Author Archives: Alicia Dean

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About Alicia Dean

Author of paranormal and romantic suspense. Follow her on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Alicia-Dean/131939826889437) or twiiter (https://twitter.com/Alicia_Dean_)

Halloween Romance: Devil’s Eyes (A Michael Myers Love Story)

Last year, my OKRWA writing chapter held a fun contest where participants were challenged to write a 500 word story with a ‘monster’ as the romance hero. I was coordinator, so I couldn’t enter the contest, but of course, I couldn’t resist writing a story anyway. This is the last of the Halloween Monster Romance Posts. Happy Halloween!!  

About the story…

I have always loved the Michael Myers Halloween movies. I saw my first one, when it was released in 1978,  in Moore, Oklahoma with my still BFF, Paige Warren. It was a spooky night all around.  I drove my parents’ station wagon (and of course, Michael stole and drove the hospital station wagon in the movie). After the movie, we were driving down 12th street (the local drag), and a girl stepped out onto the busy street and slowly walked across, without even looking around, like she was in a trance or something. We were freaked out, to say the least. Then, when I got home, my bratty younger brother hid in my dark room with his hand over my light switch and, when I went to flip the light on, I touched his hand and screamed.  So, yeah, that’s a night I’ll never forget. 🙂 When my kids were growing up, we all watched the movies together, and they LOVED them. They were never prone to nightmares, and if they did have them, they didn’t mind, because, like me, they loved to be scared. As twisted as it sounds, my girls and I think Michael is sexy. So…it was great fun to put him in a romance story. Hope you enjoy…

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Devil’s Eyes

Haddonfield, IL 1992, Halloween Night

Brisk October wind bit into Doctor Phoebe Loomis’s flesh beneath her thin jacket. Dry leaves skittered down the sidewalk, sounding like cracking bones.

In the aftermath of the murders, the darkened neighborhood was silent. Along the street, houses were adorned with witches, goblins, and grotesquely smiling jack-o-lanterns. One particularly creative individual had transformed his yard into a cemetery, complete with headstones and an open grave with a ‘corpse’ lying next to it.

Red and blue strobe lights painted the faces of the officers leading the killer from the house. Michael Myers, wearing charcoal-gray coveralls and a blood-sprinkled white mask, towered above the two men.

Her pulse skipped, and she took a deep breath to still her racing heart. What was wrong with her? How could she be attracted to a…monster? Tonight, he’d killed five teenagers who’d been partying in his childhood home—thrill seekers, fascinated by the legend of Michael Myers. He’d taken countless lives since his escape from Smith’s Grove Sanitarium in 1978, where he’d been incarcerated for fifteen years after he murdered his teen sister, Judith, on Halloween—at six years old.

After her uncle’s death last year, Phoebe took over his psychiatry practice. Daily, she’d devoured Michael’s file.  Yes, Michael had committed atrocities. But atrocities had been committed against him too. A relative told of how Judith abused him. All these years, he’d been killing his sister over and over. His tormented soul cried out to Phoebe. She couldn’t explain it any more than she could explain sunrises. They simply were.

Tomorrow, she would meet with a man who murdered without conscience. And tonight, like many others, she would dream of his touch, his kiss…

She grimaced. If the authorities knew of her twisted fascination with Michael Myers, not only would they not let her near him, they’d lock her up as well.

****

The interrogation room door opened and Phoebe snapped her head up. Michael—sans mask, wearing an orange jumpsuit, hands and feet shackled—stepped inside. His eyes—her uncle called them Devil’s eyes—were black as a midnight sky. But unlike her uncle, she saw more than a soulless killing machine in their depths.

Michael eyed her warily and dropped into a chair. He was handsomer than she expected. Dark, tousled hair and, other than a jagged scar running along his rugged jawline, he was…beautiful

She offered a tentative smile. “I’m Sam Loomis’ niece, Phoebe.”

He rested his shackled hands on the tabletop. His dark gaze, so intent it stole her breath, locked onto her face. Tingles skated over her skin and she glanced away.

When his touch landed on her hand, she jerked her head up. Michael’s firm lips had softened—not quite a smile, but something…pleasant.

“Phoebe…” His gravelly voice sent shivers along her flesh. “I’ll tell you my story.” Relief surfaced in his ebony eyes. “Then maybe, I’ll find peace.”

She clasped her fingers around his and nodded, smiling through tears. “I’m here for you. As long as you need me.”

 

My Paranormal Romance, Soul Seducer:

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Blurb:

She spent her entire life fighting death. Now she’s falling in love with him

As a nurse, Audra Grayson devotes her life to healing others. She realizes death is inevitable, but struggles every day to help her patients combat it. When she has a near-death experience of her own, she inadvertently opens a portal between the world of the living and the dead. Two Grim Reapers step through—Gaylen, bent on vengeance, determined to bring death to the innocent, even when it isn’t their time. And Dimitri—sexy and deadly, even though he’s just ‘doing his job.’ When Gaylen targets Audra’s patients, then her loved ones, she’ll have to conquer her fears to defeat him. But she can’t as easily conquer her feelings for Dimitri—she’s falling in love with him, and there’s no future with a man who exists in a world beyond the grave.

Excerpt:

Sensing movement behind her, Audra whirled. In the shadowed corner of the room, she could make out the figure of a man, although she couldn’t distinguish his features.

Visiting hours weren’t until ten a.m. And even then, only family members were allowed in this wing of the ICU. Audra had met each of Ms. Chapman’s relatives, and this man wasn’t one of them. She could tell by his body type and height. The only male in Ms. Chapman’s immediate family was her son, and he was short and stocky.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hushed. “You can’t be in here.”

He looked behind him, then back at her. “You can see me?”

She frowned in puzzlement. “Of course.”

“You saw me that night. Both those nights.”

Her frown deepened. “What nights?”

He moved from the gloom, drawing closer. Her instinct was to back away, but she forced herself to remain in place.

As he left the shadows behind, his features emerged, and part of her brain recognized him, but she wouldn’t let the terrifying thought solidify.

He wore faded jeans and a form-fitting black T-shirt. His pectoral muscles and biceps would rival a male model’s. They were tight and well-defined, not overly bulky like those of steroid-enhanced body builders.

Reluctantly, her mind acknowledged she’d seen him before. He’d been part of her hallucinations. Her worst nightmares were becoming a reality.

Somehow not as frightened as she should have been, she stared into his icicle blue eyes as he continued to move slowly toward her. She waited, holding her breath in expectation.

Why did she feel this tingly sense of excitement? This glimmer of anxiousness mixed with fear? Why did she feel like she might explode with anticipation?

He halted a couple of steps in front of her and lifted his hand, brushing it along the scar on her cheekbone, causing a shudder in the pit of her stomach. A current moved in the air, like a burst of electricity.

“The first time was the night you got this.” His words were a whisper along her skin, as was his touch…almost as if his caress was the hint of a sensation, but not actual contact. Her eyes drifted shut, and she swayed toward him. Her pulse raced, her skin tightening. She swallowed back a moan. She wasn’t even dismayed at her response to his nearness. It felt so right…so deliciously right. One slight move forward, and she could touch him, press her yearning body against his chest. Biting her lower lip, she just barely held back from giving in to the urge.

Softly, she murmured, “That night—I—you…” The only words she could form were incoherent drivel. Her heart pounded, her belly clenching with the strangest feeling she’d ever had. She lifted her lashes, staring up at him, wanting to lose herself in his glittering blue gaze. Wanting to feel his hands on her body…his full, sensual lips on hers. Wanting to be swept away in whatever madness this was. It felt so strange, yet at the same time, exhilarating, compelling, irresistible…dangerous.

Yes, dangerous. Gulping in a breath, she stepped back. His touch fell away, breaking the strange hold he had on her.

“You! It was you there that night. In the alley…” Her breath came in short gasps as the odd desire was replaced by fear. “Then again, at the hospital.” She shot her gaze around the room. “Where’s the other one? The blond guy? Who the hell are you?”

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Halloween Romance: Elvira Meets the Prince

Last year, my OKRWA writing chapter held a fun contest where participants were challenged to write a 500 word story with a ‘monster’ as the romance hero. I’ll be sharing a few of those on my blog between now and Halloween.  Enjoy!

FROM TEENA SMITH

Back in the day, I loved the treat of a scary movie late at night. On weekends, an oh-so-entertaining horror host came as a big bonus. For years, The Mistress of the Night, Elvira, and Count Gregore were staples. Their wise-cracking style brought out the fun, campy side of horror. Around Halloween they pulled out all the stops. I especially loved Elvira’s over the top, sexy persona, complete with witty double-entendres.

But the years flit by, and as they do, taste and programming evolves. Demand for horror hosting seems almost nonexistent these days. How might Elvira cope?

What if, late at night around Halloween, she were to have an uninvited guest who might suggest an unusual solution. One, he could say, to help them both. She likes it, but wants a little tweak. Hmmm.

I hope you enjoy my ideas about how the Mistress of the Dark might play this out. ~~TS

elvira

Elvira Meets the Prince

            Elvira stared at her uninvited guest. Seduction personified, he was tall and built, with dark smoldering eyes, and glossy longish black hair. She was due back on set at midnight, and it was already 10:30. Another production delay, and the project would be scrapped, taking her career with it. Not a high demand anymore for horror hosts.

            Lust rolled off him, heating the air. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. Damn — the man was a sexual magnet — or was he a man? Vampires weren’t really her thing. What had he just said? “Chupa what?”

            The corners of his sexy-as-sin mouth turned up in a smirk. “As Mistress of the Dark, you seem to have little knowledge of chupacabras.”

            The mellifluous, rich timbre of his voice added to his allure. “Dude — your pet goat suckers? Ewww.” One of her feet tapped the floor, a sure sign of her sexual attraction. “Uh, sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

            “You can call me Prince.”

            “Oh. Like the name formerly used by the singer.” Was he looking down his nose at her?

He waved a dismissive hand, one finger adorned with what must be a five carat stone. “I never gave him permission to use the name. However, he was quite reasonable once his error was pointed out.”

            Suddenly, they sat hip to hip — knee to knee. How did he get right next to her? Less than a minute ago, he’d been at the other end of the small couch. He exhaled, blowing hot breath on her neck. It warmed her to the core, and headed south. None of the undead had so much heat. Was there a trace of Sulphur in the air? Her nose must be out of whack. She visualized her dungeon. He’d be on his knees, maybe in chains. Clad in little more than her thigh high stilettos, she’d strut before him, whip in hand. Mistress indeed . . . She blinked, and shook her head. The temptation to act on her fantasy was too dangerous at the moment. Making him keep his distance was the last thing she wanted, but what else could she do? There was no time. “I never gave you permission to come this close, Prince.”

            He inclined his head and moved an arms’ length. “Actually, my dear, I didn’t come here to talk only about my pets. I think we can help each other — in many ways.”

            “Go on.”

            His eyes became iridescent and glowed red. “A new film project — one that can start a new cinematic horror theme. I believe it’ll replace vampires and the zombie apocalypse.”

            His enthusiasm was infectious. “Do you mean?”

            “Absolutely. Chupacabras — the new horror craze.”

            It would give her career a boost, in the bargain. “I think it’s a winner.” “I have to be on set in twenty. Come with me. I’ll introduce you to someone who can make it happen.

           “But let’s step downstairs first. I want you to see something.”

 

 

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Halloween Romance: The Reaper’s Kiss

Last year, my OKRWA writing chapter held a fun contest where participants were challenged to write a 500 word story with a ‘monster’ as the romance hero. I’ll be sharing a few of those on my blog between now and Halloween.  Enjoy!

FROM TAMRIE FOXTAIL

I wrote The Reaper’s Kiss as a short story for the contest. After I read the story to my husband he kept asking me questions about it. The answers to those questions led to my outlining a YA trilogy. I’ve finished the first draft of the first story and hope to have a final draft ready to submit in a few months.

The Reaper’s Kiss

The Grim Reaper stands outside my window. I don’t have to peek through the white eyelet curtains next to my bed to see his shrouded form. I don’t have to open my eyes and look for the shadowy outline made possible by the not quite full moon.

I don’t have to look for him because I can hear him.

His skeleton finger taps on the cold glass.

Local legend says that if you carve your name in The Reaper’s Tree—once known as The Hangman’s Tree and site of an accident that killed five people in the fifties—The Reaper will come for you before the next full moon. My boyfriend Daley and I carved our names there on Halloween night. Three nights later Daley’s brother heard a thud in the middle of the night. He went into Daley’s room and found him lying dead on the floor.

Tomorrow is the full moon.

I lie on my bed, eyes clamped shut. Now The Reaper taps on my window. His icy breath reaches me through the glass. I won’t look.

“Ivy.” I think I hear Daley’s voice. Impossible. I stood next to his grave this morning, tossing a single red rose on top of his casket.

“Ivy.” An icy finger traces my outer ear the way Daley used to.

I keep my eyes closed, shivering in the November chill as the blankets are tugged from my shoulders, sliding down my body.

A cold hand creeps beneath my t-shirt, the chill of it bringing my nipples to attention.

“It’s me, Ivy. I love you. You promised I was the only one.”

The cold vanishes, driven away by my first love. My only love if the reaper comes for me tonight.

I remember Daley’s touch, his fumbling, yet gentle hands; warm hands on a warm September night tugging my t-shirt over my head as we stretched out on his twin bed.

“I have protection,” he whispered, tugging at the snap on my jeans.

“Where’d you get a condom?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “You said I was your first, too.”

“I stole one from Jonah.”

I wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to draw the attention of his brother or parents.

My jeans slid over my hips. Daley’s hand stroked the inside of my thigh.

Warmed by the memory I give myself to my lover’s touch. He tugs my panties down. I kick them free. My legs begin to open, ready to welcome him.

It’s the touch of ice on my lips that make my eyes spring open. I stare into Daley’s sweet brown eyes; eyes now set in a skeleton’s grinning face.

Wrapped in my lover’s touch, The Reaper has come for me.

 

Check out Tamrie’s romantic suspense short story:

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Blurb:

Daira Gleeson gave her heart and her virginity to Rory Trent when they were in high school. Twenty years later–reeling from her mother’s suicide and the death of her cheating fiance–Daira finds herself in possession of a cursed scrimshaw doll.

Now, Rory is back in town, wanting to pick up where they left off. But not only is Daira afraid he’ll break her heart, the doll’s curse has already caused harm to those close to her. If Rory leaves her again, he could pay with his life.

Someone is after the doll and willing to kill to possess it. Can the curse be broken in time to save those Daira loves…and to regain the true love she lost a lifetime ago?

Excerpt:

Daira jumped when her front door opened. Rory stood there for a moment, then stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“You should keep your door locked.”

“You’re supposed to wait for someone to open it.” Her words lacked the scorn she had intended.

He crossed the room, then took her shoulders in his hands and kneaded them gently. “You sounded frightened on the phone.”

“I’m fine. I told you, it was just a mouse.”

He looked at Lemon, sitting on the arm of the couch, washing a white paw. The corner of Rory’s mouth twitched. “The cat mustn’t be doing its job.”

He studied her with those sexy brown eyes. Tiny flecks of gold and green encircled the pupil. His fingers flexed, settling on her shoulders more firmly.

Why couldn’t she look away?

He leaned closer. She pressed her hands against his chest and turned her head to the side. His kiss landed on her cheek. His lips moved to her ear, taking a little nip. She drew in a deep breath as her nipples responded.

“High school was a long time ago,” he said, amusement threaded through his voice. “When are you going to give me another chance?”

She turned to look at him. His nose was an inch from hers. She struggled to keep her eyes from crossing. “You think I don’t want you to kiss me because you dumped me twenty years ago?”

“You mean there’s another reason?”

“Yes! You’re little more than a stranger, now. I don’t go around kissing strange men.”

His smile deepened. He leaned closer, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. She shivered.

“I’m not a stranger, sweetheart.” His hands slid down her arms and moved to her waist. “I’m the man who took your virginity in the backseat of my car.”

Click HERE to buy

 

Bio

Tamrie Foxtail is a librarian, and the wife of a Federal Agent (now retired).  Raised in Florida, and now living in the Sooner state, she’s still searching for the beach in Oklahoma. 

 

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Halloween Romance: If Christine Had Chosen the Phantom

Last year, my OKRWA writing chapter held a fun contest where participants were challenged to write a 500 word story with a ‘monster’ as the romance hero. I’ll be sharing a few of those on my blog between now and Halloween.  Enjoy!

FROM KATHY L. WHEELER

I am a huge musical theater lover! So choosing the Phantom as my monster was a no-brainer. I’ve seen the show eleven times! Yes. Eleven. 11. I was recently in New York City and saw three shows: Something Rotten (second time, both on Broadway); Wicked (seven times, first time on Broadway. Unbelievable!); and, School of Rock (first time ever) and another Andrew Lloyd Webber. (He also did Phantom). I did try to see Phantom of the Opera again, but they didn’t have Rush tickets, and well…. I have seen it 4 times on Broadway, and was once given a backstage tour! My daughter took a picture of me holding one of actors masks and said “She’s speechless”. Alas, it was true.

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(Side note from Alicia – Catching Kathy ‘speechless’ is a rare event. So sorry I missed it. 😉 – JK, Kathy, love ya!!)

If Christine Had Chosen the Phantom

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1905 Sewers beneath the Paris Opera House

“Make. Your. Choice.”

His raspy snarl filled the bizarrely decorated space. A carved out niche somewhere in the sewers beneath the Paris Opera House. Lighted candelabras sat atop a grand piano that had seen better days, a chair before a cracked mirror that distorted my image grotesquely. I glanced over my shoulder. Raoul, my childhood friend, begging me with his eyes, noose snug about his neck. I’d known him since childhood.

My fingers trembled. What if I made the wrong choice? This evil, half-masked man rose to his full height, poised for… Was that hate in his eyes? Or love? Would he kill me? Raoul? Dear God, help me, but I wanted him. Him, my angel of music. He, who sang to me when I slept. Could I really choose him, the Phantom of the Opera, over my childhood sweetheart?

Slowly, I stood. Crept toward him so as not to frighten him. Lifted my hands to that face. That beautiful, sad creature, who gave my voice song, night after night. His face so scarred was difficult to look upon, but when I close my eyes all I hear is his brilliant music.

“Christine! Christine!”

“Oh, Raoul, I’m sorry.” I lunged forward, trapped firm lips beneath my own. For a moment the Phantom froze. But I refused to be rejected. “You love me,” I whispered.

“Yes. Yes.” A damn broke. His mouth devoured mine. His tongue swept against mine with passion, with fever. Each stroke weakened my knees, but his arms kept me upright. His body was strong, hard, masculine. His hand hovered at my breast. I felt the heat but he didn’t touch. He broke away, his breathing labored. Wary, shock-filled eyes met mine.

“Let Raoul go. I shall stay.” My whisper echoed against the stone walls.

“If you are deceiving me—” Harsh words, yet I deserved no better. He had no reason to believe in others or me. Why should he? Ridiculed his whole life. No one looked past the scars to the cleverness of his wit and mind.

I placed my finger against his lips. “No,” I said. “I wish to stay.”

He whipped a knife from nowhere. In a single slash, the rope dangled above, felling Raoul to his knees. “Christine, you don’t have to, he can’t make you.”

The Phantom spun and dropped in the chair, draping one leg over the armrest. His manner appeared nonchalant, but I knew he held his breath, awaiting my response. I went to the door and opened it.

“He is not forcing me,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“This is the point of no return. Christine. I beg you.” Raoul reached out a hand. I stepped back, his shoulders fell.

“This is goodbye. Think of me fondly. Remember me, once in a while.” I will not cry. I will not.

His knuckles graze my cheek. “There will never be a day when I won’t think of you.”

 

Check out Kathy’s Gothic Mystery Romance, which is part of a series, A World of Gothic, in which I also published a novella. 

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Blurb:

Can she live with what her memories may unlock?
She remembers nothing of her past except the sting of her aunt’s slap jarring her to the stained letter she held in one hand, the bloody knife in the other, and … her father’s lifeless body at her feet. Now she must face the truth…did she murder her own father.

Excerpt:

“With your assistance, Miss Ross, we’ll be tearing this house apart.” He glanced between his two companions. “When I learn who the dishonest party is, make no mistake, I will be pressing charges. To the fullest extent of the law.”
My stomach nose-dived a hundred leagues below sea level. Not only did I possess one of the Spanish coins, but my presence here was not exactly on the up-and-up.
“That’s just rich. Isn’t it, Adam?” Raven hissed. “Laughable to hear you speaking of following the law.”
He dropped his napkin. “I have matters to attend to this morning, Miss Ross. I’m sure you have ideas to present. Let’s meet in the library. Shall we say—” He eyed my crusted bread with an amused smirk. “—fifteen minutes?”
“Of course,” I responded, so relieved I almost slid from my chair to the floor. The library. I could handle the library.

Click HERE to purchase from Amazon – ON SALE FOR ONLY 99¢

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Bio:

Kathy L Wheeler (aka Kae Elle Wheeler) is the author of sixteen contemporary and historical novels and novellas that range from sweet to spicy and an award winning author. She has a BA in Management Information Systems from the University of Central Oklahoma that includes a vocal minor. She loves the NFL, the NBA, musical theater, travel, reading, writing and just to scratch the singing itch…. karaoke. She is a member Romance Writers of American and The Beau Monde chapter. She currently serves as editor of both, the Regency Reader and Novel Notes Authors newsletters. Kathy lives in Edmond, OK with her attorney and musically talented husband, Al. She has one grown daughter with an adorable baby boy and another on the way, and one bossy cat, who acts as if she were the rescuer rather than the rescue-e!!
contact info:

kathylwheeler.com
https://facebook.com/kathylwheeler

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“10 Moments That Changed My Life” by Kathryn Lively & Her Latest Release: Finish What You Started

I love that I have back to back ’10 Moments’ posts. They are sooo interesting. Please help me welcome Kathryn Lively, who is also sharing her latest release…

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Thank you for having me here today!

When I sat down to write this post, I thought it would be easy to recall ten memorable moments in my life. I came to find so many things have happened, I’m not sure what takes priority. Of course, some milestones are easier to pick than others, so I’ll give it a shot. And now, my Ten Moments, in no particular chronological order:

  1. Obviously, the day I had my daughter ranks high. She recently turned twelve, and I can still remember every detail of the day she was born. It was also the first of many days I gave up sleep, but it was worth it to see her grow.
  2. My wedding day was pretty memorable as well. We married in Florida in 80 degree weather and no AC in the church…because they didn’t want the candles to blow out. At least you can’t see us sweat in the photos.
  3. The first time I sold a short story, I was 19. I received an envelope in the mail, thin. That usually means a rejection, so imagine my shock when I opened it and found a check.
  4. The first time I was offered a book contract, I was in my late 20s. The publisher was kind enough to call, so I guess that was “the call.”
  5. I love to travel, and my first visit to Europe with my father to research our roots will remain one of my favorite memories. I wish I could travel more, and I would definitely go back.
  6. I also love music, and live concerts. I’ve had the pleasure of seeing many great acts, including Paul McCartney for his “Back in the US” tour. We drove three hours to the show, and at one point it seemed like my car wasn’t going to make it. Scary, but we managed to get there in time.
  7. The first time I attended a convention for romance authors overwhelmed me, but I enjoyed myself. I got to meet many authors I knew previously online, and to meet authors I’ve read for years.
  8. I visit New York often, usually once a year, but the first time I stayed in Manhattan was part of a school trip. We went to a Broadway show and met all the side characters from David Letterman’s show, and ate expensive cheesecake. Every time I go there’s something new to see.
  9. I have many fond memories of family reunions and holidays, but the year my grandmother turned 100 was something special. Longevity runs in the family, too, so I may just attend another centennial soon.
  10. Lastly, this entire year has been memorable – not always in a good way. There have been upsides, though. I had two stories published, and the Cubs won the pennant! I’m hoping next year will show improvement.

Fantastic, Kathyrn. I think you rose to the challenge nicely. Thank you for joining me. Ha, yes, the Cubs finally did it! Let’s see how they fare in the World Series. They are off to a decent start!  

fwys

About the Book

In this business, it gets hot under the spotlight…

Once a teen idol, Gabby Randall now spends her time behind the camera. With her show Danse Macabre scripted and a greenlit for a popular streaming site, she has everything she wants…except her star. Deadlines are looming and she’s desperate to cast the role of a modern-day, motorcycle-riding Grim Reaper. She never thought she’d end up hiring her former co-star, TV’s most beloved geek…and her ex-husband.

Until the day he dies, people will remember Dash Gregory as Freddie ‘Grody’ Grodin, the token geek friend of the cool kids at Wondermancer High. After years of casting agents overlooking him for plum roles, Dash wants to show Hollywood he’s more than a one-note player. He’s ready to break the vicious typecasting cycle, and he’s set his sights on the lead role in a sexy new series too hot for network TV.

When the director yells “Cut!” the star wants to keep up the action behind the scenes. Are Dash and Gabby willing to make ratings history again?

Buy Links

https://www.amazon.com/Finish-What-Started-ExStream-Love-ebook/dp/B01GRWHKLG

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-finishwhatyoustarted-2077389-177.html

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/finish-what-you-started-kathryn-lively/1123895167?ean=9781786510501

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/finish-what-you-started-5

 

Excerpt

April, 2006, Las Vegas

Gregory. She was Gabby Gregory now. Or perhaps she should hyphenate to Randall-Gregory, and use her given name, Gabrielle. Maybe that would make her appear mature, and more professional when she met with prospective agents to help her transition from TV ingénue to a place behind the camera.

In her left hand she held the current issue of People Magazine, the cover of which featured her with the other five principals of Wondermancer High, the television show that had served as her work and home for the past six years. In her right, a marriage certificate affirming her union with Dash Gregory bent in her tightening grip. It had happened only an hour ago, and if she brought the paper closer she could smell the printer ink. Her thumb brushed the black-marker signature of the minister, a middle-aged Johnny Cash impersonator with authentic sideburns and a paunch. Dash had insisted using a fake Elvis seemed too cliché, and that his late father—a Cash fan—would have gotten a kick out of it.

Gabby had conceded easily. She’d have stood before a showgirl in all her ostrich plumage and glitter if it meant a legitimate marriage. The Cash impersonator hadn’t recognized either of them, which was good. He didn’t fit their show’s demographic, and apparently he didn’t have a teenager who forced him to sit in front of the set every Thursday evening at eight.

She set the license on the nightstand to prevent further creases, then focused on the magazine. Good Luck, Graduates! read the headline, in reference to the series finale due to air next month. Sadness barely touched her as she recalled the emotion and angst which had pervaded the set when they’d filmed their final scenes. Relief was more like it. She’d played the part of Tula Truebend for six seasons, and as far as the country knew, her real life mirrored that of the prim, straight-A student aspiring to the upper echelons of the magical world. Hardly. Her grades, passable enough to let her continue acting, wouldn’t get her into Harvard. She hadn’t planned on college, anyway.

With the series behind her now, she couldn’t wait to pursue a career as a screenwriter and producer—to create rather than regurgitate. First order of business—develop a project for Dash.

Of the six main actors on the paranormal-set show—created to capitalize on the success of the Harry Potter franchise—her new husband stood to suffer the most typecasting. While she’d played the brain, a pretty one to boot, he’d been the token geek. Glasses, perpetually bent wand, goofy laugh, and no fashion sense. The showrunners had neglected all requests to mature Freddie Grodin toward the end of the run, leaving ‘Grody’ to remain a beloved yet awkward and inept nerd in the eyes of Wondermancer High fans.

She promised herself Dash would have a long acting career, and not in variations of the same role. What the hell was taking so long with him, anyway? He’d gone for water…had he tried the Hoover Dam first?

The handle of their room’s door jerked and rattled, startling her. On instinct, she clutched the full-length robe she wore tighter around her chest. When they’d stood exposed on Fremont Street, walking from the chapel to the hotel, she’d fretted over possible discovery from fans and paparazzi. Instead people had brushed past them, oblivious. Only in a city like this could that happen, she realized.

“Finally,” Dash muttered and entered the room. “I hate these damn keycards. They only work half the time.” A plastic bag, heavy with bottles and snacks, hung from his forearm, and he wore his favorite Dodgers cap pulled low over his face. Gabby smiled upon seeing it, especially since Dash really didn’t need to wear it to conceal his identity. Without the taped-up glasses and slicked-back hair the world saw on Grody each week, Dash as himself resembled nothing of the character he played. She envied his ability to roam free.

No, Dash was gorgeous with his clear blue eyes and a hint of stubble shadowing his firm jaw. He removed the cap and ruffled his short hair, adding to his adorably scruffy look.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she told him, and approached him for a hug. “I don’t like being here by myself.”

“Hey.” He took the magazine from her and set it next to the license, then enveloped her in his arms. He felt safe, warm. “It’s okay. Didn’t I tell you we’d be all right? It’s official, we’re married, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

“I keep thinking somebody saw us downstairs.” Visions bloomed in her mind of photographers stalking each floor of the hotel, disguising themselves as room service. Fans pulling out their cell phones or running for the nearest pay phone to tell their friends, or worse, announce it to the world via their MySpace pages and that new site, Twitter. Guess what…we saw Tula and Grody in Vegas! Why would they be here, checking into the same hotel room? Ooooh!

Friends tell other friends. Somebody knows a guy at the Enquirer. He calls his contact in Vegas. Somebody calls her parents…in three seconds the SWAT team will kick down their door…

 

 

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About the Author

Kathryn Lively is an award-winning writer and editor, avid Whovian, and Rush (the band) fan. She loves chocolate and British crisps and is still searching for a good US dealer of Japanese Kit Kat bars.

Kathryn is a regular contributor to the Sexy To Go authors group and enjoys the outdoors, when she’s able to get out.

You can take a look at Kathryn’s Blog (http://www.kathrynlively.com) and follow her on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/Kathryn-Lively-Author-674430962660461/?fref=ts) and Twitter (http://www.twitter.com/MsKathrynLively).

 

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Filed under 10 Moments that Changed My Life, Author Blog Post, New Release

“10 Moments That Changed My Life” by Author Nancy Lee Badger & New Release: SMOKE, Clan of Dragons, Book #2 

I am pleased to introduce today’s guest, Nancy Lee Badger, who is sharing the moments that changed her life and her latest release…

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10 Moments That Changed my Life

…and turned me into an author

1) I learned to dance as a child, in hand- sewn costumes, and found I had rhythm and pacing.

2) I roller-skated with my sisters and cousins, then became quite a good figure skater. Balance and control, anybody?

3) I got eyeglasses in 2nd grade, a defining moment, and learned others can be cruel. I try not to be.

4) Bell-bottom jeans and a midriff-baring top caught the eye of a college boy who became my husband, and I learned how to share my future.

5) I earned a B.S. in art education, but a lack of teaching jobs turned me into a hardware store employee, which made us able to afford an old house in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, our first home.

6) Insulating, adding a new roof, chimney, plumbing, and new windows in a c1860 house made me realize I could live anywhere, in anything, and survive.

7) Growing up with sisters, the birth of my first son caught me by surprise. Raising two sons opened me up to cub scouts, camping, and snakes.

8) NH Highland Games, Hospital Auxiliary, EMT, Firefighter…volunteering has helped me be a better person.

9) Selling my first book made me realize I could actually be a published author.

10) Publishing my 17th book, SMOKE, has changed my life!

 

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Book Blurb

Wynn, a green dragon, tumbles off a hill, landing in snow. Sensing someone above his head, he jumps free, and accidentally slams a wolf against a tree. When the wolf shifts into a naked human female, explanations are in order. When she wakes, and Wynn says he means her no harm, she allows his human brother to carry her into a cave, where Vika cares for her. Wary about the golden-haired shifter’s mission, Wynn fears for her safety, and his heart.

While tracking the human who murdered her lover, Kera awakens to find a dragon staring at her. With no energy to shift back into her wolf form, she allows Vika, a pretty human, to care for her. The dragons take up her search for a killer, but the pirates close in and she leads Vika to safety.

In the village of Morbhan, Toal abducts her and Wynn fights him. Her wolf pack wants her back, but the dragon has stolen her heart. Will she stay, return to her pack, or die while trying to kill her lover’s murderer? Either way, their lives will forever change.

Excerpt from SMOKE, Clan of Dragons, Bk#2

The dragon moved toward her as it circled the tree. Its long white fangs glistened, and its hot breath melted the snow at her feet. Kera searched the area for a weapon. Unfortunately, the snow around the tree was heavy, and had covered everything.

Gazing upward, she thought to grab a limb and climb to safety, but she stopped when an odd voice said, “I apologize.” Who spoke to her in the presence of a dragon? Curiosity would be her downfall someday, but she peered from behind the tree and saw the green dragon, and only the dragon.

“Did you…say something?”

I be speaking to a dragon? Did I hit me head as well?

“Aye, lass,” the dragon said. “I apologized. I did not mean to throw you so hard, but your wolf form surprised me. There be friends of mine nearby whom I wish to protect. I can…ahh…see you be not only a wolf.”

With her secret out, a weight lifted from her shoulders. “I, also, apologize. I hope I did not hurt you by walking on your head. I heard something fall from the mountain, then I smelled you and…I was too curious for me own good.”

“You have a lovely smile, but I see pain in your eyes. Be you injured?”

She nodded, then immediately wondered if admitting her vulnerability made her a target. While contemplating her next move, the dragon leaned closer and sniffed her hip.

“No blood. You should come with me.”

Before she could answer with a resounding nay, a roar shook the tree, and dumped snow from the branches above them, onto their heads. The cold blanket of white powder stole her breath, and the ground rumbled beneath her feet. She clasped the tree’s trunk to stay on her feet. Pain sliced along her leg, and brought tears to her eyes.

Kera gained her balance, and peeked again. Another dragon had joined the first, and he looked angry. Smoke curled from his nostrils, and his red scales glistened like fresh-spilled blood. His black wings flapped, sending waves of cold wind directly at her, and the tree.

“Calm yourself, brother. The lass be injured, and not a threat to anyone.” The green dragon moved closer, and shielded Kera with his white wings.

“I smell wolf and human. You know how I feel about humans!”

 

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Buy Links

Amazon    Amazon CAN    Amazon UK    Amazon AUS

Amazon Print   Barnes and Noble Print   B-A-M   Book Depository

More About the Author

Nancy Lee Badger loves chocolate-chip shortbread, wool plaids wrapped around the trim waist of a Scottish Highlander, the clang of broadswords, and the sound of bagpipes in the air. After growing up in Huntington, New York, and raising two handsome sons in New Hampshire, Nancy moved to North Carolina where she writes full-time. Nancy is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, Triangle Association of Freelancers, and the Celtic Heart Romance Writers. Nancy and her family volunteer each fall at the New Hampshire Highland Games surrounded by…kilts!   

Connect with Nancy Lee Badger

Blog     Website     Twitter    Facebook   Goodreads     Amazon Author Page

 

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Filed under 10 Moments that Changed My Life, Author Blog Post, New Release

Tuesday Two-Minute Writing Tip – Making the Most of Twitter

Got two minutes? Then check out this week’s quick tip ~ A list of handy Twitter tips

Hello and welcome…I am a freelance editor and an editor for The Wild Rose Press, as well as an author. I often struggle with my own writing, and I have found that sometimes, a little reminder of ways to improve the process can be helpful, so, I like to share these moments of brilliance with others :). But, in this busy world of ours, who has time for pages and pages of writing tips? That’s why I’ve condensed mine down to quick flashes you can read in (approximately) two minutes. Enjoy…

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Disclaimer: All of my tips are suggestions, and are only my opinion. And, for the most part, there are exceptions when going against my advice will make your story read better. Take what works, leave the rest.

 

Tips to get noticed, get retweets, gain followers, or to simply make your Twitter life easier:

  • Although Twitter allows 140 characters, it’s best to not use them all. Shorter tweets are more effective.
  • As everyone knows by now, tweets with images get more notice
  • Ask people to retweet you. The most effective way is to simply add: Please Retweet
  • Use no more than TWO hashtags. More looks spammy
  • Size matters… Images that are smaller than 440 x 222 will not show up in your timeline, only a link to the image does. The max image size is 3MB
  • If you do not want people to tag you without your permission, you can go to your Twitter Privacy settings and specify the tagging you wish to allow. You can remove tags by going to the … ‘more’ beneath a tweet and select ‘remove tag from photo’
  • Use #tweetchat to set up chats by using an exclusive hashtag. I haven’t tried this yet, but I’m going to. Worth a shot, right? http://tweetchat.com/
  • This is more than just a Twitter tip. I’m not sure I understand exactly, but from what I’ve read, it’s worth checking into. It is a service that you can use to trigger actions throughout various web/social media services. It’s more than just linking Facebook and Twitter. There seems to be a number of amazing things you can do with it. IFTTT http://www.pcmag.com/article2/0,2817,2424077,00.asp
  • Did you know Twitter backs up everything you tweet? In settings there is a “Request your archive” option. You will receive an email containing a link to download a ZIP file of your tweets.
  • Track the clicks you get on links you share. Many sites provide this service, for example, Clicktotweet provides full analytics on clicks from your followers. You can also click the Gear icon on Twitter.com and select “Twitter Ads” for a quick look at how many people clicked the links in your recent tweets.
  • To share an image of a tweet on other social media outlets, or blogs, etc, use the ‘embed’ feature. Click on … more and choose ‘embed’ to get the code.   
  • Direct link to FB post or Tweet –  Click the ‘more’ and an option to ‘copy link to tweet’ will come up.
  • Retweet for others frequently. The more you do, the more others are likely to RT you.
  • If you wish to add an image to a composed tweet so that, when others share the tweet (copy and paste the content, not share a link), an image will appear, you’ll want to use Hoosuite. (A tip…I always try to keep all my links somewhere to refer to. Once you have an image link, you can use it over and over again.) Send out a tweet containing the image. Go to Hootsuite and find the tweet in your feed. Below the tweet, find the ‘retweet’ option and click on the drop down arrow. An option will come up to ‘edit.’ Choose that option and your tweet will appear in a box at the top of the page. The very last link in that box should be your image link. Copy that and insert it into a tweet and the image should show up.
  • Find and gain more followers by using http://twiends.com/home
  • Tweet the same content multiple times. The lifespan of a tweet is about 18 minutes. To increase the likelihood of a tweet being seen, tweet out the same tweet multiple times in one day. I wouldn’t do this to several tweets, but if there is something in particular you want to be seen, focus on tweeting it several times. This is when Buffer and Hootsuite will come in handy. You’ll need to make some minor tweaks so you won’t get a message that you’ve already sent that tweet. 
  • Add questions in your retweets and/or tweets to increase engagement and visibility. You can also create polls for more interaction. 
  • I’ll end with a list of the most retweetable words:

You

Twitter

Please

ReTweet

Post

Blog

Social

Free

Media

Help

Please retweet

Great

Social Media

10

Follow

How to

Top

Blog post

Check out

New blog post

(words to avoid, for some reason, ‘Game’, ‘going’, ‘haha’ and ‘lol’)

Until next time…Happy Tweeting!

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ONLY 99 cents!! 

(Click on the cover to be taken to the Amazon Buy Page)

2 minute writing tip final

 

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*** If you would like to send me a few sample pages (around 7500 words or so, even though I will not edit that many on the blog. It just gives me more to choose from) for me to edit and share on an upcoming blog post, please do so in the body of an email to AliciaMDean@aol.com. Please use the subject line: “Blog Submission” This is for published or unpublished authors. In the email, please include whether you would like me to use your name or keep it anonymous, and whether or not you would like me to include any contact info or buy info for your books. Also, you can let me know if you would like for me to run my edits by you before posting on the blog. Please keep in mind, this is for samples to use for blog posts. I will not edit or use samples from all the submissions I receive, but I will use as many as possible. 

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16

How to write a novel? That is the question. There are probably as many answers to that question as there are people who ask it.

Wanting to write and actually doing it are two very different things. I am well acquainted with the sometimes grueling process of churning out a story. Over the years, I have tried many methods for creating and completing manuscripts, and have tweaked and honed it down to a workable (for me) process.

Using specific examples from one of my own novels, Without Mercy, I share my method in this mini how to book. The first eight steps actually deal with plotting while the last two are designed to help expand your outline into a well-developed draft. There is no one, perfect way to create a story, but there will be a method, or methods that work for you. I’m not sure if this is the one, but it works for me. Only you can decide if it also works for you. Fingers crossed that it does!

*** Warning – Please do not purchase without reading a sample. (This is solid advice for any book, fiction or non. If you are not intrigued in the sample, you will likely not enjoy the book)

Amazon: Click Here

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Filed under For Writers, Promo Tips, Tips from an Editor, Tuesday Two-Minute Tips

Halloween Romance: Portrait of Love (The Picture of Dorian Gray)

Last year, my OKRWA writing chapter held a fun contest where participants were challenged to write a 500 word story with a ‘monster’ as the romance hero. I’ll be sharing a few of those on my blog between now and Halloween.  Enjoy!

FROM ANNA KITTRELL

The Picture of Dorian Gray is my favorite book. I love Oscar Wilde’s unmatched wit and timeless storytelling. Funny, heartbreaking, terrifying—the tale has it all. And I find the story’s premise so intriguing: Lord Henry, a twinkle in his eye, corrupting an innocent young man for his own amusement. Destroying a beautiful life filled with promise—just to see if he can. The creepy portrait, riddled and oozing with Dorian’s sins—while he stays young and gorgeous—is the icing on the cake. So it isn’t any wonder that when I imagine the perfect monster, I always “picture” Dorian Gray (sorry, couldn’t resist).

Please enjoy this twist on my very favorite monster tale of all time, The Picture of Dorian Gray. After all, the scariest devils are the ones painted on the inside.

Portrait of Love

Dorian stepped to the easel, pulled the drape from the canvas, and turned to face the mirror on the opposite wall. Comparing himself to the portrait was an activity to which he was well accustomed. He’d repeated the habit several times daily for the past hundred years. However, today the reason behind the ritual was quite different. Instead of seeking out changes with his usual morbid fascination, Dorian searched the grotesque features for consistency.

He scrutinized the portrait alongside his reflection. The murky eyes, glazed with the film of unatoned sin hadn’t resembled his own in years—but had they changed since yesterday?

He squinted, expecting to find a new cataract on one milky iris or a fresh boil on the surrounding wrinkled skin. He found nothing. The same brown blotches marred the gnarled fingers. The same arthritic bend stooped the back. For the first time since its creation, the painting hadn’t changed one iota.

Dorian checked the time. Seven p.m. Lydia would be there any moment. Exquisite Lydia. Down in whatever cancerous sliver of soul he had left, he knew she was the reason behind the painting’s sudden refusal to alter. After a century-long quest for pleasure, Dorian had found what his hardened heart searched for all along. Love. He adored Lydia, and tonight he would tell her so.

Footfalls echoed on the stairs. Dorian sucked in a breath, snatched the sheet from the floor, and flung it over the portrait.

“I let myself in,” Lydia said, dragging her eyes over him. “Mmm…don’t you look tasty.” She wrapped her red-tipped fingers around his tie. “Mr. Gray, this suit reminds me of another Mr. Grey whom I’ve read a great deal about.”

He pulled her close. “Perhaps we should stay in tonight. You can compare our…techniques.”

She nibbled his ear, stopping abruptly. “What are you hiding?”

Dorian’s heartbeat stalled. “Hiding? Nothing—”

“What is this?” She pulled away, touching the draped canvas.

Her movement shocked his heart like a defibrillator. “It’s—a surprise. You mustn’t see until it’s finished.”

“Surprise? Is it painting of me?”

“Patience, dear. Soon you’ll see.” He led her away from the portrait, making a mental list of artists he knew. He could surely commission one to paint his beautiful Lydia.

Halfway down the staircase, Lydia touched her throat. “I left my scarf in your room.” She kissed his cheek and dashed back upstairs.

A scream exploded above. Dorian bounded the stairs and burst into his bedroom.

“Is this a joke?” Lydia shrieked, staring at the portrait. “This is how you see me? An ugly old hag?”

“Let me explain.”

She threw the canvas to the floor and stomped it with her stiletto heel.

Grimacing, Dorian clutched his chest.

“What’s happened to your face?” she cried. “Dorian, you’re a monster!”

Dorian collapsed. He clawed the floor, searching for the portrait.

“I love you, Lydia,” he whispered as his hand stilled upon the torn canvas.

From between his gnarled fingers, peered the innocent blue eyes of youth.

Check out Anna’s spooky romantic suspense short story:

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Blurb:

An ancient scrimshaw doll–does its gypsy magic protect? Or destroy?

As a child, Darcy Vaughan cowered beneath the malice of her twin sister, Scarlett. Now, Scarlett is back and Darcy hopes to establish the sisterly bond she’s always longed for. Instead, Scarlett tries to destroy Darcy’s life–and her new relationship with the town doctor.

Dr. Cabin Creighton returned to his hometown near Lake Chickasha, Oklahoma to take over his father’s practice. One look at Darcy and Cabin wants nothing more than to love her forever. But a guilty heart and memories of his deceased wife are holding him back.

When someone from Scarlett’s past reappears, bad things start to happen. Darcy and Cabin struggle to keep their love alive, but as danger draws closer, Darcy finds herself once more at her sister’s mercy, with nothing but the yellowed bones of an ancient doll to protect her.

Excerpt:

In the center of the doll’s chest bloomed an intricate rose. Cabin explored the flower with his fingers, fascinated by the small carving which held more detail than all the doll’s other attributes combined.

“So, it just pulls out a magical Tommy-gun and blasts the person it sees harming you?” he asked, pointing the doll’s arm at a lamp on the end table.

Darcy smiled and shook her head. “Not quite.”

“What is it, then? Is the doll psychic?”

She frowned. “I think it’s more like karma, in a way. It discerns the aura of the betrayer…feeds on the negative thoughts. The betrayer has to knowingly betray the doll’s owner, or at least have intent of wrongdoing. Some trace of malice the doll can pick up on.”

Intent of wrongdoing. Cabin thought of Samantha, how he’d watched her waste away, nothing but skin stretched over bones at the end. How he hadn’t done anything to help her. He shook away the thoughts, but couldn’t shake the guilt.

“And what sort of…things happen to the betrayer?”

“Oh, it can be anything from a mild annoyance to…worse, depending on the level of betrayal.”

“I’d better watch my step around you,” he spoke to the doll as he straightened its dress. He turned and looked into Darcy’s eyes, haltingly bringing his hand to her face, tracing her features. She closed her eyes. He wanted her, wanted to feel alive again, even though he didn’t deserve to.

“Only true love breaks the spell…” she murmured.

Cabin jerked his hand from her cheek. The movement knocked the doll from his lap, tumbling it onto the hardwood.

Darcy’s eyes sprung open. “Oh, I’m so sorry. How stupid of me to say that—”

A rough bang on the front door caused Darcy to gasp and widen her eyes. She jumped up, scooping the doll from the floor as she crossed the room.

Cabin followed, standing close behind her. She cracked the door open.

“Really? This is how you treat your sister? Your twin?” Scarlett pushed past Darcy, into the living room.

“What—”

“You promised to check on me. I had a coughing spasm and very well could have died in that house all by myself.” She shook a cigarette from her pack, looked around the room, then slid it back in.

“May I intervene?” Cabin asked, his piercing gaze aimed at Scarlett. “You’re perfectly fine. I would have sent you to the hospital if I’d thought otherwise. As for the coughing spasm…you can blame those cigarettes for that.”

“Thank you, Dr. Drew. I’ll check into Celebrity Rehab right away.” She cackled, her breath reeking of alcohol. She turned to Darcy, snatching the doll from her hand. “Where did you get this?” she demanded. “How many crap-filled Dumpsters did you have to dive into before you found the ridiculous thing? They should’ve buried these dried up bones right along with that crotchety old bat’s.” She pumped the doll’s legs in a suggestive manner and laughed, holding it from reach as Darcy grabbed for it.

Cabin circled Scarlett’s wrists with one hand, twisting the doll free with the other, and handed it to Darcy.

“My, you are a strong one.” Scarlett batted her lashes over bloodshot eyes. “I can certainly see why my sister…my twin sister…has such a bad case of Cabin fever.” She turned on her stilettoed heel and staggered through the doorway, onto the porch. “I hope you can remedy that, doctor.” She laughed as Cabin shut the door.

Darcy nestled the doll’s face into her neck, stroking its hair. “Scarlett makes it so hard. All I want to do is help her. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to be around this again.” She motioned from herself to the wall separating her house from Scarlett’s.

“Well, that would screw up my next move.”

Click HERE to buy

Other Books by Anna:

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Bio:

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Anna works as a middle school secretary in her beloved hometown of Anadarko, Oklahoma, where she resides with her high school sweetheart-turned-husband, Tim. She has written for as long as she can remember. She still has most of her tattered creations—leftover stories she was unable to sell on the playground for a dime—written in childish handwriting on notebook paper, bound with too many staples. Her love of storytelling has grown throughout the years, and she is thrilled her tales are now worth more than ten cents.

Contact Links

Anna Kittrell Amazon Author Page/Books http://alturl.com/bchbw

Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/AKittrell

email kittrellbooks@gmail.com

 

 

 

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Filed under Author Blog Post, Entertainment

Ramblings of a Lifelong Elvis Fan – Part 86 – The Guest House at Graceland

[INTRO: I am a die hard, card carrying Elvis fan and have been for as long as I can remember. There is so much about Elvis to love; his incredible singing voice, his generous spirit, his looks (the most gorgeous man ever), his movies (yes, his movies. They make me happy, so critics can just shush), his service in the army, his magical presence on stage, his transcendent charisma, and…I could go on and on. As a matter of fact, on my 50th post, I believe it was, I DID go on and on. I listed 50 things I love about Elvis. It wasn’t difficult. I am an author and I mention Elvis in almost every story I write. I named my son Presley. I was fortunate to see Elvis in concert three times. I have been to Graceland five times… See? I love Elvis. I have been blogging weekly for more than a year, but going forward, I will blog every 1st and 3rd Friday of the month. My life is insanely busy and I found myself missing weeks from time to time. This way, I’m more likely to be consistent. Hopefully, even if you are not an Elvis fan, you appreciate something about him and will find my posts interesting. Feel free to comment. Thank you so much for stopping by!]

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Oh my gosh, have you SEEN this? On October 27, 2016, the brand new hotel, The Guest House at Graceland, will open. It looks magnificent!!! I must stay there before I die. The rooms are a little pricey, but totally worth it. Look at this gorgeous lobby:

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The hotel has 450 guest rooms, some of them with really cool themes.

Such as…

The King’s Suites, one of which is inspired by Elvis’ bedroom at Graceland, the other by Las Vegas decor with both vintage and contemporary accouterments. 

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Vernon & Gladys Suites – Decorate with mid-century flair and inspired by Elvis’ Palm Springs home.

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There are also the TCB & Living Room Suites. Is anyone else surprised there is no Jungle Room suite? I would imagine that even the ‘regular’ rooms are fabulous. I would love to stay in a special-theme room, but I’d be content with the least expensive one.

I am utterly in awe and would LOVE to visit there some day. Not only is it spectacular, but just being at Graceland is a feeling that is indescribable. It’s somehow both thrilling and heart wrenching, and as I’ve mentioned before, there is an almost tangible presence there. As if Elvis’ essence was so strong, it remains. I can imagine how much more amazing the entire experience would be if I stayed at this new hotel. Surrounded by so many Elvis related items and people would be heavenly.

Here is a pic of me with my three kids and my niece when we visited Graceland a few years back. We stayed at The Heartbreak Hotel, and I’m so glad we did since it has now been torn down.

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Maybe I’ll make it to The Guest House at Graceland some day… When I DO go, believe me, I’ll be sharing all about my experience right here. 🙂

You can find out more at the site: http://guesthousegraceland.com/

Have a wonderful weekend!

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EOLS Charity

Elvis was known for his giving heart and charitable work during his lifetime. Lisa Marie and Elvis Presley Enterprises have continued that tradition with their involvement in various charities. In 1984, The Elvis Charitable Foundation was formed. The EPCF created a scholarship fund for students majoring in the arts. The charity also contributes to one of Elvis’ favorite charities, Goodwill Homes, a Memphis facility that provides counseling and services for abused children and their families. The EPCF also assists numerous other charities, especially focusing on arts, education and children’s programs.

Learn more here, including how to donate:

http://www.graceland.com/epcf/

END OF LONELY STREET – Now Only 99 Cents!

On Elvis’ birthday this year, I released a Vintage Romance short story set in 1957, and of course, my heroine is an Elvis fan. 🙂 As a tribute to Elvis’ generosity, and in order to assist with this worthy cause, 10% of my proceeds for End of Lonely Street will go to the EPCF.

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All Toby Lawson wants is to go to college to become a teacher and to be free of her alcoholic mother and some painful memories. But when her mother nearly burns the house down, Toby must put her dreams on hold and return home to care for her. The only time she isn’t lonely and miserable is when she’s listening to her heartthrob, Elvis Presley. His music takes her away and helps her escape from everything wrong in her life.

Noah Rivers has always loved Toby, but no matter what he says, she can‘t get past the fact that her drunken mother once kissed him. He soon realizes the true problem lies in Toby’s belief she’s not good enough for him and in her fear she will be just like her mother.

What will it take to prove to her that she deserves to be happy, and that he would give anything to be the man to make her dreams come true?

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Filed under Elvis Presley, Entertainment

Tuesday Two-Minute Writing Tip – The Backstory Conundrum

Got two minutes? Then check out this week’s quick tip ~ How and when to share backstory 

Hello and welcome…I am a freelance editor and an editor for The Wild Rose Press, as well as an author. I often struggle with my own writing, and I have found that sometimes, a little reminder of ways to improve the process can be helpful, so, I like to share these moments of brilliance with others :). But, in this busy world of ours, who has time for pages and pages of writing tips? That’s why I’ve condensed mine down to quick flashes you can read in (approximately) two minutes. Enjoy…

TWoMinuteTip

Disclaimer: All of my tips are suggestions, and are only my opinion. And, for the most part, there are exceptions when going against my advice will make your story read better. Take what works, leave the rest.

The age old question…how much backstory is too much? The answer… in your opening pages, pretty much ANY backstory is too much. Readers want to be dropped into the middle of the action. They don’t want to know about what a rough week your protagonist has had (we’ll call him Jonathan). How when Jonathan was a child, he  dreamed of being a fireman or an astronaut. But boy did things take a wrong turn. Stuck in a crappy job as an insurance adjuster. He hadn’t wanted to take the position, but his father had recommended him and he had little choice. After all, his father had pretty much controlled him his entire life. A dead-end job and a crappy relationship. Although, he didn’t have to worry about that anymore. His girlfriend had dumped him. They’d been together since college, since the time they met at that party. It had been an immediate attraction. They’d begun dating and hadn’t been apart since. Until two days ago when she told him it was over. That she was seeing someone else. Oh well, they’d drifted apart. It was inevitable. Better that it happened now, instead of when they were married with kids. But, would he ever find the right person? Was there truly one soul mate out there for everyone? If so, he might never meet the person he was meant to be with. Heck, he might not survive the night. Jonathan took a deep, trembling breath and stared at the man aiming a gun at his chest.

What????? He has a gun aimed at his chest and we had to read all that prattle about his job and relationship and past? Nooo….let’s open with the guy holding the gun on him. If any of that other stuff is important, you can trickle it in later. When the situation calls for it.

Many authors, especially beginners, want readers to know everything about their characters up front. It’s not necessary. In fact, it’s boring. You want to engage readers in the here and now. If you want to briefly establish your character in their normal world before the inciting incident, that’s fine. But ‘briefly’ is the key word. And, establishing the character in their normal world is different than explaining about their childhood, letting us know how they met every character in the scene, how they got their job, how they ended up moving to their current location, what happened in the days preceding, etc.

A few examples of my openings (not that they are the BEST examples, but they are the only examples I can use without getting into trouble:)And, unfortunately, neither of them have riveting opening lines, but that’s something I can’t always pull off. Sigh…)

From Devil’s Promenade:

I peered through the snow-dusted windshield at the large house looming in the evening dusk, and an unwarranted shiver of foreboding washed over my flesh.

From behind the wheel, my driver, Rita, made a sound that was somewhere between a squeak of trepidation and a sigh of admiration. “It’s huge. And gorgeous, but kind of creepy, don’t you think?” Her eyes were big and round behind the lenses of her black cat-eye frames.

“It is indeed.” The sprawling structure was a combination of Southern plantation and Greek revival architecture; painted white and trimmed in a darker colored molding—perhaps forest green. The exact color was difficult to make out in the descending dusk. Narrow, darkened floor-to-ceiling windows peeked from between a portico of six Doric columns. Hanging by chains above the porch, a wooden board flapped in the icy wind. Spook Light Bed and Breakfast. The sign should have been welcoming, yet apprehension clawed at my heart.

Might as well get over that silliness. This would be my home for the next two weeks while I learned all I could about the Hornet Spook Light. The phenomenon, also known as the Tri-State Spook Light, Joplin Spook Light, Devil’s Jack-O-Lantern, and a few other nicknames, had supposedly been spotted multiple times over the last few centuries in this area, at the border of Oklahoma, Missouri, and Kansas. I was here to do research for my book—The Myth of Otherworldly Occurrences. I chuckled and rolled my eyes. The only thing otherworldly about this place was its location thousands of miles from my warm, sunny home in Florida.

I gave a brief reason for her being there, but I didn’t say that her fiancé had jilted her for her sister, that she’s always wanted to be a writer, that she actually wanted to write novels, but had ended up writing non-fiction. That the flight to Oklahoma was smooth, except for the annoying man who sat next to her and talked loudly on his phone the entire time and smelled of garlic, that she didn’t have many friends, that she’d written several books already about various supposed supernatural phenomenons, that she was in the business of debunking them, what kind of childhood she had, etc, etc. Some, but not all, of those facts are sprinkled in later. Readers don’t want to know them just yet.

From Without Mercy:

China Beckett darted a glance across the bank lobby toward the front door. What were the odds she could escape undetected?

Not good, she decided. Even if she managed to slip out without being seen, her absence would be noticed. And Sophie would have an aneurysm.

Did she want to be a lousy employee or a lousy mother?

The choice was simple. She rose from her desk and headed past the teller line toward Sophie’s office.

“Everything okay?” China’s best friend, Vanessa Hanson, said from behind her desk.

This establishes China in her normal world, and in just a few pages, it explodes, almost literally. I didn’t go into detail about how she came to be a single mother, how she got the job at the bank, how long she’s been there, what she liked and didn’t like about it, how she’d met Vanessa, what had happened in the days leading up to now, etc. Again, I sprinkle that in as needed, much of it in dialogue. Which brings me to another point, you don’t have to provide details about characters’ history and/or traits in narrative. You can do that in dialogue, which readers often find more engaging. You don’t want to do it in an obvious way, unnatural way, such as, “China, you know your daughter Emma, whose father died while you were pregnant with her? Her asthma is really bad, isn’t it?” 🙂  Reveal it in a more natural and logical way.

But, getting back to backstory. It’s difficult to strike the perfect balance, and I certainly don’t succeed all the time, or even most of the time. The trick is to be aware and try to only share the details that matter at that moment. Save the rest for later, if it’s needed at all.

Try this…go through your story and highlight any section that is not in real time. If your story is riddled with highlights, and if the highlights are in the early pages, you might want to trim and/or move those paragraphs around.

Until next time…Happy Writing!

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ONLY 99 cents!! 

(Click on the cover to be taken to the Amazon Buy Page)

2 minute writing tip final

 

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*** If you would like to send me a few sample pages (around 7500 words or so, even though I will not edit that many on the blog. It just gives me more to choose from) for me to edit and share on an upcoming blog post, please do so in the body of an email to AliciaMDean@aol.com. Please use the subject line: “Blog Submission” This is for published or unpublished authors. In the email, please include whether you would like me to use your name or keep it anonymous, and whether or not you would like me to include any contact info or buy info for your books. Also, you can let me know if you would like for me to run my edits by you before posting on the blog. Please keep in mind, this is for samples to use for blog posts. I will not edit or use samples from all the submissions I receive, but I will use as many as possible. 

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16

How to write a novel? That is the question. There are probably as many answers to that question as there are people who ask it.

Wanting to write and actually doing it are two very different things. I am well acquainted with the sometimes grueling process of churning out a story. Over the years, I have tried many methods for creating and completing manuscripts, and have tweaked and honed it down to a workable (for me) process.

Using specific examples from one of my own novels, Without Mercy, I share my method in this mini how to book. The first eight steps actually deal with plotting while the last two are designed to help expand your outline into a well-developed draft. There is no one, perfect way to create a story, but there will be a method, or methods that work for you. I’m not sure if this is the one, but it works for me. Only you can decide if it also works for you. Fingers crossed that it does!

*** Warning – Please do not purchase without reading a sample. (This is solid advice for any book, fiction or non. If you are not intrigued in the sample, you will likely not enjoy the book)

Amazon: Click Here

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Filed under For Writers, Promo Tips, Tips from an Editor, Tuesday Two-Minute Tips