Daily Spotlight with Krystal Shannan

I’m so excited to be a part of this hop! There are so many new and exciting authors to get to meet. I’m glad you stopped by to say hi to me today. I’m just an average gal with a very overactive imagination.

I’ve always been fascinated by myth and legend. At the top of my list for fun additional reading in high school, was anything I could get my hands on about the Greek gods and stories. Of course it didn’t stop in high school and I’ve branched out from Greek myths, but they are still my favorite.

It was no surprise to me when the character for Aphrodite popped into my head and began whispering stories in my ear. Pool of Souls was born and Open House is the first in the series.

Pool of Souls Series revolves around the Titan version of Aphrodite and her rocky relationships with the other gods on Mt. Olympus. Ares, the god of war, is poised as her love interest and their story will unfold throughout the series. Each book focuses on a pair of human souls Aphrodite is trying to help form a bond. So the books flip back and forth between the two plot lines.

Open House: Pool of Souls Book 1 is already released and the next book in the Pool of Souls saga will release in a couple of months. I hope you will love Aphrodite and Ares as much as I do. Here’s a sneak peek….

 

“Ditee, what brings you to my doorstep?” Ares rose from his seat on a large chaise lounge. He set the laptop on the cushion where he’d been relaxing. His gaze swept over her figure with obvious lust. She ignored his heated stare and didn’t slow her stride for a second. His eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth curved upward into a smile. He was hers.

She stopped a mere three feet from him and looked up. His six-foot, six-inch frame would have been intimidating for most, but Aphrodite knew her power and used it to her advantage. The pheromones wafting from her skin would have turned the meanest ogre on the Olympus plane into a worshiping groupie. Ares’s immortality offered him no defense. She was the daughter of a first generation Titan; even Zeus himself had fallen sway to her charms on more than one occasion. He’d even named one of his daughters after her. The young goddess was shallow and vain, concerned only with physical pleasure and lust.

“Where are Chaos and Strife?”

“Looking for Stephen Ross.” Ares’s eyes glowed red in anger; he’d recognized her pheromones and called up his powers to cleanse them from his system. “Shit, Ditee! That’s not fair.” He growled and sat back down on the chaise. He snapped open his laptop and flashed another angry glare.

“You cretin.” Aphrodite snatched the laptop from his hands. She hurled it angrily against the wall. It smashed into several pieces before falling to the floor. “Call them back.”

“No.”

“Call. Them. Back.”

“No, I told you he was mine.” His smug look of satisfaction fueled her anger.

“No one is yours, Ares, least of all a soul trying to bond with its mate. Your lackeys will be sorry they interfered.”

Ares shrugged and sneered. “It’s too late, Ditee. Pawns have already been put into play, and your pieces will be dropping soon.”

--© Krystal Shannan 2012

Open House: Pool of Souls Book 1

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Just a little about me.... Well, I was born, raised, and currently live in TEXAS. I am married to a wonderful man who supports my dream of writing and allows me to spend many evening and weekend hours glued to my laptop. During the day I moonlight as an elementary music teacher. In addition to a doting husband, a young daughter is also part of the picture and keeps us both hopping! An ornery little Welsh Corgi completes our household. 

Daily Spotlight - Trace Broyles

Excerpt from Estelan:

Prologue

A shadowy figure slipped between the cracking, blistered tree trunks.  Its curses carried forth on the blustering wind forcing woodland creatures to flee.  The flora wilted where It paused to rest.  Ragged breaths caught when a branch cracked. 

 “My Lord, all is not lost.”  A cloaked figure stepped into a beam of moonlight and faced the shadow.  “There are still ways to win.”

The shadow spat, “What is left to win?  This world is worth nothing now, it will die too soon.”

“No, my Lord.  It will not die because of the girl’s sacrifice.  There are survivors and they will seek each other out to rebuild.  The power of the core is vast and will heal itself.  In time we can make it as it was, rejoin the halves, take the orbs for our own and harness the power of the core.”  The cloaked figure reached out to the shadow.  “I beg of you, allow me to move forward with my plan.  You can rest while we wait and when the time is right we shall raise an army to defeat the survivors.”

“Hide from those lesser?  Is that what you would have me do?”  The shadow hissed, its eyes burning red in the dark cloud. 

“No, my Lord, never.  I am but suggesting you rest and watch while I perform the menial tasks to simple for your greatness.”  The cloaked figure bowed respectfully to the shadow.

“A rest.  Yes.  Fair enough, servant.”  The shadow curled into itself until all that remained was a wisp of black smoke.  It rocketed through the air and into the cloaked figure’s hood. 

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Daily Spotlight with Dark Motives Books

"Darkmotive's books and more" is a new book page on Facebook with one main purpose - to help promote authors/books, and we particularly love indie authors.  

We're happy to post about anything book related ~ book releases, cover reveals, giveaways, freebies etc etc.  An open environment where people can post themselves, or send the details in a message.  

Drop by our Facebook page and say hi xoxo        

Our favourite authors read during 2012:  L.M. Smith, Denise Grover Swank, Willow Cross, Diane Haynes, Alexia Purdy, Caragh M. O'Brien, Veronica Roth, Dawn Gray, Aneesa Price, Dianna Hardy, Veronica Blade, Susan Hatler and Stacey Rourke to name a few.  

Daily Spotlight with Jeff LaFerney

I found a poster about there, their, and they’re that I put up on my author page, and I just couldn’t stop laughing about it. It got me thinking about spelling errors from my eighth grade students and things I’ve seen on Facebook, and I even did a little research to come up with a few others for this guest blog. What you will see are some exceptional spelling gaffes, as well as some occasionally sarcastic comments about them (okay, I admit it—I made sarcastic comments for all of them). If you don’t chortle (a word I’ve always wanted to use) at some of these, you’re taking life way too seriously.

1.       “In the movie, Harold looses a thumb in a work accident.” (Luckily, it only became loose because losing it completely would have been a tragedy. It’s loses.)

2.       “It was nice to meat you.” (I can’t get the picture out of my head of this person happily slapping his new acquaintance with a pork chop. It’s meet.)

3.       “I’m eating flaming young.” (This sounds cannibalistic, immoral, and dangerous to me. It’s filet mignon.)

4.       “Wow, I’m hot. I can’t go through mini pulse at nineteen, can I?”  (I’ve heard a person can have a mini pulse if they’re nearly dead or suffering from hypothermia—but then the person certainly wouldn’t be hot—so since she’s not old enough to be going through a life change, she should call 911 because she’s nearly dead. It’s menopause.)

5.       “Do you think sex can be good without an organism?” (This is truly a profound question, since an organism is a “contiguous living system” such as an animal might have. I think my wife qualifies as an organism, so the answer for me is no. It’s orgasm.)

6.       “He’s my altar eagle.”  (Our national bird is going to be sacrificed in a religious ceremony? It’s alter ego.)

7.       “I have a torn rotary cup.” (If the Rotary Club was missing a cup and you found it in your shoulder, you would definitely need surgery. It’s rotator cuff.)

8.       “She has old timer’s disease.” (This is very non-specific and prejudicial…getting old isn’t a disease; it’s just an unfortunate experience. It’s Alzheimer’s disease.)

9.       “Your dairy air looks rather attractive from my point of view.” (I think this is supposed to be a weird compliment, but I’ve lived near a dairy farm and dairy air smells like manure. Isn’t that ironic? It’s derriere.)

10.   “They said their was no dairy in the yogurt, but I’m certain their was, and I’m lack toe tolerant.” (Forget about the misspelling of their—two times—because we all know 50% of the population can’t spell that word. My sincere question is what does dairy have to do with the person’s tolerance of people with missing toes? It’s lactose intolerant.)

11.   “After all the candy I ate, I think I could die of beeties.” (Beeties isn’t even a word—which makes it very difficult to make even a semi-humorous comment—but regardless, I’m certain candy doesn’t lead to death by beeties. It’s diabetes.)

12.   “Obama is the apidimi of what a black man is suppose to be.” (Okay, it’s supposed to be supposed to, and the only reason I’m focusing on that is because apidimi is spelled so poorly that I can’t even think of how to spell it. My spell check for that remarkable letter arrangement says epidemic, so I’m beginning to think bad spelling is an epidemic. It’s epitome.)

13.   “I’m not Willy Wonka. I don’t sugar code things.” (I have watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory because there are no vampires, but apparently Willy was doing a lot of things in secret that I never noticed, including encoding messages in his sweet things. Hmmm. It’s sugar coat.)

14.   “I need a shofar.” (You need a dictionary. It’s chauffeur.)

15.   “Just because I’m white doesn’t mean I can’t have corn roads in my hair, right?” (I think people of all colors should be allowed to have corn roads, wheat streets, and sugar cane lanes. What’s wrong with that? It’s cornrows.)

16.   “Even if I have to wait a year, I’d feel I made it as an aurthur if Oprah read my book.” (Getting Oprah to read your book would definitely be worth waiting a whole year, but what’s an aurthur? It’s author.)

17.   “We just need to teach are children reading, writing, and arithatic.” (And spelling…and the difference between linking verbs and possessive pronouns. It’s our and arithmetic.)

18.   “I just took it for granite.” (Do people often need granite? Do they sometimes misidentify things as granite? It’s granted.)

If you chortled a couple of times because of this guest blog post, feel free to join my own blog at http://jefflaferney.blogspot.com/  or check out my aurthur page on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/authorJeffLaFerney.

Daily Spotlight with Terri Callsen

Excerpt from The Adventures of Charlie and Kaylee

Back at camp Todd and Sam were trying to arrange the medium rocks to form a fireplace when the girls arrived.

            “Did ya’ collect forty like the book said? Ya’ wanna’ make sure that you’re on firm ground, remember. Did ya’ line the bottom with small flat stones so that it’s twenty inches in diameter? And is the back of the fireplace thirty-six inches? Don’t forget your fire dog. You know…the one that the book says needs to be a rock about the size and shape of a loaf of bread. It has to be placed to the side so that the firewood leans against it. This is an important feature and it’s the secret to a good and constant hot fire in any situation,” Charlie’s demands and questions flew from his mouth like wildfire.

Amber groaned, rolling her eyes, but said nothing.

“Ya’ see, if ya’ read the book there are three rules that say we need several stages of kindling from the first tinder to when we’re adding to the fire, it’s important that the kindling be no more than three times the width from the previous piece. The second rule is to gather three times more firewood before you even think about lighting up. Three parts air to one part wood is the third rule for an efficient, smoke-free fire. We’ve got to keep the fire loose and always lean the wood against the fire dog,” Charlie recited word for word. 

“Oh, geez,” Amber grumbled. “What about maintaining the fire, Mr. Survival Handbook?”

Charlie was irked. “The book says that one person has to be awake for - at the most - four hours, and they’ve got to make sure that the fire doesn’t go out just in case an aircraft passes by. That way you can quickly light the smoke signals and let them know that rescuing is needed. Well…some of us would need rescuing.” Charlie raised his chin in the air. “I would just do the ground-air emergency code for “bring me water, food, a rifle, some bullets and the location of how to get to me.”

“Which symbols are those?” Sam teased.

“Well, as a matter of fact, food and water is a capital ‘F’ and rifle and ammo is...

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I Am Who I Am excerpt

The motion detector alarm blared waking both up at six am. She went to the surveillance system and saw two crates had washed ashore, “It looks like I need to deal with some crates would you like to come?”

Nick replied, “Sure why not. How far is it?”

She answered, “They landed on the north side. Never really thought about it, it won’t take long.”

Nick hesitated, “Oh okay, if you say so.”

She said, “Come here and we’ll get going.”

Nick did as he was told.

She said, “Now hold my hand and look at the screen with the two crates and visualize yourself there.”

Nick thought She was full of crap, so he never tried.

She felt the drag of negativity making it take a little longer to teleport.

Nick thought he had his eyes open but when he opened them they were on the beach.

She let go and started opening the crates that contained one female and one male mule deer, “This reminds me of the time when I came up with Operation Mincemeat through Ewen Montaque. He was a young lieutenant commander in the Admiralty’s Naval Intelligence Division at the time. I was his assistant back in World War two when the next city to be fought over was Sicily. Winston Churchill declared anybody but a dam fool would know it was Sicily. 

We needed a diversion and that’s when we created Major William Martin.

By the beginning of 1943 the Allies were in command of the whole of North African coast and ready to strike what Churchill called the soft under belly of Europe.

It was clear to the Germans that Allied armies in Africa were bound to be used in the Mediterranean, possibly to invade Italy or South of France, or to land in Greece. We began a discreet search for a body and found a young man who had died of pneumonia. We promised his relatives to have a proper burial for him but under a different name.

Now the plan was intricate, we had to make the Germans believe that the letters were real and he could’ve died from exposure to the ocean. We named him Major William Martin, Royal Marines on the staff of Lord Louis Mountbatten, Chief of Combined Operations.

Our security leak had to come from someone at the highest level. We persuaded General Sir Archibald Nye, Vice Chief of the Imperial General Staff to write a personal letter to General Alexander who commanded the army group in Tunisia, making it clear that an army under Field Marshall Sir Henry Wilson was to land in Greece. Operation Brimbstone was to be launched in the Western Mediterranean but not against Sicily.

Our decoy needed a personal message from Lord Mountbatten to Admiral of the Fleet Sir Cunningham so that it would show the need to fly to North Africa. We decided that Martin should be acting as a courier and he was to be an expert in the use of landing craft on his way to the Mediterranean to advise on training for a sea borne operation.

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Daily Spotlight - Violet Patterson

Excerpt from Ryder on the Storm

Storm

When you first realize you are different it can come as a shock.  It should come as a shock.  For Storm Sullivan it had been different.  She felt nothing, just took it in stride, staring blankly into the fireplace while her mother hyperventilated.  Storm was seven at the time.  Her first vision seemed as simple as a daydream.  It hadn’t hurt back then.  No headaches or blinding pain.  The most uncomfortable part of the experience was the rough fabric of the 70s style sofa chafing her legs.  Storm kept adjusting the blue gingham-checked romper while Aunt Trin stroked her auburn curls, from the nape of her neck to her waist and over again. 

Her mother wept as she explained the family curse.  Storm stared at her, stone-faced, replaying her vision and thinking about her mother’s fragility.   Aunt Trin kept stroking her hair, the gentle rhythm a soothing gesture in the wake of her mother’s emotions.  Storm felt annoyed.   The vision had been a simple one, her friend Sami stealing a pack of gum from the corner store and receiving a stern talking to after being caught.  It hadn’t even fazed her.  But her mother, well, Sophie Sullivan’s hopes of the curse passing over her only child were dashed in an instant. 

Storm looked at her mother, mascara dripping down her cheeks like a sad circus clown, wild desperation and sadness warring behind her eyes.  Aunt Trin had spoken up at just the right moment, “Sophie, luv, it will be fine.  You knew it was a better chance than not that our Storm would receive the Sight as well.  She is taking it better than you.  Why don’t you go put on some tea and I will figure out what she saw?”

Mother had nodded obligingly before disappearing into the kitchen.  Aunt Trin had turned to her, those lovely emerald eyes flashing with excitement, “She did not take that well did she, luv?” 

Storm suppressed an eye roll and forced herself to shake her head instead.  As always with her aunt, the words flowed easily.  Without emotion she relayed what had played out in the vision and Aunt Trin listened in earnest.  She reclined back against the arm of the sofa and folded her hands together, the enormous jeweled rings clicking like castanets.   Aunt Trin and her mother looked so much alike, from their creamy, clear complexions to their wide emerald eyes, but Storm marveled at how opposite their personalities ended up. Storm sighed as her mother sobbed loudly in the kitchen - very loudly since the dining room and a hallway stood between them. 

Aunt Trin rolled her eyes, “I will take care of her.  Don’t fret about your mother, luv.  Tomorrow morning I will call Sami’s mother and give her a heads up.  I believe you have done your friend a service.  Why don’t you get ready for bed, huh?”  She passed her mother on the way out of the parlor and heard Aunt Trin begin recanting the vision.  Her mother cried harder.  Storm knew that Aunt Trin would be holding her, stroking her hair in that same soothing way.   She climbed the stairs to her room and readied for bed wondering what life had in store for her now that her mind had opened to the Sight.

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

Storm sighed and brushed the memory away.  Looking around, she realized everyone had left.  Storm was the last one standing – in more ways than one.   Aunt Trin was gone.  Aunt Trin who taught Storm about the visions, how to track and interpret them, and most importantly how to recover from the pain of one.  Aunt Trin who’d taught her the craft and raised Storm after her mother gave up on life.  Aunt Trin who was being lowered into the ground, the grinding of gears echoing through the graveyard.  The stargazer lilies on the top of her coffin were wilting in the heat.  Sweat dripped off Storm’s brow.  She wondered briefly if the sheen gave the appearance of tears.  Trin would have liked that.  The tears simply would not come, they never had.  Most people thought her heartless.  She didn’t understand it, couldn’t change it, wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.  Aunt Trin had told her time and again that there was a reason for her emotional paralysis.  Storm just wished she could summon a few tears for the only person she’d ever cared about.

Two caretakers emerged from a truck with shovels and began filling the grave; burly men with sweat stains under their arms that spread in all directions across the gray polyblend jumpsuits.  The larger man even had sweat lines down his back.  Storm refrained from sneering as she approached them, her heels sinking into the soft soil with each step.

“Could I have another moment, please?”  She loosed the belt of her jacket revealing the navy sheath dress beneath.  As expected the caretakers’ eyes bulged slightly at her defined curves and nodded in that stunned manner Storm had become accustomed to long ago.  Once they were out of sight, she knelt beside the grave and took a handful of dirt from the pile.  With the other hand Storm reached into the pocket of her jacket and withdrew a vial.  She cast them both into the grave, stood up, brushed herself off, and nodded toward the caretakers to proceed.  Storm felt their eyes on her as she walked away and pulled her jacket tightly around her, in spite of the sweltering heat.

 

In the driver’s seat of her VW Beetle, Storm exhaled.  It was done.  Everything she’d been asked to do.  She was free.  Sort of.  The visions would still plague her.  Unless she could break the curse.  Storm started her car and flicked the radio on, this one’s for you Aunt Trin, as Jim Morrison blew through the speakers with her namesake song.

Tweet:  Enjoy Sookie Stackhouse and the Black Dagger Brotherhood?  Try Violet Patterson’s Emerald Seer Series today!  http://amzn.to/y3n1mx

Twitter:  @BooksByViolet

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Violet-Patterson/292923177397400?ref=hl

Blog:  Seers, Seraphs, and more – http://emeraldseer.blogspot.com

Book trailer:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKny8zHooHU

Amazon ebook link:  http://amzn.to/y3n1mx

Daily Spotlight - Isabella Sinclair

Erotic Romance Author Isabella Sinclair shares her favorite dish Spicy Nights Turkey Enchiladas – Servings 6 (Two shells)

As an author of erotica I LOVE all things spicy! With the Thanksgiving holiday just past and lots of freezers busting at the seams, now is the time to start devising ways to use up all that yummy leftover turkey! Sandwiches are great – for the first day or so.
If you like a good enchilada you will devour this recipe!

You will need…

• Turkey
• 1 can Cream of Mushroom soup
• Corn Tortillas
• 8 oz Mozzarella Cheese (grated)
• 8 oz Colby Jack (grated)
• Reg size container Ricotta Cheese
• Coconut Oil (cause I like the exotic flavoring over Olive oil)

First you want to soften your corn shells by heating them in a skillet over med heat using the Coconut Oil. Put a TSP or so of oil in the pan and lay the shell in it. As it heats up it will start change color slightly and/or bubble. Flip the shell over and heat the other side. This will make the stiff shells pliable for filling and wrapping.

After you have your shells all soft and workable you want to grease your casserole dish with a smidge of oil.

In a mixing bowl combine the Turkey, Cream of Mushroom soup, Ricotta cheese, and 2/3 of the grated cheese. Use a small amount of this filling to line your baking dish to keep the shells from sticking and to add flavor all the way around.

Holding the shell in the cup of your palm, scoop approximately two tblsp of filling into the center. Wrap the side together and place in the dish. Using your finger smear a bit of the filling across one edge and overlap the other on top of it. The bit of filling will help keep them sealed together.

All 12 shells may or may not fit into one dish. Just get a smaller one and use it for the leftovers. After you have stuffed your shells you want to take the remaining filling (if there is any!) and spread it over the enchiladas then top with the remaining shredded cheese.

You can cover with aluminum foil – or not. I don’t like to so I leave it topless   Bake on 350 degrees for mmmm approximately 30 mins. I cook by smell. If I can smell it – it’s time to take it out! lol You want the top cheese melted and the shells to have a cooked look to them. (edges might be brown and crunchy looking but not overly so)

If you like them HOT add some Chile sauce to your mixture.

Pull them out of the oven and let stand only a few minutes. Top with your favorite Salsa and Sour Cream!

Of course, I can’t eat Spicy Nights Turkey Enchiladas without my fave Mexican beer Dos Equis…because I AM the most interesting woman in the world! 

Enjoy!

Visit with Isabella Sinclair on her Facebook page.

What better way to spend an evening than curling up with Isabella’s Enchiladas and her book OLLY!! (don’t forget the Dos Equis!)

Until then...Enjoy this exerpt from OLLY…

 “I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, In secret, between the shadow and the soul."   ~ Pablo Neruda

With my hand resting at the top of my breastbone, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, preparing to exhume several ghosts from a past I had suppressed long ago. I began, “The problem with love is that people often mistake it with several of its closely related cousins.” I paused to gather my scattered thoughts and could see she already had questions, but I held up my hand to keep her from breaking our agreement. “So many people-myself included-mistake lust and obsession for love. While still embodying them, true love is neither of those things, if that makes sense.”

Devin nodded, keeping silent while feverishly jotting down notes.

“In order to appreciate why I fell in love with the man I did, you have to understand how I came to accept the fact that love doesn’t always show up in the most convenient package. Sometimes it pushes all your buttons, makes you doubt yourself and question the core of your beliefs. At a time in my life when love didn’t seem possible, I went hunting for the next best thing….”

About The Author

Isabella is like a fine wine with a little bit of Rock-n-Roll. She began writing erotic stories to entertain her boyfriend and discovered a talent given at birth. Weaving an erotic tale without going overboard is no simple thing, and Isabella wouldn't dream of leaving out matters of the heart. After all, what is sex without love? Empty!

Connect with Isabella via:  Facebook  and  Goodreads    

Buy her book OLLY on Amazon and Smashwords

Daily Spotlight - Elyse Grant

A chat with Shelley Lieber (and Elyse Grant)

Shelley says:

I can honestly say, “Books are my life.” It probably began with the children’s stories my mother read to me. One glorious day, my father brought home a book for me to read by myself. It was a first-grade reading primer. I can’t imagine where he got it, but I still have the well-worn hardcover on my bookshelf!

From that day on I was addicted to reading, and I have no intention of trying to break the habit. Since graduating from college, my career has been rooted in some area related to books and communication: I’ve held positions in book publishing, magazine publishing, marketing, and public relations as an editor, writer, author, publisher, marketing director, publicity agent, consultant, and author advocate.

Some may know me as Shelley Lieber, The Wordy Woman, author and publishing consultant. In that persona I wrote 4Ps to Publishing Success and Publishing Made Easy & Profitable; created the VIP Authors writers community; and founded Visual Impressions Publishing, a publishing vehicle for independent authors.

But there’s another writer-protagonist in this story. About ten years ago I was transitioning from divorced, single-mom, freelance writer to being an empty nester in a second marriage with a new career as a publishing consultant. A few years later, I began writing Sex in the Suburbs, a nonfiction book about my midlife experiences re-entering the dating world when one day the story abruptly morphed into fiction. You’ve probably heard authors talk about characters having lives and minds of their own. That’s exactly what happened to me.

Elyse takes over...(Oh, please! If we wait for you to tell the story, these nice readers will be here all day...)

My novel, THE PRINCE CHARMING HOAX, began life as a nonfiction book by Shelley Lieber that was going nowhere fast. I’m a fiction writer and I’d been waiting many years to emerge. My opportunity finally showed up one day when Shelley was struggling to organize and present all the stories she had conducted from her real-life interviews with divorced and separated women as research for the book. I saw her falter in frustration and I quickly jumped out and took over the keyboard, introducing her to the characters of Leah Gold and Roxanne Stein. Suddenly everything seemed to fall into place, and the story unfolded.

Shelley returns...Thanks, I’ll take it from here.

The Prince Charming Hoax, a sizzling hot story of self-growth and empowerment, was almost seven years in the making. While in the final editing stage and preparing for the release of the ebook, it occurred to me that I was also gearing up for my personal “release” as the author of erotic fiction. Contemplating these momentous events, I was struck by the realization that Shelley Lieber and Elyse Grant are the real-life models for Leah Gold and Roxanne Stein. Shelley and Leah are the “good girls,” smart, creative, with nurturing mom-type personalities. Roxie and Elyse are the “naughty girls,” sassy, ambitious, with a penchant for bending the rules and having fun.

The truth is that every woman has these two personalities within. Mine are just living it out publicly! I hope you enjoy The Prince Charming Hoax. FYI: This is Leah’s book with Roxie as co-star. But in the third novel of the e-trilogy, Roxie will get the lead role. (Elyse says: “If I have anything to with it—and I do because I’M the fiction writer—Roxie will get the lead in book two.”) (Shelley replies: “Yes, well, I’M the editor, so we’ll see who wins this argument J.”)

Please follow Shelley and Elyse’s escapades in the real and literary worlds at their blogs:

http://shelleylieber.blogspot.com

http://elysegrant.blogspot.com

Connect online!

Amazon: http://amzn.to/Y5YRaC 

Facebook: http://facebook.com/shelleylieber

Twitter: http://twitter.com/wordywoman

Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/shelleylieber

Daily Spotlight - Joyce T. Strand

Celebrating Valentine’s Day: What about Telling them in Writing?

By Joyce T. Strand, Editor

Strand’s Simply Tips (http://StrandsSimplyTips.blogspot.com)

Author, ON MESSAGE and OPEN MEETINGS

Jillian Hillcrest Mysteries

Did you know that Valentine’s Day as a celebration of romantic love originated at least in part from one of Geoffrey Chaucer’s poems? And we all know that Geoffrey Chaucer was a 14^th century writer and poet–perhaps an originator of modern English literature. Of course, he was many other things–in true Renaissance man style–but since this is an article about writing and readers, I’m highlighting his relevant skills.

The point is: writing played an important role in originating, tracking, and encouraging the concept of romantic love.

So what does that mean for Valentine’s Day now, this year, in this century?

I’m glad you asked. Have you planned what you’ll give your loved ones this year to let them know that you do indeed love them?  What about telling them in writing – maybe not in rhyming poetry, but prose that romps through some shared experiences, or just lays out why you care for them.

If you’re a writer already, your response is probably something like “duh”, and you proceed to write or not to write depending on how much prose you’ve already handed out to say “I love you.”

But if you’re not a writer, maybe you’d appreciate a little help. 

I believe that writing can be fun and even therapeutic.  In today’s world, however, we focus on drafting quick tweets, texts, and e-mails, but forget how meaningful a paragraph of prose can be. Writing can be a valuable way to reach out to one another to communicate our love.

To help you convey your love in real terms, following are some suggested tips. Of course, your paragraph(s) will vary depending on your recipient and the relationship you have. But if you use real-life experiences, you might be surprised how strongly you can connect.

In the beginning, let’s focus on just one paragraph—which must be at least three sentences: beginning statement, middle corroborating sentence, and concluding sentence. Of course, you can write more than three sentences so long as they follow that pattern.

• Describe an event that made you laugh with your recipient. What was the event? Why did it make you laugh? How did you feel afterwards? A concluding statement might be that laughter is an important part of love.
• Write about a time you went on a trip together—even if just to the supermarket. Did you talk about your day at work? Or about your next vacation? Or how you were going to pay the bills?  You could conclude that sharing your life with someone involves talking about your lives together.
• Describe your first big purchase together—a new car, furniture, a house. What made it special (other than the pages of documents you had to sign)?
• What about entertainment events you enjoyed together, like going to a sports game, movie, play, other event? Why did you enjoy it? Did you both like the same events? Did you root for the same team? Did you trade off who got to choose? What did it mean to you?
• To use Valentine’s Day to reach out to a family member, e.g., mom, dad, brother, sister, you might focus on family time together.  You could even write dialogue of a family dinner together and have the family re-enact. For fun, switch roles, that is, Dad should read your dialogue; mom could read Dad’s etc.  Again, what was the event? Why was it memorable to you? What does it mean?
• Or, if it’s just for mom or dad, think about a time they attended one of your sporting or school events. Why was it important to you? What did it mean?

Of course, you don’t have to only write about love on Valentine’s Day. There are many special days to let our loved ones know we love them—birthdays, anniversaries, other holidays, or for no reason at all.  But do consider making a note of the many little—and some big—events that coalesce to define love.  And do write about them. You might even end up with a book!

Daily Spotlight - Amy K. McClung

The Parker Harris Series

by Amy K McClung

Cascades of Moonlight (Book #1)

“Vampires and Werewolves have been myths turned into movies, books, and plays for hundreds of years. Everyone has heard of them, everyone has their own interpretation of what they are and the ways you can kill them. Some people say that Vampires are creatures of the night that can’t walk in the sun and are killed by wooden stakes, burned by holy water or torn apart by other vampires. Some say vampires can’t go in the sun because their skin sparkles like diamonds. There are stories of vampire slayers and there are werewolf hunters.

As many stories as there are, you would think more people would believe these creatures exist. I mean, how else would there be so much talk about something that never existed? How would there be so many ideas that are so closely related? Maybe some people just don’t want to believe because they are scared of the possibilities it could bring, scared to face the reality that monsters are real. Of all the myths, the part of how to kill a vampire is quite limited. There is no easy way to kill a vampire unless you are a master vampire or a werewolf. Luckily, I am a werewolf.”

Parker Harris isn’t your typical teenage girl, not completely at least. For the past two years she has been struggling once a month with the extreme pain of shifting into a werewolf. She faces the challenge of keeping this secret from those she loves until one day a stranger comes into town and he knows that secret somehow. Now she has to face an even bigger challenge. She is falling in love...with a Vampire, of all things. Murder, Betrayal, Love, Deception, Friendship, and Loyalty, fill the pages of this book.

Dreams, Spells, and Moonlit Tales (Book #2)

“Barely able to open my eyes, I croaked out, "Don't go…please…don’t leave me alone. I'm scared…" His face whipped back to look at me, when he heard my voice, and I saw that his fangs were out. His face was a mask of anguish. He began moving back toward me, but reached up, felt his teeth, and turned back again to leave and was gone in a flash. The blood had made him hungry, he hasn’t fed in a while and he was losing control. He had no other choice but to leave me there, dying. Fear washed over me with the realization that I was going to die here, these injuries are too severe for my wolf powers to heal me, I could feel my body growing weaker by the minute. Gloom was closing over me; pain enveloped my body, and I couldn’t fight closing my eyes anymore. All I wanted was the pain to stop. I invited the darkness to encompass me, with the promise that I would hurt no more.”

A mistake from Parker's past is revealed and proves to be more enormous than she realized. Dreams, Spells, and Moonlit Tales summarize the events of Parker's life in this book.

Both books are available now and Book 3 will be out in the Summer of 2013.

Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/CascadesOfMoonlight

Amazon links:

Cascades of Moonlight (The Parker Harris Series Book 1) http://www.amazon.com/Cascades-Moonlight-Parker-Harris-ebook/dp/B008317UG0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1357859625&sr=1-1&keywords=amy+mcclung

Dreams, Spells, and Moonlit Tales (The Parker Harris Series Book 2) http://www.amazon.com/Dreams-Spells-Moonlit-Parker-ebook/dp/B00AQIHA6I/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1357859932&sr=1-3&keywords=amy+mcclung

Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6421342.Amy_McClung