Welcome my Next Guest Regina Paul! @reginapaul

I want to welcome Regina Paul. First I’d love you to introduce yourself.

Hi Barbara,

I'm happy to be here today. I live in Seattle, WA with my husband of twenty-seven years, and work in a busy hospital for my day job. I've been writing my entire life, and my first published piece was a poem when I was ten years old.

I write speculative romance fiction which basically means I love to mix genres. I write everything from sweet to erotic. When I'm not writing I love to read, color, go to powwows, create Native American beadwork, create paintings in the whimsey style, create digital art, and spend time with my husband, not necessarily in that order.

Tell us about your latest release.

My latest release is actually an adult coloring book called Pretty Mandalas. It has twenty-five mandalas for coloring. This is a relatively new venture for me, but I love drawing and creating mandalas, so I'm hoping my readers enjoy them as well!

Now I have a few questions for you – I have found readers do like to know fun things about us writers.

1.) Who is your favorite villain – it can be from a book (even one of yours), movie or TV show. And why?

My favorite villain is Zetara, the villain in my book Alien Deceptions. Why? I think because even though I wrote her, I had a hard time predicting what she was going to do in the book, she was constantly surprising me.

2.) Who is your favorite character out of your books? Why?

Honestly, I don't think I could pick a favorite character since I love all of my characters, but if I absolutely had to pick a favorite, for now it would Rain from my upcoming release The Last Jumper. Why? Because I can identify with him, he's Native American, was raised with Native American spiritual traditions and he's endured a lot of really difficult life experiences. I can relate to his emotional pain very well.

3.) What genre do you write? What made you pick that one?

Oh, man that's the thing I write in multiple genres because I can't just pick one, and I love to mix them. I have books that are Native American Romantic Suspense, Erotic Science Fiction, single partner, multiple partner and everything in between. About the only thing that is a sure thing is that most of my characters have Native American ancestry. I choose to write in multiple genres and to mix genres because my storylines just don't fit one genre by themselves.

4.) What are you working on now?

I'm working on polishing up a story I call The Last Jumper.  Here's the tentative blurb for your reading pleasure:

From the moment his family was murdered, Rain has been on a mission to kill or send back to hell as many demons as he can. To do so he has had to "jump" from one body to another, allowing him to live the equivalent of several lifetimes, and to follow humanity and the demons out into space. When Rain awakens, it is not in the place he fell asleep. It isn't even on the same planet, and there are no more Jumpers. He discovers that while he was sleeping the demons have been very busy.

Connor, Stephen, and Jessie are husbands and fathers. On a world where some men are able to procreate, quad relationships are the norm, and Jumpers are just a part of their ancient history, Rain is something of an anomaly. But maybe a welcome one. The three men take Rain home with them, and help him to recover, at least physically. It becomes clear though that Rain hasn't just been fighting demons outside himself, but ones from within as well.

Will these three men and their sons be able to help Rain heal? Love isn't part of the bargain for Rain or so he thinks, but bonding with Connor, Stephen, and Jesse may be the only thing that can save his new family and their world.

5.) What got you to start writing?

I've always loved telling and reading stories. I used to tell my friends and my younger brother stories. As I got older and began having my own ideas for stories (and believing I could do a better job than some of stories I was reading) I started writing them down. Eleven years ago I finished my second novel which became my erotic scifi romance Alien Deceptions.

6.) Where do you get your ideas from?

Everywhere you can think of. I got the idea for Alien Deceptions from a dream I had. Sometimes I get ideas from asking "what if?" about particular scenarios. Sometimes I get ideas from movies and TV shows, or books I've read. I've even got ideas from looking at photos online and asking myself about the people or animals in them.

7.) What would people who read your work be surprised to find out about you?

I'm actually a very outgoing person. My characters tend to be rather introverted, and I'm exactly the opposite!

8.) Do you have any special talents?

Besides writing, I create cover art for authors and edit books. I also paint mixed media paintings, create 3D digital art using a program called Daz Studio, and create Native American beaded jewelry. Also I occasionally I fiddle with photography as well.

9.) What was the one piece of advice you received when you were an aspiring author that has stuck with you? Why?

Never stop writing regardless of what anyone tells you about your writing. It was the one piece of advice that stuck with me because there are those out there who will tear apart an aspiring author's book, and not in a nice way, but in ways that tear you down not just as a writer but as a person. I ran into a few in my early career, and I nearly stopped writing forever. It was only when I hooked up with other published authors who had also experienced this, and who encouraged me to keep going that I kept writing.

10.) If you could talk to any famous figure (present, past or fictional) who would it be and what would you talk about?

Black Elk. I've always been interested in how to fit Native Spiritual traditions into modern life, so I would be talking to this elder about that.

11.) What song would you say describes your life?

Don't worry, Be Happy.

12.) If you could come back as any animal – what would it be?

That's easy, a wolf.

Excerpt from Through a Dark Mirror by Regina Paul

“In the news tonight, several artifacts have been stolen from a Native American museum on the Warm Springs Reservation.”

Summer listened as the talk turned to the robbing of graves and how it was now a felony to do so. “Should’ve been made a felony from the get-go,” Summer said to herself.

The news moved from the topic of Indian artifacts, grave robbing, and recent thefts to the Iraq war, and that was when Summer flipped the channel again. Something light; I’ve had too much heavy stuff lately. She switched to the Disney Channel and watched as Cody and Zack got into trouble on The Suite Life.

She didn’t often have time for television, but when she did, she could usually be found watching one of the kids’ channels. The responsibilities of maintaining her shop were heavy enough without enlisting the help of nighttime television, although she enjoyed watching shows like Medium and Charmed. She found some of the newer episodes of Charmed to be rather hilarious, but missed the older ones where they’d stayed truer to the core of Wicca. Although everyone knew there was little there that could be termed reality.

Summer finished her dinner with the end of Zack and Cody’s antics, turned off the television via remote and decided to call it a night. It was only 9:00 pm, but she hadn’t slept well the night before, bent over her steering wheel and wondering how she was going to get some help. Leaving her cell phone back at her apartment was not the brightest thing she’d ever done.

She rinsed off her plate and glass in the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. Preparing for bed was easy enough, what with the fact she had already changed into loose cotton pants and t-shirt. It was just a matter of settling in.

Summer turned on the bedside lamp, intending to read for a bit, and climbed underneath the comforter. It felt so soft against her skin, and the weight was just enough for her to burrow in and feel cozy. She picked up Dark Celebration, the latest in Christine Feehan’s Dark series, and prepared to be surprised at the turn the story was taking, only to fall asleep and fall into a dream.

Where was he? She wondered. She had been watching for him for hours while she worked on the wounded. Had he been wounded or killed? Her heart clenched at the thought; she wouldn’t be able to bear it if he had.

Her energy levels were waning, and she called on the Spirits to help her to replenish them. At the same time, she laid her palms on the ground, allowing the energy from the wound to drain into Mother Earth. With this action she felt the minute pain pass through her as well. She continued the song she’d been singing beneath her breath, and flushed the wound with fresh water once more before packing the opening in the man’s side with dried purple coneflower root to prevent infection, and wrapping it with clean elk skin.

She left the lodge, her eyes quickly scanning the horizon. Where was he?

A branch from a tree outside Summer’s window scraped across the glass, wrenching her from the strange dream. She sat up with a start, the book she’d been reading falling with a thump to the carpet.

Summer went over the dream in her mind. She knew a little about Native healing practices, but nothing with the amount of detail she’d felt herself having in the dream. Afraid the details would escape her if she waited until morning to write them down, and feeling they were somehow important, she pulled a spiral notebook from the bedside table drawer and began recording what she could remember. It was a technique her Aunt had taught her when she was small and having nightmares after her parents were killed. Her Aunt had explained that if she could remember her dreams and write them down, even the scary ones, that she could then begin trying to understand what they were telling her.

Summer smiled fondly as she recalled her Aunt, gone for four years now. Her dreams had become more rich and detailed once she’d started writing them down. In time, the nightmares had faded away with the understanding she’d gained from recognizing the symbols within her dreams and what they meant to her personally.

However, she’d never had a dream where she appeared to be someone else and possessed knowledge that she did not have in waking life. She’d heard of reincarnation, of course, and didn’t discount the possibility, but since she’d never experienced anything that had led her to believe she had lived before, she’d filed away the information as a possibility not applicable to her.

Suddenly, the landline in the living room began ringing insistently. Summer threw back the covers and got up to check the caller ID. She glanced at the clock and saw it was 10:30 pm. Who could be calling at this hour? The few friends she had, and her many business contacts, knew better than to call her after 9:00 pm. When the phone rang twice more, she raced into the living room.

The caller ID screen on her wireless was blank, giving her no clue as to who it might be. Figuring whoever was on the other end was blocking their number, she hesitated before finally picking it up.

“Hello?”

Summer could hear someone breathing harshly on the other end, but the person didn’t respond. “Hello?” she repeated firmly, in case it was someone hard of hearing. This time someone answered her, but the language wasn’t English. The voice sounded like shoes walking over gravel, and there was a static sounding over it when the voice spoke.

 “I think you have the wrong number,” she said. Since the person wasn’t speaking English, clearly someone had dialed wrong. She had hung up and turned to go back to bed when the phone began ringing again.

When the caller ID was again blank, she turned off the ringer and made her way back to the bedroom, resigned to a crank caller. If the second call was from someone she knew, they could just leave a message on her voicemail.

Yawning loudly and stretching up on her toes before twisting from side to side, Summer heard her spine crack and laughed. The sound echoed eerily, startling her. While the building was old, it was odd that anything would echo, as though the rooms were empty.

The glow from her bedside lamp spilled into the living area, casting shadows on the walls and windows.

Her eyes glanced over to the bay windows in the south of the room. A chill raced up her spine when for a second, an image seemed to appear in the glass, and it was not a pleasant one. Whatever it was seemed to be nothing more than skin hanging off of a skeleton and glowing red eyes.

Summer put one hand to her throat, backing up. It can’t be real! she thought. The figure almost seemed to loom from the glass and enter the room. Her throat closed on a scream, but then she blinked, and the image disappeared.

She sprinted to the different light switches around the room and turned them all on before she felt like she could walk up to the glass and look out. Nothing. The parking lot beneath her two-story apartment and shop was empty, but well lit as usual. No one was walking around, and her Benz appeared unharmed by the illusion she’d seen.

The vision on top of the dream and the strange phone call had rattled her. What does it all mean, if anything? Were the incidences even related?

          For the first time, she was uncomfortable and didn’t feel safe in her own home. Summer wrapped herself up in a hug, for once wishing that she didn’t live alone. Maybe it was time to get a roommate…

Bio:

Regina Paul lives in Seattle, WA with her husband of twenty-three years. A long time resident of the Pacific Northwest, she cannot imagine living anywhere else, although she would love to see more of the world, particularly Hawaii, Greece, Australia, and New Zealand, not necessarily in that order. 

Regina has several books available which include No Place to Run, A Gift From Home, Lilly's Choice, Lilly's Christmas Surprise, Destiny's Choices, Destiny's Holiday, Through a Dark Mirror, and Frost, Flame and Flower. Regina calls her writing speculative romance because she writes across genres and heat levels depending on her mood.

When Regina is not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband, reading m/m paranormal romance, which is her all time favorite, writing, painting, creating Native American beadwork and  3D art. 

Regina loves to hear from readers, so please feel free to e-mail her anytime at regina@reginapaul.com

Regina's Links:

Website: http://www.reginapaul.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/reginapaul

Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/Fans-of-Speculative-Romance-Author-Regina-Paul-306979599320/

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/reginapaul

Newsletter for freebies and updates: http://eepurl.com/bhEOCL

Welcome My latest Guest Glenn Maynard! @GlennMaynard64

I want to welcome Glenn Maynard. First I’d love you to introduce yourself.

Tell us about your latest release.

Desert Son is a paranormal romance novel which includes out-of-body, past-life-regression hypnosis and reincarnation. Carter Spence is involved in a car accident and has an out-of-body experience, finding himself overlooking his own accident, which took the life of his parents. He walks through heaven and meets a woman who claims to be his mother, then reunites with his body and tries to follow signs to figure out what the woman meant. This is when he meets Brenda, and they begin to figure things out as they head west. When they stay with old man Martin in an old white house in Boulder, Colorado, they find diaries and experience strange behavior from Martin which catapults them into answers they wish they never found.

Now I have a few questions for you – I have found readers do like to know fun things about us writers.

1.) Who is your favorite villain – it can be from a book (even one of yours), movie or TV show. And why?

Jack Nicholson in The Shining. The line between reality and fiction is so fine and that’s what makes him such a believable character. He is totally insane, yet so believable as a character that you forget he’s just an actor playing the part.

2.) Who is your favorite character out of your books? Why?

My favorite character is Brenda because she brings so much to the table and helps the main character, Carter Spence, search for his real identity. She is smart, witty, pretty, and sassy. She can take care of herself, don’t you worry about that, and she always seems to come up with the right answer at the right time to move the storyline along. They work well together, and both have a vested interest in the answers they seek.

3.) What genre do you write? What made you pick that one?

I began my writing career with a non-fiction book about my one-year journey through the 48 continental states in an RV, entitled “Strapped into an American Dream.” I then began writing paranormal, having developed a fascination with accounts of reincarnation in Asia. Even my leap from travel book to out-of-body travel book was paranormal. That’s where I am now. It could change, but not a lot, and there will always be dark overtones in my fiction. That’s the way life is sometimes. Everybody will face darkness, and not just at night. I’ll bring that darkness during the day and raise you five.

4.) What are you working on now?

I am editing book three of the Desert Son trilogy, having just released book two, Wayward Soul, on January 7, 2016. There is plenty of action in the third book as well, and I’m trying to get it out there as quickly as I can. I’ve convinced myself that I can publish one book per year. My published books timeline is 2009, 2014, and 2016, so 2017 is not an unrealistic goal, since I’m on my second draft. There’s still a lot of work to be done, though.

5.) What got you to start writing?

I remember being in first grade and my mother sitting me down and telling me that my teacher called about a story that I wrote, which she said was very good. That made enough of an impact on me to remember it 40-plus years later. When I was in college, my family members used to send me money (they didn’t know it was beer money) and I would send a Thank You note back in poetry form. They were funny poems, and soon more money would come my way from family members wanting a poetic thank you. It was a win-win deal, and I always seemed to win with my ability to write.

6.) Where do you get your ideas from?

I get my ideas from Reading books and newspapers, watching movies, and use these story lines as bases to spin a whole new tale. My books are a combination of stories and people that I’ve come across in my life. There are so many directions to take a story, and storylines evolve during the writing process for me. I get anxious to see where the story line takes me and how my characters get out of the scrapes they are faced with.

7.) What would people who read your work be surprised to find out about you?

They would be surprised to know that as much patience it takes to being a writer, I am the most impatient person you will come across. Maybe it comes with age, but even stop lights have me throwing my head back. When I sit down to write or edit, all of this unused patience from my day is released during these creative moments.

8.) Do you have any special talents?

My special talent is creating book-length stories. I also play acoustic guitar and sing, but the world will be a better place if I stick to writing.

9.) What was the one piece of advice you received when you were an aspiring author that has stuck with you? Why?

The one piece of advice that I received was just prior to the publication of my first book. Someone told me that “the only one who truly gives a sh*t about your book is you.” I found that to be the truth. It is 100% up to me to promote my book. If I don’t market it every day, then nobody will know about my book. For the most part, small publishers publish. Writers write, and they also market what they write.

10.) If you could talk to any famous figure (present, past or fictional) who would it be and what would you talk about?

I would talk to John Lennon about his life and learn more about his path to fame. I would also talk to him about how he went about pumping out so many hit songs with that British band. What was his process?

11.) If you could come back as any animal – what would it be?

I would come back as a Cheetah so that I could outrun all the predators.

Blurb:

Carter Spence is a 26 year-old accountant out of Boston who has an out-of-body experience following a car accident that kills his parents.  He views the chaos from above the scene of the accident, then passes through the tunnel and reunites with relatives who have long been dead.  A woman he does not recognize approaches him and says, “Welcome, son.”  Her message to him is that he needs to be aware of his true identity and should follow signs that will lead him there. She mentions mountains, but Carter is jolted back into his physical body before she can finish.

After burying his parents, Carter heads west and meets a free-spirit named Brenda, whom he is drawn to on many levels. She becomes his travelling companion and leads him to Boulder, Colorado, and to an old white house of an old man named Martin. Diaries, hypnosis, and past-life regression reveal a bizarre connection between these three. Carter discovers that the truth to his identity can only be found by pursuing the answer to whether he is the reincarnation of his biological father in what is shaping up to be a love affair rekindled beyond the grave.

 Excerpt:

           Darkness swirled around Carter.  He snuck a final glimpse at his body below.  Instead of sympathy, he felt a dose of blissfulness injected into him.  Even though a commotion muddied the scene, Carter focused on how wonderful he felt, how carefree, and he hadn’t remembered feeling this way in all of his time below.

He felt as though helium detracted him from his body, but contentment resisted his fight to stay.  He concentrated intensely on staying put for the time being, at least until he could better make heads or tales of reality.

A vacuum-like suction whisked Carter away, and although darkness enveloped his scene, he did see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Carter thought about that expression for a moment, thus connecting it to its origin.  This happened in a flash.  He felt like a big smile.  The tunnel seemed like it should be frightening, but Carter was not frightened.  He just wanted closer to the light, which brightened, and brightened some more, and then some.  He wondered how such brightness did not even make him squint.  Carter certainly felt at home with this light.  He wanted to be part of it.

Although he could still catch glimpses of his lifeless body at the beginning of the tunnel, his desire to move forward at the speed of thought overpowered anything else.  His buoyancy, as odd an occurrence to the average person, did not particularly knock him for a loop.  He just went with the flow.

Carter found himself with a permanent smile plastered onto his face. The harmony was intense. The air was thin. Carter noticed he could breathe easier. His overall feeling could not improve. He lost his sense of smell, but that was irrelevant. Everything that was relevant he had, and this was the reason for his eternal bliss.

He took it all in.  He soaked it all up, bathing in these gifts. He wished to go nowhere else. He did a 360-degree swirl, which felt magical.  He did not know how he did it, nor did he know why he could do it, but he did know that he didn’t care about the logistics. In this results based world, the only thing that mattered was that he could do it, and he questioned it no further.

He took in the horizons, the lack of architecture, and the people going about their business. He saw a landscape which was way above the clouds and dropped off as it did with earth and sky. However, there were no buildings to blemish his view. Only trees and people dotted this Eden-like landscape. He did notice his stress level felt like zero. His body just drifted about, sometimes using his legs and sometimes not. He didn’t really need limbs anymore and felt like they had become obsolete. Carter realized that this is probably why humans go there when they retire.

As he floated toward the end of the tunnel, Carter saw gardens with vibrant greens, yellows and reds.  Birds chirped away in colorful harmony, the most beautiful songs, soaring, arms outspread, and he craved to shadow them.  Voices filled the heavens with music, but the sources remained out of sight.

A woman he didn’t recognize greeted him as he completed his journey.  The communication that followed did not take place in the ordinary verbal, earthly way, although Carter thought he could hear words.  The mysteriousness in which this communication transpired had no immediate effect on Carter.  It seemed normal, and he did not question it.  Rather, he just moved along as if this was a prescribed plan.

Telepathy is what Carter would described it as, and the two transposed each other’s thoughts.  He felt some love in his lifetime, but the love he presently felt far exceeded any prior love he had experienced.  I guess it was that the love here existed in the air; there was no fishing for it.  He was loved during his lifetime, and he knew it, but he could not explain how different this love was.  He felt different because of it, and that’s all he knew.

Love plastered itself all around, unconditionally, and contagious enough that Carter chuckled at the very thought of returning to life as he knew it.  He felt as if he had reached Nirvana.  He’d had this loving feeling once before, but the situation had escaped him.  Particular feelings can be familiar, and in this case the feeling was indeed a repeat, but it was tucked deeply away as a vague memory.

Carter scrutinized his beautiful surroundings.  Singing continued with the birds as well as the human-like voices in heavenly harmony.  He wished he could see the singers just to see if they really played the harp up here.  The sound was that special.  He always wished he could play an instrument, but suffered from feelings of musical idiocy.  But up here he felt would be his best chance to pull it off, and there’d be no critics. Precision attracted no such folks.

He saw no shadows, and the landscape spread forever.  So this is what it’s like to die, he thought.  The funny part about this thought was that he had been petrified of death in life.  Now death became his preference.  But maybe he was an optimist, he thought.  He thought that this brought new meaning to the saying, “the grass is always greener on the other side.”

He took in a panorama, noticing the brightness of the colors.  It would be unjustifiable to even think about comparing them with what he was used to.   The glossiness could not be surpassed by the earthly colors, and they enveloped his surroundings.  He slowly rotated his head to observe them in the trees, the bushes, and the gardens, just to name a few.  Everything sparkled.  He wished he could have experienced this for his 25 years on earth.  Instantly, Carter fell in love with this place.

Then he began to wonder if this was real life, and what he had experienced prior to this moment was just a dry run.  Maybe life on earth is nothing more than an SAT score is to college.  He felt that if he communicated that idea to those below, then they could be reunited sooner than later.

Carter suddenly began decoding the messages that the woman had been instilling into him.  When she greeted him, she had put her arms out in front of her and said, “Welcome, desert son.”

The heavens seemed to pause for Carter.  Not only did it perplex him in the way she said it, but with the message itself.  He thought that maybe he misread it.  Clearly, this was not Carter’s mother.  His mother had not arrived yet, and even though he believed she probably would, this woman hardly resembled her.

This woman was much taller than his mother, and had long, dirty blonde hair.  His mother wore her black hair short and curly.  This lady looked frail for her young age, but Carter’s mother had at least 25 pounds to lose.  And the rough skin on his mother could not have turned so soft.  Not a chance, thought Carter.  They don’t have one similar feature.

Then Carter lightened up when he thought of his mind even processing such silly thoughts.  After all, “son” can be used generically.  There doesn’t have to be a bloodline.  Maybe she simply did not know his name.  Maybe she was referring to the sun from a hot desert, he wondered.  He let his mind release what it had just accumulated, and returned the greeting as he followed the woman at her side.

Carter wondered why death on earth was so tragic. This idyllic setting is where everyone ends up. Sure they celebrate people’s lives at funerals, but he thought they should celebrate it as a Going Away party. Many people believe in the afterlife and many believe that the end is the end. You never really know until you pass over. Carter now knew. He also knew that the people who possess the truth cannot relay it back to earth.  Those who do relay the information back to earth Carter knew as “Quacks,” and that’s probably why the truth has yet to successfully navigate its way to earth.

The irony of it is linked to all the worry about people who pass on. Oh, how bad are death and taxes? Death, worse for the family then it is for the deceased, but isn’t that statement loaded? With tears flowing for the next several years by those left behind, it’d be nice if they knew that one day they would be reunited. If they only knew it was a temporary setback. If they only knew ahead of time that it’s only like a child going off to college. They’ll be back.

Carter found this to be comforting and soothing, and healing for those who have lost loved ones. The thought that you only say goodbye “for now” would bring great comfort to those left behind.  They would be together again in the future.  What a joyful thought that would turn funerals and wakes on its ears.  The theme would be to say goodbye for now.

Carter was able to look down and get a bird’s eye view of the people in his life. All he had to do was think of someone and the channel would change to a picture of their life at that moment.  It was live television. Carter was like a kid with a new toy. He was amazed that he had so much control over who he contacted, yet he had no control over sending messages. The only control of message sending came in the form of incoming prayers from people alive on earth to those who have passed on. Carter wondered why on earth there was no way to transmit messages from north to south.

Links:

Website: http://www.glennmaynard.weebly.com/
Twitter: http://bit.ly/1TL1etJ
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1XQNa20
Desert Son: http://amzn.to/1XqHOzC
Wayward Soul: http://amzn.to/1P9a96O

Welcome my latest guest Janet Lane Walters!

Sorry I'm a day late again - I will get better and things settle at home.

I want to welcome Janet Lane Walters.

I’ve been writing for 46 years though some of those years were taken mainly by returning as a nurse to help finance children through college. Also to find my way to two degrees. A BA in English and a BS in Nursing. The number of my children are four and they’ve given me seven grandchildren. My youngest daughter is biracial and adopted. Four of the grandchildren are her children. The other three grandchildren are adopted and are Chinese. So I’ve a rather eclectic family. I currently live in the scenic Hudson Valley, not far from some interesting and historical places. I write romance, fantasy, mysteries and occasionally suspense. I’ve had short stories published and also a handful of poems.

Tell us about your latest release.

My latest release is called Divided Dreams. It’s about a doctor who has given up medicine to write, his dream since he was a teen. The heroine is returning to town after swearing never to return to where the hero hurt her. The arrival of their niece, her brother and his sister, complicate their lives. So does the return of her brother. Can they renew their love and make a home for the little girl?

Now I have a few questions for you – I have found readers do like to know fun things about us writers.

1.) Who is your favorite villain – it can be from a book (even one of yours), movie or TV show. And why?

My favorite villain is from one of my own books “Code Blue.” He doesn’t have a name until the end. Actually though he’s twisted he is also a nice person and his motive for the multitude of killings is one he considers a justified.

2.) Who is your favorite character out of your books? Why?

What a difficult question. I’m rather fickle. The character or characters I love the best from one of my books is usually a character in my current WIP. Right now it’s Lorana who can hear and speak to dragons and until she decided to escape from slavery in the citadel of the wizards of Fyre heard no dragons. She has courage and determination and wants revenge but she must learn that revenge isn’t the tasty dish she imagined.

3.) What do genre do you write? What made you pick that one?

Another interesting question. I write romance contemporary, paranormal, fantasy and historical. I also write mystery and occasionally suspense. I’ve written short stories and poems. A bit of YA fantasy and also several non-fiction books. Why did I choose them – probably because I like to read them. At a conference I heard a writer mention that writing what you like to read is a good idea. I’m just an eclectic writer.

4.) What are you working on now?

I am working on The Wizards of Fyre, the third in a four book series. This is a fantasy romance with two villains who must be defeated. The hero is a wizard but not of the line of wizards. He is adopted and has been pushed aside after his mentor dies. I talked about the heroine above. There is also a Dragon who is so old he can’t remember his name. He plays a major role in the story.

5.) What got you to start writing?

I always write from the time I could hold a pencil, but I decided to become published much later in life. I had a bad case of pneumonia and my sister-in-law sent me a bag of nurse romances. Among them were some of the worst books I’ve ever read. Many of the writers had no idea about medicine, hospitals and nurses and doctors. So I decided to learn how to write a novel and the game was on.

6.) Where do you get your ideas from?

I have no real idea where my ideas arise. I’ve blamed it on a twisted mind since creativity is akin to madness. A book by Rollo May by this title led me to this conclusion. The ideas appear to hover in the air and them I pluck then. The stories don’t always follow the original idea but take off from there.

7.) What would people who read your work be surprised to find out about you?

I will try to think of something. If not I’ll make it up. I am a writer. Perhaps the fact that I’ve been married to the same man for fifty-six years. It’s called endurance or the survival of the fittest.

8.) Do you have any special talents?

Not sure what special talents are but on occasion I’ve had bits of ESP show up in my life. Perhaps in dreams or even in sending thoughts. Another may be that for years I composed music and never learned how to play an instrument.

9.) What was the one piece of advice you received when you were an aspiring author that has stuck with you? Why?

Finish the book. When I heard this at a conference back when my career began, I decided that was great advice. I became a draft writer because of this advice. I always finish a rough draft of my books before I go back and make them right.

10.) If you could talk to any famous figure (present, past or fictional) who would it be and what would you talk about?

I can think of a few but probably Jane Austin. We would talk about how one brings ordinary life of the times into a book. I would also like to talk to Tolstoy about why he allowed Anna Karenina to commit suicide. That has bothered me since I read the book for a book report in third grade and nearly was expelled. Not for reading the book but for suggesting all the other things she could have done and the real reasons she had to live.

11.) What song would you say describes your life?

Not much into songs with words but I’d say the 1812 Overture is how I often feel and is a piece I have a dozen versions of and have been known to play them back to back.

12.) If you could come back as any animal – what would it be?

Some kind of big cat. Not a lion. They’re kind of scruffy. A tiger or a puma or a jaguar. I love the look of them and often watch National Geographic channel when they’re on.

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Melodic Dreams (Moon Child)  

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 Excerpt:

To the sounds of her nephew banging notes on a xylophone, Maria emptied the last box of kitchenware she’d found at the thrift shop less than a block from the apartment complex. She paused and laughed. She knew that song, the theme from Jeopardy, her mother’s favorite program.

She drew a deep breath. So much to do to make this one bedroom apartment into a home for her four year old nephew. Beds to make, clothes to unpack. She needed to buy curtains to cover the blinds and add color to the ecru walls. She’d been fortunate. The woman from the Human Resources Department at Fern Lake General had found this place.

Last night, she and Jamie had slept on the green carpet in the living room pretending to be camping. This morning the furniture and other purchases from the thrift shop had been delivered.

Jamie finished his rendition with a sweep of the hammer over the keys. She leaned against the counter and loaded their bowls from lunch into the dishwasher.

Maria drew a deep breath. Inside, she quivered with tension she refused to allow to show. She must succeed.

Enough dawdling. There was a man she needed to see. Her gut clenched.

“Jamie, put your toys away. We’re going to see your father.” And pray the man agrees to pay for Jamie’s pre-school while she worked. Two weeks from today, she started at the local hospital as an occupational therapist.

“Will he like me?” Jamie asked.

She hated the worry in the boy’s voice and in his brilliant green eyes. She ruffled his dark curls. “What’s not to like?”

“He never came to see me.”

Maria sucked in a breath. She could have tried to locate the man years ago, but her mother had been adamantly opposed. “He didn’t know about you. Nana didn’t know his last name.” Maria brushed hair from her face. They could have learned. She couldn’t tell Jamie about his grandmother’s anger. Guilt curled in her thoughts.

Jamie looked up. “How did you know?”

“When we were packing to sell Nana’s house, I found some papers in a suitcase your mama left. I saw his name and looked for him.”

Jamie nodded. “Uncle Carlo said my mama runned away ‘cause my dad was mean.” His eyes widened.

She put her fingers on his lips. “What does Uncle Carlo know?”

“Just TV and beer.”

Maria popped toys in her huge bag and walked to the door. They rode the elevator to the semi-enclosed parking area and her battered ten year old blue sedan. She fastened Jamie into his booster seat.

Twenty minutes later with only one wrong turn, she pulled into the U-shaped driveway leading to a huge house at the top of the rise. She rehearsed what she planned to say when she saw Jamie’s father. She swallowed against a lump in her throat. How would he react when she handed him the folder with her reasons for being in Fern Lake?

“Is that the house?” Jamie pointed up the hill. “Looks like a castle.”