Where It Begins: Writing a Prequel

At first glance it would seem that writing a prequel would be easy. After all, the outcome is known. The problem is how much and what needs to be included to tell the story. After Midnight, prequel to House of the Rising Son, had a particular problem. Cheyenne is introduced in HOTRS as a single father of two children. You, the reader, asked who and where were their mothers.

Of course I know. I have the backstory. I know why the children are with him. But I presenting their mothers, Ria and Jewel, as women/vampires who love their children AND care for Cheyenne was tricky. They didn't easily give up the kids. They made the tough decision to part with their children as a matter of safety. The children's safety.

Obviously After Midnight was not a book that would have a Happily Ever After ending. But a Happy For Now between Ria and Jewell was necessary. So the story ended at a moment of joy for them.

It was an interesting novella to write. I hope it supplies some answers to readers and perhaps raises questions about when and where the moms reappear. As for the actual transfer of the children to Cheyenne, that story will come. When they make their next appearance Ria and Jewell will tell us.

After Midnight is available on Amazon. 

Dress Up, Dress Down with Marie Dry

Happy Friday! Let's welcome Marie Dry to the LAM Blog today, talking about her book, ALIEN BETRAYED. ********************************

NAKED ALIENS AND CLOTHES DOING DOUBLE DUTY

I thought it was really amusing, doing a blog about my characters clothes. Why? Because mostly I forget to put clothes on them. I literally have to go in afterwards and make sure they’re not running around naked. In the process I learned a lot about the function clothes serves in a story.

The first editor at Black Opal Books who worked on Alien Mine thought the Aliens in the Zyrgin Warriors series walked around naked. I was shocked that she could miss the wonderful description of their uniforms, loaded with weapons that became the size of pennies when placed in their pockets. Then I went searching for the specific paragraph where I described it. It wasn’t there! I had to go in and put clothes on them. I was mortified, this was my first book to be published and I did something so careless. The worst part was that I could see their clothes so clearly and knew the function they served and it only happened in my mind. And I managed to forget to put it down on the manuscript.  I knew from the beginning that their clothes were made of some really strong material with some amazing properties, allowing them to simply step out of their shoes without using laces and their uniforms were developed to withstand most weapons. I wanted their clothes to juxtapose their primitive joy in battling with swords. To illustrate that this was a culture with advanced technology even though they come across as rather primitive in their ideas.

After that I went and checked a contemporary I’ve been fiddling with and yip, no clothes. Once again the heroine’s clothes were clear in my mind, but not on the page. She’s a rather frumpy dresser and much more interested in developing her mind than her fashion sense. To make matters worse, her way of looking at herself and what she wear through the book, illustrate her acceptance of herself as a beautiful woman by the end of the book. Or it would have if I’d just taken the time to really describe her clothes. Since I made the changes and ensured that the clothes mirrored her development the story has improved.

What I learned from this was that clothes can illustrate aspects of the character, they can show the technological stage of development of a civilization or poverty or riches, it can illustrate the characters jobs or lack of jobs. In other words, clothes has their own job to do in a story. They can also do absolutely nothing if the author, namely me, don’t use it as a tool.

Mary Buckham wrote an excellent craft book. Active Settings by Mary Buckham. I cannot recommend this enough. She has examples that illustrate what I tried to say above. Here is a link to amazon to her book. A Writer's Guide to Active Setting

Thank you for inviting me to write for your blog. I’m off to make sure my Gargoyle is wearing clothes and not running around Cape Town naked.

More about Marie

All her life Marie Dry has read romances and was fairly young when she decided she would travel the world and write the perfect story that had all the elements she looked for in a romance. In 2007 after living in Morocco for four years and back in South Africa, she shared a pizza with a friend and promised to go all out with her writing and to work at getting published. In 2014 her first book was published by Black Opal Books. Two more books has since been published and a fourth contracted.

There are several wonderful moments in her life that she would never trade for anything. One of them is meeting President Nelson Mandela and the second being published.

www.mariedry.com

Marie's Amazon Page

Find Marie on Goodreads

BOOK BLURB

ALIEN BETRAYED

In a bleak and apocalyptic future, where the Zyrgin Warriors are getting ready to conquer Earth, Marcie is sent to infiltrate the alien stronghold in the Rocky Mountains, only to be betrayed by her own people. Instead of stealing the alien’s technology and accomplishing her mission of causing mayhem and destruction among them, she is captured by Larz, an arrogant alien, who wreaks havoc with her heart when he insists that she will be his woman. Still, he may no longer want her when he discovers her secrets…ones she doesn’t even know she has.

EXCEPT: CHAPTER 1

Larz clasped the training sword with both hands and swung it in a wide arc around his head, conquering his favourite patch of the Rocky Mountains.This was the closest a Zyrgin warrior came to the human emotion of joy. The sword fit his hand like an extra limb. His body moving with strength and fluidity gifted to him by generations of the strongest blood on Zyrgin. Still swinging, he moved the sword to his left and then his right hand, increasing his speed until his movements became a blur.

Every day after his warrior duties, he came to this rocky patch on the mountain.Practiced to ensure he was worthy and ready for the day the leader of all Zyrgin territories would give him his sword of honor. That was the moment all warriors lived for. When their leader, who they called The Zyrgin, gifted them with a sword that would respond to the touch of a certain warrior only. Warriors from a strong bloodline, and some warriors born stronger,received swords that, with the aid of technology, could be made to shrink to nearly invisible size. To the enemy, it looked as if they disappeared and appeared as if by magic.

Many warriors used their cloaking technology to make it seem as if they had received such a sword from The Zyrgin. Larz knew he’d never have to resort to such measures. He was from The Zyrgin’s bloodline, descended from the strongest Zyrgin that ever ruled.

Larz lunged sideways then stepped back, performing the sequence of the warrior conquering with his sword with ease. Instinctively compensating for the uneven boulder strewn patch he stood on. Though his movements were swift and smooth, as a warrior’s should be, today he performed without his usual fierce concentration.

Worry for his human occupied his mind. Months ago, shortly before his second change, he claimed Marcie as his breeder after they rescued her from a raider camp. Everyone else called her a loud, mean woman with ugly red hair. Not a day went by without one of the warriors offering to kill her or bring him a better human. When he looked at her, he saw his breeder. A woman he’d never give up.

If he claimed her after he went through his third change, it might mean he had to give up his need to do battle in their wars, to serve on the Zyrgin homeland. The friend of Natalie and Julia, Sarah had disappeared more than a year ago and it had taken many months to find her in a raider camp. She had been starved and bruised and told them Marcie was responsible for many of the things that happened to her in that camp. They may have rescued Marcie from a raider camp, but they were certain she was sent to infiltrate them. Her attitude made her very unpopular. Shortly after they brought her to their guesthouse, she’d tried to hurt Sarah and Sarah had been moved to live with Natalie. Larz had to go through his third change soon, or he might not be able to claim her.

From the time the first Zyrgin ruled, millions of centuries ago, Zyrgin warriors were not allowed to claim a breeder before their third change. It was a strange knowing each warrior carried within. Larz turned and decapitated an imaginary enemy behind him. His third change was months away, and he needed to claim Marcie before she got herself killed.

He stumbled and compensated for the uneven rock beneath his boots. Adding challenge to his workout, he closed his eyes. A warrior who owned a foul-mouthed human had to be prepared for anything.

This barren patch of the alien planet he was born on, this little piece of earth, always drew him. On the hard rock, where no trees grew and no reintroduced wildlife ventured, he was reminded of his home planet. Out here, with the exotic earth sun shining down on him, he could think about claiming a strangely compelling woman with a mean mouth and ugly red hair. Make plans for keeping her safe from the consequences of her actions.

Zorlof, his brother, ran up to him, his pre-second change body small, but stronger than that of a human male. Their doctor couldn’t explain why he took so much longer than Larz to go through his second change, but all indications were that he would be very strong once it did happen. Zyrgin warriors were born with the knowledge of battle, with strength in their small bodies. With each change their knowledge and strength grew. In Zorlof’s case, he suspected that strength and knowledge might be much stronger in him than the average warrior. Even taking into account their strong bloodline, Zorlof was taller and stronger than any pre-second change warrior born for centuries.

Zorlof easily leaped over a few boulders and increased his speed until he skidded to a halt in front of Larz.

“Marcie tried to kill Zanr to get to Sarah. She screamed she’d kill Sarah the whole time,” Zorlof said.

The mountain blurred around Larz and noise rang in his ears. Like their ship’s klaxon, instead of danger to the ship, it heralded danger to his human. Larz sank down on his knees and leaned his head on his sword. “That human will drive me to Solarian drink.”

If she had simply gone after Zanr, they would’ve laughed at the idea of a human woman trying to overcome a Zyrgin warrior. No warrior would give an attack from a human woman any serious attention, beyond ensuring she didn’t hurt herself. Threatening the Zyrgin’s breeder? Larz might not be able to save her.

His time was up. He had to choose between Marcie and being a warrior and probably his life. Give up everything that defined him to save that female who had no concept of honor. He didn’t understand her mean nature and why she hated Sarah this much? If she was sent to infiltrate them, wouldn’t it make more sense to befriend them?

Larz closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Would the woman never stop putting herself in danger? When he claimed her, he’d make sure she understood that such behavior would have severe consequences for her. Ever since they rescued Marcie from the raider camps six months ago, she’d angered every human and Zyrgin who came into contact with her.

Dress Up Dress Down with Abbey MacMunn

Today we're joined by Abbey MacMunn, who is here to talk about characters from her debut release. Welcome to LAM, Abbey! ***************

Hello, my name is Abbey MacMunn and I write paranormal/fantasy romance. Today I’d like to talk about my debut paranormal romance, TOUCHED.

My main character, Cami Wilson, hates being cold, so naturally the story takes place during a winter month in England – sub-zero temperatures, biting winds, and a magical blizzard thrown in for good measure. When Joseph Carlisle first meets her, she’s wearing a thick winter coat and fur-lined boots – “all padded coat, messy hair and innocence” is how he describes her.

Cami prefers to wear casual clothes: jeans or leggings, topped with a baggy jumper two sizes too big to hide her bum, which she thinks is too big—Joseph thinks it’s the peachiest arse he’s ever seen.

Joseph is an immortal guardian – he doesn’t feel the cold. His attire is casual too: faded black T-shirt and worn jeans.

Here’s a scene from Touched, written from Joseph’s point of view. 

A few minutes later Cami returned, dressed as though embarking on an Arctic expedition instead of a stroll around the Manor. The black leggings were gone, replaced with dark blue jeans—a bit of a shame since he kind of liked those skin-tight leggings. But he had to smile at the enormous padded coat and fur-lined boots, complete with gloves, a woolly hat and a ridiculously long scarf wrapped three times around her neck. The whole ensemble made her look twice the size, and three times as charming.

She frowned. ‘What?’

‘You warm enough?’

Frown turned to grin as she glanced down at her clothes. ‘I don’t like being cold.’ She untangled her long hair from under her scarf before going over to Nana to kiss her cheek. ‘Won’t be long, Nana. Love you.’

‘Love you too, darling, and don’t hurry on my account.’ Nana lowered her voice but Joseph still heard her whisper, ‘He likes you just the way you are, Bridget.’

Cami laughed, clearly sharing a private joke they thought he wouldn’t understand.

‘You ready?’ He didn’t let on he knew what movie she’d quoted. ‘We should get an hour or so before the sun goes down.’

‘Great, let’s go,’

Joseph held the door open to the corridor.

Nana flapped her arms. ‘Hurry up you two, you’re letting in the draft. I swear penguins would be at home out there.’

‘Bye, Nana,’ he said, chuckling. Once they were alone he couldn’t help making a comment. ‘You and Nana have a thing for rom-coms do you, like Bridget Jones’s Diary?’

She looked surprised. ‘You heard that?’

‘Yeah, Nana’s whisper was kind of loud, even without the immortal hearing,’

‘Sorry, subtlety is not one of Nana’s strong points,’

‘So you’re a bit of a romantic at heart?’

‘I don’t know. I could be…’ She blushed and headed down the stairs. ‘With the right kind of guy.’

‘And what kind is that?’

Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. ‘I think you know what kind,’

His pulse rate quickened, and so did his footsteps as he followed behind her.

TOUCHED is available now.

Amazon.com

Amazon UK

Smashwords

Apple

Kobo

Nook

Blurb:

When inquisitive antique dealer Cami Wilson learns she’s the revered offspring of an immortal mother and a mortal father, it’s not just her hybrid status that has her all flustered. The title comes with her very own super-sexy guardian.

Jaded immortal Joseph Carlisle has only one thing on his mind; his sworn duty to protect the hybrid from those who wish her harm. Anything else would be complicated. That is until they meet.

Chemistry sizzles between them but there’s a problem—the hybrid’s curse. Cami’s touch, skin to skin, proves near fatal to her and all immortals, Joseph included.

But the fated lovers discover her curse is the least of their concerns when a friend’s deadly betrayal threatens to tear them apart forever.

Binge Watching #Stranger Things: A #Review

I never seem to have time to watch a show while it's playing in real time. Consequently, I occasionally fall victim to binge watching. My latest is the Netflix series, Stranger Things. I saw the trailers and meant to watch but—no surprise here—I forgot. That is, until my nephew connected with me to tell me his opinion. He said the acting is good, the cinematography and music are “leaps and bounds ahead of other shows”, and the story is so good each episode feels like a movie. Since we tend to like similar things, I knew I had to try it. I watched the first episode and was hooked. I didn’t stop until I’d devoured the entire season.

My nephew was right. It was a beautiful show with gorgeous camera work and music that set a mood so well it was as if I was in the scene with the characters. But reflecting on the experience, I think if I’d I watched one episode each week I may have gotten bored and wandered off like I have with so many other shows—Beauty and the Beast, Legends of Tomorrow, Haven, to name a few.

On the surface, Stranger Things seemed to have huge flaws. Too many one dimensional adult characters—the doctor, the government agents, the police, the ex-husband. Most of the acting was so over the top it verged on parody—including Winona Ryder, who I’ve respected for years.The teenage drama storyline would have been hard to watch if it had dominated any episode. And at various places I thought, “Oh they're redoing Species, or ET,” or now that I think about it, any number of sci-fi tropes we’ve seen hundreds of times.

Worse, some of the twists and turns were illogical. For instance, the main character, Mike Wheeler (played by Finn Wolfhard) turns on the young girl (the one he’s risking a lot to help) for protecting him. Who does that? Or poor Lucas (Caleb McLaughlin) a character so gratingly negative I kept wishing the monster would get him. Thankfully we had Dustin (Gaten Matarazzo) who was completely adorable and softened my reaction to the others.

Another clear bright spot in the show was young Eleven, played by Millie Bobbie Brown. Her expressive face (and acting chops that belie her age) made me care about her despite the plodding backstory that was explicitly designed to make her sympathetic. I also connected to Jonathan (Ryder’s oldest on, played perfectly by Charlie Heaton). These two, along with Gaten, are the reasons I watched episode after episode. I plan to watch the show again to figure out how they brought these young protagonists to life and what hooks kept me glued to my seat for eight hours.

Eight hours? Remind me to never admit that again.

The Setting Thesaurus Books Are Here!

As a reader I’m one of those people who skip ahead when I see long sections of description of anything—setting, sex, fights---because I find most to be boring and/or repetitive. As a writer sitting down to pen my first novel, HOUSE OF THE RISING SON, I struggled with description because I didn’t want MY scenes to be boring and/or repetitive. I found myself falling back on my favorite words and style. I also tried to find just the right nuances for the feelings that my characters experienced. I was thrilled to discover the first editions of the thesaurus series by Angela Ackerman, and Becca Puglisi. I found myself referring to these books over and over to help add variety to my work. I credited The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer's Guide to Character Expression with helping me to bring my characters to life. I'd hope there would be more from these amazing writers.

Well, there's some good news on this front. Two new books have released this week that may change the description game for writers. The Urban Setting Thesaurus: A Writer's Guide to City Spaces and The Rural Setting Thesaurus: A Writer's Guide to Personal and Natural Spaces look at the sights, smells, tastes, textures, and sounds that a character might experience within 225 different contemporary settings. And this is only the start of what these books offer writers.

In fact, swing by and check out this hidden entry from the Urban Setting Thesaurus: Antiques Shop.

And there's one more thing you might want to know more about....

Becca and Angela, authors of The Emotion Thesaurus, are celebrating their double release with a fun event going on from June 13-20th called ROCK THE VAULT. At the heart of Writers Helping Writers is a tremendous vault, and these two ladies have been hoarding prizes of epic writerly proportions.

A safe full of prizes, ripe for the taking...if the writing community can work together to unlock it, of course.

Ready to do your part? Stop by Writers Helping Writers to find out more!

Grumpy is an Understatement

My day jobs are often stressful. Periodically, they can become exceptionally stressful and if it happens in both jobs at once I'm on the edge. This has been one of those months. However bad I think I have it, it's nothing compared to what my partner experiences having to deal with me on a daily basis. Besides all of the above, I'm moody and emotional. Dancing with the Stars makes me cry. Commercials bring tears to my eyes. I've been known to completely break down over an episode of Supernatural. There are days I crawl into my head, contemplating the fate of the universe--or of our mudroom. Add the sudden, unexpected death of Prince and the GrumpymoodOmeter ratchets up to 12 on a 10 point scale.

Last night I apologized for a dozen ways I've been a grump, and told her I'm grateful for the sun she shines into my life. She smiled and said that all of the things I apologized for are the reasons she cherishes me. She reminded me I've said the same to her from time to time, and, in truth, what we both are is human and loved.

Maybe grumpy is an overstatement after all.

It Was Always Love

A wall in my bedroom

I'm a writer. There has always been something cathartic in telling a story. So in the midst of incredible sadness I am sharing my story with you.

My partner says that she went to the movies with a friend one day to see whatever show happened to be playing and ended up seeing Purple Rain, a movie that changed her forever. From that moment on she was obsessed--still is--and thanks Prince for much of the joy she's had in her life.

My path was not as direct. He had to touch my life three times before I listened.

1979

Thank you for a funky time, call me  up...

On my way to high school driving the first of two cars given to me by my father, the song I Wanna Be Your Lover came on. The music was okay, but the lyrics made my head spin. Chock full of double entendres (I wanna be the only one to make you come...running), I couldn't get it out of my head for days. But trying to balance my perfectionist compulsion with wanting to fit in with my peers had turned high school into a three year long hurricane for me. I had a hard enough time holding on to my shit--I couldn't add one more thing to my burden.

1984

Somebody please tell me what the hell is wrong

The second time I became aware of Prince was when Purple Rain came out. I was newly married and in an unfamiliar place with no friends. I don't have memory of going to or being in the theater (my memory often fails me when it comes to very emotional moments), but I remember  buying a beta max copy of the movie as soon as it came out. I coveted that fat short rectangular box (I still have it), but for reasons I can't explain, I never watched it.

The third time, as they say, was the charm.

1987

In my darkest hour, you can be my bliss

I took a job two hours away from my home and my husband and lived with my mother. I had a great time. I loved my job, had some adventures with my mom (like driving 45 minutes to buy a pizza that boasted cheese UNDER the sauce, not over it), and spent time with my sister and brother and their families. Moreover, every other weekend I honeymooned with my husband. Life moved along pretty smoothly.

Except at night. I started having nightmares. At first they came infrequently, and I barely remembered them. As time went on they grew more frequent and more horrifying. Eventually I had bad dreams every night. There seemed to be two themes--black roses and elevators. Black rose dreams woke me up crying.  Elevator dreams were worse.

I know now that I was reliving sexual abuse I'd experienced as a child. I was in the same room, largely unchanged--the purple walls I'd begged for, music and academic awards (evidence of my hyper-vigilent perfection), and the bed. The bed.

Any time I was alone with my thoughts I thought about dying. What death would feel like. All the years of my nephews and nieces lives that I'd miss. Pieces of my nightmares started to come to me during the day. I searched continually for distractions, trying to save myself. One day I saw an ad in the newspaper about an upcoming Prince concert. I remembered his movie and that song, and how they made me feel. I really wanted to go, but not alone. My sister told me her husband was a big fan (her, not so much) and that he'd probably go with me if I had my heart set. He did.

October 1988

Do you want him, or do you want me?

We had tickets in the Nosebleed Section because we'd gotten them so late, but it didn't matter. The entire arena was filled by the presence of the little, ethereally beautiful man on the stage. I was captivated--couldn't take my eyes off of him. But the music transformed me. He sang of love and sensuality and peace and God and sex. His voice resonated, reverberated throughout my body. I sometimes make a joke, saying if he'd asked me that night for all of my worldly possessions I would have given them to him. But it was the truth.

The next day I went to every record store I could find and bought every tape Prince had ever released. I drove around for hours listening to his music. He didn't become "the soundtrack of my life". He became my reason to keep living.

1991

I want to jump for joy and thank him I'm not alone

I'd gotten a bigger and better job and moved back with my husband. While stalking a record store (my new hobby), I came across Prince's official fan magazine, Controversy. Not only was it heaven on the page with big, color, never before seen pictures of him, but it had a pen pal section. Suddenly, I wasn't alone. I'd found my tribe--men and women who experienced Prince the way I did.  Miraculously, the first person I connected with became my partner. I like to say Prince gave her to me.

Present day

Can't begin to understand how I feel about you, everything I want to do I can't do without you

My life is filled with good friends who I connect with over songs and youtube clips, through marriages and divorce, through children and grandchildren, over the mountains that life put in front of our best efforts and under the bridges that we've fallen from. When we're happy, we listen to his music and watch his movies. When we're sad, we do the same. Since his passing, we cling to each other and assure ourselves we'll get through this, and that we'll find joy again.

FullSizeRender 4

I've seen Prince in concert over one hundred times. I have every song he's released, and sometimes multiple versions thereof. My partner and I celebrate his milestones--birthdays, awards, performances. Our annual Super Bowl parties celebrate his 2007 award-winning appearance. Many of our milestones are commemorated with concerts that hold special meaning. There is not one room in our home in which he's not evident, either in fact or by influence. (We're still trying to figure out how to put the Shower Poster in the bathroom.)

My friends and I are asking questions of ourselves and each other. Where do we go from  here? Who will we be, if not Prince Fans? How will it feel to not look forward to his next album, the next concert, the next TV appearance?

The only answer is that his music is a part of us. It's in our cells and are the songs in the background of everything. Our experiences with him and because of him live on.

• Getting his autograph in NYC and almost fainting because we thought he'd levitated, a tiny angel dressed in white.
• Nearly being "rear-ended" by him in MPLS because he was driving too fast and we were going too slow.
• Hearing gunshot and fearing for our lives as we left Glam Slam, his former club.
• Flying to England for concerts and spending a sleepless night at the only after show I've attended.
• Going to his store in MPLS so many times the manager told his staff "Play whatever videos they want to see".
• Grieving with him, from a distance, when he lost his child.
• Meeting our pen pals. (LOVE YOU ALL)
• Standing outside at 2am in line for a show, with some of the craziest and friendliest people we've ever met.

Never say the words "They're gone"

The world is off its axis. I already miss him. My heart aches, and in quiet moments it's hard to breathe. I'm not ready to watch all of the tributes. I can't even listen to his songs without overwhelming sadness. But I'm ready, finally, to say a few things to him.

Dearest Prince,

I am ever grateful for the beautiful ways you've touched (saved) my life and for all of the people that are in it because of you. I'm thankful for your music which fuels my soul. 

There was no way you could have known, but it was always love. I've been blessed to have shared the planet with you.

I wish you heaven. 

#Supernatural: Unforgettable

After watching Supernatural last night, I realized there will be a fissure in my world when the show ends. The Winchester boys are fully developed characters with hearts and souls that bring them alive on the screen. Their lives and their stories connect with viewers, and although we all know they are fictional characters, we cry for them, cheer for them, grieve with them.

A writer's dream, by the way. I often wonder if any one connected with Chey and Zander so deeply. Years from now (and hopefully with a few more of their stories in the world), will anyone remember them the way the Winchesters will undoubtedly be remembered?

Last night, the deaths of both men were foreshadowed. First Dean thought Sam died. In order to try to save him, he overdosed on stolen drugs to have a chance at making a deal with a Reaper. In the process, he nearly died. Thankfully you don't get more resilient or bad-ass than the Winchester brothers. They both survived against harrowing odds--even managing to kill three werewolves in the process. A rush of relief came first, then the usual smile at their hard-won victory.

For a brief moment in time, however, we glimpsed three possible futures. Sam, dead. Dean, dead. Both brothers gone. It was...devastating. Is that how the show will end? Hard to say. As Jensen Ackles offered in an interview, it's either going to end tragically or not tragically. For me, no matter how it ends, it's going to be gut-wrenching.

And unforgettable.

#teamdean #supernaturalforever

#Excerpt exchange: Kim Cox

Authors from all over the world are celebrating the season by guesting on each other’s blogs–an Eggcerpt Exchange. Please join me in welcoming Kim Cox, author of  the romantic suspense, ALL THIS TIME. 

ALL THIS TIME Style & Profile Series – Book 1 Treachery, Greed, and Psychosis

At thirty, Jenny Morgan’s biological clock is ticking. But as a fashion magazine CEO with a busy schedule and no significant other, her wish is unlikely to come true. When her father receives a potentially terminal diagnosis, he longs for a grandchild before he dies. With her religious beliefs, a sperm donor isn’t an alternative. Jenny’s only immediate available option is her single co-worker and best friend, Trevor Drake. Can she really trust him to be a good husband?

Trevor has loved Jenny since college, but she only sees him as a friend with no ambition. After he learns of her predicament, he proposes and sets out to prove he can provide everything she needs. Jenny is determined to have a prenuptial agreement with an “out” clause after one year. Can Trevor convince Jenny of his love by then?

As if they don’t have enough on their plate, someone at the magazine is out to stop their wedding and their impending parenthood, and destroy the magazine’s reputation. Jenny is nearly killed in a sabotage attempt. Can Jenny and Trevor to make a life together while uncovering a common enemy?

Available now in print and electronic formats through Amazon Kindle and Amazon Print,  24Symbols, Barnes & Noble Nook, iTunes iBook, Kobo, and Page Foundry.

Excerpt Prologue After she took the last swig of cola, she hurled the empty cup into the trash and paced across the plush carpeting in front of her desk. The office was quiet—everyone had left hours ago, leaving her to finish their work as usual.

If it weren't for her, the magazine would've folded years ago. But did any of them appreciate her? Her organizational skills? Her stamina? No! Damn all the Morgans, especially Joe Morgan. Memories rushed into her mind. Ten years ago, when his wife died, who had looked after him day after day, made sure he ate, petted him, nurtured his aching heart and later, gave him her body to help him release the stresses he faced? She had, that’s who. Well, she hadn't really had sex with him. A glass of wine with dinner and the knock-out powder fixed him right up. Who was to say what did or didn't happen when Joe had awakened beside her and both of them naked?

She shivered at the image of sex with such a dried-up old prune.

To him, she had been just his secretary. His right-hand girl, that’s what she’d been, taking care of his business when his grief proved too much for him to handle and his precious daughter had returned to college, leaving him alone. When she invited him to her home, it gave him a change of scenery, a reprieve from staring at the same walls and the same rooms he’d shared with his late wife for thirty-five years. Joe had made promises of a promotion within the company during those times to repay her for helping him through his pain.

When she told him she was pregnant, he wanted to marry her and become his little missus, but that wasn’t her style. Running Morgan Fashions magazine was her dream. Not playing mommy, nor nursemaid to an old man. She would've made the sacrifice, though, if only for a little while. At least until she gained control of the magazine. Then he caught her, found the telltale sign on the sheets that morning when he'd arrived early for breakfast. As soon as she turned off the shower, she knew she’d been found out. She’d lied about being pregnant and he knew it. Joe was furious, called their relationship quits and demoted her to the mailroom.

She ground angry tears from her eyes. At first, she planned to burn the place to the ground, but knew she could catch more Morgans with sweetness rather than vengeance, especially after Joe retired and handed the reins over to his daughter, Jenny. All his promises had been lies. Joe’s plan all along had been to hand the company over to a blood relative.

That was ancient history. Her mind returned to the present. Too bad Joe hadn't died from his heart attack last night. Jenny had tried to keep it a secret from the staff and everyone else. This girl keeps her ear tuned in for everything. That’s the only way she would be able to dish out just desserts to the Morgans.

She slammed her hands onto the desk. After scratching her way through college, she’d be damned if her business degree would amount to nothing. Now that the managing editor position was available, there was no way anyone was stealing it from her. Jenny liked ambition in her editors, and none of the other potentials had her determination or her persistence.

The only threat to her plans was that wimpy Trevor Drake. He might be Jenny’s best friend, but he didn’t measure up. He relied heavily on his assistant to keep him organized and the bachelor in him couldn't turn away a pretty pair of legs if they killed him. Even if he got the position, she’d prove him incompetent and step right into the job and still come out as innocent as a newborn.

A sly smile spread across her lips. Like a mason lays his bricks one at a time to build a well-constructed house, she would triumph by tackling one obstacle at a time and use Trevor’s laid-back, pushover personality against him. He’d be a cinch to handle.

Jenny Morgan, however, would be much more difficult to fool. Yes, one obstacle at a time. Available now in print and electronic formats through 24Symbols, Amazon Kindle and Amazon Print,  Barnes & Noble Nook, iTunes iBook, Kobo, and Page Foundry.

About Kim Cox Kim Cox is an author of Paranormal, Mystery, Suspense and Romance. She lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina with her chain saw artist husband, their West Highland White Terriers--Scooter and Harley, and a Yorkie mix, Candi. Kim is published in novels, short stories and articles. 

Sign up for Kim's Readers List for exclusive information, new releases, contests, giveaways, and free books.

Visit her at the following sites: Author's Website: http://www.kimcoxauthor.com Blogs: Kim's Musings, Kim's Author Support Page Amazon Author Page: http://amazon.com/author/kimcox Social Media locations: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kimcoxauthor Twitter: https://twitter.com/KimCoxAuthor Google: https://plus.google.com/+KimCoxAuthor/posts Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/kimcox Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kimwrtr/

I Used to Have Pen Pals

Before the Internet I use to have pen pals. Some of the pen pals were in circles with my other pen pals and we had community of people with shared interest. When the Internet came along it seemed logical to send email instead of snail mail. That was a wonderful boon. No postage costs and no stationery to buy. ​Except I love beautiful stationery. I continued to buy it even though I had no one to share with. The second problem, and really the biggest, was that with instant communication, there was no time for anything to happen between emails. Therefore, there was nothing to talk about. Those days or weeks between letters became seconds and email ‘letters’ got shorter and shorter until they disappeared into the black hole of social media.

First it was My Space. At least you had to log on to MySpace to see if anyone had written to you.​Then there was Facebook and no one wrote to anyone specifically. People just blurted any thought out there for you to see, or not, on your feed. And no one was communicating with anyone.

I miss connecting with people who share the same interest as I have. Blogs seem to have the most potential to actually communicate —assuming people comment on posts. I blog because I miss that community I had back in the 90s.

My interests have changed since then in many ways. I don’t show dogs any more or do crafts. I still write and more of my time is spent on that. I still love music and movies and books. My favorite authors are still the same. It’s nice to be able to find LGBT books out in the open instead of only available on hard to find websites. Supernatural/paranormal books, movies, and TV shows abound.

Through blogging I hope to connect with others who share my interests. So if you write,or like to read, love animals, or enjoy music, stop by and say so. I look forward to meeting you.

#EggcerptExchange: Carmen Stefanescu

Authors from all over the world are celebrating the season by guesting on each other's blogs--an Egg-cerpt Exchange. I'm excited to have on LAM today poet and author Carmen Stefanescu to tell us about her book, SHADOWS OF THE PAST.

About Carmen:

Carmen Stefanescu resides in Romania, the native country of the infamous vampire Count Dracula, but where, for about 50 years of communist dictatorship, just speaking about God, faith, reincarnation or paranormal phenomena could have led someone to great trouble - the psychiatric hospital if not to prison.

Teacher of English and German in her native country and mother of two daughters, Carmen Stefanescu survived the grim years of oppression, by escaping in a parallel world, that of the books.

She has dreamed all her life to become a writer, but many of the things she wrote during those years remained just drawer projects. The fall of the Ceausescu’s regime in 1989, and the opening of the country to the world meant a new beginning for her. She started publishing. Poems first, and then prose. Both in English.

Shadows of the Past, paranormal/light romance/light mystery/light horror was released at the end of 2012 by Wild Child publishing, USA.

Learn more about Carmen at:

http://shadowspastmystery.blogspot.ro/

https://twitter.com/Carmen_Books

http://www.pinterest.com/carmens007/

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Carmen-Stefanescu-Books/499245716760283

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6624397.Carmen_Stefanescu

https://plus.google.com/117216040843648957646/posts

http://www.amazon.com/Carmen-Stefanescu/e/B00APVDGAA/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

About SHADOWS OF THE PAST:

Publisher: Wild Child Publishing

Genre: paranormal/light romance/light historical/light horror.

Anne's relationship with her boyfriend Neil has disintegrated. After a two-year separation, they pack for a week vacation in hopes of reconciling. But fate has other plans for them.

The discovery of a bejeweled cross and ancient human bones opens a door to a new and frightening world--one where the ghost of a medieval nun named Genevieve will not let Anne rest. This new world threatens not only to ruin Anne and Neil's vacation but to end all hopes of reconciliation as Anne feels compelled to help free Genevieve's soul from its torment.

Can Anne save her relationship and help Genevieve find her eternal rest?

A touching, compelling story of tragedy, loss and the power of endless love and good magic. The twists and turns in this paranormal tale keep the reader guessing up to the end and weave themselves together into a quest to rekindle love.

SHADOWS OF THE PAST CAN BE FOUND AT:

Wild Child Publishing

AMAZON

All Romance

Barnes and Noble

Five Questions for Genevieve:

1. Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable Miss...

"Genevieve. My name is Genevieve, but Sister Clementa, the Abbess, and some of her followers call me The witch."

2. Tell me, Genevieve, where are you living?

Genevieve ( a small sigh escapes her lips. Then she shrugs) "Well, for the moment I reside at St. Mary’s Abbey. On top of a mountain in Britain, in the...cursed forest."

3. Do you have any schooling?

Genevieve (nods and pats and invisible crease of her dress) "Kind Old Bertha, who took care of me after my family perished, taught me to read and write. Not only English but also Latin. And, most important, she taught me how to prepare healing potions from plants and herbs. Perhaps that’s why the Abbess hates me so much. A peasant girl of the 13th century is dangerous if she knows more than her superiors, I think."

4. What are your worst fears or nightmare?

Genevieve (throws a shy look around her. She shivers and her voice is small) "I fear the cursed forest. This forest is responsible for what happened to my family. My father’s odd behavior, the death of my siblings. All the evil that lurks in it.

My nightmare - the Abbess, sister Clementa, who threatens me all the time with sending me to the stake. I can’t understand why she wants me out of the way."

5. Is it anything that you secretly desire?

Genevieve (blushes and wrings her hands. Then she looks me directly in the eyes. Her voice is strong now. ) "To become Andrew’s wife and grow a family. If his family agrees....If the Abbess lets me go... If God forgives me for giving up being a nun.....If I escape alive from the forest.... If....”

1. Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable Miss...

"Genevieve. My name is Genevieve, but Sister Clementa, the Abbess, and some of her followers call me The witch."

2. Tell me, Genevieve, where are you living?

Genevieve ( a small sigh escapes her lips. Then she shrugs) "Well, for the moment I reside at St. Mary’s Abbey. On top of a mountain in Britain, in the...cursed forest."

3. Do you have any schooling?

Genevieve (nods and pats and invisible crease of her dress) "Kind Old Bertha, who took care of me after my family perished, taught me to read and write. Not only English but also Latin. And, most important, she taught me how to prepare healing potions from plants and herbs. Perhaps that’s why the Abbess hates me so much. A peasant girl of the 13th century is dangerous if she knows more than her superiors, I think."

4. What are your worst fears or nightmare?

Genevieve (throws a shy look around her. She shivers and her voice is small) "I fear the cursed forest. This forest is responsible for what happened to my family. My father’s odd behavior, the death of my siblings. All the evil that lurks in it.

My nightmare - the Abbess, sister Clementa, who threatens me all the time with sending me to the stake. I can’t understand why she wants me out of the way."

5. Is it anything that you secretly desire?

Genevieve (blushes and wrings her hands. Then she looks me directly in the eyes. Her voice is strong now. ) "To become Andrew’s wife and grow a family. If his family agrees....If the Abbess lets me go... If God forgives me for giving up being a nun.....If I escape alive from the forest.... If....”

1. Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable Miss...

"Genevieve. My name is Genevieve, but Sister Clementa, the Abbess, and some of her followers call me The witch."

2. Tell me, Genevieve, where are you living?

Genevieve ( a small sigh escapes her lips. Then she shrugs) "Well, for the moment I reside at St. Mary’s Abbey. On top of a mountain in Britain, in the...cursed forest."

3. Do you have any schooling?

Genevieve (nods and pats and invisible crease of her dress) "Kind Old Bertha, who took care of me after my family perished, taught me to read and write. Not only English but also Latin. And, most important, she taught me how to prepare healing potions from plants and herbs. Perhaps that’s why the Abbess hates me so much. A peasant girl of the 13th century is dangerous if she knows more than her superiors, I think."

4. What are your worst fears or nightmare?

Genevieve (throws a shy look around her. She shivers and her voice is small) "I fear the cursed forest. This forest is responsible for what happened to my family. My father’s odd behavior, the death of my siblings. All the evil that lurks in it.

My nightmare - the Abbess, sister Clementa, who threatens me all the time with sending me to the stake. I can’t understand why she wants me out of the way."

5. Is it anything that you secretly desire?

Genevieve (blushes and wrings her hands. Then she looks me directly in the eyes. Her voice is strong now. ) "To become Andrew’s wife and grow a family. If his family agrees....If the Abbess lets me go... If God forgives me for giving up being a nun.....If I escape alive from the forest.... If....”

A Night at Lady Jane's Salon

To places near or far, my partner and I love to travel. I especially love the adventures I get to have as a newly published author, meeting readers and finding comraderie with fellow writers. Last Monday  was one such adventure. I was scheduled to read an except from my book, HOUSE OF THE RISING SON at Lady Jane's Salon in New York City. Since parking in the city can be a nightmare, we decided to take the train--and because we are pathologically early we timed the trip to include a two hour window to relax before we needed to be at the venue.

We neglected to factor in the "police activity at the Botanical Gardens", which was announced over the train's loudspeaker. At the first notice that the train would be delayed, we smugly congratulated ourselves for building in ample time for just such emergencies.

When not at a complete stop, the train inched along. We checked our watches compulsively, growing more anxious as the minutes ticked away. Finally, we arrived at Grand Central Station at precisely the time we should have been walking into the doors of Lady Jane's.

Our short little legs sprinted to the street for a taxi, not bothering to stop at a restroom despite a desperate need to do just that. Given my increasing stress level (due in part to all of the police activity lining the streets and part to the sands of time streaming to the bottom of the hour glass), it's a wonder I didn't have an accident.

Speaking of accidents, once in the taxi we seemed to court death and barely avoided hitting pedestrians as they nonchalantly crossed the terrifyingly busy streets. Apparently NYC folks believe that if they don't look at the vehicle or driver, they won't get hit. New Yorkers, I offer you a word of advice: Do not visit Connecticut. Just stay home. Hit and runs are a pastime here. The streets are not your friends.

Miraculously we made it to Madame X's, the sexy, sultry bar that hosts Lady Jane's. To enter, you have to walk down a short flight of stairs to a door below street level. Once in the club, you have to walk up a long flight of stairs to the Salon.

The space for the reading was cozy, filled with low, ornate sofas and an eclectic array of chairs tucked into dark alcoves around the room. At the far end of the room and up a short wrought iron stair case was the small stage.

There was a great deal of excitement in the air, as the night also celebrated Lady Jane's seventh year. The room was packed with readers, writers and other industry professionals. Representatives from Women in Need, a nonprofit organization serving homeless women and children were on hand to receive a contribution from Lady Jane's. A contingent from Tor Forge Books was there to support their author Katie Lynch, and sponsor the anniversary celebration. In addition to Katie and me, Hope Tarr (Lady Jane co-founder), Leanna Renee Hieber (Lady Jane co-founder) and Lauren Willig were on hand to read excerpts from their works.

I'm not going to lie to you. I was so nervous. I mean...who the hell am I to think I belong among these multi-published, award winning authors? But I did it. I read the first chapter of my book and guess what? I didn't faint, and the audience laughed in all the right places. Maybe they liked it. Liked me?

After the readings and a champagne toast (courtesy of Tor), people headed downstairs to the bar. We debated grabbing something to eat, or going home. Home won.

By three a.m. the adventure was over and we were back in Connecticut, humbly walking our dogs and dreading the six a.m. alarm. Back to the day job.