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Archive for February, 2016

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Steal It All

By Chuck Bowie

It’s Not You; It’s Me

This breakup line has been the subject of many movie and television chats between lovers. You (or she) are trying to be kind, even as you deliver the not-so-great news that things have changed, and not for the better. This kind of change, in most cases, spells the beginning of the end of a beautiful relationship. And these words, as kindly as they are meant to be, suggest that the changes of the past can’t be fixed. For at least one of you, it’s time to go in a different direction.

But does it? I mean, does it always mean you can’t change together and keep that beautiful relationship going? Let me give you an example. Let’s say you’re a writer, and the first books you get published are science fiction, and an SF series is born. That’s great, right? But. What if, just after Book Two, you are visited in the night—from whence all great revelations descend!—by the most fantastic plot twist? It’s so good, you sit all the next day, staring at the three-in-the-morning scrap of paper with a couple of scribbled lines that you just know have nudged you up a notch creatively as a writer.

But here’s the kicker. These brief lines demand you change your series from science fiction to fantasy.

That’s not so bad, you tell yourself. SF and Fantasy are first cousins; practically sisters. Lots of readers wouldn’t even discern the difference, you hope. And the alternative, which would be to begin a new series, say goodbye to everything you’ve worked for (including killing ALL of your characters from Books One and Two), well that alternative would be un-putupwithable. And you sink into despair.

Well, welcome to my world.

My first novel: Three Wrongs (If two wrongs don’t make a right, what do three wrongs do?) was written in the classic international suspense-thriller genre. From preamble to challenge, from quest to rise, from ascent to climax the book met the suspense-thriller illustration. I was satisfied, because this was what I had set out to write.

And then, along came Book Two: AMACAT, an acronym for A Mask, A Cask and A Task. I started to write this sequel by employing the same rules. But, you see, I am a Pantser. When writing, I fly by the seat of my pants. I don’t know what my characters are going to say (until they say it); heck, I don’t even know when a new character will drop in and introduce themselves. Honest. So when this charming older couple drop in and decide to play detective, well, the tone of my novel lightened. Just a bit. Just enough to make me worry that I was now writing a cozy. I wasn’t, but at times it felt like it might be.

I finished number two, was pleased that it seemed to be a better product, but I had that niggling worry my series was changing. And I didn’t want it to change. (Did I mention I don’t always have control over my characters?)

In Number Three: Steal It All, I took my lone wolf contract thief, and I found him a) a girl, b) a legitimate employer, and, yikes! c) two police detectives to work with. These are all antithetical to my contract thief’s essence! For the first time in three novels, my man Donovan was working on the side of the law. My novel was morphing into, of all things, a Police Procedural!

Thriller. Cozy. Police Procedural. I could joke that, if my writing changed any farther, I’d be writing Legal Thrillers! But it is worrisome, because, don’t we have a contract to uphold? I’m not referring to the contract with the publisher, but rather, the one with the reader. When we write a novel, code it to a certain sub-genre and fire off a dust jacket blurb, aren’t we in essence saying to the reader: ‘If you buy this series, I will give you a certain kind of suspense-thriller’? It’ll be like the first one, only eversomuch moreso.

And I worry. Because, I try to write thrillers. And by the time they get through the first half of any of my novels, they will ‘feel’ like they’re reading a thriller. But they have to trust me. Because in Chapter One of AMACAT, they’ll meet this charming couple. And in Chapter Three of Steal It All, they’ll bump into a New Scotland Yard Detective Inspector, and a senior RCMP Detective. And these coppers are not gunning for my man Donovan!

But here’s why I’m not completely worried about hearing the breakup speech from my reader. It’s because I know what a thriller reads like. And my novels read like thrillers. I don’t write formulaic novels, but readers want to be held in suspense as they read. And they want to be thrilled, at some point later in the novel. (Hopefully at several points.) And the reader wants to work through the intricacies of the crime with each chapter. Certainly, they want all of their questions cleared up by the final chapter. So that’s what I do.

I think this argument holds true for romance-erotic romance, historical romance-historical drama, science fiction-fantasy; all of the mash-ups. What is important, however, is to set the rules early in the first novel, and to carry them through the series. If you break the rules to the extent you are no longer abiding by your ‘contract’ with the reader, then you must stop that series and begin another. I know, this will make you shed a tear, but don’t blame yourself. It’s not you; it’s me.

Chuck Bowie is currently working on his fourth novel in the series Donovan: Thief For Hire. It’s called The Body On The Underwater Road.

 

Buy Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Three-Wrongs-Donavan-Thief-Hire-ebook/dp/B00BACRDMU/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1456541043&sr=1-1&keywords=Chuck+Bowie

http://www.amazon.com/AMACAT-Donovan-Thief-Chuck-Bowie-ebook/dp/B00NMOMGWQ/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1456541043&sr=1-4&keywords=Chuck+Bowie

http://www.amazon.com/Steal-All-Donovan-Thief-Hire-ebook/dp/B01A4QF0N6/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1456541043&sr=1-3&keywords=Chuck+Bowie

 

 

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Bio: Charles (Chuck) Bowie

Chuck Bowie graduated from the University of New Brunswick in Canada with a Bachelor Degree in Science. He lives on the East Coast of Canada, an hour North and East of Maine. Growing up as an air force brat, his writing is influenced by the study of human nature and how people behave, habits he picked up as his family moved nineteen times in his first twenty one years. Chuck loves food, wine, music and travel and all play a role in his work.

His writing will often draw upon elements of these experiences to round out his characters and plotlines. Chuck is involved in the world of music, supporting local musicians, occasionally playing with them and always celebrating their successes. Because he enjoys venting as much as the next fellow, Chuck will at times share his thoughts with a brief essay, some of which can be found on his website. http://chuckbowie.ca

He is working through the fourth novel in the suspense-thriller series: Donovan: Thief For Hire. His newest is entitled Steal It All, and follows Three Wrongs and AMACAT. He is now writing the fourth, as-yet untitled.

Chuck is married, with two adult musician sons. He and his wife Lois live in Fredericton, New Brunswick.

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Shocking Finds (A Finder’s Keepers Novel)

-Tracey Clark

 

Here are a few treats for readers interested in Paranormal/Fantasy Romance (New Adult)

A blurb, a quick excerpt, some links for buying options and author info… and

Lastly… a fun little Q&A session with the main character Marin!!

Happy wordage everyone

 

Blurb:

An act of rebellion, Marin doesn’t think that running into the new store in town will hurt anything. Her aunt will never know… right? One car wreck later, her aunt is hospitalized, Marin is forced to spend her twenty-first birthday fighting for her life, and magic – the very thing her aunt has always sworn to be for fools – is real. And so is the irresistible Fae dedicated to Marin’s protection.

Kyland has searched Earth-side and all the other realms, looking for a missing Fae child. A child his Queen prophesied would be able to one day save the Fae people from the Danshue, as the evil Fae threat tries to overwhelm the entire Supernatural Community. A child that would know nothing of her blocked gifts, or her Fae heritage waiting to be claimed. A child that has grown into a curvy, delicious morsel he would love to taste

Together Marin and Kyland will fight Fae assassins, overcome betrayals, and if they’re lucky … they will find the Danshue responsible for their plight. That’s if Marin doesn’t shock him to death with her erratic new gift, and her out of control emotions.

 

Buy your copy today!!

Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Shocking-Finds-Finders-Keepers-Novel-ebook/dp/B014UA6XV0/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1441420146&sr=8-2&keywords=shocking+finds

Barns & Noble:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shocking-finds-tracey-clark/1122614922?ean=2940152332964

Kobo:

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/shocking-finds-a-finder-s-keepers-novel

Indigo:

https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/shocking-finds-a-finders-keepers/9781310309090-item.html?ikwid=shocking+finds&ikwsec=Home&ikwidx=0

Smashwords:

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/574301

 

Excerpt: (from chapter two Shocking Finds)

Marin needed answers. Like why had they been targeted? The parking lot hadn’t exactly been lacking for vehicular violence victim contenders. There had been a group of at least four women, standing by their cars, chatting. If there was a target more deserving of vehicular rage, it had definitely been that group of women. They had finished shopping, and courtesy demanded that their parking spots were to be relinquished as soon as possible. Why not them?

The man—and Marin was only guessing that the driver was a man—had bypassed those without parking lot etiquette and zeroed in on Lindal. If she had continued her slow progress through the parking lot, would Marin be in this horrible room with its beeping monitors and bleached air instead of Lindal.

Staring down at her aunt’s unmoving form, Marin tried to find a place to rest her hand. She needed to touch her. She needed to know that the only person willing to take her in, after the death of her mother, was really here and still alive.

“They will find him, Lindal. He won’t get away with this,” Marin made her vow as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Lindal’s recovery.

Glancing up to keep tears from falling from her eyes, Marin noticed something swinging off of Lindal’s oxygen line. “What the…” It looked like a Barbie doll with wings, perhaps six inches tall. The odd little creature wore a loin cloth and sported some overly obvious male attributes. Was it wrong to be checking out the abs of someone no larger than a child’s toy?

His arms tugged and his muscles bunched as he attempted to make a knot in Lindal’s oxygen line. His silver skin tone went beautifully with his tri-colored wings— a mix of light purple, maroon, and gold. The little man didn’t seem to realize that Marin was staring at him.

“Stop,” Marin shouted. Dammit, this was a hospital. She needed to lower her voice. She also needed to go upstairs to the psych ward. Head trauma, shock, or hallucinations¼ something wasn’t right. If she told Lindal about this, her aunt would call her every kind of fool.

Hallucination or not, she grabbed the little man by the wings, pulled him from Lindal’s oxygen line, and tried to speak more calmly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She finally had her figment’s attention. A striking, though small, pair of lavender eyes glared at her through overly long sandy brown bangs. On closer inspection, she could see that his hair was actually multicolored. It seemed to go from crystal white sand to bronzed gold.

“Well, answer me. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Waiting for you, of course.”

“What are you?” She was losing it. The buzzing in her temples was increasing. And she was now speaking to a figment of her imagination. Yep, she needed to be medicated.

The creature put its tiny fists on narrow hips. “A Sprite, of course. Don’t you know anything? I have my work cut out for me.” Now she was being insulted by her imagination. Great.

“Nope. Too Much,” Marin said and tossed the little man with wings out of the hospital window. She needed coffee. Either that or a large dose of Thorazine. Maybe both.

 

Now… without further ado… here is Marin Yarthine…

Interviewer: You’ve had quick the introduction to the Fae world, Marin… Can I call you Marin..

Marin (reddened cheeks): Uhh… sure… I mean, that’s what most people call me… Kyland has been call me, Minzet, but I’m pretty sure that’s something just between us since it means Sweet One… but…yeah… Marin would be best.

Interviewer (light chuckle): Great. Well, I nice to finally get to sit down with us… and as the new Princess to the Fae people, with such an odd upbringing… the Fae would love to know a little pit about you… Tell us a little bit about day to day life in the royal world…

Marin: Pfft… Most of the time I think they have the wrong girl… I mean… I was home schooled, and have worked at Finder’s Keepers since I turned 17… for the past four years I have been slipping into Finder’s Trances in order to locate everything from pets to abduction victims… from car keys to family heirlooms… it sounds like important work but really, I mostly had to pull a bunch of information together so that other Finder’s could go out on Mission to locate whatever the client had misplaced…

Interviewer: That sounds like important work to me… also, something that would take a toll on your emotions… do you have someone to cuddle up to at night to help you get through the day???

Marin (Cheeks now flaming red): Kyland… he came out of nowhere and changed my life… and he doesn’t even mind when I accidentally shock him with this new power that has a tendency to get out of control when I’m upset…

Interview: …. (shuffles through questions) … (scoots chair back and grits her teeth)… What goals and hardships do you face… what do you want for the Fae?? I mean… what are your plans to keep the Fae community safe?? (scoots back a little further…)

Marin (head cocked to the side): I’m still learning about the Fae world.. but I would say my goal is to keep as many people safe as I can… (fists clench) … if the evil Fae, those Danshue ********… sorry for my language, but if they would just stop getting in the way, I could learn a little faster… someone needs to stop the Danshue before this community I’m just getting to know dies out…

Sparks light up on Marin’s hands, but Interviewer merely gets a white

Knuckled grip on her set and continues…

Interviewer: One final questions and we will let you get back to your new duties as Princess… Can you tell us what fears you are facing in this new chapter of your life???

Marin: … (Deep Breath…) Lindal… that the woman that pretended to be my only family, that kidnapped me as a child (sparks on her fingertips) … that she will find a way to finish what she started… (more sparks) … that she will find a way to hurt the people I am coming to care about… that she will hurt KYLAND … (small explosion blowing out all the lights)

Interviewer warily pulls herself up out of the floor, where she dove to avoid flying glass…

Interviewer (voice shaky) : Alright… I think that’s all we have time for… thanks for stopping by Princess…

 

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All About Tracey Clark!!

I am a country-twang gal from the bluegrass state. Kentucky is a hot bed of horses, cave systems, and whiskey. And I love all three. With my pugs and bossy kitty cat, I spend my days writing and working social media. I write with the help of the voices pushing me to create worlds for them to live in. Fantasy Romance, Contemporary Romance, and eventually some cowboys (because cowboys live in a group all their own, yummmm)… These are the genres that I love best. Oil paints, crafts, dealing with Multiple Sclerosis, and writing into the dead of night… this I my life!!!

To Find out more about Tracey here are some links…

Author Page (Main):

http://traceylclark.com/

Goodreads Author Page:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/103301.Author_Tracey_Clark

MS Page:

https://multiplesclerosisnewsblog.wordpress.com/

Facebook Author Page:

https://www.facebook.com/traceyclark.finderskeepers/?ref=hl

Anddddd…. Twitter Page:

https://twitter.com/traceylclark11

 

 

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Tempered Dreams (book 2 in series)

by Pamela S. Thibodeaux

Blurb: Dr. Scott Hensley (introduced in Tempered Hearts) has built a wall around his heart since the death of his wife and parents. Katrina Simmons is recovering from scars inflicted on her as a battered wife. Can dreams be renewed and faith strengthened? Can they find joy and peace in God’s love and in love for one another?

 Excerpt:

“Right,” she snorted. “I’m so beautiful. My legs are too short, my breasts are too small, and my hips are too big. And you think I’m beautiful. You, doctor, need your head examined. Or your eyes.”

Scott glared at her, irritated beyond belief at what he was hearing. “That low-life son-of-a-bitch really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

Trina gasped, surprised and shocked at his anger. “I was just joking.”

“Well, it’s not funny. You’re constantly putting yourself down, and I’m sick of it!” Lunging from the couch, he carried her into the bedroom and stood her in front of the full-length mirror.

“Look at yourself,” he insisted, urging her chin up with his hand, determined she see herself as he saw her.

“Your skin is like silk, all peachy and soft.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “Your hair is like satin, thick and shiny, makes me think of…” he hesitated. How could he describe the rich gold shot with equal proportions of red? he wondered, running his fingers through it, pulling her head back against his chest and placing a kiss on it.

“Makes me think of a fiery sunset. And those eyes,” he groaned, forcing himself not to turn her around to face him. “Big and luminous and incredibly rich. Like two huge chocolate drops in a bowl of fresh peaches and cream. Those lips,” he traced them with his thumb, “soft and full, beg to be kissed.”

His fingers trailed down her throat and over her shoulders until he cupped her breasts in his hands. “Feel perfect to me,” he breathed, giving them an intimate squeeze. Releasing the tempting flesh, he continued, running his hands over her torso to cup her waist. “Beautiful,” he assured her, his voice thick and husky. “So tiny. I can almost clasp my hands together, you’re so tiny.”

His hands continued their torturous journey, cupping her hips. With a gentle tug, he pulled her firmly against his body. “Flared just right,” he hummed. “Baby-making hips. Watching you walk, with that subtle sway of yours, drives me crazy,” he confessed.

“And those legs,” he rolled his eyes with a satisfied grunt. Turning her around, he picked her up, and wrapped them around his waist.

“Not long, true. But incredibly slender and well toned. The sexiest pair of legs I’ve seen in a long time. And I see plenty of them in my profession,” he admitted, stroking her thigh.

“You have an abundance of energy, and depths of untapped passion which shows in the way you carry yourself, the glow you radiate, and the way you laugh and cry, with all of your emotions. That in itself is a turn on. Knowing when you love, you’ll love with all of your being, that you’ll hold nothing back, and you’ll give yourself freely and completely. I know you haven’t been loved like that before, and it’s hard for you to trust you ever will, or can. But I love you, Katrina. I love you like that,” he whispered.

With a soft moan, he kissed the tear which slipped from her eye. “I love you, Kitten. I think you’re beautiful and it hurts me when you brush off a compliment or put yourself down.”

 

Purchase Links:

Kindle http://amzn.to/1vJEqjk

Amazon Print: http://amzn.to/1q4Q8hV

Nook http://bit.ly/1b1jrNu

B&N Print: http://bit.ly/13l0LK4

Smashwords http://bit.ly/173ypSN

 

Character Interview: Katrina Simmons

  1. Nickname: Well most people call me Trina (short for Katrina) but Scott calls me ‘kitten.’
  2. Favorite place to visit: Honestly I’d never been anywhere but my hometown of Lafayette until I met Scott. We’ve visited New Orleans which is lovely but my favorite place is Bandera, TX where our friends, Craig and Tamera Harris and their children live on the Rockin’ H ranch.
  3. Significant other: Dr. Scott Hensley – we met after my (now ex) husband were in an automobile accident and he quickly became my hero then significant other and now we’re married.
  4. Worst fear or nightmare: My worst fear or nightmare had been real up until I met Scott. You see, I come from an abusive background as a battered woman. Now that Scott and I are together, I guess my biggest fear is that I’ll never have a baby. I lost one in that auto accident with my now-ex-husband, Jack.
  5. What would you do if you won the lottery? I would support women’s shelters locally, nationally and globally, making sure no abused woman or her children ever have to go back into that situation.

 

Pamela S Thibodeaux publicity photo

Author bio: Award-winning author, Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, “Inspirational with an Edge!” ™ and reviewed as “steamier and grittier than the typical Christian novel without decreasing the message.”

Links:

Website address: http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com

Blog: http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com

Face Book: http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux

Twitter: http://twitter.com/psthib @psthib

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/pamelasthibodea/

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Boxes For Beds by Maryann Miller

BLURB

The 1960s were a time of peace and love in California, but not so in Hot Springs, Arkansas where the mob still ruled. In Boxes For Beds, babies are being kidnapped, and the local sheriff has to put this case to bed before the bosses come down from Chicago for a big meeting. They don’t need the heat of an open investigation that could interest the Feds, and they have the local sheriff under their control. He thinks it’s a good move to arrest Leslie Richards, the new woman in town, even though there’s only thin circumstantial evidence against her. Better for it to be a stranger taking those babies and not one of their own. Leslie has left New York with her ten-year-old daughter, Mandy, hoping to escape from her past and the ruins of a relationship, only to discover that there is little peace for her in Pine Hollow, Arkansas.

EXCERPT

January 1936

“Hush little baby, don’t you cry … ” The plaintive melody whispered in the otherwise resounding silence.

One small candle flickered atop the dust-­encrusted chest of drawers, the feeble light unable to dispel the gloom born of the murky darkness. The yellow flame wafted in a sudden draft, casting macabre patterns on a precarious stack of old boxes supported by an intricate network of cobwebs. The pale light briefly touched a figure hunched over an open trunk.

The figure loomed more like a shadow than a real person and reached out a hand to lightly trace the features of the tiny bundle nestled within the trunk’s musty interior.

“Would you listen to me? Singing to a doll-baby just like you was real.”

Wide, unblinking eyes stared back.

“Sometimes I wish … but no. It’s better this way. If you was real, then I’d have to tell you to hush for sure. The Man don’t let me play with no real babies. Says I might hurt ’em. But he don’t know. I can be real gentle. Ain’t my fault those others broke. You ain’t gonna do that are you?”

Silence.

March 6, 1961

Leslie Richards sat on the ground, idly picking at the strands of dry grass beside her. No sign of green yet, not even in Pine Hollow, Arkansas. Not that she really expected it. Early March is still winter whether in Arkansas or New York, but at least the breeze blew a little warmer here. She definitely wouldn’t be sitting on the ground if she were still in New York.

Easing herself against the thick trunk of the old oak, which stretched leafless branches high into a shimmering blue sky, Leslie thought of how her agent had reacted to the news of her impending move. Merrill had stolen the response Leslie had expected from her parents.

“What on earth do you want to leave New York for?” Merrill rolled a well-chewed pencil between her slim fingers, staring at Leslie in frank astonishment.

“You’re the one who keeps telling me a writer should be well-traveled. Let’s just say I’m broadening my horizons.”

“Some podunk town in the South is hardly what I had in mind.”

“That ‘podunk town’, as you so colorfully put it, is part of my heritage. My grandmother was raised there. I can reconnect with my roots.”

“Right. Like that’s been a burning issue in your life.” Merrill flashed one of her lopsided smiles. “I think you’re holding out on me, kid.”

“Oh, Merrill,” The tears Leslie had vowed not to burden her friend with welled in her eyes and spilled unbidden down her cheeks. “Everything’s such a mess. Since Ronald … I can’t think. I can’t work.”

BUY LINKBoxes for Beds is available in paper, electronic, and audio. Links to all formats are on Maryann’s Book Page on her website:

http://maryannwrites.com/books/boxes-for-beds/

 

Character Questions:

What would I do if I won the lottery? What a great question. We all fantasize about that, don’t we? First, I’d endow the Winnsboro Center For the Arts where I have been the theatre director for many years. WCA offers live concerts, theatre, exhibits, classes and workshops in all areas of creativity, and it has brought so much cultural enrichment and joy to the people in this rural area where I live. Then I would gift my church and my children. Lest I sound too altruistic, I would buy myself a bigger ranch and hire some people full-time to help with the animals.

What is my favorite place to visit? I find it interesting that that will change for me depending on the day and my mood. At the top of the list is visiting my family. The bonds I have with siblings, children, grandchildren are strong, and those bonds pull us together. I also love to go to nearby lakes and sit quietly, just absorbing the beauty around me. Sounds sappy, I know. But, hey, I live in a place where Mother Nature has done some of her best work. I also must mention how much I enjoyed visiting the Bath Houses in Hot Springs. We writers do have to suffer for our research. (smile)

Level of Education or self-taught? While I have gone to college, it was not for classes related to writing, although I did audit a Master’s Class in creative writing. My area of study was psychology and sociology, which certainly has helped me in understanding human nature – as much as anyone can understand. I have taken many writing workshops, including a six-week class with Joe Camp on screenwriting. Things that I learned there helped with acting and directing, in addition to what I learned about writing. On stage, or on screen, you don’t always need words. Next time you watch a movie, focus on what an actor can convey with a look or a gesture. I find it challenging, and interesting, to try to translate that into narrative fiction.

 

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AUTHOR BIO

Maryann Miller is a best-selling author of books, screenplays and stage plays. Boxes for Beds is her first indie release. Her previous books include a police-procedural mystery, Open Season, which is the first   in a new series that features two women homicide detectives. Think “Lethal Weapon” set in Dallas with female leads. Miller has won numerous awards for her screenplays and short fiction, including the Page Edwards Short Fiction Award, the New York Library Best Books for Teens Award, and first place in the screenwriting competition at the Houston Writer’s Conference.

 

AUTHOR LINKS – Amazon Author Page     http://www.amazon.com/Maryann-Miller/e/B001JP7Y1S/

Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/Maryann-Miller-176896965725974/

Author Website http://maryannwrites.com/

 

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Couple kissing HOMETOWN HEARTACHE teaser

 

Hometown Heartache

by M.J. Schiller

Nash is trying to make a name for himself in the art world…

But when he meets a realtor to buy a gallery, he is stunned to find Chloe sitting at the table with the man. He has never stopped thinking about her since she disappeared from his life without a trace. Is it too late to win back her love?

Chloe has finally found a way to leave her past behind her…

But her heart leaps out of her chest when she sees Nash. How can he be here? Now…after all this time? On the surface, she pulls herself back together. But underneath she feels she is about to shatter. After remaking herself, how can she deal with being faced with Nash and the life she knew before?

If this chance meeting doesn’t rip Chloe and Nash apart, he will.

Little do they know, someone has been lurking in the shadows, manipulating them all along. If he has his way, the two will never be reunited. Even if he has to take one of them out to ensure it.

EXCERPT

I half-listened to Jack as he rambled on about some property or other, but my eyes kept drifting expectantly to Chloe, unable to believe, after all these years, that she sat across from me, our knees close to touching under the table, my heart racing away, with me hanging on for dear life. How many pictures in my portfolio were of her? Nudes, profiles, and just vibrant, swirling colors which represented the confused emotions she often brought out in me… I gave my attention briefly to Jack.

“…is in your price-range, but it needs a little work…”

I nodded, trying to appear engaged, before again sliding my gaze to Chloe. This time, as I looked, her gaze flitted up to mine and held for a second. I was surprised to see tears in her eyes, and utter disbelief and confusion. She glanced down again and her tremulous hand reached for the water glass. She took a sip, and then seemed to center herself, because the next time she raised her eyes, they were smiling falsely, appearing distant and disconnected, as if she had turned off a switch deep inside her. And I was amazed by how seemingly effortless it was for her; she didn’t show an ounce of emotion throughout the rest of the meal. I got the feeling this detachment was much more the standard for her; the brief bit of genuine feeling I glimpsed in her was what was a rarity, as far as Chloe Carmichael went, that is.

I wished it were as easy for me. My insides were a tangled up heap of mismatched socks. I was both excited and terrified, love-sick and car-sick, my stomach lolling about like a puppy in freshly mown grass. I barely ate a bite of my fifteen-dollar steak sandwich.

“So… How do you two know each other?” Jack asked, filling up the awkward silence I accidentally let descend on the table, intent as I was on trying to calm my nerves while still basking in Chloe’s nearness. The realtor was unable to keep the hint of jealous suspicion out of his voice. He looked from me to Chloe, licking his lips.

She spoke up, as if having been prodded with a stick. “Oh. We grew up together. Yes, Nash is an old family friend.” She said the last with a trace of bitterness on her sweet tongue. Neither of us elaborated further, but even Jack could read the tension between us like storm clouds rolling in to block the morning sun.

By the time the meal was over, I agreed to see any number of properties the following afternoon, hoping to put an end to the painful conversation as soon as possible, wanting to get Chloe alone. I excused myself finally, making up some lame story about a lawyer’s appointment, and left. I chanced a glance back as I left the room, wishing to catch those breathtaking green eyes again, but Chloe only stared blindly at her water glass, while Jack examined her with a frown.

Buy Link ~

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AHIS2TK?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

 

CHARACTER INTERVIEW

Nash Nabry
Nickname-
You know what? I’ve never had one. I guess it’s because my name is so short. No need to shorten it. I’d kind of like one, though…

Worst fear or nightmare- I’m not scared of much, to be honest. But I am scared that I won’t be able to convince Chloe we belong together. Because living life without her, well let’s just say I don’t want to go back there.


Secret desire or fantasy-
To win Chloe back, marry her, and maybe raise a family. Yeah. That would be nice.


What would you do if you won the lottery?
I’ve actually thought about this, with the recent Powerball jackpot. I’d travel the world with Chloe and paint all of the places that we saw. But I’d keep my loft and probably not change my lifestyle much. I don’t really need much more than what I already have. And I’d donate the rest to help the underprivileged. Oh, and maybe give some to the New York City School of Art.

What’s your family like and how does your upbringing affect you now? My family has always offered me unlimited support. I guess that is what has always kept me centered. It kept me going when Chloe was gone, and helped me to believe that I would find her again someday. And I did.

 

Picmonked Profile pic

ABOUT M.J. SCHILLER

MJ is a lunch lady in the heart of Central Illinois. My gosh! Can you get more folksy than that? She met her husband at the University of Missouri-Columbia and now she has a nineteen-year-old (how did that happen?) and seventeen year old triplets! She loves to read, karaoke (where she can pretend she is a rock star) and spends WAY too much time on Facebook. She grew up in St. Louis and still has family there.

Website: www.mjschillerauthor.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/MJ-Schiller-Romance-Author/286382241460365?ref=hl

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/mjschiller/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/mjschiller

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/M.J.-Schiller/e/B009JOQFQQ/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

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ATT-kindleCover

All This Time

by Kim Cox

Characters from All This Time Interview Lana Malloy from the Lana Malloy Paranormal Mystery Series

Jenny Morgan Drake and her husband, Trevor Drake, from “All This Time” Book 1 of the Style & Profile series, visits Lana Malloy, a psychic private investigator, to interview Lana for Jenny’s family magazine, Morgan Fashions. This interview will take place between books 2 & 3, GET OUT OR DIE and THE WEDDING CRASHER, from the LANA MALLOY PARANORMAL MYSTERY series and after Book 1 of the Style & Profile series—Book 2, “Before We Wed” will be out late 2016.

* * * *

A Little Backstory

Trevor reluctantly accompanies Jenny on the trip to James Island, South Carolina. He agrees to go only because Jenny refuses to wait, and he doesn’t want her to go alone in her much pregnant condition.

Trevor doesn’t believe in ghosts roaming the earth, much less someone who can see and talk to them. He expects to see a rundown witch/voodoo shack in the swamp. He’s done his research and knows Lana’s fiancé, Tony Calabria is a man of means, but he figures Tony probably hides his girlfriend out in the boonies as to not scare the town folk.

On the other hand, Jenny has read all about Lana’s experiences and believes she is exactly who she claims, a private investigator for the unusual.

Lana is in the process of moving stuff into their getaway home on James Island, near Charleston, South Carolina, where they will live part-time after they’re married. She loves the house and wants to show it off.

* * * *

The Interview

Lana meets them at the front door. “Hello. Jenny, Trevor, welcome to my home. Please come in? And help yourselves to the tray of iced tea and cookies here in the den. Please forgive the mess. I’m in the process of moving a few things into this house.”

“Lana, how lovely you are.” Jenny touches her belly as she wobbles inside.

Trevor stands in the doorway listening and looking around the house as if something might jump out at him.

“Thank you.” Lana says, as she leads them to the den.

“You have a lovely home. It’s exquisite and huge, but also has a homey feel. I love all the porches.” Jenny elbows Trevor playfully in the ribs. “Doesn’t she, Trevor?”

Trevor clears his throat nervously. “Yes, it’s very nice. The Weeping Willow trees along the long drive are nice.” He straightens his tie.

“Tony bought the house as a wedding present to me. He’s a sweetheart. He knows how I hate living in the city.”

Jenny asks, “But didn’t I read somewhere that you did live near the beach front in Charleston?”

“Yes. I’m transforming it into a full-time office.” She glances at Jenny’s girth. “How far along are you?” Lana asks. “Have a seat, please.” She motions them toward a sofa near the picture window.

“Oh, I’m a little over six months.” Jenny sits on the couch as Lana sits in her favorite chair opposite them. Trevor slides in beside his wife.

“If you’d like, after we finish our snacks, we can go out on the back porch for the interview. It’s shaded from the hot sun this time of day.” Lana takes a bite of her chocolate chip cookie.

“That sounds nice.” Jenny sips on her tea, already having finished off three of her own cookies.

Lana ushers them to the back porch overlooking the pool in the back yard. She turns on the porch’s ceiling fans to stir the air and guides them toward the four rocking chairs lined up across the porch.

As they get settled, Lana feels a kindship to Jenny. She senses the loss of Jenny’s mother and sister. And that her father, although still alive, had a health scare a couple of years ago.

Jenny positions her pen above her pad to take notes, but asks, “Do you mind if I record our interview?”

“Not at all.” Lana spreads her hands over her sundress to smooth out the wrinkles.

Trevor takes the small recorder from his pocket and presses the on button.

“Jenny, I hope I’m not overstepping, but I was told to tell you that your mother and sister are pleased and thrilled that you and Trevor chose to name your daughter after them. Caroline Beth Drake, isn’t it?”

Trevor almost chokes on the mouthful of tea he’d just sipped. “What!”

“Oh and Trevor, your father hopes you’ll name your son after him. It doesn’t have to be your son’s first name but a middle name would be nice.”

Jenny appears shocked. She believes that spirits are all around them, and she believes in Lana, but just to have her come out and say that was chilling. She never figured her mother and sister would contact her like this. Tears come to eyes and she pulls a tissue from her purse. “Thank you, Lana, and can you tell them I love and miss them. And tell Alfred, we’re not giving our son his first name but we may give him the name David which is Alfred’s middle name.”

Lana smiles. “You just told them.”

Both women look at Trevor who has turned three different shades of red and his eyes are watering. Lana isn’t sure if he’s crying or if it’s from where he’d choked. “How do you, or my father for that matter, know that we’re having a boy this time?”

“Trevor!” Jenny gives him her most furious expression. “Don’t start.”

“No. I’m not trying to . . . I just need to know.”

“That’s okay. Trevor, the spirits know many things that are unknown to us. They give me bits of what they know when they want me to know about it. In this case, you father wants you to know how he feels.”

“Okay. That sounds like my father. Tell him I love and miss him, please.” Trevor sniffs and wipes his nose with a handkerchief. He loosens his tie and opens the top button of his shirt.

“He can hear you, Trevor.” Lana looks at him with concern. She hopes she hasn’t said too much.

He runs both hands through his hair. “I’ve got to take a walk. Will you be okay?” he asks his wife.

Jenny touches his hand as he stands up. “Are you okay, Honey?” she asks him. Concern is evident in her voice.

“I will be, I just need to rethink everything I’ve ever believed.” He walks off the porch and around the corner of Lana’s house.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him,” Lana says, regretting she’d let Alfred talk her into telling Trevor about his presence.

“It’s okay. His father has always been a sore subject for him. He and his mother lost him when Trevor was only ten.” Jenny searches the area to see if she can see Trevor but he’s out of sight. She picks up her pad and looks at Lana. “Shall we get on with the interview?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Lana, you have been one busy psychic.”

“I suppose so.” Lana smiles.

“How do you do it? Do the ghosts just appear to you and help you solve whatever problem there is at the time?”

“Not exactly. Sometimes it’s hard to get them to talk and other times you can’t shut them up. An example of the latter would be my Aunt Lucy.”

Both women laughed.

“I heard that,” Lucy chimes in.

“Lucy has shown up, by the way. Go away, Lucy. I’m a bit busy here.” Lucy for once does as Lana requests and leaves without another word. “Go ahead. She’s gone.”

“I would love to have your gift, Lana. To know the things you do. To be able to help people, both the dead and the living.”

Lana clears her throat. “You mean you would like to never be alone, hearing people telling or showing you information all the time. And this information may or may not be something you can do anything about. When you least expect it, you’ve got a crisis to take care of. It doesn’t matter that you’re having a romantic dinner with your fiancé, you’re out with friends, sound asleep, or in the middle of a shopping mall. It doesn’t matter. They are demanding your attention.”

“Oh wow! I didn’t realize you’d have no control over the when.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Probably just wedding jitters. I’m very thankful for my gift, but it can be very disrupting to my life. I like being able to help people, and I love being able to talk to those I love after they’ve passed on, especially my Aunt Lucy. However, spirits can be very impatient. Their time isn’t like ours and it all seems urgent to them for some reason, particularly those who have recently passed. Those who have been gone for a while seem to be a little more tolerant.”

“I see.” Jenny wrote on her pad. “Did I hear you correctly? I think you mentioned twice about getting married.”

“Yes, Tony and I are getting married.”

“When?”

“In two short months, and I’m both excited and terrified about that.” Lana smiles and takes a sip of tea.

“I know the feeling. You met my husband, Trevor.” She laughs.

“Yes. He’s adorable. I could tell right off he’s a skeptic.”

“That’s stating it lightly. Trevor doesn’t believe in much of anything that he can’t see or touch unless he’s experienced it for himself.” She glances toward the edge of the yard but Trevor still hasn’t returned. “So, why are you so nervous? Don’t you know that your marriage is meant to be? If Tony is the one for you?”

“I do but not in the way you mean. I once caught a glimpse of our lives together.” She wrings her hands together. “But lately . . . I don’t know. I’ve not been sleeping well, and I have a strange feeling that something bad is about to happen.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“That’s the problem. I have no idea.” Lana stands and walks to the edge of the porch, placing one hand on the railing.

Jenny leans a little forward. “But you’re psychic. I don’t understand. Don’t you know everything?”

Lana turns to face Jenny and leans against the post. “Most people don’t understand. I only get pieces of things I need to know in order to help someone else. Sometimes those pieces are hard to interpret. Every once and a while, I’ll get a premonition or see someone’s past. Sometimes it may be for no other reason than it’s something I need to know myself. But most of the time it’s to help someone else. I rarely see anything beneficial to me personally. My one vision of my life with Tony was an exception.”

Jenny writes furiously. “Oh, and can you give me an instance of a premonition you’ve had?”

“Yes. When I was about twelve, I saw my grandfather’s death before he died. He was old and I thought I was dreaming it because he’d been under the weather for the last few days, and I was scared for him. He died within the week.”

“That must’ve been terrifying for you as a child that young.”

“It was. At the time, I didn’t believe in my own gifts. And I thought perhaps God thought my dream meant I wished it. I blamed myself.” Her eyes moisten from the memory. “I see how silly that was now. At times, I feel blessed to have this gift, and yet, cursed at others.”

“Since you didn’t believe in yourself, how did you come to terms with knowing and seeing things that no one else could see or hear?”

“Aunt Lucy and my best friend, Demi, helped me.”

“Demi?”

“Yes. Demi Lancaster.” Jenny clears her throat. “Off the record, please?”

“Sure.” Jenny turns off the recorder.

“I don’t want to get her into trouble. Her boss knows I know things, but he doesn’t want to know about spirits.”

“I understand.”

“Demi’s a Charleston Police Detective and a godsend to me. She helps me figure things out sometimes and gets information for me when I need it if it is a life and death situation.”

“She sounds like a good friend.”

“She is.”

“Back on the record, now?”

Lana nods her head.

Jenny turns the recorder back on. “But how did Demi convince you to believe in your gift?”

“Well, it was after my great aunt Lucy came to see me one night right after she died. Aunt Lucy told me to embrace my gift and stop suppressing it. That suppressing it would only make things worse.”

“I see, but how did that help you?”

“It didn’t really. Aunt Lucy told me I didn’t want to know what would happen if I didn’t accept my gift. She pretty much scared me more than anything else. Not so much her words but the look on her face when she said it.”

“What did Demi do?”

Lana sat back on the edge of her chair, turning slightly to face Jenny. “After I told her about it, she held me while I cried. She patted my back and let me get it all out. Then she said, ‘Now Lana, you know what you have to do.’ And I asked, ‘What?’ and she said, ‘You know you have to do what your aunt said. I believe in you, and you have to believe in yourself.’ She said it just as plain as that.”

“I don’t understand how that helped you.”

“You have to know Demi. She doesn’t give herself freely. She’s a very guarded person. She’s also a straight shooter. She doesn’t say anything she doesn’t mean. So, if she says it, you know it to be true. Demi has always been there for me and she’s always believed in me. She believed I had the gift. Never once did she think I’d lost hold on reality.”

“That makes sense.” Jenny jotted more notes on her pad. “So, you seem a little more relaxed.”

“I am. Jenny, you’re a natural. And you’ve made me feel at ease.”

“Thank you. Now, I want to know about some of your cases. I’m impressed with everything you’ve done.” She flipped through the pad. “You helped your Aunt Lucy and her fiancé move on, after twenty years, by helping solve their murder. Can you tell me how that happened?”

“We had a little show and tell at Tony’s house. I also had plenty of help from Tony, Aunt Lucy and Tony’s grandfather, Davide. Of course, Demi helped with that also. She and a few of her friends waited while the ghosts mostly scared a confession from the group.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“Not really. We had to do a lot of research to figure out who to invite on pretense of Davide’s new will. Getting the family in one place at the same time was a huge undertaking.”

“Tony’s family, your fiancé, correct?”

“Yes.” Lana smiles at the memory of him from that morning, not wanting to leave her here alone to face the mean reporters. He could be overprotective at times.

Jenny jotted in her notebook again. “So, and then there was the angry ghost at a home near here, and you’ve done a lot of pro bono work for those living in the Charleston area.”

“Yes. Adam turned out to be not so bad. He just had some issues he had to work through.”

“You’re being modest, Lana.”

“Not really. I always have plenty of help from the spirit guides and the ghosts themselves.” Lana stands and pours herself more tea. “Would you like more, Jenny?”

“Yes. Thank you. Okay, so how did you help Adam work out his issues?”

Lana fills Jenny’s glass and places the pitcher on the table between them. “I saw into the past lives of both Adam and Sean. Sean was the father of the occupants of the house and Adam’s business partner. Adam and Sean had fought throughout history for one reason or another. When I explained it to Adam, it helped him mellow some. When I mentioned his wife, Kara, and how she’d loved the Ramsey’s children, and the promise he’d given to her on her death bed, he finally saw himself for what he was doing to them.”

“Wow! That took a lot of seeing into his life. Way back to previous lives. You did see his life, right. He didn’t offer you the information.”

“Right. He didn’t know about his past lives. I had a dream about that, and I think Kara showed me herself on her death bed.”

Jenny taps her pencil on the pad. “That sounds like a tough case.”

Lana smiled. “At the time, it was. I was also dealing with the reality that I could be possessed by a spirit if I didn’t prepare myself.”

“What? Possessed? How do you prepare for something like that?”

“A lot of prayer and focus.” Lana replied. Lana stood, picked up the pitcher of tea and her glass and carried them into the kitchen, in hopes that Jenny would take the hint that the interview was over.

Jenny followed behind her into the kitchen. “What now?”

“What do you mean?’

“Are you working on anything else, or will you soon?”

“I don’t know. Not any ghosts right now. I guess if something comes up, I will help. I do have a couple of small jobs, mostly computer work for Tony. Background checks on new employees and things like that. But for now, I’m happy just planning our wedding.”

Trevor walks into the kitchen. “Is the interview over?”

“I think it is. Thank you, Lana. It was a pleasure meeting you finally.” Jenny smiles and holds out her arms to Lana.

The two women hug.

“Yes, thank you, Lana,” Trevor says, still a little choked up. “I appreciate everything.”

Lana nods her head knowingly and holds her arms out to Trevor. He hugs her neck.

Tony walks in and Lana introduces him to the two visitors. He shakes their hands and says, “How did it go?”

“Fine,” Lana says.

“More than fine. Is she always so modest? You have an amazing fiancée, Mr. Calabria.”

“I sure do,” he says, wraps an arm around her waist and hugs her to him. He kisses the top of her forehead.

Tony and Lana walk Trevor and Jenny to the door.

In the car, driving down the long winding road, Jenny turns to Trevor and asks, “So what do you think of Lana Malloy, now?”

“As much as I hate to admit I was wrong, she’s the real deal. What do you think?”

“You heard me back there. She’s an amazing woman.”

 

LMPMseries

 

All This Time is available now in print and electronic formats through Amazon Kindle and Amazon Print,  24Symbols, Barnes & Noble Nook, iTunes iBook, Kobo, and Page Foundry.

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ABOUT KIM COX

Kim Cox is an author of Paranormal, Mystery, Suspense and Romance. She lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina with her chain saw artist husband, their West Highland White Terriers–Scooter and Harley, and a Yorkie mix, Candi. Kim is published in novels, short stories and articles.
Sign up for Kim’s Readers List for exclusive information, new releases, contests, giveaways, and free books.

Visit her at the following sites:

Author’s Website: http://www.kimcoxauthor.com

Blogs: Kim’s Musings, Kim’s Author Support Page

Amazon Author Page: http://amazon.com/author/kimcox

Social Media locations:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kimcoxauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/KimCoxAuthor

Google: https://plus.google.com/+KimCoxAuthor/posts

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/kimcox

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kimwrtr/

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/kimwrtr

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Assaies Gift

 

Assaie’s Gift

by D. E. Howard

Kia Deering is a normal teenage girl looking forward to celebrating her 18th birthday in style. What she didn’t anticipate was the revelation that would change her life beyond recognition.
The Goddess Assaie fell for a human and gave up everything, including her identity, to be with him, sacrificing everything she ever knew in the name of true love.
When Kia discovered she was a descendant of the Goddess she had a year to embrace all that it meant or to turn her back on her destiny forever.
Kia had always believed herself to be ordinary but now she was extraordinary she had no idea if she could handle the potential of the power within her. Perhaps the handsome young man she meets in a nightclub could be the distraction she needed, or perhaps he will open up a whole new set of questions himself.

A pantheonic love story with several twists on the theme, I can highly recommend this first novel by this author”
“Amazing book from start to end”
“I shall be recommending it to my friends”

Events from the past come together, in this fantastical romance, to change the present and nothing will ever be the same again, for any of them.

Read D E Howard’s début novel Assaie’s Gift and follow a love that began in another era.

Egg-cerpt:

While Sofia fumbled in her bag for her mobile phone Kia raced around to the front of the car. From the back seat she hadn’t been able to see the other vehicle which it appeared they had hit side on, crushing both the driver’s door and the front of the taxi. The driver, and sole occupant, of the other vehicle was motionless, blood covering his face as it ran freely from a large cut in his forehead.

“Are you all right?” She shouted, the driver’s eyes flickering open in acknowledgement. “It’s okay, we’ve called an ambulance… just stay where you are.”

Racing around to the driver’s side of the taxi Kia stopped dead, the taxi driver was sprawled across the road before the car, his leg at a painfully unnatural angle, his body bloodied from the many cuts he sustained from the windscreen’s glass. The thing that made Kia stop and take a deep breath however were his eyes, they were now wide open and staring up at the sky unblinking, they showed no sign of life.

Approaching him slowly Kia took some deep steadying breaths, she had taken a few first aid courses in college but nothing could have prepared her for this.

“Hello?” She said as she crouched down beside him. “Hello can you hear me?”

Getting no reaction Kia reached out a hand and gently shook the taxi driver’s shoulder.

“Hello?” She said again, already knowing that it was too late for him to ever hear her again but unable to stop trying. “Please be all right… hello?”

Kneeling down closer to the driver Kia leaned over, holding her hair back, as she tried to listen for any sounds of breath but there were none, his eyes still stared lifelessly at the sky.

“What do I do?” Kia said quietly to herself as tears began to fill her eyes. This was not the way her birthday was supposed to end and she was certain that the taxi driver hadn’t anticipated such a final end to his evening either.

Unable to do anything else Kia took hold of the driver’s hand gently and closed her eyes. It didn’t seem right to just leave him.

She didn’t notice the burning sensation in her palm at first as her body was already full of aches from the collision but after a few minutes it was impossible to ignore and her eyes shot open to look down at the hand that held onto that of the driver. Kia wasn’t certain but she thought she could see a strange white glow around their hands and then, as quickly as it started, the pain faded away and seconds later so did the glow.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts Kia decided she was imagining things due to the stress of the accident.

Then the driver began to cough.

“What happened?” He asked, rubbing his free hand over his face as he straightened the leg that moments ago had seemed irrevocably broken.

“Accident,” Kia said, unable to form any more coherent words than that, relief flooding her body at the sound of the ambulance sirens rapidly approaching.

Buy links:
Amazon: myBook.to/Assaie or http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00TJ2Y4YI

CreateSpace eStore: https://www.createspace.com/4566626

 

Time to get to know a little more about Kia Deering with this questionnaire:

  1. Nickname: My name is a little short to do much with, but friends do sometimes just call me “K”
    2. Job: I’m currently a student, I was going to get a part time job to help out, but mum wouldn’t hear of it.
    3. Level of schooling, or self-taught: That’s still ongoing!
    4. Birthdate: August 19th – summer birthdays are the best
    5. Birthplace: A little town you wouldn’t have heard of – nowhere very exciting I’m afraid
    6. Currently residing in: Still living at home with my mum
    7. Favourite type of pet: I don’t have one myself, but who can resist a puppy? I have to have a cuddle.

 

DEHpic

About D. E. Howard

D E Howard was born and raised in the small seaside town of Southport (UK) where she still resides. Enjoying writing for most of her adult life, she only recently decided to turn her ideas into books. Part time gardener (just at home!), part time dog walker (for a crazy cairn terrier) and part time author, she still has time for a full time job. Work pays the bills, but writing feeds the soul. Her second book “Spirit of the Book” will be out soon.

Author Links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DEHAuthor/

Blog: https://dawndelivers.wordpress.com/

Twitter: @dehauthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13529086.D_E_Howard

 

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