Book Spotlight: Prime Catch by Ilona Fridl

PrimeCatch_w7774_300Blurb: Someone is killing executives in a string of Alaskan canneries. Is it natives because their food supply is being cut short? Or is there another reason, another culprit? With racial tension running high, Juneau ‘s Sheriff Amos Darcy, a man of few words, is going to find out who it is, come hell or high water.Deputy Sarah Lakat, a Tlingit woman, knows her job, but she wants to prove her people aren’t responsible for these vicious crimes. Her family and childhood friends give her access to clues the white sheriff would never have discovered, though, and she has to realize justice must be served no matter who the murderers are.Amos is married to his work and Sarah was badly hurt by a man in her past, yet as they work together in the investigation they grow close, facing danger and discrimination together. Can they solve the case even as they fight their attraction to each other?


Amos parked the patrol car near the airfield’s office and carried his bag and Sarah’s to the young man. “Lakat, this is our pilot, Bill Wright. Bill, this is my deputy, Sarah Lakat.”

Sarah held out her hand to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed pilot. “Nice to meet you.”

Bill acknowledged her and took their bags to store in a compartment of the plane. He waved them to the back. “There’s seats back there for passengers. You can strap yourselves in, and we’ll be off in five minutes.”

The seats proved to be little more than a cushioned metal frame bolted to the floor. Sarah and Amos found the ends of the safety belts that would hold them in the contraption. Finally, the craft started bumping along the grassy field. Sarah swallowed hard and closed her eyes. This was the first time she had flown, but she knew this was the fastest way to get to Sitka, so she didn’t tell Amos.

About ten minutes into the flight, Sarah heard, “Lakat, are you all right?”

She hesitated a moment. “Yes. Why do you ask?” She opened her eyes and peered at Amos.

Amos tugged at his mustache with an amused glint. “You’re as pale as death. Is this the first time you’ve flown?”

“Yes. But I can take it.”

Amos broke out into a grin. “Swell. I hope I don’t have nursemaid duty when we get to Sitka.”

She gave him an evil-eyed glare. “You won’t. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll handle this myself.” She closed her eyes again and rested her head against the metal bulkhead just as the little plane gave a jerk. Amos snorted as she rubbed the bump on the back of her head. “Not a word, Sheriff.” She glared at him.

Bio: Ilona Fridl was born in California, but now lives in the frozen tundra of Wisconsin. CIMG0486She studied Journalism and Creative Writing in high school and college. Hating typewriters, she didn’t do much writing until she got a computer. She sold her first novel in 2008 and is still going. She lives with her husband, Mark. She belongs to Romance Writers of America and was a student of Kathie Giorgio, owner of AllWriters in Waukesha, Wisconsin.

Buy Links: historical-Vintage

Links for me:

Interview with Jo Grafford, Author of Breaking Ties: First Book in the Lost Colony Series

12bI am delighted to have my Twitter friend, Jo Grafford, with me today to chat with us about Breaking Ties: First Book in the Lost Colony Series.

Jo Grafford is from St. Louis, Missouri. An award-winning author at Astraea Press, Jo writes historical fiction to spotlight unsung heroes and unsolved mysteries. She published her first poem in junior high, edited her high school newspaper while typesetting for a local news journal, and has been writing ever since.  She holds an M.B.A. and has served as a banker, a junior college finance instructor, and a high school business teacher. She is a PRO member of Romance Writers of America and From the Heart Romance Writers RWA Chapter.  The mother of three children and the wife of a soldier, she serves as a literacy volunteer for elementary school students.

First off, Jo, thank you and your family for serving our country.

Jo, what made you decide to be an author?

I’ve been writing ever since I could hold my first crayon, but I decided to become a published author only two years ago. I was three classes short of a full certification in public school teaching, and the Army moved us. The university I attended did not have a long-distance study option, so I could either start over at a new university or spend that same next 12-15 months completing and revising my first novel. Sometimes when one door closes, another truly amazing one opens!

What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like the least?

I love the writing part best. The marketing part is another whole mountain range to climb, but I wake up each morning determined to reach the top of the next peak!

How do you think your life experiences have prepared you for writing?

Laughing, crying, loving, hurting, facing challenges, failing, and succeeding – you really don’t have anything to write about until you’ve lived a few of these things.

Have you ever felt as if you were being dictated to while you wrote a book–as if the words came of their own accord? If yes, which book did that happen with?

For me, Sharon, it’s a matter of blocking out the rest of the world and escaping into that special “place.” Every writer knows what I’m talking about. It’s when you succeed in climbing inside your character’s heads and living every word you type through their eyes. You laugh when they laugh and cry when they cry.

You’ve written two novels and are working on a third. What’s your favorite time management tip?

I set goals on iCalendar and stick to them. No exceptions. Sometimes I have to pull a few all-nighters to make up for unexpected additions to the schedule. Sick kiddos, surprise visitors, major surgery, and the list goes on. When you decide that nothing can stop you from writing, then nothing will.

Are you a plotter or a pantser, i.e., do you outline your books ahead of time or are you an “organic” writer?

I’m a plotter. It works for me, but there’s no right way to write. Everyone just has to find what works best for them.

If you had one take away piece of advice for authors, what would it be?

Write every day no matter what. A writer friend once told me she could not write on a particular day, because she was so angry she would simply kill off every character. Kill them off if you must, but write anyway. You can always revise them back into existence the next day. To share a favorite quote: “You can edit garbage. You can’t edit a blank page.” –Nora Roberts

Do you have a theme song for this book? What music did you go back to over and over as you wrote it?

No theme song but music is a valuable tool for writing. I played a lot of Native American drum and pipe music as well as Elizabethan sea shanties while I wrote Breaking Ties. It really helped to set the mood for various scenes in my head.

Tell me more about Breaking Ties.

A cursed island, a chilling conspiracy, and an unforgettable love story. The 115 colonists on Roanoke Island couldn’t GPS, skype or twitter their ultimate destination back to their families and friends in 16th Century England. But modern laser technology has finally uncovered a clue – hidden beneath a patch on an ancient map at the British museum – that leads us to their whereabouts. Considered “lost” for centuries, these brave pioneers finally reveal the rest of their story in Book One of the Lost Colony Series.

Rose Payne’s world is left in tatters after a disastrous betrothal, making her an easy target for recruiters to the Colonies. Using every cent she has, Rose sails for the New World and a fresh start, vowing to never again fall for a wealthy man.

Returning from a diplomatic tour in London, Chief Manteo is bewitched by the fiery-haired ship’s clerk and determined to overcome her distrust. He contrives a daring plan to win her heart – one that forces her, honor bound, to serve as a slave to his tribe – a plan he prays will protect her from a chilling conspiracy involving murder, blood money, and a betrayal of their fledgling colony so terrifying it can only be revealed in Breaking Ties.

How about an excerpt from Breaking Ties? BreakingTies_500x750


Sometimes murder isn’t as messy, up-close, and personal as many people imagine it to be. Sometimes it is distant and impersonal – as simple as crossing a line through a name on a sheet of paper. Or one hundred and fifteen names in our case.


“You want my help.” ‘Twas an accusation.


His eyes darkened. “I save your life. I give gifts. I offer marriage.” He closed the remaining distance between us, his eyes burning into mine.

I stumbled back.

“You give nothing in return,” he snarled. “You only ask for more.”

“I would had I something to offer,” I whispered. “But I have nothing. I am nothing.”

“Then what use are you to me?” He wheeled away.

I sagged against the door, eyes stinging. I blinked rapidly and pressed a hand to my stomach. Nausea rolled at the thought of informing the others of my failure.

Manteo circled the cabin like a hawk stalking its prey. ‘Twas a fine room with ornately carved shelves lining one wall. Bunks were built into the next wall. A generous desk jutted from the third, overflowing with maps and navigational devices. I recognized the compass and hourglass but could not identify the other instruments. I jerked in surprise when Manteo swooped down upon me.

“I know our location.” His arms shot out and slapped the wall on either side of me, hemming me to the door. “I could swim ashore from here.”

“Then why do ye stay if ye can leave and save yourself?”

“Governor White gave his word to deliver me home.”

“We are going to starve, Manteo. ‘Tis only a matter of days now.”

“Nay. You alone starve. The others eat.”

“I have no appetite.”

“You act as one already dead.”

I straightened my back. “I accept what I cannot change.”

“And I change what I cannot accept.” He shifted his weight to the wall, one arm propped over my head. He drew his fingertips down the side of my face in a feather-light caress.

I closed my eyes against the rush of unbearable sweetness. He made me long for things forbidden. “‘Tis within your power to help us. I am begging you.”

“Very well.”

My eyes flew open. “Ye will do this for us.”

“For you.” His voice was silken, his features as hard as granite.

I smiled tremulously. “I thank thee, Manteo. Chief Manteo, that is.” The new title felt strange on my lips. I beheld him with a mixture of awe and pride.

“I have yet to name my price.”

I stared, confused.

He grunted in disgust. “You refuse me as both husband and lover, so you are left with the hiring of my services.”

I worried my lower lip between my teeth. At least he was willing to negotiate. His eyes flashed with lust as he followed my movements.

“I will entreat the Dares for payment.”

“Nay. You are the one in my debt.”

I raised and dropped my hands helplessly.

“You serve this company, no? You can serve my people, too.”

“Ye would hire me as clerk?” Hope leaped in my chest at the possibilities. I would not have to part from him so soon.

“My people have no clerks.” His eyes narrowed. “We have slaves.”

My breath hitched. “Ye wish to punish me, humiliate me?”

“Nay, I only wish to marry you.”

I briefly closed my eyes against the pain. He already knew the reason for my refusal.


“Say no more. I will do it. ‘Twill be punishment enough to see you so often and—“ I clamped my lips.

Exultation flickered briefly across his face. “You would give up your freedom to save your friends?”

“Without question.”

“Swear it,” he said grimly.

“I swear it.”

His eyes flared with emotion. He bent slowly ’til his breath stirred my lips. My eyelids fluttered closed. Heaven help me, for I had no will left to resist him.

“Now you will eat,” Manteo commanded hoarsely. He stepped back, surveying me from head to feet.


“I have no slaves so thin and weak. Go. Collect your rations.” He turned from me and bent to pore over a map on the table.

I reached for the door handle, disbelieving at the curt dismissal.

“And send for Anthony. I have need of him.”

I glared at his back. Faith, should I press my face to the floor as well? “Aye, master.” I bit the words out and fled.

Where can readers find more about your stories, books and you on the Internet? Please visit me on my web site, Facebook, or Twitter. I am currently running a Rafflecopter drawing at for three Amazon and Barnes and Noble gift cards (winner’s choice of places) for $50, $25, and $15. Winners will be announced Thanksgiving Day.



Twitter: @jografford

Buy Links:


Barnes and Noble:

Jo, thank you so much for being with us here today. I know my readers will enjoy your work and your interview.

Thank you for hosting this interview, Sharon. I look forward to meeting you in person on my next trip to Baltimore!

Book Spotlight: Cara O’Shea’s Return by Mackenzie Crowne

CaraOShaesReturn_w8160_750 (2)Mackenzie Crowne has a new book, Cara O’Shea’s Return!

After eight years of self-imposed exile, shy bombshell Cara O’Shea returns to her hometown to create her art in peace. Big city living has left her craving the quiet only a small town can offer. Bitter over the wreckage of her father’s infidelity, she risks town gossip and her heart, when she enlists the town’s football hero to help renovate her studio and mend a decade-old rift.

A career ending injury and failed marriage leave Michael “Finn” Finnegan questioning his worth and avoiding anything smacking of permanence. A playboy lifestyle soothes his battered ego, but lately, the pretense has lost its appeal. However, one look at Cara, with her expressive green eyes and bunny-of-the-month body, and he’s hell-bent on proving his worth with the shy artist—and himself.

As old truths are revealed, will Cara and Finn overcome the mistakes of the past, trust their hearts at last, and take a chance on love?


“You smell great.”

She gritted her teeth. “Back off, Finnegan.”

Her attempt to put some distance between them, by pushing at his shoulder, gained no results. He held her tight.

“Lighten up, O’Shea. It was a compliment. I like your hair down.” He tilted his head to peer into her eyes as he rumbled his absurd comment. “The way you wore it last night.”

Mere inches separated her face from his and her lips tightened in annoyance. Did he actually expect her to respond to that? Stick to the plan, Cara. Ignore him. She stared blankly over his shoulder.

“All those wild curls beg a man to sink his fingers in to see if they’re as soft as they appear.”

Her mouth twitched with the need to respond. Okay, maybe someone who’d spent his life being slammed to the ground by three-hundred pound behemoths wasn’t capable of reading the subtleties of body language. He probably had his brain scrambled so often he needed verbal cues to understand not all women appreciated his brand of juvenile machismo.

“You know, Finnegan,” she spoke nonchalantly, staring straight ahead as though he didn’t bother her at all. “There are medications that can help lessen the mental complications of brain damage from repeated concussions. Someone in the front office of the NFL should be able to give you the name of a doctor who can prescribe them.”

He chuckled, and she made the mistake of shifting her eyes back to his. They twinkled with mirth above a bright, white smile. The riotous fluttering in her belly brought a slight rush of nausea. Dismayed to discover those damn butterflies weren’t dead after all, she looked away.

Was brain damage contagious?

About the Author: Mac is a wife, mother and really young grandmother. Together with her high school sweet heart husband, a neurotic Pomeranian and a blind cat, she calls Arizona home because the southwest feeds her soul. Her love of the romance genre has been a lifelong affair, both as a reader and a writer. A bout with breast cancer sharpened her resolve to see her stories shared with others. Today, she is a six-year survivor, living the dream.

Raised on the concept that a stranger is just one conversation away from being a friend, she loves meeting new people. Her friends call her Mac. She hopes you will too.

Mac’s Links:

Amazon Author Page and buy links

FaceBook Author Page

Twitter @maccrowne


Interview with Andrea Downing, Author of Lawless Love

-¬nathandehartphotography-andreadowning copyI am delighted to have Andrea Downing, with me today to chat with us about Lawless Love

  And I’m delighted to be here, Sharon.  Thanks so much for having me.

Andrea likes to say that when she decided to do a Masters Degree, she made the mistake of turning left out of New York instead of right to the west, and ended up in the UK.   She eventually married there, raising a beautiful daughter and staying for longer than she cares to admit.  Teaching, editing a poetry magazine, writing travel articles, and a short stint in Nigeria filled those years until in 2008 she returned to NYC.  She now divides her time between the city and the shore and often trades the canyons of New York for the wide open spaces of Wyoming.  Loveland, her first book, was a finalist for Best American Historical at the 2013 RONE Awards.  Lawless Love, a short story, came out Sept. 4th as part of The Wild Rose Press ‘Lawmen and Outlaws’ series.   Three more books are in various stages of progress!

Andrea, what made you decide to be an author?

You know, I don’t think you “decide” to become an author.  I think if you write, and enjoy writing, then the natural progression is to try to have that writing published, and become an author.  It’s not an occupation you ‘fall into,’ nor do you wake up one morning and say, “Gee, it would be fun to become an author.  Think I’ll try that out.”  I’ve just always written—stories, poems, essays.  So here I am.

What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like the least? 

Actually, the answer is probably the same to both questions:  the solitary life.  I like ‘best’ being in charge of my own work, being able to arrange my day about my work the way I want, and not having to deal with interruptions should I so choose.  What I like least is being responsible for it all and not having colleagues to chat with at the water-cooler, or confer with when I have a problem.  I’ve had some great editors but they don’t come in until later so I’m talking about the initial stages here.

How do you think your life experiences have prepared you for writing? 

In so many ways!  It’s what we’ve gleaned from our lives that we put into our books, no matter what time period we write about or whether it’s paranormal or contemporary or faeries, what we see and learn each day comes out in the personalities of our characters, their little quirky traits, their thoughts, the way they appear and so on.  And the stories we relate also come from our experiences, even if they are transformed and unrecognizable.

Have you ever felt as if you were being dictated to while you wrote a book–as if the words came of their own accord? If yes, which book did that happen with?

Absolutely, all the time.  My characters dictate their own dialogue, I think.  It happens with all my books J

You’ve written four novels and are working on a fifth. What’s your favorite time management tip

I have none, sorry.  Time management is in the hands of the gods with me.  Two of my books are still on an editor’s desk, the publisher dictates when a book gets out, the editor dictates edits, doctors dictate how long I spend waiting in their office and so on.  Time management is a huge headache.

Are you a plotter or a pantser, i.e., do you outline your books ahead of time or are you an “organic” writer?

Totally organic, though I do know the beginning and the end and have markers for the route.  I make a lot of notes and then off I go…

If you had one take away piece of advice for authors, what would it be? 

Believe in yourself or no one else will.

Do you have a theme song for this book? What music did you go back to over and over as you wrote it? 

I’m a big country and western fan but I don’t play music while writing, otherwise I’d be singing along and dancing around and not getting anything done.

 Tell me more about Lawless Love. LawlessLove_w7876_300

Lacey Everhart has carved out a tough existence in the wilds of 1880s Wyoming, working hard to build a secure life for herself and her younger brother, Luke. She will stop at nothing to protect what’s hers and keep them safe. Even if it means keeping a secret that could destroy their lives.

Marshal Dylan J. Kane is a man who considers everything as black and white, right or wrong.  He’s never seen life any other way until he sets eyes on Lacey. Suddenly the straight and narrow that he’s followed has a few twists and turns. Loving Lacey offers the home life for which he hankers…but can he really love a woman who seems to be plain lawless?

How about an excerpt from Lawless Love?

 Lacey thought of fluttering her eyelashes, but it was such a silly thing to do. How could women act like that? She just looked up at the marshal and waited, the possibilities turning over in her mind, flitting through her head but never settling.

“You wanna tell me what really happened now so we can try to sort this matter? All I can do is promise I’ll do everything in my power to sort it for you, but I cain’t help you less’n you tell the truth. You tell me lies and make me look a dang fool, there’s nothin’ I can do. You understand that?”

Along with the tiniest nod, she clasped her hands together. She looked up at Dylan Kane and saw kindness in that face, a face she could so easily have loved had things been different. She could sense the heat radiating from his body and knew if she touched his chest, a strength would exist where his heart beat. If she ran her hand down his arms, she would find that same strength in his muscle. How she wanted those arms around her! All her life, it seemed, she had looked after herself, cared for her brother, struggled to make a home for the two of them. What would it have been like if Morgan had not…

“Lacey?” Dylan’s soft voice brought her back from her reveries. “You ready to tell the truth?” With one gentle finger, he lifted her chin so their gazes met for a moment before they each stepped back from the brink of something neither could control. “Lacey?” he repeated.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Where can readers find more about your stories, books and you on the Internet? 



Twitter: @andidowning

Buy Links:


The Wild Rose Press:

Andrea, thank you so much for being with us here today. I know my readers will enjoy your work and your interview.

Well, thanks again for having me here, Sharon.  I’ve enjoyed this interview immensely.

Interview with Karen Cox, Author of At the Edge of the Sea

IMG_2714I am delighted to have Karen Cox with me today to chat with us about At the Edge of the Sea.

Karen writes novels accented with history and romance. Her award-winning debut novel, 1932, is a love story set in the southern United States during the Great Depression. Her second novel, a modern romance called Find Wonder in All Things, won the 2012 Independent Book Publisher Book Award Gold medal in Romance, and was a Finalist in the 2013 Next Generation Indie Book Awards. Her new novel, At the Edge of the Sea, is scheduled to be released in October, 2013, in print, Kindle and Nook formats, by Meryton Press.

Karen was born in Washington State, and after a somewhat nomadic childhood that included stints in North Dakota, Tennessee, and New York State, her family settled in their home state of Kentucky. She still lives there with her husband, son and daughter, and works as a pediatric speech-language pathologist.

Karen, what made you decide to be an author, specifically a romance author?

My childhood home was filled with books—both my parents are readers, and books were highly valued in my family. I don’t remember learning how to read, but my mother says she realized I was reading by the time I was five. One natural extension of loving to read books, was to begin writing them.

But I didn’t necessarily choose the romance genre—it sort of chose me. I was busy, like a lot of people—getting my education, working, raising my family—and I got a one-two punch from life: First, I turned 40 with all the soul-searching that entails, and a year later, my family suffered the unexpected loss of my young nephew. I read voraciously during that time to keep my mind occupied, and romance was my genre of choice because I needed stories that were life and love-affirming. As I read, I realized I had things I wanted to say to the world—about love, about families, about life—and I began telling them through stories. I’d always written short stories, pieces of novels, etc., but now I decided I was brave enough to share my writing. I’m very fortunate that a small independent press was interested enough to pick up 1932, my first published novel.

What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like the least?

My favorite thing about being a writer is when readers say they enjoy something I wrote, or that it made them think, or smile, or remember.

What I like least is promoting. I think a lot of authors feel that way; many of us are introverts at heart. I love meeting readers and talking to them about stories, but promoting a certain book isn’t a natural skill for me. I’m learning though!

How do you think your life experiences have prepared you for writing romance?

I’ve often said I couldn’t have written this particular kind of novel when I was in my 20s or even my 30s. I needed some life behind me in order to meet the tons of people I have known, and observed the various relationships, places and events I’ve seen. I’ve worked as a speech-language pathologist in a variety of settings: hospitals, nursing homes, schools, and providing therapy to a wide age-range of people in their homes (one day, I saw a 4 week-old infant and a 94 year-old man in the same day!) That constant interaction with people really helped me find my ‘voice.’ I learned a lot about how people talk and act from my work.

Also, I’ve lived almost all my life in small towns or rural areas. That has given me an appreciation for nature and a slower pace of living that provides opportunities for observing the sensory details around me: a sunset, a hot day, the sounds of a working farm, etc.

Finally, I think the academic work required for graduate school taught me some basics about writing as a craft. Although I’ve not yet had a formal creative writing course, I learned about concise and precise writing from composing graduate level theses. Also, I often had to write when I didn’t feel like it, and that taught me some rudimentary discipline and work-ethic. There’s always more to learn though, and I’m curious enough to keep exploring new ways to write!

Have you ever felt as if you were being dictated to while you wrote a book–as if the words came of their own accord? If yes, which book did that happen with?

There are portions of each novel that felt this way, but probably the closest to an ‘effortless’ write was my debut novel, 1932. I wrote the first draft in about six weeks. Of course, it was edited many times afterward, but that one seemed to roll off my fingertips. Ah, sometimes I miss those days! They’re like the first blush of being in love! 

You’ve written three novels and are working on a fourth. What’s your favorite time management tip?

Write first – then check email! It’s kind of like that analogy of putting the biggest stones in the jar first, and then fitting the smaller stones around it. Computer minutiae tend to eat up my time unless I honor my priority to write.

Are you a plotter or a pantser, i.e., do you outline your books ahead of time or are you an “organic” writer?

I’m a hybrid, I guess; I do a little of both. I do have a general outline: a character sketch of the main characters, a sequence of plot events, etc. I’ve used the Scribner program to organize ideas for my last two stories and liked it. But if something else occurs to me along the way, I have no problem following myself off the beaten path. I don’t write my stories in sequence either, which baffles some people. I write a skeleton version, which is mostly dialogue, and then go back to fill in settings, descriptions, exposition, and then transitions between events. It’s sort of building a story in layers, like a baking a cake, or constructing a house.

If you had one take away piece of advice for authors, what would it be?

It’s sometimes futile to try and slave-drive your muse, but try anyway. I used to feel like I was her servant instead of the other way around, but what I’ve found over time is if I sit down and say, ‘Girlfriend, we’re doing this today. We’re writing, and we’re not stopping until there are xxx words on the page,’ the muse will usually show up, looking hung-over and slurping on a mug of strong coffee. Then, she often warms to the task and gets with the program. Not always, of course, but over the long haul, I can get what I want out of her.

What is the theme song for this book? What music did you go back to over and over as you wrote it?

Music is actually very important to me while I’m formulating a story – how did you know, Sharon?

The theme song for At the Edge of the Sea is definitely ‘Son of Preacher Man,’ covered by several wonderful artists over the years, but typically ascribed to the late great Dusty Springfield. In fact, ‘Son of a Preacher Man’ was the story’s working title for a while. The lyrics, ‘the only boy who could ever teach me, was the son of a preacher man,’ are particularly relevant, but not in the way people might think.

Other songs from the time period were also inspiring: ‘Dizzy Miss Lizzy’ originally sung by Larry Williams, ‘Let It Be Me’ by the Everly Brothers, ‘Tequila’ by The Champs, ‘One Mint Julep’ by Xavier Cougat, ‘Runaway’ by Del Shannon, but also some more modern songs like ‘Sweet Surrender’ by Sarah McLaughlin, and ‘Strong Enough’ by Sheryl Crow.

Tell me more about At the Edge of the Sea.  ATEOTS14i

Okay, here’s the blurb:

Lizzy Quinlan lives in the shadow of her past…

Everyone in Orchard Hill knows Lizzy’s bad reputation and won’t let her forget it. But in the summer of 1959, Billy Ray Davenport, an itinerant minister’s son, arrives in town. He discovers an indomitable strength behind the allure his father says is ‘designed to lead men astray.’ Lizzy spouts quirky bursts of wisdom and exudes an effortless sensuality that calls to him like a siren’s song. Billy Ray thinks he could be the one who helps her swim against the tide of disapproval—he could free her once and for all.

But a stormy path awaits the unlikely pair. Lizzy’s past cannot help but shape her future, and ready or not, this beautiful, complex mystery girl is about to change Billy Ray’s life—and his heart—forever.

At the Edge of the Sea is a realistic love story told by an idealist. As society’s sands shift under his feet, Billy Ray navigates the ocean of approaching adulthood—a journey as ever-changing and ancient as the sea itself.

How about an excerpt from At the Edge of the Sea?

It would be my pleasure! Let’s see…

Lizzy and Billy Ray have just run into each other at her friend Mrs. Gardener’s house. As they walk back to their respective destinations, they share the initial part of the journey—and some interesting conversation…


I opened the door for Lizzy, and we went back out into the heat.

She picked up a bag sitting beside the door and drifted down the steps. She had this light, graceful way of moving that made me expect her to start floating a couple inches above the ground any second.

“I’ll walk you to your turn-off today. Cavanaugh Street is on my way back to Linden.”

She held open the gate for me, and I nodded and smiled to her as I passed. She didn’t move for several seconds, staring at me, until I turned around to face her.

“What?” I asked, walking backwards and grinning.

She looked away and shook her head, trying to hide her expression. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“About what?”

The gate banged shut behind her as she fell in step beside me. “What that smile of yours does to us girls,” she teased.

“What do you mean?”

“It melts us till we’re just puddles on the floor.”

I flushed a bright red and turned back around, walking forwards again. How was supposed to react to that?

“It’s a good thing you don’t wield that smile too often, Billy Ray. You’d be spoiled rotten with all kinds of womanly favors.”

I blushed hotter and kept walking.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You didn’t embarrass me,” I lied.

We walked almost a block in silence.

“Why are you all dressed up today?”

“Oh, this old thing?” She laughed. “It really is an ‘old thing.’ Mrs. G found it for me at a second-hand shop. I don’t think it looks second-hand though, do you?”

I cast my eyes quickly to the side. “It’s pretty.”

“Mrs. G says it suits my figure better than Jeannie’s old dresses. Jeannie’s the oldest girl, you know, so I get a lot of her hand-me-downs.”


“But Jeannie’s smaller around the chest, so her dresses don’t always fit so well. See, this one has a v-neck, and it crosses over in the front, so there’s more room.”

I picked up my pace a bit. I didn’t have much to contribute to a conversation about how girls’ clothes fit across their…

I glanced quickly at Lizzy. She wasn’t looking at me as if she was teasing though. She just as easily could have been talking about the weather or her breakfast. Suddenly, she seemed to notice I wasn’t talking anymore.

“At least, that’s what Mrs. G says.”

I kept looking at the ground in front of me as I walked.

“The shoes came with it. Are these shoes more practical than my other ones, Billy Ray?”

“Do they hurt your feet?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I guess they’re more practical.”


Where can readers find more about your stories, books and you on the Internet?

Website Links:


My author blog: you can also reach the blog through


Author Page:  karenmcox1932

At the Edge of the Sea facebook page:


Buy Links: Kindle

Karen, thank you so much for being with us here today. I know my readers will enjoy your work and your interview.

Thank you for having me, Sharon! It was a pleasure ‘talking story’ with you and your readers.

Interview with Brenda Margriet, Author of Mountain Fire

Best Crop medI am delighted to have my fellow Wild Rose Press and romantic suspense author, Brenda Margriet, with me today to chat with us about Mountain Fire.  

My first vivid memory of having written something worth reading was a short story I wrote in Grade 7 about the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. I thought I was very clever and insensitively called it “Shake and Bake”…despite the fact that the plot was much more adventure romance than comedy!  Even then I was leaning towards writing what I most enjoy reading…character driven novels with a dash of adventure and a healthy dose of romance.

I spent much of my teens writing, including numerous novels that died around page 80. My very practical parents suggested a career where I might be able to use my skills while still providing a regular pay cheque, and I found myself studying Radio Broadcasting at the British Columbia Institute of Technology.  I’ve been in broadcasting every since (although I now work in television) and am still very thankful for that long ago decision, as I met my husband of 22 years at the station where I still work. And he is the main reason I have a published novel.  During the last twenty plus years I continued to pluck away at writing, but never finishing anything. Then he bought me my very own laptop for Christmas in 2010. Not having to share the family computer with our three children finally gave me the time and space to type “The End” on what would eventually be MOUNTAIN FIRE.

Brenda, what made you decide to be an author, specifically a mystery/suspense author?

I feel like I’ve always been a writer. I love putting words together, placing them in an order that is both efficient and elegant, and using exactly the right word to evoke a specific response in my readers. In my day job I am Creative Director at a small television station in Northern BC, which means I write commercials for local businesses. Most commercials are 30 seconds long…being precise and descriptive is a necessity, not a choice! But from my love of writing came the desire to see my words in print, to share them with others. And that’s what finally forced me to put my butt in a chair and my fingers on a keyboard and Get. The. Damn. Thing. Done.  As for being a mystery/suspense author, I’ve always enjoyed reading that genre myself. However, I found it very difficult to write. I knew who my bad guy was, and I didn’t want to telegraph that too soon. But how much information was too much? How could I keep secrets from my heroine and yet give hints to the reader? Is the plot suspenseful enough – or not at all? How do I decide?  All those questions kept me awake more nights than one, I’ll tell you!

What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like the least?

I love to imagine a scene, then bring it to life in black and white. It’s amazing how black squiggly marks on a page can inspire emotions ranging from boredom to passion.  I especially love when I re-read a passage I’ve written…and it still feels right.  I know a lot of writers say the least like revising, but I don’t mind the process. I like to tighten sentences, clarify actions, smooth out plot points. My biggest problem with revising is the options are endless! It can be very difficult to finally put down the pen (or laptop) and say “There. Enough.”

How do you think your life experiences have prepared you for writing mystery?

It hasn’t! :)  And I suppose I should be happy about that, because after all, thrilling, life-threatening adventures are all well and good between the pages of a book, but they tend to be rather harrowing when actual experienced!  I think that’s why I enjoy reading/writing suspense…it’s fun to imagine yourself in the same risky situations, but who wants to experience them in real life?

Have you ever felt as if you were being dictated to while you wrote a book–as if the words came of their own accord? If yes, which book did that happen with?

I can’t say that I have. There are certainly days where the words flow faster than others, where I know what happens next without having to struggle, but I’ve never had the sense of simply writing what my character is telling me to write.  They do, however, every once in a while, tell me what they wouldn’t do.  If a scene feels clunky, or awkward, it is often because I’m trying to force my character to do something that isn’t, well, in their character.

You’ve published one novel, completed a second and are working on a third. What’s your favorite time management tip?

I found my writing really started to accumulate once I’d set a daily quota for myself.  Mind you, it’s a very small quota―only 500 words.  I set aside about 1.5 hours for writing each day, but often life chips away at that. Most days I can get 500 words done in much less than my scheduled time, which frees me up to quit writing if I need to, or to keep going and build on that daily quota (for the days when I know I’ll be short). 500 words a day is 3500 words a week, which means I can have a decent length novel completed in about 5 months, and still have a life outside of writing.

Are you a plotter or a pantser, i.e., do you outline your books ahead of time or are you an “organic” writer?

I’m going to make up a new word.  I’m a “planster”.  I was a total pantser for MOUNTAIN FIRE, which probably contributed in part to the extremely long time it took me to finish the darn thing.  For my next two manuscripts, I’ve used my own modified version of the Snowflake Method ( I follow the steps pretty closely until the Scene spreadsheet.  Then, after that, I use the spreadsheet for when I get stuck, but otherwise I just go with the flow and see where my characters take me.  I find having to decide on 70 to 100 scenes before I start writing focuses me wonderfully on the plot, but ignoring that strict outline unless I run into trouble makes my work more spontaneous and organic.

If you had one take away piece of advice for authors, what would it be?

To borrow from Nike:  “Just Do It”.  If you have the urge to write, sit down and write. The only way to have written something is to actually write it.  Talking, planning, studying, brainstorming, thinking―none of that is actual writing.  Only pen to paper or fingers to keyboard is writing.

What is the theme song for this book? What music did you go back to over and over as you wrote it?

While I love music, I’ve never used it as a springboard to my writing. Part of that is where I write…in my living room, with my laptop on an upside-down serving tray on top of a pillow as a makeshift lap desk. I am in a constant battle between family and writing, not wanting to sacrifice one for the other, and I find sitting where I can be found if I’m needed is a compromise we can all live with. I don’t feel like I’m ignoring anyone, and they can still be with me if they want. But the distractions of writing in a ‘public’ place are enough that I don’t need to add music to the mix. For me, it is a distraction…even as a teenager I was never one of those kids that said studying to loud music helped them concentrate.

Tell me more about Mountain FireMountainFire_W6820_750

MOUNTAIN FIRE is set in my hometown, a city of about 80,000 people in Northern British Columbia, and its surrounding wilderness. It started as more of a straight thriller, but through the years morphed into romantic suspense.

My heroine, natural resources student June Brandt, climbs Longworth Mountain for some alone time. But when Conservation Officer Alex Weaver arrives to look into the death of a grizzly bear, June is caught up in the investigation and fascinated by Alex.

Alex is attracted by June’s competence and coolness under fire as well as her lithe body and honey-blonde hair. Although their mutual interest in protecting the natural wonders of the area brings them together, they soon realize they view love from very different angles. He offers passion and pleasure, but June wants more.

When one of Alex’s colleagues is murdered, June and Alex must work together to find the poacher before other lives are lost. And Alex must look deep inside to discover if he can give June what she deserves.

How about an excerpt from Mountain Fire?

“Good god,” he whispered. “It’s my fault.”

“No!” June said urgently. “No, that’s not what I meant. Listen to me, Alex.” She broke free of his grasp and raised her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to meet her eyes. “It’s not your fault. The person to blame is the one who killed Iain. But you have to see…you have to realize…it could have been you. And the note…maybe it was supposed to be you.”

Her brilliant blue gaze held fire and courage and something else he was afraid to define. He wrapped his arms around her and held on, drawing strength from her warmth, her slender softness. That he might have unwittingly been the means of Iain’s death shook him to his core. Years of friendship and respect, blasted away by a bullet. He wasn’t sure he could bear the guilt.

“Come to me.” He murmured in her ear. “Come to me tonight.” His mouth seared a hot, moist path along her jawline. He needed her, but he realized with wonder it wasn’t simply sexual. It was also the desire for comfort and companionship, a sharing of sorrow.

The uneasiness icing his veins was consumed in the flame of passion. Unable to deny himself another taste of her, his lips met hers fiercely, grinding against her teeth until her mouth opened and their tongues twisted together, twirling, teasing. He crushed her against his body, hands sliding from buttocks to shoulders, melding her to fit him. “I need you, June.” Desperation filled him, undeniable and indefensible. “It’s your call. Your decision. But I want you so bad. I…” he faded to a stop, pressed his mouth to hers once more. “Come to me.”
Her breath trembled out. He held her so close he could see his reflection in her eyes. She nodded. “Tonight.”

Where can readers find more about your books and you on the Internet?

I am active on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Good Reads.  The easiest thing to do is check out my website There you’ll find all the links you need to connect with me on your favourite social media.

Brenda, thank you so much for being with us here today. I know my readers will enjoy your work and your interview.

Book Spotlight: Healing Rain by Karen-Anne Stewart

Karen-Anne Healing Rain by Karen-Anne Stewart is the second novel in her Rain Trilogy. To tease you a bit about her new release, here are the book blurb, the excerpt and links to find this exciting series.

Blurb: Shattered when Raina runs after his marriage proposal, Kas is hell-bent to find her and bring her home, where she belongs.  He will bend every law necessary to do so, willing to do anything to protect Raina from her demons and the men who haunt her, going as far as placing his career and life on the line to save hers.  Raina will give up everything she has worked so hard to achieve, even flee the country to keep Kas from the wrath and powerful reach of her abusive father.

In the midst of the FBI team closing in on the Ghost, another ghost from Raina’s past taunts her, promising that she will be his.  Meanwhile, a different trafficking ring is gaining strength in New Jersey.  Michael solicits Raina’s help, needing her smooth, sultry voice to win the audition for the new singer in the ring leader’s swanky night club. Raina knows her life is in jeopardy with the dangers of being undercover, but she is blindsided when she discovers that it’s her heart that is threatened with a mortal blow.

Raina tries to heal from the nightmares of her dark past as the grisly bodies of innocent victims surface when the team gets closer to discovering the identity of the man responsible for the infuriatingly clever and powerful slavery ring.  When Raina finally comes face to face with the Ghost, he quickly engulfs her in a twisted game of cat and mouse, delivering a veiled threat as he slips through her fingers.  As the ghosts of her past and present ensnare her in their deadly web, Raina realizes the danger has just begun.

Healing Rain ExcerptHealingRaincover

The karaoke begins again, and Kas nudges Raina, “You should go up there.”

Mandy, Austin’s date, overhears, “You sing?”

Raina starts to shake her head no, but Kas jumps in, “The girl can sing.”

Raina shoots him a combined look of panic and disbelief at all of his outrageous encouragements tonight as Mandy, Sara, Susanna, and Maya grab at her, telling her to get her butt on stage.  She adamantly shakes her head, her cheeks flushing at their insistence.

“We’ll go with you,” Sara chimes in as she grabs her hand, but Raina doesn’t budge.

Susanna grabs her other hand, and Maya and Mandy grab her arms as Kas gives the final push, sending her to her feet.  They pull her towards the stage.  Raina steps onto the platform, the lights momentarily blinding her as she is pushed towards the microphone.  Her heart is beating wildly, feeling like it’s going to pump straight out of her chest as she stares out into the crowd of people.  In a panic, she turns to go, but the girls are in front of her, and Sara has already called out a song to the deejay.  The music starts to play, and Raina freezes.  Susanna nudges her and points to the screen, telling her to sing the words rolling across.  Raina remains quiet, motionless, and someone in the back lets out a loud yell, “Sing, or get off the stage.”

Raina is more than happy to oblige the unseen man and leave the stage, but her friends will hear nothing of it as they sing and push her to join in.  Kas stands, making his way slowly to the raised platform, all the while keeping his gaze steady and locked on hers.  He gently nods his head, encouraging her to go ahead.  She again vehemently shakes her head no, her hands shaky as she holds the microphone.  Kas mouths at her, telling her to look at him, his eyes willing her to forget everyone else, to just concentrate on him, and she softly nods.  Sara yells for the deejay to start the song again, and Kas smiles, shaking his head at the choice, a song of independence, perfect for his independent, tenacious wife.

Raina’s voice is quiet at first, beginning the song timidly.  Her eyes lock on Kas’, and he smiles, encouraging her to let go.  Her voice rises as she slowly lets herself get lost in the song.  The other girls stop singing as Raina’s sultry voice picks up, soothingly singing the slower part of the song before her voice booms just at the right second when the song’s tempo quickly picks up speed.  With every second, she gains more attention from the rowdy crowd.  People stop talking, and heads turn towards her as she belts out the chorus.

Kas fills with pride as Raina’s confidence grows, her voice sounding amazing, professional, up there on that small stage.  The whole team stares at her in bewilderment.  Seth’s jaw drops slightly as they listen.  People start to join in with her, and Raina grabs the mike, her fingers moving with the pitches as her voice belts out the song incredibly.  Once the music stops, there are loud whistles and catcalls throughout the room as Kas grabs Raina’s waist lowering her off of the stage into his arms.

“You were beyond amazing, Rain,” his praises her, his eyes overflowing with love and pride.  His body reacts violently when she blushes and looks up at him shyly.  “I’ve got one very hot, very talented wife,” he whispers in her ear, giving her a heated kiss before making himself pull away from her in the public setting.  He grabs her hand as they make their way back to the table.

All of their friends cheer as she takes her seat, and her cheeks flush a deep scarlet.  Erik pulls her off her seat into a hug, “How dare you keep something like that from me!”

Michael shakes his head, leaning towards Kas, “That girl of yours should be all wrapped up in bright yellow caution tape, tied into a pretty, little Christmas bow.”

Kas lets out a hearty laugh, “I couldn’t agree more.”



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Book Spotlight: The Other Side by Zee Monodee

The-Other-SideTitle: The Other Side

Series: Book #1 in the Island Girls Trilogy

Author: Zee Monodee

Line: Ubuntu (geared to African Romance)

Publisher: Decadent Publishing, LLC

Release date: July 30, 2013

Genre: Contemporary Romance/ Romantic Comedy/ Interracial Multicultural Romance/ Bollywood

Length: 272 pages

Heat Level: Sensual/ 2 flames


Divorce paints a scarlet letter on her back when she returns to the culture-driven society of Mauritius. This same spotlight shines as a beacon of hope for the man who never stopped loving her. Can the second time around be the right one for these former teenage sweethearts?

Indian-origin Lara Reddy left London after her husband dumps her for a more accommodating uterus—at least, that’s what his desertion feels like. Bumping into him and his pregnant new missus doesn’t help matters any, and she thus jumps on a prestigious job offer. The kicker? The job is in Mauritius, the homeland of her parents, and a society she ran away from over a decade earlier.

But once there, Lara has no escape. Not from the gossip, the contempt, the harassing matchmaking…and certainly not from the man she hoped never to meet again. The boy she’d loved and lost—white Mauritian native, Eric Marivaux.

Back when they were teens, Eric left her, and Lara vowed she’d never let herself be hurt again. Today, they are both adults, and facing the same crossroads they’d stood at so many years earlier.

Lara now stands on the other side of Mauritian society. Will this be the impetus she needs to take a chance on Eric and love again?


She shouldn’t have come. The sound of her mother’s high-pitched voice crept over the din, asking if someone had heard a car stop in the driveway. They’d come out in the next minute.

Picking up her courage, and wishing it were Dutch courage despite her not being a drinker, she tore her fingers and head from the wheel and threw the door open. Lara peeled herself out of the vehicle at the same time a chorus of gasps resounded in the garden.

All three older women were over her like a bad rash. Hugging and kissing her cheeks, holding her face in their hands while they exclaimed how beautiful she had become. All of which were simply tactics to lull her into complacency for when they’d really pounce on the meaty topic—her divorce.

With their deceptively frail-looking hands on her shoulders, they pushed her toward the back door to the kitchen. A memory of being pushed around in the same way toward the altar on her wedding day, the glittery gold and red veil over her eyes, assaulted her. She stopped in her tracks, the pain coming in from nowhere to slice through her heart. The biddies must not have noticed her stilling; they simply continued to steer her inside until she was seated at the table. A plate of towering hot bhadias appeared in front her, along with a bowl of satini cotomili, the coriander, tomato, and chili paste-like dip Mauritians ate with all their fried foods.

Auntie Ruby, resident gossipmonger, lived up to her reputation. She had been the first to mention Lara’s failed marriage before they made it back into the house.

The sound of the grating voice droned on, Lara choosing to ignore it, before her mother gave her a small slap on her shoulder.

“You wicked girl. You said you were coming on Monday, and here you are surprising us now.”

She sighed. This was code for “how could you have kept this a secret and made me lose face in front of everyone, when I’ve been telling them you are coming on Monday?” Her mother lived for hearsay and the general idea of “what will people say.” In fact, most people in Mauritius lived by the standard. Whoever said the ton and all its silly rules had died in the Regency era had not taken a trip to Mauritius, in eighteen-ten or the year two thousand.

“But my poor little girl,” Auntie Ruby said in a cajoling tone bringing nothing but danger to mind. “Of course you wanted to come home earlier. Who wouldn’t? Look what that awful, awful man has done to you.”

Translation: “And here’s your cue to air out the laundry, from the sheets to the knickers, you silly goose.”

“Our hearts went out to you, dearest girl, you who are like a daughter to us,” Auntie Zubeida chimed in. “We never saw this coming. How could you not have told a soul you and that scoundrel were having problems? We would’ve spoken to him, set him right, showed him this is not how he is supposed to treat our daughter.”

“Tsk-tsk. And what a beautiful couple you two made. How could anyone have thought you would break up?” Auntie Ruby added.

Lara forced a small smile. Damn, how she wanted to be out of here. She had a duty to do, though—the sooner she was done, the better, so she could run back to Grand Baie and leave those old cows behind. And yes, in that lot, she included her mother, who had yet to speak out. Bad vibe.

“I’m doing fine, Auntie,” she said. “That’s what matters.”

All three women watched her with narrowed eyes. No way was she doing away with the Inquisition.

“How can you be fine?” Auntie Ruby asked. “We have been so preoccupied with your plight. How on earth are you going to get along? How will your parents bear all this? To think they still have an unmarried daughter on their hands, now they are ending up with two daughters. Oh what fate God has dealt them.”

Lara bit her lip to keep from answering back. Right, the ton must’ve been more solicitous than this. The aunts were simply nosing for gossip. But then, that’s what Jane Austen wrote in her subtext, too. The concern was merely the polite way of enquiring about gossip in their society.

Buy Links:

Decadent Publishing

Amazon (available at the discounted price of $2.99)


About the author: AuthorAvatar

Zee Monodee

Stories about love, life, relationships… in a melting-pot of culture

Zee is an author who grew up on a fence – on one side there was modernity and the global world, on the other there was culture and traditions. Putting up with the culture for half of her life, one day she decided she’d stand tall on her wall and dip toes every now and then into both sides of her non-conventional upbringing.

From this resolution spanned a world of adaptation and learning to live on said wall. The realization also came that many other young women of the world were on their own fence.

This particular position became her favorite when she decided to pursue her lifelong dream of writing – her heroines all sit ‘on a fence’, whether cultural or societal, in today’s world or in times past, and face dilemmas about life and love.

Hailing from the multicultural island of Mauritius, Zee is a degree holder in Communications Science. She is a head-over-heels wife, in-over-her-head mum to a tween son, best-buddy-stepmum to a teenage lad, an incompetent domestic goddess, eternal dreamer, and an absolute, shameless bookholic. When she isn’t penning more stories and/or managing the Ubuntu line at Decadent Publishing, you can bet you’ll find her with her nose in her tablet, ‘drinking in’ a good book.

Here’s a few tidbits about this book:

- Mauritius, where this trilogy takes place, is a small tropical island in the southern Indian Ocean. There are no natives, and the land has been entirely populated by immigrants. Under Dutch rule in the 17th century; French rule until 1810; then a British colony from 1810 to 1968 when it reached independence, the island is a mix of races and religions.

- Despite all races, cultures, and religions living together in harmony in what is termed ‘the rainbow nation’, an unspoken segregation still exists where descendants of colonizers (mainly the French who remained despite British rule) and descendants of African slaves, Indian indentured labourers, or Chinese traders. This is the backdrop Lara, of Indian descent, must face with Eric, whose ancestors were wealthy French plantation owners.

- Back in the year 2000 (when this story takes place), divorce was an almost-alien, shunned & vilified concept. People were still supposed to marry ‘for life’ and a wife left her husband’s home only in her coffin. Those who dared brave this silent edict did it at the risk of becoming marginalized and cast away. Like Lara, the author, Zee, divorced her British husband and returned to the island to face such drama. Much of the divorce angle in the book comes from her own experience.

Interview with Sheri Fredericks, Author of The Centaurs Series

Author Image 3I am delighted to have my friend from the Paranormal Romance Guild, Sheri Fredricks, with me today to talk about her new novella release, Portals of Oz.

Always on the hunt for the uncommon things in life, award-winning author Sheri Fredricks thrives on creating adventures in her mythological kingdom.

A former engineering secretary, Sheri lives on California’s beautiful central coast. “I wanted to move away from inflexible right angles and create an unboxed world with no boundaries.” A voracious reader since her early years, Sheri found her brain crowded with stories and characters of her own. “Ultimately,” she says, “my husband encouraged me to write them all down.”

Sheri loves to spend time at home. A computer hutch keeps her focused on creating stories, but the panoramic view of life on a ranch will call her outside to play in the sun.

Sheri, what made you want to be an author? At what age did you start telling stories and then writing them down?

In high school, I took a creative writing class. It was really easy for me. Next thing I knew, I was getting paid to write stories for the other kids in class so they could turn them in. LOL I don’t think I ever made the conscious decision to write stories at that age, but it always stuck with me. What was once a hobby is now a career. What’s the saying? Love your job and you’ll never work a day in your life.

What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like the least?

Best: The freedom of creation without ridicule.

Worst: Promotion

How do you think your life experiences prepared you for writing paranormal romance and other novels?

I’ve lived with horses most of my life, therefore I know their nuances and funny quirks. Writing about shapeshifting centaurs is right up my alley and I feel the characters before they’re born.

Have you ever felt as if you were being dictated to while you wrote a book–as if the words came of their own accord? If yes, which book did that happen with?

Sometimes when I write and I’m in “the zone”, the words come easily and flow. The next day I’ll go back and edit before I start writing again, and I’m amazed at what I’ve written. It happened with both Remedy Maker (whole chapters!), and Troll-y Yours.

For a variety of reasons (day job, children, elder care, book marketing), writers often complain about not having enough time to write. What’s your favorite time management tip?

I have a schedule and do my best to stick to it. Not only do I write full time, I also work in my husband’s home office full time. Plus we have two teenage boys. It’s important to treat my writing as a business and work smart, not hard.

Are you a plotter or a pantser, i.e., do you outline your books ahead of time or are you an “organic” writer?

For the most part, I plot. But it’s a skeleton outline and I leave room for creativity on how I arrive at the next bullet point. Without a frame in which to build my stories, I find I drift without purpose and end up having to delete. In order to not waste time, I’ll plot to stay the course.

If you had one take away piece of advice for authors, what would it be?

Cherry Adair told me: Stick your ass in the chair and write the damn story.

Is there a particular song or type of music that you listened to often as you wrote this book?

No, I find music distracting while I write. I can listen to sounds of nature that blur in the background, but for the most part I’m partial to silence. It’s not often I get that around my house!

Tell me more about your novella, Portals of Oz. Portals of Oz erotic fantasy romance

 Abelia is a Boronda Forest Wood Nymph who comes to Willow Bay to satisfy her curiosity of human life, and ends up getting more than she bargained for. Jack is an archeologist bent on discovery. He can’t wait to leave Pennsylvania and return to his explorations in Australia, where life is filled with dingos and roos.

Danger abounds when human hunters stalk the enthralling Abelia, and Jack comes to her rescue. The hunters back off, but she suddenly vanishes, and he’s left confused as he returns home to the rugged Outback.

When Abelia magically appears in Jack’s kitchen, she must divulge who and what she really is and risk the mythic people’s secret for his help to return home. Meanwhile he risks his heart in convincing her to stay.

How about an excerpt from Portals of Oz?

Here’s a cute part. It’s when Abelia, the Wood Nymph, magically appears in front of Jack, the human, after he supposedly left her in the U.S. and now he’s back at home in Australia.


Inside the tree, the bonsai wasn’t cramped for breathing space, though no Wood Nymph had ever made it a home. That much was clear; the living quarters were bare. Not even a cup to get a drink of water. Back in Boronda, the taproot tree of her heart held two bedrooms, living room, kitchen, and bath. This mini tree, she glanced around, was more of a studio—everything in one big room.

Connected to a single tree from birth, a Wood Nymph’s existence remained joined as one, taking on life and living for centuries. With all things mythological, there lay a flip side to their longevity—whatever affected the tree, would also affect them. Clear cutting and environmental pollution were the Wood Nymph’s number one cause of death.

Abelia shimmered close to the bonsai’s bark surface, but didn’t pop all the way through. She took in her new environment from behind a screened window of natural wood grain.

Cream colored marble covered the modern kitchen countertops. Blond oak cabinets hugged the walls, and a type of cooking range she’d never seen before sat center stage. The home—whomever it belonged to—was nice, clean, and tidy. And if it were hers, she’d add a few green plants and a vibrant splash of color.

As much as she liked hanging around and ogling the home interior of others, it was time for her to leave. Uneasiness prickled her spine. In this last adventure, her curiosity had gotten the better of her. For what seemed as long as a day, the walls and floor shook inside the boab, the last few hours being the worst. Impossible to stand upright, she resorted to crawling, or sat in the corner with her back braced against the walls.

Energy grew deep within her, and her body’s temperature increased with the howl of a false wind. In true mythic fashion, not a hair on her head stirred. Agitated molecules spun and danced. The whirling motes created exotic patterns as they vibrated the still air around her. Wood Nymph shimmer in full effect, displaced air popped like a finger in the mouth and a moment later Abelia stood on the cool tile floor, facing the bonsai.

Behind her a deep voice gasped, “Oh, my God.”

Abelia spun around, her heart in her throat, and threw a hand over her mouth to hold in a scream.

The human male from the park stood shirtless a few feet away, eyes saucer wide. In his right hand, he held a blue can halfway to his mouth. “What the hell?”

Shock wrote a novel across his face, invoking a sense of panic inside her. She glanced past him to the luggage bag sitting on the floor, and through the adjoining room was a door with an inlaid arched window. Sunlight streamed through and sparkled on the reddish floor.

Based on her education and life experience, he wouldn’t know if what he saw was real. She’d have to place her bet on that guess.

“Hi. I bet you’re surprised to see me.” She smiled, though her facial muscles fought the uphill pull.


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Sheri, thanks you so much for being with us here today. I know my readers will enjoy your work and your interview.

Sharon, it’s been a pleasure. I want to let everyone know that my novella, Portals of Oz is only 99 cents!

Magda Alexander, Debut Novel, Storm Damages

Facebook PhotoFirst of all, I want to thank Sharon for inviting me to her blog to talk about my debut novel, STORM DAMAGES, a sizzling contemporary romance.

Promising law student Elizabeth Watson struggled throughout her entire life to claw out of her dirt poor background. And now the brass ring is within her grasp—an associate position at the law firm where she works. As long as she keeps up her grades, makes law review, and stays out of trouble. But trouble is just what walks in the door one scorching hot summer day.

When Gabriel Storm crashes into Elizabeth’s life she wants nothing to do with him. After all, he’s on the opposing side of a business deal her law firm represents.  If she’s seen with him, she can kiss her career goodbye. But after one sizzling encounter in his limo, she can’t stay away from the British billionaire who put the “B” in bad boy, and soon she’s embroiled in an affair hot enough to incinerate her doubts. She should walk away, hell, she should run away, but she can’t. Because all she cares about is his kiss, his touch, and the fires he lights when she’s in his arms.



An urgent heat flares in Gabriel Storm’s eyes. “Are you attached, Elizabeth?” he asks in a gravelly voice, barely loud enough for me to hear.

My legs turn to rubber. My breath hitches. “Attached?”

His thumb scrapes the inside of my wrist, setting off a wild pulse within. “Do you have a partner, a significant other, a boyfriend?”

“No.” I blurt out before I can think about the appropriateness of his question. Or my response.

“Good.” The hold on my wrist relaxes. It’s only then I realize how tense he’d been. As if my answer mattered to him. “Are you free tonight?”

What the—? Yeah, we shared a moment in the elevator and when I entered the conference room. But he’s on the opposing side of a half billion dollar deal. I can’t go out with him.

Not wishing to appear rude, though, I sidestep the question. “Chances are I’ll be working late.”

“Surely Carrey won’t keep you. He’ll want you to be fresh tomorrow morning for the negotiations. Meet me for drinks at my hotel. I’m staying at The Four Seasons. Around seven?”

I try to say something. But stunned by the turn of events, I can’t.

He palms a card from his jacket. “My mobile number. Call me when you leave the office so I know when to expect you.” He strokes the card against my cheek.

His touch sets off something within, a trembling I can’t control.

As he slips the card into my hand, his eyes turn the color of a savage storm. “You’re very responsive, Elizabeth. I like that.” And with that, he strolls away, all liquid movement and languid grace.

What the hell just happened? I didn’t say yes. You didn’t say no. Elizabeth. His panty-melting voice whispers inside my head.

STORM DAMAGES is now available at Amazon

About the Author

Magda loves piña coladas and walks in the rain. Okay, enough of that. Rewind.

Magda loves reading steamy romances which she’s been doing since she was ten. Ummm, that’s not quite true. Steamy romances did not exist when she was ten, and if they had, she’s pretty sure her mother would not have allowed her to read them. She did read the hand-holding, longing- glances kind, along with her catechism, which got her into trouble more than once. Let’s just say, Mother Superior was not amused.

As soon as sexy romances came into existence, she’s been lapping them up. So when it came time to write one, guess what she wrote. A no-brainer, right?

Magda, a lifelong learner, graduated from the University of Maryland where she majored in Business Administration (because her family had to eat) and minored in English (because she needed to dream). She’s lived in Maryland most of her life and now resides close to the Catoctin Mountains in a city whose history dates back to colonial times.

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