Spring is an interesting season here. Supposedly, it starts March 21 or thereabouts and ends June 21 with the onset of summer. The truth is that it’s starts when it wants to and incorporates all four seasons in one. We have winter almost over, followed by winter might be over, followed by winter not over yet, and then we’re plunged into this might be spring, followed by OMG it’s summer, then what happened to spring? and finally this is it, spring I think.
Last week we were in OMG, this is summer, not that I complained. It was nice to see the sunshine and feel the heat after the long winter we’ve had, but I got a vivid reminder of the dangers of spring and our other temperamental season, fall, this week when I went to see my mother the other day. We live in an area with a lot of moose and deer. The signs for deer crossings and moose crossings or deer danger and moose danger ae everywhere. Sadly, the deer and moose can’t read, so they don’t always cross the highway where one expects them to.
As I was driving along the highway, I came across the remnants of several raccoon that didn’t make it as well as the large sploshes on the road indicating the demise of a deer. I saw one on the side of the road, its head crushed, but what kept me on alert was seeing the doe standing on the side of the road as if waiting to cross. Usually, I don’t see them mid-morning like I did. They tend to come out of the bush at twilight or during the early evening hours, occasionally in the early morning, but mid-morning? Heavy traffic? And yet, there she was. Keep an eye out for them, please. Hitting an animal can do a lot of damage to both it and you.
In my novel, Trouble with Eden, an unexpected encounter with a moose derails all of my heroes plans. Read the free preview to learn more.
Hope you have a wonderful day and a great weekend.
Welcome back. We’re on a three-day roll of absolutely awesome weather here, although it will all come to an end on Monday, and we’ll be plunged back into regular spring, complete with April showers and single digit temperatures. In some ways, I don’t mind it, since it does make it easier to sit at the computer and work.
Today, we are at the mid-point in the challenge with the letter M. For my Did You Know? this morning I’m going to talk about memories and motivation. What motivated me to write, and how do memories come into it?
When I first started my career as an author, my motivation was actually quite simple. I was bored. I’d retired from education after 35 years in the classroom, most of it spent as a secondary school English teacher. My days had been full, many of my evenings too, with marking and lesson planning. I’d spent weekends doing laundry and housework, and suddenly I had long empty days ahead of me. Since my husband wasn’t retired and had no plans to do so, I couldn’t even travel.
Cooking really isn’t my thing, I tried crafts. I did some scrapbooking, but the arthritis in my hands made it hard to use scissors properly. I could only do so much housework, especially with my knees, hips, and wrists getting so much worse. I spent my afternoons reading or reading Facebook posts.
One day, I happened upon a post from Harlequin, a chat room where unpublished authors could post their writing each week. I found that the editor of one of their lines was running a contest, looking for new authors. Since writing a book had always been one of those bucket list items, one I never expected to tick off the list, I figured, why not? I had a computer … wasn’t that really all it took? After all, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t tried and failed before.
Long story short, I wrote the book, didn’t win the contest but made some incredible friends that I still have today. Those friends encouraged me to submit my book to a pitch fest. I did and got a request from another editor for the book. The novel was Fire Angel, and the publisher was Crimson Romance. After copious editing that changed a significant portion of the book, they published it. From them, I learned the importance of POV, the need to avoid head hopping, the importance of a well-thought out plot, without holes, the need for a strong vocabulary, without repetition, the difference between my English spelling and word use, which as a Canadian differs from that of my American readers, and how to write a synopsis. I also learned to forget my vision of the story and accept theirs because as a publisher, they knew best, right?
Over the next three years, I wrote more books for them, as well as for four other small publishing houses. Sadly, this is where the memories come in and where I learned a valuable lesson as an author. Publishers don’t give a damn about you. You are only a means to make money for them, and the more they can make the better. So, when Crimson decided to sell to a bigger company, all of its authors got the shaft. The new company wasn’t interested in us. They simply wanted to eliminate the competition, which they did within two years. The other small houses I wrote for didn’t make it. For a couple, the competition was too stiff, for a couple more, it was a case of take the money and run, screw the authors in the process.
Rather than quit, my motivation switched to “prove you have what it takes to be a successful author.” I opted to get back all of my rights to my books–some took longer than others– and then, wiser in the ways of the world, I decided to look into self-publishing. During my early years, I’d made friends with other authors who’d also been shafted by the publishers. They helped me learn to format my work, designed covers for me, and encouraged me to continue writing. I began the long journey toward re-establishing myself as a writer. It hasn’t been without tears, but I’m slowly climbing out of obscurity and getting noticed.
When I got my rights back, the first thing I did was got back into the books and edit them. On My Watch had been a good seller for me as had most of the Romance Suspense novels I’d sold through Crimson. It required very little editing, so it got a shiny new cover, one that spoke to the story, and was released on my own through Amazon, making it eligible for Kindle Unlimited.
Here’s the blurb.
A helpless victim with amnesia. A jaded FBI agent sworn to protect her. A killer for hire out for blood.
After an incident that leaves him questioning his worth as an FBI Special Agent, Jason Spark fills in for his brother at the local sheriff’s office. He’s sent to check out an odd 9 1 1 call, unwittingly stepping into a horrifying bloodbath straight out of a Hollywood slasher movie, complete with cryptic clues scrawled on the wall. The investigation turns up one suspect: The Butcher, an elusive killer for hire linked to the Sicilian mob. What can the mob want with a doctor and his family? The answers lie with the wife, clinging to life. When survivor Nikki Hart awakens, her memory is a blank slate. She doesn’t know her name, can’t recall anything about herself, or what happened to her. Even her young daughter is a stranger. Terrified, she clings to the memory of the angel who comforted her in her darkest moments. Was he real or just a figment of her imagination? As the news of Nikki’s recovery spreads, Jason fears they’ve put her in the ruthless killer’s sights once more. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect her and her daughter, the family he wishes were his. In protective custody, love grows, but danger lingers. The assassin won’t quit until he fulfills the contract. When Nikki learns the truth about the worst night of her life, she’s horrified. Will she make the right decision or put herself and her daughter in danger once more?
Read the free preview for more.
Now, what motivates me? It’s wanting to share the products of my imagination with others. It’s hearing from readers how much they enjoy my books, reading reviews, and most of all, it’s knowing that I may have brightened someone’s day.
Welcome back. We’re flirting with summer here, with temperatures expected in the low 70’s F. It won’t last, but it’s nice while it’s here. I hope the truly nasty weather everyone experienced at the end of March and the beginning of April is well and truly gone.
Today is dedicated to the letter L which stands for love. There are several different kinds of love. Love of country which we call patriotism, love for our neighbors and those around us, which is Agape love, familial love which includes our family–parents, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles. and romantic love which is the one that draws us to a specific person, the one we want to spend the rest of our lives with, raise families together, and includes erotic love, which is more than sex for the sake of sex.
As a romance writer, love is my bread and butter. It’s the one element embedded in every one of my novels, regardless of sub-genre. While I don’t devote a great deal of my writing to sex, I’ll include it IF it is necessary to the story and moves the plot along. I’m a prude. I’ll say it front and center, so I have trouble with strangers meeting and jumping right into bed. I need some emotional foreplay before I can get to that scene. Sex for the sake of sex just doesn’t do it for me.
I’ve written a number of books that have dealt with familiar love, where children or brothers and sisters are an element of the greater love story. For example, in His Christmas Family a single mother puts it all on the line for her children. Here’s the blurb.
Since losing his wife, children, and parents six years ago to a drunk driver, Lee Ostler stopped celebrating the holidays, especially Christmas. But he isn’t a modern-day Scrooge by any means. Because his parents would’ve wanted it, he does his duty by his employees at Ostler Construction, the Payton Falls community, and his sister and her family, but that’s it. When Sonia has to leave the country for a few weeks before Christmas, she begs him to watch the twins for her. Even if it means, parades, pageants, and fairs, how can he refuse? But things get complicated when the twins accidentally injure one of his employees, who turns out to be the shy girl he admired years ago in high school. Life has dealt Jennifer Wilson a lot of blows, but this year, the widowed mother of four has hit rock bottom. How will she give her children a magical Christmas when the cupboard’s bare, her wallet’s empty, she can’t work, and may well lose the roof over their heads? She needs a miracle, and if he happens to be her boss and the former high school quarterback, she was too terrified to even speak to back then, how can she say no? Can Christmas magic bring two broken souls together?
In Forever in my Heart, I deal with the pain of a child growing up feeling unloved as well as the devastation that comes when siblings lose one of their own. Here’s that blurb.
All Callista Hayworth has ever wanted was to be loved. Callie’s heart was crushed six years ago when she walked in on her twin sister in the arms of her fiancé. She fled Timberton and cut all ties with the last member of her family. She’s rebuilt her life, but some things can never be fixed. When she learns of the tragic accident that has orphaned her infant nieces, she sets aside her anger and returns to the scene of her greatest heartache. What she doesn’t expect is her reaction to the twins’ uncle and his proposition. Michael Branscomb swore off women years ago, after the woman he loved left him for his best friend. A deathbed promise to his twin brother has to be honored. The last thing the confirmed bachelor wants or needs is a wife and children, but you don’t always get what you want. He’ll do almost anything for his twin, but can he marry a stranger? When he meets Callie, commonsense goes out the window, and he proposes a marriage of convenience, offering each of them an end to loneliness and a promise at the future they want. Will the spirit of Christmas convince Callie to give him a chance, especially when there’s a Grinch in the works determined to see the past repeat itself?
I have a series of books dedicated specifically to romantic love. My All for Love series. Falling in love isn’t always easy, and for the couples in these books, the road to happiness is often complicated and filled with misunderstanding that can last days, weeks, months, years, or even decades. But in the end, love triumphs.
Good morning. Here we are again, nearly halfway through the challenge for this year. Mother Nature seems to have gotten the memo, and after dumping that nasty ice storm on us last week, we can expect sunshine and 60 F this afternoon. Too early to work in the yard, but I can see time outside later today for me.
Today, we pay homage to the letter K and to do that, I’m going to talk about Kindle Unlimited. Rather than repeat everything I know about KU, I’ll provide you with this link that covers every possible aspect of the topic. https://forevershereads.com/guide-to-kindle-unlimited
As a reader, KU is a great way to read a lot of books for a low price since you can have up to 20 books in your bookcase. As a writer, it’s a great way to not only get your books in front of a reading audience, but to get paid for your hard work. KU pays me less than a cent per page read, but when the book is 300 pages long, that adds up. In many cases it’s far preferable to having someone read the e-book and then return it for a full refund, leaving me with zip.
The disadvantage to Kindle Unlimited is that the author has to be exclusive to Amazon, which means readers must download an app if they aren;t using a Kindle, but the app is free, and since lots of people read on their phones as well as on tablets and e-readers, that really isn’t an issue. While I do publish my books in print, I don’t sell from a brick-and-mortar bookstore, but all of my print books are also available on Amazon.
If you are a voracious reader and you travel, by now you’ve realized how inconvenient it is to take paperbacks with you. Having to pay for your luggage, especially when it’s overweight isn’t any fun. If you have Kindle Unlimited, you can download a bunch of books prior to your departure and there they are, weightless, but just as engrossing–just don’t forget to bring your cable to rechange your phone or tablet.
As a writer, I can put a book up for pre-sale on KU before it’s finished. That KU deadline for completion becomes my Holy Grail. It’s the goal I strive for each day, needing so many thousand words to finish on time. KU also gives me the option of making changes to the keywords, book description, even the content without any additional expenditure on my part. If I decide the book needs a new cover, once I have one, I can change that, too.
On average, more than half my income each month comes from KU. It’s the main reason I choose to publish through Amazon. At the moment, I have 42 books available on KU and 2 books on pre-order. I’m not getting rich–few independent authors do these days, but the more people find my work and read it, come back for other books, then, the happier I am. Here’s my Amazon profile that includes not only my books, but those published with the ABB. https://www.amazon.com/stores/Susanne-Matthews/author/B00DJCKRP4
I can see your frown and hear you ask, what does juggling have to do with being an author? In my case, everything.
As a fulltime author, I try to write every day, and that involves a great deal of time and responsibility juggling. As much as I might like to hide myself away in my office, put on my headset, and forget everything else, I can’t. I have responsibilities that take up a great deal of time.
The first one is my responsibility toward my husband. We’ve been married 51 years, so he’s a keeper, but he does need to be fed, have his clothes laundered, and counts on my company every now and then. Since he works out of our home, occasionally I get to play receptionist, too.
I have family obligations that could include attending events for my grandchildren, although only four of them live in the same city that I do, but there are sports events, medical appointments, a school pickup or drop-off that require Grandma’s assistance. Neither of my sons live in the city, but they do come home for visits and when that happens, my time is needed with them, too.
My mother is 95 and living in a nursing home which I visit two mornings a week. I’m fortunate that while she lives in a delusional world of her own, she still knows me. There are days when she isn’t good and that makes it almost impossible to focus on work when I get home. But she’s still with me, so that’s a good thing.
And then there are other things like appointments, shopping for groceries, cleaning the house, meals with friends, that also cut into my writing time. And add to that the weather. The false summer weather expected this week will make it even harder to work than ice and snow.
Then, there is juggling in writing the book itself, editing, it, meeting the deadlines and submitting it, promoting it, although truth be told, promotion is my weak spot. As a rule, I try to write one book at a time. That way, I can stay focused on one story, but I know other authors who have several works on the go at once and that must take a considerable amount of juggling!
In my novel, Make Mine a Manhattan, my heroine has a lot of juggling to do, too. Check out the preview!
Today’s post is about imagery. Imagery is a figure of speech, used by authors essentially to draw pictures with words and allow the reader to imagine what the characters see or feel. It engages the senses–see, hear, smell, taste and touch–to deepen the reader’s comprehension of what’s happening and how they should respond to it.
Not sure exactly what imagery entails, check out this website. SmartBlogger
As an English teacher for more than thirty years, I have a strong appreciation for descriptions and using literary devises helps me convey the way my characters feel, what they see, hear, smell, taste, and touch. I use similes, metaphors, onomatopoeia, and yes, the dreaded cliches in my work. Below is the prologue to one of my books. See how many images you can find.
I have a paranormal suspense series called The Punishers.
There are two worlds in New Orleans, the mortal realm and the underworld populated by immortals, the undead, and other preternatural characters. The detectives of NOPD’s Paranormal Investigative Squad follow up on crimes involving the underworld, and when those crimes spill over into the mortal one, look out!
Paranormal/fantasy
Book One, The Tigress starts with a prologue about the main character.
My name is Ellie Taggart, at least it is now. Over the last thousand or so years, I’ve had many names—too many to count, too many to remember—but this will be the last one I’ll need. Times have changed. Evil doesn’t hide in dark corners. It lives in the light. This world we live in is filled with more monsters than humans realize, more than one being can deal with in a lifetime, even if that lifetime does span centuries.
I’m tired. I would like to fall in love, have children, grow old, and spend the last of my days quietly sipping tea on a porch swing, surrounded by purring cats, not battling the forces of evil. But that’s not going to happen. It can’t. I’m the last of my line—maybe even the last of my kind—and that’s how it has to be.
If you saw me on the street, you might not notice me, but if you did, you would see a thirty-something woman with the golden skin and deep brown hair of her Asian ancestors. If you really looked at me, you might note my pert nose, wide mouth, pouty lips, and unusual almond-shaped eyes. What you wouldn’t see is who I am—what I am.
I was born deep in the jungles of the Indian Subcontinent, at the base of the Himalayan Mountains, during a time when few kept track of dates the way they do today. My father was a Royal Bengal tiger, the largest and most majestic of his kind, while my mother was a rare and unusual rakshasa. Don’t recognize the word? Not too surprising. So many people have forsaken the religion of their ancestors to swear allegiance to greed and corruption, the very thing that gives evil its power.
Even those who know what a rakshasa is don’t believe we exist anymore, and other than me, they’re correct. We are the shapeshifters found in Hindu, Buddhist, and countless other mythologies. We’re also known as “Maneaters”—not that I’ve ever indulged. Give me chicken or fish any day.
People have always been afraid of what they don’t understand, and shapeshifters of any kind certainly fall into that category. In truth, in human form, my mother was petite, delicate, and so very beautiful, with black hair, bronze skin, and almond-shaped amber eyes—my eyes now, orbs I hide behind tinted lenses.
Sadly, like witches with warts and hooked noses, rakshasa was depicted as a huge, ugly creature with fangs and long, sharp, claw-like fingernails. They were considered cruel, growling beasts with insatiable appetites for human flesh. I’ve seen them portrayed with flaming red eyes and hair, drinking blood with their palms or from a human skull, a lot like the less than fair representations of vampires. Most of those I know these days aren’t a bit like that. They sip wine in crystal goblets and get their blood online from specialty stores.
Can I fly? No, but my mother could. She could assume the shape of any creature, even the fearsome yeti, but for lack of a better term, I’m a half-breed, with sorely limited skills. While I have superhuman strength, I can’t vanish, but I’ve learned to be an expert at camouflage. I have some telepathic ability, which makes it easy to make people forget what they saw, or imagine they witnessed something else. Afterall, who really believes in the creatures of the night? It’s the stuff of television programs, movies, and books. But the legends are real—too real. Am I immortal? No, I’m not a god or a demi-god, but my lifespan is impressive, and like my mother who died at Draug’s hand, killing me takes a lot of work.
I lived deep in the jungle until my father passed on, and then mother moved us up the mountain to a safer place. There she taught me to survive and guided me through my first changes. Unlike the shapeshifters controlled by the moon’s power, I can shift whenever I need to, and while in that form, heal and recover from whatever damages have been inflicted on me. When I reached my maturity, many years older than I appear, she told me that if anything were to happen to her, I needed to seek the Chou-Lan Monastery in the hidden valley. There the monks would tutor me and teach me how to use my powers.
Life was pleasant, uneventful, until that fateful day when Draug and his revenant found us. Unlearned in the art of battle, unable to defend myself, I did as Mother requested, I shifted into my tigress form, ran, and hid.
The sounds of clashing swords and tearing flesh were horrific. Four against one. In the heat of the battle, no one thinks clearly, but in the end, it was my mother’s headless body that lay upon the field. Draug’s angry cries at the loss of his prize, killed by his own hand, split the silence. That night, I vowed to avenge her, but it was centuries before I understood the real reason for his agonized screams, and that while she’d died, she’d won the battle. When the monsters had gone, I crept from my hiding place. There was nothing left for me there. Mourning, the pain so deep it made it hard for me to retain any shape, I searched for Mother’s head, but it was gone. Claimed as a trophy? Proof that he’d killed her? To this day, I don’t know. With grief ripping me apart, I built a pyre and cremated what was left of her the way she had my father. The mountains no longer held any appeal for me.
Leaving our sanctuary, I made my way into the hidden valley and searched until I found the monks she’d spoken of. Shifting into human form, I told my story. Decade after decade, century after century, I lived hidden among the holy men where I studied, practiced the arts I would need to survive, and learned of the responsibilities I carried as one of the punishers, beings born of the light whose sacred duty is to fight the forces of darkness and defend those unable to protect themselves. When the time came, I said farewell to the last of those who’d become family to me and headed into the world to fulfil my destiny as the scourge of evil.
Since then, I’ve roamed the earth and watched century after century as the powers of darkness have grown, turning the innocent into monsters almost as evil and corrupt as they are. Not all of the non-humans and undead dwelling amongst humanity are evil, just as not every human is good, but in the last century, those who foster hate and greed, jealousy and envy, and the rest of the deadly sins, have grown more powerful, more daring.
When my enemies crossed the line, I found them and dealt with them. I’ve wiped the minds of witches, wizards, and warlocks who dared practice the dark art and turned their empty shells over to their authorities. I’ve dealt with the undead and shapeshifters myself, battling those who posed a danger to humanity, consigning their unholy remains to oblivion. With each battle, I’ve learned and grown stronger, for power comes from knowledge. But I still have much to learn before I can face Draug.
I serve the light, going where darkness dwells, watching it insinuate itself more completely into modern society each year. It needs to be stopped—but I’m just one.
Draug doesn’t know I exist, but I know him. I remember the sight and smell of him, and one day, we’ll meet on the field of battle. It’ll be a fight to the death, one I’ll fight in my true form—my father’s form. But until then, protecting humanity from those who would use and abuse them for evil purposes is my mission. Who am I, you ask? I’m the Tigress.
Welcome to Tuesday Tales, the weekly blog that gives you a peek into what a select group of authors are currently writing. This week, we have a picture prompt, and our scenes are limited to 300 words. I’m continuing with Finding Melinda, my contemporary romance suspense. Here’s the picture I chose:
A set of homemade delicious burgers of beef, bacon, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes on a dark concrete background. Fat unhealthy food close-up
Melinda raised her eyebrows. “Seriously? A second ago, you wanted to adopt him. Now, you’re postulating that he might be some kind of master criminal. I’ve heard of bifurcated reasoning but make up your mind.”
“Bifur what?” Danny cocked his head.
She chuckled. “Bifurcated. It’s today’s word of the day and means diverged or divided, like two choices. Relax, Baby Bro. When have you ever known me to go off half-cocked? If anything, you’re always accusing me of being too cautious. I thought I had a wild imagination, but that little rant of yours proves otherwise. Maybe you should take up writing, too. For the record, I’ve replied that my adoption was done through the May-Swift Agency as well, and that my C L B does resemble his, so the probability that we are more than regular siblings is a strong one. I also asked for his last name and a little information about himself. After I get more info, I can do an Internet search, check his social footprint, and learn a little more about him before I decide what to do next. If I find anything suspicious, I promise to back away. Maybe he could come to Ottawa to meet us instead. Then, you would be there to protect me.”
Somewhat mollified, Danny shoved the last of his burger into his mouth, stood, and gathered the empty beer cans.
“I’m only trying to look out for you,” he defended his words, “But having him come to you might work—but you can’t let him stay with you. He’ll need to stay in a hotel, and while he’s there, I’ll camp out in your spare room. Who wants another? I know, water for you, Mamma, with or without ice?”
That’s it. Stay safe, and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
Good morning. I trust you all had a wonderful weekend. As we start the second week of the blog challenge. It seems as if Mother Nature will cut us some slack this week with warmth and sunshine in the forecast, something I know I can certainly use.
Today’s letter is H, and I’m going to talk a bit about the obvious, heroes and heroines. I prefer to create what I consider human characters, the ones with imperfections and insecurities, some with physical disabilities, others with emotional ones. Why? Because humans aren’t perfect. They make mistakes and errors in judgement like everyone else. In short, in their search to find that perfect love, their soulmate, they’ll react to the situations around them and to the circumstances that they are dealing with, sometimes misunderstanding and misinterpreting what their opposite has said and done, often jumping to the wrong conclusion. That usually leads to conflict and then the resolution we need.
Let’s start with the typical male hero. Let’s face it. Readers don’t want to read a romance about someone living paycheck to paycheck, never getting anywhere. For too many, that’s their reality. Reading a romance is supposed to carry them off for a few hours of entertainment.
So, our hero will usually be rich, handsome, and available. He’ll be kind and caring, a skilled lover, although I rarely have many sex scenes in my books. That particular act is one I tend to keep behind closed doors. But, my hero will also be insecure about something, and that something will affect how he interacts and responds to the heroine. Perhaps he’s afraid that his money or his title will define him in the eyes of the women in his life. Maybe he’s been injured, or disfigured some way. Perhaps he has a secret that once revealed will change the way others see him. Whatever it is, he’s vulnerable, and it’s baring that vulnerability that endears him to the reader.
The same can be said about the heroine. She will be attractive, sometimes rich, most often not, and she will be dealing with something that only the hero can help her accomplish. Perhaps it will be a overbearing parent, traditions and responsibilities she can’t shirk, or even the fear of attracting other by what she is rather than who she is. Most often, she’ll have secrets, too and a difficult challenge to overcome. It could be solving a murder, lifting a curse, finding the truth, discovering her past … the possibilities are endless, but while she may be a damsel in distress, she won’t be a wimp about it. She’ll play the hand she’s dealt and hope for the best.
Today is the official release day for my novel, The Regal Rose.
Here’s the blurb.
She’s a princess in distress. He’s her knight in shining armor. Can he rescue her once more? Ten years ago, Princess Anna-Rose fell in love with Trucker, a long-haired, bearded American student backpacking through Europe. Her mother’s sudden illness forced her to leave him without saying goodbye or revealing the truth about her identity. All she has is a dried rose and an emptiness in her heart to prove their relationship ever happened. When her father insists that she choose a husband, she threatens to leave the royal family. Her brother comes to her aid. She has one shot at finding her lost lover. If she fails, she has to select one of the suitors presented to her and wed before the year is out. With the clock ticking, Anna goes to the United States hoping to find Abbot’s Cove and the man she loves. Bryce Bannon, Trucker to his old friends, is the owner, president, and CEO of Bannon Enterprises, a multi-million-dollar, international logistics company. He’s content to control his empire from a distance and maintain the anonymity he gets living on his stud farm along Lake Erie where he raises thoroughbreds and roses. When a snowstorm hits, he goes out to check on his animals and hears a horn wailing in the distance. Despite his aversion to strangers, he can’t let someone freeze to death. Something about the woman he rescues is familiar, but when he recognizes his Rosie, he’s elated—until he discovers her true identity and questions her reason for being there. Will they rekindle the love they had, or will duty pull them apart once more?
Writing this novel was enjoyable as was creating the two slightly dysfunctional main characters. I was able to use some of my personal experience with severe winter weather to show her determination to get to the truth. Creating characters, especially believable heroes and heroines, those the readers can identify and empathize with, is one of the toughest parts of writing any genre, but especially romance where connecting one with the other is the key element of the plot.
The Regal Rose is available in e-book format from all Amazon dealers and is free to read in Kindle Unlimited. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BSB6QBC2
In 2020, when Easter came around, we were all stuck inside our own little bubbles as people were told not to socialize with others. My daughter and grandkids surprised us with bunny beers, cars, and handmade decorations. I kept the empty cans as a reminder that there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
It’s been a few difficult years and the virus may no longer be as deadly as it was, but it isn’t gone, as those who’ve been unlucky enough to get sick know. Thanks to the extraordinary efforts of researchers, we have a vaccine, one that has prevented me from getting deathly ill.
This year, we’ll be having a traditional Easter dinner with Greek salad, roasted leg of lamb, Greek potatoes, peas, carrots, dinner rolls, and desserts. I look forward to being together as a family and wish you all a good Sunday whether you celebrate the feast or not.
Good morning. Well, the sun is shining, and it looks to be a good day. Not too warm, but it isn’t cold either, and there’s no snow or ice, so I’ll take the win.
This morning, I’m solidly back in a Did You Know? based on my writing. Today, I’m dealing with the letter G. The topic I’ve chosen to discuss is genre and subgenre.
Essentially, a genre is a particular type of literature, painting, music, film, or other art form which people consider as a class because it has special characteristics. In writing, a genre is made up of four parts: character, story, plot, and setting.
When it comes to the romance genre, the novel’s primary focus should be on the relationship and romantic love between two people, and end in an emotionally satisfying and optimistic way, the happily ever after. There should be obstacles tossed in the way before the characters can reach their resolution. Is there a perfect formula that works every time? If there is, I haven’t found it yet, but I’ll keep searching. Readers all have different needs and what may appeal to one, won’t appeal to another.
Before I started my journey as an author, I’d devoured thousands of books over the years. I knew what I enjoyed–and what I didn’t–so, when I decided to try my hand at it, I started with romance/suspense. I liked juggling more than just romance in a story, and the idea of a truly evil someone in the background doing unspeakable things that are actually far too common these days appealed to me. After all, those were the types of television shows and movies I enjoyed.
Since I began my career, I’ve branched out, expanded my repertoire if you like, and I’ve written novels in several subgenres. This can be both good and bad since I’ve opted to write all of my books using the same pen name. I know many authors who write different subgenres under different names so that their fan base knows exactly what the next book will bring. Should I have done that? I don’t know, but it’s too late to change now.
Other than regular romance, I’ve chosen to write in the following subgenres: romantic suspense, romantic thrillers, historical romance, paranormal romance, paranormal suspense, psychic romance, romantic comedy, holiday themed romance, women’s fiction, Y A romance suspense, and I even have on Christian romance suspense out there. But no matter the subgenre, all the stories have happy endings and good always triumphs over evil. Hey, I’m an optimist.
So, how do I decide what to write next? The genre or subgenre I’ll use with depend on my mood, my inspiration, and what subgenre is needed for the writing group I’m involved with. The Authors Billboard provides a wide range of romance novels in almost every subgenre. They carry book bundles as low as 99 cents USD, free books, audiobooks, and many other perks for both authors and readers. Check them out for yourselves. https://authorsbillboard.com/ The daily blog posts cover a wide variety of topics, and the weekly newsletter each Friday is filled with good deals. Best of all the advertising platform is available and open to all authors.
When I was down in the Caribbean on a cruise, I toured a number of islands and was fascinated by the history and the skeletal remnants of their difficult pasts, no matter which country chose to enslave and colonize them. After I returned, I wrote Twist of Fate.
Here’s the blurb:
Can a cursed treasure unite two lonely outcasts?
Overton Stafford, shunned by his family because of a birthmark on his face, made a life for himself as Second Mate on The Golden Fleece. In a battle with pirates, Overton loses his left arm, ending his career. Knowing he will be a wealthy man makes the pain easier to bear, especially when he discovers he can repay a moral debt and help an old friend. When he meets Anna, Overton realizes he wants more from her than a financial partnership.
Anneliese Van Stubel lost her sight at nine as a result of Smallpox. Now eighteen, a ward of the crown because of the Danish Age of Majority law, she lives in limbo, uncertain what will happen to her. When Overton approaches her with the proposition to help her rebuild the plantation, she’s excited with the idea of returning to her home. But her joy fades when her caregiver makes it plain that he has a different future in mind for her, one that will profit him.
Set in a time when brutality against women and slaves was the norm, Overton seeks to change things as he falls in love with the girl who has lost so much. Check out the free preview.
Living the Dream 