Evelyn Cullet

This week  I’m excited to host talented author and columnist,

Paula Hrbacek

 Paula Hrbacek has a BJ in magazines and an BA in art from the University of Missouri, and certification on both elementary education and after school care in the state of Florida. She and her husband have four children, and are active in Boy Scouts and other youth programs.

She writes two columns for The Examiner, a free online newspaper. Her arts and crafts column, http://www.examiner.com/childrens-arts-and-crafts-1-in-panama-city/paula-hrbacek has local events for children, crafts for youth groups, after school care and summer camp, as well as art lessons and beginning crafts. Her book review column, http://www.examiner.com/book-review-8-in-panama-city/paula-hrbacek, features books for women and self published authors. Click on the subscribe button at the bottom of the page, and follow her articles for free.

Paula has published four trade paperbacks and a long list of magazine articles in publications such as Highlights, Flower and Garden, Modern Romances, Family Fun, Scouting, Instructor, Am. Scouting Digest, and others. She has several lesson plans for art posted on The Lesson Plan Page.

How do you solve a problem? Where do you find the answer? That’s what the three main characters of Stars Shine After Dark must discover. Each of them has a problem: an unfulfilled dream, a love triangle, impending divorce, a lack of love. Each of them finds the inspiration, the guidance, to solve the problem, but from different sources, in different places, at different times in their lives. Yet, the answers they find are all good. The answer is love.

Stars Shine After Dark Excerpt:

“No, Ron,” she said with emphasis.  “It won’t work. Not another, movie, not now, anyway.”   Mona Poole tossed her head of raven black hair, placed her delicate hands on her slim waist, and gave her agent that look that said she was all business now.  There were times when Ron’s advice had been helpful to her career, but those times were over.

   ”But, Mona…” the middle-aged man raised his hands helplessly at his sides.

   Mona knew he had as much chance of changing her mind as he did of saving his thinning hair.  He had often sat in Mona’s living room like this, he had often come with news of an acting job, but he was not accustomed to this kind of treatment.  Mona usually followed his leads and advice.  This time she wouldn’t.  It was a different character, a different attitude, than usual, but it was time for a change.

Mona knew today was different in many ways.  Her parents weren’t here, for one, and she was speaking for herself, and standing up for what she really wanted.  Mona was not used to doing that.  This wasn’t the first time that producers and directors had asked her to do something that wasn’t in her best interest.  Usually, it was Ron or her parents that made the choices.

They all agreed on what was and was not suitable for her to do.  Her parents were conservative.  They believed that her reputation, her image, was more important than making millions of dollars doing something “crude”. They all agreed that someday Mona’s career would end, and then all she would have left was her name, her reputation, and her memories.  They all agreed that any choice should protect these things, not sacrifice them for the sake of a buck.

Review

inthelibraryreviews.net/archives.html

The characters all have a strong moral foundation and want to do what’s right in the eyes of God. Readers who enjoy a pleasant story focusing on love and commitment.
–In the Library Reviews

When I wrote this book, I was upset about two different issues.  A dear friend was getting a divorce, and I felt that if I couldn’t give her a happy ending in real life, I could give her one in fiction.  the last thing you want to say to a friend is “I know what you should do!”, so I took those emotions and feelings and poured them out onto a page.  It was my hope that maybe someone else would be able to find the courage to see it through, rely on their faith, and find a way to stay together.
The second issue that bothered me was a bunch of unfounded rumors that were going around.  They twisted the truth to make the story appear to be something that it wasn’t.  I wanted to show the difference between the truth and a rumor so that the reader would stop and consider both sides of the story the next time a rumor started up in their own lives.  Rumors can ruin a person’s career.  I wish there were less of them.
There have been several people who said just what I needed to hear at just the moment I needed to hear it.  I am hoping to repay that kindness by doing the same thing for someone else.

Stars Shine After Dark, a sweet Christian romance, available in paperback, Kindle and Nook.

Day Camp in Hawaii, a complete program guide for summer camp or summer school, available in paperback, Nook and Kindle.  For more information seehttp://paulahrbacek.weebly.com or my author page at https://www.amazon.com/author/paulahrbacek

Please subscribe to The Examiner, a free online newspaper, and get email updates on my columns; Children’s Arts and Crafts, and Book Reviews.

Paula and I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment.

                 This week I’m hosting author Gloria Taylor Weinberg.

Gloria Taylor Weinberg is a fourth-generation Floridian who retired from the Fort Pierce Tribune in 2001 after twenty-two years as a journalist. She received numerous awards from the Florida Press Association and the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors for her columns, features and explanatory reports, including the 2000 Gold Medal for Public Service. She now works as a freelance writer for Indian River Magazine and its subsidiaries. Weinberg also paints, with a special love for capturing the flora, fauna and unique light of her native state on canvas. She has three grown children and seven grandchildren, and lives with her husband, Mark, and Dudley, their spoiled cocker spaniel, in Fort Pierce, Florida. A Homicide in Hooker’s Point, he first novel, earned a 2011 Royal Palm Literary Award from the Florida Writers Association.

Gloria’s debut novel delves into the human condition. With attention to each poignant detail, Gloria orchestrates a startlingly real web of characters that will, for a long time endure in the minds of its readers.

A Homicide in Hooker’s Point

In the fall of 1950, eight-year-old Vicki Leigh Bayle learns that prejudice is not always about color, and that truth, as adults define it, is malleable. She learns that love and hate are drawn from the same well, and that some of the people she loves most keep stores of each in equal measure.

The day after neighbor Eric Magruder kills her kitten during a domestic dispute, Vicki and her father watch as Eric is gunned down in their front yard. Witnesses say he was killed by his father-in-law. But is that really what happened during that tragic weekend of violence? At lease one investigator has doubts. Both Vicki and her father had access to a gun that day, and her father refuses to produce it. Why?

Set in the segregated context of South Florida, A Homicide in Hooker’s Point is an emotionally raw work that delineates the blurry yet familiar line between truth and deceit. In the debut novel of impeccably direct language, Weinberg has seamlessly crafted a tale that readers, will, without a doubt, hate and love by turns–a tale where the grim and the poignant intertwine.

—”A Homicide in Hooker’s Point is a fascinating tale of innocence and pathos colliding in a small community in rural South Florida. The story develops inexorably; building momentum as it evolves, all the while tempting the reader to linger over passages of lush, evocative imagery. I was struck by the author’s insightful portrayal of people and places, which brought back fond memories of the simple, authentic life experiences that I had growing up in Clewiston near Hooker’s Point.”  –Erik C. Larson, Attorney, Winter Park, Fla.

A Homicide in Hooker’s Point is available at Amazon. com.

Gloria now has a new novella titled “Child of Sorrow,” available on Amazon.com.http://www.amazon.com/dp/0615819109/ref=rdr_ext_tmb

Child of Sorrow cover June 2

“Child of Sorrow” is superb. I highly recommend you read this story.”

– Gayle H. Swift, Co-founder of GIFT (Growing Intentional Families Together) and award-winning author of ABC, Adoption Me and That Baby We Borrowed.

“Based on a true story, this gut-wrenching novella pulses with the drumbeat of emotional legitimacy. When a teenager finds herself pregnant, her family reacts with shame and judgment instead of compassion. Vicki is bustled away to a home for unwed mothers to bear her baby in secret. She endures her pregnancy emotionally isolated, without friends or family. Vicki harbors the hope her parents will relent and allow her to keep her child. But societal forces collude to make that impossible and she is forced to surrender him.

“Child of Sorrow is a universal story of family confronting a teenager’s unplanned pregnancy. No one is unscathed by the experience made even more difficult by the expectation that both Vicki and her baby will proceed as if the other never existed. But Vicki sustains an eternal flame of memory that propels her to reconnect with her adult child.

“Child of Sorrow deals with a highly charged issue. How many of us may not realize that our mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends may be birthmothers?”

Gloria and I would love to hear from you so please feel free to leave a comment.

This week, I’m hosting romance novelist, Marie Lavender.

Marie Lavender lives in the Midwest with her family and three cats.  She has been writing for over twenty years.  She has more works in progress than she can count on two hands. 

At the tender age of nine, she began writing stories.  Her imagination fueled a lot of her early child’s play.  Even growing up, she entered writing contests and received a certificate for achieving the second round in one.  She majored in Creative Writing in college because that was all she ever wanted – to be a writer.  While there, she published two works in a university publication, and was a copy editor on the staff of an online student journal.  After graduating from college, she sought out her dream to publish a book.

Since then, Marie has published sixteen books.  Marie Lavender’s real love is writing romances, but she has also written mysteries, literary fiction and dabbled a little in paranormal stories.  Most of her works have a romantic element involved in them.  Upon Your Return is her first historical romance novel.  Feel free to visit her website at http://marielavender.webs.com/ for further information about her books and her life.  Marie is also on Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn.

A list of her books and pen names are as follows:

Marie Lavender:  Upon Your Return

Erica Sutherhome:  Hard to Get; Memories; A Hint of Scandal; Without You; Strange Heat; Terror in the Night; Haunted; Pursuit; Perfect Game; A Touch of Dawn; Ransom

Kathryn Layne:  A Misplaced Life

Heather Crouse:  Express Café and Other Ramblings; Ramblings, Musings and Other Things; Soulful Ramblings and Other Worldly Things

Upon Your Return

Fara Bellamont has been back in society for a year after leaving Cluny Abbey, where her uncle sent her long ago. When he chooses a suitor for her for marriage, she fears that she will be forced to marry a stranger and live a miserable life.

But, Fara finds herself thrust into an adventure of a lifetime when unforeseen circumstances cause her to place her trust in a strange man for protection. His intervention not only saves her, but puts her in an even more compromising position.

Grant Hill, a trading captain, is enchanted by the young heiress not only because of her beauty, but because she is hardly conventional. Underneath her ladylike exterior lies a tigress. Grant cannot help but offer his protection as she is in need and he is far from immune from her charms.

Fara just never bargained on the passion that she feels for Grant Hill. As events unfold, she must decide whether her desires and the dictates of her heart should trump the rules of society in this exciting tale.

Here is an except:

Fara fought the darkness to the coming light. It was so easy to stay in the dark. It was comforting like a warm blanket. But, the light held such possibilities. She knew she must rouse, as if something significant lay there in wakefulness. She stirred and felt a pair of arms holding her. Then she heard a heartbeat beneath a rough fabric, felt a coarse texture of chest hair. It was so secure within that embrace.

When she finally realized it was a man who held her, she gasped and tried to retreat from the cord of muscles.  She glanced up to be temporarily blinded by the lamplight to her left.

“Don’t move,” said a soft but deep voice.

He spoke with the assurance of authority, and she could tell he was used to ordering people around. Well, he wouldn’t order her. She lifted her heavy head and whimpered as a stab of agony sliced through her skull. Fara squeezed her eyes shut tight. It was so much easier to be left in the dark for it was as if her head was being cut with so many knives.

“I will have you more comfortable in a moment. Please do not move.”

How could she possibly move with all this pain and that large man rendering her limbs useless?

Suddenly, she felt a light cushion beneath her. The glare from the lantern came into her vision again when she opened her eyes and was then replaced by the outline of a man towering above her. She gasped and crawled away from him, but his hold on her waist hauled her back. Her head hurt so as he studied her face.

“Madame, the pain will be less if you stay still. I promise I did not bring you here to harm you in any way.”

She gradually settled back on the pillows and looked at her keeper. He was an attractive man, if one liked the rough, indignant kind. Dark layers of soft waves covered his head and ended at the nape of his neck. He was large, but slim in the right places…it spoke of years of hard physical labor.

His eyes captivated her as she studied him in such proximity. The shade of his eyes…a charcoal color; they were the most intense and unreadable eyes she’d ever seen. It was an odd, yet strikingly beautiful color for a man.

Oh, you silly girl, she thought. Really…how ridiculous for her to be wooed by only a pair of eyes. “May I ask you a question?”

“I insist you do, if you are not too unwell.” He gestured to her jaw.

Fara nodded, acknowledging the wound provided by the man named Bernard. She imagined what he referred to must indeed be a hideous sight. She looked around the room. It appeared to be a cabin of sorts. “Monsieur…how did I get here? Are we on a yacht?”

“A ship. My ship, La Voyageur,” he announced firmly with a lifted brow.

Website:  http://marielavender.webs.com/
Blogs:  http://marielavender.blogspot.com/
http://marielavenderbooks.blogspot.com/

Purchase Links

http://store.solsticepublishing.com/upon-your-return/
http://www.amazon.com/Upon-Your-Return-ebook/dp/B00BFX8YLI/
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/315796
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1115291084?ean=2940016439167
http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/Upon-Your-Return/book-S9j9kHxqnUOxEUK4IkjFRw/page1.html?s=sGcZru_xmE2NIc-tjelWvg&r=1

Marie and I would love to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to leave a comment.

This week I’m proud to host cozy mystery author, Kaye George.

Kaye George is a short story writer and novelist who has been nominated for Agatha awards twice. She is the author of four mystery series: the Imogene Duckworthy humorous Texas series, the Cressa Carraway musical mystery series, the FAT CAT cozy series, and The People of the Wind Neanderthal series. EINE KLEINE MURDER, the first Cressa Carraway novel debuts in April from Barking Rain Press. DEATH IN THE TIME OF ICE, the first Neanderthal book, will be published later this year by Untreed Reads.  The first FAT CAT book, from Berkley Prime Crime, will appear in 2014.

 Her short stories can be found in her collection, A PATCHWORK OF STORIES, as well as in several anthologies, various online and print magazines. She reviews for “Suspense Magazine”, writes for several newsletters and blogs, and gives workshops on short story writing and promotion. Kaye is agented by Kim Lionetti at BookEnds Literary and lives in Knoxville, TN.

Eine Kleine Murder

When aspiring conductor Cressa Carraway arrives at her grandmother’s resort home, she finds Gram dead. When Gram’s best friend drowns in the same place, Cressa knows something sinister is at work in this idyllic setting.

Here is an excerpt from the Prologue:

This week on my blog, I’m hosting author Stephen L. Brayton.

Stephen L. Brayton owns and operates Brayton’s Black Belt Academy in Oskaloosa, Iowa. He is a Fifth Degree Black Belt and certified instructor in The American Taekwondo Association.

He began writing as a child; his first short story concerned a true incident about his reactions to discipline. During high school, he wrote for the school newspaper and was a photographer for the yearbook. For a Mass Media class, he wrote and edited a video project.

In college, he began a personal journal for a writing class; said journal is ongoing. He was also a reporter for the college newspaper. During his early twenties, while working for a Kewanee, Illinois radio station, he wrote a fantasy based story and a trilogy for a comic book.

He has written numerous short stories both horror and mystery.

His first novel, Night Shadows (Feb. 2011), concerns a Des Moines homicide investigator teaming up with a federal agent to battle creatures from another dimension. His second book, Beta (Oct. 2011) was the debut of Mallory Petersen and her search for a kidnapped girl. In August 2012, the second Mallory Petersen book, Alpha, was published. This time she investigates the murder of her boyfriend.

He also has a series of serialized short stories featuring Mallory Petersen currently being published in Taekwondo Times magazine.

 ALPHA

On a rainy October morning, Mallory Petersen, private detective and martial artist, discovers the corpse of her boyfriend, Bobby Furillo, in front of her office in Des Moines. Bucking police authority and continually attacked by unknown adversaries, Mallory uncovers Bobby’s devastating secrets. Each new revelation puts Mallory in deeper peril from powerful and dangerous people. And just what are those enigmatic RSVP cards that keep showing up in Mallory’s mail?

Here is an excerpt:

Murder takes but a single bullet.

I later learned a .45 caliber ended the life of Bobby Furillo, but I could have provided a reasonable guess upon seeing his body. I stood on the sidewalk under a dirty white protective awning as the October sky dumped enough rain on which even Noah would have commented. I did not envy the score of officers, forensics experts, and paramedics moving quickly, trying to protect both the corpse and the crime scene from the elements.

Dressed in jeans and sweater under a Sam Spade trench coat and hat, I shivered, horrified, but I couldn’t stop staring as it all unfolded before me.

Bobby’s body lay crumpled upon the wet asphalt in the parking lot next to my office building. Blood from the massive exit hole in the back disappeared in thin colored streams. Red tinged water saturated and darkened his jeans, a leather jacket, and a striped button down shirt. The expression on the once handsome face showed a combination of surprise and shock, blended together to form an image too tragic for anybody to want to remember, but one I’ll never forget.

I also couldn’t stop looking at the half dozen roses thrown aside at the moment of death. Rain battered mercilessly, detaching petals at random, sending them swirling into the gutter and on down the street to disappear in a soon to be overflowing sewer entrance.

Bobby had stopped by my office to take me to lunch and he wanted to bring me flowers.

Instead, when I drove into the parking lot, I’d discovered he’d brought me death and heartache.

Contact information:

Website: www.stephenbrayton.com

Blog: www.stephenbrayton.wordpress.com

Book Review Blog: www.braytonsbookbuzz.wordpress.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stephen.brayton

Twitter: @SLBrayton

Email: slb@mahaska.org

Stephen and I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment.

This week I’m delighted to host my friend and fellow author, Robin Cain.

Robin Cain lives in Scottsdale, Arizona with her husband, two dogs, two horses and donkey. As a novelist, she spends her days searching for the perfect words to amuse, enlighten and touch her readers.   

WHEN DREAMS BLEED

A software genius with a knack for business, Frank Campelletti’s been living the dream his whole life. He’s amassed money, success, and is now accumulating women, but someone thinks he’s gone too far. 

Who is seeking revenge and why? His wife? His mistress? Or the shadow who’s been following his every move?

Just when he thinks he has anticipated his opponent’s next move, a  car accident leaves him paralyzed, his life’s work is being stolen and his wife has disappeared. Just how far will someone go to teach him the correlation between deception and despair?

WHEN DREAMS BLEED examines temptation and the ensuing consequences in a contemporary world. It’s no secret that dreams come at a price, but what happens WHEN DREAMS BLEED?

                            Prologue to WHEN DREAMS BLEED

EXACTLY ONE-THIRD of a living, breathing human being once

upon a time, she is now, she believes, exactly one-third of a dead one.

Her no-good father—may he rot in hell—had made certain of that.

As part of her daily ritual, she pulls the paper from the back of

the book she’d stolen long ago from one of her foster parents’ houses,

carefully unfolds it and proceeds to read it aloud to the empty room:

FATHER IS CHARGED IN DEATH OF SON, 10

A Los Angeles man, accused of fatally

beating his 10-year-old son, was

charged with first-degree manslaughter

on Sunday.

The man, Marcus Lewis, 30, told the

police that he beat his son, Franklin,

on Friday evening, the authorities

said. One of a set of mixed triplets,

Franklin had been fighting with

his identical twin brother, Mr. Lewis

told police. According to the fraternal

twin sister, one of Mr. Lewis’ blows

was so strong it sent the boy flying

across the apartment, the police said.

After the boy hit his head against a

wall and lost consciousness, Mr. Lewis

called an ambulance, they said. The

boy was taken to San Marcos Medical

Center, where he was pronounced dead,

apparently of brain injuries.

In his statement to the police and an

assistant district attorney, Mr. Lewis

said he had previously beaten Frank on

several occasions, but “the good-fornothing

brat would just never mind his

business.”

When officers arrived at the man’s

home, they found the apartment overrun

with insects. “It was a real condition

of squalor,” said Stan Conklin, a

spokesman for the Los Angeles County

district attorney’s office. A neighbor,

who agreed to speak on a condition

of anonymity, told reporters at the

scene that Mr. Lewis’ wife had disappeared

months before and that he often

left the children alone.

The other two children, though suffering

from what appeared to be malnutrition

and severe neglect, were

unharmed, although the daughter was

being examined for sexual abuse. They

were immediately taken into custody by

Child Protection Services and placed

in temporary foster homes.

Slowly refolding the news article and placing it back in the book,

she hears the haunting cadence of her father’s voice as it rushes in and

fills up the dark recesses of her mind.

“No one will ever hurt you, angel. I promise,” he would whisper

while caressing her, often lying naked on the bed beside her. “Even

though there are three of you, I promise to always love you best.

You’re the only one that matters. I don’t even have a use for those

other two.” 

Her hand now shaking, she picks up the razor blade and, just like

the day before and the day before that, she repeatedly slices the top of

her thigh until she can no longer distinguish one pain from the other.

LINK TO KINDLE EDITION:   http://www.amazon.com/When-Dreams-Bleed-ebook/dp/B00359FJF4/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1368052426&sr=8-1&keywords=WHEN+DREAMS+BLEED

COMING SOON:

THE SECRET MISS RABBIT KEPT

Abandoned at birth, 16 year old Sophie is convinced she’s a ‘toss- away’, much like the residents of the nursing home where she has just taken her first job. Finding purpose among theses seniors sounded like a good idea at the time, but lessons in dying aren’t what she had in mind. Sophie has second thoughts until an introduction to a woman who hasn’t spoken in 20 years entices her to stay put.

Now determined to break the woman’s silence, Sophie gets more than she bargained for when an unforeseen gift propels her on a journey through an ugly past and brings her face-to-face with a dreadful secret.

LINK TO AUTHOR’s WEBSITE: http://www.robincain.com

Robin and I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment.

This week, I’m pleased to host author, Sarah Butland.

Sarah Butland was born in Ontario, the year was 1982. She was moved to Nova Scotia for over ten years, moved to New Brunswick for 15 years and now resides in her dream home back in Nova Scotia, Canada. Butland has been married to her high school sweetheart for over 10 years and has a son and a cat who all make her house a home.

The first “big break” for Butland came when she heard from a poetry contest that her poem “Wrong Shell” would be published in their anthology; would she kindly send them thousand’s of dollars to continue on in the finals. Butland’s parents refused. So began the struggle of discovering which awards were actually earned not bought.

Limiting herself to contest submissions from then on, Sarah Butland realized her career of writing would be a difficult struggle no matter the talent she held inside or was forced out. Many stories, attempts at novels and thousand’s of ideas later, Butland created Banana Boy and the Adventures Of Sammy was born with Sending You Sammy, her first published children’s book. Then came Brain Tales – Volume One, a collection of short stories and finally Arm Farm, her current literary pride and joy.

Here is an excerpt from her mystery novel, Arm Farm:

Chapter 1

            As I walked through the valley of the shadow of arms, I quickened my pace to just less than a jog. For better clarity and my own sanity I felt my first visit should have been during daylight; instead my professor insisted on meeting at dawn, knowing I was always early for appointments. It was still dark, with the sun barely above the horizon, and rain clouds threatened to make me even less comfortable. My professor was late, as he often was, but he always thought it was OK as long as he apologized.

            Looking around me I understood exactly what my professor had warned me to expect. Arms grew out of the ground like dandelions in the summer, only they weren’t bright with petals; they were dreary with disturbing protrusions. It certainly wasn’t like any forest I’d ever seen. Even the books didn’t depict the finality of the Arm Farm, which was sinking in quickly.

Save for the sinewy arms against the dreary backdrop and the random chirp from faraway birds, I was alone. The only immediate sounds were my footsteps, the pounding of my heart, and quiet words. I was confused — unsure of where the words were coming from — but listening more closely, suddenly realized that it was me praying.

“…Stay inside me as I dare to tread, be beside me in case I stumble. Dear God, guide me through this…”

Unfortunately, this was the first moment I had ever put my trust in God so I found it difficult to believe He would suddenly appear. Years without feeling His presence wasn’t a strong indication that He would suddenly take an interest in me, because He had done me so wrong when I was a little girl that I found it difficult to let myself embrace His existence.

            Without much looking around I knew I had found the right tree where our meeting was to take place. It appeared exactly like the professor had described; it was hard to miss a tree shaped like a ‘D’. Looking at the tree’s void of branches and foliage I sat right in its belly, which offered only a bit more comfort and safety than one of its protruding limbs. I was slightly shocked at the health of all the trees despite the bombardment of decomposing appendages. There wasn’t a barn or any livestock in sight, not a sound to hear without straining. I was left to my own devices with only my imagination, which too often played cruel tricks on me. The text books discourage wild flights of imagination, but those in the field embrace them. Harder than any test my professor could offer was my own task of learning to embrace — and control — my wild imagination. 

 Visit her at www.SarahButland.com , like her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sarah-Butland and check out her books at http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=sarah+butland.

Sarah and I would love to hear from you. If you leave a comment, you’ll be entered to win a copy of  Arm Farm.

This week, I’m delighted to host the Rhodes to Murder Series author, Mary V. Welk.

I was born into a family addicted to reading. Books could be found everywhere in our house, and as kids, my sister and I haunted the local public library. My first brush with publishing came when I was thirteen. I wrote a short story that found its way into my school’s newspaper. That experience sealed my fate. Even though I became a nurse and earned my real living in that profession, I spent most of my free time writing stories, playing my guitar, and composing lyrics for original songs. It was through music that I met my husband Fred, also a guitarist. Six children and eight grandchildren later, our life together is–in the words of Paul Simon–”still crazy after all these years”.

While in nursing school, I wrote a draft of what would eventually become the first Caroline Rhodes mystery. The manuscript languished for decades in my desk as I worked and raised my children. Then in 1992, I pulled out the story I’d named Four To Go and began writing and revising in earnest. Six years and six revisions later, nothing remained of the original draft except the basic plot. The newly titled A Deadly Little Christmas featured, among other things, more mature characters and a totally different setting when published in 1998. The revisions suggested by the professional editor who’d worked with me on the book obviously helped, because the book earned a Readers’ Choice Award for Best First Mystery in 1999.

Echelon Press bought the rights to my first two Caroline Rhodes mysteries when they went out of print in 2006. Publisher Karen Syed branded the books as the “Rhodes to Murder” series and changed the title of A Deadly Little Christmas to A Merry Little Murder. The second book, Something Wicked in the Air, became The Rune Stone Murders. Also in the series are: To Kill a King and The Scarecrow Murders.

I currently have four complete novels, two novellas, and two short stories featuring Caroline Rhodes. I love writing this series, and I have another mystery planned for Caroline. I’m also working on a new series featuring a very unusual character, plus an anthology of my short stories. Last but not least, I run an editing service for writers. I’m currently editing the manuscript of a first-time author who’s written a nail-biter of a paramedic medical mystery set in the ski country of the high Sierras.

THE SCARECROW MURDERS

CHAPTER ONE

 “Run, Martin! Run!”

Nikki Rhodes megaphoned her plea through cupped hands tinged blue by a cold October wind. The practical side of her brain ridiculed her efforts even as she shouted. The day had dawned gray, with a battery of storm clouds stacked like black casino chips on the far horizon. The clouds had edged ever closer to Rhineburg until, as if pushed by some invisible croupier’s hand, they’d spilled into the skies above Bruck University, announcing their arrival with a smattering of thin raindrops. The dribble had quickly turned into a torrent that pummeled the school’s auditorium and matted the yellow grass behind it.

Now, with the temperature dipping towards the freezing point, the rain had become a crystal curtain of sleet. It battered Nikki’s cries into icy little whispers that spiraled out of control in the gusting wind. Common sense told her Martin could neither see nor hear her.

Despite what her head knew to be true, Nikki’s heart rebelled at the thought of defeat. The man she loved was fighting for his life only sixty yards away. Somehow she had to let him know she was there for him.

She called out again, this time expending every inch of breath available in her hundred-and-twenty pound frame.

“Please, Martin! Ru-unn!”

This second appeal was barely born before a slap shot of arctic air splintered her words into shards of sound that boomeranged back into Nikki’s face. Fragmented syllables ricocheted inside the hood of her yellow vinyl slicker and echoed in her ears like the muffled chant of a ghost choir. She shivered, spooked by the eerie mimicry of the wind.

“Run, Mar-tinnnn! You can make it, boy!”

 Nikki darted a look at the grandfather-like figure roaring encouragement over her left shoulder. Sleet bounced off the bill of Carl Atwater’s Bruck U. baseball cap and trickled down his drooping mustache and Santa Claus beard. Seeking further purchase, the ice crystals burrowed into the red and black checkerboard of his size 54 jacket, pinged off the fat metal buttons marching soldier-like down his stomach, and splashed to the ground in ever-growing puddles around his scuffed boots.

The veteran professor of history seemed oblivious to the sudden downpour that had turned a merely gray day into a cold and miserable one. The brutal wind reddened his face beyond its usual weathered look, but his eyes never wavered from the trio of mud-spattered bodies dashing across the field behind Hildegard Hall. He exhorted the lead runner with a series of deafening war whoops, emphasizing his demands for speed with a clenched fist raised high to punch tight little circles at the charcoal sky.

Watching him bob up and down on the balls of his feet, frozen raindrops sprinkling the air with each thrust of his arm, a picture came to Nikki’s mind of a fat old sheep dog shaking off the residue of a Saturday night bath. It was a comforting image, if not a lasting one.

“Aw, come on, Martin! Wake up and move your feet!”

Nikki’s dark eyes narrowed. Her mellow sheep dog had vanished, melted in the rain like the Wicked Witch of the West. In its place stood an oversized pit bull complete with bared fangs and a bad dude attitude.

“Stop it, Professor!” Nikki waggled a frostbitten finger under Atwater’s nose. “One more word of criticism out of you, and I swear I’ll…I’ll…”

Biting back words that would have shocked her mother, Nikki drew in her breath and finished the sentence with a frustrated shake of her head. The professor responded in typical male fashion. His eyebrows rose in stunned surprise, then fused into a frown mirroring his inner confusion. He seemed baffled as to the reason for Nikki’s anger. He also appeared hurt by the vehemence in her voice.

Nikki chose to ignore the look of mystified pain on the professor’s face. Atwater deserved to be told off, she thought, and not only because he’d criticized Martin. This entire mess was his fault. If he hadn’t egged him on, her husband would be safe at home today instead of running for his life from a pack of thugs. But his mentor’s devious plot had appealed to the macho side of Martin’s character. Testosterone had triumphed over common sense, and her own dire warnings had been in vain. Now Martin was about to die, and for no good reason at all.

Nikki’s Greek blood boiled, her fear for Martin’s safety now preempted by an overwhelming desire to throttle the chairman of the history department.

The professor seemed to read at least a part of her thoughts. He leaned forward, his damp beard brushing the hood of her slicker. “Don’t you worry. Martin’s going to come out of this in one piece.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The burning sensation in the pit of her stomach spread upward to her throat as Nikki stared out over the field. The sleet and driving rain distorted her view, but she could see the gap steadily closing between her husband and the two men chasing him. The taller of Martin’s pursuers appeared to be less than a yard behind him and slightly to his right. A shorter, huskier fellow was closing from the left, a step ahead of his partner and at a better angle to intercept his prey. It was like watching a pyramid collapse, the tip slowly crumbling to be buried by the rubble at the bottom.

Without warning, the shorter man launched himself into the air. His momentum propelled him several feet forward directly into Martin’s path. He fell to the earth with a bone-jarring thud, then twisted to the right, arms outstretched, and grabbed his victim by the ankle.

Nikki reached out blindly and clutched the arm of her mother-in-law. Her fingernails dug a trench in the other woman’s wrist as she watched her husband struggle to escape. Martin was still on his feet, stumbling forward and dragging his attacker with him across the slick grass. Covered in mud, the man held on until the second pursuer caught up with them. This fellow slammed into Martin’s back, seized him by the shoulders, and unceremoniously hauled him backwards.

“Uh, oh,” groaned the professor. “I think he’s a goner.”

Nikki’s lips trembled. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch her husband’s premature demise at the hands of the two thugs.

“It’s over,” she whimpered. “They’ve made me a widow.”

Caroline Rhodes smothered a yelp as her daughter-in-law’s nails triggered yet another spasm of pain in her wrist.

“Look on the bright side,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Martin may be dead meat, but you’ll look smashing dressed in black.”

Website: www.marywelk.com

Buy site:  www.amazon.com/author/marywelk

Mary and I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment.

This week I’m hosting the forth and final hostess of Author Roast and Toast, the delightful Mary Ricksen

I live with my husband of many years in sub tropical Southeast Florida. I have two big, loving, dogs, and a bossy calico cat. If I could have a dozen more, I probably would. Along with the horse I’ve always wanted. I try to put animals in all my books. I remember meeting the first person I became friendly with here. She said she came to say hello because, she figured if I loved animals I had to be a good person. Telling for sure. I started to write so that I could keep my brain working after not being able to work anymore. I hope it’s working, I do forget why I went into the other room. But, I keep lots of notes and I can fake it pretty well. I developed courage, who wouldn’t if they had to speak after the delightful Heather Graham. Which brings me to the most important thing, I think,about writing and the process of publishing a book.

The best thing I got out of writing is meeting other authors. They are an incredible group of people. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting a more loving and supportive bunch.
No matter what genre, jealousy and snide always take a second place to cheering your critique partner on. I just got an honor that means more to me then any money ever could.
It’s what I consider to be a gift that I got from writing. I was voted member of the month for my local RWA chapter, the Florida Romance Writers. They gave it to me for being what I consider normal. For supporting fellow authors, helping  newbies, volunteering to be Secretary, stuff that makes me feel good to do. In short just for being nice. Who woulda thought that anyone would ever tell me I mattered because I treat people the way I want to be treated. It’s taken my whole life to feel that feeling, that I matter to others. That is a gift worth all the effort and more…

Burned Into Time

A horrific car accident, a Celtic ring and destiny, send a young woman on a journey to the past. In a desperate search for her lost sister, she follows the instructions left her in a bank vault from a hundred years ago. Little did she know the ring would save her life and change it in ways she could never imagine. Does she have the strength to live through her nightmare and find her destiny? Can she face her sister now that things have changed so drastically? Only time will tell…

Here is an excerpt:

Opening her eyes became sheer torture. They’d swollen and made it almost impossible to see. After a bit, her vision cleared enough to distinguish things around her. Snow fell gently. It touched her lashes and turned them white and frosty. I can’t feel a thing.
Lying on the ground wasn’t good for a person. What am I doing here?
Then it hit her. Blythe! Her brain screamed what her voice could not. An accident, their car went over a cliff. Blythe had died and there’d be no bringing her back.
Lacy’s slim grasp of reality left her confused. Blythe could not be dead.
Her face, something wasn’t right with her face. Bare hands touched her head, and she screamed. Part of her hair was gone. She looked at her hand and saw blood mixed with long strands of half-burned auburn curls.
King! Her heart pounded as she reached out for him. Her right arm burned painfully; she cringed when she saw it. Lacy used her unburned arm to feel for King.
He kissed her with a wet, warm tongue. She looked at him and recoiled at the singed fur and burns on one side of his once glistening coat. He whimpered, but stood and licked her face.
“Go for help, King. Go get help.”
Her faithful dog pleaded with his eyes and whined in anguish as she told him to go.
“Go King, I’ll be okay, go boy. Good dog. Go! Get help…” Her eyes fluttered, and she heard him whimper. She had to be sure he understood before she passed out.
With one last whine and hesitation, King turned to her. With the last of her strength, she waved him to leave and he limped off. She watched him go, looking to save her, looking for help, looking…
Darkness settled upon her pain-laced mind.

Blogs:
pinkfuzzyslipperwriters.blogspot.com
authorroastandtoast.blogspot.com
maryricksen.com

 Buy Links
http://www.amazon.com/Burned-Into-time-Mary-Ricksen/dp/1613098995/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354120065&sr=1-2&keywords=Burned+Into+Time
wingepress.com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/burned-into-time-mary-ricksen/1113742475?ean=2940015940749

Mary and I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment.

This week love is in the air and adventure as well. My guest is romantic adventure author, P.L. Parker.

I love paranormal and as a result, it’s the perfect genre for me.  I started writing about 7 years ago and have since published 6 novels (Fiona, Riley’s Journey, Aimee’s Locket, Absolution, Into the Savage Dawn and The Chalice), two shorts (Will o’ the Wisp and Heart of the Sorcerer) and two Free Reads (Prophecy’s Bride and Songbird, available from The Wild Rose Press).  My latest novel, Beyond Tomorrow, is the third in the Riley’s Journey series.  I am currently working on a sequel to The Chalice.  In my alter life, I am a wife, a mother of three grown sons, and a grandmother of one special little girl.  I love life and all the ups and downs it brings.

 Beyond Tomorrow

 The vicious and predatory Cros are amassing in ever growing numbers in the foothills above the travelers’ temporary encampment.  Facing inevitable attack, the tribe hastens to prepare for the last leg of their journey—the perilous voyage across the Bering Strait to the shores of the Americas.  But time is in short supply.

Here’s an exciting excerpt.

From the direction of the camp a dog barked, a frenzied, excited yapping. She froze, her senses going on alert. The dogs only barked when something was wrong. The hair at the base of her skull stood on end. She shuddered. Chills raced up and down her spine. Pay attention! That’s what Jonas always said. And here I am outside the stockade without a frickin’ weapon to my name!

I wish Jonas were here right now! Her hand touched the leather sheath hanging from her waistband. No! Wait! I have a cutting knife! Poor defense against the vicious predators lurking outside the boundaries of the camp!

Slow and careful, she backed up, eased out of the water and crouched down. Breathing in tiny pants, her heart drummed a frantic rhythm in her breast.

I could make a run for it! The camp was not that far away but the path meandered through some pretty tall plant life. Plenty of spots for an animal or one of those crazy-assed Cros to hide! Adrenalin surged through her system. She drew a deep breath, readying herself.

“Rach! You out here?” Jeremy’s voice rang out nearby, sounding worried.

“Here,” she called, standing up and waving.

The tall reeds parted and Jeremy’s merry face poked through. “Dogs are fussing. Riley said you were out here. We need to get back inside.”

Her breath exhaled in a relieved whoosh! “Thank God you’re here! I was about ready to mess my drawers.”

His brow furrowed. “Did you see anything? Jonas’ll want a report when we get back.”

“No. I didn’t see anything, but the dogs are still barking. We need to move.”

He chopped at the tall grass with a wicked looking panga. “We need to clear this crap out and open up the pathway! Stuff grows like frickin’ weeds.”

He sliced through the grass, yelped in surprise and then tripped, falling as a monstrous saber-toothed cat sprang from the brush, huge mouth gaping in a screech of rage. He rolled to his side covering his neck as the cat landed astride his back.

Check out other novels at her fabulous website: www.plparker.com and at www.plparker.blogspot.com.

We would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave us your comments.