Is 2018 The Year Authors Become Activists? by Rolynn Anderson

I marched January of 2017; I'm set for another public 'appearance' on January 20th, 2018, pink pussy hat perched on my head, this time with six of my friends instead of three.  I'm not comfortable in these big crowds, but standing up for human rights is worth it, and the situation is dire enough for me to display my displeasure.  

I never thought I'd have to roll up my activist sleeves for the good of writers, but recent reports about Amazon coupled with our lackluster sales makes me wonder.  

In order to get our stories to readers, trad and indie writers are facing grave issues, according to Mark Coker, owner of Smashwords.  I encourage you to read his predictions for 2018 and listen to ALL of Scott Gallworthy’s video:  http://blog.smashwords.com/2017/12/2018-book-industry-predictions.html

Only last month, thinking worldwide was the way to go, I clicked the button to end my exclusivity (BAD LIES and CÉZANNE’S GHOST) with the big ‘A.'  Though Amazon still sells all eight of my books, Smashwords offers six of my novels through KOBO, iTunes, B&N, and other distributers.

No matter how much I'd like to bury my head in creating stories, how can I ignore the politics that prevent writers from being paid fairly and keeps readers from buying our books?

Have you come up with some ways to gain power in this situation?

1.  Certainly I could use more information.  Which experts have a good handle on the dynamics of our industry?

2.  I have left KU.  Do I stay out and support others who to do the same?

3.  Would selling my books on my website be the way to take power back? 

4.  Your question goes here:

Weigh in if you have some ideas about Coker and Gallworthy's concerns.  And if you think I should start knitting another hat, let's figure out a color and a shape :-)  As always, we mush on!

***

Meanwhile, want fly with me to Italy?  You can pretend you’ve got a chance to win a golf tournament helped by the caddy of your dreams.  Here’s BAD LIES http://a.co/0DuYNPn:

Italy’s haunted caves spell danger for an American golfer and a NATO geologist

***

Sophie Maxwell is a late-blooming, unorthodox golfer, and mother of a precocious thirteen year-old. Determined to put divorce, bankruptcy, and a penchant for gambling in her past, Sophie goes to Italy for a qualifying golf tournament.

Jack Walker turned his back on a pro golfing career to become a geologist. As a favor to his ailing father he’ll caddy for Sophie; off hours, he’ll find caves on the Mediterranean coast, suitable for NATO listening posts for terrorist activity.

Someone is determined to stop Jack’s underground hunt and ruin Sophie’s chances to win her tournament.

On a Rome golf course and in the Amalfi coast’s haunted caves, all the odds are stacked against Sophie and Jack.  In their gamble of a lifetime, who wins?

Web and Blog:

http://rolynnanderson.com

Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rolynn-Anderson/188767867821613  

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/rolynnanderson

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4990049.Rolynn_Anderson

Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/author/rolynnanderson

Learning by Christine DePetrillo

Last year was my most prosperous writing year to date. I’ve been doing this author “thing” for over fifteen years and finally have some momentum going. I can’t call it a hobby anymore. It’s not just something I do for the fun of it, although I do have a blast most times. It’s gotten to be serious business these days.  

How did this shift come about?

I spent money. Yeah, I spent money on writing. Money beyond an editor and a cover artist. Money on advertising and a small street team. It was money well spent too.

In February of 2016, I took the plunge and paid what I considered an exorbitant amount to have one of my books advertised in Book Bub, a reader newsletter that targets specific readers. I’d heard from more than one fellow author that they’d made back the money they’d spent on this promotional opportunity and then some.

Still I was reluctant. I was tired of always taking a hit in the writing department. I slaved away for hours and hours after the day job and wasn’t seeing any financial rewards for my labor. I couldn’t reach the readers I needed to by just blasting images and links and clever one-liners on Facebook groups that had anything to do with reading and books. I was sick of checking my Amazon rank and finding it to be large, unspeakably embarrassing numbers.

I was ready to quit altogether.

Finally, I decided to go for it as a last ditch effort to make writing a semi-respectable profession for myself. If it didn’t produce some solid sales, I was done. I doled out the cash and waited.

I wasn’t disappointed. The book I advertised was free and the downloads came pouring in. I didn’t make any money off those downloads, BUT those lovely readers were kind enough to buy the other books in the series. A lot of them. Soon I was watching my ranks go down and my earnings go up! I was delighted and refueled to continue spinning tales.

People were really reading my stuff. They were leaving reviews. They were emailing me with kind words that sent me over the moon. My characters were finally getting to meet the world. I was like a proud mom.

I supplemented this tidal wave with establishing a small, 3-person street team of fine women who had liked my books and were willing to spread the word. I promised them a monthly prize, and they agreed to talk about my books to their friends, re-post news about my books on Facebook, and other little things that have helped my sales.

For a few solid months, I saw some wonderful royalties and grew excited about the number of readers I was reaching. Sales tapered off after the summer and then I did something crazy like launch a new series that wasn’t really like the series that had garnered some fans. Things have been slow to pick up on that new series, but I’m gearing up to spend some money again and hopefully put these books in front of the right readers. I’m determined to have another great writing year.

In the meantime, I’m experimenting. I’ve been trying out different sponsored Facebook ads and have found that the ones with images with little text do the best. They are eye-catching enough to get people to notice them in their newsfeeds and make them curious enough to click for more info. I’m also dabbling with promoting the “Shop Now” button on Facebook to see if leading people directly to Amazon works better than providing several links in the ad for various retailers. And finally, I’m playing around with a review service where you pay a fee, your book becomes available to targeted, non-paid reviewers, and those reviewers promise to post reviews at various spots online. I’m figuring if I can get more reviews for my new series, then I can approach Book Bub with more confidence.

Blog tours, book trailers, and online parties never seem to work so I’ve cut those out of the cycle. I’m devoting my time and money to new ideas or things that have worked for me in the past.

In other words, I’m still learning. Over fifteen years doing this writing “thing” and there’s still so much to figure out.

What’s something new you’ve learned that works for your books? Or if you are a reader, how do you find those new books you grow to love?

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

SAFE, Book One, The Shielded Series, FREE in ebook!

PROTECTED, Book Two, The Shielded Series, available now!

SECURE, Book Three, The Shielded Series, coming soon!

Amazon Encore!

I'm happy to announce that two of my titles from The Wild Rose Press, Alaska Heart and Firefly Mountain, have been republished by Amazon Encore. This program seeks to get previously published books by "emerging authors" in front of readers with a magical Amazon push. I'm excited about the possibilities.

And about being called an "emerging author."

Firefly Mountain re-release date was August 25th.
Alaska Heart re-release date was September 1st.

Both are now available for download. Read more about Amazon Encore here.

Firefly Mountain

Firefighter Patrick Barre is determined to hide away in the woods of Vermont. He's content to do his job, remodel his house, and enjoy the company of his arson-detection dog, Midas. Scars from the fire that destroyed his family keep him from letting anyone into his life.

Gini Claremont uses her camera to celebrate the beauty of life. Nature soothes her, while anger is dangerous for Gini--and anyone near her. If she doesn't guard her emotions, her surroundings could go up in flames. Living alone, keeping busy, and letting her family keep watch on her is best for everyone.

When an arsonist declares war on their town, Patrick and Gini reluctantly band together to sift through the ashes, each holding a secret close to the heart. As the arson escalates, so does their mutual attraction. Will teaming up put out the fires, or start a whole new one?

Alaska Heart

Alaska is supposed to be cold, so why is Alanna Cormac on fire? 

Sent on a dream assignment to Denali National Park, nature magazine writer Alanna Cormac has no intentions of falling in love with Dale Ramsden, sexy Iditarod winner. When Dale, his family, and even his eighteen sled dogs charm their way into her heart, however, Alanna’s fast-track New York instincts crumble. The Alaskan landscape and the caress of a man too good to be true ignite feelings she never had time to explore before. Feelings that have her so blissfully busy she’s unaware she’s being watched. Judged. Targeted. 

She’s next.

Love will either save her or swallow her whole. Is there a difference?

Toodles,

Chris

www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com

The Maple Leaf Series – Books One to Four now available – More Than Pancakes, Book One is always FREE!

More Than Candy Corn – A Maple Leaf Series Halloween Novella, coming October!

Researching the Story: Grandmothers, Gun Ranges & Doohickeys

Okay, picture this…a woman in her seventies sitting on the second floor balcony of her house overlooking her perfectly kempt, picturesque backyard. The backyard is divided into four sections: the vegetable garden all the way to the left next a clear blue swimming pool, a grassy lawn complete with  a long, wooden swing, and to the right what the woman likes to call her “secret garden.” Here there are birdfeeders and birdbaths surrounded by a stone path and flora in abundance—confederate jasmine, ferns, butterfly bushes, and big, poofy, blue hydrangeas even the most seasoned gardener would envy. The secret garden is shaded by large, leafy trees and invites all winged creatures to enjoy what it has to offer. It’s summer and it’s Florida so the air is warm, damp, and tepid. It’s early in the morning, though, so the air isn’t yet heavy or hot enough to chase her back into the air conditioning. There’s a languid quality to the air and the early sun spills like liquid gold through the morning mist. The woman sips her coffee and watches the birds start to gather in the garden.

Suddenly, there’s a disturbance. The birds scatter from the feeder as a large squirrel climbs from the trees above and stealthily begins to shimmy his way down the feeder. The woman sighs. Along the back fence line, she and her husband have set up feeders designed for these nosy squirrels. They were a summer craft project for two of her six grandchildren. Yet this squirrel is deliberately worming his way to her “squirrel-proof” bird feeders instead of easily partaking breakfast from the squirrel feeders not ten feet away. “I don’t think so,” she says. She slowly reaches for something set against the wall to the left. It’s an old BB gun her father gave to her years ago. Still moving slowly as not to draw the attention of the animal, she rests the butt of the gun against her shoulder and sights it over the squirrel’s rear-end. A handful of seconds later, a loud report pierces the peaceful, morning lull. Birds scatter from the trees. The offending squirrel chitters his way back to the fence line and over it into the neighbor’s yard after being taught a thorough lesson.

This is a true story. In fact, I’m related to this woman. She is my grandmother. Next month when my new Harlequin Superromance novel hits the shelves, you could say this story is given its very own reincarnation. In the opening scene of the first chapter, the heroine, Adrian Carlton, is sighting her seven-year-old’s BB gun over the half-door leading out onto her own covered porch and she’s about to teach a squirrel a similar lesson. The squirrel gets away in this version but comes back later for another go-round, resulting in a trip to the emergency room for the book’s hero, James Bracken, who winds up in the crosshairs by accident.

Inspiration comes in many forms to the writer. For me and my July Superromance, His Rebel Heart, one of the many inspirations packed into this contemporary romance is my grandmother.



Can a rebel ever change his ways?  
Being a single mother and successful florist is tough, especially when your next-door neighbor is the man who shattered your heart. Eight years ago, bad boy James Bracken walked away from Adrian Carlton…and their unborn child. Now he’s back. And Adrian’s desire to protect her son from the truth of his biological father isn’t enough to hide the wild blue eyes of father and son, or to keep Adrian from surrendering to the raw passion between her and James. But is he truly the changed man he claims to be? Maybe this time his rebel heart really is home to stay.

 

When it came time for researching His Rebel Heart, I found my knowledge of BB guns sorely lacking. With a son well on his way to that "cowboy" age where interest in things like water guns and NERF guns becomes a reality (dear sweet lord, help me), I realized that I might need to know a bit more and not just for the purpose of my story. Fortunately, my husband knows quite a bit about guns and ammunition. He’s a cracking good shot. Or should I say “crack shot?” (Gun lingo? Not my forte.) When I started asking questions, he not only gave me the answers I needed, he asked if I would like a shooting lesson.

One afternoon we go into the woods—sans kiddies, of course. The hub tells me to put a few rounds in an old printer that once tormented me with regular error messages and random whining noises. “Only fair to put it out of its misery,” the hub tells me before we begin and I heartily agree. My shoulder tingles from the kick of the old weapon. He teaches me gun safety and marksmanship all in the course of a few hours. All the while, I ask what might seem like random questions to an outsider. (“If you accidentally wound up in the crosshairs, how bad would it hurt?” “Would you need a trip to the ER?” “How long would it take you to heal?”) The hub is accustomed to me peppering him with strange questions. He’s my live-in scuba diving, automotive, ammunitions, building and handyman expert. In the rare case he doesn’t have an answer for me, he does the research himself and gets back to me quickly. In return for my questions, he asks things like “At what range?” (“Fifteen to twenty feet,” I answer.) “Where’s the wound?” (I clear my throat and answer a little sheepishly. “In the hind quarters.” At this, he raises a brow. “It’s the dude, isn’t it?” he asks. I smile. “Of course!” He shakes his head and the corner of his mouth lifts into a wry smile. “That’s mean.” “It’s not out of spite,” I explain. “It's important to the story that I get him to the hospital.” He frowns “Does the shot have to be down below?” “Yes,” I tell him. “Why?” he asks. “Because it’s funny?” I say, again a bit sheepishly. He pauses, considers then nods. “You’re right. It is a little funny.”) And we go back to shooting.

 

When we’re done with the BB gun, I expect the lesson to be over. The hub looks around, makes sure there’s no one in the area and reaches back into the waistband of his jeans. “While we’re here…” he says and takes out his pistol. I frown. “Is this where you kill me?” He points to a target twenty feet away. “I want you to practice with this. Aim for the inner circle.” I give him my I-don’t-like-handguns face. I don’t. I really, really don’t. It took me a while to reconcile myself with the fact that we keep weapons in our home. However, I married a man who was introduced to guns at a very young age and who was raised a hunter and not likely to change. He understands the responsibilities that go hand-in-hand with gun ownership. He keeps all his guns locked up tight and up high away from little hands. When he comes home at night, I hear the comforting clicking sound which means he’s double- and triple-checking that there’s nothing chambered. (Another comfort? Knowing that if we’re ever in a bank or a store or anywhere else in public with our children and there’s a gunman at large, the steadfast and levelheaded man next to me has a conceal-and-carry and won’t hesitate to defend their lives.)

Back in the woods, he sees my hesitation and he reminds me of several break-ins in our neighborhood through the years, most of which took place during the day. He also mentions the break-in at my other grandmother’s house months before while she was away from home. I think of the scene in the latter half of the book that I'm dreading writing during which the heroine's life in endangered by her abusive ex-husband. More so, I think of our babies and the frightening world we live in and I take the pistol. I get another lesson in gun safety. “Red is dead,” he tells me. “Wait,” I say. “Red means the gun is dead or the person you’re aiming at is dead?” “The person,” he tells me, making sure that gets across. I digest that tidbit before the hub teaches me how to load the clip and how to check to see whether or not there is a bullet in the chamber. He stands behind me as I face the target. There’s much more of a kick to the pistol than the BB gun so he stands behind me and fixes both my hands in place over the gun. I’m shaking like a leaf by this point so he holds my arms steady as he counts off and I squeeze the trigger. Despite his front braced against my back and his arms locked on mine, I still shriek like a girl and jerk at the report, so much so that the empty shell pings back and hits me in the nose as it is ejected from the gun. The hub curses and says, “Should’ve brought safety glasses.” “You’re damn right,” I say, shaken up a good bit more. The gun feels heavy in my hand, a foreign object I sense that I have no business touching. It occurs to me more than ever that my dislike and fear of guns stems mostly from the fact that I know nothing about them or how to handle them. So I listened carefully as he walked me through it again. By the time we are done and I watch the hub put the now unloaded pistol back into the waistband of his jeans, I’m still not comfortable with the weapon. I believe firmly that it’s never safe to be too comfortable with firearms. But I now know enough to use one in the event that I ever have to. As we walked out of the woods, I tell him how much I hate that our children live in a world in which we have to learn to use weapons to protect ourselves. Knowing how much that keeps me up at night, the hub puts his arm around me and assures me, “You’ll probably never have to.” I say, “Even if I don’t, all this will be great book fodder one day.” He laughs and says, “That’s my girl.” (I encourage everybody to learn about gun safety or to take a gun safety course, especially those with access to firearms. You can never be too careful.)

A few days later, the hub gets peppered with more research questions. He’s out in the garage changing the brakes on the truck. Our son is sitting next to him on the concrete floor, rearranging the shiny, silver pieces in the hub’s master socket set. I pick up one of the tools spread across the floor around them and ask, “What’s this doohickey?” He glances up and answers, “Torque wrench.” I pick up another tool and ask, “And this one?” He looks at me like I should know this one. “A crescent wrench,” he says. “Hm,” I reply and glance over the tools again. “Would you say you need all these to work on car engines, too?” “This is about your book, isn’t it?” “Yes,” I say. I explain that the hero is a skilled automotive mechanic. “Why do you ask?” I ask him. He reminds of that time he was working on his brother’s truck early in our relationship and he tried to walk me through basic engine mechanics. “Oh,” I say, remembering that interlude well. Even after the thorough lesson, I failed to understand how an engine works. I still have only a rudimentary knowledge of engine parts. Battery. Starter. Spark plugs. That’s about it. It’s really fortunate that I married such a know-it-all who can tell me these things (and fix them if needed). The hub smiles and says, “If you’re interested in tools or engines, that usually means you’re up to something.” “Guilty,” I say with a grin.

 

In the "Dear Reader" letter at the beginning of His Rebel Heart, I couldn’t help but note my husband’s influence on this book in particular. It just so happened that over the course of writing the story that the hero slowly evolved into somebody tall with a beard and at one point (probably one of my favorite scenes of the book) with a tool belt slung low around his hips, much like the man I’m married to. (Sh! The name James might come from the hub's middle name, too.) I owe a good chunk of the character of James to him, just as I owe the opening scene of the book to my grandmother. Hopefully neither will mind finding small reincarnations of themselves in the book when they read it.

Just for you, Roses, I'm revealing the first excerpt of His Rebel Heart here on the blog today. I hope you enjoy! You can preorder your copy of the book for just $3.99 at Harlequin, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo today....

 

"I don't want you to be alone..." 

 

Adrian sighed. "James, I have been alone, for a really long time." 

 

"I'm sorry," he said. "Adrian...I am so, so sorry." 

 

When he drew her into his arms, she was helpless to stop him. She felt his lips come to rest on the top of her head. His arms wrapped around her back, closing her in, tightening. 

 

He simply held her, for what seemed like ages. 

 

A small eternity passed in the space of moments. Memories stirred, whispering to life, ghosts of what had been.  

 

When his lips touched hers, it felt so natural. The simple press of his lips brought her back to life. Her heart fluttered, lifting and soaring.

 

She should have pushed him away. After everything, she should shove him back, make him leave. Instead, she let the moment stretch, deepen until she felt him brush up against the soul she'd buried from everything and everyone...

Soooo Ready to Fall Into Winter by Alicia Dean

Yes, I love winter. I know, I know, people think I’m crazy, and perhaps they’re correct. (For many reasons, not just because I love winter :)) I love the cold and the snow. One of my favorite things is to be snowed in, as long as I have power, food, and wine (not necessarily in that order).

I don’t like it when my kids are out on the roads. I worry about them, and I don’t like it when people are harmed or lose power. However, sometimes, snow storms are unfairly given a bad rap. For example, this morning, I signed onto my computer (that’s the only way I get the news. I never watch it on tv or read a paper anymore) to see this headline:

Death Toll Climbs in Massive New York Snowstorm

As it turns out, this headline was a bit misleading. When I looked at the article, I discovered the death toll was 4. (That’s not so much of a climb as it is a tiny step). And, one died from an accident (accidents happen even in the best of weather). Three died from heart attacks while shoveling snow. Not to minimize the sadness of those deaths, but you ask me, to blame the ‘climbing death toll’ on the weather is stretching it just a little.

I live in Oklahoma, where we seldom get really ‘bad’ snowstorms, at least not more than one a season or so. Maybe I would change my mind if I lived in Buffalo, New York or Minnesota, Wisconsin, some of those places that really get hit with winter weather. Honestly, I don’t think I would. I really hate summer, hate sunlight and hot weather. I think I should have been a vampire.

Speaking of vampires, it’s kind of ironic that, as much as I love cold weather, when I finally wrote a vampire book, I set it on a tropical island. I was looking for a unique twist on the vampire stories, and I thought, vampires on a sunny, beautiful tropical island is definitely different.

Book 1 in my Isle of Fang Series, Liberty Awakened, is currently on sale for 99¢…(click on the cover to be taken to the Amazon page)

Liberty Delacort doesn't believe in Vampires. Then she meets the father she never knew, just before his death, and learns she's the last of the Van Helsing bloodline. 

Eli, a 300 year old Vampire, doesn't believe Liberty has what it takes to stand between the humans and the Evil Ones on Sang Croc Island, and orders her back to the mainland. 

Ryan, a friend of Liberty's late-father, disagrees and insists that Eli provide the promised training. 

Now the Full Moon has come and Liberty must stand in the gap. But unbeknownst to her--she's fallen for the wrong vampire. 

REVIEWS: 
"An adventure where vampires rule. Liberty is delightful [and] we get a hero and anti-hero. It's tough to choose between the two." ~ Reads and Reviews 

THE ISLE OF FANGS SERIES, in order 

Liberty Awakened 
Liberty Divided 

Snippet:

Liberty braced her hands on the door, intending to step back. Before she could, Eli lifted his head and whipped it toward her. He couldn’t have heard her, could he? She’d barely made a sound. Maybe he just sensed—

Her thoughts ceased when she took a closer look at Eli’s face. He stood in place, breathing heavily. She narrowed her eyes. God. No.  His features were somehow distorted, his skin had a gray cast and looked…crumpled. His eyes glowed red. Something dark and liquid—blood?—was smeared around his mouth, dripped off his…fangs?  

“No!” She let out the cry before she could stop herself, then clamped a hand over her mouth.

Backing from the door, she shook her head violently from side to side. It couldn’t be. No way. She had to have imagined it.  A sound at the door told her Eli was coming out.

She turned and fled. Her tennis shoes slapped the ground, the noise reverberating in her ears along with the word—vampire…vampire…vampire. Oh my God. Vampire… Bats… Drained…

Sometimes, you have to make things fall into place by Alicia Dean

Don’t you just love it when things fall into place? You know, when plans fall into place, a job falls into place, kids fall into place, and especially when a manuscript falls into place.

As all writers know, some books are a struggle, some go rather smoothly (although I have never been lucky enough to have a book ‘write itself’). My upcoming release, Without Mercy, did NOT fall into place. As a matter of fact, I had to grab it, wrestle it down, beat it into submission, and SHOVE it, kicking and screaming, into place.

I started writing WM in 2009. I liked the idea, and the first half a dozen chapters came fairly easily. Then, I hit a wall. Hard. My characters were in a BIG PICKLE, and I didn’t know how to get them out of it. Over the years, I would pick it back up and write a little here and there, but I never progressed very far, and definitely not very quickly.

A few months ago, I picked it up again. This time, I was determined to finish it. Come hell or high water, bald spots and all. Even if it meant doubling up on the anti-anxiety meds.

Again, I struggled, but this time, I powered my way through, with a bit of brainstorming help from my CP’s. My writing style has changed some since 2009, so I had to ‘fix’ quite a few problem areas. Oh, and also, at one point during the recent rewriting, my flash drive became corrupted, and I lost all the progress I’d made. So that was awesome. (NOT) But, again, I powered through. Now, I am pleased to say, the book is finished and currently with a proofreader. (After a lot of help from wonderful beta readers, among them, Diane Burton, and with help from my critique partners, who always have my back.)

Yes, finally, it ‘fell into place.’ J

Is there a manuscript or project that has given you fits like this? Did you conquer it? Give up on it? Or is the jury still out on that one?

Below is a blurb and excerpt from Without Mercy. I hope at least some readers feel it was worth the trouble.

Available September 26, 2014 - Pre-order for an introductory price of only 99¢:

Click here to Pre-order for Kindle

Blurb:

How far will a mother go to protect her child?

When an apparently random bank robbery turns out to be a sinister plan, single mother China Beckett is thrust into a nightmare.  

A group of mercenaries take over her life, threatening her young daughter and everyone they love. Each time China makes a mistake, someone dies. She’ll fight to the last breath to protect her child, but with no idea what move will be the wrong one, that might not be enough.  

As the lives of China’s loved ones are jeopardized, she must take action, although she has no idea where to turn—and time is running out. But then, a startling truth is revealed and China discovers that the only person who can save them might be a ghost from the past.

Excerpt:

The shrill alarm pierced the morning, jerking China from a dream about Aiden. He’d shown up at her door, dark eyes smiling. In his thick Irish brogue, he’d said, “No more worries, lass. I’m here now.” Relief and love filled her heart. She’d thrown her arms around his neck, clung to him tightly—she could almost feel his warm, strong body—and whispered, “Come meet your daughter…”

She’d been cocooned in sweet, safe warmth. Maybe if she stayed in bed and lay very still, the dream wouldn't leave.

It didn’t work. The illusion fled, and there was nothing left but to face reality. Annoyed and exhausted from another restless night, she stumbled from bed and down the stairs.

Gunnar was sitting at the kitchen table.

“Today is your first instruction,” he said.

“Oh, goody.” Did Gunnar recognize good ole American sarcasm? She jerked a mug from the cupboard and sloshed strong, hot coffee in it.

“You must find out which day the Norman, Oklahoma branch will have the most money on hand.”

Ice surrounded her heart. “You’re going to rob another bank?”

“I did not rob a bank.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. He was like some kind of robot, processing information in the most literal sense.

“Your gang is going to rob another bank?”

“It is not for you to ask questions. Only to follow instructions.”

Dread welled in her chest as she took a gulp of the hot brew. She couldn’t be a part of this. Couldn’t aid in another robbery. Another murder. She shook her head. “I can’t. I just…can’t.”

“You dare to refuse? Do you think we are playing?”

She remembered the web cam feed. The image of the couple she’d sentenced to death. “I know you’re not playing.”

“The deaths that have taken place so far have been those you are not particularly close to, true?”

She nodded.

“They will rob the bank no matter what. They wish to have information that will gain the most profit. If you do not get this for them, the next victim will be quite different from a boss you were not fond of. You are very close to your aunt, am I right?”

Fear moved through her, tingling along her scalp. “You won't... Please don't hurt Lucy.”

“Perhaps she will not feel much pain. Perhaps she will. I cannot make any promises about that. But I can promise you that she will die.” 

How The Martini Club 4 Was Born by Alicia Dean

I am posting off topic this month, because absolutely nothing about the theme occured to me that hadn't already been done, and because, I want to share something really fun!

A few years back, my writer friends/critique partners began meeting every Friday at the Boulevard Martini Lounge in Edmond, Oklahoma, for cocktails and de-stressing. We came to call it The Martini Club, and we eventually had the idea to write a series of novellas with a Martini Lounge type establishment as a recurring theme. Our first venture, set in 1924 New York, is in the works. We are having a blast with the project and have held a few weekend getaways to plot and write. (Not only are these sojourns productive, they are FUN! Being good friends certainly helps make the process more enjoyable. However, I do have a confession. Oftentimes, rather than martinis, these weekends involve wine. Lots of wine…) Our final retreat is scheduled in mid-September, and we plan to have the books released this fall. The four stories feature a group of young women who meet on a ship sailing from England to America.

This is us at The Martini Club: Left to right, Krysta Scott, Amanda McCabe, Kathy L. Wheeler, and me (Alicia Dean)

 

Keep reading to learn more about the Martini Club 4 series…

(A few of these are ‘working titles’ and we only have two of the four covers thus far)

 

Wayward: Martini Club 4 – The Twenties by Alicia Dean

Eliza Gilbert flees England after her employer attempts to force himself upon her. She vowed to her dying mum she would be no man’s doxy, and she intends to keep that vow. But life in New York isn’t as promising as she’d hoped, and now she finds herself in a situation more dire than the one she fled.

Former boxer Vincent Taggart wants a quiet life where he can settle down with a nice girl and run his boxing gym. But when his childhood sweetheart disappears, he travels to New York in search of her. He meets Eliza, a woman with a less than honorable reputation, and he is drawn to her like no other female he’s ever known. He can’t stay away from her, especially when he learns she may be the key to unlocking the sordid mystery surrounding the missing girl.

******************************************************

 

Rebellious: : Martini Club 4 – The Twenties by Kathy L. Wheeler

Lady Margaret Montley, needs money, and lots of it. While her singing career is on the brink of catapulting her into stardom it’s not soon enough. And bootlegging is just the answer. With the aid of a make-up artist friend she dons the persona of a young man and jumps in feet first.

Harry Dempsey, undercover investigator, is out to stop the bastard rumrunners--illegal moonshine has cost him everything he loves. When Lady Margaret shows up on the night of a dangerous sting operation, he not only has to save her from the crime lord that killed his father and brother, but from her own reckless behavior.

Bio:

Kathy L Wheeler (aka Kae Elle Wheeler) writes contemporary and historical romance. She has a BA in Management Information Systems from the University of Central Oklahoma that includes over forty credit hours of vocal music. As a computer programmer the past fifteen years, she utilizes karaoke for her vocal music talents. Other passions include fantasy football, NBA, travel and musical theatre.

She is a member of several RWA Chapters, including DARA, The Beau Monde and OKRWA chapters. Her main sources of inspiration come from mostly an over-active imagination. She currently resides in Edmond, Oklahoma with her musically talented husband, Al, and their bossy cat, Carly. Visit her at http://kathylwheeler.com

******************************************************

 

Adrift: Martini Club 4 – The Twenties by Krysta Scott

After escaping an arranged marriage, Charli Daniels lands on a new shore. But things go from bad to worse when her fiancé follows her to New York. Now, instead of realizing her dream of opening her own bakery, she finds herself in a fight for her freedom.

Haunted by a string of failures, Detective Felix Noble is determined to solve his latest case. But his effort to find a murderer is jeopardized by a forbidden attraction to his number one suspect.

When a new threat surfaces, Felix wonders if he is once again on the wrong track. Can Charli convince him of her innocence before more than her dreams are destroyed?

Bio:

Krysta Scott is a family law attorney in her false life. After years of writing and winning contests, she is now taking the plunge into publishing. A fan of sci-fi and dark stories about people in crisis, she also enjoys the television shows Vampire Diaries, Breaking Bad, and Sherlock. As a result of much coaxing by her friends, she decided to write a 20’s romantic suspense as her breakout story.

******************************************************

Fearless: Martini Club 4 – The Twenties by Amanda McCabe

Lady Jessica Hatton fled her high-society London life for one of investigative journalism in New York--only to be relegated to the fashion pages.  Searching for a juicy story leads her to The Bungalow, the city's most glamorous speakeasy--and its handsome, mysterious owner, Frank Markov.  But his past puts their hearts--and their lives--in danger...

Bio:

Amanda McCabe is the RITA-nominated author of almost 100 historical romances.  She's loved the 1920s since learning a version of the Charleston for a 5th grade dance recital, and watching 'Downton Abbey' too many times has only made the addiction worse!  Visit her at http://ammandamccabe.com