Interview with Carlyle Walker and book bash stop for The Black Song Inside

Author Bio:

Carlyle Clark was raised in Poway, a city just north of San Diego, but is now a proud Chicagolander working in the field of Corporate Security and writing crime fiction and fantasy. He has flailed ineffectually at performing the writers' requisite myriad of random jobs: pizza deliverer, curb address painter, sweatshop laborer, day laborer, night laborer, twilight laborer (of the fang-less variety), security guard, campus police, Gallup pollster, medical courier, vehicle procurer, and signature-for-petitions-getter.

He is a happily married man with two cats and a dog. He is also a martial arts enthusiast and a CrossFit endurer who enjoys fishing, sports, movies, TV series with continuing storylines, and of course, reading. Most inconsequentially, he holds the unrecognized distinction of being one of the few people in the world who have been paid to watch concrete dry in the dark. Tragically, that is a true statement.

Welcome, Carlyle. Please tell us about your current release.

The Black Song Inside was written to be a fast-paced crime thriller that was somewhat dark but often humorous with flawed protagonists you can root for as well intriguing and frightening villainous villains. Sand Diego based Private Investigators Atticus Wynn and Rosemary Sanchez, newly engaged, find themselves in an ever-tightening web of violence when Atticus’s ex-girlfriend uses a secret about Rosemary that Rosemary doesn’t even know to blackmail Atticus into helping her find her boyfriend’s killer and a fortune in drug money. The ensuing investigation pits the PIs  against Lost Lobos Locos, a street gang whose leader is Rosemary’ s little brother, outlaw bikers, an aging Mafiosi, a messianic former child-soldier turned mercenary and a cartel kingpin..

What inspired you to write this book?

I had this idea in my head about the type of story I’d like to read and that I thought other people would want to read. So many thrillers are either dark, or light and funny, and I wanted one that was frightening but also funny because that it makes it really fun to write when you’re going through the gamut of emotions, especially for multiple characters, as well as (hopefully!) fun to read.

What exciting story are you working on next?

I’m working on an Epic Fantasy titled The Riven Tree, and what’s exciting about it is the challenge of creating a world with multiple cultures and weave them all together in a fast-paced tale that spans multiple novels. That allows for much more development of characters and themes. I’m hoping to have The Riven Tree completed this year.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I took a creative writing class at a junior college and one of the assignments was to write a short story that would be read by the teacher without naming the writer. So I was able to study the reaction of the other class members while my story was read and they really enjoyed it. Some were literally on the edge of their seat. That’s when I thought, “Hey, maybe I’ve got something here.” Incidentally, that story was basically the rough draft of the prequel to The Black Song Inside entitled: He’s Faster.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like?  If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

Oh, I wish I could write full time but I’m just a work-a-day stiff. I’m the Assistant Directory of Security at a Fortune 500 company near Chicago.***Teaser Alert**I didn’t stray too far from my childhood aspirations as you’ll see at the end of the interview. Finding time to write is always a challenge. I don’t have a set schedule; it’s big chunks of the weekend and typically in the evening or super early in the morning. I’ve had to forgo the pleasure of sleeping in to find time to write.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

My writing reflect some of my real world views in that I find that many horrible things can be funny if you can just cock your head and squint the right way. It’s the old if you don’t’ laugh, you’ll cry. My antagonists often “mouth” that humor, but they are dead serious about it. It’s just that they have a skewed and often scary world view that to them seems perfectly normally and it’s everyone else who’s crazy, which is always an amusing dynamic for me.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I wanted to be a police officer, or ***Drum Roll Please*** a Private Investigator like Atticus Wynn and Rosemary Sanchez.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?

Yes, I want to thank you Lisa, for sharing your followers with me and all of you followers for sticking with this interview to the end. I hope you’ll check out my novel. It’s free through the tenth!

Thanks, Carlyle.

Author website: http://carlyleclark.wordpress.com/

Title: The Black Song Inside

Genre: Mystery Thriller

Publisher: Make Luck Press

Release Date: November 14^th, 2012

Amazon

Synopsis:

Shortlisted for the 2012 Faulkner-Wisdom Award

Newly engaged private investigators Atticus Wynn and Rosemary Sanchez have seen the dark and violent side of life. Atticus's dry wit is born of a traumatic childhood that's left him emotionally scarred and estranged from his homicide detective sister. The medals Rosemary earned during her tour of duty in Iraq are little reward for returning home to San Diego missing a leg and tormented by PTSD and her continuing failure to save her younger brother from his own violent nature. Still, nothing they've been through has prepared them for an explosive murder investigation that tests the couple's trust as they struggle to solve a case where the best result leaves them in prison or dead.

Atticus's manipulative and gorgeous ex-girlfriend, Claire, bursts back into their lives wielding a secret about Rosemary's family that she exploits to force the couple into investigating the execution-style slaying of her lover. The case thrusts Atticus and Rosemary headlong into the world of human trafficking and drug smuggling as well as rendering them pawns in Tijuana Cartel captain Armando Villanueva's bloody bid to take over the Cartel. Villanueva Machiavellian scheme sends one of his minions, Rosemary's own gangsta brother, after Atticus, and as if that weren't bad enough, Villanueva dispatches "The Priest", a former child soldier for a Colombian rebel group who is now a messianic mercenary whose religious psychosis has launched him on a trajectory that can only end in mayhem.

The Black Song Inside is a vivid crime thriller rife with the murder and madness, melded with gallows humor and the heroism of two flawed protagonists who, in struggling to unravel a skein of human suffering, learn the nature of redemption and the ability to forgive others and themselves.

Excerpt:

Rosemary suppressed a sigh. As the only child of parents who had wanted a brood, her life had been spent as the wobbly point of an inverted pyramid, forever attempting to balance the burden of hopes and expectations meant to be spread over a half-dozen children. Instead, it was only she and her adopted brother Johnny, the mayhem magnet.

“The leg I have now isn’t agile,” Rosemary said, rapping it with her knuckles. “With this new one, I can step over things, walk backward, change directions quickly. I’m no longer stuck just going one way and having a change in direction be a major ordeal. I’ll be free.”

Rosemary maneuvered the X2 case for a better view, marveling at the complexity encompassed in its artistic form. “Come take a look at it.”

Mama stayed put, offering a wan smile. “It’s very fancy.”

Mama sniffed as she levered herself out of the armchair. She pivoted toward the window and pushed the silk drape aside. The waistband of her stretch pants dented her torso. From behind, her hair-sprayed bob seemed smooth and solid, as formidable a protection as the brass dome of a deep-sea diver, the hose stretching from the helmet up to a world of stability, sameness. “So much bad weather this summer.”

Rosemary felt the urge to knead her mother’s shoulders. “You could change, Mama.”

Her mother’s neck stiffened. Still looking away, she shook her head. “I happen to like who I am.”

Ah, and there it was, the roundabout implication that Rosemary was somehow betraying Mama by being with Atticus—the only thing that had set the pyramid to wobbling as much as her joining the Army Reserves. Hadn’t Mama’s fears been grimly vindicated when an IED exploded under the Humvee she was driving? Didn’t she have an “I told you so” moment when the explosion transformed the man who’d been next to her in the front seat, Specialist First-Class Yukio Morimitu, an always smiling human being with a new bride and a child on the way, into a spatter of blood and bone clumped in her hair, clogging her ears and nose, and filling her mouth with gobbets of flesh.

Rosemary hobble-stepped to the window, leaned against the sill, and put her arm around Mama’s shoulders. Lightning flickered in the lining of steel gray clouds. “More rain coming,” Rosemary said. “Maybe you better go now.”

“I rearranged my day so I can take you to rehab. We could have lunch, relax, then go.” She studied Rosemary’s face a moment and squinted. “What? You don’t want me?”

Rosemary forced her expression to be neutral. “Of course I do, but you said you couldn’t go, so I asked Atticus.”

“So. You’d rather have him than your own mother.”

“Oh for God’s sake. I asked you to take me first. You said you were busy.”

“So Atticus can’t change his schedule?” The sky cast a greenish tinge on Mama’s face.

Here we go again, Rosemary thought. Countdown…three…two…one…

“Atticus, Atticus, always Atticus. I’m sick of hearing his name.”

“Blastoff.”

“What?” Mama blinked.

“Cape Fucking Canaveral.” Rosemary shuffled back to her bed.

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Interview with Don McNair author of "Editor-Proof Your Writing"

Today's guest is professional writer and editor, Don McNair. He's sharing a bit about his newest book, Editor-Proof Your Writing: 21 Steps to the Clear Prose Publishers and Agents Crave.

Don will be giving away winner's choice of any of his backlist books to a lucky commentor during the tour. Make sure to leave an e-maill address with your comment below if you want a chance to win. And if you'd like to increase your chances, you can visit other tour stops Don is making and leave comments there.

Bio:

Don McNair spent his working life editing magazines (eleven years), producing public relations materials for an international PR company (six years), and heading his own marketing communications firm, McNair Marketing Communications (twenty-one years). His creativity has won him three Golden Trumpets for best industrial relations programs from the Publicity Club of Chicago, a certificate of merit award for a quarterly magazine he wrote and produced, and the Public Relations Society of America’s Silver Anvil. The latter is comparable to the Emmy and Oscar in other industries.

Don has written and placed hundreds of trade magazine articles and four published non-fiction how-to books. He considers his latest, Editor-Proof Your Writing: 21 Steps to the Clear Prose Publishers and Agents Crave, to be the cap of his forty-year writing and editing career. It’s an easy-to-use editing manual that helps writers edit, step by step, their first chapter, then use the knowledge gained to edit the rest of their work.

Don has also written six novels; two young adults (Attack of the Killer Prom Dresses and The Long Hunter), three romantic suspenses (Mystery on Firefly Knob, Mystery at Magnolia Mansion, and co-authored Waiting for Backup!), and a romantic comedy (BJ, Milo, and the Hairdo from Heck). All are published internationally, and are available at his website, http://DonMcNair.com .

Don, a member of Romance Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, and the Editorial Freelancers Association, now concentrates on editing novels for others. He teaches two online editing classes.

Welcome, Don. Please tell us about your current release.

My newest book, released April 1 by Quill Drivers Books, is titled Editor-Proof Your Writing: 21 Steps to the Clear Prose Agents and Publishers Crave. It’s based on what I’ve learned in my lifelong career of writing and editing. I was a magazine editor for eleven years, a public relations professional for a major PR company for six, and ran my own marketing communications company for 21.

What inspired you to write this book?

The idea for it came several years ago on a flight from Chicago to Atlanta, where I was to research an article for a client. Out of boredom I was reading a fog-filled paperback, and realized the same editing mistakes appeared over and over. I was intrigued. I bought another paperback at the Atlanta airport and edited it on the way home. A pattern emerged, and I became excited. Had I discovered the writer’s Rosetta stone?

Over the next several months I edited many other paperback novels. I joined critique groups, judged writing contests, figuratively tackled new writers on the streets, aggressively editing their fiction. I next plowed through all those manuscripts from pre-published authors and the marked-up paperback books I'd tossed into a dresser drawer and painstakingly sorted thousands of offending sentences and other problems by type. I eventually identified 21 distinct problems. Today I call their solutions, appropriately enough, the 21 Steps to Fog-Free Writing.

The inference staggered me. Just as there are a specific number of elements in chemistry’s Periodic Table and letters in the alphabet, there’s also a specific number of fog problems in writing. I realized many unnecessary words are actually tips of bad-writing icebergs, and that eliminating them resolves otherwise complicated editing problems. In fact, almost half the Steps actually strengthen action while shortening sentences.

Does the book cover things other than taking words out?

Yes. Taking them out was my initial thrust, but I soon realized putting words in properly was as important. So I divided the book into three sections: Putting Words In, Taking Words Out, and Sharing Your Words. The latter discusses finding and working with critique partners, professional editors, publishers, and agents.

How did you know your editing system worked?

Because I field-tested it in two online writing classes, over three years. One was “Editor-Proof That First Chapter” (putting words in), the other was “21 Steps to Fog-Free Writing” (taking words out). The feedback was phenomenal, and I realized I was on to something. I include comments from enthused students in the book’s opening pages.

Excerpt:

Unpublished writer “Barbara Stevens” asked me to critique and edit her newest unpublished novel’s first chapter. “I’ve written twelve other manuscripts,” she said, “and they’ve been rejected a lot of times. I hope you can figure out what’s wrong.”

Well, I did figure it out, and quickly. This lady was basically a good writer. Her blogs sparkled, she dreamed up creative plots, and her heart was certainly in her work. But she’d made a major craft mistake in that chapter and, presumably, in all twelve of those manuscripts. It was a mistake that almost guaranteed she’d never be published.

We discussed her problem (we’ll get back to that later), and the light bulb over her head glowed brilliantly. She rewrote that first chapter and I edited it again, and, as if by magic, it became publishable. Barbara used her new-found knowledge to revise the rest of that manuscript, followed by her twelve other novels. Within two months she sold one, and she’s now been published many times. She’s on her way.

The point? Barbara’s breakthrough came directly from correcting that one craft mistake. She’d made it time and time again and was destined to repeat it again and again, until someone told her what it was.

You may be making that same mistake. Or perhaps you’re making another equally deadly one—mistakes we’ll identify and resolve in this book—and are not aware of it. But there’s hope.

There are other self-editing books out there. In what ways is yours different? Better?

From my viewpoint as a professional fiction editor, the biggest roadblock most writers have is simply this: They have no clue about what their editing problems are! And if they don’t know them, how can they solve them?

There’s a lot of advice out there, of course, but I found that little of it is of practical value to the beginning writer. Most editing manuals are like geography books that give great information but don’t show how to get from place to place. They’re like dictionaries from which one is asked to select words to write the Great American Novel. Well, if you don’t know what your writing problems are, how do you know what in those big books you should apply?

What writers need first, before they delve into bucketsful of unrelated jargon, is a practical way to identify their specific editing problems. And that’s the premise of the new book. It helps writers identify their problems, Step by Step, then shows them how to resolve each one.

Would you give us an example of how your “21 Step” editing system works?

Using this system is simple. Readers apply the 21 Steps one at a time, to only the first chapter of their Work in Progress or that manuscript publishers insist on returning to them. Then, based on that experience, they’ll finish the manuscript.

Step 3 of the 21 Steps, for example, involves changing passive voice to active voice. They’ll read an explanation and examples of the problem, then read a “Fog Alert!” sidebar that shows several more before-after examples. Next they’ll edit ten problem sentences, and check themselves against solutions in the back of the book. After every two or three Steps they’ll edit a mini-chapter of “Sarah’s Perils,” a tongue-in-cheek melodrama, to find and fix the problems they just studied. Finally, they’ll search their own manuscript’s first chapter for passive sentences—they now know what to look for—and change them to active. With many Steps they’ll learn how to use their word processor’s “search” function to find the problems.

When they’re done with all the Steps, they’ll have a sparkling first chapter ready for that publisher. Now they simply apply that same knowledge to the rest of their manuscript. Students using the 21-Step method in my classes were delighted with the results. They know that every manuscript they write from now on will be clearer and more compelling than any they’ve ever written, for two reasons: they won’t make most of those mistakes in the first place, and they’ll know exactly what to look for when they self-edit. Past students today tell me they refer to those lessons daily as they write. I believe most of the book’s users will keep it next to their word processors.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I remember that day vividly. I was in grade school, and the teacher asked us to write a story about Mother’s Day. I turned mine in and the next day the teacher told the class what a great job I’d done, and proceeded to read it. After class a cute little girl with brown curls came up to me and said, “Donnie, I loved your story.” My brain turned to mush and dribbled out my ears, and I was afraid of girls for years after.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

Well, I enjoyed writing, and made up stories for years. But back in the fifties, when I hit puberty and tried to look into the murky future, I told myself I wanted to be the world’s foremost cartoonist. I became the cartoonist for my high school's newspaper, and later for my college paper.

I joined a magazine's editing staff after college and toiled as an editor and writer ever since. In the sixties I drew a daily comic strip called Paradise Park, which featured the goings on in a city park. I offered it to the syndicates, and learned their estimation of its value differed from mine. A couple months ago, while cleaning out a storage shed, I ran across those strips. Hey, they didn't look bad! Just for grins, I’ve featured the strips on my website. You can find them at http://DonMcNair.com .

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

I’ve written six novels and four how-to books, but my current work is editing for others. I roll out of bed and hit the computer, and work until lunch. I enjoy being able to work from home, doing something I love. When I worked for the magazines and PR agencies I did so in suit and tie, and attended conferences and board meetings, and had to be my best every day. I consider that experience the penitence for what I do now.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Unlike many writers, I keep track of my time in fifteen-minute increments, and that keeps me on target. I picked up that habit in my previous working life, where I billed my work out to my clients in fifteen-minute chunks. It was a good way to keep the muse working with me—and defeating writers’ block—since I had to justify my time with a detailed report of progress.

Thank you, Don.

Readers, don't forget to leave an e-mail with a comment below if you'd like a chance to win your choice of any book from Don's backlist. And if you'd like to increase your chances, you can visit other tour stops Don is making and leave comments there.

Book promo stop for I Don't Sing Anymore by April Williams

I Don't Sing Anymore

by April Williams

About The Author:

April Williams was born in Bainbridge, Georgia in August of 1974. The fourth child born to her mother, a fieldworker and a father, a brick mason. When she was just a toddler, her mother relocated the family to Florida and settled in the All-American city of South Miami. April attended all the local schools including Miami-Dade Community College.

April was an active volunteer in her community. For years working on programs including the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Annual Celebrations, and many South Miami Community Outreach Gospel Programs. Along with her writing, singing she has always been a passion. She was one of the founding members for the Miracle Voice Ensemble.

Many years ago, her pen was her way of escaping some of the hard times she has faced. She discovered that she could live victoriously and help others by writing about her experiences, triumphs and pains. April’s writing brings concrete reality to the issues within the 21st Century world. She exhorts and motivates her readers to remain constant and dedicated to their passions.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Publsiher: Self-Published at CreateSpace

Release Date: July 29, 2012

Amazon

Book Description:

Josie Gibbs is a young woman who works in the cotton fields of Fowlstown, Georgia. She has had three failed relationships all producing offspring.  She only now wants to concentrate on finding a better life for her young family. But her circumstances quickly change when Keith Anderson, May’s father, result to terrifying acts of violence. She is now forced to leave and find a new life in the big city of Miami, Florida.

Keith Anderson is a war veteran who vows to be with Josie at all cost. But the demons of war he has in his mind continue to haunt him. He hasn’t had a peaceful night of sleep in spite of his addiction. His life spirals out of control when his dreams manifest to reality and will cost him everything.

May Gibbs is their daughter who will struggle with the effects of physical and sexual abuse. The path she walks is full of pain and leads her to live a joyless life. What can be done to save this creature that seemed to be doomed from the day she was born?

I Don’t Sing Anymore is a story of a family who battle through all of life’s circumstances. We don’t always know our path in life but we do have a say in how we get to live it. A heartbreaking tale drenched with every kind of emotion you can imagine.

Excerpt: Chapter Eleven

Josie was so excited that John was going to be stopping by before he headed back up to the base. She chose to put on a white sundress that draped so beautifully below her shoulders. She had her hair up in a ponytail that made her look younger. The children were outback playing with Peeps. Josie was excited when she heard the knock on the door. She opened the door to find John standing there in his uniform. The first thing John did was to pick her up in a strong bear hug and plant a nice big kiss on her lips. John was excited just to hold her again. Josie moved away from John as Mrs. Freda appeared in the living room. “Mom, this is Mr. John Flenn. Mrs. Freda did not hesitate to shake his hand. She walked over to her rocking chair and picked up the snuff can. She used to spit out her tobacco. Mrs. Freda sat quiet for a moment before she decided to ask John some questions.

“So, Mr. Flenn where are your people from?” she asked.

Well, we are originally from Attapulgus, but my father lived in Tennessee for a while.

“What does he do now?” she asked

“He is a retired Lieutenant from the Air Force.” He said.

“Are most of the men in your family military?” she asked

“Yes, we can trace our history back to the Civil War” he said.

“Well, I think that is just fine.” Mrs. Freda said,

“Thank you, my father was part of the Tuskegee Airmen.,” he said.

“Is that right?” she said.

Josie gave John a great big smile. She did not know he had a long line of military men in his family. John picked up her hand to hold in his hand.  He wanted to hold her so much, right now.

“Mr. Flenn would you like some sweet tea?” Mrs. Freda asked.

“That would be just great Mrs. Gibbs.,” he said.

As soon as she got up out of rocking chair a loud knock on the door. Josie got up to open the door. She was shocked to see the man standing there in a Sunday morning suit.

“Hello, Josie.” Keith said.

Josie just did not know what to do. She did not know whether to slam the door or just say come in. Mrs. Freda recognized the voice right away. Keith stepped inside the door without an invite. Josie nervously closed the door behind him. John stood up to shake Keith’s hand. The smirk Keith had on his face faded quickly as he shook John’s hand. Josie made the introductions.

“Keith, this is my friend Private John Flenn.,” she said as her voice cracked.

“Afternoon” Keith said.

Mrs. Freda returned from the kitchen with the glass of ice tea. She could feel the mood of the room shift, quickly.

“John this is Keith, he is May’s father,” she said.

Josie rushed from the room to wake May so that Keith would be able to hold her. Mrs. Freda’s eyes became fixated on him. She could see the vein popping out of his neck. It was obvious to her that he was furious to see Josie there with another man.

“Keith would you like some sweet tea?” she asked him.

“No, thank you.” he said with a great deal of restraint.

Josie appeared from the back and placed May in Keith’s arm. He had not seen her since the night she was born. She was big baby now. May started crying soon as Josie put her in his arms. This only infuriated Keith even more. Keith could not take it anymore. And before anyone knew it, he jumped with the baby in his arms and headed for the door.

“Where are you going with my baby?” Josie asked

“Move out of my way you whore!” he screamed.

John jumped to his feet to protect Josie and the baby.

“You are not leaving with the child.” He said.

John was careful as he grabbed Keith’s free arm.

“You better get your damn hands off me.” Keith said.

Mrs. Freda moved towards Keith and said give me the baby. You don’t want that kind of trouble.

Keith stared at the baby for a second and handed her to Mrs. Freda. John followed him out of the door.

“You ain’t nobody.” Keith shouted at John.

Josie stood at the side of her man. She was wishing that he just get in his truck and drive away. Keith did not intend to leave quietly.

“You ain’t nothing but a punk!” he continued to shout.

John did not utter a word because he did not want another confrontation. But that quickly changed when he began to curse Josie.

“Witch” he said.

John had left Josie’s side before she could call his name. Even if she had it was too late. The two men were now in a fistfight. Both men matched blow_ for_ blow. Keith being a marine had more skill. Josie could see the fight turning in favor of Keith. She was almost frozen and not knowing what to do. Mrs. Freda appeared with her shotgun and fired off one around. The two men stopped in their tracks. The children came screaming and hollering from the back. Now Mrs. Freda had her sight on Keith.

“You had better get off my property,” she said.

Keith straightened himself up and walked over to his truck. He spit on the ground just before leaving. Josie rushed to John’s side. She could see how upset he was.

“John are you O.K.?” she asked.

I’m fine!” he snapped.

Mrs. Freda did not like the way he said this.

“Young man, I think you better be leaving now, because Keith is crazy enough to comeback,” she said.

ohn walked over to his car and Josie followed with her head down. She was so embarrassed by the entire incident. John turned around to look at her in the eyes. He lifted her chin. “Haven’t I told you not to hide your beautiful eyes from me.” he said. Josie managed to give his a slight smile.

“Don’t worry it is not your fault.” he said.

He leaned forward and kissed her good-bye. Josie stood on the porch alone, retreating inside.

John was listening to music as he drove down highway 309. He was trying to calm down while listening to music. Then he noticed a truck driving up fast and close to his bumper. John began to speed up to try to get away from the truck. He kept checking his rearview mirror and finally realized that it was Keith. John felt it as Keith rammed the back of his car with the truck. John slid off the road into a ditch. He was a little bit dazed but he soon saw Keith running towards his car. Keith had lit a bottle of vodka that he had in his truck. John saw the flames gushing from the white rag. He knew he had to move quickly. John managed to get out the passenger seat window. Just as he did, he heard the bottle crash against the car. Keith realized that John had escaped the car. He ran back towards his truck to get his rifle. By the time he returned he could no longer see John in the rows of cotton that never seemed to end.

Keith spit on the ground as John’s car went up in flames. He was so proud of the fact that he had taken something from him. John stopped running somewhere in the middle of the field. He had a watchful eye as he headed back towards the road. He took off his military jacket and started walking back towards Josie’s house. He was only about six miles away and it would not take him that long. John walked at a rapid pace as he continued to look over his shoulder.

Giveaway:

3 Signed Paperbacks

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Book promo stop for Beneath Southern Skies by Terra Little

Beneath Southern Skies

by Terra Little

About The Author: 

Terra Little is a native of Missouri, where she currently resides and works as a secondary English Literature teacher. She is a critically acclaimed contemporary, romantic, and women's fiction author, and also an avid reader. In 2009, "Where There's Smoke", Terra's sophomore literary effort, was named a Best Book by Library Journal. Prior to this honor, as well as in the aftermath of it, Terra's work has been recognized by numerous book clubs and book reviewers, including Kirkus Reviews, The San Francisco Book Review, Fresh Fiction and The Romantic Times.

Website | Blog | Facebook Fan Page | 

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PUBLISHER: Harlequin Kimani Press

PUBLICATION DATE: April 1, 2013

GENRE: Romance

AMAZON 

BACK COVER BLURB:

A little Southern comfort goes a long way…

To the world she's Vanessa Valentino, the poison-penned gossip columnist and blogger, but back in Georgia, she's just Tressie Valentine. After digging up one scandalous secret too many, she's forced back home to the sleepy town she thought she'd left behind forever. And now she must face Nathaniel Woodberry, who became her sworn enemy when one of her stories hit too close to home. Yet for some reason, Tressie can't turn off her longing for the irresistible investigative journalist.

Nate can't believe Tressie's back to wreak havoc on the close-knit community they both grew up in, and he can't help holding a grudge against her past deeds. But soon the commitment-wary bachelor discovers that the Southern belle is still a compassionate, loving woman. Nate finds himself drawn to her and he can't stop thinking about seducing her with a healthy dose of down-home passion. But can he stop Tressie from making a mistake that could destroy their hometown—and their blossoming love?

Excerpt #1

The shower.

It was going full blast and she was singing along with the water’s spray. No, that wasn’t quite right. Actually she was singing—horribly—over and above the water’s spray.

The sound of her voice scraped across his nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard, spiking his irritation level into orbit. Without stopping to think about what he was doing, he barged into the steamy bathroom and snatched the shower curtain back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he bellowed.

She turned just as a blast of cool air slammed into her skin, and then visions of warriors rushing in for battle flashed before her eyes—big, strapping men with bulging muscles, bloodthirsty expressions on their faces, and mighty swords slicing through the air. She saw herself being impaled to death and then buried in a shallow grave deep in the woods, where no one would ever find her. She saw, as plain as day, the likelihood that no one would even bother to look for her because the sad fact was that she wasn’t the most popular person in the world and she had no real friends to speak of. Every questionable deed that she’d ever done played before her eyes like a movie. Her killer would go unpunished and her death would be in vain. The public would probably celebrate once her true identity was revealed. They would—

Oh God. She was going to die.

Partially blinded by soap bubbles and completely on the verge of hysteria, Tressie opened her mouth and did the only thing she could think to do under the circumstances. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

It seemed like an eternity, but it really took only a few seconds to wipe the soap bubbles from her eyes and focus. When she did, the first thing she saw through the steam was a pair of gorgeous hazel eyes staring into hers. Expanding her gaze to a wide-screen view, she took in a pair of perfectly shaped lips and a dimpled chin, thick eyebrows and smooth pecan-brown skin. Something in her brain eventually clicked and she recognized Nate Woodberry, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to scream like a banshee. The only difference was that this time the sounds she made were intelligible. “What the hell,” she shrieked frantically as she snatched the shower curtain from his grasp and wrapped it around her body, “are you doing in here?”

“I rang the bell. You didn’t answer.” He was the epitome of calm.

“So you just walk right on in and make yourself at home?” She slung her wet hair back and out of her face and shut off the water. “Idiot! Hand me a towel from over there, would you?” She snatched the towel he handed her and only released her death grip on the shower curtain long enough to make the trade. The fact that he had undoubtedly seen more of her naked body in the past thirty seconds than her doctor had in years burned her skin to a cherry-red crisp, especially since he hadn’t so much as given it a second glance in all that time. So much for cutting back on sweets and working out like a demon.

Giveaway:

2 $10 Gift Cards To Winners Choice of Amazon or Barnes and Noble

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Virtual book blast stop for Identity Crisis by Eliza Daly

Today is a virtual book blast tour stop for romantic suspense author Eliza Daly as she promotes her novel Identity Crisis.

Eliza will be awarding one $20 Amazon or Barnes & Noble gift card to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a $10 Amazon or Barnes & Noble gift card, winner's choice, to four (4) randomly drawn commenters during the tour.

Identity Crisis

by Eliza Daly

Blurb:

When Olivia Doyle’s father dies under suspicious circumstances, rather than inheriting a family fortune, she inherits a new identity. She learns they were placed in the Federal Witness Protection Program when she was five years old. Her father was involved in an art forgery ring and testified against the mob. Brought up not to trust anyone, Olivia has a difficult time relying on U.S. Marshal Ethan Ryder to protect her, and to keep her secret. She fears her father may have continued his life of crime through her art gallery. She has little choice but to depend on Ethan when she realizes someone is now after her. Olivia’s search for the truth leads her and Ethan across country to a family and past she doesn’t remember.

At the age of ten, Ethan witnessed a brutal murder. He vowed when he grew up, he’d protect people in danger. Protecting Olivia is difficult when she won’t trust him. He soon realizes his desire to protect her goes beyond doing his job, but if his judgment becomes clouded by emotions, her safety could be jeopardized.

Can Ethan and Olivia learn to trust each other when they uncover secrets that will change their lives forever?

Excerpt:

The footsteps drew closer. Her breathing quickened. The intruder paused outside the door and she held her breath, a death grip on the pepper spray. The barrel of a gun appeared through the doorway, followed by a man. In that split second, she blasted him with a steady stream. 

“Shit!” he yelled, snapping his head away from the line of fire.

Unsure if she’d made a direct hit, she flew past him, still spraying the air behind her. Although it wasn’t a blanket mist, she couldn’t help but inhale some of the toxic vapors in the air. Her eyes burned slightly and she coughed, racing down the hallway and across the open foyer.

She was almost to the door when the guy yelled out in a raspy voice, “Touch that door handle and I’ll shoot it off.”

She came to a screeching halt, unsure if he planned on aiming for the handle or her hand. The blood pulsating in her ears muffled the roar of the lawn mower as it passed by near a window. Nobody would hear her scream. She eyed the security alarm keypad on the wall by the door. Two quick steps and she could hit the panic button. Two quick steps and she might get shot. She slowly turned around, her gaze locking on the gun pointed at her from the opposite side of the foyer. Sheer panic pressed against her chest, and she sucked in a deep breath. 

The guy cleared his throat. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He cautiously lowered the gun, but didn’t holster it. “Unless you spray that crap again.” He blinked rapidly and ran a hand up over the top of his head, sweeping back a clump of wet hair. Her aim had obviously been off. It was impossible to spray straight when her body was shaking uncontrollably.

The guy’s dark hair was just shy of touching his shoulders and he had a five o’clock shadow. A black T-shirt covered his broad chest and faded, relaxed fitting jeans contradicted his rigid stance. A scar across his cheekbone, and a thin one slashing his eyebrow, added to his don’t mess with me look.

“I’m Ethan Ryder with the U.S. Marshals.” The man flashed a badge, then slipped it back in his pants’ pocket.

If the mob had hunted down her dad, who was to say it hadn’t been through a U.S. Marshal snitch? He’d trusted Roy Howard, not Ethan Ryder. Maybe he wasn’t even with the U.S. Marshals. Rather coincidental that he showed up right after a robbery.

“I assume you’re Olivia Doyle?”

At the back of her mind she heard her dad’s voice. Don’t trust him, Livvy. Be leery of people you know and certainly don’t trust someone you don’t know.

Author Bio and Links:

Eliza Daly’s first attempt at creative writing was in fourth grade. She and her friends were huge Charlie’s Angels fans and she would sit in her bedroom at night writing scripts for them to act out at recess the following day. She was Kelly Garrett. Fast forward to the present, she’s still writing stories about beautiful women who always get their men. The journey from fourth grade script writer to published author wasn’t an easy one, but it was always an adventure and the final destination was well worth it.

When Eliza isn’t traveling for her job as an event planner, or tracing her ancestry roots through Ireland, she’s at home in Milwaukee working on her next novel, bouncing ideas off her husband Mark, and her cats Quigley, Frankie, and Sammy.

You can find Eliza on the Web at:

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Identity Crisis is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, All Romance, eBooks.com, and Kobo

Interview with horror/sci-fi author Barbara Custer

Dark fiction/sci-fi author Barbara Custer is here to tell us a bit about her novel Steel Rose.

Barbara is going to award one randomly drawn commenter at every stop a backlist e-book – City of Brotherly Death or Twilight Healer – or one of her Night to Dawn magazines, and one randomly drawn commenter on the tour will receive a $15.00 gift certificate to Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks, winner's choice. To increase your chances of winning, visit other tour stops and leave comments.

Bio:

Barbara lives near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where she works full time as a respiratory therapist. When she’s not working with her patients, she’s enjoying a fright flick or working on horror and science fiction tales. Her short stories have appeared in numerous small press magazines. She’s published Night to Dawn magazine since 2004.

Other books by Barbara include Twilight Healer and City of Brotherly Death. She’s also coauthored Alien Worlds and Starship Invasions with Tom Johnson. She enjoys bringing her medical background to the printed page, and then blending it with supernatural horror. She maintains a presence on Facebook, Linkedin, Twitter, and The Writers Coffeehouse forum. Look for the photos with the Mylar balloons, and you’ll find her.

Welcome, Barbara. Please tell us about your current release.

The story opens with protagonist Alexis searching for a cure for her debilitating illness. Her search lands her in open combat with zombies and renegade aliens. Yeron, her doctor and a Kryszka refugee, develops a drug to control her arthritis, but her weakness prohibits her from handling most weapons. Yeron is determined to practice human medicine, but most people fear him. Alexis, his patient, is afraid, too…until his seductive attentions profoundly arouse her. Although Alexis is an adult, she has growing to do if she wants to survive, and she learns painful lessons about love and war. The Kryszka soldiers and zombies who break into the hospital are hungry. So very hungry. How will she fight them?

What inspired you to write this book?

Before I wrote it, I had severe arthritis in both wrists and needed reconstruction for both. I had Walter Mitty fantasies of science coming up with an easy operation or drug that would rebuild cartilage. Yeron’s clinical trials were among those fantasies. I was also caring for my husband who has Parkinson’s disease. During that year, I read about Efren Saldivar, a respiratory therapist who’d been convicted of killing six patients with Pavulon, a drug that stops a patient’s respirations when they’re about to go on a ventilator. All of this left me a lot of material to write Steel Rose and a sequel.

Excerpt:

Shattering glass. Plodding footsteps. IV poles crashed to the floor. Glass shards tinkled, punctuated by low-pitched groaning from the rear elevator, the exit Hoffman had claimed to seal.

“Dear God, help us.” Alexis reached for her gun.

“What are you doing? Guns are forbidden on this floor, and…Oh, my God!” Ms. Grese cupped her hands over her mouth. Her authoritarian demeanor vanished, replaced by horror-stricken pallor. “Where are the officers?”

“You think our visitors give a shit?” Alexis scuttled toward the door, feeling vulnerable. The vest didn’t protect her face or hands, but the intruders wouldn’t care about that either. She shoved Ms. Grese ahead of her, pushing with her mind, Yeron beside her. “Run!” she hollered.

As the creatures poured through the ward, a stench crawled down her throat, the stink of things many days dead. Moaning drowned out the sound of Ms. Grese’s cries, a continual chant of “hungry.”

Skeletal figures in tattered rags skirted around Mark, who fired at any who got too close. Their tendons flashed gray against cold cobwebs of rib and knuckle. The flesh that quivered through widened skin tears had the sheen of rotting meat. The skin resembled cracked leather. Weeds sprouted on some of the figures’ necks and hair, the way they did in her nightmares. They made their way to the desk, where two nurses sat. The two women jumped up, both screaming. One of them opened fire with a Glock.

The armed woman was her mother.

What exciting story are you working on next?

Blood Moon Rising, the sequel to Steel Rose. Alexis goes on the road with Yeron, Shively, Mark, Tyrone, and Johnny to kick some serious zombie ass. But they run into complications and lethal injuries. Alexis’s beloved mother gets caught in the crossfire. The romance between Alexis and Yeron blossoms but before they can make any commitments, they have to stay alive. I hope to finish this book before the year’s up.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I tried my hand at writing in 1976, when I was going through a rough patch. I had no college at the time, and the writing quality was raw. I couldn’t afford to go back to school. Fast forward to 1990, after my mother’s death, Kelly, a collage instructor, encouraged me to journal and write stories to turn over the grief I felt over my mother’s death. The stories began to appear in small press magazines. At that point, I took my writing seriously.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?

I have a day job, so I make time to write in the evenings and on my days off. Writing could be blogging, writing stuff for the Night to Dawn Magazine, and of course, my work in progress. I get up about five for the day job. I eat supper when I come home. That leaves me about two to three hours for writing in the evening.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

I love Mylar balloons. They take on a life of their own, and some of my stories, including Steel Rose, have scenes involving Mylar balloons. Sometimes I’m at my best when I keep a well filled Mylar balloon standing over me. The balloon is like an instructor making sure I concentrate on my work and not daydream.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I wanted to be an actress. I fantasized about being a nurse, too, but I really wanted to be in the movies.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers? Well, I’m gonna let you in on something I rarely discuss at interviews. Most people who write horror are trying to face secret fears, and that goes for me, too. I’ve feared skeletons since I was ten, when I saw a mummy up close and personal, sitting up in a sarcophagus, waving her arm. Later on, I’d realized that the entertainer was using props to make the body move, but at the time, all I understood was that this mummy was reaching for me. I tore out of that pavilion fast. You can get the details about my encounter here.

Fast forward to college, Kelly taught us in an anatomy room, which had a skeleton in the back. Each time I showed up for class, I draped my coat and scarf over the skeleton so I wouldn’t have to look at it. She recommended that I start journaling about my fear, and I began turning out short stories about zombies and walking dead.

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Thanks, Barbara. Readers, don't forget about the giveaway gifts! Leave an e-mail with your comment for a chance to win.