Edge of your seat suspense

What’s the difference between a suspense book and an “edge of your seat, turn-paging” suspense book?



I’d like to explore that question today. For as long as I can remember, my favorite genre has been romantic suspense and suspense thrillers. I’ve come to expect twists and turns to keep me guessing until I turn the last page. And now that I write in these genres, I promise to draw my readers into a whirlwind of suspense and intrigue. Here are some of the elements that I look for and promise to deliver in my books:



1. Desolate setting

2. Captivating storyline that will hook the reader right from the start

3. Spine-tingling background music that will draw the reader into the story

4. Quirky or obsessive character traits that will identify the character as unique

5. Heroine that reader can empathize with and scream for her to be rescued by the romantic hero!

6 Romantic hero with a “Don’t mess with me” attitude that isn’t above cutting corners

7. Villain that we love to hate

8 Dialogue interspersed with atmospheric description to make us feel, see, hear, smell, taste and touch

9 Twist and turns to make the reader gasp

10Sizzling chemistry between the lovers

11. The ability to make the reader laugh and cry and cheer when the hero rescues the heroine at the last minute and whisks her away into the happily-ever-after



I’d like to show you a few of these examples in my newly released suspense book Mask of the Betrayer. In the opening scene, the killer is programmed to kill the betrayer at midnight. He has been programmed to do this through music. The “Hunting Song” plays in his head during a kill.



“A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go. Heigh-ho the dairy-o, a hunting we will go. We’ll kill a fox and put him in a box. Heigh-ho the dairy-o, a hunting we will go.”



Thinking of the nursery rhyme, doesn’t this song play in your head, drawing you into my book?



The setting for Mask of the Betrayer is set in Red Rock Canyon, a desolate mountain range within miles of the dazzling Las Vegas Strip. Here is a scene to draw the reader into the setting, and show you the villain’s (Michael DeVeccio) obsessive trait.



Pouring himself two fingers of finely-aged bourbon, billionaire business tycoon Michael DeVeccio walked on the verandah of his mansion and gazed into the foothills. The raw beauty of the Red Rock Mountains encompassed him. Miles of open valleys and rugged terrain and lush forests full of petrified logs the Paiute Indians believed to be weapons of the wolf gods stretched as far as the eye could see. And what a rush to climb to the top of the mountain and survey the dazzling Vegas Strip like king of the jungle.

Fishing a Marlboro from the pack, he tapped it three times on the parapet before lighting it. He inhaled deeply, allowing the nicotine to filter into his brain. Under the hunter’s moon, night predators slithered out of the underbrush, just on the periphery of the jagged twists and turns of the canyon. From deep in the woods, a coyote howled, its keening wail slicing through the quiet. Michael loved the call of the wild. The primitive cries got under his skin, arousing him. Dominant and defiant, animals fought to protect what belong to them. He especially admired the sleek moves of the panther. With its keen eyesight, acute hearing, and uncanny ability to sneak up on its prey unnoticed, it pounced on its victim in one slick move. Michael understood the moves of the night predators. He was one of them.



Sizzling chemistry to feed the romance lover in you! The following is the scene where Margot and Michael meet:



The beckoning wail of sax drifted out of the piano bar, the bluesy sound of jazz bristling beneath her skin. After spending the better part of the afternoon negotiating at an art auction, unwinding over a chilled martini sounded like utter bliss. Seduced by the sound of sax, she sauntered up the three steps leading to the mezzanine and ordered a Pomegranate martini.

“You got it, doll,” the bartender winked.

“Whatever the pretty lady wants is on the house,” the man approaching the bar said in a buttery soft voice. “And give me a bourbon on the rocks, Jazz.”

Margot turned around and came face to face with the billionaire tycoon of DeVeccio Plaza. His shocking blue eyes left her breathless. With his sharply defined features, full sensual lips, and all that black wavy hair, he reminded her of one of the sculptured Greek gods she’d featured last month at her gala.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Michael DeVeccio. Welcome to my palace.”

Every pulse in her body was as charged as an electrical current. Michael DeVeccio, legendary for building luxury resorts in every continent, exuded strength and power from every pore. His world renowned success preceded him. And here he stood in front of her in all his glory, one hundred and eighty pounds of raw, sexual energy. Mesmerized by his hypnotic blue eyes, she met his gaze. “I’m Margot Montgomery. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your resort is everything it’s rumored to be, simply breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” he edged a bit closer. “I’ve always fancied it to be the jewel of the Strip. I didn’t think anything could outshine DeVeccio Plaza. But I was wrong. Nothing could possibly hold a candle to the sparkle in your emerald green eyes.”

As the hot sound of jazz drifted through the piano bar, a warm desert breeze blew in from open terrace doors, the seductive undertone thick and heavy. The sassy wail of sax and the sweet lilt of piano counterpointed, stirring the air with its sensual rhythm.



Here is a teaser when the homicide cop Diego Santiago (romantic hero) knows Michael is the serial killer and comes to question him:

“Detective Santiago,” Michael yelled down. “And what brings you calling so early in the morning? Out for a leisurely cruise around the neighborhood? Or perhaps you’ve come to extend your congratulations to the newlyweds?”

“Cut the bull, DeVeccio,” Santiago barked. “There’s been another murder in the foothills, and guess whose corpse I just sent down to the morgue?”

“I have no idea. Do I look clairvoyant? Why don’t you fill me in on the mystery corpse? Otherwise, we could be here all day guessing whose body is on a slab in the morgue. And as intriguing as that sounds, I have a meeting in an hour.”

“If you could drag yourself away from your gourmet breakfast,” Santiago bellowed, his voice echoing through the stillness of the woods. “How about coming down here and answering a few questions. And FYI, DeVeccio. It looks like the Red Rock Slasher is back in business. But that shouldn’t surprise you since you knew Russel Harrison didn’t kill your ex-wife. You framed him for the murder and we both know who the real killer is. Take a look at yourself in the mirror on the way down. He’ll be staring right back at you.”



When Margot realizes she is married to the killer, she runs to the homicide cop. He writes a song for her, My Sweet Margarita



As soon as Margot got out of her car, she heard the gentle strumming of a flamenco guitar. The melodious lilt of the Latin music drifted through the air, soft and sweet. Drawn to it, she ran up the steps and peered into the round arched window. Mesmerized by what she saw, she stared in awe.

Bathed in sunlight, Diego sat in front of a fireplace, tenderly holding the small guitar. He strummed the strings with outward flicks of his fingers, producing a rhythmic roll reminiscent of castanets. Silhouetted in partial sunlight and partial shadows, he gently caressed the lustrous neck of the wooden guitar.

When the song ended, Margot quietly knocked at the door, feeling as if she’d finally come home.

Even before Diego opened the door, he knew it was her; the beautiful woman with the bewitching green eyes. Even if he hadn’t heard the sound of her tires in the driveway, even if he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her watching him through the window, he would have sensed her presence. And knowing she was watching him, listening to him play the love song he’d written for her made it all the sweeter. With his heart thumping, he flung the door open and pulled her into his arms.

“I had to come,” she said in a breathless voice, feeling his muscles quiver and bunch beneath her fingers. “Oh, Diego. I had no idea you played the guitar. And with such finesse. What a beautiful song, so bitter-sweet.”

Diego’s broody brown eyes grew dark with passion. “I wrote it for you. I call it my Sweet Margarita.”



MASK OF THE BETRAYER

AVAILABLE NOW!

ON SALE FOR ENTIRE MONTH OF MAY

WHIMSICAL PUBLICATIONS



http://www.whimsicalpublications.com/books.html

eBook

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Sharon Donovan

Romantic Suspense with a Twist of Faith

Murder at Midnight at a Masquerade

The dance floor vibrated with footsteps as guests glided, clomped, and stomped across it. The Joker hopped around, laughing like a fool. The Deranged Clown grabbed Margot for a spin around the floor. Dressed in black and white checks and a black mask, An Evil Jester rubbed up against the Smoldering Temptress, whispering crude suggestions in her ear. Covered in voodoo pins from head to toe, the Voodoo Doll danced alone.




But it was Zorro who turned heads from the moment she’d sashayed into the ballroom. Drop dead gorgeous in a crimson body suit and long flowing cape, she had the attention of every male in the ballroom. Her long platinum hair billowed around her voluptuous body and red feather mask. Sheathed in a crimson scaled scabbard, her Zorro sword rested on her left thigh.



The men all stared. The Mysterious Stranger in a black cape swept Zorro away with the moves of a ballroom dancer, looking for all the world like her long lost lover. But as soon as the song ended, another masked guest asked Zorro to dance, and before long, she’d danced with nearly every man at the party.

“Michael,” Margot whispered in his ear. “Everyone is captivated by Zorro. Do you know who she is?”

Michael watched Zorro glide across the ballroom floor with ease. Chic and elegant with the legs of a dancer, she danced the night away, her patent leather heels never touching the ground. A crimson rose pendant graced her long, elegant neck. Michael knew precisely who she was. He’d given her the rose necklace on their wedding night. Taking one final look at Zorro, he pulled Margot into a tight embrace. After kissing her, he whispered in her ear. “I have no idea who she is. Darling Margot, I only have eyes for you. You are the perfect woman.”



The storm that had been brewing all day broke just as the bell tower tolled. Eleven piercing chimes rang out simultaneously with the rumbling of thunder. Winds from the Mohave Desert hurled in through open terrace doors, blowing out the cinnamon-scented candelabras in the ballroom. Pellets of cold hard rain pounded helter skelter on the windows. The crystal chandelier swayed back and forth like a pendulum. It flickered once, then twice. And then all went dark.







Zorro sat at the bar, sipping on a bourbon on the rocks. Michael crept up behind her and whispered in her ear. “Nobody makes an entrance like you do, Darling Candace. You have every man in the place rock hard.”

“Michael,” she purred, her smoky voice as smooth as silk. “I knew you’d recognize me.” She ran her hand over his masked face. “The role of Valentino suits you. You are still the most handsome man I’ve ever set eyes on.”

“And there were certainly enough of them,” his voice came out low and husky. “How many men, Candace? Did you ever keep count of how many lovers you had during our marriage?”

“You were the only one that ever mattered,” she rubbed up closer. “We had something real special between us. And being back in the ballroom tonight brings back all those memories. Like the way you used to hold me in your arms when we glided across the floor. And afterwards,” she slid her hand down his chest—and lower still. “We set the sheets on fire, remember, darling?”

“We had our moments,” he said. “But I also remember kicking your trashy ass out of Vegas and telling you to never return. And yet here you are, an uninvited guest at my masquerade ball. You know the extent of my wrath better than anyone. And yet you dare to defy me. Why is that, Candace?”

“Because I love you, darling,” sexuality oozed from every pore. “You and only you. Let’s sneak up to our old bedroom and see if we can rekindle some old flames. Come on, sugar. Let’s get between those satin sheets and set the night on fire.”

Michael leaned very close, massaging her leg with his fingers. In a voice raw with sexuality, he whispered, “Darling Candace. How can I resist. Meet me in Uncle Carlos’s suite in ten minutes. We’ll ring in the New Year together. You have no idea how much I want to be alone with you. Beautiful, beautiful Candace. I promise to make you scream”

Mask of the Betrayer is on sale for the entire month of May at Whimsical Publications. Now is your chance to purchase it at a discount.


BUY LINK:

http://www.whimsicalpublications.com/sharon_donovan/mask_of_the_betrayer.html



ebook:

http://www.whimsicalpublications.com/books.html

Wednesday Spotlight with Sharon Donovan

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! The tables are a bit turned today, and Oliver, my sexy cyber butler, will be interviewing yours truly. We are chatting about my newly released thriller from Whimsical Publications, MASK OF THE BETRAYER, book one in the sequel series. So grab a seat and make yourself comfortable. Oliver has plenty of coffee, tea and pastries lined up on the side board in the parlor. And you know the rules, the bar is always open. Belly up and Oliver will be happy to mix your favorite poison.
With the raw beauty of the Red Rock Canyon as the backdrop, Oliver pours a cup of coffee and presents Sharon with a bouquet of yellow roses.

Sharon: Thank you, Oliver. Aren’t they fresh and lovely. However did you know these are my favorite flowers?

Oliver raises an eyebrow and winks. Because you made me rehearse my lines to the point of obsession.

Sharon: Moving right along. Are those blueberry muffins I smell, dearheart?

Oliver: But of course, boss. Coming right up. He struts off, pumping his biceps, muttering something about high maintenance. He returns, pushing a silver caddy, places the succulent muffins bursting with berries on the coffee table. With great theatrics, he lavishly butters one and breaks a piece off, popping it into Sharon’s mouth.

Sharon: Mmm. Delicious. Sharon winks and rolls her eyes. I suppose this is where I faint and clutch my heart and pant, Oh, Oliver. Almost as delicious as you, loveboat!

Oliver smirks and takes a seat on the wing back chair. So about this thriller, Mask of the Betrayer. Is it the one I star in? Where I get to be the romantic hero?

Sharon: No, Oliver. As we’ve discussed several times, that would be Charade of Hearts, coming out in November as part of the Jewel of the Night series. Mask of the Betrayer is book one in the sequel series, my debut thriller about a serial killer.

Oliver: Now my interest is perked. I adore suspense books, and as you know, my real job is a detective.

Sharon: Yes, Oliver. So you tell me daily about your “real job” but let’s stick to Mask of the Betrayer for today, shall we?

Oliver: By all means, Toots.

Sharon: Knock it off, Oliver. Remember, I write your script.

Oliver smiles a beguiling smile. How could I forget when you constantly remind me, boss? Why don’t I hold up a copy of the book and read a blurb and excerpt?

Sharon: That would be great, Oliver. I was beginning to think you forgot your line.

Sharon smiles and quietly sips her hazelnut coffee.

Oliver holds up the book and announces, "And with no further ado, here is a teaser from Mask of the Betrayer"

FROM WHIMSICAL PUBLICATIONS

MASK OF THE BETRAYER

BY SHARON ANN DONOVAN

When the whispers in the night, the whispers of her lover, are the whispers of a killer, will Margot escape before she becomes the next victim?

Deep in the foothills of Red Rock Canyon, a serial killer stalks. He leaves his signature—a skull mask on the corpse. But when the homicide cop realizes the crimes are the reenactment of a case never solved ten years ago--all fingers point to Michael DeVeccio. And when Margot realizes she is married to the killer, her life becomes a living nightmare.


Excerpt:

Michael DeVeccio had it all. A billion dollar construction company that built luxury resorts all over the world, a twenty-four room mansion with servants at his beck and call, the most dazzling club on the Vegas Strip, a fleet of outlandishly expensive sports cars, a private jet—and more money than he could use in ten life times. He had it all with the exception of one thing, a son, an heir to his vast domain. And once he found the perfect woman to produce his heir and propagate the family business, the DeVeccio Empire would rule the universe. He envisioned the ideal woman to produce his heir being flawless in every way. Her inner beauty would shine as bright as her outward appearance, she’d have proper etiquette with impeccable manners, and she’d be cultured in fine arts. His perfect woman would be well educated on current events when hosting extravagant parties and galas for his business associates. She’d be honest and sincere and loyal to him and only him. And she would not be a woman beguiled by his wealth and fortune. Yes, he mused, the time had come to find that woman. And it would happen. He ruled it so.

***

Flaming copper finials bordered the entrance of DeVeccio Plaza, drawing guests in with its regal appeal. Standing tall and mighty in a sky of midnight blue velvet, the flaming torches gleamed like shooting stars with tails. The interior of the grandest resort on the Vegas Strip gave chase to marble staircases with elaborately turned balustrades and high end sculptures behind beveled glass enclosures. Rushing down the corridor after procuring the mural she’d bid on, Margot fought the urge to kick off her high heels and walk barefoot down the plush, red carpeting.

The beckoning wail of sax drifted out of the piano bar, the bluesy sound of jazz bristling beneath her skin. After spending the better part of the afternoon negotiating at an art auction, unwinding over a chilled martini sounded like utter bliss. Seduced by the sound of sax, she sauntered up the three steps leading to the mezzanine and ordered a Pomegranate martini.

“You got it, doll,” the bartender winked.

“Whatever the pretty lady wants is on the house,” the man approaching the bar said in a buttery soft voice. “And give me a bourbon on the rocks, Jazz.”

Margot turned around and came face to face with the billionaire tycoon of DeVeccio Plaza. His shocking blue eyes left her breathless. With his sharply defined features, full sensual lips, and all that black wavy hair, he reminded her of one of the sculptured Greek gods she’d featured last month at her gala.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Michael DeVeccio. Welcome to my palace.”

Every pulse in her body was as charged as an electrical current. Michael DeVeccio, legendary for building luxury resorts in every continent, exuded strength and power from every pore. His world renowned success preceded him. And here he stood in front of her in all his glory, one hundred and eighty pounds of raw, sexual energy. Mesmerized by his hypnotic blue eyes, she met his gaze. “I’m Margot Montgomery. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your resort is everything it’s rumored to be, simply breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” he edged a bit closer. “I’ve always fancied it to be the jewel of the Strip. I didn’t think anything could outshine DeVeccio Plaza. But I was wrong. Nothing could possibly hold a candle to the sparkle in your emerald green eyes.”

Thunderous applause explodes through cyber space.

Sharon: Oliver, isn’t this the part where you beg for my autograph?

Oliver: What’s that? Oof, watch your elbow, boss. No need to poke me in the ribcage. Here’s a pen.

With great ceremony, Sharon plucks up the fountain pen and signs Oliver’s copy. There we go.

Oliver swoons. Thank you, I’ll cherish it forever…that is…until my book comes out, Charade of Hearts where I get to be the main man.

Sharon: Soon, Oliver, in November.

Oliver: So, tell us about Michael DeVeccio, the main character. He’s a trained serial killer and has been getting away with murder for years. How so?

Sharon: Michael is the most complex character I’ve written about to date. I wanted to portray the complexity of the mind in this novel. It can bend. It can break. It can snap. For many years, Michael DeVeccio has been getting away with murder. As with most serial killers, the profile suggests something so traumatic happened in his childhood, the mind dissociates in order to block it out. If you enjoy getting inside the head of characters, you will like Mask of the Betrayer. What could have caused a sweet blue-eyed boy who loved and adored his parents, parents who instilled good moral standards in their son, to grow up to become one of the decade’s most cold-blooded killers?

Oliver: Hmm. Sounds like you did your research, boss. What kind of research did you do?

Sharon: I studied everything I could about sociopaths and psychopaths. What makes them so chilling is that they hide it so well. It’s almost as if they are programmed to say and do what people expect of them, but inside the darkest recesses of their mind, ugly thoughts and schemes lurk.

Oliver: Such as?

Sharon: While they appear to be charming, they are actually hostile and domineering. They see their victims as instruments to be used to reach their own selfish goals. The end will always justify the means. And this is what Michael does. Outwardly, he is devastatingly handsome, charismatic and wins people over in the blink of an eye. But inwardly, he finds their Achilles heel, uses it for his own gain, and then disposes of them with no remorse. Michael is a psychopath and has no emotions. His charm is superficial and he is the master manipulator.

Oliver: What drives him?

Sharon: Absolute power. He has to be the best at everything, and if anyone gets in his way, they will be disposed of. Permanently.

Oliver: You said that he was a normal and healthy child with parents that adored him and gave him a good moral upbringing. What would cause a seemingly normal person to go so wayward?

Sharon: Mind manipulation from a higher force, someone cunning and cold. This would be Michael’s uncle. You see, when Michael was a boy of twelve, his parents were killed and his uncle took him in and raised him as his own son. But his uncle was one of the biggest leaders in organized crime, and was training Michael to take over his billion dollar construction company and all its enterprises. Carlos taught Michael to kill the betrayer, and cover the corpse with a death mask. Michael was so traumatized by this that he dissociated and eventually was programmed to kill.

Oliver: But what is it that he really wants?

Sharon: A son. Michael has it all with the exception of one thing, a son to carry on the DeVeccio Dynasty. And he is on the hunt for the perfect woman to bring his heir into the world. And he finds that woman in Margot Montgomery. She is the perfect woman and for the first time in his life, Michael comes close to love.

Oliver: But what happens:

Sharon: Obviously, you’ll have to read the book, Oliver. But I’ll leave you with this. Margot falls off the pedestal Michael places her on. And when she does, her life becomes a living nightmare. The things that Michael does to her are unspeakable.

Oliver pulls out his book and begins reading.

Sharon: Oliver, how about corking the bottle of chilled champagne for the guests. And while you’re doing that, I’ll tell them about the contest. One of the scenes in Mask of the Betrayer portrays a lavish masquerade party in the grand ballroom of the DeVeccio mansion. It’s a huge ball and everyone is dressed for the nines. But at the stroke of midnight, the power goes out, and a murder takes place.

Thank you all for visiting. Have a glass of champagne and some chocolates. Hope I’ve enticed you to run out and buy Mask of the Betrayer.

ZORRO CONTEST

This contest will run for the entire month of May!

It’s a masquerade ball in the grand ballroom. At the stroke of midnight, all the lights go out during a blackout. Zorro is the belle of the ball, dancing footloose and fancy free with every man at the party. But when the lights go out, one of the masked guests thrusts the Zorro sword straight through her heart.


Contest rules:

Mask of the Betrayer is on sale for the entire month of May at Whimsical Publications. Now is your chance to purchase it at a discount.

BUY LINK:
http://www.whimsicalpublications.com/sharon_donovan/mask_of_the_betrayer.html

Print and Ebook when available

Whimsical Publications, LLC

www.whimsicalpublications.com

Send me an email at
sharonad@comcast.net

Put Zorro Contest in the subject line and answer the following:


QUESTION: Who spotted Valentino stealing the sword from Zorro?

PRIZE: Deluxe Zorro cape and jeweled pin. Good luck and happy reading! Don’t forget to read the excerpt for a sneak preview of the murder during a blackout!

Taken

Do you think it’s easy to spot a sociopath? Despite the man or woman portrayed in the box office thrillers who look as if they’ve just undergone a lobotomy, psychopaths are not for the most part easily spotted. He or she may be a doctor, lawyer, scientist or CEO of a major corporation. They are highly intelligent and charismatic, but have a chronic inability to feel guilt, remorse or anxiety for any of their actions. The end will always justify the means because they are master at the game. Here are a few traits:




 Superficial charm

 Domineering personality

 Expert at spotting a person’s Achilles heel, using it to his or her advantage, then disposing them like bad rubbish

 Great joy in belittling their victims

 Grandiose sense of self

 Feel entitled to certain things as their rights

 Pathological liars

 Lies roll off their tongues in spades

 A deep-seeded rage is at their core

 Friends they make will become victims

 Feign love and joy

 Outraged by insignificant matters, yet remain cold and indifferent at what would upset a normal person

 They are not genuine and neither are their promises

 Unable to empathize with the pain of their victims

 Compulsive need to control and manipulate

 Secretive, trusting no one

 Ultimate goal of enslaving their victims

 May state readily that their goal is to rule the world

 Oblivious to their shallowness



And the whole while, the sociopath will smile, charm you, flatter you and befriend you. But behind the mask, dark evil lurks. They want you for something, and will expertly charm their way into your life. During my psychology classes, the study of the mind fascinated me. It’s a tricky faux. It can bend. It can break. It can snap. In my newly released novel, Mask of the Betrayer, I’ve created the character of Michael DeVeccio to illustrate such a person. Here is a little teaser.



Michael DeVeccio had it all. A billion dollar construction company that built luxury resorts all over the world, a twenty-four room mansion with servants at his beck and call, the most dazzling club on the Vegas Strip, a fleet of outlandishly expensive sports cars, a private jet—and more money than he could use in ten life times. He had it all with the exception of one thing, a son, an heir to his vast domain. And once he found the perfect woman to produce his heir and propagate the family business, the DeVeccio Empire would rule the universe. He envisioned the ideal woman to produce his heir being flawless in every way. Her inner beauty would shine as bright as her outward appearance, she’d have proper etiquette with impeccable manners, and she’d be cultured in fine arts. His perfect woman would be well educated on current events when hosting parties and galas for his business associates. She’d be honest and sincere and loyal to him and only him. And she would not be a woman beguiled by his wealth and fortune. Yes, he mused, taking a final drag of his cigarette. This perfect woman would be angelic and worthy of producing the heir to his kingdom. And the time had come to find that woman. And it would happen. He ruled it so.



Tomorrow’s post will show the excerpt when Michael meets the perfect woman at his Vegas night club. Stay tuned for coming attractions: Beguiled by a sociopath



MASK OF THE BETRAYER

AVAILABLE NOW!

WHIMSICAL PUBLICATIONS

http://www.whimsicalpublications.com/books.html

Mask of the Betrayer Available today!

MASK OF THE BETRAYER

Sharon Donovan

Fiction-Psychological thriller/suspense

Whimsical Publications,

LLC/paperback 282 pages

April 2010

$13.95

ISBN-13: 978-1-936167-06-7

When the whispers in the night, the whispers of her lover, are the whispers of a killer, will Margot escape before she becomes the next victim?

Deep in the foothills of Red Rock Canyon, a serial killer stalks. He leaves his signature—a skull mask on the corpse. But when the homicide cop realizes the crimes are the reenactment of a case never solved ten years ago--all fingers point to Michael DeVeccio. And when Margot realizes she is married to the killer, her life
becomes a living nightmare.

Excerpt:

Suspecting her affair with Carlos, he had surveillance equipment installed all over the mansion. Once he showed her the very graphic video of her and his uncle going at it in the satin-lined coffin, he’d used it to his advantage.

Michael suspected his uncle knew more about his parents’ accident than he’d let on, but couldn’t prove a thing. Desperate to uncover the truth, Michael blackmailedCandace into getting Carlos to confess on tape. If she failed, she’d be killed. Stuck between a rock and a hard spot, Candace had done things to the old coot that disgusted even her. But those things had made the old man sing like a canary and the taped confession had saved her life. After her mission was a done deal, Michael kicked her out of Vegas and told her if she ever returned, he would rip her lung out.

Reaching Carlos DeVeccio’s bedroom, she got a little thrill as old memories surfaced. Just a few more seconds and she’d fall into the arms of her lover. She smiled to herself. She had returned to Vegas for a reason. She was flat broke. But after tonight, Michael would be her ticket back into the world of luxury. Then she’d be mistress of the manor once more. And more to the point, she’d have access to his billion dollar bank
roll.

With a devious smile, she pushed her way through the heavy mahogany door. Crossing the threshold, she entered the house of horrors. Carlos DeVeccio had been a real nut, one straight out of the books. But with her fetish for face masks, she loved his collection and had often come into his wing just to admire them. What a thrill it had been to have sex in the coffin, howling along with the werewolf. Some might think it a
bit kinky, but they didn’t know what they were missing. Calling out to her lover, her pulse quickened a beat. “Michael? Are you here yet, darling?”

That’s when she heard it, manic laughter from the final circle of hell. A slither of fear trickled down her spine, releasing a wild rush of adrenaline. Carlos?

She thought about the death of Lacy Diamond. Two Ninja assassinations were no coincidence. Sensing danger, she felt for her sword. It was gone. Panic soared through her. Where the hell was it?

The laughter got louder and louder, moving in closer and closer. It seemed to be bouncing off the walls. She couldn’t tell from which direction it was coming. Just then, the bell in the tower gonged, thundering off the walls like canon balls. Instinctively, she covered her ears with her hands. Where the hell was Michael?

Evil eyes from the face masks followed her every move. She had to escape this hell before it was too late. She couldn’t think over the gonging of the bell. Every few seconds, the werewolf howled at the moon. She screamed, even though she knew no one would ever hear her. Floundering in wild disarray, disoriented by the darkness and relentless gonging, she searched in vain for the door. Her arms swam in mid-air, like a person drowning, desperate for an anchor, something to hold onto. She reached out and grabbed at nothing. She had to find a way out of this mausoleum of the living dead before it was too late. Where the hell was Michael?

The laughter got closer. Perspiration drenched her skin. The chilling laughter echoed in her ears, louder and louder, closer and closer. The bell in the bell tower broke through the thin filament of sanity she had left. The werewolf open his mouth and howled at the moon. Where was Michael? He’d know what to do. He was a master swordsman. His fencing skills were extraordinary. He could wield a Ninja star with his  eyes closed and hit the mark. Where was he?

Blood thundered in her ears, but not loud enough to block out the manic laughter. It was close but she couldn’t see a thing. She wished she had her sword. She turned to run; it was too late. She heard a distinct click. The killer had just depressed the button on her Zorro sword, releasing the thirty-seven inch blade. His psychotic laughter reached an ear-splitting crescendo just as the bell in the tower gonged out its last
chime. From the dark shadows, Valentino pounced, her Zorro sword gleaming in the moonlight.

“Surprise!” he thrust the sword into her heart. “I promised to make you scream, darling Candace. Let me hear you scream.”


MASK OF THE BETRAYER

AVAILABLE NOW!

Whimsical Publications, LLC

www.whimsicalpublications.com


BUY LINK:

print and ebook once it's available:

http://www.whimsicalpublications.com/books.html

The Author Roast and Toast

Today is Friday, so Oliver and I, along with Hywela Lyn, Mary Ricksen, Junior and Cuddls, are over at the
Author Roast and Toast
http://authoroastandtoast.blogspot.com

Today's featured victim is Allison Chase, and the celebration is a Victorian ball. Come help us solve a mystery!

Wednesday Spotlight with Ann Yost

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! My featured guest today is Ann Yost, and she’s here to chat about

THAT VOODOO THAT YOU DO
And here she comes now.

With a jaunt to his step, Oliver escorts Ann into the parlor to join Sharon. The cherry wood log snap with sparks while the snow outdoors continues to swirl down from the sky.

Sharon: Welcome, Ann. Come and have a seat and Oliver will bring refreshments, won’t you Oliver?

Oliver offers Ann a bone-melting smile, pumps his biceps and saunters off, returning in no time with diet cokes and a plate of cheese and crackers. He winks at Ann. And, yes, my pet, it is the spreadable cheese from Trader Joe’s that you fancy. With great pizzaz, he takes the knife, spreads the cheese on a wafer and feeds it to Ann.

Ann: (eyes widened in appreciation) Omigosh, Oliver, you look like something right out of my fantasies, er, romance stories. Are you for real?

Flashing his engaging smile, Oliver pumps his biceps.

Sharon: Ah, Oliver, don’t you have work to do?
Oliver leaves, but not before treating Ann to another flex of his biceps…

Sharon: Let’s dish a bit about That Voodoo That You Do. I love the title, by the way. Was it hard for you to come up with one?

Ann: I LOVE titles. Sometimes I think I’d like to just write titles, you know, like just eating the top of the muffin? I really love old songs and often use them as inspiration. The first book I wrote was titled THE EARL THAT I MARRY. I’m afraid that title was better than the book! THAT VOODOO THAT YOU DO seemed appropriate to me because of the “magic” in the book.

Sharon holds up the book. How about a sneak preview?

The audience screams a resounding “YES!”

Blurb for: THAT VOODOO THAT YOU DO

The Runaway Bride meets Arsenic and Old Lace

An ex-bride and a divorced loner battle the past, local gossip and industrial-strength personal chemistry when they join forces to unmask an unorthodox small-town killer.

JESSIE MAYNARD: After finding her “perfect” fiancé in a compromising position she cancels her society wedding and heads to sleepy Mystic Hollow to lick her wounds and spend Christmas in the sanctuary of her late great Aunt Blanche’s vacant house.

But the storybook façade is deceptive. Behind the picket fences emotions cartwheel out of control. Bodies are piling up with suspicious alacrity at the local mortuary and the elderly members of the Tuesday Afternoon Canasta Club-turned-coven try to convince Jessie that the pastor of St. Michael’s, one Reverend Dennis Prendergast, has murdered Aunt Blanche.

Jessie’s pursuit of peace and the truth hit a brick wall in the form of a kryptonite-eyed sorcerer who invades her home, her senses and who threatens her heart.

LUKE TANNER: He’d vowed never to return to Mystic Hollow following a bitter divorce but changes his mind after a cryptic deathbed summons from his foster mother. He doesn’t mind playing midwife to Blanche’s psychic cat, Pyewacket, but he balks at his role of bodyguard for Blanche’s great niece as she launches a murder investigation with more enthusiasm than skill.

As the unlikely pair begins to uncover dark, troubling secrets in town, sparks fly between them and Jessie believes she might just find her happily ever after all. At least until Luke’s incandescent ex shows up wrapped in tinsel. It seems like déjà voodoo but Jessie knows it’s different.

This time she has to decide whether she will run away or stay and fight for the man who owns a piece of her heart.

Excerpt from THAT VOODOO THAT YOU DO
By Ann Yost
Wild Rose Press, December, 2009
www.annyost.com

Luke could hear Jessie gasping and puffing as he dragged her through the moonlit streets, past the gazebo and the town’s Christmas tree. Fueled by adrenalin and rage he ran full-out, allowing no quarter for her much shorter legs.

He vaulted up the shallow steps to Blanche’s front porch and he stopped so suddenly she slammed into him as he dug out his key. He cursed, softly. The instant they were inside he pinned her shoulders against the door.

The golden eyes held no fear, only contrition and something else that reached into his chest and settled under his heart. Her lips parted. God. Need clawed at him like an animal trapped in a box. His hands trembled and he knew there was no way he’d make it upstairs. He didn’t care if the rest of the household woke up and sold tickets. He had to have her. Now. When she put her hands on his face and slipped her tongue into his mouth he realized she wanted him, too. Thank God.

Desperate to feel her soft skin, to lose himself in her warmth, he drew her down to the polished wooden floor while his fingers fought hers for the right to unsnap his old letter jacket. Finally, finally, it was open and he reached inside.

“Shit,” he growled. “Overalls.”

“I’ve got it,” she breathed. She shoved the straps off her shoulder while he stripped off her boots. He ripped open his jeans. He knew it was gonna be close. He was wound as tightly as a rubber band. Rubber. Shit. Mabel Ruth had confiscated his condoms. Luke felt Jessie’s fingers dig into his hips. He made a half-hearted attempt to warn her.

“Jessie.”

“Don’t talk. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t think he could stop. He wanted her the way he’d wanted Crystal in the beginning, mindlessly, hopelessly, obsessively. She arched up just as he thrust into her, hard. They strained against each other, twisting and pounding their way across the waxed floor. Ah. God. She was so hot. So tight. His climax rushed at him like a runaway train. And then she yelped.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s my head. I think I hit the coat rack.”

Thunderous applause explodes

Sharon: Well, now. Let’s all grab our fans and ice water. That one’s a real scorcher, Ann. Tell us about the hero and heroine, what drives them…besides the obvious…

Ann: For Jessie, family has been everything. She’s cheerful, optimistic and has always been protective of her parents and sister and willing to do just about anything to keep the family unit in tact, including going to work for her father at Maynard Properties, Inc. She even talked herself into marrying Kit, her dad’s protégé, so her father could retire before he had another heart attack. When that idea goes off the tracks, Jessie flees to regroup, but even then, she plots to bring her family together for Christmas.

Luke, on the other hand, has had very little family life and his attempt at marriage with a beautiful but manipulative woman was a dismal failure. He intends to spend his life developing software and protecting his heart but Jessie’s warmth proves to be hard to resist.

Sharon: And the two trains shall meet. Now when I think of voodoo, I always think of the Bayou of New Orleans. Where is Sleepy Mystic Hollow and why did you choose it for your setting?

Ann: You are right! Voodoo does belong in the South. I set the story in southwestern Virginia because that’s the south to me. (I’m from Michigan). One of my favorite parts of this book is the trio of would-be witches, elderly church-going, canasta-playing ladies who, because of the disruption at their church, are willing to try something as unorthodox as witchcraft.

Sharon: So we have a serial killer stalking the elderly victims of a small town. And rather than the butler, all fingers point to the pastor. Tell us about that.

Ann: This is kind of embarrassing but we had an incident of pastoral infidelity at our church many years ago and I witnessed it almost firsthand. When it was over and the emotions died down I realized how very interesting it is when someone is expected to have superior moral behavior but is tempted, and succumbs to baser pleasures. I am also interested in the fall-out caused by dalliances and in VOODOO, the pastor’s wife is a central character, more interesting, I think, than he.

Sharon: What an interesting mix of ingredients to stir the pot. And being a cat lover, I want to hear all about this psychic cat. And she’s pregnant to boot?

Ann: I love cats, too. And dogs. I have an old golden retriever who is my constant companion and best friend. I have think people get a lot from companion pets…not just affection but introspection. Pyewacket might be a wise aspect of Luke’s personality or maybe she really is psychic. Her pregnancy gives Jessie and the reader a chance to see a tender side of ice-hearted Luke.

Sharon: I couldn’t agree more. Pets add balance to our lives and books. Would you consider Voodoo a cozy mystery? And if so, will there be more cozies coming from the town of Sleepy Mystic Hollow?

Ann: Thanks for asking, Sharon. I would consider it a cozy. My books usually have a murder/amateur detective component but, in all honesty, I think they are more cozies than romantic suspense. I may write a sequel about Jessie’s sister, a jewelry designer, who has been through a disillusioning divorce. She wound up with a wicked sense of humor and adventure and if there is another mysterious murder in Eden, she’d be the one to investigate it!

Sharon: Hmm. Sounds like a good plan in the works, something readers would love. We’ll look forward to it. Oh, here comes dessert.

Oliver struts out, pushing a sterling silver caddy, his biceps pumping. He presents a Devil’s Food cake with
a twinkle in his eye. Slicing the sinfully rich dessert, he feeds the first bite to Ann. Then he reaches for his copy
of That Voodoo That You Do.


Ann: Ah, Oliver. You may have from me whatever you want.

Sharon: Ahem. Yes, just a few more questions. So what’s next for Ann Yost?

Ann: I have a three-book series set in Eden, Maine (which, for some reason I consider romantic) near a Penobscot Reservation. The first, ABOUT A BABY, (coming out in 2010 from Wild Rose Press) concerns a veterinarian, Baz Outlaw, who is trying to win back the woman he once rejected even though that rejection caused her biological timeclock to wind down.

The second, HE LOVES LUCY, is about Baz’s much younger sister who seeks a career as a foreign correspondent, but who has fallen in love with the sheriff, a single dad, who considers her flaky and much too young.

The third, EYE OF THE TIGER LILY, was a Golden Heart finalist. It is about Cameron Outlaw, who returns after twelve years away from Eden to find he hasn’t forgotten the high school sweetheart who betrayed him. Sparks fly between him and Molly Whitecloud, the reservation midwife, as they join forces to expose corruption at the casino, but Molly has a secret; days before their reunion she underwent insemination at a Boston sperm bank and she used Cam’s sample!

I have another upcoming series about the Budd sisters of Mayville, Michigan who turn a former mortuary into a wedding boutique but are plagued with bodies that keep appearing on their doorstep or in their cupid fountain. The first book is called FOR BETTER OR HEARSE.

The audience stands and applauds Ann’s accomplishments.

Sharon: Wow! Congratulations! You are one busy lady, full of ambition and drive! Now, how about telling us about your hobby, working puzzles of quilts. I would imagine they might be hard to find?

Ann: (laughs) They are sometimes expensive. I really like any 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle. Doing them is like writing a book…all the pieces are there but putting the whole thing together involves color, shape and familiarity. When they come together they are perfect and neat the way life (and literature!) isn’t. I love quilts because of the bright colors and patterns and I love fabric but I don’t seem to have the time (or patience or eyesight) to make them anymore so quilt puzzles are kind of taking their place.

Sharon: And with the name “Voodoo” I have no doubt you can feed my own fetish of collecting superstitions, legends and lore. Can you share one with me?

Ann: You know voodoo, magic, superstitions all kind of merge with reality for me…I mean they are connected, you know? I guess I am superstitious because that old saying “Sunday’s Child is fair of face, etc.? Well, Wednesday’s child is supposed to be full of woe and so I’ve had to reject that old chestnut because my daughter, Emily was born on a Wednesday. She was also born on the thirteenth so, in my view, thirteen is a lucky number. Bottom line: I guess I kind of tweak the old superstitions so as to have less anxiety, one of my very, very top goals!

Sharon: And sadly, this brings us to the end of the hour, and to the last three trivia questions. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? If you could star as the leading lady in any film, which would it be and why? And last but not least, who would you want playing your romantic hero?

Ann: I know this sounds strange to say since I write contemporary romances but I love England – especially the Regency era. I would love to “be” Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice and I would certainly love, love, LOVE to have Colin Firth as my romantic hero. Or Peter Krause (Nate from Six Feet Under) or Cary Grant in anything or, of course, Oliver!

Oliver blows Ann a kiss and plucks a rose from the vase.

Sharon: Well, Ann, thank you for joining me today. I wish you mega sales. Before you leave, can you tell readers where they can buy your books and get in touch with you:

Ann: How nice of you to ask. First I would like to thank you for a very fun interview and the chance to spend even a few cyber minutes with Oliver. I’ll look forward to reading your imaginative interviews with other authors and your books as well! THAT VOODOO THAT YOU DO is available online at Wild Rose Press, Amazon, Border’s, Barnes & Noble, Books-a-Million and my website is www.annyost.com. It includes an email contact and I have to say I love to hear from readers more than anything. I’ve love to get to know people this way.

As Eternal Love by the Bengles softly plays in the background, Oliver sweeps Ann into his arms and takes her for a spin around the parlor, singing in her ear.

About me

My name is Ann Yost and I grew up in Ann Arbor, Michigan where I experienced my first two major disappointments when I discovered the town wasn’t named after me and that I was expected to share my idyllic four-year-old life with a pair of infant twin brothers.

I became one of those enthusiastic but perpetually self conscious pre-teens - I wrote dozens of blurbs for a childrens magazine column called Is My Face Red! – through which I learned that life’s experiences can be softened and enjoyed more in retrospect if they are written down.

The knowledge came in handy many years later when I wrote a weekly column, I Did, I Did, which helped me adjust to that rugged first year of marriage.

I loved the ten years I spent working for daily newspapers in Michigan, but especially the opportunities I had then and afterwards for participation journalism. I got to fly on apparatus for Peter Pan, to take a lesson in a small plane, to join a high school tennis team at age 30, to become (briefly) a substitute teacher and (even more briefly) a little league umpire.

I wrote about my children for newspapers and magazines until they put a stop to it by growing up.

Nowadays I love to create small town characters whose normal lives are turned upside down by jealousy, passion, and murder.

I believe it is so important to find the thing you love to do, the thing you can’t imagine living without, to, in the words of Joseph Campbell, “follow your bliss.”

I think this quote from Jonathan Winters says it all:

“I couldn’t wait for success…so I went ahead without it.”

Wednesday Spotlight with E.A. West

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! My special guest today is friend and author
E.A. WEST.
E.A. is here today to chat with us about her newest release from Sea Crest eBooks
LLIGHT IN THE DARKNESS
But first, here is a little about E.A.--followed by a blurb and excerpt.

E.A. West is a lifelong lover of books and storytelling. In high school, she discovered
the wonders of sharing her stories with others through writing. She picked up her
pen in a creative writing class and hasn’t laid it down yet. Her love of writing
encompasses a variety of fiction genres, including romance and women's fiction.
Born and raised in Indiana, she still resides there today with her family and a small
zoo of pets that includes cats, dogs, and African water frogs. When she's not writing
or reading, you're likely to find her working on her current crochet project or enjoying
the outdoors.

Blurb for Light in the Darkness:
Kennedy Drake loves exploring dark places, which makes his job as a graveyard shift
security guard ideal. While checking out strange noises
in his elderly neighbor’s basement, he discovers a hidden room with a woman trapped
inside. Chastity Mooreland has more to fear than her time trapped
in darkness. Will Kennedy believe her bizarre tale of a stalker no one thinks is guilty—and
will he help free her from a life of despair? Can Chastity look past her suspicion
of mankind to accept his offer of friendship?

Excerpt:
Kennedy went back the way he’d come and passed through
the last doorway, stopping in amazement. The huge room was lined with cobwebby wooden shelves, some of which held a few dust-covered canning jars. A pair of wooden bins with sloping lids and three old wooden barrels with age-darkened metal rings stood in the middle of the floor. He couldn’t help wondering if the room had held a year’s worth of food in the days of horse-drawn carriages. It looked large enough.

He found a switch on the wall and turned on the lights. Two of the three bulbs hanging from the
ceiling flashed bright then went out, and he made a mental note to come back later to change them. Louise likely wouldn’t ever come in her basement again, but it would give her peace of mind to know the lights worked. He set the flashlight on one of the shelves near the door and walked over to the bins and barrels. Empty. He glanced around the room one more time, not seeing anything that would make any kind of noise without human help, and there weren’t any tracks to indicate anyone had been down there in the last six months. He retrieved his flashlight and reached for the light switch. A tapping sound from the far side of the
room stilled his hand. He turned around, but all he saw were empty shelves and a
spider busily spinning a web in the corner. The tapping grew more frantic as he slowly approached the shelves.

“Hello? Is somebody there?”

The tapping stopped. “Help me! Please, get me out of here!” a hysterical female voice
called, muffled by the wood-backed shelves.

It took Kennedy a moment to recover from the
shock of actually getting a reply. “Keep tapping so I can figure out where you are.”

The tapping continued and so did the voice, though it now sounded like the
woman was crying. “Please hurry! I have to get out of here! Please...”

Sharon: Sounds like a compelling mystery to me, folks. Let’s have a warm welcome for my guest. E.A. West—come on out!

The tapping grows louder and louder, closer and closer. With a jarring creak, a trap door opens and E.A. stumbles out, her hair shrouded in a spider web. With a smile, she dusts herself off and waves madly to her gasping fans.

Sharon: What a grand entrance! Thunderous applause explodes through cyberspace as Sharon and E.A. exchange hugs. Well, grab a seat and I’ll call Oliver for refreshments. I’ll bet you’re thirsty after all that frantic tapping.

Oliver struts out, dressed as a graveyard shift security guard. With the silver tray balanced above his head, he flashes his most beguiling smile to E.A. He hands her an icy cold Dr. Pepper and a heaping basket of honey wheat pretzels and a dish of sliced carrot sticks. He clears his throat, pumps his biceps with a wicked wink and flashes his pearly whites. “If I might be so bold as to ask for your autograph, Ms. West?”

E.A.: My autograph? Why, Oliver, I’m flattered! Of course I’ll sign something for you. Will this lovely napkin do?

Sharon: Oliver, did you forget about my drink? I wouldn’t mind a diet coke. Oliver? And about my favorite snack? Potato chips? But Oliver runs off, clutching his heart.

Sharon: Sigh. Oh, he of fickle heart! So let’s talk about Light in the Darkness. That excerpt drew me right in. Tell us about the setting, the characters, the research.

E.A.: The story is set in the fictional town of Vesper, Indiana. In this excerpt, Kennedy is in his elderly neighbor’s basement. His neighbor, a sweet old lady named Louise, called him over to investigate a noise. Kennedy Drake is a nice guy who loves dark places, particularly caves, and he enjoys exploring old houses as well. The heroine of the story, Chastity Mooreland, is running scared thanks to her stalker and she thinks Kennedy doesn’t believe her story any more than the police department. Then there’s Louise Gilbert, Kennedy’s elderly neighbor. She may be tiny and old, but she’s sharp and isn’t afraid to speak her mind.

I really didn’t need to do anything in the way of research for this story. Thanks to a voracious reading habit, I had all the necessary tidbits of trivia stored away in my brain. Who knew I could use my interest in geology, history lessons on the Underground Railroad, and an addiction to mystery novels in the same story?

Sharon: What genre would you classify Light in the Darkness as?

E.A.: It’s contemporary fiction with some mystery mixed in. There’s also a tiny bit of romance hinted at, but I didn’t develop that theme.

Sharon: You know, as I’m sitting here, drawing mental images in my mind about this book, I can’t help but think about Halloween in just a few short weeks. What perfect timing! Picture it—a chilly night, a graveyard shift security guard, exploring dark places, mysterious tapping, a woman’s cries and a hot mug of apple cider. Hmmmm. How about it, folks, sound good?

A shutter bangs in the wind, a bat eeks, and a woman cries out from inside the walls….

Sharon: I must have a copy of this book. I just love a good mystery, especially around Halloween. How did you get inspired to write this story, E.A.?

E.A.: Actually, the inspiration came from an online contest a couple of years ago. The only requirements were that the story be less than ten thousand words and involve a basement. The basement part intrigued me, so I let my imagination run with it.

Sharon: I love the names of your characters. Kennedy and Chastity. Did they just come to you—or did you have to think about them long and hard?

E.A.: Surprisingly, they just came to me. Sometimes I’ll go through two or three, or more, names until I find one I like for a character, but with Kennedy and Chastity, I knew those were the perfect names for the characters right away.

Sharon: Now this book is an eBook. Do you have a preference to print or eBooks and if so, why?

E.A.: I like both of them for different reasons. Ebooks are great for short stories and for instant gratification, not to mention the tiny amount of space needed to store dozens of them. I love the feel of a print book, plus it’s nice to get away from a screen for a while to read.

Sharon: Now let’s…what is that noise? It sounds like an eerie whistle snaking through the corridor. Or like the wind hurling through the trees before a storm. Oh, dear! Is a tornado coming? Let’s make a run for it down to the basement. Quick, E.A. But the eerie humming gets louder and louder, reaching an ear-splitting crescendo. Then Oliver appears, belting out a Bob Dylan song in a scratchy, nasally monotone. He plants himself in front of E.A.
“How many roads must a man walk down…before you call him a man? The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind…the answer is blowin’ in the wind.”

With a sweeping bow, Oliver presents E.A. with a huge slice of Molten Lava cake. Using the culinary skills he was trained with, he forks up a piece and feeds E.A.

E.A.: Mm...this is excellent! Oliver, how much is Sharon paying you? I’ll double it if you’ll make Molten Lava cake (minus the calories, of course) and serenade me with your wonderful singing. Might I have another taste of that delicious treat?

Sharon: (sighs as Oliver readily obliges) That will be quite enough, Oliver. Go away so I can continue my interview with Ms. West. Oliver winks and leaves, blowing E.A. kisses.

Sharon: One of these days…So back to our questions before we were so rudely interrupted. Tell us a little about your hobbies when not reading or writing. What kind of things do you like to knit and crochet?

E.A.: Well, for knitting, I’m currently working on an entrelac scarf. Probably not the best project for a beginner, but I’m enjoying it and learning a lot. As for crochet, I’ve fallen in love with adorable crocheted toys called amigurumi.

Sharon: And you love animals. What kind of cats and dogs do you have? And exactly what is an African water frog?

E.A.: I have two cats, a beautiful gray tabby girl named Annie and an adorable black tabby kitten boy named Sergei. One of my dogs is a sweet female shar-pei cross named Sashimi. The other is Mocha, a male shih tzu who loves squeaky toys. An African water frog is a species of frog that lives solely in water. They have to come to the surface to breathe, but they can hold their breath for an amazingly long time. I have two in my house: a regular one named Kermit and a dwarf named Hoppy. Both are male and have the most soothing croak! It’s reminiscent of a rusty gate creaking in the breeze.

Sharon: (stops as her black cat Freddie leaps from her lap and into E.A.’s) And I must ask. I adore superstitions, legends and lore and traditions. Can you share one of yours with me for my collection?

E.A.: A legend I recently came across is the Apache story of why bats hang upside down.

Long ago, Coyote wanted a wife, but he didn't know who to choose. Bat suggested he take the wife of Hawk Chief, who had not been seen for many days. Hawk Chief returned and was angry with Bat for giving bad advice. He slung Bat into a juniper bush. Bat's long, pointy-toed moccasins got caught and he hung upside down, unable to get free no matter how much he struggled. From that time on, bats have hung upside down, even when asleep.

Sharon: I love it and will add it to my collection. Thank you! And sadly, that brings us to the end of another Wednesday Spotlight. But before I let you go, I have my three questions. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? If you could star in any literary fiction, which would it be and why? And last but not least, who would you want playing your romantic hero and why?

E.A.: If I could live anywhere, it would probably be a Midwestern farm with some woods and plenty of pastureland. Not exciting or exotic, I know, but I’m a farm girl at heart and would love to own some horses and ducks. Hm, literary fiction...that’s a tough one. Maybe The Three Musketeers. I love that story and the loyalty the characters show each other, not to mention the action and adventure. Who would I want for my romantic hero? There are so many to choose from! I think I’d have to go with Ben Barnes. He was awesome as Prince Caspian. Or maybe Philip Winchester. He did a marvelous job playing Robinson Crusoe.

Sharon: Thank you, E.A. It has indeed been a pleasure. I hope you come back again. Good luck with Light in the Darkness. I can’t wait to pick up my copy. Where can readers buy this book and where can they read about your other books and get in touch with you?

E.A.: Readers can purchase Light in the Darkness here: http://shop.dianakaypublishing.com/product.sc?productId=16&categoryId=1

For more information about my writing or to contact me, visit my website at: http://eawest.mcphitty.com

Thank you, Sharon, for having me! I’ve had a wonderful time. And, Oliver, you’ve provided such marvelous service. Should you ever decide to leave Sharon’s employ, you can always come work for me.

Oliver grins a wicked grin and winks!