming white Boeing 737 private jet. Two stunning flight attendants stood at the bottom of the stairs wearing black ‘60s-style baby doll dresses, knee-high boots, and sailor caps.

Gone are the days of wealth being rated by the number of Ferraris parked in one’s driveway or the size of one’s home in St Tropez. The new Jet Set make their status known by racking up air miles in their private ‘homes with wings’.

Leading the pack with his ostentatious display of wealth is Arab billionaire playboy, Prince Mohamed Al Saif, whom is often snapped at celebrity events with a different glamazon under his arm each time. Prince Mohammed Al Saif, 46, is a distant relative to the King of Saudi Arabia and has reportedly been pulled over the coals more than once by the Royal family for his overtly ‘Americanized’ lifestyle of excess.

He most recently made headlines for winning the Celebrity Car Race for Cancer last fall (a wild card entry since he funds 60% of the event), and rumors abound that his personal trainer, chef, and aircrew, all have salaries that equal that of a Chief Executive Officer…

My heart palpitated. Aircrew on salaries equaling a Chief Executive Officer? Okay, so it referred to Aussie CEOs, not quite Enron, but I didn’t need to read any more. I felt punch-drunk as I imagined a world of glamorous uniforms, exotic locations, and tax-free dollars. My very own Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

Kendi always joked that I needed an upgrade to Cribs, since Lifestyles was so last decade, but I thought it a poor imitation. And even though I’d never tried caviar or champagne (the real stuff, at least), there was something in the way ‘champagne wishes and caviar dreams’ rolled off Robin Leach’s tongue, that made me think I should want those things more than anything in the world.
               
Kendi grinned at my salivating and clicked open a new window. The title read Van Hutton VIP Crew Agency. Below it was a photo of an immaculately groomed woman in her fifties. She had a silver bob and sat with her diamond-encrusted hands laced in front of her.
               
Crewing privately owned aircraft in Europe and the Middle East since 1988.

I scanned the contact information. The phone and fax numbers were British.

I didn’t know which was more shocking, that enough private flying existed to justify a crewing agency, or that we didn’t know about it.
               
“I FedExed my résumé while you were away last week,” Kendi said. “Moira Van Hutton called me herself, Sie! She’s the one who told me to look the Prince up on line, to see if it’s someone I’d care to work for,” she said, imitating posh English. “And that’s not all, she was so impressed with my work history she asked if I could recommend any other girls for her books, ‘only slim and attractive ones’ though. Sienna, we’ve got to get your résumé to her.”
               
This caught me off guard. “She really said ‘only slim and attractive’? Isn’t that breaking the discrimination act?” I didn’t know if I’d tick the ‘slim’ box. ‘Strong’ maybe. And next to Kendi I probably looked stocky. And how attractive did she mean? The girls in the photo looked like models.

Kendi’s blue eyes narrowed, possibly mistaking my deep thought for hesitation. “Sienna, this is your dream job. Hell, throw in the ridiculous salary and it’s better than your dream job. You’d have a first-hand glimpse at the life you fantasize about every bloody time you watch re-runs of Lifestyles. You’d be like Robin Leach in a dress. A cute, sixties style, baby-doll dress.”

I exhaled, blowing my chocolate bangs off my forehead. “No, I know. Trust me, I’m actually so excited about this I feel sick.” I looked down at my trembling hands. Goose bumps and my hands are shaking, I thought, which meant I wanted this bad. “I’m just in shock. Mostly by my first reaction, which was, thank God I’m not tied down with Mike.” Maybe I was more like my mum than I thought. That could’ve been why I felt sick. She’d run off when I was twelve for a chance at her own champagne wishes and caviar dreams.

“Oh shit, hon, I’m sorry. We’ve barely talked about how you’re doing with the whole Mike screwing you over thing.”

I circled the base of my cup on the table. “I’m doing okay. I just can’t decide what’s more insulting; Mike leaving me for a dirty bar-floor, or Aunty Pearl suggesting it was because I’d let myself go.”

Kendi raised an eyebrow. “Peanut-shell analogy?”

“Yeah...” I looked at her inquisitively.

“You used it once about your mum, except she was the foot.”

“Actually, she was the foot, and the dirty bar floor.”

My Dad had died in a fighter-jet crash when I was twelve. Aspartame induced flicker vertigo, the coroner’s report read. Go figure, diet cola killed my dad. Six months later, Mum met an LA movie producer on a SYD-LAX flight and famously got fired for joining the mile high club with him. She dumped her Qantas uniform in a trashcan and never came back. Hank, the movie producer, married her but didn’t like kids, which is how I ended up living with Aunty Pearl and Uncle Stan.

“And Pearl really asked if you’d let yourself go? That’s gotta be the shittiest thing she could have said! Short of asking if you’d been giving him enough blow-jobs, that is.”

I stifled a laugh and shrugged it off. “You know what she’s like. A sweetheart, but old fashioned as hell.” I mindlessly folded my paper napkin into an airplane. “Private flight attendant for a Saudi Arabian prince.” Just saying it out loud sounded beyond exotic. I took a deliberate breath then swigged down the last of my latte. If there was a flying position out there even more prestigious than the one we already had and paid ten times as much, I wanted to be doing it. No, I had to be doing it. Just knowing about it made my little military gig now seem mediocre.

I returned to the previous window and traced my finger along the wing of the BBJ 737. Pure, giddy excitement overrode any lingering sadness about Mike.
      
I squeezed my hands into fists to stop them shaking. “I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do to get this job.” A smile curled the corners of my mouth. “Let’s do this.”

About the author:


Billie Bates grew up in Australia with unquenchable thirst for travel. After exploring the world as a VIP flight attendant for seven years, she finally settled in the quiet Midwest of the USA, where she now lives with her husband and two children.

Connect with Billie:
Website |

 Facebook | 

Twitter 

Buy the Book:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble and wider distribution begins March 15.

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Featured Author: Adrienne Barbeau

Adrienne Barbeau is on tour with CLP Blog Tours, and she's stopping here today with an excerpt from her newest book, Love Bites, a Vampyres of Hollywood novel.

About the book:

NOT YOUR MAMA’S POLICE PROCEDURAL! A COP STORY WITH BITE...



Not to mention sharp, cutting wit. Detective Peter King and movie star Ovsanna Moore are the sexiest tongue-in-cheek crime-solving duo since Moonlighting hit the air waves in the ‘80s. But they may remind you more of True Blood’s Sookie and Eric than Maddie and David—because one of them’s a vampire. And like Sookie’s Bon Temps, their Los Angeles has its fair share of shapeshifting sometime-humans. 



Ovsanna’s the successful owner of her own Hollywood film studio and the star of 17 blockbuster horror films, plus three, sadly, that went straight to video. But even vampires have bad days. Though never fat days or bad hair days—she looks pretty great for 450. And in those four and a half centuries she’s pretty much seen everything, formed an opinion about it, and developed the kind of worldly-wise wit Joan Rivers only dreams about. 



Peter, on the other hand, is a Beverly Hills cop firmly rooted in human affairs, from the domestic issues of his lively Italian family to the romantic ones of his neighbor, snake dancer Suzie Q. Though Ovsanna’s had flings with everyone from Genghis Khan to Errol Flynn, Peter’s got what it takes to catch her eye and hold her interest. And he’s one hell of a detective. He's also a consummate master of spin, concealing what he knows about the world of vampires, werewolves, and shapeshifters while solving the crimes they commit. 



Barbeau, a beloved actress much like Ovsanna herself, is a skilled satirist possessed of a sharp eye for the absurdity of Hollywood, with its petty jealousies, vain ambitions, over-the-top visuals, and twisted values. The result of all these delicious elements? An action-packed mystery, a sly satire, and a lush love story, spiced and seasoned with paranormal characters that the author manages to turn into metaphors for the monsters we all encounter on a daily basis.

Other books by Adrienne:

Excerpt from Love Bites

I am nearly 500 years old. My skin is flawless, my butt is tight, and my tits don’t need help staying up. Unless you impale me, dismember me, decapitate or drown me, you can’t do me much damage. I’ve been stabbed, scalded, and stretched on the rack, and I have survived. I’ve been burned, flayed, and shot, and I have survived. I’ve lived through the Thirty Years War, the French Revolution and the Spanish Inquisition. The Taiping Rebellion, the Boxer Rebellion, two World Wars and a couple of scathing movie reviews from the L.A. Times. And two weeks ago, with a little help from my personal assistant and a hunky Beverly Hills cop, I managed to do away with the mother of all evil, leaving me the most powerful vampyre in North America. I’m not saying I’m invincible, but I’ve got a pretty good track record when it comes to dealing with danger.

So why was I so terrified to drive over the hill to Studio City to have Christmas Eve dinner with the parents of a man I barely know?

He looks like a cross between Springsteen and the model they use in all those paintings of Christ. Melt-in-your-mouth-attractive. Water-in-the-desert attractive. Good-looking enough to get me going just staring at him, and that doesn’t happen very often, believe me. The last time was Nureyev, in the sixties. It’s the cheekbones. I like the ones you can cut paper on.

His name is Peter King and he’s a detective with the Beverly Hills police. Early forties. Divorced. We met two weeks ago when he was assigned by his Captain to investigate the murders of my business partner, three of my stars, and an employee of my film company, Anticipation Studios. Yes, five murders, all connected to me. I am Ovsanna Moore, writer, producer, and star of seventeen blockbuster horror films, several less than successful ones, and a few that went straight to DVD. In the film business, I’m known as a Scream Queen. In my private life--my very private life--I’m known as Ovsanna Hovannes Garabedian, Chatelaine of the Clan Dakhanavar of the First Bloodline. A vampyre. 

A fairly powerful vampyre, when you consider my clan includes most of the A-list Hollywood stars--past and present.

Peter King knows what I am. And he’d asked me out just hours after he’d discovered my secret. I found that intriguing. I like a man who’s not put off by an extra set of teeth. I was intrigued enough to accept his invitation.

So there I was, standing in my dressing room on Christmas Eve, throwing clothes on the floor as fast as I could try them on and get them off again. I’d already eliminated a Costume National suit and my Diesel jeans. What should I wear to meet the family of a man I’d already fed on, but barely knew? I was so nervous, if I’d had a gag reflex, I’d have been on my knees in front of the toilet.

Meeting his parents, for God’s sake? On Christmas Eve?

I’d just taken my Caroline Herrera smoke suede pants off the hanger when the fowl started honking.

Someone was in my yard.

I rely on a gaggle of geese to sound an alarm. It’s an idea I borrowed from Louis XVI and I swear it’s more effective than my high tech security system. Like Louis, geese are territorial, and when they’re upset, they’re loud.

This time they were making a hell of a racket.

I let my senses sharpen. I am of the Dakhanavar clan--vampyre elite--with extremely honed sight, smell, and hearing. When I choose to, I can hear conversations taking place a half mile away. I stood still and listened.

I heard the geese.

I heard the koi in the pond. The waterfall hitting the stream. The neighbor’s cat cleaning herself out on the street. And more f*^#ing geese.

But I couldn’t hear the intruder.
 
Who was it, Marcel Marceau?

I couldn’t smell him either, which meant he wasn’t human. Humans give off a distinctive scent, specific to their tribe. What I did smell, over the goose shit and honeysuckle, was something pungent and feral.

I dropped the hanger and the pants on the floor, and moved through my bedroom into my office. Whoever it was had had to scale the two foot wide, twelve foot tall stucco wall that surrounds my property--he wasn’t there by accident. I unsheathed my fangs, but kept my claws in so I could use the computer to bring up the security cameras trained on the grounds. 

I hit the keyboard and my 45” monitor split into eight screens, giving me a 360 degree view of my property. I could see the guest cottage, the pool, the squash court, the front drive--nothing there save honking fowl. They had spread all over the yard, which they didn’t usually do, and had completely abandoned their resting place by the waterfall. Which is where I finally saw movement; behind the thick bougainvillea on the far side of the stream.

You remember those scenes in Angel where David Boreanaz was standing on one side of the room and suddenly, without being seen, he was somewhere else? That’s what vampyres do. We transport ourselves so quickly that we become momentarily invisible. Something having to do with the speed of light. In the movies we call it space shifting. I don’t do it very often; I don’t have the need. My lack of practice was evident in the several seconds it took me to get to my yard. I’ve got to get back in shape.

The smell near the water was overpowering, like burning manure, and I knew for certain whatever was there wasn’t human. Or female. No bitch on earth gives off that kind of stench. I dropped my fangs, let my claws out, and studied the ground, as everything took on the glowing clarity of my vampyre vision. 

The sound of his claws pushing off the cliff fifteen feet above me brought my head up, just in time to see him hurtling down on me from the waterfall. I threw my arms out to deflect him and my nails sunk into his fur. He was some sort of wolf, three times the size of a Grey, with rabid orange eyes and a coat so black it disappeared against the darkening sky. I could feel it, though. A coarse, grimy undercoat, thick enough to act like armour, and then the outer pelage, as sharp as porcupine quills with razor-like edges. His muzzle was wide and long, overfilled with an extra set of yellow fangs that peeled his lips into a Jack Nicholson rictus and sprayed me with white foam. A Tom Savini wet dream. With foul breath.

I met him in mid-launch and we went down in the water. He had me pinned beneath him with all four paws. The stream was only inches deep. I’d spent thousands of dollars lining it with broken tourmaline granite. If I’d known I’d be playing Little Red Riding Hood, I’d have bought moss. The f#*^ing rocks were making mincemeat of my back. At least, I was nude; having to bleach my own blood out of my suede pants would have left me doubly pissed.

He shifted his weight to his front paws, pressing my shoulders deeper into the rocks, and tried going for my neck with his fangs. I couldn’t throw him off. He must have weighed 250 pounds. I held him back with both hands, my claws slicing through his pelt into his flesh. His muzzle was inches from my face, snarling and slashing from side to side. His breath was rancid, infected, like the stench of a sewer. I couldn’t get close enough to get my mouth on him. Feral saliva dripped like acid in my eyes. I wedged a leg under his belly and gashed it with my claws. I tried again for his bowels but he trapped my leg with his hind paw. Blood from his belly poured down on my breasts, pooling between them and slimeing down through my legs into the water. 

We struggled like that for minutes, holding each other at bay in a thrashing embrace. I was snarling; he was growling; the geese were honking. He was stronger than I was, in that position anyway, and if I couldn’t do something to get out from under him soon, the only Peter I was going to be spending Christmas with was a guy in a robe with the key to a gate. 

About the author:

Adrienne began her career in 1963 with the San Jose Civic Light Opera. After graduating high school, she traveled with a musical comedy revue, entertaining our servicemen on Army bases throughout Southeast Asia. In 1965, she moved to New York where she made her Broadway debut as Tevye's second daughter, Hodel, in Fiddler on the Roof. A Tony nomination and a Theatre World Award for her creation of Rizzo in the original Broadway production of Grease led her back to California and the role of Bea Arthur's daughter, Carol, in the hit series Maude.

Since then she has become a best selling author, a recording artist, and the star of numerous features, films for television, concert performances, musicals and plays.

Movie fans know her best for her performances in The Fog, Escape From New York, Creepshow, Swamp Thing, Back to School, and Cannonball Run. Her recent films include Reach for Me, with Seymour Cassell and Alfre Woodard and the award winning "zombie film" Alice Jacobs is Dead. She can currently be seen in Argo, directed by and starring Ben Affleck.

Adrienne has a Golden Globe nomination and over 450 screen performances to her credit. Drew Carey fans know her as Oswald's mom. She starred as Ruthie, the Snake Dancer, on HBO's fascinating series, Carnivale. Her recent appearances include Son's of Anarchy and Dexter and nine months on ABC's General Hospital, her first foray into daytime television. She also portray's Victoria Grayson's (Madeline Stowe) mother on ABC's hit series Revenge.

After appearing in over 25 musicals and plays, among them the West coast premieres of Women Behind Bars and Drop Dead; the Canadian premiere of Neil Simon's Lost in Yonkers; and the world premiere of What the Rabbi Saw by Billy Van Zandt and Jane Milmore, in 2006 she returned to New York to garner standing ovations as Judy Garland in The Property Known As Garland. Summer of 2012 found her returning to her favorite musical Fiddler on the Roof, playing Golde this time, not Hodel.

Off camera, Adrienne is the voice of Catwoman in Batman, The Animated Series, Ms. Simone in Scooby-Do on Zombie Island, and Scooter's Mom in the 3-D animated film Fly Me To The Moon. She can be heard in a myriad of video games: God of War and Halo 4 among them.

Adrienne is the author of three books: the best-selling memoir There Are Worse Things I Could Do; Vampyres of Hollywood; and the most recent Love Bites.

In March of 1997, Adrienne gave birth to identical twin boys, William and Walker Van Zandt, at age 51, "the only woman on the maternity ward who was a member of AARP." She lives in Los Angeles, but travels to Japan whenever she can to visit her older son, Cody Carpenter.

Connect with Adrienne:
Website |Amazon author page |

Buy the Book:
Amazon

Featured Author: Larissa Reinhart

Fans of Larissa Reinhart will be happy to know the third book in the Cherry Tucker cozy mystery series, Hijack in Abstract, is out. She's on tour with Buy the Book Tours, and she's stopping here today. Follow the tour and enter to win a $25 gift card from Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

About the book:

Humor, Hijackings and a Handful of Hunks . . .

With a classical series sold and a portrait commissioned, Cherry Tucker’s art career is in Georgia overdrive. But when the sheriff asks Cherry to draw a composite sketch of a hijacker, her life takes a hairpin as the composite leads to a related murder, her local card-sharking buddy Max Avtaikin becomes bear bait and her nemesis labels the classical series “pervert art.”

Cherry’s jamming gears between trailer parks, Atlanta mansions, and trucker bars searching for the hijacker who left a widow and orphan destitute. While she seeks to help the misfortunate and save her local reputation, Cherry’s hammer down attitude has her facing the headlights of an oncoming killer.

Interview with Larissa Reinhart:

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

Obviously, Cherry is always my first choice, but in Hijack in Abstract, I love the orphan, Jerell. He lives in a trailer park with his great grandma who’s dying of emphysema, and his father’s been murdered. But he’s more accepting of his life situation than Cherry. He’s a tough, little kid. I wish I could hug him, but he’d probably just push me off and tell me to get a grip.

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

In the Cherry Tucker series, she has her motley crew -- Luke Harper, her on & off flame; Todd, her sort-of-ex-husband; Max Avtaikin, the local, foreign racketeer; her sister and brother, Casey and Cody; Grandpa Ed and his girlfriend, Pearl; her uncle Will, the sheriff; Red, the bartender; and Leah, her best friend -- and of course, that list grows because it’s a small town and you run into some of the same characters. They come and go with the setting.

Then, I begin to build my new characters that specifically go with the new story. My antagonist is the most important. They have to have a backstory, even if I never reveal much of it in the story. And that antagonist will have a company of characters that go with him/her. My victims are also important, but sometimes they crop up as I write. And as I write, more characters, some helpful and some adversarial, will just pop into the story.

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

It’s kind of random. I’ve used obituaries (to keep the names Southern) and random name generators. Sometimes, the name pops into my head and sticks. Cherry Tucker did that. Occasionally, I’ll let my daughters name someone (Luke). And in my upcoming book, one of my Mystery Minions street team crew won a contest and her name’s used in the book. That was fun.

Are any of your characters inspired by real people?

Only one. Max Avtaikin. He was inspired by the rich Russian with the tiny giraffe on the DirectTV ad a few years ago. I love that guy.

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

Cherry’s best friend, Leah. She’s the epitome of grace and charity, always knows the proper thing to say, but is also a talented musician and singer. And she’s got a super hot body she hides under bulky clothes. I’d be strutting around in a bikini if I were Leah. Well, maybe not...

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

Max Avtaikin. He could probably charter us a helicopter for a rescue. There’s a few Max fans out there who probably wouldn’t mind getting stuck on an island with him for different reasons...

What song would you pick to go with your book?

That’s an awesome question! I always have a soundtrack. I listen to a lot of Miranda Lambert and Eric Church for the Cherry Tucker books. I’ll choose “Mama’s Broken Heart” by Miranda Lambert for Hijack in Abstract because Cherry’s suffering from a broken heart, having broken up with Luke Harper at the end of the previous book, Still Life in Brunswick Stew. But I also like “Lemon Drop” by the Pistol Annies because it’s about optimism when life is looking pretty negative. Cherry’s an optimist. And the fan of life has turned a pile of horsehockey on her since book one.

Where’s home for you?

I live in a planned community south of Atlanta called Peachtree City. It’s beautiful with parkways, trees, and about sixty miles of golf cart paths winding inside the city. It took some time for me to get used to seeing people walking their dog from a golf cart, but now I drive my girls to school on a golf cart. This area has become movie-filming central lately. The Walking Dead & Drop-Dead Divas are filmed nearby, and Pinewood Studios have moved in down the road. That’s kind of fun, although I never see anyone famous because I’m always at home in front of my computer. Or at Target.

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

Showers are awesome for plotting! So is driving. And that dream-infused state just before you fall asleep, although I sometimes forget what I was going to use and that’s frustrating.

What’s one of your favorite quotes?

I have trouble saying no, so this is my virtual sticky note quote on my computer: “Don’t write a check with your mouth you can’t cash with you a**.” It’s from Sucker Punch, which was a so-so movie, but I love that quote.

What three books have you read recently and would recommend?

Double Dip by Gretchen Archer (hilarious, especially if you’re a fan of Carl Hiaasen.) Small Town Spin by LynDee Walker (she’s awesome at fast paced dialogue). And Diner Impossible by Terri L. Austin (she is so funny and very talented with the romance scenes).

If you could take a trip anywhere in the world, where would you go? (Don’t worry about the money. Your publisher is paying.

We’re hoping to visit Japan this summer. My husband and I have lived there three times, the last time was three years ago with our children and they miss Japan. But since that trip is somewhat planned, I’m going to pick Spain. I’ve always wanted to travel to Spain ever since I read The Seville Communion.

What are you working on now?

I just finished Death in Perspective, the fourth Cherry Tucker mystery that comes out June 24th. Before I start number five, I’m working on a paranormal detective agency set in Japan, kind of an urban fantasy. The heroine is an English teacher in Japan with a  missing roommate, but she’s also hiding her own preternatural abilities. I’m having a lot of fun with the Japanese mythology.

About the author:

After teaching in the US and Japan, Larissa writes full time, with a particular focus on sassy female characters with a penchant for trouble. The Cherry Tucker Mystery series is published by Henery Press. The first in the series, Portrait of a Dead Guy (2012), is a 2012 Daphne du Maurier finalist, 2012 The Emily finalist, and 2011 Dixie Kane Memorial winner. Still Life in Brunswick Stew (2013), Hijack in Abstract (2013), and Death in Perspective (June 2014) follow, with the Cherry Tucker novella, Quick Stretch, in the 2013 anthology, Heartache Motel, as a prequel to Portrait.

She lives near Atlanta with her family and Cairn Terrier, Biscuit. Visit her website or find her chatting with the Little Read Hens on Facebook; at her Facebook page; Twitter; and Goodreads.




Connect with Larissa:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Publisher 

Buy the book:
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