What I Know So Far by Alison Henderson

I'm at that most wonderful/horrible point in the writing process--plotting and planning the first book in a new series. Possibilities abound. Yikes! Possibilities abound!! 

Who are these people, and what will they get up to? Those are the questions. My head is spinning. I've got a fun crescendo of events lined up for the first half of the book, and I know the exciting conclusion, but ugh, that third quarter. At the moment, it's a black hole. And I'd like to figure most of it out during the next two weeks because, while I don't do NaNoWriMo, I do belong to a wonderful group of supportive authors who promise to urge each other on during the month of November. Since OG and I are currently in Chicago working on PO&O's new condo AGAIN, I don't have much thinking time.

Here's what I know so far:

• The series will be set in and around Monterey County, from Big Sur to Monterey, and feature three artist sisters--a kinetic sculptor, a raku potter, and a glass blower.
• I know all the titles and the characters' names. Yay! This is critical for me. I can't seem to start a book until I've decided on these things.
• The heroine of the first book flees her controlling, and probably criminal, fiance and comes home to Big Sur. She takes a day job in an art gallery in Carmel.
• The hero of the first book is a Minnesota-farm-boy-turned-forensic-accountant for the FBI who looks like Chris Pratt. 
• The rotten fiance come to Carmel, where he is murdered by an agent of the Russian mob, who then comes after the heroine.
• The owner of the art gallery and his antique-dealer partner are mixed up in money laundering and meth dealing as a result of their gambling-related debts to the Russian mob.
• There will be a variety of minor but hilarious incidents straight from the Pine Cone police log.

Beyond all that, who knows? LOL

Alison

https://www.alisonhenderson.com

A Halloween Treat #2 by Christine DePetrillo

I hope you've still been good, people. If you have, Halloween treat #2 is Abra Cadaver, a paranormal romance novella.

Blurb:
Holly Brimmer never expected to be brought back from the dead. After a fatal car crash, a mysterious stranger gives her a second chance at life—but it comes with a price. To stay alive she must pay it forward, accomplish an important deed, thus making her mark in the world. Until she does, her savior is bound to her. Now she has a backyard full of dead bodies and one unwanted houseguest.

Keane Malson kills bad guys to keep the innocent alive, but he’s still a monster. Cursed by a witch moments before an honorable death on the battlefield, he’s lived thousands of years, roaming from place to place with no end in sight. It’s a lonely life…until he meets Holly.

When a wanted man targets Holly, Keane will do anything to protect her, even if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Excerpt:
Holly Brimmer stared at the dead body resting in the grass in her backyard. She knew it wasn’t truly human, but shit, it sure looked like a real person. This one was actually good-looking. His rusty brown hair was only slightly matted with dried, greenish blood. 

Must not have put up too much of a struggle. 

His skin wasn’t that post-life purplish color yet either. He still appeared fresh, as if he might pop open his eyes and say, “Just kidding! I’m not dead.” 

But that wasn’t going to happen. 

This fellow had definitely taken his last twirl on the carousel of life. She inhaled the summer-heated air and exhaled slowly. How did I end up here? 

“I don’t know why you insist on burying them, Holly. Demons only last eighteen hours after death, and I like to burn the bodies before then anyway.” 

The mere sound of his voice tensed every muscle in her already stress-beaten body. If she could take back one horrible decision, Keane Malson would be it. 

Keane leaned on the threshold of the back porch door. If he stood up straight, his head nearly hit the top. For a man of his size, he moved like a butterfly—absolutely no sound whatsoever. The snake tattoo circling his left bicep twitched as he folded his arms across his chest. Holly loved snakes, but that one slithering in black ink across his pale flesh confused her. She wanted to stay away from it and inspect it more closely at the same time. 

Stay away from it, Holly. Snakes bite and Keane probably does, too.

Pick up Abra Cadaver today and see how sexy monsters can be! 

Happy Halloween, Pumpkins!

Toodles,
Chris
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com 

New book alert!

My Robin Hood book is out and ready for your reading pleasure.

It's my second book this year (Flyer came out in February). This book is about Tucker Frye, a female pub co-owner with Alan Dale. Tuck is transplanted Southerner and occasionally her accent (and some of her expressions) make an appearance. One of my favorites is this one:

"Sorry, Tucker. I didn't mean to hit you." Guy pushed himself up from the mulch, standing cautiously until he got his balance. "I was aiming for Rob." He brushed wood chips off his shirt and pants, frowning at the smudges.

I shot him a hate-filled glare. "If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I'd fart." As usual, when I was under stress, my Southern accent kicked in.

Alan made a snorting laugh noise. "Good one, Tuck."

I did quite a bit of research into factory farming for this book and it just reinforced my desire to always "buy local" whenever I could. I grew up in farm country, amongst family farmers, but what is done in some of those 'facilities' is enough to make you go vegan. The whole inhumane factory farming industry comes under scrutiny in this book because Tuck's nephew, who's undercover at one of the places, is murdered, and she gets sucked into the investigation.

So join Guy Gibson, Rob Huntington, John Smalley, Alan Dale, Tuck and the rest of the cast of characters in Woulds.

J L Wilson

(jayellwilson.com)

What I Learned at Midnight and Magnolias Writers' Conference.

Vonnie Davis

I'm almost back in the groove from my trip to Atlanta for the Midnight and Magnolias Conference. I spent my first day home holding my spoiled Shih Tzu Evie because she didn't seem content unless we were touching. Oh boy, can she give a pitiful whine. The second day was laundry and holding Evie. Day three, today as I write this, means grocery shopping and a little cleaning

Jam packed into all the holding and spoiling and crooning and holding was a lot of writing and editing--and self-analysis about where I want to go from here with my writing.

Warning: Rambling thoughts ahead!

At 70, I still can't decide what I want to do when I grow up. Am I going to lay aside what is "supposed" to sell and simply write what I want? Boy, would I like to write a political thriller. Yes, the pantser who loves writing comedy and steamy sexual tension would also like to pen a complicated, well-plotted, fast paced thriller.

Who-da-thought?

And who would read it because I'd have to use a different name so the romance readers wouldn't buy it in error. Maybe I'll write it just for me. You know, to get it out of my system.

Before I ramble too much about feeling lost and wondering what to do next, let me share what I learned at Midnight and Magnolias.

• 175 romance authors can make a lot of noise. Kind of like a swarm of bees on chocolate and steroids.
• The Georgia Romance Writers certainly know how to be well-organized. They even had an app listing what was happening next and who was there. One could message another attendee. "Martha, I'm so glad you're here. Meet me in the main hallway so we can catch-up" I had two other ladies contact me like that. I'd never have known they were there without the app.
• Serve women sandwich wraps, a bag of chips, and a cookie for lunch and they will bitch like nobody's business. I was shocked.
• If you sign up for professional head shots, be prepared for most anything. Or maybe it was just me as the subject matter. I watched the author scheduled before my shoot pose in front of a backdrop. Me? I was escorted out of the room to the end of the bar to have half of my pictures taken and then taken into the ladies restroom (I kid you not!) for the other shots. She claimed the lighting was better in there. I found it hard to smile with all the added "sound effects." And I kept thinking I'd paid $90 for this unique experience. I'll share the best of the pictures when I get them.
• Pitching to potential agents wasn't as bad as I thought. Yes, I almost cancelled my appointments because I'm not sure I want an agent. My writing schedule is fairly relaxed right now. Do I want to step back into the stress of deadlines, editor demands, and early morning writing sessions? I honestly don't know. Figuring I had nothing to prove, I sashayed into the "pitching room," sat down with an agent from Seymour Agency and said, "I'm a pitching virgin so be gentle with me and take your time." She nearly fell out of her chair laughing. Then asked for a query stating my publishing history, a synopsis of the unfinished book, and the first fifty pages. The next agent wants the same and the third asked for a full.
• Christian publishers are hot for Romantic Suspense. Could I write for that market one of the agents asked. Sure, under a different name. I wouldn't want a little old church lady to grab a copy of my erotic "Mr OH" by mistake.
• For grins and giggles I pitched to a Harlequin editor knowing I was not a category writer. She was so intrigued, she said she'd refer me to their other branch Graydon House. A select hardcover and trade paperback imprint dedicated to publishing book club worthy women's fiction. I'd need an agent to submit. But I could send HER the full for her to read and recommend if she liked it.
• And there's no sight better than 175 romance writers OD'd on sugary desserts and wine dancing with abandon to "It's Raining Men...Hallelujah."
• I need to attend more writing conferences. I took workshops in the criminal mind led by the supervising crime scene investigator of Atlanta; the world of an EMT and paramedic with a twenty pus year veteran of the job; how a K-nine unit works with a darling German Shepherd who showed us his sniffing talents; there's more to military heroes than SEALs presented by the wife of a submarine captain; how to keep the sexual tension going after the deed is done; the rise in sales of the audio book; and self-editing tips.

Vonnie Davis writes sizzling romance with an edge. 

Visit her at www.vonniedavis.com

Releasing in November, a novella as part of the "That Old Black Magic" series with other paranormal authors.

So Tell Me, Rose Buds...What Do You Think? by Margo Hoornstra

Hi There Fellow Rose...Buds and Important Others,

With a new title coming out the end of this month, October 29 to be exact, it's promo time for me. As part of my getting the word out plan, and at Jannine's suggestion, I've secured a spot at Just Romantic Suspense, November 7-8. This is what I'm sending in. Tell me what you think.

"Nothing is working for me anymore. I quit."

Flouncing into the living room from my home office down the hall, I plopped on the couch, arms crossed over my chest in true body language style, to protect myself and shut down any argument.

Across the room in his favorite recliner, my husband glanced up. "You know you don't mean that."

Obviously, he hadn't received the body language interpretation memo.

"This time I do." I held myself tighter.

He didn't seem to notice. "Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"Okay, I'll bite. Why?"

"Nothing's working." I hate when I have to repeat myself with him. "My contemporary romance series about women millionaires is going nowhere. I'm not excited about it."

For the next few moments he sat there, quietly letting me fume. Then... "How about this? I see a woman in her apartment, alone and confused. She's just lost her job and doesn't know what to do next. Enter an undercover cop who needs to run surveillance on a resident across the street, and her place is the perfect vantage point."

That was all I needed to hear...

What had started as a short story about an old, abandoned colonial house was morphing into a full length romantic suspense novel with a cop turned bounty hunter hero and an unsuspecting and wrongly accused ex-con out on probation. My hero had a friend and colleague still on the force, who helped him out now and then with 'inside' information.

Fleshing that one out, eventually titled ON THE SURFACE I got the idea for a Brothers In Blue series, four heroes who met at the police academy to become life long friends.

From there, I went on to the suggested unemployed heroine and undercover cop and eventually, ON THE FORCE was born.

Here's a sneak peek.

Losing her job and reputation is nothing compared to the prospect of losing her life

Top notch CFO Sydney Raines is devastated when her coveted job working for a high profile conglomerate is yanked out from under her. Determined to restore a mangled reputation, she finds her second chance when the owner of an upscale art gallery hires her as his personal assistant.

Straight arrow cop Vince Miller is assigned to crack an international art theft ring. Working undercover, he never counted on meeting Sydney Raines, let alone falling in love with her.

Then an unexpected twist in the case reveals the identity of a serial killer, along with the shattering realization that Sydney could be the psycho’s next victim.

*******

“It would have compromised the assignment.”

After she finished the sentence for him, he nodded. “Exactly. The feds were involved. I couldn’t do anything but keep quiet. Those guys don’t take kindly to having civilians interfere in their operations.” 

“Interfere? Really?” Her tone deepened to one of disbelief. “And after the feds left the case?”

He took a moment to swallow. “We…you and I…never seemed to have the time.”

“That is so lame, Vince. In all the alone time we did spend together the past couple of weeks.” A fast breath huffed out of her. “You couldn’t take five minutes?”

“Five minutes wasn’t going to cut it. We’ve been at this a lot longer right now, and nothing’s been resolved.”

“You couldn’t even try?” Tears moved up to tinge her voice. Even as she clamped her mouth shut, her chin continued to tremble.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to. Didn’t think about it a lot.” He lifted an arm toward her then, thinking better of it, let it drop. “You were always so busy with your new job.”

“Seriously? You not being able to tell me the truth was my fault?”

“No. Of course not. I’m not saying that at all.” Pressing his lips tight, he again broke eye contact. “It’s no one’s fault you had responsibilities. Out of town business. The reception Curan had you put on.”

“You could have been honest with me. Not used me the way you did.”

“I never used you.” He pulled in a breath as he looked up at her. “It was my job, Sydney. I was just doing my job as I’d been instructed.”

“Certainly you were. You’re not a magazine reporter, you’re a cop. One who was working undercover to bring a man to justice who, by your own admission, never did anything wrong in the first place.” With both hands at her sides, she drew them into fists she relaxed, then clenched tight again.

Vince lifted his chin, half expecting her to clock him with a well‑aimed right hook. “That’s not exactly how it is.”

ON THE FORCE is Book 2 in the Brothers In Blue series.

It joins ON THE SURFACE Brothers In Blue Book 1, which will be my Reader's Choice giveaway. Both books are published through THE WILD ROSE PRESS

So what do you think? How'd I do? Too much? Too little? Or just about right?

My days to blog here are the 11th and 23rd. For more about me and the stories I write, please visit my WEBSITE

I've Got the Blues by Brenda Whiteside

Do you ever get the blues? I’ve got the blues. It’s been coming on for several weeks, and the signs have been there. Ignored. Fought. But I finally succumbed.

My mom used to talk about getting the blues. I read a letter from her mother written in 1927 or 1928,

and she had the blues. The blues isn’t a female thing. There’s a whole music genre dedicated to the state of mind. But it seems to me there are different kinds of blues.

On the left, grandmother I never knew

My mom’s blues, and apparently the grandmother I never knew, had more to do with boredom, being poor, and lack of time spent with a spouse. My mom’s woeful state of emotion felt totally female.

Oh she may get weary,

Women do get weary,

Wearing the same shabby dress.

When she gets weary,

Try a little tenderness.

My state of mind has much to do with the state of our country. There are personal things that have added to the depression, but none of them are particularly bad. There is uncertainty and a state of wait and see, but I know those will all work out for the best. The waiting can be stressful. But mostly, I think I’ve allowed things I have no control over to control me.

What to do?

Let it go...for now

First, I’m tuning out. This is not my normal way to handle anything. But if I don’t tune out the negative, the constant assault of a crazy world, I’m the one who will be crazy. So, I’m giving myself a free pass for three weeks to stop worrying about the state of the world. Stop worrying about humanity. I’ve told FDW he cannot keep me informed. I need to re-center, and if he is always cluing me in on the ugliness, I’ll go stark raving mad.

Second, I’m owning who I am and how I feel and how I believe. While I’m working to get back my mojo and my happy attitude, if someone does come at me or comment to me something I feel is wrong or ugly, I’m giving it back. No more Ms. Nice. I might be tuning out, but if my efforts fall short and you get in my face, be prepared to be put in your place.

And third, I’m diving into my current novel with renewed vigor. These characters are fun. The story is complicated. They need my full attention, and they will reciprocate. I feel good when we communicate. And right now, I need to feel good.

So, as I asked to start this, do you get the blues? I’d love to hear how you beat it. What do you do to get rid of the blues?

Brenda and her husband are gypsies at heart having lived in six states and two countries. Currently, they split their time between the Lake Roosevelt basin in Central Arizona and the pines in the north. Wherever Brenda opens her laptop, she spends most of her time writing stories of discovery and love entangled with suspense.

Visit Brenda at https://www.brendawhiteside.com

Or on FaceBook: https://www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/brendawhitesid2

She blogs on the 9^th and 24^th of every month: http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

She blogs about life’s latest adventure and has fun guests on her personal blog: https://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003V15WF8

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3972045.Brenda_Whiteside

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/brenda-whiteside

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/brendawhitesideauthor/

The Woe of a Woman Traveler—and Writer By Andrea Downing

I’ve had several road trips and other vacations with my darling daughter and one thing we’ve found along the way is that women travelers are not treated particularly well.  On one road trip we were increasingly upset by the fact we seemed to be invisible, as if some magic spell had been cast on us.  Servers ignored us constantly and things came to a head in Santa Fe, NM.  We had a reservation at what was supposedly an excellent restaurant with good reviews; it sounded particularly interesting because an art gallery was attached and I love looking at paintings—and, on occasion, buying them.  When we got to the restaurant we were told our table wasn’t quite ready and maybe we would like to walk around the gallery.  I could see almost immediately that the art there wasn’t our thing.  The gallery was arranged so that you walked through from one end back to the reception desk.  At that point, I was asked if there was anything I was interested in purchasing.  My negative reply, as sweetly put as it was, was greeted with disgruntlement, and we were shown to our table…and there we sat.  Dinner took over two hours, we closed the place down, and were completely ignored on departure despite the fact staff were gathered in the entry. Somehow we doubted that treatment would have been applied to men.

 This episode brought things to a head for us.  Nursing our aggravation, we put our woes to the female bartender at our hotel. ‘It’s because they think you won’t tip well,’ she informed us. ‘Women on their own don’t tip as well as men.’ Okkkk, but in actual fact, despite the lousy service I foolishly left a good tip.  Won’t do that again!  I’ve learned my lesson. But then, you see, it becomes self-perpetuating.  They think women are lousy tippers, give bad service and….  You get my point.

  Now my daughter is married and I venture off, on occasion, alone. Since I’m that much older, I seem to get help more often and even have the odd waiter (odd indeed) flirting with me—maybe in search of that better tip.  But I’ve also come across a new problem of the solitary woman traveler.  Last week I had to sleep with the lights on as mice ran around my lovely national park cabin.  I saw at least two, high speed little critters they were.  I figure a man would most likely have just gone back to sleep.

The difference between men and women has been playing out in the news as never before, but as romance writers we’re faced with it even as our fingers hit the keyboard.  While I’d like to think men were reading romance in numbers equal to women, it’s doubtful.  And then there’s even a genre called ‘Women’s Lit.’  I don’t see one called ‘Men’s Lit.’  Mysteries and thrillers? Westerns?  All right, I get it. Shelving in bookstores or divisions in the internet stores.  

What would we call Women’s Lit. if we took the woman out of it? and why should servers think women are lousy tippers?

As I leave these questions float out in the ether of cyberspace, let me also bring your attention to the  paranormal of From the Files of Nat Tremayne:  Two Tales of Hauntings in the Old West. If you’re looking forward to Halloween as I am, float on over to https://www.amazon.com/Files-Nat-Tremayne-Tales-Hauntings-ebook/dp/B0767HWT6S/ for a spooky read.

The Wild West gets even wilder when Nat Tremayne sends out his agents from Psychic Specters Investigations offices in St. Louis and Denver. Across country and across time, these agents will stop at nothing to unravel the mysteries that beset poor unsuspecting ranchers and cowboys who have no idea what they’re seeing . . .or not, as the case may be.
In The Ghost and The Bridegroom, P.S.I. Agent Healy Harrison is sent to Tucson to rid a rancher of the ghost in the bedroom interfering in his marriage to a mail-order bride. Healy doesn’t think she’s destined for romance—until she meets Pinkerton detective Aaron Turrell. But when their two cases dovetail, will their newfound love survive the ultimate showdown the between mortal and immortal.
In Long A Ghost and Far Away, agent Dudley Worksop aims to unravel the mystery of Colby Gates’ dead wife. Lizzie not only seems to have reappeared as a ghost, but has time traveled from 2016 to the 1800s. Can revenge be had for her murder? And can the couple be reunited across country and across time?