Welcome J.E. Taylor

Welcome to Day 2 of my Crystal Illusions release tour and I and I want to thank Roseanne Dowell for having me.

CRYSTAL ILLUSIONS by J.E. Taylor

Assistant D.A. Carolyn Hastings has an uncanny knack for putting away criminals. With one of the best prosecution records in recent history, her future as Manhattan’s next District Attorney looks certain. But her sixth sense for winning cases threatens to work against her when she starts seeing a string of murders through the eyes of the killer

With suspects piling up as fast as bodies, and the motives of those closest to her questionable, Carolyn doesn’t know who to trust. When the FBI assigns Special Agent Steve Williams to the case, Carolyn discloses her deepest fear - that the man she loves may be the one responsible for the city’s latest crime spree.

The only thing Steve knows for sure is Carolyn has an inexplicable psychic connection with the killer, and all the victims have one thing in common…a striking resemblance to Carolyn Hastings.

And he knows it’s only a matter of time before this psychopath knocks on her door.

Praise for CRYSTAL ILLUSIONS

“Taylor has a strong thriller where every single character has reasonable doubt flashing like a neon sign hanging over them, and right from the beginning you are trying to guess who the killer really is. Gripping, rich and magnificent - crime whodunnits don't get any better than this!” Author Poppet / Gemma Rice – Author of Quislings, Blindsided, Djinn and Dusan

Excerpt from CRYSTAL ILLUSIONS:

Randy turned his head in her direction, the hot shower had done nothing to quell his aggravation and he carefully examined his response. How do I explain a black eye and the blood on my clothing to the assistant D.A? It was almost laughable, but the earlier events had dampened his mood. The truth would land him in a shitload of trouble, but he couldn’t brush it off either. “I went to meet a client and got mugged on the way back.”

Carolyn’s eyes grew hard as she took a step back. “I had another vision.” She took another step toward the bathroom door.

Randy’s eyebrows drew together at the question in her eyes. A vision, shit. She thinks I’m responsible? The sudden realization of her thought process burned through him like a ravaged wild fire. “You think I…”

Carolyn bolted out of the room.

“Fuck!” Randy cursed and grabbed a towel, sliding on the tile floor as he made a bid to catch her. Her hands shook as she tried to navigate the dead bolt on the front door and he grabbed her arm before she figured out how to unlatch it. He had to stop her, to convince her it wasn’t him and he spun her toward him. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“But you weren’t mugged either!”

Randy’s shoulders slumped and his gaze traveled to the balcony and the bloody shoes. “No, I wasn’t mugged. But I’m not the Scarlet Psychopath either.” He brought his gaze back to hers.

“You were covered with blood when you came in, what the hell am I supposed to think?” She yanked her arm from his grasp. “And your face, that’s where she hit him with her purse.” Carolyn’s voice trembled as she pressed her back to the door.

The fear in her eyes churned his desperation into raging fury. She believed he was capable of murder, of killing innocent women—women that looked like her. “Go ahead, test the blood.” Randy pointed at the balcony, his anger bleeding from between his clenched teeth. “It’s beef and pork blood, from my family’s meat packing plant.” He turned and stormed back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He drew on a pair of jeans and returned to the living room “How the hell can you think I’m capable of that!” Anger radiated in waves.

Tears brimmed and slid down her cheeks. “Your trench coat, now this…”

“Jesus, Carolyn.” Randy ran his hand through his wet hair, her accusation stewing, stirring his anger into a tizzy.

“I couldn’t reach you the other night after the nightmare and tonight you weren’t here. Do you have an alibi for the other murders?”

Randy couldn’t believe her audacity, her ability to believe he was capable of such things. “If it happened at night, I was here. During the day I’m working.”

“Can anyone vouch for you?”

Randy’s jaw tightened, his teeth aching from the pressure. “I don’t know.”

Her head dropped to her chest and her lips pressed together. “I have to go.”

Of course she’s going to run. That’s what she does when things get tough. “I’ll take you home.” He turned before she could argue coming back moments later fully dressed. He grabbed his trench coat and ripped open the front door.

“Randy.” The glare he sent her stopped her in her tracks.

“You think I’m a murderer. What else can I say?” he snapped. “This…” He pointed between the two of them. “Is over.” He stabbed the down button and waited for the elevator.

-Crystal Illusions is available here ( http://www.amazon.com/Crystal-Illusions-Steve-Williams-ebook/dp/B007JBWCIQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1331505187&sr=8-1)

Thanks for joining me on this blog tour venture – and remember – I’ll be on tour throughout the month, including a giveaway over at Bitten By Books (www.bittenbybooks.com) on April 20^th, where you have a chance to win a $50 Amazon Gift Card.   I’ll be asking questions relating to my tour posts  – so check out my Crystal Illusions blog schedule for a chance to win.  (http://jetaylor75.blogspot.com)

J.E. Taylor is a writer, a publisher, an editor, a manuscript formatter, a mother, a wife and a business analyst, not necessarily in that order.  She first sat down to seriously write in February of 2007 after her daughter asked:
“Mom, if you could do anything, what would you do?”
From that moment on, she hasn’t looked back and now her writing resume includes six+ published novels along with several short stories on the virtual shelves including a few within eXcessica anthologies.
In addition to being co-owner of Novel Concept Publishing (www.novelconceptpublishing), Ms. Taylor also moonlights as an Assistant Editor of Allegory (www.allegoryezine.com), an online venue for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror. She has been known to edit a book or two and also offers her services judging writing contests for various RWA chapters.
She lives in Connecticut with her husband and two children and during the summer months enjoys her weekends on the shore in southern Maine. 

Visit her at www.jetaylor75.com

Secrets, Lies & Love

Hi, I’m Meghan Shelby. My parents moved away from Littleton when I was seventeen, but now,  ten years later, I’m back.


I inherited the family home, a Queen Anne Victorian from my Aunt Beth. I always loved that house, so needless to say I was excited when I received the letter from my aunt’s attorney. Not that my aunt passed away, I was very sad about that, but coming back to Littleton after all this time was exciting.

I’m not sure why we moved away in the first place. It was all kind of sudden and we never even came back when Gran passed away. I never knew why. Every time I asked, the question went ignored. Eventually, I quit asking.

Anyway, here I was back in the town I loved, standing in front of a dilapidated, rundown house that used to be one of the most elegant in town. Shutters hung by one hinge, windows broken, the porch floor rotted and the back door lock didn’t work.

How had Aunt Beth allowed this to happen? I was half afraid to go inside, but curiosity got the best of me and I ventured in. What a mess. It was going to take a lot of money to get this place back to its glory days. And the stench was almost unbearable. Well, no wonder, I discovered a dead body in the living room.

Who he was, or why he was there in my house, I had no idea. For some reason, the sheriff wasn’t convinced. To top it all off, he caught me in the arms of my new boss, the principal of the elementary school and the guy I had a crush on all those years ago. Oh, I was hired as school secretary, guess you need to know that.

Needless to say, I was the main topic of conversation around town the next day. Gossipmongers in Littleton were having a ball at my expense.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the next day several eighth grade boys caught the principal kissing me in his office. I’d never live it down. Not that I minded being kissed, especially by Patrick. I just didn’t need it spread all over town.

Once I hired a handyman to fix the windows and change the locks, I rolled up my sleeves and got busy scrubbing the place inside so we could paint. I hired high school kids for that job. There was only so much I could do with working full time. But at least I was able to move in.

That’s when more trouble started. Someone broke in and I received phone calls warning me to leave. Obviously, someone didn’t want me here. If you want to know more, you’re going to have to read the book.

Secrets, Lies, & Love is available from Amazon. http://amzn.to/zZznVG

Excerpt:

Meghan loved this time of year, though a little too hot to start school in her opinion. Why they felt the need to go back in August was beyond her. She remembered her mother complaining about it years ago. “What was wrong with starting after Labor Day like they did in my day?” Her mother used to rant and rave for weeks before school started. Even got on the School Board. Not that it changed anything. School still started the last week in August. Meghan smiled at the memory.

Now that she thought about it, it was silly. Like they took the last week of vacation away from the kids. Bet the teachers didn’t like it either.

Meghan pulled into the school parking lot. Not much had changed here either. New landscaping, new windows, but that was about it. The old building looked pretty much the same.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty hall. She’d never been in the school when it was empty before. The strong odor of wax and other cleaning products prickled her nostrils. The clean smell lingered through the first few days of school.

It had been a long time since she’d been to the principal’s office and she stopped outside, took a deep breath and held it. Here goes nothing. Mr. Duncan said look for Mr. Mac. He must be new in town. It wasn’t a name she remembered. So what was the worse he could say? Letting out her breath, she hurried inside, before her nerve left her. A man stood with his back to her, unpacking a box of books.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for Mr. Mac.”

“I’m Mr. Mac.” He turned toward her.

Meghan’s breath caught in her throat. “Patrick!” The word slipped out of her mouth, before she could stop it. The love of her life stood in front of her, even better looking and sexier than she remembered. Her heart skipped a beat, her legs turned to jelly, and she grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself.

Patrick smiled at her. That easy smile she remembered from long ago. The smile she used to love. It lit up his eyes.

“Little Meghan Shelby. Not so little anymore I see.”

Heat burned her cheeks as Patrick looked her up and down, apparently taking in every inch of her. He remembered her. After all this time he knew who she was. Would wonders never cease?

“Uh, um...” Oh crap. Now wasn’t the time to get tongue tied. “You’re the principal here?” Lord, could she work for him. See him every day?

“Yes, I am. I heard you were back in town. Are you staying then? Do you want to register your child?”

“Huh?” Her child, was he nuts? “Uh no I’m here about the secretarial position. Mr. Duncan was supposed to call you.”

“Really? You want the job?”

“Yes, didn’t Mr. Duncan call? He told me to come right over.”

“If he did I didn’t hear the phone. I’ve been in and out of the office.” He nodded toward the stack of books. “Too busy around here this time of year.” Patrick grinned and motioned her into his office. “So tell me about yourself. What qualifies you for the job?”

Qualifications? Think damn it. What was the matter with her? She’d lost all train of thought. “Well, I’m computer proficient. I’m good with math. And I love children.” What more could he want?

“I see. So why do you want the position? Tell me about your education.”

His deep voice sent shivers down her spine. Meghan couldn’t take her gaze from him. All sense of reason flew out the window. She had the most God awful urge to reach up and push his dark hair out of his eyes. “I’m a former Math major, have two years of college. I’m a quick learner.” Finally, she looked away.

Secrets, Lies, & Love is available from Amazon http://amzn.to/zZznVG
Website: http://www.roseannedowell.com/



VALENTINE CONTEST STARTS JANUARY 14th


Drawings will be February 14 - Valentine's Day


HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BOOKS WE LOVE READERS

ENTER TO WIN THESE FABULOUS PRIZES

Books We Love will be sending one lucky winner a gift certificate to a local Spa where they may choose a maniucre and pedicure or a 60 minute massage.

One lucky winner will win a print copy of Erin Quinn's new romantic suspense Web of Smoke.

One lucky winner will win a box of chocolates from Godiva's Valentine Assortment.

Two lucky winners will choose their choice of any Books We Love Spice  ebook.

Enter at: http://bookswelove.net/contest.php

What is your favorite Christmas gift?

This one is especially difficult for me.  I thought back  through my childhood and came  up with a tea set. I'm not sure what was so special about it. I believe I also got a doll, but something about that tea set stayed in my memory. I don't even remember how old I was, but I do remember it was white with pink flowers. Probably most of them were. Not only did it have a tea pot, cups & saucers, it came with spoons. I was pretty much a tomboy, so why I wanted a teaset I'm not sure. Okay, I played with dolls too, but I really loved climbing trees and playing ball with my brothers (when they let me). I can't say my older sister played with doll much either. I remember she got one also. Hers was taller than mine and walked. Mine didn't do much of anything but open and close her eyes, and it came with a baby bottle. That was okay, I didn't care that it couldn't walk. It was more fun pretending I was drinking tea - or more than likely coffee, since that's what my parents drank. Maybe it made me feel grownup.  I remember drinking hot chocolate in those cups a few times.

As years went on, I'm sure I received many gifts that I loved - Darned if I can remember any of them. Until that year 46 years ago today, when my second daughter was born.  I was getting pretty nervous with Christmas right around the corner. She was already ten days late. Back then doctors didn't think too much of it if you were late as long as everything looked okay. Obviously, it did.

I remember going to the doctor the day before and nothing indicated this baby was ready to be born. No pains, no dialation. Sure, she was down in the birth canal, but heck she'd been down there for a week.  My sister and husband figured they could make me go into labor. My sister actually made me do knee bends and made hubby drive over the railroad tracks real fast. What she thought that was going to do, other screw up my car, was beyond me.  Of course none of that worked. So she came up with this other brainsstorm.  I was to go to the hospital  and tell them I was in labor. Doh....did she think they were stupid and in about ten minutes would figure out I wasn't.  But, I figured, what the heck. The worse they would do was send me home, so off we went.

Well of course I wasn't having pains and when I got there, I had to pretend they stopped. But lo and behold, I was dialating, so they kept me overnight. The next day I wasn't progressing very much, but I was having pains, few and far between.  By 2:30 in the afternoon, the doctor decided to break my water. He said it would be a while yet and left the room. 

I looked at the nurse and said, "my baby's coming."
"No, honey," she said. "The doctor said it's going to be a while."
I shook my head. "No, the baby's coming now."
Maybe it was something in my voice, or maybe just to humor me, she checked me. "Stop the doctor," she yelled. "Her baby's coming."

I guess I just didn't want him to leave the hospital. Anyway, that Christmas we celebrated with two children. My oldest daughter, almost two, was so much fun to watch open her gifts and admire her baby sister. So, I guess, that was my favorite Christmas gift. To be blessed with two beautiful children. 
God was espeically good to us and blessed us with another daughter and three sons and they've blessed me with fourteen grandchildren and now one great grandchild. So what is my favorite Christmas gift? Every year when we get together to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior is my favorite gift.

Hello, Jenna Storm

Thank you so much for being here, Jenna Storm.

1: First up the obligatory question: What genre do you write?

I write paranormal romantic suspense.

2: Tell us, how long have you been writing?

I don’t remember the year I started but I know it’s been several and it took many rejections before I had my first story published. So, those who are unpublished don’t give up...keep plugging away. 

3: A question I'm often asked do you like the most and least about writing?

I love creating the plot and characters, the actual writing and even the editing. What I don’t enjoy, or rather what I don’t excel at is managing my time so I can get more done in a shorter amount of time. Can you say, disorganized? Also described as scatterbrained, or dreamy! I prefer dreamy.

4: What do you do for fun and relaxation when not writing?

I read, hang out with my two daughters (14 and 9)and when I’m not watching the Disney Channel which I usually am, I watch crime shows and movies...action, suspense and comedy. No tear jerkers for me. I like a happy ending in my books and movies.

5: A girl after my own heart. So which authors do you like to read?

I enjoy several authors from the paranormal and suspense genres. Just a few that come to mind are Lisa Gardner, Lisa Jackson, Gena Showalter and Nalini Singh.

6: What’s the one thing you’d most like people to know about you?

I’m grateful for my two girls who make me laugh and give me so many reasons to love my crazy, hectic life! I consider myself very lucky to have met so many wonderful people through my writing career especially my Muse It Up family.

7: I can relate to that. Muse is a great place and wonderful family. Tell me about your current novel, where I can find it?

The Burning Seal will be available from Muse It Up Publishing in March 2012. This is a paranormal romance with I’m hoping, plenty of suspense. There are several paranormal/supernatural elements...a demon, psychic and witch to name a few. I’ve included an excerpt after the interview if you’d like to read a little about it.

8: It sounds intriguing. I know you mentioned something earlier,  but do you have any tips for aspiring authors?

Don’t quit. Keep writing. Learn the craft but in the end follow your heart and your instincts. Love what you’re writing--the story and characters--and that depth of feeling will come through in your story.

9: Great advice. Another question I'm often asked, do you base your characters on real-life people?

Not really. In both the physical and the emotional creation of the character, I’m inspired by several sources, i.e. a movie, song, news story, people watching...whatever strikes me.

10: I know what you mean, I even find my characters in magazine ads. How did you come up with the idea for this book?

It started with a question...what would it be like if major events in our lives repeated and we were given a chance to correct a failure? The story blossomed from there. I added the Elements, Hierarchy demons, struggles for domination, magic, an ancient grimoire thought to be a myth and a character with psychic abilities.

11: It's amazing how we come up with ideas. So tell us, what are you currently working on?

Right now, I’m finishing the edits for this book and then I will get back to book two in the series.

12. Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?

Aside from writing and being a mom, I’m also going to school for Web and Graphic Design.

13. Wow, busy lady. Tell us where we can we find you? Website? Blog?

Her Last Kiss paranormal romance (novella), now available at http://www.wickedinkpress.com

The Burning Seal (March 2012) http://museituppublishing.com/musepub/

Website: http://www.jennastormauthor.com/

Blog: http://jennastorm.blogspot.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jenna-Storm/111299362263109

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/JennaStormWritz

The Burning Seal, the first book in the Element Series is due out March 2012.

Detective Danni Keegan is plunged into a dark, demonic world where survival depends on deciphering the connection between ritual killings, and a demon terrorizing her for a ‘gift’ she wasn’t even aware she possessed. She must unravel her dreams of another woman who lived during ancient times and battled a bloodthirsty demon. The same demon who now hunts Danni. The loss of her body and soul looms imminent as her only chance to destroy the demon depends on changing her new partner’s convictions. A sinfully sexy man, who exudes power and self-assurance with the ease of breathing and has an iron willed determination not to believe in the paranormal.

Unedited Excerpt:

New Orleans

Six weeks ago

          Danni Keegan pulled back the wispy curtain to peer through the thick rivulets of rain and search the swaying trees and bushes. She put her fingers to the glass and welcomed the chill as it traveled through her body. Maybe the cold would paralyze her tragic thoughts, end the dreaded feeling, the vengeful rising tide that sought to drown her.

          Her hand came off the glass and went back to the curtain. Her nimble fingers fidgeted with the lace. For weeks now, the doomed feeling had fed on her, no better than raging piranhas that hungered for fresh meat. She was the fresh meat. 

Every day the fear escalated, chewed off more of her flesh; exposed more of her vulnerability.

          Get control of yourself. You didn’t make it as a cop by fearing the dark, or letting a feeling rule your head. Yet, her uneasiness gnawed, the cause elusive, unsupported by any evidence. Were the unsolved homicides of Lucy Brighton and Chelsea Marlin warping her sanity?

          No matter how tough she acted, it was impossible to look at ravished remains and not mourn the loss of life. Question your own mortality and blame yourself for not stopping the killer. Was she confusing her edginess with guilt that the killer remained free to hunt new victims?

          Her fingers beat the glass in a staccato tempo which matched her heart’s unsettled rhythm. 

          No. This evil feeling, it’s blacker.

          More menacing. More...enduring.

          She cast a wishful glance at the wide-cushioned sofa, television, her bagel and cream cheese neglected on the coffee-table along with the horror novel she had been reading. She remained anchored to the window and scanned the looming trees and thick darkness for a shadow that didn’t fit. A forceful wind slammed the encroaching tree limbs against the condo's roof and the windows wept from the torrential downpour.

          She leaned forward and focused, as if she could frisk the shadow with her eyes. The bushes along the sidewalk shook in a way that was at odds with the direction of the wind. A clump of white bolted from the tangled branches and frost burned leaves. Realization dawned and the sight of the familiar lithe body made her smile. Partly from relief, mainly from her foolishness.

          The porch was clear except for her very drenched, very vexed cat. 

          Danni hurried to the door and twisted the bottom lock. But when it came to the deadbolt she wavered.

          Don’t. Open. The. Door.

          The warning slithered through her body, stroked her apprehension and added high-octane fuel to her fears. She stared at the top of her fluffy-socked feet and scrunched her toes against the hardwood floor.

           "This is stupid. Letting poor Independence drown in this storm because of a feeling."

          She flexed her hands, thought of her gun tucked in the nightstand drawer; thought about getting it. To what, shoot at trees and darkness? Since when do you let emotions rule your head?

          Danni twisted the lock and stepped out, playing hopscotch with the growing puddles on the small cement slab of her porch. She sucked in a breath, pulled her robe tighter. The sensation of standing on solid ice seeped through her socks. Before she could cajole Independence inside, the cat darted to the right, into the heart of the storm.

          “I’m not chasing you!” Danni called out, shoved her hands into her robe’s pockets, and shuffled side to side on cold, wet feet.

          Damn. Now she’d have to change her socks, throw her damp robe into the dryer--

          The wall of overgrown bushes at her left rustled. Branches snapped. The unexpected noise halted her breath, seized her thoughts. Everything froze. Except time.

          A masked figure vaulted through the deluge of rain, gloved hands outstretched. The intruder moved faster than the lightning streaking across the night sky.      

My six sentences are from Double the Trouble which will be released from MuseItUp Publishing in May. http://tinyurl.com/6kx5mzd

“I’m tired. Is there anything else?”

“Kate, I...”

Uncertainty showed on his face. Good, he should look uncertain. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

Six Sentence Sunday

From my recently released book, Stranger on the Shore available at MuseItUp Pulishing http://tinyurl.com/4zbzgtk

He stopped, pulled away, looked at her, his eyes questioning. “We have to talk, Jordan.” She turned away, ignoring him. He turned her to face him. “What’s there to say?” Candlelight flickered in his eyes.

Groundhog Day

When: February 2nd each year

Groundhog Day is celebrated in the U.S. each year on February 2nd. On this day in mid-winter, the groundhog awakens from a long winter's nap, and goes outside of his den to see if he sees his shadow. This tradition is big on an otherwise cold and dreary mid-winter's day. According to legend, if the groundhog sees his shadow (a sunny morning), there will be six more weeks of winter. He then returns to his den and goes back to sleep. If however, he does not see his shadow (cloudy days), he plays around outside of his hole for a while. If he does not see his shadow, spring is just around the corner. The Groundhog's Day tradition travelled long ways. It comes from German roots. German immigrants brought the tradition with them from Germany. As they settled in hills of Pennsylvania, they began the tradition of using the Groundhog to predict the the arrival of Spring. The tradition is based upon Candlemas, the day that is the midpoint between Winter and Spring. A famous Candlemas poems goes: If Candlemas be fair and bright, Winter has another flight. If Candlemas brings clouds and rain, Winter will not come again. Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania is the site of the annual Ground Hog event. Our little rodent friend (yes, Groundhogs are classified as rodents) is called Punxsutawney Phil. There are a few other "predictors" around the country, but they all pale in comparison to Phil's ability to predict the remainder of winter. For the Record Phil sees his shadow about 9 out of 10 times

National Kazoo Day

When: Always January 28th

People young and old love Kazoos. Kazoo Day celebrates the the joy of this musical instrument.

Alabama Vest of Macon Georgia made the first Kazoo in the 1840's. Actually, he conceived the Kazoo, and had Thaddeus Von Clegg, a German clockmaster make it to his specifications.
Commercial production of the Kazoo didn't occur until many years later in 1912. Manufacturing was first started by Emil Sorg in Western New York. Sorg joined up with Michael McIntyre, a Buffalo tool and die maker. Production moved to Eden, NY where the factory museum remains today.

Kazoos are easy to play. Simply hum a tune into the kazoo, and you're an expert. Kazoos can be played solo, or in groups. It plays a great tune both ways.
What do you do on National Kazoo day? Why, play the kazoo, of course.


Origin of National Kazoo Day:

We know when the Kazoo was invented, and by whom. We know a lot about the history of the Kazoo. But, we do not know who started National Kazoo Day.....
There is no evidence to suggest that this is truly a "National" day, which requires an act of congress.


I always loved the Kazoo. It was the only instrument I ever learned to play.  I bought my grandkids Kazoos for Christmas one year just for fun.

National Chocolate Cake Day

I've never heard of National Chocolate Cake Day, but hey, who am I to refuse anything chocolate? Chocolate cake and a tall glass of cold milk - it doesn't get any better than that.  So just exactly what is chocolate cake day? From my research, I discovered,

National Chocolate Cake Day is  always January 27th
Chocolate Cake Day is a a chocolate lovers delight, and a day to eat cake.   A day to "bake your chocolate cake....and eat it, too!"
On this day, a white or yellow cake will not do. Nor, will part chocolate, part white suffice. It must be chocolate, all chocolate. You can make milk chocolate, dark chocolate, fudge, or any other type of chocolate cake.
The only reference to Chocolate Day on the Internet is from Ecard and calendar websites. This might lead you to conclude that this as a day for(and by) the Ecard companies. But, we know better. This day is for you, and all chocolate lovers.
There are three objectives of Chocolate Cake Day: To bake a chocolate cake. To decorate a chocolate cake. And, to eat a chocolate cake. Of course, if you are to busy to bake or decorate a cake, then just eating a chocolate cake will certainly do!

Now this is a holiday worth celebrating. I love the idea. Of course I love chocolate, so maybe that's why. I don't know who instituted this day or why, but it sounds good to me. Happy Chocolate Cake Day

A friend gave me this recipe for Crazy Cake a long time ago.Her mother used to make it. It's an easy, quick cake and doesn't call for eggs.




Crazy Cake

"This cake was popular during the depression, and does not have eggs in it."

Ingredients:

3 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups white sugar
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
 3/4 cup vegetable oil
2 tablespoons distilled white vinegar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups cold water


Directions:

1. Sift flour, sugar, salt, soda, and cocoa together into a 9 x 13 inch ungreased cake pan. Make three wells. Pour oil into one well, vinegar into second, and vanilla into third well. Pour cold water over all, and stir well with fork.

2. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 30 to 40 minutes, or until tooth pick inserted comes out clean. Frost with your favorite icing or sprinkle with powder sugar.

Welcome, Rhobin L. Courtright

Muse author, Rhobin L. Courtright joins us today and talks about art museums.

I love art museums, perhaps because no matter how abstract an artist's work, a story is being told because most art has a strong, direct emotional appeal. This is no original revelation on my part. When reading was a skill few people knew, painting and sculpture told the story. Every sculpture in a medieval cathedral had a Biblical story tied to it so the non-readers (nearly everyone) could remember the Bible's passages. Though the reading Level among today's population is much higher, every museum offers the same experience. Visual images touch people's emotions quicker than anything else. Stirring those emotions ties the art to our personal experiences from which we imagine a story.


Writers and readers can discover every type of story in art. If science fiction stories draw you, look at Picasso's 'Three Dancers' or anything by Kandinsky. Want a horror story? How about Edvard Munch's 'The Scream.' Fantasy fan? Look at Henri Rousseau's 'The Dream.' Like Romance, look at Jan Vermeer van Delft's 'The Letter.'

Walking through a museum presents an opportunity to enjoy visual beauty while imagining the story that goes with the images displayed. Most often the story is told by emotional response. Not every work tells every viewer a story. If the message is not understood, the viewer tends to glance and walk away. When the piece speaks to a viewer, they stop and study it. In their mind they might be discerning how a line or shape interacts with another, or how the colors relate, but somewhere inside it touches an emotional chord.

The marvel is that despite guides' lectures or critics' comments telling what the artwork is about, each person takes away their own story even if it is only an impression, which might be completely different from the story the artist meant to tell. Luckily, there is no wrong interpretation.

Writing a story, as well as reading one, is similar. While the words enter the brain through the eyes, the words have to create the images internally to touch the emotions. The connection created between artist and viewer or author and reader draws everyone closer by shared emotions, shared dreams and realities. Such sharing, even in fictional stories, makes us more empathetic, more understanding of the human condition. If you'd like to check my stories out, go to my website http://rhobinlee.com/books.html or my blog http://rhobinsrambles.blogspot.com


Crewkin excerpt

"Thought you wouldn't show." The voice spoke behind her. A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the hatch. "I expected you sooner."

"You said six-hundred hours." Fighting revulsion at a strange touch, too startled at his grasp to writhe, Renna repressed her immediate response to defend her punctuality. Crew position demanded deference. His appearance remained unkempt. She stretched her stride to keep up with his pace. The grid on the retractable ramp bounced underfoot, impelling her forward. A direction she wasn't sure she wanted to go.

"And you couldn't arrive early?" He coded the hatch lock pulling her inside when it opened.

A gasp greeted her entry, half heard in the sound of hatch mechanism's operation. Four crewmembers stood beyond the hatch, arrested in their work. Small stowage boxes, equipment, and personal paraphernalia scattered the deck grid.

One look at their astonished, unhappy faces made Renna take a step backward, prepared to flee. The hatch rolled, slammed shut, and locked behind her. She looked over her shoulder in dismay. The captain didn't look at her or the crew as he made his way forward.

"Prepare the ship to disembark," he ordered as he ducked through a hatch.

No one moved. Her other shortrunner crews had looked different from crewkin. They had, however, claimed a vague, scruffy resemblance. This crew looked nothing like their disheveled captain, nothing like she envisioned. From their expressions, she judged them as appalled by her.

"Holy hell, a podder. Jake's done it this time," a tall blue-black person spoke. The deep voice held a feminine timbre.

Welcome, Kat Holmes

First off I’d like to thank Roseanne Dowell for having me. I am truly thrilled to be here. I want to talk about receiving that first contract. When I submitted The Lighthouse to Muse It Hot Publishing, I had already submitted it elsewhere  but never heard anything back. I assumed they weren’t interested so when I’d heard about a new house opening. I subbed to them.

I wasn’t rejected, but neither was I accepted. The head of the house, Lea Schizas, told me certain things needed to be fixed and once I fixed them she’d give me a contract. I was recovering from emergency surgery and couldn’t fix these items right away. Over the next month, I worked on it.

I resubmitted it on the 3rd of May. The very next day  a contract was waiting for me. I was over the moon. I got up and danced all over the place. The Lighthouse had been contracted and given a release date. This was made even more special because my mom had recently signed a contract with them as well. Actually, not with Muse It Hot but the mainstream line Muse It Up. But it’s still the same house.

The chance to share this experience with her has been amazing. She’s my best friend in the whole world. I read her stuff as she’s writing and she reads mine. She’s been my chief cheerleader. It’s awesome to be writing for the same house together.

And speaking of Muse, the people there are just wonderful. Everyone, from the publisher, Lea, all the way to all the authors, are the most supportive and encouraging people you’d ever want to know. Delilah K. Stephens does amazing covers. I’m in awe of the beauty of her work and how quickly she cranks them out. She’s done two for me so far. Yes I got a second book contracted by Muse. It’s the first in a new series and is called Frozen.

The Lighthouse releases from Muse It Hot Publishing January 01, 2011. It’s an erotic tale of romance, mystery and suspense with a bit of murder and ghostly happenings thrown in. I hope you enjoy The Lighthouse.



The Lighthouse blurb

When Rachel Westmont inherits a lighthouse from an aunt she didn’t even know she had, she’s overjoyed. The news couldn’t have come at a better time. Newly divorced from a self-serving doctor, the change of scenery is just what she needs. So she packs up and leaves California for a little island off the coast of Maine.

Rachel falls in love with both Star Island and the beautiful lighthouse and cottage she’s inherited. But, odd things begin to happen right from the first day. Cold chills permeate the cottage and books fly off the shelves. And someone seems to be playing pranks on her.

But when the ante gets upped and someone tries to kill her, Rachel must turn to hunky local sheriff Craig Lewis for protection. Now bodies are turning up, people are getting hurt, and Rachel is starting to suspect her aunt didn’t die a natural death. Can Craig stop a killer from claiming Rachel as their next victim? A little help from a ghost may be in order.

Frozen Blurb

Brent Larkin came to Antarctica to study penguins. He didn’t come looking for either adventure or romance. But when a freak storm blows in and he loses his way, that’s exactly what he gets. Attacked by some bobbing lights, he suddenly finds himself in a wintry forest surrounded by men with swords pointed at him. The next thing he knows he’s in a dungeon and chained to the wall.

Awni is the queen of Artica, a land of eternal winter. The daughter of a god, Awni’s cursed to never know the touch of another. Her icy skin is death for anyone who dares to touch her flesh. But, when a mysterious stranger shows up in her lands, she finds herself drawn to him. Eager to learn about his world, she invites him to spend time with her only to be shocked when he touches her and doesn’t freeze to death.

But Artica is a land ruled by tradition. Though she longs to keep Brent there with her, the laws of the land force her to send him home. But without him, both she and the land begin to suffer. Now, Awni is facing the same peril as one of her ancestors. And if she perishes like her ancestor did, all of Artica will pay the price. Can Brent, returned to his own world, somehow find his way back and save her before all is lost?

Welcome, Lindsay Below

I’m a little bit of what some people might call a nerd. I’ve been a bookworm ever since I could read, and unlike some, I actually liked school. In fact, I loved it. I love to learn, which is why, 9 times out of 10, I would rather be watching the Discovery Channel or the History Channel than the newest craze on TV.

That’s partly why my young adult novel , Lurkers, was such fun for me to write. I got to incorporate real science into the plot line. While I’m nowhere near as good with science as one of the main characters, Jackson, I still enjoy learning about it, and even extrapolating known scientific theorems to create the backbone of my plot.

While I loved science in high school, it was never my best subject (that would be English). Luckily, after leaving high school, I maintained a good friendship with my high school science teacher, Andy Rorabeck (find him online here: http://ajrorabeck.wordpress.com). In fact, we even formed a writer’s group which we called Exarare -- Latin, meaning: to till, cultivate, or plough; to write; or to flog severely. Although I’ve moved away from the quiet rural town where I grew up I still continue to contribute to the group through email instead of in person.

Now that I’ve set down my confession in writing, who else is a closet nerd?

You can learn more about Lindsay at her blog: http://lbelow.blogspot.com/
or her twitter: http://twitter.com/LBelowtheauthor


Excerpt from Lurkers (unedited), available July 2011 from MuseItUp Publishing:

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move, a shadow. She turned her head. More shadows loomed in the darkness. They were definitely people. “Shit!” she swore. “The gang!”

Jackson immediately stepped out of the way. “Inside!” he shouted. “Quickly!”

Kayla pushed Josh inside and stumbled in after him. Morris shoved his way in before Jackson could close the door. He pushed it closed behind him, and Jackson locked it. “There,” he sighed. “Better.” He inserted another key into the light switch beside the door, and flicked on the lights overhead.

“There’s not another door, is there?” Kayla asked, gnawing on her lip. The gang was huddled together, conspiring.

“Not one that’s open,” Jackson grinned. He clapped a hand to Josh’s shoulder and looked her in the eye. “Come on. We need to work quickly.” He scowled at his cousin. “You can stay here. Or better yet, go back outside.”

“Look, I’m--”

“Sorry?” Jackson sniped. “That’s all you seem to be saying lately. Too little, too late, Morris. And don’t bring up the insulin.”

Morris walked along side him as they crossed the entryway to one of the labs. She could still see the door from here. The gang wasn’t going away. If anything, they were coming closer. “Can’t I--”

“Shut up.”

“Jackson,” Kayla whispered. “They’re not going away. Are you sure they can’t get in?”

“Positive.”

She heard a smash in the other room, and looked through the doorway. One gang member pushed out the glass with the butt of his baseball bat. “They’re in!” she shrieked. Jackson flipped through the pages of the notebook he’d snagged off the shelf. Kayla backed up into the room and shut the door. She didn’t realize that Morris was on the other side of it until he started pounding on it. “Why do they have to make doors out of glass?” she lamented to the ceiling. “Honestly, why do they do that?”

“I found something!” Jackson exclaimed. He stood on the balls of his feet as he scanned the book so fast she could barely follow them. “Hold them off!” he called without looking up.

“Let me in!” Morris called from the other side of the door. He pushed on it, but she dug her feet into the ground, shoving with all her might. “Kayla, come on, please let me in! Don’t leave me out here with them!”

“It’s what you did to us!” she yelled back.

“I said I was sorry about that. Please!”

Kayla ignored him, and glanced at the window of the room. “This isn’t going to hold them for long!” she said to Jackson. “They’ll only break the window. What do we do?”

He glanced up from the book. His mouth was a grim line. “I know something that will hold them off, but you need to be careful with it.”

“Jackson! They’re inside the building, please!”

Jackson scowled. “And you might as well let him in, too. He won’t shut up.”

Kayla stepped aside from the door, and Morris burst in. Jackson glared at him. “Sit over there with Josh, and don’t say a word, or I swear to God--”

“You got it, cuz,” Morris said quickly.

Kayla peeked through the door herself. It was like Morris said; almost all of the gang members were inside. The leader was just stepping over the glass. They were stopping to regroup and wait for her orders. Kayla turned back to Jackson. She probably matched the walls for pallor. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Jackson nodded and dashed to the cabinet. He fumbled to get the lock open and threw it away. Finding five small flasks, he spilled some liquids in them. He stuffed wads of cloth into the tops, sealing them. Then he grabbed a Bunsen burner and fitted it to a nozzle, twisting the tap. He groped with the matchbook, trying to get one lit, until Morris called his name and tossed him a lighter. He touched the flame to the burner. Blue flames shot out the top. He looked Kayla in the eye.

“Light the Erlenmeyer--”

“Light the what?”

“The flask! Light the flask and throw it out, but don’t throw it too close to them. It shouldn’t make a big explosion, but it’ll be loud. Wait until they start forward again before you throw another one. These are all we have.”

Kayla grabbed the first one. She peeked out the door before she lit it, trying to gauge how close the gang was. They still hadn’t started past the mouth of the entry, but they stirred like they were planning to at any second. She lit the cloth on the fire, and tossed it gently out into the larger hall. From the arc, it would land about six feet or so from the gang. She shut the door.

The explosion blew out the glass in the window. She winced, her ears ringing, and looked around for Josh. He was behind Morris, on the other side of the room. He was safe. She sighed and rubbed her ears. Jackson unplugged his ears, scowling. “Well, don’t throw it too close to us, either!” he called. He thundered, “DON’T TOUCH THAT!” as Josh closed his hand around one of the flasks.

“Stay in the corner!” Kayla screamed at her brother. He glowered at her, and she looked at Morris. “Keep him there!” Morris snagged him and dragged him away from the ruckus.

She lit another flask and threw it out through the window. This time it landed three feet from the gang. She plugged her ears as she turned away, but not quite in time. Her vision swam, the blast was so loud. She was afraid it would blow out her eardrums. She crouched behind the lab counter for a minute, panting, before she stood and peeked through the window. The gang was milling away in confusion. Sighing in relief, she slumped against the counter.

Jackson’s eyes were glued to the page in front of him. With each line he read, he seemed to push himself higher on the balls of his feet. He jiggled his ear absently, trying to get his hearing back. Then, he stopped, dropped back down onto his feet, and pressed his nose close to the page. He straightened, pointing to it. “There it is! I’ve got it!” His lips moved as he memorized the wording.

Then the lights went out.

COMING SOON FROM RED ROSE PUBLISHING

Designed by Destiny is due to be released August 5th.

Fate – kismet – whatever it was, it turned Interior Designer, Wendy Seidel’s world upside down. From a chance meeting at the airport to Florida and back to Ohio, Wendy can’t believe the strange circumstances that put her and Bill Johnson together.

EXCERPT
“Ugh!” What the hell? Wendy’s feet slipped out from under her. Splat, she landed flat on her back. Her carry-on bag slid across the floor.

Suddenly, someone fell on top of her. Pinned to the floor, the breath knocked out of her, she lay still a moment.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She caught her breath and pushed him off. “Everyone’s always in such a big hurry.”

“Why’d you slow down? You darned near stopped in front of me.” He stood up, brushed himself off and held out his hand to help her up. “Sorry.”

Wendy pushed his hand away, got to her knees and stood. She didn’t need his help. Not his or anyone else’s for that matter. What she needed was to find her carry-on bag and get on to her gate.

“Look, I’m sorry. It was entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry.” He held his hand out to her again, but she ignored it.

“Here, let me get that for you.” He hurried to pick up her bag, only to have her grab it first.

“Look, Mister, I have a plane to catch, so excuse me if I don’t have time to chat.” Wendy straightened up her bag, grabbed the handle and started toward her gate. Good looking though, she thought, in a rustic sort of way. Probably worked outdoors or at least spent a lot of time outside. Not that it made any difference. She didn’t have time for him. Or any man for that matter. She had a career to build, and men didn’t figure into it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like men. She did. Even dated occasionally. Eventually she’d like to have a relationship, even get married. But relationships and marriage took time, not something she had right now. Her career came first. Something about him, though.

She couldn’t resist looking back. Great, he stood watching her with a silly grin on his face. Nice eyes, though, soft gray. She loved gray eyes. Maybe because her grandfather had gray eyes. He lifted his hand and waved at her. Heat burned her face.

Wendy turned and hurried off in the direction of the gate and looked at the signs above. Only at gate 2. Not even close. Of course her gate was at the farthest end of the airport. Thankfully, she had plenty of time to get there.

She avoided a heavyset man, hell bent on his mission. Crap, she hated this time of year. Everyone was in such a big hurry.

To make matters worse, her butt hurt but she resisted rubbing it. Didn’t need to look like any more of an idiot. Ah, gate 11, finally. May as well sit down and relax, she still had forty-five minutes before her flight. She took a book out of the side pocket of her carry-on and settled back to wait. Not that she could concentrate. She was still angry at her boss. Who in their right mind set up a meeting with a client right before New Years? And in Florida, no less. Besides, she had plans for New Year’s Eve.

So she was getting out of Ohio, big deal. So her friends thought she was lucky, especially with the predicted snowstorm. Didn’t make any difference to her. She liked snow.

She glanced out a window. Already it was coming down pretty heavy, and there was still a good half hour before her flight.

Damn it, she hated flying. She could have Fed-Ex’d the samples. What was so important that she had to personally bring them? Besides, she thought they’d settled everything before the client left. Why the sudden big change? Couldn’t they have at least waited until after the holidays?

Nick Donatello, her boss,  promised she’d be home by New Year’s Eve. Yeah right. She knew how these things went. First this problem, than that one. She’d be lucky to be home in time for her nephew’s birthday on the sixth. Nick better not have any funny ideas. This was strictly business. She’d heard about his reputation with women. So far he hadn’t shown her any interest, and that was fine with her. Good-looking though he was, nothing about him attracted her. Definitely not her type. Not that she had a type

“Looks like we’re on the same flight,” a masculine voice said.

Wendy looked up and almost groaned out loud. This couldn’t be happening. What were the chances they’d be on the same flight? She tried to ignore him, but something drew her gaze to his.

“Bill Johnson.” He extended his hand toward her. “I really am sorry about knocking you down.”

Wendy shrugged and took his hand. “No problem.” A quiver started deep in her stomach when he held her hand a bit longer than necessary. Rough, calloused hands. Does hard work. Maybe construction. Wendy pulled hers away and turned her attention back to her book. She hated talking to people at airports. Lord, tell me he doesn’t have the seat next to me. She couldn’t be that unlucky, could she? She peeked at the ticket sticking out of his coat pocket. Seat 16A. No way, what were the chances? She hoped he’d take the hint and leave her alone.

“Are you staying in Fort Myers?” He sat down next to her.

Figures, no such luck. She nodded. If she didn’t contribute to the conversation, maybe he’d be quiet. She kept her eyes on her book but couldn’t concentrate. She had the irresistible urge to look at him. What was it about him?

“Visiting or business?”

Wendy looked up from her book. He just wasn’t going to quit. “Business, no time for pleasure.” Maybe that would shut him up.

He smiled. “Everyone has time for pleasure. All work and no play...” He let the rest of the saying hang.

Wendy picked up her book. “I guess I’m a dull boy then.” Why didn’t he just leave her alone? Let her read in peace. She couldn’t be much ruder. Some people just couldn’t take a hint.

Bill laughed. A big hearty laugh that caused people to stare. Wendy wanted to crawl under her seat. “What’s so funny?”

“Honey, you look like anything but a boy.” His eyes took her in from top to bottom and came to rest on her breast.

Heat rushed to her face again. Crap, why did she blush so easily? Her face was probably as red as her hair. “Okay, so I don’t look like a boy. Just finishing the saying. And DON’T call me honey!” She put the book in front of her face and tried to read. Lord, spare me friendly people. Especially men.

The last thing she needed was a man trying to pick her up. She wished he’d just go away. She could call airport security, but she didn’t want to cause a scene. He’d done enough of that.

“Since you won’t tell me your name, I don’t know what else to call you.”

“Don’t call me anything.” Wendy slammed her book shut, stood up, and walked to the window. Some people just couldn’t take a hint. What more did she have to do to let him know she wasn’t interested? She stared out the window. Things didn’t look good outside.

“Full blown blizzard.” Bill’s deep voice came from behind.

Wendy shivered from the warmth of his breath on her neck . Or was it from his nearness? She looked at her watch. Still a half hour before take off. So far they hadn’t cancelled the flight. As if her thoughts magically conjured it up, a voice came over the PA system. “We regret to inform you that all flights to and from Cleveland Hopkins Airport have been cancelled until further notice. New flights can be rebooked as soon as we resume our schedule. Sorry for any inconvenience. Airport shuttles are standing by to take you to a hotel. If you can’t get a room, you’re welcome to stay at the airport. Concession stands and restaurants will remain open for your convenience.


Great, just great. What more could go wrong? At least she could go home. If she could get a cab that is. With the way it looked outside, she had a feeling most of the roads were closed too.

Welcome, Lynn Crain

1: Thank you so much for being here, Lynn. First up is the obligatory question. When did you first begin writing?

 I started writing when I was eleven.

2: What inspired you to write?

At eleven it was church and that poem eventually got sold. Then I was hook and saw inspiration in everything I read. I remember after reading Gone With The Wind and The Flame and the Flower, I wanted to write a great American novel.


3: What do you like the most and least about writing?

The freedom and the freedom. In this business you need to be very, very focus and just the least little thing can pull you off. You have to learn how to balance everything.



4: What do you for fun and relaxation when not writing?

I spend time with family and travel. My youngest is graduating this year and the plan is for me to start traveling more with my husband.




5: Which authors do you like to read?

I think the more appropriate question is who don’t I like to read...LOL! Right now I have Touched By An Alien by Gini Koch on my desk. I have a huge TBR pile and start a new one every couple of days. The pile includes both fiction and non-fiction alike.



6: What’s the one thing you’d most like people to know about you?

I love to write and really get into my characters and if no one bought another book, I’d still write.


7: Tell me about your current novel, where I can find it and your website/blog.

My next novel to release should be Captive Illusions 2: Merrick and Jenna. It got nailed by a virus and Trojan infestation so it was put off from April and should be ready in June. I had to recreate a lot of sections of it. Go to www.extasybooks.com and it should be right there on the front page. You can always find me at www.lynncrain.com as well as my yahoogroup and blogs. Here’s the complete list:

www.myspace.com/lynncrain
http://www.lynncrain.blogspot.com/
http://www.themanyshades.blogspot.com/ ( I blog here on Wednesdays.)
http://lynncrain.livejournal.com/
www.myspace.com/lynncrain
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/XtraOrdinaryRomance/
www.twitter.com/oddlynn3www.facebook.com/oddlynn3
http://www.youtube.com/lynncrain


8: Do you have any tips for aspiring authors?

Never give up. While there is no magic formula for any published writer, one of the keys is to always learn, always right and always submit. Hone your skill, become the best writer you can be and believe in yourself.



9: Do you base your characters on real-life people?

I have traits of real people in my characters but I rarely use someone I know in my books. I would say that my characters have more of me in them than anyone else.




10: Where do you get your ideas and what inspired you to write this book?

I get my ideas from everywhere and everything. That is one of my gifts. I can look at a situation or a scenario and come up with one to ten different ideas.


11: What are you currently working on?

I’m working on a couple of things. I have a NYC submission that I’m editing called Where’s My Underwear. It’s about old lovers reuniting and the man is Scottish. It’s been great fun to write. I’m also working on another non-erotic for Devine Destinies about alien abduction and I’m working on a new erotic romance which is under wraps until its contracted.

12. Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?

I haven’t been around recently because I became a grandmother to twin boys in March. They were born prematurely and spent an additional three weeks in the hospital. I help out when they needed me and just recently told them I had to get back to my own life...LOL! Readers can ask me a question at lynncrain@cox.net and I love hearing from you all!

Unedited Excerpt


Captive Illusions Book 2: Merrick and Jenna

By Lynn Crain

“Crying now?”
Her head snapped up. When had he come into the room? “Not really,” she stated quietly, turning her head in the direction of his voice. “Just thinking about things that can never be.”
“What things?” The whisper came from next to her ear.
“Things you wouldn’t understand,” she stated more firmly, convinced that she couldn’t let him know just how he affected her or her body.
“I can understand a lot of things,” Merrick replied.
The touch of his warm tongue on her neck made her jump and her heart race. “What – what are you doing?” she questioned.
“Come now. A hunter like you should know these things.”
She snorted. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”
“What an unladylike noise coming from you. Tsk – tsk. We’ll have to train you better.”
“Train me? You think you can train me?” Jenna shook her head in amused disgust. “And I supposed you’re already trained?” She was amazed at the sound of her voice. It was firm, strong and confident which was so unlike how she really felt.
Merrick’s rich laughter filled the room. “How can anything wild be tamed?” he questioned from somewhere in front of her.
“How indeed,” she answered with more confidence than she felt.
“Maybe you need a lesson about training.”
The touch on her inner thigh was warm and brief. Although, she couldn’t see him she could feel him and he was very close.
“There’s no reason to keep my blindfold on now, is there?”

Wecome Rebecca Ryals Russell

1: Thank you so much for being here, Rebecca. First up is the obligatory question. When did you first begin writing?


I wrote a lot as a preteen until I began teaching as a young adult. Then it was sporadic. But once I retired a few years ago and the kids were teens I began writing again in earnest and finished the first book of the series I’m working on.

2: What inspired you to write?

My father wrote poetry for special occasions and after he died I discovered an unfinished manuscript. I’ve always had the desire to write, so I guess it’s in my blood. My son, age 16, aims to be a journalist. See what I mean?

3: What do you like the most and least about writing?

I love writing because it stretches my mind. Since I write Fantasy I create new worlds and creatures and such. The thing I like least about it is the marketing. I’d much rather just write, write, write.

4: What do you for fun and relaxation when not writing?

That almost never happens. Writing IS relaxing for me. I carry my laptop or a pad everywhere I go. BUT, I have been known to go to a movie with my daughter or sit on the front porch and have a beer with my husband. Then it’s back to writing until 3am.

5: Which authors do you like to read?

My favorite is Ray Bradbury. I also enjoy Stephen King, Terry Brooks, Anne McCaffrey (dragons of course), Susan Cooper, Lloyd Alexander, JRR Tolkien, JK Rowling. There are so many more! I love YA lit. I just bought Skin Hunger by Kathleen Duey because I attended an SCBWI conference and she was a speaker. Can’t wait to start it.

6: What’s the one thing you’d most like people to know about you?

I guess that would be that I’m genuine. Sometimes I come off as conceited or uncaring and tactless, but it’s usually because I’m a one-track person and not because I meant any slight. I usually say what’s on my mind, I hate playing mind-games and despise politics. I’ve tried to change, and hopefully I’ve gotten better, but I’m passionate about things and that sometimes is read wrong.

7: Tell me about your current novel, where I can find it and your website/blog.

My website/blog is Plotting Worlds. I also have a book website called Seraphym Wars, which is also the title of my series. I’ll be posting current book info at that site, while Plotting Worlds is all about helpful links and tips for writers as well as info about me and the series. Readers can also go to the Dragon’s Lair page for links to all of the sites I’m on (like Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, etc.)

18-year-old Myrna is drawn into the middle of an epic battle between Seraphym and Demons. An average High School student from Florida, she wakes one morning on the Steampunk planet of Dracwald, home of the demon-dragons responsible for her brother’s death and many other atrocities in the news. She meets Michael (19), who becomes her guide and explains that according to prophecy, Myrna must gather the remaining six Vigorios (teen warriors with special talents) then train with the Majikals on an enchanted island.

Reluctantly, and knowing it is her only way to get back home, she agrees to lead, battling dragons and monsters while crossing swamps and mountains, forests and seas. She discovers love when three very different men join her quest—a seasoned demon/dragon-slayer who irritates but beguiles her, a tender and sweet mentor in whom she trusts completely and a roguishly handsome Scientist who sets her senses aflame. How is she expected to lead the others and keep everyone safe with so much inner turmoil?

Will love and lust, jealousy, greed, deceit and distrust break the delicate tie that binds these teen warriors called The Vigorios? Can a troupe of teens help the Seraphym finally defeat the massive empire of evil dominated for eons by the demon-dragons of Dracwald?

8: Do you have any tips for aspiring authors?

Don’t wait to start your marketing. Blog, create a website, join ALL of the author-related websites, read editor/agent blogs WHILE you are writing the book of the century. If you wait until you are finished writing, it will take a few years of platform-building before anyone will look at your book.

On the writing side--write, write, write. It takes practice to get it right. (lol) And read other author’s book in your genre, underline and circle good passages, take notes on description, characters, etc.

Then spend months editing. Put it away for a month then edit again and don’t be afraid to revise, even to the point of completely changing the story, if it’s for the better.

9: Do you base your characters on real-life people?

I did. Early on they were closely based on my own children, but through the evolutions of editing and rewrites they have meshed and become amalgamations. I like them much better than the original characters. Anyone who knows my kids and reads the books will be able to tell who is based on whom.

10: Where do you get your ideas and what inspired you to write this book?

My ideas come from news articles, mostly. This particular series is based on atrocities reported in the news over the past few years that is worse than I could EVER imagine. I’ve been writing a version of this series for the past 30 years, off and on. It wasn’t until I retired three years ago that the final version came pouring out onto the page.

11: What are you currently working on?

I’ve been thinking about a MG series involving a dragon (of course) and a little boy. I want it to be Historically and or Science-based so it can be used in classrooms. When I was teaching I used a lot of novels to help teach subjects. It would be cool to be on the other side of that coin. I’d be curious to know if readers would prefer a boy or a girl character. Maybe readers could leave a comment on this blog or mine and let me know.

12. Is there anything else you’d like us to know about you?

I want readers to know that I am passionate about books. I love to read and instilled that passion in my students and my own children. I’m not in this business to make a ton of money (remember, I was a teacher lol). I want to get my story read because I think it’s a good one and Myrna is dying to tell it. Literally.

An Excerpt From Chapter 16:

Traveling alongside the dark and foreboding Humac Forest in a car had been a piece of cake compared to the scoots. We stayed on the far left margin of the road, careful not to fall into any of the millions of potholes lining its edge. The sky was as light and bright as it got here on Dracwald. Although I glanced at the edge of the forest often, I had yet to see evidence of the monstrous zombies said to live inside its borders. I tried to put them out of my mind by thinking about our next phase on this quest and just how far we had come in only two days.

We had been grinding the road for a few hours when the sky began to darken. Glancing up I feared the dragons had returned, but was even more chagrined to realize we were losing daylight. Michael glanced back quickly. I nodded fiercely, acknowledging that I had noticed. Moments later he swerved to the right nearly into the forest itself. I panicked and swerved as well, following his lead. Sure enough there had been a pile of fallen branches in our path. Had they been put there deliberately?

As I swerved back onto the left edge of the road I felt Tien yanked away from me. I screamed and Michael turned his head to look. Tien screamed insults and curses into the darkness. Michael swung his scoot around and roared back toward me. I stopped, unsure what was happening. I could still hear Tien swearing and screaming, but she was becoming fainter. Once he was past, I swung around in time to see Tien, kicking and screaming as a Phosboor dragged her by the ponytail into the forest. I screamed again and sped forward. Michael had already disappeared into the forest. Unsure what I should do I waited. I walked the scoot to the edge of the forest so I could see in a little better, although with darkness falling the forest was nearly pitch black. Fear clattered my teeth together and whooshed the blood in my ears.

Once my eyes adjusted I could just make out Michael roaring across the pine needle and leaf strewn, slippery forest floor after the Phosboor who had Tien. Her arms flailed trying to grasp trees as the Phosboor galloped away hauling her by the hair. She dug her feet into the soft forest floor but the needles just bunched up giving her no hold. Michael swerved around the Phosboor, grasping Tien around the middle and sped back toward the road. She continued screaming and cussing every foul word I had ever heard and then some. The Phosboor, refusing to release his grasp on her hair, dragged behind the scoot, causing an imbalance which nearly threw the scoot sideways.

A blur out of the dark landed on the Phosboor, growling and snapping until sections of the poor rotten zombie lay scattered across a ten foot stretch of forest floor. The blur continued following Michael as he now sped through the forest avoiding trees, his rear tire slipping on the forest litter. Tien clung tightly to his back, head lowered.

Suddenly I was assaulted by a huge furry creature that leapt from the dark forest landing on the rear of my scoot with his paws on my shoulders. I screamed and gunned the scoot forward when I heard a soft purring voice in my head, “Calm yourself, human. I’ll not hurt you. I’m here to help. Be ready to ride momentarily.” While ordinarily I wouldn’t have been calmed by such a statement, there was a wash of peace throughout my being that quelled fear. At that moment Michael jumped the edge of the road onto its surface where his tires found purchase and he sped away toward the distant lights of Hallsea Village, leaving a long scratch of burned tire on the asphalt. The smell of burning rubber reminded me of our night in the repair station avoiding the Shubons. A tan blur ran behind him before I could gun my own scoot into action.