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.”

The Author Roast

Hello! Well, it's Friday, which means you will find Oliver and I, along with Hywela Lyn and Cuddles, as well as Mary Ricksen and Junior over at
The Author Roast and Toast
http://authorroastandtoast.blogspot.com

Today's featured victim is Raine Delight and the scene is a Forbidden Forest. Come join the fun!

Wednesday Spotlight with Barbara Edwards

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! Today’s featured guest is Barbara Edwards. Barbara is here to chat with us about her highly acclaimed book

ANCIENT AWAKENINGS

With a beautiful winter wonderland backdrop of swirling snowflakes, the cherry log in the hearth snaps, sending brilliant orange spears shooting upward like sorcerer’s flames. And when the doorbell rings, Oliver dashes off, plucking a rose from the vase. A moment later, he escorts a starry-eyed Barbara into the parlor and she takes a seat in front of the fire.

Sharon: Hello, Barbara. And how are you on this wintry day?

Barbara: Glad to be here with you. The fire is wonderful. She relaxes, cradling the rose on her lap.

Dressed in his black t-shirt and low rider jeans, Oliver saunters in, pushing a sterling silver caddy. Casting Barbara a wicked wink, he serves her a gin martini with two olives. She regretfully waves away the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Pumping his biceps, he plucks up his copy of Ancient Awakenings and flashes his bone-melting smile. Might I have your autograph, love?

Barbara: Anything you desire, Oliver. She gives him a sultry smile before she signs with a flourish.

And while Barbara is drooling over Oliver, here is a blurb and excerpt of Ancient Awakenings:

In Ancient Awakening, Police Officer ‘Mel’ Petersen investigates a death only she believes is murder. By disobeying direct orders from the Rhodes End Chief, she risks her career to follow clues that twist in circles to her backyard and lead the killer to her.

Her neighbor Stephen Zoriak is a prime suspect. Steve worked for a major pharmaceutical company where he discovered a weapon so dangerous he destroys the research. He is exposed to the dangerous organism. He suspects he is the killer and agrees to help her find the truth.
In the course of their investigation Mel and Steve find the real killer and a love that defies death.

Excerpt:
“Don’t touch me, Mel, not unless you’re willing to do a lot more,” he warned as her hazel eyes flared golden.

“Don’t threaten me, Steve. You’re…”

He pulled her into his arms despite the alarm bells clanging in his head.
Danger! Danger! Danger!

Her widened eyes met his. Mel’s hands were trapped against his chest, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt.

Her mistake. His mistake was to crush her mouth under his.
Mel’s soft lips parted. Need exploded. The taste of black coffee didn’t hide her sweet flavor. As her tongue tangled with his, her arms slid around his neck and her fingers burrowed through his hair.

Steve hungered to peel the starched shirt off her soft shoulders, lay her on the thick turf and ease his desire. He tasted her brows, her cheek, along her throat, seeking the source of her call. Her pulse whipped under his mouth, awakening another need.
His teeth gently closed on the vulnerable vein.
He wanted, wanted, wanted…

Cold alarm chilled his pounding blood. Steve gasped for air. He’d forgotten his own ironclad rule. Mel’s eyelids flittered open to reveal the molten glow of desire but he forced himself free.
He had no right to touch any woman. Not until he knew he hadn’t become what he had set out to destroy.

Sharon: Interesting and very intriguing. It draws us right in. So tell us a little about the heroine and the romantic hero of your book.

Barbara: My heroine ‘Mel’ is a strong, independent woman with no imagination. When she finds a murder can’t be solved by normal means, she is baffled. My hero ‘Steve’ is hunting a cure for a terrible curse. He craves blood and can no longer tolerate many foods, he is experiencing black-outs, and his night vision is sharpening along with his sense of smell. He fears what he may be doing during the black-outs.

Oliver takes this moment to grin, his eyes glowing as he sips a glass of red wine.
Sharon: And where did you get the idea for this storyline?

Barbara: I had a nightmare about the cemetery next to where I lived as a child. I meet Steve and Mel there and knew the end to their story. I started writing it the next morning.

Sharon: Oooh…I have chills. And tell me, do you put pieces of your own life into stories? And if so, anything you would like to share with us?

Barbara: My life is too boring to write about, but I do use what I learn from a number of sources. My stories are from my dreams.

Sharon: (clasps her heart and gasps) I love it! Have you written in other genres?
Barbara: Oh yes, I’ve been looking for my niche for a long time. I have two Historical Romances. The first is another Love set in 1892 New England, with dirty politicians kidnapping a child; the second is Annie’s Heart in 1872 Kansas about a widowed mother and a wandering cowboy. I also have a Romantic suspense Rachel’s Rescue set in contemporary Sudan about a doctor and the federal agent sent to protect her.

Sharon: Hmm. Sounds really good. What’s next for Barbara Edwards?

Barbara: The next book set in Rhodes End is almost ready for my editor, with two more in the works. I have a romance and a romantic comedy half-done.

Sharon: Well, good luck with all that. My goodness! Now, let’s talk about you. You’re married to a retired police sergeant and have a joint interest in target shooting. These sound like a writer’s dream for research. Do you incorporate both into your writing?

Barbara: My husband is my best source for police procedures, the way they think and react. He’s really good at the ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ look when he disagrees with how I have a male react.

Sharon: LOL And you love to visit museum, galleries and battlefields for your research. Can you share a few of your most interesting and unique finds?

Barbara: I recently visited the Charleston museum and saw the 150 years of wedding gowns display. It was fascinating to study the real items and gave me several facts I might be able to use.

Sharon: I would love that! You truly are a Jill of all trades. And tell us about when you taught romance at a community college.

Barbara: Students are the best source of enthusiasm. They asked questions about things I’d forgotten I knew and that made my own work improve. I’d love to do move, but since we started camping for months, I can’t fit it into my schedule.

Sharon: And if that isn’t enough, you grow antique roses, a favorite hobby of mine. What kind of roses are in your garden?

Barbara: I wish I knew. They were gifts. I’m searching for the names, but that is also on the back burner. I have a beautiful pink that blooms until the snow; an open purple that smells like heaven but slows blooming in August and a tightly wound red that looks like a crumpled tissue and smells sweet.

Sharon: Well, they sound gorgeous, very vintage rose. Not to forget your pet. Tell us about your furry baby.

Barbara: Dixie is an eighty pound Belgian Malinois that wants to be a lap dog. She is the only reason I get any exercise. She demands regular walks and since she is incredibly smart, I don’t argue with her.

Sharon: Well, sadly, this brings us to the end of our hour. Before you go, can you share a favorite legend, tradition or superstition with me?

Barbara: Since the snow is still falling, I’ll tell you about a New England farmer trick I learned when I researched Another Love. Each farm had a fire pond for obvious reasons. During the warm months, the farmer caught wandering turtles and drilled a hole high in the shell. He’d place the turtle in the fire pond. The turtle couldn’t escape since the hole would cause it to die from dehydration. In the late winter, when the meat supply was running low, the farmer’s wife harvested the turtles for soup. If they weren’t needed, they grew another year.

Sharon: Thank you so much for joining us today on Wednesday Spotlight. I wish you much luck with sales and in your writing. Where can readers buy Ancient Awakenings and learn more about you?

Barbara: First I want to thank both you and Oliver for a delightful visit.
Readers can find Ancient Awakening, a Black Rose at www.TheWildRosePress.com
Print ISBN: 1-60154-552-5
Print ISBN 13: 9781601545527
Or visit my website http://www.barbaraedwards.net/ for excepts and buy buttons.
Check my blog for very intermittent posts at http://barbaraedwards.net/blog/blog.asp for Barb'Ed Comments

BIO
I’m Barbara Edwards and I’m a native New Englander. I’m a graduate of the University of Hartford with a Master’s degree in Public Administration. I write poetry for myself and novels when I need to tell a longer tale. I’m fascinated by the past so naturally turned to writing historical romance. The dark paranormal stories evolve from nightmares. The romance comes from my belief in people’s basic goodness and longing for love.
I lived in Florida for several years and am past president of the Central Florida Romance Writers and a member of Romance Writers of America.

When I returned to Connecticut, I founded the Charter Oak Romance Writers, a Chapter of Romance Writers of America, along with several close friends.
My husband is a retired Police Sergeant. We share an interest Civil War re-enacting and travel the Eastern states to participate in events. I love visiting museums, galleries and battle sites, gathering information for my stories.

I taught Romance Writing at Manchester Community college for three years.
I’m fond of gardening and growing antique roses with limited success.
Most of my exercise is when my Belgian Shepherd, Dixie, demands a walk.

Valentine Traditions and Legends

So, it looks like we have six more weeks of winter, but that makes us six months closer to spring! And with Valentine’s Day just around the corner, here are a few legends associated with the feast day.

ST. VALENTINE OF ROME i
According to legend, Valentine was a priest in Rome that lived during the reign of Emperor Claudius II. Under his regime, Claudius is said to have engaged Rome in several bloody battles, constantly recruiting soldiers to strengthen his army. Men with families were not keen to leave family attachments. So to sever family ties, Claudius cancelled all marriages and engagements in Rome. Valentine, a true romantic at heart, arranged secret marriages. When Claudius discovered Valentine’s defiance, he was executed on February 14 about 270 ad. By middle ages, Valentine became recognized as the patron saint of love.

ST. VALENTINE OF ROME II
Another legend suggests that Valentine was a Christian priest who was very popular with children. During his life, Roman regime was not in favor of Christianity and Christians were persecuted for their beliefs. In spite of this law, Valentine refused to worship false gods and continued to practice his faith. This enraged Claudius II and he put Valentine in prison. During his imprisonment, children visited Valentine, tossing letters and flowers between his cell bars. Valentine is said to have written back, signing his letters, “From your Valentine.” When he was beheaded for his Christian beliefs, the exchange of letters and flowers continued in his name.

BIRDS MATING TIME
During the middle Ages, people of England and France held a popular belief that birds began looking for a mate on February 14th. The romantic notion bloomed and the day was soon celebrated between lovers with the exchange of spring flowers, candy and small gifts.

However you celebrate Valentine’s Day, wishing you a happy day!

Looking for a sweet book to read?

If you like a sweet inspirational with a touch of paranormal, Touched by an Angel might be what you’re looking for. And with Valentine’s Day, it’s a definite Cupid read! It received 5 Cups from CTR, 5 Books from LASR, a You Need to Read rating from YGR and is a highly recommended read from the reviewers of Manic Readers. Touched by an Angel was a nominee for book of the week at LASR. It can be purchased at White Rose Publishing:
www.whiterosepublishing.com

Blurb
On the eve of his wife’s death anniversary, Charles is as restless as the coming storm. Surrounded by the stillness of the Mojave Desert, he contemplates suicide. But just as he is about to jump, he hears the sweet voice of his wife, telling him it’s not his time. But when Charles meets Emma, whose resemblance to his wife is hauntingly striking, he is drawn to her. And when they discover their spouses have died on the same day and are buried side by side in the same cemetery, a spiritual bonding occurs that neither can deny. Is this fate—or is Cupid shooting arrows from the sweet hereafter?

Excerpt

As the sun set over the Mojave Desert, the Sierra Nevada Mountains were roughly defined against a dramatic sky of crimson and lavender blue. The warm breeze undulated through the ponderosa pines, sounding like the wise old whispers of the Indians buried thousands of feet below in the windblown sands. A vulture hovered high above the foothills, an eerie screech foreboding as it circled the canyon.

Easing his midnight blue SUV around the horseshoe bend in the sloping ridge, Charles thought about his wife. Jill had died two years ago of cancer and the following day was the anniversary of her death. Frustrated, his eyes filled with tears. His vision blurred and he swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He was angry at the whole world and at God.

His heart was breaking. What kind of a God would take away the love of his life, his reason for
living? How was he supposed to go on living when the best part of him was gone? More tears spilled down his cheeks. He wanted Jill back. He needed her and wanted her with him, where she belonged. He envisioned her out in her rose garden, clipping and pruning them to sheer perfection. How she’d loved the yellow rose, and as much as he used to love them, he didn’t any more. Baskets and baskets of yellow roses had been crammed into the funeral home, permeating the air with the funereal smell of death.

She was so pretty. Her serene green eyes were the color of the sea. He pictured her digging her hands in the rich fertile soil, looking so peaceful and content. Bathed in sunlight, she had the face of an angel. She had a mega-watt smile that totally beguiled him. No matter how hot or humid it was, she always looked fresh and lovely. She had a habit of toying with a strand of her long blonde hair, twirling it between her fingers until it waved. Under the amber glow of the hot desert sun, it flickered like wildfire. Lord, he missed that woman.

As Charles drove deeper into the foothills, the terrain became noticeably rougher, more uncultivated. The air hummed with just a hint of danger. The pioneer spirit of the Wild West was still palpable as burros and wild horses galloped amidst the sloping landscape. How he missed those long afternoon drives through the wilderness with Jill, imagining what life must have been like in the days of the Wild, Wild West.

More memories of Jill flashed through his mind, filling him with a deep sense of foreboding sadness. Tears streamed down his cheeks. The desolate road weaving in and out of the canyon was flanked with sagebrush and tumbleweed, and deep in the underbrush, mountain lions and bobcats roamed free. A coyote yipped in the distance, its howling wail slicing through the thick humid air.

As the sun disappeared behind the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the sky blended into a menagerie of pale peach, rich magenta, and deep indigo. Charles thought of all the sunsets he’d seen with Jill. All those good times, better times. She should be here to watch the sunset with him. Why wasn’t she? Why did she have to die? He felt so betrayed. Life wasn’t fair.

White hot fury bubbled up inside him until it erupted like a quaking volcano. Pulling off to the
side of the road, he hopped out of his vehicle. He stared up at the heavens and shook his fist at God. He wanted answers. He needed answers. Angry and frustrated, he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“Why did you take my Jill from me?” his voice echoed across the canyon. “How could you take the love of my life away? How could you? How could a loving God do something so cruel? I love her! I want her here with me! I want her back!”

The air carried with it the scent of a coming storm. Thunder exploded in the distance.
A desert storm was closing in on the Mojave. The wind rippled through the surrounding Joshua trees. The mournful cry of a desert thrasher sliced through the night. Charles was as restless as the approaching storm. He looked down. The hillside gave way to steep ravines, tumbling down over rugged cliffs to the valley below. The only thing separating him from a drop of several thousand feet was a mound of crumbled rock. He took a step closer. Just as he was about to jump, a flash of lightning illuminated the sky. He thought he saw Jill. Pellets of hard rain pounded on his back, soaking him to the bone. He blinked several times, but whatever he’d seen was gone. Thunder exploded in the sky, the sound ricocheting through the heavens. Over the rumbling, he heard Jill’s sweet melodic voice. “No, Charles. Don’t jump. It’s not your time.”

Touched by an Angel
Available
www.whiterosepublishing.com

Sharon Donovan
Romantic Suspense with a Twist of Faith
www.sharonadonovan.com

Lasting Love
www.whiterosepublishing.com

The Claddagh Ring
2009 CAPA nominee
www.whiterosepublishing.com


To sign up for Sharon’s newsletter and to read excerpts, reviews and release dates, visit her website
www.sharonadonovan.com

Her blog:
http://sharondonovan.blogspot.com

email:
sharonad@comcast.net

On Angels Wings

Nearly three weeks ago, I nearly lost my mother. Her health has been failing for the past few years, and every day seems to present a new challenge. About a year ago, she asked me who she was. A pang so sharp pierced my heart. I got her some orange juice and a cookie and sat with her, and a few minutes later, she was fine. I thought it a combination of too many prescription pills, her age and several other conditions I’d studied when training for my certificate in medical transcription. Some things are just too painful to recognize and our subconscious refuses to let them in.

But what I witnessed a few weeks ago will stay with me for a long, long time. She was sitting on the sofa, taking off her socks and shoes, her words muffled and slightly slurred. The obvious thing that flashed through my mind was that she was having a stroke. I asked her if she knew who she was and she did. But the more I quizzed her, the more agitated she became, and before long, she began to tremble. I held her left hand and it was so limp it brought tears to my eyes. Then she got a death grip on me and squeezed it for all she was worth. Then it went completely limp and she began to convulse. It had to be the most terrifying thing I’d ever experienced.

We called the paramedics and there initial reaction was that she was having a stroke. Then her head rolled to the back of the sofa and she slipped into a state of unconsciousness. Feeling helpless and completely vulnerable, all I could do was pray. And in the many crisis in my life, I have always turned to the angels. I feel their presence and believe they hear our prayers and take them to God on their gossamer wings.

My mom was in a coma in intensive care for twelve hours. When she came to, her family was all around her. She recognized us and although confused to her whereabouts, seemed to be in pretty good shape, all things considered. Her neurologist told us her cat scan ruled out a stroke. His diagnosis was epilepsy. My mom had an epileptic seizure once close to fifty years ago. Ten years ago, her doctor took her off her anti-seizure medication. This bothered me, but I placed it in God’s hands. I always feared she might have another seizure and she did. Now she is on a less invasive type of medication to prevent seizures, but Mom is not happy about taking more pills.

Due to some balance issues and walking difficulties, her neurologist strongly suggested putting Mom in a nursing home for a few weeks for rehabilitation where they could address her needs. This was very hard and for those of you who have been there, visiting a loved one in a nursing home is a guilt trip. They don’t want to be there any more than we want them there. So once more, I called on my angels to carry my burden to God’s ears.

Yesterday, my mother came home. She will have a home nurse and a rehab counselor until she is stronger. She seems so fragile and reminds me of the fragility of life. Count your blessings and make every day count. Life truly does come full circle when our parents become our children, our responsibility.

Sharon Donovan
Romantic Suspense with a Twist of Faith
www.sharonadonovan.com
sharonad@comcast.net

Wednesday Spotlight with Lynne Roberts

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! Today’s featured guest is Lynne Roberts. Lynne is here to chat with us about her hot off the press release of

AFTER HOURS
Published by the Wilder Rose Press

Let’s have a warm welcome for Lynne Roberts! As Smooth by Carlos Santana plays on the stereo, Oliver escorts Lynne into the parlor with a few smooth moves of his own. Pulling her close, he glides her across the cherrywood floor, gazing into her eyes while singing in her ear. When the song ends, he leaves with a departing wink.

Sharon: Have a seat in front of the roaring fire. So, how are you, Lynne?

Lynne: Forces her gaze away from the departing Oliver. “Much better now, thanks. And very glad to be here.”

Oliver saunters in, pushing the sterling silver caddy. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee fills the room. With great pizzaz, he sets dainty napkins on the coffee table, cups and saucers and a plate of chocolate covered pretzels. Pouring coffee into two cups, he locks eyes with Lynne.

How do you like your coffee, love?

Lynne:”Strong and hot. Thank you.”

Sharon Thank you, Oliver. That will be all. Oliver struts off to the bookcase for his copy of After Hours. Plucking a fountain pen from the Queen Anne desk, he presents it to Lynne. If I might be so bold as to get your autograph, Lynne? He pumps his biceps.

Lynne:”My first autograph! This is so exciting.” Signs her name with a flourish.

Sharon: Oliver, is something burning in the kitchen? Sigh. Good help and all that. Well, one of these days. So, Lynne. Let’s dish about After Hours. Sounds like a real scorcher. Hmm. Tell us a little background.

Lynne: The initial spark for After Hours came when I was at a stoplight taking my daughter to school. This male walked across the cross-walk. No, he prowled across that street, and I watched… until I realized he was heading to the high school. I vacillated between wanting to watch him until he was out of sight and wanting to wash out my eyes. He couldn’t have been older than 17. But that got my imagination going, and that is the number one tool of the writer. From there, I determined a beginning, middle and end and started writing.

Sharon: And that’s all it takes for writers, isn’t it? A spark to get us going. Now, how about a sneak preview:

Thunderous applause explodes through cyber space.

Blurb: Elle Simpson doesn’t deny that the new intern is sexy as hell but he’s also ten years her junior--and she doesn’t date men from the office. Of course, dating isn’t what comes to mind when David Nelson enters a room. When Elle’s boss assigns her to work an important account, she’s thrilled—until David volunteers to help.

Working one on one with her desirable new assistant is bound to test the limits of her restraint.

Everything about Elle, from her professional savvy to her hot body, turns David on, but first he has to unravel her mixed signals. After a few late nights alone with Elle in the office, David is at the end of his tether. It was hard enough during the day; keeping his hands off her after hours is proving impossible.

Excerpt:

Some men simply walk across a room, but not David.

Elle Simpson watched from her office as the new intern, his hips moving in a predatory
roll, strolled to the copier and stood with his back toward her. No, not David. She felt the color rise in her cheeks as her gaze traced his body, from the dark hair just curling at the nape of his neck, past wide shoulders, to the dangerous-looking narrow hips and an ass made for grabbing. Her body warmed and her inner thighs began to tingle.

David turned, as though he could sense her scrutiny, and flashed a smile that could short-circuit a city. Hell, it certainly did a number on her. Elle swallowed, hiding behind a noncommittal nod, and hoped she gave the impression she was too busy for pleasantries. Damn. She needed to be more careful.

After many years with the company, she’d earned her reputation as a dependable, hardworking,
no-nonsense kind of woman. She grimaced. What would her fellow employees think if they knew every time David Nelson walked in the room, Elle’s synapses stopped firing as all the blood left her head to settle between her legs? She shifted on her chair and the friction caused her pussy to ache, reminding her of its neglected state.

Evidently finished with the copier, David gathered his papers and walked back to his cubicle. Elle tilted her head to better watch him walk down the hall. A damn sexy man. Perhaps he’d been born with some sort of exclusive hip design. It would explain the fluidity of movement.

Elle shrugged. One thing was certain—when David walked into a room, or out of it, he had her undivided attention. She didn’t think he was trying to be sexy, or if he was, the effort had become, well...effortless. There was just something in the way those well-oiled hips moved that made her wonder what else they could do.

Sharon: Well, now. This sounds like a very hot read. No wonder Oliver is in there burning the house down while reading it! My goodness. So tell us all about this young and sexy intern.

Lynne: David is young, but old enough to know what he wants and what he wants is Elle. He’s just not sure if she feels the same about him. He’s tired of dating women who don’t quite know what they want out of life, or who are still into the club scene. He wants a woman who knows what she’s doing. That woman is Elle.

Sharon: And now tell us about Elle. What drives her? What’s earned her a fine reputation in the company?

Lynne: After her husband died, Elle threw herself into her career and raising her daughter. Once her daughter went off to college, she discovered her career didn’t quite fill the silence. She wanted more, but she wasn’t quite sure what, until she met David.

Sharon: And the hot intern is ten years her junior. Let’s talk about that. How do you address the age difference through each point of view?

Lynne: Elle had to get over some insecurity and self-imposed rules before she could let go and look past the number. David didn’t have as much of a problem. His only fear was rejection. Would she want him?

Sharon: And how about you, Lynne. Do you think age should be an issue for either gender?

Lynne: Ten years ago, I would have told you I’d never date a younger man, but as I’ve… matured, I’m not closed to the possibility. LOL So no, I don’t think age should matter as long as both parties are consenting adults. I was 20 years younger than the man in my last relationship. So a man 20 years younger? Why not?

Sharon: Absolutely. Too much emphasis is sometimes put on age.

Oliver is back, humming to the Santana hit. Poised above his head on a silver tray is a chocolate cream pie in a Graham Cracker crust. Placing it on the table, he slices and serves, feeding the first bite to Lynne. While waiting for her to stop drooling, he refills the coffee and pumps his biceps.

Lynne: Yummy. Thank you. One just can’t get enough chocolate.

Oliver struts off, a jaunty deliverance to his step.

Sharon: Now let’s talk about Lynne Roberts. You have five children? My goodness. Tell us how you fit everything into your busy life? When do you find time to write?

Lynne: Now that my youngest is in pre-school, I write like mad in the morning and edit in the evening after dinner. Even so, you have to make sacrifices, one of mine is a spotless house. So you know, if you ever get tired of Oliver, I could use him.

Sharon: (rolls her eyes) And you love to tinker in the garden with veggies and flowers. With spring hopefully around the corner, my favorite will be blooming. The lilac. What do you like to plant?

Lynne: Everything! I love to garden. I have a small vegetable patch where I grow salad. LOL. You know: lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, green onions and such. As I’ve gotten busier, I’ve learned to appreciate a low maintenance plant, so I have more hydrangea and geranium than I used to. I also have a lilac. They bloom around the same time as my citrus trees and fill the back yard with an amazing scent combination. Did I mention I have 8 fruit trees? Yeah, it gets hectic around July.

Sharon: Mmm. I love fruit trees, and there is nothing like home-grown tomatoes and green beans. So, what’s next for you in the writing world?

Lynne: I have a short under consideration right now and I’m preparing a novella for submission—which means I’m finishing the dreaded query and synopsis. I also have two novellas with beta readers that I will be submitting before summer vacation.

Sharon: Well, our hour is just about up. But before you leave, you must indulge me with a favorite legend or superstition. I collect them from all my guests. Do you have one to share?

Lynne: Oh, my grandmother had lots of superstitions. I’d love to share one: When you leave a house, always go out the same door you came in or you’ll bring unwelcome visitors to the home.

Sharon: And finally, my three trivia questions. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? If you could star in any literary film, which would it be and why? And last but not least, who would you want playing your romantic hero?

Lynne: If I could live anywhere in the world… I’m a west coast girl. I’d live near the beach with the forest in my backyard.

Do they make literary films any more? I think I’d like to play the female lead in a movie made from any of The Black Dagger Brotherhood books. Why? The actors they hire to play any of the brothers would be drop dead gorgeous. Spending your day surrounded by hunky men? I’d suffer through it. As far as my romantic lead, this almost seems to contradict the last answer, but I have a secret crush on Jared Leto, so I’d have to say him.

Sharon: Thank you for joining me today on Wednesday spotlight. It’s been a pleasure. Now let’s all run out and get our hot little hands on After Hours. Where can readers purchase your books and get in touch with you?

Lynne: You can purchase my books at The Wilder Rose Press and you can find me at my website http://lynneroberts.net or my blog: http://lynneroberts.blogspot.com. I’m also on Twitter, Facebook and Goodreads. Please stop by and say hi! I’d love to hear from you.

bio:
Lynne Roberts wrote her first story out of frustration at the age of 11 because,
darn it, Gone with the Wind just couldn’t end with Rhett and Scarlett not together.
She honestly believes in love, which makes her a hopeless romantic and she’s definitely
a sucker for a happy ever after.

She’s been writing professionally since 2005 and is now published by The Wilder Rose Press.

A hopeless coffee-addict, when she’s not writing, editing or reading—which isn’t often—you can find her in the garden or with her five children.

A Trip to Lincoln Park Zoo with Oliver

Strolling through the park on a bright, sunny morning, hand in hand with the lovely Fiona, Oliver grins his beguiling smile.

“What do you say we go by the Lincoln Park Zoo. It’s been years since I’ve been to a zoo, and I hear it’s a real Chicago tourist attraction. Are you up for it, my sweet?”

“Oh, I’d love to,” Fiona said, batting her eyes at Oliver. “I was just reading an article about the polar bears. Apparently, bear siblings compete with each other while swimming. Let’s go.”

Oliver takes off with a jaunty deliverance, beaming. “This I’ve got to see.”

Shrouded by the magnificent Chicago skyline, Lincoln Park Zoo stretched for miles along Lake Michigan. One of the oldest zoos in the world, attracting more than three million visitors a year, it featured North American wildlife, consisting of black bear, red wolves, beaver and river otters. The African Apes showcase the endangered gorillas and chimpanzees, while the African Journey fully replicated the sights and sounds of some of the world’s rare and exotic creatures as pygmies, dwarf crocodiles and wild dogs, along with elephants, giraffes, black rhinos and hippos.

Enjoying the curious gorillas behind the massive glass paneling, Oliver and Fiona couldn’t help but laugh.

“They’re so curious,” Fiona said, pulling out her camera. “Look at that one in the corner, he looks so mischievous.”

Oliver waved to him, noting his name was Curious George. Spotting Oliver, George loped over to the glass and pressed his
mug to the glass. In true spirit, Oliver pressed his mug nose to nose. Pretty soon, other apes and chimpanzees gathered to watch, staring at Oliver.

Oliver winked at Fiona. “Watch this.”

Giving a stunning performance, Oliver grinned broadly, pumped his biceps and took a sweeping bow. Monkey see, monkey do, all the gorillas and chimps followed suit, grinning and pumping their biceps. In unison, they took a sweeping bow.






“Ah, yes,” Oliver puts an arm around Fiona as they left “All in a day’s work.”
He reached into his pocket for Fiona's favorite treat.

“Have a stick of red licorice, my sweet, and let’s go ride the carousel to finish our day."

Wednesday Spotlight with Candace Morehouse

Suspense author Michael Davis and romance writer Candace Morehouse combined their experience to create the romantic suspense novel, VEIL OF DECEPTION, which explores gender-driven conflicts & the premise that Sometimes truth cuts deeper than a lie.

Blurb:
There’s something suspicious going on at Spenser Lake, Virginia. People are disappearing and their bodies are never found. The fear and uncertainty of who will be next is affecting every resident of the tranquil community, but especially Kurt Hawkins. Two years after his wife goes missing, there are no clues, only the nightmares of what happened in her last moments. The constant guilt that somehow he was responsible precludes any thought of a normal life until he meets Danielle Gillette, a reclusive author with a rather large skeleton in her own closet. When the secret is finally revealed, they both discover that sometimes the truth cuts deeper than a lie.

Excerpt
Danielle smiled slightly. She was the intruder on nature’s deadly game, not the other way around. She shook her head, clearing out the cobwebs, as she took one final hamstring stretch with the help of the porch railing and then set out on her morning ritual – a jog along the scenic path following the lake.

It didn’t take long for her feet to find their rhythm. Danielle adjusted the ear buds of her iPod briefly, humming subconsciously to the Toby Keith tune playing, I Ain’t As Good As I Once Was. She followed the inlets and outlets of the lake, glancing every now and then at the profusion of houses – all graced with expansive porches facing the water and most of them ostentatiously large. She never could figure out why folks were so eager to build the biggest structures possible; all those empty rooms left unoccupied most of the year when the summer vacationers returned home to the city, all that unused solitary space that had to be cleaned.

Before she realized it, she was flush with the back porch of her best friend’s house. Marina was sitting in a silvered wooden deck chair; a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She spotted Danielle and waved through her last puff of smoke while she took a sip from her favorite, old, cracked mug.

Danielle ran in place for a few steps before accessing the porch via a set of stairs ascending from the lake pathway up to the porch. Danielle drew a chair up next to Marina and plopped down, wiping a hand across her dewy forehead and pulling the buds off her ears.

“Coffee’s right there on the table, hon, help yourself. You know the routine.” Danielle pulled the thermal container closer and poured some of the steaming coffee into an empty mug identical to the one cuddled in Marina’s hands. It was thick and off-white, devoid of decoration, but sporting an intricate network of stained micro cracks distributed across the surface. The hairline cracks in the porcelain glaze conveyed a pattern similar to the wrinkles and crevices in Marina’s face, the effect of years of chain smoking. Even with all its cracks and stains, its worn and imperfect exterior, the old cup was still strong and dependable– much like Marina herself.

Marina’s eyebrows rose over the rim of her mug. She put down her cup and emitted a low whistle. “Do you see what I see? Hubba, hubba.”

Danielle’s eyes followed her friend’s gaze towards the lake. A male swimmer was coming up out of the water to sit on the edge of Marina’s boat dock just a few yards down from the porch. The man flicked water from his longish, dark hair and droplets sprayed out into the morning air, briefly sparkling against the rising sun before falling back into the lake. His arms were braced straight against the pier and Danielle could see the clearly defined muscles, long and firm. His back and shoulders were incredibly broad and narrowed down to a flab-less waist which disappeared into a pair of swim trunks not much bigger than the tiny pieces of Lycra worn by professional divers.

At this angle, the swimmer’s strong profile was canted out from the creek toward the main lake, but what Danielle could see was rather alluring and strangely familiar.

It was him. The man she had seen around town, up at Ruth’s place, but usually planted in the lounge chair on his deck staring off in the distance and searching for something that wasn’t there.

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! Please welcome my friend and one of the authors of Veil of Deception, Candace Morehouse. Oliver, please bring Candace out.

With Wicked Game by Chris Isaak playing in the background, Oliver escorts Candace into the parlor to join Sharon. The two friends embrace and fall into easy conversation before sitting on the wing back chairs in front of the roaring fire. Oliver pours Shiraz into the glasses and sets a plate of cheesy quesadillas on the coffee table, blowing kisses to Candace the whole while.

Sharon: Thank you, Oliver. That will be all for now. What’s that? I’m sure Candace will let you know the minute she feels threatened in Arizona and needs a PI to investigate. In the meantime, keep the Shiraz comin’. Isn’t that right, Candace?

Candace (drooling): I think I’m feeling threatened right now, Sharon. Can Oliver investigate me, er, I mean it, now, please?

Sharon (giving Candace a reproaching look): Well, I must say, this book has me so drawn in that I will be rushing off to buy my copy. Wow, this is just the type of book I love. I have so many questions, I’m not sure where to begin. What a brilliant concept, a romance author and a suspense author joining forces to create a romantic suspense. I wouldn’t have the foggiest notion where to begin. Give us a briefing of how Veil of Deception was formatted.

Candace: Even though I’m a ‘pantster’ when it comes to plotting, we decided rather quickly that we both needed to have a detailed outline and character descriptions to begin writing. Since this book was Mike’s initial idea, he got the honor of writing up the outline and suggested chapter topics.

Sharon: And did you ever run into difficulties when combining your efforts? I guess what I’m asking is, how did you know what to write to coincide with the other author?

Candace: Living across the country from each other, the only way we could do it was via email. On a good day, Mike would write a section, then I would get it emailed to me and return it with my own contribution. Of course, we didn’t want our Muses to be put on hold, either, so we worked ahead of the other sometimes then had to backtrack and make the pieces match.

Sharon: I would imagine that could easily happen. And tell me, Candace, whose idea was it to write a book together?

Candace: It was really Mike’s idea. I was working on a manuscript for the second in my ‘Women of Phoenix’ contemporary romance series and sent Mike a brief passage asking him if it rang true from a male’s perspective. He thought it was trash! He didn’t exactly say that, but he did let me know it was not realistic. From there he asked me if I would consider doing a joint manuscript and I readily agreed.

Sharon: (raises an eyebrow) He thought it was trash? Oh, come now. More wine?

Candace: If it means the chance to see Oliver again, of course, my dear. You really are the best hostess ever, Sharon.

Why, thank you, Candace. Oliver is at the ready, pouring. Pumping his biceps at Candace, he walks to the book shelf and returns with his copy of Veil of Deception and a pen. If I might be so bold as to have your autograph, Love? He winks. I’m a PI, you know and might get a few pointers.

Candace (writing on the back of Oliver’s hand because she isn’t paying attention to what she is doing): Blurghaldocuh.

Oliver: Huh?

Candace: Um, never mind. My pleasure.

Sharon (snapping her fingers to bring Candace’s attention back to her): And is Michael Davis your critique partner?

Candace: No. In fact he’s read my first book, Golden Enchantment, and I’ve read his first two but we’ve since decided it is better to keep our individual efforts outside of our writing relationship.

Sharon: Okay, let’s talk a bit about the story, the plot and the characters. Who came up with the initial synopsis, the setting, names and storyline?

Candace: Mike already had the plot for Veil of Deception in his head. We each created our own characters. As we began to write, much of what I contributed changed the plot slightly from his vision but that was bound to happen.

Sharon: Sounds fair. Can you tell us approximately how long it took to write this book? I’m not talking sending it to Champagne for submission and review. I mean how long did it take to write before the rough draft was complete?

Candace: As I recall, it was several months. We started it in late summer and finished in November. During that time, Mike and I actually got to meet in person. He had an opportunity to fly to Albuquerque and I convinced him to meet me halfway (okay so it was a few more miles in my favor) in Springerville Arizona for a side trip with his wife. It was nice to finally put a face with the name. (The picture on the right is of me, Mike's wife Karen, and Big Mike eating in a restaurant in Springerville)

Sharon: I agree. It’s great to meet our online friends. Now, can you tell us a little about the main characters, Danielle Gillette and Kurt Hawkins?

Candace: I based Danielle on Rachael Ray as far as looks and abilities. She is a former chef who turned to writing mystery novels after the death of her husband. Everyone thinks they are romances, though, and a thread running throughout the book has Danielle constantly defending her books by stating that they are mysteries, not romances.

Kurt is somewhat of the strong and silent type. He’s not very social, just like Danielle. After his wife goes missing, he is not ready for a relationship but when Danielle comes along, he is drawn in by her unique personality and talents. He’s a typical guy in that he is sometimes clueless when it comes to what a woman wants.

Sharon tilts her head back and laughs. Isn’t that the truth! And Rachael Ray. I love it. You chose Spenser Lake, Virginia for the setting? Any special reason?

Candace: Mike lives in Virginia and the book is based on a real place, even real events that happened several years ago in the community. It was a learning curve for me as I’ve never been that far east before. Mike had to send me lots of photos of the area.

Sharon: I love this concept: “Sometimes truth cuts deeper than a lie.” So true. What are your thoughts on that statement?

Candace: That is the premise of the book – that the hero and heroine both have something to hide and they face the conundrum of telling the truth or being kinder by not mentioning it.

Oliver empties the bottle of Shiraz, taking a moment to brush a crumb off Candace’s lip. His fingers linger just a tad…

Sharon: Oliver, about those almond cookies. Is that the smoke alarm? Best run along and check. So, Candace. Before Oliver brings out dessert, might we expect further books written by you and Michael Davis?

Candace (whimpering slightly): W…what? Oh, sorry, Sharon, I just wanted to be sure Oliver didn’t need any assistance in the kitchen… Actually, Mike and I are currently wrapping up another manuscript entitled Whispers of Innocence. This one was my idea and takes place in Arizona. I figured it was only fair that Mike be subject to the same problems I had writing about Virginia!

Sharon: Here here. The glasses clink. And that brings us to the end of this very interesting interview. Candace, as always, it’s been a pleasure. I hope you agree to come back. But in the meantime, best of luck with sales, my friend.

Candace: Thank you Sharon and Oliver!

Oliver struts out with the sterling silver caddy, coffee, tea and cookies. And when Wicked Game plays again, he takes Candace in his arms and takes her for a spin around the floor.

Veil of Deception can be purchased in electronic format January 2, 2010 (http://www.champagnebooks.com/books/)

To purchase other books by Candace Morehouse, visit her website at: www.candacemorehouse.com

Blog: www.candacemorehouse.blogspot.com

Contact: cmmorehouse@hotmail.com

The Author Roast and Toast

Hello Friends. It's Friday, which means Oliver and I are over at the Author Roast and Toast. Today's featured guest is Wendi Zwaduk and it's a Hollywood celebration. Come join the fun.

Sharon

http://authorroastandtoast.blogspot.com

Wednesday Spotlight with Oliver

Hello and welcome to Wednesday Spotlight! Today I have a very special guest. Our very own Oliver has agreed to be interviewed. So come into the parlor and join me for an up close and personal with my suave and debonair butler. And here he comes now. Oliver, darling, come on out!

Oliver saunters out, grinning. Dressed in a black t-shirt and low rider jeans, he takes a seat on the sofa, crosses one muscular leg over the other and blows kisses to his adoring fans. The women scream for him to flex his biceps. With a wicked wink, he obliges.

A cacophony of feminine shrieks and howls erupt from the audience, rattling the double pane windows and crystal chandelier. In between chanting his name, Oliver is bombarded with red roses, lace thongs, pictures and hotel keys. A real lady killer, Oliver scoops up handfuls of the souvenirs and takes a gallant bow.

Sharon: Thank you for agreeing to an interview, Oliver. Now, since the roles are reversed, I’ve mixed up a batch of your favorite drink, the James Bond martini and your favorite munchies, Macadamia nuts. Sharon pours the martinis into two chilled glasses and they toast.

Oliver: Perfect, just the way I like it. Shaken, not stirred. He scoops up some nuts and kisses his fingertips. Ambrosia!

Sharon: All right, now I know the ladies are dying to learn all about your life before joining my employee, so let’s get started. Tell us your full name and where you’re from.

Oliver sips his martini and winks. My name is Oliver Rodrigues Carvalho. I was born in Tuscany, but was raised in Hawaii. My sweet mama, God rest her soul, was a feisty little Italian woman with a heart as big as the day is long. Papa was born in Madrid, Spain and was a legendary bull fighter until his dying day.

Sharon: Sigh. What a family history. And tell us, Oliver, with all that hot blood surging through your veins, did you ever entertain the notion of carrying on the legend? I’m sure all the ladies out there can visualize you as a very sexy matador, taunting the bull with your red cape. Inquiry minds want to know.

Oliver: I remember watching Papa a few times as a boy, and being both fascinated and horrified. A raging bull is not a pretty sight, especially when he’s charging full steam ahead at a loved one, determined to stomp him to death. No, not once did I wish to pursue Papa’s career.

Sharon: You know, something I’ve always wondered about, Oliver. Why the color red? Correct me if I’m mistaken, but aren’t all animals color blind?

A seductive chuckle erupts from the back of Oliver’s throat. I always wondered who decided animals are color blind? To my knowledge, they can’t speak for themselves. But I can speak the truth about the red cape that is flapped in their face. It isn’t the color that annoys them. The bull gets stimulated by the flapping of the material. It enrages them and makes them charge.

Sharon: Well, thank you for clearing that up, Oliver. Are you ready for another martini?

Oliver winks. Keep them coming.

Sharon tops off the chilled glasses. Now, tell us how you came to be a part of my employee. And remember, darling, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Oliver clinks his martini glass and smiles a beguiling smile. Would I lie? The truth is, I love to cook and clean and am a connoisseur of fine wines. If there’s a drink or martini out there I don’t know about, I’ll learn and mix it up faster than I can pump my biceps. So when I saw the ad you were running in the paper, what choice did I have? Obviously, your mama didn’t raise no fool, and you hired me on the spot. And if I might be so bold to say, working for you is the best.

Sharon beams a brilliant smile. Why, thank you, Oliver. How sweet of you to say. I am the best boss, right? Sharon bats her eyelashes, still beaming.

Oliver: Well, there’s that. But I was actually thinking about all the hot babes you interview that I get to wait on hand and foot.

Sharon pouts. But of course. But tell them the real shocker, what you do at night.

Oliver grins and pumps his biceps. I’m a private investigator. I work undercover and have done a variety of surveillance work from tracking cheating spouses to some shady deals I am too much of a gentleman to discuss.
Sharon: And this makes you all the more dark and mysterious. Now, no doubt the ladies are curious about your love life. Are you or have you ever been married? If not, are you dating?

Oliver winks and grins? I’ve never been married and am still waiting for the woman who holds the key to my heart.

The women sigh.

Sharon: And just what type of woman might that be, Oliver?

Oliver: I’ll know her when my heart beats for her and only her.

The women gasp.

Sharon: Well, it’s either getting hot in here or thick in here. She fans her face. But obviously, our darling Oliver isn’t about to budge an inch. So on to other subjects. What kind of music do you like?

Oliver: I love all music. It speaks a language all its own. It can be romantic, energetic, sad or thrilling. But outside of rock and roll, jazz crawls beneath my skin and makes me feel alive. But when I’m thinking about a case or a woman, I prefer classical music.

Sharon: Lovely. And how about a date. Where do you take a woman on a date to impress her?

Oliver: It all depends on the woman. I prefer a woman that knows her mind and isn’t afraid to let me know her passions. But a selfish woman or self-serving woman is a real turn off. For a first date, I enjoy a quiet dinner, soft music and a nice bottle of wine. Talking is good. And a woman must have a sense of humor, but above all, she must have a heart that echoes her joy.

Sharon: clutches her heart. What a man! What about reading and movies? What are your preferences:

Oliver: Raises an eyebrow. You’re asking a PI that question while he’s sitting here drinking a James Bond martini? He winks. I love a good who done it, James Bond is my hero and I prefer to watch historical documentaries in my spare time.

Sharon: Do you have a hobby? Not that I give you any time to pursue one, but we all have a passion. What’s yours?

Oliver grins. I suppose it’s my Italian blood from Mama’s side. But I enjoy growing my own grapes and making wine from my own vineyards. When doing this, it’s something that I created with my own two hands. And wine is very good for you and a special bottle for the right occasion adds the perfect ambiance.

Sharon: Oliver, you are a jack of all trades. And tell us, do you have a favorite wine? Red or white?

Oliver: They say red is good for the blood and my personal preference is Tuscan Red. He kisses his fingertips. Delicioso..

Sharon: How sweet. Well, that just about wraps things up. And while I run in and brew your favorite coffee, chocolate almond and bring out your favorite dessert, a black forest cake smothered in cherries, you can entertain the ladies. Thank you for a most revealing interview, Oliver. And if I don’t say it enough, you’re the best. Sharon leans over and plants a kiss on Oliver’s lips and saunters to the kitchen, swooning.

Author Roast and Toast

Hello, Friends!
Today is Friday, which means Oliver and I, along with Lyn, Mary, Cuddles and Junior, will be at the
Author Roast and Toast

Today's featured guest is Skhye Moncrief
and we invite you to join us for a banquet at the Scottish Hall where Nessie is rumored to make an appearance. See you there. Oliver will be sporting his kilt! Must run. The pipes are a callin'!
http://authorroastandtoast.blogspot.com

Coffee Rightss Hostess

Looking for a little promo over at Coffee Time Romance & More? Why not join me at Coffee Rights for the remainder of January. I am the hostess for the series and the series is suspense.

I’ve posted the background to the story along with the opening paragraph. Now here’s the fun part. You get to add the next paragraph and so on until the story is complete. And the best paragraph wins a prize. Here are the details:

January Coffee Rights
Hostess: Sharon Donovan
Theme: Romantic Suspense
Characters:
Hero: Reilly Stone
Heroine: Candace Valentine
Villain Andrew Peacock
Prize: Moonlight Path gift bag from Bath&Body

Title: Murder at midnight on a Moonlit Path
Background

The whispers in his head grew louder and louder. Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. His heart pounding, Andrew Peacock bolted upright in bed. A brisk breeze swooshed through the Joshua trees, stirring the scent of roses with rain. A hunter’s moon hung low in the dark desert sky. In the distance, a coyote howled, its keening echoing through the canyon. The smell of the dank earth took him back to the night of his first kill. And the scent of roses reminded him of her. She was the love of his life, the prettiest thing the sorry town of Progress had ever seen. And she’d done him wrong. He walked to the window and gazed into the thicket, knowing precisely where he’d buried his slut of an ex-wife. Next week marked the anniversary of her death. And to keep the thrill of the kill alive, he’d reenact the crime. He’d hunt down her likeness, a flawless beauty with black hair and midnight blue eyes. And after taking a stroll down the moonlit path, he’d kill her. Then he’d bury the corpse in the woods and place a white rose on the grave. And he couldn’t wait.

Candace Valentine stood before her mirror, combing her long black hair before turning in for the night. With the hunter’s moon spilling in through her open window, her blue eyes sparkled. The hair on the nape of her neck prickled. She had the oddest feeling she was being watched. She dashed to the window to close it, her gaze searching the woods. And when her phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She snatched it up on the first ring.
“What lovely hair you have,” a voice whispered. “I just love watching you brush it in the moonlight. And what pretty blue eyes you have, the way they shimmer is so inviting.”

Deputy Sheriff Reilly Stone studied her, his green eyes searching. Raking his hand through his shaggy brown hair, his jaw clenched, he arched an eyebrow. “How long have you lived in Progress, Ms. Valentine?”
“All my life,” she said, her lip quivering.
He crossed his burly arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed. “So unless you’ve been living in a cave, surely you’re aware of all these women disappearing, vanishing into thin air.” He took a step closer. “And yet you stand in front of an open window, brushing your hair in the moonlight?”
She blinked back the tears. “I…I never worried about open windows before. I brush my hair every night before turning in. Those women who were reported missing were never found, no bodies to prove a serial killer stalks the woods. It’s probably just a coincidence, a…”
“Wise up,” he stormed toward the front door, his booted feet clomping. He glanced over his shoulder. “Every single woman reported missing had long black hair and blue eyes, like you. Bolt your door and keep the windows locked. Or you might just be the next victim.”

Won’t you join me?

http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/board/forumdisplay.php?f=255

Author Roast and Toast is back from Holiday Break

And it's a Medieval Banquet with Rachel Rossano! Come one, come all for a banquet fit for a king. Join Oliver and I, along with Lyn, Mary, Junior and Cuddles for another adventure as we roast Rachel.
http://authorroastandtoast.blogspot.com

New Year Traditions

Happy 2010! I hope the New Year is a happy and healthy one where all your dreams come true! And with me, it’s all about traditions. With my heritage being predominantly Polish and Irish, along with a wee bit of Scottish, Welsh and Austrian blood, is it any wonder? I grew up with a blend of all these well wishes for the New Year, and I’d like to share them with you. Enjoy!!

An old Irish tradition:
At the stroke of midnight, open the front door to let the New Year in and make a wish. Then run to the back door or side door and open it to let the old year and all the bad luck out!

A Polish tradition from my Grandfather passed on to my mother
The Polish believe snow on New Year’s Eve brings good luck. On a snowy New Year’s Eve, place two silver dollars outside on the window pane. The following morning, scoop up the money, along with a generous handful of snow. Close your eyes and make a wish. Then run to the bathroom and wash your face in the fresh snow and your wish will come true!

Words of Wisdom from my Irish aunt
Aunt Sis, who has starred in many of my blog posts, was a big one for legends and superstitions. She used to tell us to never eat chicken on New Year’s Day or we’d be scratching all year! This, we learned, was a reference to money. Eating pork is said to fatten the wallet for the coming year!

My Polish aunt
Not a big one for legends or superstitions, but Aunt Mary used to give a piece of straw from her Christmas manger to all her nieces and nephews. She told us to keep it in our wallets and we’d never be broke. Maybe because I’m such a believer in legends and lore, it works for me. But this is the truth. When I’m running low on money and rub the straw between my fingers, I’ve been known to find money, get some unexpected cash or win the lottery. Now, grant it, I’m not talking about any large sum of money that will allow me the luxuries of the world by any stretch of the imagination. But just enough to be a blessing!

Somewhere in Austria
There are said to be Austrian relatives on my mother’s side of the family. Very little is known about them other than my grandmother and aunt spoke of a connection to royalty. There were letters from many years ago. But after my grandmother and aunt passed away, the stories they used to tell us at Christmas and Easter faded and nothing more was ever mentioned. But one thing that stuck in my head is a New Year’s tradition they spoke of. It’s a bit chilling, but since I’m such a big believer in angels, I don’t question it.

Pick up the first shiny penny you spot gleaming in the snow in the New Year. Check the date. If it’s either the year of birth or year of death of a loved one, that person is said to be your guardian angel and will watch over you for life.

The Scottish Blessing
The Scottish are big believers in purifying the home for the New Year. This can be done in whatever traditions are passed on from generation to generation in your family. One way is to sprinkle fresh water in each room to kill the germs of the old year. Some local priests come to the homes and sprinkle holy water and bless the home.

Welsh Wishes for Good Luck
I’ve always been drawn to the fresh scent of evergreen in the house at Christmas and saddened when the bristly needles fall off and pine away. With all the legends and lore I’m blessed with, bringing a bit of the good earth into the home had to mean something. I recently learned we have some Welsh relatives on my dad’s side of the family. And a Welsh tradition for the New Year is to break off a piece of the fresh pine and sprinkle the branch through the home.

No matter what your traditions are or how you choose to ring in the New Year, I wish you health and happiness for 2010. Happy New Year!