August 4, 2025 · 5:34 am

The Spotlight Is On… Diana Rubino and CROWNED BY LOVE, Book One of The Yorkist Saga

Please help me welcome today’s guest, Diana Rubino…

CROWNED BY LOVE, Book One of The Yorkist Saga

After Richard III is slain in battle, a beautiful orphan finds true love and her true family, to her relief—and horror.

England, 1471

Beautiful orphaned Denys Woodville is thrust into the center of power politics when her guardian Elizabeth Woodville marries the new king, Edward IV. The Wars of the Roses finally seem to be at an end, with the House of York victorious over the House of Lancaster. 
But not everyone rejoices in King Edward’s victory. Elizabeth and her Woodville clan have clawed their way to power by switching sides throughout the Wars of the Roses. They are always on the lookout for a chance to advance their ambitions, even at the expense of the king’s family and most loyal supporters.

Denys is delighted that the House of York has won, though she detests Elizabeth’s grasping nature. She considers King Edward and his youngest brother Richard, duke of Gloucester, the only real family she ever had. Elizabeth has never given her a hint of who her real parents might have been.

As the walls of the palace start to close in around her, Denys decides to flee the safety of the court in order to seek the truth about her real identity. She longs to find any living family of her own.

Elizabeth marries her off to Valentine Starbury, duke of Norwich, out of spite, but her feelings for him strengthen and bloom into love. He joins her quest to find her family, but with no reliable leads, it becomes hopeless. After King Richard’s devastating death in the Battle of Bosworth, Denys finally reaches her lifelong goal—she finds her family, in a stunning twist of fate.

Scene Three of CROWNED BY LOVE

Denys’s Aunt Elizabeth adopted her, then neglected her to passionately pursue Edward, England’s future king. Edward fell hard, and they married. The new bride had no need of a child, so she sent Denys to Yorkshire, far out of the way.

The childless duke and duchess of Scarborough raised her as the daughter they never had. When the duchess died, the duke sent Denys back to court, unwanted again. Despite having a king and queen for an uncle and aunt, Denys languished, a lost soul. Today, as reunited lovers surrounded her, she stood alone, unwanted. To add to her misery, the knight of her dreams appeared, only to vanish. Such was her life as an outsider.

Her lady-in-waiting entered, curtsied, and held out a folded parchment embossed with the royal seal. “A page delivered this from her highness the queen, my lady.”

She dismissed the maid. “It can wait.” Probably a summons to one of the queen’s silly musicales, an excuse for court ladies to gossip.

She put the message out of her mind till that eve as her tiring woman stood behind her brushing her hair.

“Jane, please fetch me that royal parchment.” She waved in the direction of her writing table.

Denys broke the seal and unfolded it—a summons, all right—but not to a giddy musicale.

It was a summons to a wedding—her own. Her heart took a sickening lurch.

Her intended was Richard, duke of Gloucester, the king’s youngest brother, her childhood companion. Queen Elizabeth always married relatives off to the cream of nobility, and Richard was the highest ranking bachelor in the kingdom.

Far from her idea of a husband. A brother, yes. A husband—never!

A fastidious prude, he intended to wed his sweetheart Anne Neville.

Denys and Richard played together as children, and renewed their friendship when she returned to court. They played tennis, chess, cards—but play ended at games. Just the thought of kissing him made her shudder.

Now the queen wanted them wed on Christmas Day.

Seething with fury, she strode to the hearth and flung the parchment into the flames. They licked and charred it beyond recognition. She crawled into bed for a long, hard think.

By the time she fell asleep, she’d already thought of several ways out.

How I ‘met’ Richard III

Every Ricardian has a story about how they discovered Richard III and became fascinated with him.

I started researching my first historical, The Jewels of Warwick, centered around Henry VIII and two fictional heroines, in 1990—with no internet (how did I do it?) I have a strong spiritual connection with late medieval England, which is the basis for my enchantment with this place and time. Jewels took 2 years to research and write, with no internet. It came very close to publication with several romance houses, but missed the mark for containing too little romance. When I finished Jewels, I scoured the history books for another legendary figure to write about. While I browsed the Cambridge Library stacks, a book snagged my eye. Lying, not standing, on the wrong shelf was Crown of Roses by Valerie Anand. It drew me like a magnet. Richard III is a central character in the story, and the author thanks the Richard III Society for helping her. Already hooked on Richard, his tragic death at 32 and his reputation as a usurper and a murderer of his little nephews, I joined this Richard III Society. As everyone else who has a story about how they ‘met’ Richard, he fascinated me. I’d found the subject of my next novel! And it tied in perfectly as a prequel to The Jewels of Warwick. Titled Thy Name is Love, it made the same rounds of publishers, remaining homeless after several rewrites and seven years.

In 1999 with the Internet making my life so much easier, I queried the many E-publishers that had recently set up shop, and British publisher Domhan Books responded in March with an offer for my two historicals. Fortunately, Domhan also published print books.

The publisher, Siobhan McNally, published Thy Name is Love because she’s a huge Richard sympathizer.

Purchase CROWNED BY LOVE

getbook.at/CrownedByLove

About Me

My passion for history and travel has taken me to every locale of my books and short stories, set in Medieval and Renaissance England, Paris, Egypt, the Mediterranean, colonial Virginia, New England, Washington D.C. and New York. My urban fantasy romance, FAKIN’ IT, won a Top Pick award from Romantic Times. I’m a member of Romance Writers of America, the Richard III Society and the Aaron Burr Association. My husband Chris and I own CostPro, an engineering firm based in Boston. In my spare time, I bicycle, golf, play my piano, devour books of any genre, and spend as much time as possible living the dream on my beloved Cape Cod.

Contact me at:

My Website

www.dianarubino.com

My Blog

http://www.dianarubinoauthor.blogspot.com

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/DianaRubinoAuthor/?ref=hl

X

https://x.com/DianaLRubino

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July 19, 2025 · 8:11 am

How Two Authors Collaborate ~ New Release: Matthew: Los Angeles Quakes Series, Book 3 by Alisa Jean – #hockeyromance

Please help me welcome today’s guests, C J Bahr and Marla White who are sharing about their collaboration. I’m in awe of writers who can work together to write the same book. I am not sure I could, but let’s see how it came about…

Alisa Jean is what happens when you put two writers together who share a mutual love, bordering on obsession, of hockey.

MARLA: I’m an award-winning cozy mystery writer who prefers to kill people the old-fashioned way – on paper.

C J: And I’m an award-winning writer of supernatural suspense who wreaks havoc in ghostly, demonic, or other-worldly ways with some spicy heat for good measure.

MARLA: Our writing collaboration more or less started the day the L.A. Kings celebrated Dustin Brown’s retirement. So, thanks, Brownie! Before then, I’d seen a hockey game or two, but dang, that puck is hard to follow on TV.

C J: S**t, take her to one live game and a fan is conceived if not fully born. Already a fan of the sport, I got her to watch a season, and soon my friend turned into a shouty, screaming maniac. It’s hilarious to watch.

MARLA: So naturally, we decided to turn our mutual love for the sport into a hockey romance series. Which always invites the question, “How do you write together?” The answer is it’s oddly easier than either of us thought it would be.

C J: Being lifelong best friends certainly helps. We don’t split up the characters, with one of us writing the male hero and the other the female heroine.  Frankly, the idea never occurred to us, and now that I say it, that just sounds…weird.  We basically leapfrog off each other’s work, making changes and approving new words as we go.

MARLA: It works out well, since I prefer to write first thing in the morning for an hour or so before starting my real job.

C J: And I prefer to write in the afternoon. So I’ll read and edit what she wrote earlier, and then I’ll write new scenes or chapters for her to build on the next morning.

MARLA: After coming up with a general outline, of course. Because I’m a plotter while she’s –

C J: A proud pantser. That’s the one difference that can be a bit tricky to work through, but we compromise and make changes to the outline as characters become clearer and more vibrant. Sometimes it takes a while, and other times, the characters just click.

MARLA: So far, “Luka,” the second book in the series, took a little bit longer. Our main characters are both dealing with some darkness, and we wanted to get it right.

C J: “Matthew,” on the other hand, practically burst off the page. We both knew back in book one, when the reader is introduced to Matt as the team’s angriest enforcer, exactly where we wanted to take him.

MARLA: One of the most fun we had with “Matthew” was replaying a scene from “Luka,” but this time from Matt’s perspective because their stories run concurrently. The idea of knowing what a person is dealing with makes it easier to feel compassion for them was important to us.

C J: I mean, he is an almost irredeemable jerk to Lincoln in the first book. Largely inspired by Jonathan Quick, we both loved Linc but had a little too much fun making Matt a thorn in his side. There had to be a reason he was such an a-hole, and when we found it, we knew what his book needed to be about.

MARLA: So far, knock on wood, we’re in the midst of book four in the (hopefully) seven-book series and haven’t had any major conflicts between the two of us.

C J: Well, except for your overuse of “up”. And towards instead of toward.

MARLA: Let it go, it’s my inner-Brit, I can’t help it.

C J: Anyway…writing in a different genre has opened us to a whole new group of readers, and we just love it.

A red-hot hockey sin bin romance

Matthew Holt uses his anger on the ice, gaining him the title of enforcer for L.A. Quakes and high minutes in the sin bin. But hooking up with a teammate’s little sister may earn him the highest penalty of all.

Ever since pee wee hockey, I’ve only known one way to play the sport I love – one hundred percent all in. My focus has always been protecting my teammates, so when the only team I’ve ever played for betrays me, trading me to a team thousands of miles from the family that needs me, who can blame me for taking angry and bitter to a whole new level.

Then Phoebe Anderson, the younger sister of my new teammate, literally falls into my arms and suddenly my life takes another, weird turn. Because believe it or not, my late sister voices her approval of the adorable klutz and refuses to be denied. Or am I going nuts? Either way, will our siblings prove to be too big of an obstacle to overcome? Or am I ready to let go of my anger and do whatever it takes to earn Phoebe’s love?

Excerpt:

This is from Phoebe and Matt’s first real date, and she discovers some surprising information about him.

“You can’t be serious. The original cartoon Mulan is way better than the live-action piece of garbage.” I’ve figured out that arguing is Matt’s primary mode of conversation, but he’s doing it with a sparkle in his brown eyes and a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. He takes a bite of a tortilla filled with roasted poblano peppers, onions, corn, Mexican cream, and cotija cheese. I’ve never had Rajas Con Crema, but I think I’m in love now. I want to date it. “The animated movie features great songs. Reflection, A Girl Worth Fighting For, Honor To Us All. And of course, my personal favorite,” he grins before singing, “mysterious like the dark side of the moon.”

First, I’m not surprised he likes the song I’ll Make A Man Out Of You, but I am surprised he has a pretty great singing voice. Who would have guessed?

I snicker. “Of course, that would be your favorite song.” I hold up a finger, ready to make my own argument for why the live-action is better. “That’s one of the problems. Live-action Mulan fixed many of the cultural problems and sexism. It also is closer to the historic Mulan story.”

“And I’ll counter-argue unlike the animated Mulan, who is an active force in shaping her own destiny, the live-action Mulan joins the Imperial Army, and the rest of the plot simply happens to her.”

I laugh. I can’t help myself. It’s like he’s giving a PhD dissertation. When I finally get a hold of myself, grateful I didn’t pee myself laughing, I grin at him. “I still can’t believe you watched both Mulan movies multiple times. I just don’t see it.”

“Yeah, well, I watched them with my younger sister.”

“You guys close?”

 “Yeah.” He looks away before grabbing the last taco. For the record, I ate three to his seven. And, I also sense his discomfort talking about his sister, so I cut him some slack and change the topic.

We talk for another two hours about everything and nothing. Like his movies, he prefers classic rock like Guns N’ Roses, Rush, and Metallica over the synthesized crap of Pixel Grip or Death Comes Crawling.

 “I mean, how do people not know when the instruments aren’t even real?” He gives an exaggerated shudder, which makes me laugh again.

 “Mathew Holt, I had no idea you were so funny. And such a traditionalist. Plus, those bands use synthetic sounds on purpose. They’re not pretending a fake electric guitar is real.” I put my hand on his arm without thinking about it. His skin is warm to the touch, and the thought of how warm he’d be in bed comes into my brain unbidden. The image of him naked beside me isn’t unwanted, mind you, it just came of its own accord.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” He raises an eyebrow at me, lip curled up on one side.

“I just didn’t know you were funny, that’s all.” I lie. If he knew what I was really thinking, we’d both be in trouble.

Favorite Lines:

“She sees rainbows and sunshine everywhere she looks, and all I see is the impending storm, flooding, and destruction.”

“I’m going to romance her so hard she won’t know what hit her. Somewhere between the front door and the bedroom last night, I decided to claim her, body and soul.”

“I need your rainbows to light my super dark world, or I’m lost.”

“I want the world to know this amazing woman is off the market and she’s mine. She’s my everything.”

Buy link: books2read.com/u/bpAR5J

Bio:

Alisa Jean is the pseudonym for award-winning authors Marla A. White and C J Bahr. They first teamed up over thirty years ago over a bottle of Zima (don’t ask) while polishing their gear for a horse show. They’ve since moved on to better beverages and writing novels.

Separately, Marla prefers to murder characters in the usual way, while C J uses paranormal means. The long-time best friends joined together as a writing team through their mutual love of hockey. Wonder twin powers activated! Their hockey romances examine flawed characters with heart, humor, and sexy sizzle.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alisajean.author/

Website/Newsletter:  https://alisajean.com

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July 14, 2025 · 9:07 am

10 Moments That Changed My Life with Lynda Rees ~ New Release: The Attic

Please help me welcome today’s guest, Lynda Rees, The Murder Guru, with…

1.         In our tiny coal mining town near Hazard, Kentucky, every man I knew was either a coal miner or a retired miner. My first memories are of moving into a bigger house than the two-room cottage we lived in. I recall vividly asking my dad about a conversation he and my uncle had as they moved our furniture inside. He explained what a president was and that Eisenhour had been elected the new one. This sparked my interest in the world outside of our home.

2.         Mommy disappeared for a few days and thrilled me when she returned with my new infant  brother. In my mind Ernie was my baby, though I was only four-years old at the time. We are forever connected in our souls, though he is no longer on this earth.

3.         As a child, I was free to roam the hills and holler where we lived. The neighbors were family and friends. I knew to beware of rattlesnakes and copperheads but had no fear of anything or anyone. My days consisted of visits to the homes of friends and family, finally ending at my grandparents’ farm, where I followed and learned from them as we did whatever chores made up their schedule.

4.         At the age of four, I learned to read with my grandpa, Daddy Lida, sitting on the porch, each of us deep into our Bibles. He was infinitely patient when I asked him to explain confusing words.

5.         We moved to Indiana for a summer when I was five. I had my first experience riding a bus instead of walking the mile to school in my Kentucky home. Indianapolis was my first big city. Suddenly confined to a tiny yard and not allowed to venture on my own, I learned I should be wary of strangers. It was a shock to me.

6.         We moved to Cincinnati when I was in the third grade. Talk about culture shock! I became ‘the new kid’ with a funny accent. I learned if you laugh at yourself, others stop bullying you and give you a chance to become friends.

7.         I fell in love with the boy across the street. He was a few years older and didn’t notice me until my pigtails were gone and I developed a girlish figure. He nearly scared me to death when after our first date, he told his mother he was going to marry me someday. He wasn’t wrong. Hunky Hubby and I have been happily married for fifty-two years.

8.         I’d given up on being a mother when I became pregnant. The births of my miracle son and sixteen months later my beautiful daughter were the most wonderful days of my life. I’ve achieved many notable things in my lifetime, but raising my family has been the most fulfilling thing I’ve ever done. They are my heart.

9.         I am so fortunate. My children are the best people I know. They also graced me with the greatest gift ever—three grandchildren, each bringing their own special gifts.

10.       Writing is my second career. After thirty-six years in the corporate world as a marketing and global transportation manager in a Fortune 500 company, I turned my focus to publishing my stories. My biggest thrills:

1) A fan told me she was on a waiting list at the library to read my newest publication.

2) A fan told me she reads every book I write, and that I have changed her life for the better. Wow! What a compliment. It humbles me.

GIVEAWAY!!! I would love to provide a reader who comments and joins my VIP group (link below) the giveaway of an eBook copy of my latest book.

Join my VIP group at: https://preview.mailerlite.com/t1a6j6

Love is a dangerous mystery. Enjoy the ride!

Rehabbers Charli Owens and fiancé, Eli Lange, remodel an historic mansion suspected of being haunted.

Secret tunnels, hidden chambers, unexplained happenings, and a killer on the loose ignite Charli’s curiosity. Enlisting her ex-rock-and-roll singer grandmother’s help, she delves into clues police ignore.

Unravelling the property’s notorious history, they become embroiled in a murder case and a major criminal operation that puts Charli’s life in danger.

Rehabbers Charli Owens and fiancé, Eli Lange, remodel an historic mansion suspected of being haunted.

Secret tunnels, hidden chambers, unexplained happenings, and a killer on the loose ignite Charli’s curiosity. Enlisting her ex-rock-and-roll singer grandmother’s help, she delves into clues police ignore.

Unravelling the property’s notorious history, they become embroiled in a murder case and a major criminal operation that puts Charli’s life in danger.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

She showered in the mansion’s crude, plastic, one piece bathroom stall, trying her best to wash guilt and terror from her pale skin. Red goo on her flesh mingled with water flow, her tears, and then drizzled in streaks down her legs into the rusty drain. The warmth eased her sore muscles. She closed her eyes, trying to block out memories straining to take possession of her spirit. Someone stole part of her soul. She desperately wanted it back.

She puffed an exhale and inhaled fresh oxygen to cleanse her insides. Her heart ached in her chest, trying to burst free. She held her breath for a count of four, then breathed in for a count of eight. She held it, counted slowly to four, and then breathed out to the count of six, repeating the process four times. With each repetition, her heartbeat slowed more. She’d learned the technique eased anxiety when it struck.

She scrubbed her hair for the third time with lilac scented shampoo, still pulling bits of dried leaves and twigs from the long, blonde tresses. She’d finally gotten used to the shade, which looked oddly natural on her. The lilac scent helped remove the crude odor of his heavy cologne—clearly an attempt to postpone bathing—combined with foul-smelling breath tinted with alcohol, onions, and tobacco.

She still sensed his rough, calloused grip on her bruised arms. Her hips burned from scrubbing where welts had developed from the friction of her jeans being ripped down.

She forced visions away to still her pulse and avoid another panic attack. The flow of water cooled, reminding her she’d showered long enough. She’d exhausted the supply of heated liquid from the inadequate, ancient, hot water tank.

After stepping out of the rickety stall onto a towel, she buffed her flesh with soft terry, continuing to rid herself of memories she certainly would dream about later.

She mustn’t catch a cold. The Lord knew she had enough problems. Besides, she couldn’t afford the cost of a doctor or the attention such a visit might bring to her.

A noise from the street signaled the slam of a vehicle door in front of the building. She gazed through grime undoubtedly accumulated over at least a decade of neglect on the thick pane. Voices drifted upward to her high observatory.

“Oh, crap, I’ve got to get this mess cleaned up…quickly.” She scrambled to finish drying, slid her slightly damp body into sweats and donned a tee shirt she’d brought to the bathroom. She’d been diligent about returning personal care items after they were used to the tote she’d carried them in so she could make quick work of it. Nasty clothing was crammed inside. Her tattered hoodie missed a zipper pull.

“Well, it’s trash.” Should she keep it? “Nope. You’re gone, baby.” She might like the jacket, but not the recollections that came with it.

She snatched her things and rushed to the safety of her private sanctuary.

Buy link(s):

Pre-Sale 5/8/25                Launch 7/16/25

Sale Links:

AMZ

Amazon.com: The Attic (A Flip or Flop Mystery Book 1) eBook : Rees, Lynda : Books

B&N  (ebook)           The Attic by Lynda Rees | eBook | Barnes & Noble®

            (paperback)   The Attic by Lynda Rees, Paperback | Barnes & Noble®

UNIVERSAL LINK:  https://books2read.com/u/4E1DEE

Also available in audiobook at:

DIRECT         https://payhip.com/b/VN1Tl

NOOK            https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-attic-lynda-rees/1146582031

Libro.FM       https://libro.fm/audiobooks/9781960763013

STORYTEL   https://www.storytel.com/se/sv/books/the-attic-a-flip-or-flop-mystery-9835875

GooglePlay                                                                                                                                                    https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details/Lynda_Rees_The_Attic?id=AQAAAEDyWCIYwM

KOBO/WM   https://www.kobo.com/us/en/audiobook/attic-the-1

HOOPLA       https://www.hoopladigital.com/title/17553736

BIO: LYNDA REES, THE MURDER GURU

Lynda Rees is a multi-award-winning storyteller, horse farmer, born in Eastern Kentucky. This coal miner’s daughter, part-Cherokee Indian author’s writing is influenced by growing up in the area when Newport prospered as a mecca for gambling and sin. Her fascination with history’s effect on today’s lives works its way into her written pages.

Having traveled the world working with heads of industries, foreign governments, and business leaders during a marketing and global transportation corporate career, this free-spirited adventurer turned her workaholic tendencies to following her passion for writing.

Lynda received accolades from KILLER NASHVILLE, SILVER FALCION READER’S CHOICE TOP PICK AWARD for both Fresh Starts, Dirty Money and Flip or Flop, Murder House; from PFTH; RITA for debut novels in two genres, Gold Lust Conspiracy and romantic suspense, Parsley, Sage, Rose, Mary & Wine, Book 1 of The Bloodline Series, set in Kentucky horse country and from and Imaginarium for her 2022 launched Operation Second Chance. She’s also published in MG, children’s picture books and non-fiction.

Join my VIP group at: https://preview.mailerlite.com/t1a6j6

Website:                      http://www.lyndareesauthor.com 

Follow me on social media at:

Twitter            https://twitter.com/LyndaReesauthor

Facebook        https://www.facebook.com/lynda.rees.author/

YouTube         https://bit.ly/2HmSA9M

AllAuthor        https://allauthor.com/author/lyndarees/

Bookbub         https://www.bookbub.com/profile/lynda-rees

Goodreads      https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17187400.Lynda_Rees

Instagram:       Lynda Rees (@lyndareesauthor) • Instagram photos and videos

Pinterest:         https://www.pinterest.com/lyndareesauthor/pins/

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July 4, 2025 · 7:33 am

The 2026 NEST Unpublished Scene Contest is Open for Entries!! – Check out our 2025 Winners…

Are you an aspiring author? Published author? Somewhere in between? Enter a scene from your fiction Work in Progress in the 2026 NEST Unpublished Scene Contest sponsored by Central Region Oklahoma Writers…

Contest Details:

Entries capped at 50 for each subcategory – If you want to secure a spot but are not ready to submit the actual scene, you can pay the entry fee and send the scene any time before the deadline

Deadline January 24, 2026

  • Winners announced on or around April 27, 2026
  • Enter 1 scene from any place in your fiction WIP (Work in Progress). Maximum word count 2,000
  • $15 Entry Fee (For the first entry per author. Additional entries from the same author are $10 each)
  • Any fiction genre
  • Any heat level
  • If your entry has not been published as of the contest deadline (January 24, 2026), it is eligible
  • Your name should not appear on your entry
  • Submit your scene in Word or PDF format
  • Top prize: Trophy, $50 and a full manuscript assessment by an editor with Wild Rose Press Publishing
  • Four runners up will receive certificates and a three chapter assessment by an editor with Wild Rose Press Publishing

For questions, contact coordinator Alicia Dean – Alicia@AliciaDean.com​

Click HERE to Enter

Pay your entry fee (if you enter more than one scene, you can pay it all in one payment) via PayPal to: Crow.OWFI.group@gmail.com or use the link: paypal.me/OWFICrow 

Congratulations to the 2025 winners…

NON-ROMANCE

First Place

The Sound of Silence by Brenda Clark Thomas

Second Place (tie)

A Lady in Pieces by Robert Herold

AND

Learning to Live Again by Linda Trout

Third Place (tie)

Embassy Row by Katherine McLellan

AND

The Tell-Tale Art: Prologue by Lawrence Rothstein

Fourth Place (tie)

Prequel to The Tell-Tale Art by Lawrence Rothstein

AND

Embargo! By Mark Reutlinger

Fifth Place

No Pain Wasted by Mark Jones

ROMANCE

First Place

The Courtesan’s Christmas Redemption by Kathy L Wheeler

Second Place

The Selkie and the Viking by Joan Koster

Third Place

Breaking the Heart’s Walls by Annette Miller

Fourth Place

A Duke She Couldn’t Refuse by Victoria Elliot

Fifth Place

Beautiful Mess by Mary Cope

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July 3, 2025 · 2:51 pm

A Big Congrats to the 2025 NEST Contest Winners!!

The scores are in and these wonderful stories won first place in their categories in the National Excellence in Story Telling (NEST) Contest sponsored by Central Region Oklahoma Writers. Congratulations to all!

Find the entire list of winners and finalists here: https://crowowfigroup.wixsite.com/website/nestcurrentwinners

CONTEMPORARY NOVEL

The Rancher’s Lost Bride by Roxanne Snopek

The Rancher’s Lost Bride

CONTEMPORARY SHORT

Christmas Gifts: The Family Heirloom by J.L. Lawrence

COZY MYSTERY

Walkers on the Run by C.S. Kjar

Walkers on the Run

EROTIC

Captain’s Treasure by Jordyn Kross

https://books2read.com/captainstreasure

HISTORICAL NOVEL

Laird of Lies by Willa Blair

HISTORICAL SHORT

Rescued by a Christmas Kiss by Larissa Lyons

Rescued by a Christmas Kiss

HORROR

Karens In The Woods by Betsey Kulakowski & J.B. Caine

INSPIRATIONAL NOVEL

Who Touches the Mountains by Deborah Raney

INSPIRATIONAL SHORT

The Baby and the Guardian by Danielle Grandinetti

PARANORMAL NOVEL

Bloodguard by Cecy Robson

https://geni.us/0QF5w0

PARANORMAL SHORT

When the Hope Rose Blooms by Annette Miller

SUSPENSE NOVEL

A Guardian for Christmas by Amanda Knight

https://www.amandaknightauthor.com/books

SUSPENSE SHORT

Flies on the Wall by Jon Minton

https://books2read.com/b/mBBZJN

WOMEN’S FICTION

Meadow Falls by Carolyn Brown

YOUNG ADULT

Ghost Therapy by Mark Rosendorf

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June 25, 2025 · 8:20 am

Outnumbered by Lisbeth L. McCarty – A Friday the 13th Horror Short Story

Another tale in the Friday the 13th Horror Short Story series…..

On any Friday the 13th, the debut of 13 horror stories seem appropriate. I was glad to submit one of those stories.

Fun Fact:

After reading Outnumbered, my editor said, “This all-too-evil story hits the mark but makes me question the mentality of the author.” I choose to interpret that to mean I did something right. Well, something right about wrong, anyway.

About Outnumbered:

Damien Malone is a character based on true life murderers who always think they are smarter than everyone else. They never are.

Excerpt:

Damien also liked to laugh about what he considered the silliest line, as well as the most famous line, from Love Story, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Stupid! That makes no sense. Damien had once heard someone ridicule that famous line by saying, “Love means never having to say put down that butcher knife.” That, at least, makes some sense.

            Other than for amusement at the absurdity of it all, Damien cared about neither the real line nor the parody line of Love Story because he had no love in his heart. And he couldn’t remember when he ever had love in his heart. He was positive that he never had, and he never would.

About the Author:

Lisbeth L. McCarty has worked in the three most hated professions—as an investigative journalist, an appellate criminal defense attorney, and a mime. For more than 40 years, she explored the fascinating aspects of the criminal mind. She loves that she got paid to paid to read and write—two of her favorite things to do. Her website is www.lisbethmccarty.com. You can read her monthly blog at https://lisbeth.substack.com.

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June 24, 2025 · 6:31 am

Thirteen Reflections by Maxine Douglas ~ A Friday the 13th Horror Short Story

Another story in the Friday the 13th Horror Series…

Blurb:

On the night of Friday the 13th, in the eerie halls of the infamous abandoned Ravenclaw Manor, a dead body is found in front of an antique mirror, shattered into countless jagged shards. The police call it a tragic accident. Carousel Ryder knows better. As she digs into the Firestone past, she uncovers a sinister family curse, whispered rumors of a haunted mirror, and a string of mysterious deaths stretching back generations.

Jackson Firestone Clairmont, the last surviving member of the cursed bloodline, races to help Cari unravel the truth before the mirror claims another victim. But when the reflections begin to shift—showing glimpses of the past, the future, and something inhuman lurking beneath the glass—Jax realizes that breaking the curse might come at an unspeakable cost…losing the woman he is meant to love for eternity.

Because some mirrors don’t just reflect the world. They trap souls. And once you look in… something else might be looking back.

Excerpt:

Cari peeked around a window frame, her gaze scanning the large empty room with a huge vacant China cupboard until she glimpsed the chalk outline on the foyer floor. She held back a small sob. A shadow caught the corner of her eye and she sprung away from the window, a breath lodged in her throat.

Counting slowly to ten to calm her racing heart, she chanced looking again in time to see Jax go to his knees and begin cleaning up the outline of the victim. As he continued scrubbing, Cari’s gaze traveled over to the mirror behind him. A shadow reflected eerily in the antique glass when a cloud moved across the sun behind her.

She gasped. For a fleeting moment, she could have sworn there was a face staring back at her from deep inside one of the fractured pieces of the mirror. When she blinked, the image was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“I have to get a look at that mirror,” she whispered, backing away from the window. Creeping down the stairs, Cari made her way across the yard to her car. Slipping into the driver’s side, she sat back and waited until she saw Jax leave.

Knowing this was possibly her only chance, she planned to steal her way back to Ravenclaw Manor like a cat stalking a mouse.

About Author:

Award-winning author, Maxine Douglas writes in several genres, including American historical romance, contemporary romance, and cozy mysteries. A Wisconsin native, Maxine resides in Oklahoma. While Maxine may miss her family and friends in the north, she loves the mild winters Oklahoma has to offer.

Having found love in 2001 and then losing the love of her life in 2018 to cancer, Maxine hasn’t given up on believing in true love. She hopes that she expresses that feeling of hope with every story she brings to life through her writing.

Maxine is a current member of the Oklahoma Writers’ Federation, Inc. and its affiliations Central Region Oklahoma Writers and Oklahoma Romance Writers Guild. She is also a member of the Friends of the Chickasha Library and serves as a Board Member of the Chickasha Area Arts Council.

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June 23, 2025 · 5:07 am

Dirty Girl by Alicia Dean ~ A Friday the 13th Horror Short Story

And…here is my offering in the Friday the 13th Horror short story series…

Fun Fact:

This story is very loosely influenced by the movies Sometimes They Come Back (1991) and Buried Alive (1990), coincidentally both starring Tim Matheson. On second thought, it’s not like them at all. But they both gave me the creeps and I hope my story will give you the creeps as well.

About Dirty Girl:

A couple involved in an illicit affair are responsible for a tragedy that results in a young girl’s death. They think they’ve buried their transgressions and can get on with their lives.

But they are very, very wrong.

Excerpt:

He took the girl’s hand, and a shiver raced over his body. Her flesh was ice-cold, even though it was a warm June day. An odor emanated from her…something unpleasant…like damp earth.

Like the dirt they’d buried the poor girl in…

He shook himself mentally. It was just his guilty conscience. This girl was probably about the same age and was similar in size and coloring.

He went to pull back his hand, but her grip tightened almost imperceptibly, and he met her dark eyes. Something seemed to lurk in their fathomless debts. Some kind of secret knowledge…or accusation. He wanted to look away, but was unable to. Light flickered in the brown orbs and he saw a flash of a scene…just a brief moment but he could swear it was there. Headlights shining on trees, the glint of moonlight. Two figures—one thrusting a shovel into the dirt, the other holding a flashlight. The smell of dirt assailed him and, for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Dad?” An uncomfortable chuckle from Corbin. “You can let go now.”

Corbin’s voice brought him out of the trance. He shuddered and released the girl’s hand. Before he turned away, he detected a small quirk of amusement on her lips, then it was gone.

About the Author:

Alicia Dean lives in Oklahoma where she enjoys creating dark, suspenseful stories. She loves scaring people and, when she was a child, she did so by doing things like putting panty hose over her face and going into the back yard and looking into her sister’s window. Now that she’s grown—and realizes she could get arrested for such antics—she lets her stories do the scaring.

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June 22, 2025 · 6:38 am

Dead Man’s Shirt by Laura Strickland ~ A Friday the 13th Horror Short Story

Check out another wickedly creepy story in the Friday the 13th Horror Series…

Fun Fact:

The title of this story popped into my head first, out of a murky, dark sky as if some evil imp whispered it to me. The story unwound itself afterwards, like a bad—and very disturbing—dream.

About Dead Man’s Shirt:

Mike O’Grady’s on the hunt for a job, not a career as a serial killer. But when he buys a shirt with a dubious background he begins to wonder. Has he acquired the shirt, or has it acquired him?

Excerpt:

With the tan jacket in his hands, Mike stands and remembers. Horror floods through him in the wake of—

Is that satisfaction?

Oh, God.

He’s imagining all this, right? Brought on by the news reports and that scene out on the street. Only a few blocks from here. And all the stress he’s been under.

Then, what’s all over his jacket?

Splashes of coppery brown. Some large splats. Some just small dots.

Like were on the shirt.

Most of the red stains are on the sleeves. Like a man in a dream, Mike picks at the substance with his nail. Some of it flakes off.

It has to be—paint. Yeah, that’s it. But where did he get into paint? When?

Another image suddenly flashes into his head. The knife lying in the bottom of the sink.

Oh, God, no.

Impossible.

Isn’t it?

About the Author:

Award-winning author Laura Strickland enjoys time traveling to the past or wherever else her fancy takes her and searching out settings for her books, be they Historical Romance, Steampunk or something in between. Born and raised in Western New York, she is intensely interested in animal welfare. Connect with her at: www.laurastricklandbooks.com

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June 21, 2025 · 4:06 pm

Sandcastles by Jon Minton ~ A Friday the 13th Horror Short Story

Another creepy fun Friday the 13th story…

Fun Fact:

In my latest #Fridaythe13th story, Sandcastles, our killer uses the beach itself as his murder weapon. But can people really drown in sand? And how realistic is quicksand portrayed in stories?

Drowning in sand, also known as sand aspiration, is a real risk. It can suffocate and crush you at the same time, causing respiratory asphyxia due to thoracic compression. Tragically, children have perished this way, even in sandboxes.

And while quicksand might rapidly swallow a character whole in a book or movie, this isn’t realistic. The human body is less dense than quicksand, so you will only sink partially…until panicked movements by the victim cause more liquidation, which will make them sink further. Despite its name, quicksand provides a slow, dramatic death, giving the victim ample time to deliver tearful goodbyes, profess love, or reveal plot twists.

Who can forget the Swamps of Sadness in The Neverending Story? RIP Artax.

About Sandcastles:

How far will one woman go to avenge her brother’s murder? She’s not sure the police deserve to capture the murderer and have the news hail them as heroes…and maybe the Sandcastle Killer deserves to see the inside of a grave rather than a cell. Kindle or paperback.

Excerpt:

“You’re awake,” he said, a lively lilt in his voice.

“David…why?” she sobbed, seawater filling her prison, feet kicking up the wet silt turning to mud. She sunk her fingers into the sand as she tried to claw her way up, only for one wall to collapse. Mud washed over her feet, rising to her ankles, then her shins. “David! I’m going to drown.”

“Yeah, careful with that,” he said from a distance. “Trying to claw at the walls will make it worse.” David took the same, lectured cadence July’s father might use to remind her that improperly insulated windows would run up her electric bill.

She felt herself sinking, pressure on the soles of her feet as the earth sucked July into the abyss, slowly, as if Mother Earth were taking the time to savor her morsel.

“Hey, you want to see something?” he shouted, even further away. “Get ready to catch.”

She screeched for help as loud as she could, tendons in her neck straining. A shiver ran up her spine when her feet hit a dramatic temperature change and her body slipped further into the quicksand.

“C’mon, now. You won’t catch it. On three. Ready? One.”

“Help me!”

“Two.”

The mud crept up her chest, a chilling reminder of David choking her unconscious earlier. She peddled her legs to stay afloat, thighs burning in the sludge.

“Three.”

She recognized her cell phone as it arced through the air. She struggled to get a hand free, but snagged the device before it fell into the mud.

“Did you catch it?” He laughed. “It still has the SIM card, if you think you can call someone.”

What is it about a picture? Especially on a phone, the bright LED makes the vibrant colors pop. Even in the sun’s glare, the sandcastle he built was clear, July’s grave lurking in the background. Her eyes succumbed to the picture’s gravity, and she stared at its magnificence before the mud stole her vision, hearing, and breath.

Author bio:

Jon Minton is an American speculative fiction writer based in Oklahoma City. He is a software developer but has always been passionate about a great story.

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