Showing posts with label Alaska. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alaska. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

It's All in the Setting! by Jannine Gallant

I don’t know about you, but for me, the setting just might sell the book. If I read a back-cover blurb and am intrigued by a unique setting, I’m more likely to give a new author a try than if the story takes place somewhere that doesn’t resonate with me. Some locales—like Hawaii—just shout romance. I immediately picture long walks on moonlit beaches, swimming with turtles, hot guys surfing… You get the picture! But sometimes Romance is more fun when you find it in unusual places.



For suspense books, readers may expect something a little grittier. A place with a darker side… But, I’m not a big city girl. I live in the woods…okay maybe not the way a bear does, but they are right outside my door in Lake Tahoe. I like to make my characters rough it a little. Every Step She Takes contains a little of both worlds. My heroine is from San Francisco. She covets five star accommodations and well-equipped gyms for exercise. I pulled her out of her element and tossed her down in the wilds of Alaska. The following excerpt is an example of what she has to deal with...

One foot in front of the other. Stumbling down the trail in the semi-dark a short time later, she repeated the mantra through clenched teeth. Ahead of her, Travis walked with a jaunty step. Obviously he was one of those disgusting morning people. Another thing they didn’t have in common.
“How’re you doing?” He called over his shoulder without having the decency to turn around.
“Peachy.”
“We can take a break and have something to eat once we get off the main trail.”
The amusement in his voice found a home on her third nerve. “Wylie can have my share. I’m not hungry.”
“How long are you going to sulk?”
A yawn nearly cracked her jaw. “Not sure. Maybe another hour or so.”
“Good to know. I’ll set my watch and check back with you then.”
Grinning, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her bad mood evaporated as the sun rose, shining golden through the trees. With each passing mile, the forest thinned, turning to a stretch of rugged grassland.
“Damn.”
“What’s wrong?” Her voice croaked from disuse. She cleared it.
“Without cover, it’s easy to spot someone in this terrain with a pair of binoculars. Forget what I said about taking a break. We need to run instead.”
“How am I supposed to do that carrying a backpack?”
He stopped abruptly. “Hot damn, that must be the secondary trail. See those scuffmarks. I’m guessing Sutton dropped his pack there, maybe to pull out a map or food.”
Grace stared at the ground and blinked. Dirt and rocks, a few bent grass stems... Wylie sniffed the area before wandering off.
Turning, Travis faced her. Worry lines fanned out from his eyes. “I really want to lose the guy tailing us. See the trees up there near the base of the mountain. We can rest when we get to them.”
Her skill at judging distance without convenient street blocks was sadly lacking, but she guessed it was at least a couple of miles. “I suppose I can run that far. Let’s do it.”
His eyes warmed. “You’re a good sport.” Bending, he brushed away the prints in the dirt. “Not much I can do about the grass. Try to stay on the rocks until we get a few yards away. This isn’t much of a trail, and I’m hoping the man following us will pass by without noticing it.”
Stepping carefully, she followed Travis across the uneven ground. Wylie tore through the grass, ears flapping as a big jack rabbit bounded before him. After a couple of minutes, he returned, a disappointed look in his eyes.
“Sorry, buddy.” She gasped for air. Running with the pack was an effort. It thumped painfully against her tailbone, but she didn’t dare stop to adjust the straps. The distance between her and Travis increased gradually. She forced herself to run faster.
Reaching the trees took an eternity. Focused on the blur of green, it slowly morphed into individual, towering spruce and hemlocks. The rising sun filtered through the branches, and a bed of needles padded the ground beneath her aching feet.
“We can stop now.”
Grace slid the pack from her shoulders and let it fall with a thump. She dropped next to it, her chest rising and falling with her labored breathing. Rivulets of sweat soaked her shirt, and needles clung to damp skin. With tongue hanging and sides heaving, Wylie flopped down a short distance away.
“You okay?”
Letting out a long breath, she closed her eyes. “Yeah.”
“I’m unbelievably impressed.”
Grace opened one eye, squinting against the light angling down on her face. Travis stood next to her. His thigh muscles bunched beneath soft cotton sweatpants when he squatted beside his pack.
“By what, my graceful collapse or sweat drenched hair?”
“Good God, Grace, half the Navy SEALS I trained with couldn’t have maintained that pace. You’re an animal.”
“A compliment guaranteed to put a smile on any woman’s face.”

So, what are your favorite settings? Do you prefer country or city? A tropical beach or a snowbound cabin? How about my Alaskan wilderness? Is my sweat-drenched heroine destined for romance?

Every Step She Takes is available at AmazonBarnes & Noble and Kobo. For info on my other books, check out my Website.

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Summer Christmas

Binge-watching Christmas movies in the summer should be a crime. It would be the only way to get me not to do it.

“But, Officer, I just took a peek.”

“Ma’am, we have reason to believe your TV has been tuned to the Christmas in July event on one of those women’s channels. Repeatedly.”

“No, I…”

“Is that glitter on your shirt, ma’am?”

“Umm…”

“Are you drinking hot cocoa?”

“Well…”

“Do I smell an evergreen Yankee candle burning?”

“Busted.”

I spent a good portion of last month watching holiday movies from the Hallmark Channel. I recorded a mess of them and worked my way through, one cozy happily ever after at a time. While the temps outside were in the 80s, I was doing my Christmas dreaming with actresses like Candace Cameron Bure and Lacey Chabot.

I’m willing to admit I need a 12-step program of some kind to tear me away from these flicks. Know anyone who runs one? I’m in tough shape.

I served dinner last night on leftover Christmas-themed paper plates.

Yeah. It’s bad.

One movie, Christmas Under Wraps, took place in one of my favorite places – Alaska. Like, how am I supposed to resist Candace Cameron Bure AND Alaska? It’s as if someone asked, “Christine, what kind of a holiday story can we write for you?” Umm, this one.

There was nothing outstandingly original about the film, but I thoroughly enjoyed absolutely everything about it. Bure plays a doctor with her entire life mapped out—become a doctor in Boston, get married—but of course the Universe has other plans.

Enter being sent to a small-town hospital in Garland, Alaska. The total opposite of her dream. When the hero comes on the scene, you pretty much know she isn’t going anywhere. I mean, he wears flannel, work boots, and has sawdust in his pickup truck. Not to mention gorgeous brown eyes. Recipe for my perfect man right there, folks.

So I’m humming Christmas tunes while working in the garden. Big deal. Maybe I made a batch of gingerbread men. No need to panic. It’s possible I plugged in the tiny white lights on my indoor trees. Everybody just stay calm.

I’ll still have plenty of holiday spirit left for December… you know, when I watch all those movies again and some new ones too.

Shut up.

What’s your favorite holiday movie? Do you only watch it during the actual season or do you need a room next to mine in the Crazy Christmas Addiction program?

Toodles,
Chris

The Maple Leaf Series, Books 1-4 available now! Book 1 is always FREE in ebook. 

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Suspense Stories Everywhere! by Rolynn Anderson

The scenery on the north coast of Kauai is too glorious for words, a range of spiked green mountains falling to bright blue seas edged by miles of warm sandy beaches.  Dazzling beauty.  Makes me want to buy a house overlooking Hanalei Bay, taking in the Bali Hai vista, forever.

So when I saw an OPEN HOUSE sign beckoning me to check out such a house, I did.  Drove my car right up that driveway. Never mind the house's five million dollar price tag.  Though it's much more fun to view this spectacular place in person, here's the house on a quirky YouTube, in two parts.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5lrwqK_zRU  Wendy's Amazing House

But the house is only one part of my blog topic.  More interesting (since we can't buy the house), is the fact that Wendy, the owner, is the widow of a man who was 'lost' in a desert in California.  Her husband was found much later, dead, in a car, in the Los Angeles river, with his hands chopped off. AND HE WAS A WRITER! The story is being told to us by Wendy's present boyfriend, the real estate agent who is helping her sell the five million dollar house.  Can you believe it?

Even while I drove away from the house and the gobsmacking vista, my novelist brain was awhirl!  Who was this handless man and is there some relationship to who he was and how Wendy became so wealthy? Plots begin forming in my mind.  How about in yours?  The funny thing...I was less interested in the real story than I was in developing scenes and characters that went in directions I controlled.  Is that something peculiar to writers, I wonder?

Once again, with this chance encounter, I learned how truth is stranger than fiction...and how my brain whirls when delicious suspense (and fabulous views) brighten my life.  Question is: based on your experience, do writers experience life in different ways than non-writers (like this need to take real plots in different directions)?

Example for me:  I watched a TV show about savants, including an actor.  These were people who have weird ways of remembering events.  Did I want to learn more about her?  No.  I wanted to develop my own 'savant,' entangled in a suspense plot.  Result:  Lie Catchers, set in Petersburg, Alaska, a heroine with a strange 'filing system.'

Blurb:

Two unsolved murders will tear apart an Alaska fishing town unless a writer and a government agent reveal their secret obsessions.

Treasury agent Parker Browne is working undercover in Petersburg, Alaska to investigate a money scam and a murder. His prime suspect, Liv Hanson, is a freelance writer struggling to save her family’s business. Free spirited, full of life, and with a talent for catching liars, she fascinates Parker.

Trying to prove she’s a legitimate writer who cares about Petersburg’s issues, Liv pens a series of newspaper articles about an old, unsolved murder. When her cold case ties in with Parker’s investigation, bullets start to fly.


Parker understands money trails, and Liv knows the town residents. But he gave up on love two years ago, and she trusts no one, especially with her carefully guarded secret. If they mesh their skills to find the killers, will they survive the fallout?



Monday, June 1, 2015

Relatives from Hell by Rolynn Anderson

I’m pleasantly exhausted after a week-long family gathering at my house in California.  Friends lent us their house to bed down six people; the other three stayed with my husband and me.  My house was the center of activity for eleven of us for seven days, together! The success of the event and the even-temperaments of everyone, despite the inevitable conflicts about where to go and when to go…made me remember reunions that weren’t quite so perfect, with the relatives from hell who put the ‘t’ in turmoil.  Are you thinking of one right now?
-the drunk
-the controller
-the loud-mouth contrarian
-the passive aggressive one
-the annoying prankster
-the one who refuses to do anything
-the pouter
-the complainer
-others?

My deceased aunt Frances (Frannie), comes to mind - unmarried PE teacher and tap dance instructor, prematurely wrinkled, hair askew, and always racing from one place to another.  A know-it-all; a conniver.  She had to be in charge at every reunion; if it wasn’t her idea, it wasn’t worth a cent.  She used her last will and testament, the promise of an inheritance, to keep her nieces and nephews in line.  I called her on her manipulation tactic; I got none of her tainted money.

The good thing about Fran?  See, I’m an organized, plan-ahead kind of person, so I have to be careful I don’t become the ‘Fran’ of our yearly reunions.  I ask family members ahead of time for activity proposals and once we’re all together, we make sure the schedule is flexible with each person’s interests met.  This takes good listening skills and means the whole group won’t always be together, but everyone has a good time.  And no, I’m not holding out an inheritance as an enticement for my nieces and nephews to be nice to me.  Instead, I give each a certain amount of money at the end of each college term, if their grades are good enough AND they’ve signed up for the next year.


So here’s your chance.  Describe your relative from hell…and the negative lessons she/he taught you.   

And if you want to read about an interesting family dynamic in Petersburg, Alaska, LIE CATCHERS is for you.  Liv has returned to her home town (where her brother is the sheriff) to help her mother save the family business.  

Here are the Amazon and Wild Rose Press buy sites:




Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Is This Really a Road Not Taken? by Rolynn Anderson

Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ever wonder if you are leading or following?  As much as I want to take up my machete and hack a path through a jungle of overgrowth, I have to wonder if some trailblazer got there before me and I’m merely retracing an old route.  Emerson speaks of risk and originality; I worry I’m a retread.

A banal example: My husband and I have ripped out the carpet in our entire house, replaced by gorgeous (and expensive!) wood floors.  My husband is skeptical of this move, not just because of the expense.  He likes the feel of carpet under his feet, even if those feet leave trails on carpet that appear only weeks after the new stuff is installed.  I hate that about carpet, along with the general difficulty of keeping carpet clean.  How do you keep little critters out of the pile?  Is it even possible?

The house looks gorgeous, like something out of an interior design magazine.  But it looked pretty before, too.  Now, think.  You ever watch those house renovation or house hunter shows on TV?  Note how the house built in 1930 is fully carpeted, but the sales person gleefully lifts the carpet from a tack strip and says to the potential buyer, “It’s got wood floors!  Aren’t you lucky?”

An entire population took the wood ‘trail’ in 1930.  Millions decided to tread the all-carpet path in 1960.  Here in 2015, wood rules.  And don’t get me started on tile, granite and/or Caesar stone for kitchen counters.

As much as I want to be a trailblazer as writer, spouse, friend, gardener, golfer and interior designer, I have a sneaking feeling that I’m the follower...not the leader Emerson had in mind.

All that being said, not many writers have set a double murder mystery in Petersburg, Alaska.  I hope.  Take a look at my last novel, LIE CATCHERS:



Here are the Amazon and Wild Rose Press buy sites: