Monthly Archives: April 2015

Guest Blog Goodness–Tess Delacour

Please help me welcome Tess Delacour to the blog!!

Most writers I’ve known say that writing is invigorating; while some say that it’s their therapy. How does your writing serve you? Do you express your life through the story or does the theme come from your vision?
Writing is therapy for me.  It’s a healthy way to release emotion.   We all have to self-censor.  You can’t run around spewing every thought that floats through your head, but you can write it down.  Some of it makes it into the books and some gets discarded, but it all gets set free.

There is a bit of me in every one of my characters, good and bad.  It’s kind of like a Horcrux.  Pieces and parts of a writer live on in their books long after they are gone, keeping them alive.  That’s how I look at it.

Who or what inspired you to write?
Pride and Prejudice was the first romance novel I ever read.  The book was assigned in a high school English class and I was immediately hooked on Jane Austen.  It was the first time I became obsessed with a book.  I reread it over and over, and sought out all the movies and mini-series available.  I had been writing poems and short stories all along, but that book changed the direction of my writing.  I wanted to create worlds, to draw readers in and make them feel connected to a cast of wonderful characters.  Jane did that for me.  All her books make me want to jump inside the pages and be a part of the story, and that’s the impact I want to have on my audience.  Reading Austen drew me to other romance authors and I’ve been on this path ever since.  Other strong influences are Daphne DuMaurier and the Bronte sisters.  There are many wonderful modern authors who have inspired me as well.  In particular, Jill Shalvis, Erin McCarthy and Christy Craig have had an impact.  I love a good, sexy, funny story, and these ladies do it well.

What are your five “desert island” books?
SAS Survival Guide by John Wiseman — I am a practical girl at heart.  If I’m dehydrated, starved and half-dead, reading five page-turners isn’t really happening.  I’ll go for one practical book to keep me alive and four fantastic reads to make living worthwhile.
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen — Of course, by now you know I have a Jane problem and this book would need to be on the island.
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon – This is a book I can read over and over again, and get something new every time.  The complex characters and historical detail keep me coming back.
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare – Okay, okay, I know this is cheating but it’s my island and in my defense it is a single book.  Will’s plays would keep me happy for the rest of my days on an island.  Of course, my favs are the HEAs Much Ado About Nothing and Taming of the Shrew, but I am sure I would find the time to read the tragedies as well.
The Princess Bride by William Goldman – This book has everything!  And isn’t a gorgeous pirate what every woman stranded on a desert island needs?

What is the best way a reader can express their gratitude for the experience they had reading your work?
The best way a reader can express gratitude is to leave an honest review of my book.  Reviews are what lead new readers to a work and they are invaluable.  It’s like tipping your waitress at a restaurant.  The reviews are tips for an author.

Have you done all the things in your book with your partner? That’s what I want to know 🙂
Many of my intimate scenes are drawn from reality or things I would like to experience.  As women I think sometimes we have trouble voicing our fantasies to our lovers.  My husband had never read a romance novel until my books.  I asked him if he was going to be embarrassed for people to read them due to the spicy content and he said, “Nope.  They’ll just be jealous.”  By the way, if you can get your significant other to read a romance novel you will be amazed at the results.  Try it.  😉

Website: www.tessdelacour.complayitagaindan
Liquid Silver Books:
Barnes & Noble:
All Romance eBooks:

The moment Detective Daniel Murphy waltzes into The Dubliner Irish Pub, he knows it is going to be a good night. Music, beer, and sex are the three best reasons for living in his opinion. The first two were satisfied upon entry and the third looks promising if the singer on the stage is cooperative. Little does he know that the woman he’s about to meet, the very one he’s been admiring, will change his life forever. She’s picked up a nasty stalker and Dan is the cop assigned to her case. Lucky him.

Assistant District Attorney Kate Shaw’s first encounter with Detective Murphy consists of him ogling her backside and bossing her around. Not a stellar start. She’s carrying a boatload of childhood baggage from a youth spent in foster care and believes she is unable to make an emotional connection with the opposite sex. Men are more trouble than they’re worth and life with her music, work, and cat are plenty to satisfy.

They attempt to work together to nail Kate’s stalker but the bad guy has other ideas. Can Dan protect Kate from the threat and convince her they are for keeps? He’s a man who gets what he wants. In this case that’s the bad guy as well as the girl.

Chapter 1

Detective Daniel Murphy walked from his car to The Dubliner Irish Pub, the sounds of a band spilled out the doors of the brick building. He loved that sound, it reminded him of his dad, and Guinness. One of his favorite reasons for living was music. Well, music and beer and…sex. Not necessarily in that order. He stepped into the pub and cast a wide net with his eyes. It was a cop thing. Taking in every person in the place, scanning the area, checking for potential problems. Habit.

He was surprised to see his younger brother Ryan at a table in the back corner with a bunch of friends he recognized from the DA’s office. His brother was an Assistant District Attorney and this pub was near the courthouse, apparently an ADA hangout. He made his way over to their table. “Hey Ryan, how’s it going?”

“It goes well, what are you doing here all by your lonesome?” Ryan asked.

“I’m working a case, and meeting someone here for an interview.”

“Well Danny, set your big ass down and take a load off until your interview shows up.”

Just then the band started again with “Hard Times,” one of his favorite songs. He looked up and gazed at the small, elevated stage and then he heard her voice. His eyes landed on the singer, and holy hell he couldn’t look away. She was gorgeous. Average height around five-feet-four inches, but nothing else about her was average. She was wearing a blue, long sleeved T-shirt, black jeans, and low-heeled black leather boots. The simple clothes could not hide her abundant curves. She had an amazing rack and a butt to match, his favorite combination. Voluptuous. Blonde, shoulder length hair framed a heart shaped face. Piercing blue eyes lit with pleasure as she belted out the tune. She was playing an acoustic guitar that looked to be a Gibson. Nice. A husky, deep voice poured from her body. Her voice reminded him of the late Eva Cassidy. It was unsettling hearing such a big voice from such a small frame. He closed his eyes and let the music flow over him.

Ryan started chuckling. “The drool does not become you.” The other guys at the table snickered. “Dream on Danny, she’s out of your league.”

“You have no idea what’s in my league. Do you know her?”

“Yeah, that’s Kate Shaw. She’s an ADA in the child abuse section, hard as nails and a real ball breaker, great lawyer though.”

“Aww, shit. That’s my interview.”

Dan scrubbed his hand over his five o’clock shadow. “She said to meet her here. I didn’t know she was performing.”

Ryan was still laughing at his big brother. “The band is Guilty As Charged. They’re a bunch of lawyers who perform here a couple times a month.”

“I’ve heard of them, but have never seen them play. They’re pretty good.” They had finished “Hard Times” and the woman was singing a Norah Jones song now. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Okay, time to put on his cop face and behave like the professional he was. No mixing business and pleasure. Being a grown up sucked.

It was approaching ten o’clock and that was the time she had told him to meet her.

As the song ended the band announced they were taking a break and would return shortly. She had given him a description of herself so he could find her when he arrived. A description that only included the basics of hair color, height, and what she’d be wearing, but that was sorely lacking in the luscious details department. Crap, get it together, Dan. Professional. Serious. Detective.

He approached the stage as she was bending over to pick up a water bottle. Jaysus, that was a fine ass. She caught him ogling her assets out of the corner of her eye, stood, and turned to face him. Busted. Setting her guitar on its stand she gave him the evil eye.

“Can I help you with something?” she said in a deadpan voice.


Auto-Watch Movies

Everyone has a list of movies that they’ll stop and watch when they’re aimlessly flipping through the channels, even if they’ve seen them a million times.  Without further ado, here are mine:

  •  Romancing the Stone
  • Independence Day
  • The Fifth Element
  • National Treasure
  • Saving Private Ryan
  • RED
  • Tremors
  • Practical Magic
  • ANY of the Bourne movies
  • ANY of the Oceans movies

So what are some of yours????

Guest Blog Goodness–Jessica Cale

Please welcome Jessica  Cale to the blog!

Most writers I’ve known say that writing is invigorating, while some say that it’s their therapy. How does your writing serve you? Do you express your life through the story or does the theme come from your vision?
It’s a little bit of both. It’s incredibly calming to disappear into a world of my own and as long as nothing reminds me of where I am (phone calls, neighbors, etc), I can stay there for hours without realizing it. It’s achieving something that’s invigorating. If I can finish one good scene, I feel great. Certain parts of my books are definitely drawn from personal experience, but the themes are more reflective of my vision and who I am. For example, I feel very strongly about equal rights across the board, so I try to write varied and interesting characters from all walks of life, while trying to keep things as historically accurate as possible. It’s my little attempt to correct history by representing the marginalized. It’s satisfying!

Who or what inspired you to write?
I don’t think I had a choice. There’s a picture of me sitting in front of a typewriter before I could walk. My grandmother wrote romance novels and children’s stories, and she was always writing or reading something when I went to her house. She gave me a typewriter when I was twelve, and I probably started writing creatively then. That typewriter (and the horror stories I wrote on it) got me through high school! I’ve always had stories in my head, and it made more sense to write them down than to let them drive me nuts.

What is the best way a reader can express their gratitude for the experience they had reading your work?
I would love it if readers would review my books on Goodreads, Amazon, or any other site, because reviews are wonderfully helpful to authors. Recommend it to your friends if you enjoyed it. You can also connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, Google+, Tumblr, Tsu, or even just through my website. I would love to hear from you. I’m really nice!

What advice would you give a new author?
Don’t give up! Keep writing! Writing is a process and it can take a long time, but don’t let that scare you. Anything you write can be edited later if you don’t like it, and just because one person passes on it doesn’t mean that it’s bad. Writing, like all art, is subjective, and somebody will enjoy your work. Keep working on it until you think it’s perfect, and then submit it until you find the right publisher or agent. I was very lucky to find my publisher as quickly as I did, and I’m thrilled to be with Liquid Silver. Submit to them and join the family! 😉

Have you done all the things in your book with your partner? That’s what I want to know 🙂
Well, we never tried to break somebody out of prison…

From toiling for pennies to bare-knuckle boxing, a lady is prepared for every eventuality.

Lady Jane Ramsey is young, beautiful, and ruined.

After being rescued from her kidnapping by a handsome highwayman, she returns home only to find her marriage prospects drastically reduced. Her father expects her to marry the repulsive Lord Lewes, but Jane has other plans. All she can think about is her highwayman, and she is determined to find him again.

Mark Virtue is trying to go straight. After years of robbing coaches and surviving on his wits, he knows it’s time to hang up his pistol and become the carpenter he was trained to be. He busies himself with finding work for his neighbors and improving his corner of Southwark as he tries to forget the girl who haunts his dreams. As a carpenter struggling to stay in work in the aftermath of The Fire, he knows Jane is unfathomably far beyond his reach, and there’s no use wishing for the impossible.

When Jane turns up in Southwark, Mark is furious. She has no way of understanding just how much danger she has put them in by running away. In spite of his growing feelings for her, he knows that Southwark is no place for a lady. Jane must set aside her lessons to learn a new set of rules if she is to make a life for herself in the crime-ridden slum. She will fight for her freedom and her life if that’s what it takes to prove to Mark—and to herself—that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Buy Links:virtueslady
Pre-Order from Liquid Silver for 20% off:

Twitter: @JessicaCale
Amazon Author Page:
Goodreads Author Page:


A key popped into the lock and the door opened with a creak. A turnkey stood guard in the narrow entrance, as if he was afraid Mark would escape.

Mark almost laughed. They’d put him in the heavy shackles they reserved for those who had escaped and been recaptured. It was Harry who was the escape artist, but Mark wouldn’t correct them. It was good that they thought he was a threat.

He was.

The turnkey carried a lantern bright enough for Mark to see his shining eyes and a shit-eating grin. “Someone likes you,” he said.

Mark rolled his eyes. “You tell Tilly that there’s not enough bread in Christendom—”

He trailed off as he saw a slender white hand emerge from the shadows of the hall to drop a coin into the turnkey’s palm. “For his shackles,” said a girl’s voice in a coarse accent he didn’t recognize.

“You want them on or off?”

“Off!” she snapped.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got the wrong cell, mate. I’m not expecting anyone.”

The turnkey leered. “Can I keep her, then?”

“Can you hell!” the girl protested. “I was sent for Mister Mark Virtue only. Bought and paid for. Hands off!”

The girl stepped into the light. The thin cloak she wore over it was for warmth more than modesty; a man would have to be blind not to see the body beneath it. Her lush curves were cinched into a scandalously low-cut dress the color of burnished gold, her flawless skin glowing in the warm light of the lantern. A yard or so of shining auburn hair spilled out of the hood that shadowed her face. Even had she kept it covered, he would have known her from the way his blood sang in her presence.

She glanced up at him from beneath the hood and he saw it.

The glint of steel in her eyes.

“This is only a shilling,” said the turnkey. “That’ll get you the hands or the feet. Not both.”

She arched an eyebrow at Mark. “Which is it? Hands or feet?”


Mark didn’t take his eyes off of her as the turnkey bent to unlock the shackles around his ankles.

“The lantern’s extra,” he said as he stood.

“Don’t need it,” Mark dismissed, rubbing his ankles.

“That’s a shame. She’s a treat! I’ll come get her later then. Wish I had friends like yours, Mark.” He closed the door behind him, and Mark heard the bolt slide into the lock with a heavy click.

He was locked in a cell in near perfect darkness with Jane Ramsey.

“It’s not my birthday.” He smiled.



Guest Blog Goodness–JC Conway

Please welcome JC Conway to the blog!

Most writers I’ve known say that writing is invigorating, while some say that it’s their therapy. How does your writing serve you? Do you express your life through the story or does the theme come from your vision?
I’m not sure there’s a distinction between those two things, but I think my stories reflect my vision more than my life. Not that you won’t see me in the stories. Some people very close to me insist they see me in my stories—often in characters that, on the outside, are about as different from me as night is from day. But, to the extent that observation is true (and it probably is), it’s consistent with my vision, which is that there is a little bit of each of us in each other. Writing actually helps me see that, and as I delve into a character’s motivations and flaws I learn more than I expect about what makes us all so understandably similar, despite dramatic differences in circumstances.

Who or what inspired you to write?
I don’t remember a time when I didn’t make up stories. When I was too young to express them in writing, they existed in pictures or toys and the tall tales I would add. So I would have to say I was either born with the inspiration, or my parents raised me in such a way, in my earliest formative years, that it was instilled before I knew it.

Inspiration didn’t stop there, of course. There were grade school teachers that saw that spark and kept it alive, each encouraging me in their own way. And there were those real writers that wrote stories that awed me—fantastic places and situations involving children I could relate to doing things I would have never imagined. From the time I could read I have always had a book I was reading—usually on the nightstand. Writers have touched me again and again with their imaginations and descriptive talents, and I have always wanted to do that, too, in whatever way I could, knowing that my voice is different from all others, just like each author that inspired me differed undeniably from each other.

What are your five “desert island” books?
This is always a hard question for me, because I’m not much of a re-reader. In fact, the only stories I can recall reading more than once were A Wrinkle in Time and Lord of the Rings. But I will select a new story over one I know if given a choice. (There are just too many wonderful stories and excellent writers out there.) So my list of five is a mix of re-reads and author picks:

  1. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle (I still love that one and will read it several more times)
  2. The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King (It’s the one King book I’ve read that isn’t a type of creepy horror story. I can’t get enough of the way he writes—his voice is amazing. But this is the only story (plot and setting-wise) that fits my taste—a suspenseful story about a girl lost in the woods)
  3. Something by Dickens that I haven’t read (his wry sense of humor gets me every time, and his straightforward approach to prose is just perfect—timeless, really)
  4. Something by Steinbeck that I haven’t read (a little more serious than Dickens, but always hits a note that resonates)
  5. Something by Janet Fitch that I haven’t read (I read White Oleander and Paint it Black—they both had an imagination and authenticity that felt beautiful)

What is the best way a reader can express their gratitude for the experience they had reading your work?

I guess the best thing a reader can do if my work strikes a good chord is to let others know in whatever way works for that reader, whether that be reviews, blogs or word of mouth. Stories are a personal experience. I love the stories I write and I share them hoping others will like them, too. Helping me share is a wonderful way to say thank you.

Have you done all the things in your book with your partner? That’s what I want to know 🙂
Definitely not—at least not in terms of location. One scene, in particular, takes place in the New Mexico desert atop a rock formation. It was romantic, under a starlit sky, and the characters used a ground cloth—so no dirt in the wrong places. But my partner has expressed little (make that “no”) interest in actually trying the great outdoors in such a way. Not that I’m ruling it out, mind you!

Hearts in Ruin is available in print or e-book formats:

You can learn more about J. C. Conway and his work at the following sites:


Andrea had one goal in life, a quiet career as a mainstream archaeologist—nothing more nothing less—and she’s one ancient secret away. When she is teamed with maverick prodigy Daniel Fuchs at his controversial pre-Clovis dig on tribal land, she soon realizes his wild theories may sidetrack her career. Her smartest move is to expose him and that is exactly what she plans to do. Except…he’s hot, sexy, and there is a chance his theories may be right.

As the dig deepens and outside forces mount, Andrea and Daniel find their careers and their shaky relationship on the brink of ruin. Who can she trust? To survive professionally and emotionally, Andrea must decide between what is expected and what she believes, because time is running out and the developers’ bulldozers are poised to level the site.

Delve into the mystery and excitement of an archaeological dig in the New Mexico desert and experience the drive, determination, and passion surrounding the quest to unlock the Paleolithic past in this contemporary, romantic suspense.Hearts In Ruin…no shovel required to join this adventure to discover an ancient truth!

PG-13 excerpt:

As the scene begins, archeologists Daniel and Andrea, who have been at odds about how their dig should be handled (despite an undeniable attraction to each other), are at a formal dinner at Daniel’s former university. Daniel is frustrated at being forced to navigate academic politics this evening instead of actively working in the field.


LSB Cover Art Template for PhotoShopLater in the evening, Daniel slipped out to the patio for a reprieve—just a few moments of peace. The wide balcony overlooked the east side of campus with the lights of town beyond, backed by the night shadows of the mesa. He inhaled. Even here, amid streets, buildings, miles of surrounding commercial and residential neighborhoods, the scent of the uncivilized desert predominated. Its stillness soothed him.

“So there you are.”

He turned, startled. Andrea stepped into view, stunning in Pamela’s dress. He’d seen her in it all evening, but not in the moonlight like this.

He struggled for composure. He hadn’t expected anyone to join him here, especially Andrea. She was a hit at the dinner, a fresh young woman, as smart as the stuffy regulars, but piercingly direct and good humored.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Sure.” She stepped toward him. “Except my date ditched me.”

“I didn’t think you needed me in there.”

Her eyes glinted. “So, you tired of the crowd?”

He laughed. She could not have nailed it much better. “Let’s just say I’ve already been to enough meetings, dinners, and functions of all kinds with this group to fill a lifetime.”

She stood next to him now at the railing and stared across the campus. “It’s a pretty school.”

He shrugged. “It has its charms.”

A subtle hint of perfume mingled seamlessly with the desert breeze. Amazing. Most of the women inside seemed anxious to disguise or completely cover up the smell and feel of the dry desert environment. But Andrea, who had never lived in the climate or even visited the desert before, chose a fragrance that accepted it and even complimented its arid beauty.

“Not all fake Ivy-League like the U,” she explained.

He smiled. “No. And if you have a thing for adobe and stucco then you can really learn to love it.”

She turned, leaning back against the railing. “The people seem nice,” she ventured. “I don’t really know why you left. Just because they didn’t support the dig? It seems you could’ve worked it out with these folks.”

Daniel could not tear his gaze from her profile and the bare shoulders just touched by soft and inviting golden-brown hair. But he was held by more than that. All of her qualities were admirable. Not only was she fascinatingly attractive, and perhaps even in spite of it, she was brilliant and clear minded, and she loved her work.

“They um…” Daniel’s throat thickened, as if he were trying to talk underwater. There was something about her—something between them that transcended this project, he knew. He’d been avoiding it. He wanted no complications during the dig. But that was only part of the problem. The fact was, he didn’t want to draw her too far into his private quest. He couldn’t do that to her. Not now, not at this critical juncture with her career poised to launch. It was bad enough that she was the project leader, and he hoped she didn’t have to explain that away the rest of her life after he finally published his findings. But why then, if he felt that way, did he recruit her? She was clearly in the running for a post at a good school. This project, once the controversy surfaced, was not a good stepping stone on that path. Did he really think if he kept her role limited that it could minimize the fallout to her career?

It had been different for him. He didn’t work so hard for his opportunities. He had been young when he reached that point. Just eighteen, still a kid. He met Madeline and willingly abandoned most of the career courses Andrea should follow. He was committed to his project. He never saw it as a choice. But how could he lead Andrea down the same path—especially after she worked so hard for so many years to gain a solid foothold in academia?

Andrea’s brow furrowed with contemplation and she turned to him. “I think you should have just stuck to your guns here. They like you more than you know.”

He drew a breath. “Not all of them.”

She lowered her chin. “You’re about as likeable as they get.”

He smiled, and without thinking, touched her hand. She didn’t retreat. The air warmed with electricity. A remnant of his rational mind searched for a response to her statement—a quip, a compliment, a rebuttal…anything. But the futile effort was overshadowed by the sharpening of his senses, an awakening triggered by her presence and warm touch.

“I uh…”

She turned to face him squarely. He touched her arm, feeling the impossible softness of her skin. Her hand touched his stomach and slide to his waist. Her expression shifted. Her eyes surveyed his face. Was she searching for resistance or its opposite? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he cared. But he could tell that this closeness was something they’d both thought about before.

The moment grew, nearly eclipsing all else. He knew in his mind and heart that if he didn’t embrace her now, the moment could vanish forever. His heart pounded. He did not weigh options. This was not a matter of choice. It was roaring compulsion. He leaned close. He felt the heat of Andrea’s cheek, her warm breath. Their lips brushed across each other. Daniel savored the soft pass once, twice, then opening slightly more and connecting, pressing, tasting and melding. His chest filled with fire. The world fell away. He reached around her, pulling her close. She nestled in, leaving no gap.

He felt no barrier between them. His lips touched her nose, her cheek, the crook of her neck. He returned to her lips and they tasted each other again. Andrea mewed. It felt right to be lost in her touch and her breath. Their chests heaved together. Their embrace softened. Daniel roamed the curve of her spine. She responded with equal, soft passion. He felt the release of a long, satisfied sigh.

They touched foreheads.

He smiled. She giggled lightly.

A rough, “Ahem,” broke the moment like shattered crystal. They weren’t alone.

Eyes widened, they released their holds and turned.

“I don’t mean to disturb you.”

Daniel regained his bearing. William Lassiter and Morgan Hamilton stood near the patio door holding cocktail tumblers.


Media Monday — True Detective

The hubster and I picked this up after hearing the rave reviews about this short, 8-episode series. Boy, were those rave reviews ever right! Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey hit this one out of the park with their portrayals of Detectives Marty Hart and Rust Cohle. As a mystery writer, the plotline had me hooked–mix it up with the characters of Marty and Rust and you’ve got a gripping psychological thriller that goes far beyond just the whodunit.

Set across the state of Louisiana, the gist is this–a young woman is found dead, posed, with ritualistic offerings left around and on her body.  The detectives work to solve her murder, and discover not only a deeper, more despicable evil, but secrets about themselves as well.

What was most interesting to me was the way the story unfolded.  After the 3d (or maybe 4th) epiosode, we then flash 17 years into the future, where we meet up with Marty and Rust again.  There has been a similar murder, and they’re brought in to answer questions about what they discovered.  As they’re questioned, the rest of the story unfolds.

Harrelson and McConaughey both do stellar jobs in their “before and after” sessions, with McConaughey’s change in appearance being the most surprising.

The only part about True Detective I didn’t care for was the gratuitous sex scenes.  I am by NO means a prude, but if we’re going to have a pretty vivid sex scene (or set of them), then it needs to further the plot.  Something needs to happen in that encounter that makes it worth showing, and with the exception of one (it was a major plot point, so I won’t go into it), it just didn’t happen.

Other than that small quibble, this was damned close to a perfect 8 hours of viewing pleasure.  We’ll be picking up the DVDs so we can watch it again, and pick up anything we might have missed.

Guest Blog Goodness–KT Black

Please welcome KT Black to the blog!!

Most writers I’ve known say that writing is invigorating, while some say that it’s their therapy. How does your writing serve you? Do you express your life through the story or does the theme come from your vision?

Writing doesn’t feel like a choice to me. It’s something I have to do. My imagination is always turned on. When I’m not writing, I’m thinking about what I could be writing. I love it. It’s the one thing that’s always made me happy.

When I fall into that perfect zone where the real world slips away, and my characters become real and speak to me, I enter this state of Zen where my writing is almost effortless. Not perfect, but a place where I let go and get out of my head.

It’s also therapeutic because I’m a bit introverted. Writing gives me a voice I don’t often have in real life. I can say things that I wish I would have, or needed to say without any repercussions. I think that’s why I have so much fun writing my antagonists.

Who or what inspired you to write? When I was four years old, I used to pretend I was writing books, I’m not certain why. It was years later, after reading the novel Rebecca when I was twelve that I became determined to make writing my profession. I got sidetracked a little bit along the way, but continued to write stories. I just never sent them out to anyone. Recently, I decided it was time to put the fear aside, take a chance and share my stories with the world.

What are your five “desert island” books? Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca (mystery/thriller/romance), Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic (witchy metaphysical), Janet Evanovich’s Four to Score (for sexy laughs), Stephen Donaldson’s Mirror of Her Dreams (science fiction/fantasy), and J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (because I’ll always be a kid at heart).

Have you done all the things in your book with your partner? That’s what I want to know 🙂 My couple is in a lesbian relationship, and I’m not a lesbian, so no, not exactly. Certain things I keep just between me and who I’m seeing. I don’t share it in my writing.

What advice would you give a new author? Don’t give up. If writing is your passion, don’t let fear or other people talk you out of doing it. Rejection sucks, but when someone finally tells you yes, it makes it all worth it.

Amazon Author Page:


Imagine Cinderella falling for the seductive charms of the Evil Queen. Wicked Magic is a modern retelling of an old favorite.

Magic is in the air after Chandler Gray silently wishes for her predictable work-filled life to change. When a mysterious woman, fascinated with beautiful images, moves in next door, Chandler finds herself falling under the spell of the last person she expects to make her happy. There’s just one problem:  an ex-girlfriend with a grudge and the power to curse her happiness.


Chandler rushed over to the other yard and said, “Here, let me help you.” She hunched down and began to round up the spilled items. Once everything was back in the sack, she gathered up the bag and stood.

When the woman noticed Chandler, her lips turned upward into a broad, friendly smile. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” she replied, feeling a bit awestruck. Before her stood a very beautiful raven-haired woman with hypnotic brown eyes and full red lips. As they stood next to one another, Chandler noticed the woman was taller than her by a few inches, and possessed a keen fashion sense. She was dressed in a light-colored tunic over a pair of skin-tight dark denim capris. On her feet she wore flat-heeled sandals that matched the color of her top. From the dark purple polish on her toenails to her make-up and hair, she looked flawless.

“Hello. I’m your new neighbor, Alexandra Doherty.” She held out her free hand, which Chandler accepted. “Everyone calls me Alex. You may as well, if you like.”

Chandler stared at her, feeling like a tongue-tied idiot, unable to respond. When she managed to make her mouth work, her face burned as her shyness overwhelmed her. “Um, I’m Chandler. Chandler Gray.”

Alex appeared intrigued. “Very nice to meet you, Chandler.” She peered into her eyes for a minute or two before her gaze drifted downward. She took her time, making it seem obvious as she took in Chandler’s body.

Her boldness surprised Chandler, but she found herself unable to move. When Alex shifted her focus to their joined hands, Chandler felt her stomach flip. A mischievous expression filled Alex’s face as she looked back up into Chandler’s eyes.

Chandler remained frozen in place until she felt the soft caress of Alex’s thumb on the back of her hand. Experiencing the initial stirrings of arousal, Chandler panicked and let go of Alex’s hand as she took a step backward.

Feeling embarrassed and a bit perplexed, Chandler shuffled from foot to foot, but couldn’t seem to look away from Alex. It was as if the woman had some unseen power over her.