Please help me welcome today’s guest, Karen Hulene Bartell…
Today is RELEASE DAY for INDIGO, and I’m so excited! Indigo is a fictional story based on true events. Basically, it’s what actually happened to a friend (and me) amplified by my imagination 😉
My parents moved often, so I’m from a little bit of everywhere. But I did live in Northern Wisconsin for a few years, and I chose that setting for Indigo. Now I live in the Piney Woods of Texas with my husband and *mews*–three rescued cats and a rescued CATahoula Leopard dog, who played a large role in the creation of Indigo.
I’d never written a story about cryptids before. (Fox Tale contained a shapeshifter, but that fact wasn’t as central to the story as were the characters themselves.) I got the idea for Indigo while walking my dog past a cemetery, where several odd occurrences happened. The title Indigo rhymes with windigo (the creature), and it happens to be the name of the nearest street. The story line for Indigo was born when a neighbor shared her experiences in another cemetery. Since this was my first writing attempt involving mythical creatures, the hardest part was making the legendary sound possible.
After encountering a Northwoods hunk, unscrupulous realtors, bloodthirsty prowlers, and a dysfunctional family, of which one member–according to windigo legends–never left, is Raluca at risk of losing her heart, her inheritance, or her mind?
Blurb:
Reeling after her fiancé dumps her, Raluca Olson inherits a rustic cabin from an unknown relative. Eerie incidents and rumors of a mythical windigo alarm her, but she’s determined to learn the truth about her dysfunctional family before she flips the property.
Despite unscrupulous realtors, bloodthirsty prowlers, and a devious ex, her life improves with a rescued puppy, and passion ignites when she meets Dylan McCoombs, but…
What does a demonic half-beast share with a psychosis and porphyria? Are monsters born or formed? Nature or nurture? Is a windigo spirit genetic? More importantly, does she carry the gene?
Excerpt:
A strong gust of wind wailed through the oak tree. The rusty sign over the cemetery’s entrance squeaked as it rocked back and forth. Then a series of quick knocks sounded–like rapping at a door.
“What was that?” I stopped so fast, my feet slid on the pebbles.
“Ghosts?” Bree gave a mischievous snort.
A swaying pine bough above a shelter caught my attention. “That or pinecones dropping on a metal roof.”
Close by was an imposing grave with an ornate headstone: Jacques Marchand 1803-1849. Large stone blocks marked the fenced-in plot’s four corners, and seven surrounding tombstones bore the same surname. “Wild guess…Marchand is a big name here?”
Heather nodded. “One of the area’s founding families…a few descendants still live nearby.” Pointing at the wide swathes of burned rubber on the asphalt, she lowered her voice. “Supposedly, a certain family member never left…”
“What do you mean?”
“Some say a ghost appears along this road at dusk. Others describe it as a hellhound. The driver swerves to avoid it, and the ghost / hound vanishes.”
“Some say…” I dipped my chin to mask my skepticism. “Urban legends?”
“Un-uh.” Shaking her head, Bree grinned. “Olivia made those marks. She’s my bestie, and no ghost or dog was involved–just a squirrel with a death wish–but that…” Bree pointed to a stone chair. “That’s the devil’s chair, and it’s legit.”
“Chair? You mean throne.” I gaped at the elaborate carving. “But since it faces the headstone, it’s probably for the family to sit and reflect.”
Heather agreed with a nod. “A mourning chair.”
“Maybe originally.” Bree shrugged. “But now, it’s where kids test their courage…especially at midnight.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “It’s there to pay your respects, not be an invitation to an initiation.”
“It’s legend tripping.” An impish gleam lit Bree’s eyes.
“Don’t get any ideas about nighttime dares, young lady.”
“Oh, mother…” What began as a disgusted groan blossomed into a delighted squeal as a four-by-four truck rumbled into view. Waving her arms, Bree flagged it to a stop. “Dylan!”
The pickup slowed as the driver lowered the passenger window. “Hello Bree, Heather.” He ducked, so the walkers could see his face, then with a slight nod, caught my gaze. “Headed into town?”
“Yeah, can you give us a ride?” Bree had already opened the cab door and claimed the front seat. “You coming, Mom?”
Heather started to speak, sighed, then turned toward me. “Want to join us for breakfast?”
“No, thanks, I’m just a coffee person.” I shook my head, not wanting to intrude. “Next time.”
“Have you met our property manager yet?” Climbing in the back, Heather addressed the driver. “Dylan, this is Raluca. She just moved into–”
“Winny Nelson’s cabin. I’ve been expecting you.” Nodding, he handed Bree a business card and motioning to pass it on. “Let me know if you need anything or have any questions.”
The girl brushed against his shoulder before handing me his card.
Dylan McCoombs…Pretending to skim his info, I surveyed the person. Thick, curly hair, square jaw, full lips, and gunmetal-blue-gray eyes. No wonder Bree’s crushing. “Will do. Thanks.”
With a wave, he signaled and pulled on the road.
Questions, huh? I scanned the card. What can you tell me about Winny Nelson?
****
Buy link(s):
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/3kRlWn
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Indigo-Cryptid-Charisma-Hulene-Bartell-ebook/dp/B0GHZHM1WQ
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/indigo-karen-hulene-bartell/1149708480
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/indigo-by-karen-hulene-bartell
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/249818067-indigo
Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/search/?query=9781509265251
BooksAMillion: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/9781509265251
Indie Bound: https://bookshop.org/p/books/indigo-karen-hulene-bartell/d36bdd344e121211
iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/indigo/id6760712664
About the Author:
The author of 29 published books and Indigo, Karen Hulene Bartell was born to rolling-stone parents who moved annually. Her earliest playmates were fictional friends in books. Paperbacks became her portable pals. Ghost stories kept her up at night–reading feverishly. Novels offered an imaginative escape, and she began her first novel at nine, learning the joys of creating her own HEAs. Professor emeritus of the University of Texas at Austin, she lives in the Texas Piney Woods with her husband and *mews*–three rescued cats and a rescued CATahoula Leopard dog.
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Website: http://www.KarenHuleneBartell.com/
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Author Alicia Dean 