Listening to Your Editor, Listening to Yourself, Listening Out Loud by Lou Kemp – Guest Blog and Giveaway

May 16, 2022 By 6 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Lou Kemp will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner, a 2nd randomly drawn winner a mug and pen with the book image and a 3rd randomly drawn winner will win a eBook via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Listening to Your Editor, Listening to Yourself, Listening Out Loud

All views expressed below are either personal experiences or advice from other authors I trust. The worth of this information has been verified by a steady improvement in my writing and in the comments that I receive from readers. A review from an astute reader will also mention what isn’t working, and that is like gold.

If you are a beginning writer…

Avoid:

Run away if a friend or relative offers to critique your writing (of course after thanking them, and perhaps even telling them why). A critique by a parent or close friend will usually be tainted with:

a) pride in knowing you are a writer, protecting you from bad news, and withholding what they thought,
b) fear of telling you what they thought so as not to hurt your feelings,
c) they may see something that needs to be changed, but are not sure why, so they do not mention it.
d) all of the above

This situation will not propel your skills forward, it could even give you a false sense of security that will eventually be blown apart when you try to sell your work.

Covet:

Writing Groups and writers conferences, whether online or in person. There are many types, and like shoes you may need to try on a dozen till you find the one that is just right, not too advanced, or not too junior of a group, not too cold, or not too hot, but just right.

Once part of a writers’ group, don’t feel obligated to read your writing to them until you are ready. When you do, listen to the feedback. Beware there are some authors in the group who may not be a good match for your purposes. To decide, take all feedback in, digest it, and determine if it is valid. Example: if more than one critique complains about the way you use the word “anyhow,” then it is probably time to rethink how you use it. If you balk at a particular suggestion, get another unbiased opinion, and compare. If both say the same thing…time to change it.

When others in the group are reading their writing, listen to what works and what doesn’t and apply it to your writing (it doesn’t have to be the same genre—you’re looking for pacing, characterizations, skill, and more). You’ll hear kernels of ideas from other writers to water, and watch grow into something fantastic. Are their characters vivid and wonderful, but there isn’t a discernable plot? Does it sound like your cat wrote it? Is the plot stellar, and you can picture it as a movie someday?

Listen to yourself:

Decide if you are writing just for yourself, or to make money. If it is money and glory you want, you’ll need an editor eventually. This stage is sometimes known as beta reading, but that is a loose interpretation. Beta readers come in a variety of experience and are at times used to see if the work is on the right track, and at other times they occur right before the book debuts. Just like a writers’ group, one editor’s point of view will not be another editors. Case in point: In my Celwyn series I’ve heard complaints about how I use the character Bartholomew. I also hear feedback that he is not only loved but readers follow what he does and can’t wait for the next book. These are completely differing points of view, and I tend to take it somewhere in the middle.

Again, there are dozens of levels of editors with the prices to match. The amateur editor/friend will do initially, but…they are usually limited. Really good editors are not there to just correct your grammar (line editing), but to use their innate sense of what is missing, what is not moving fast, where the scene is not set up with enough detail, where you write something illogical or without any background to justify it (one of my habits), where the piece is going and how will you get there with it?

If you notice things still do not read like you think they should, or that much of your feedback points to problems, look for another editor, preferably one with a good track record and who does it professionally. There are also writing classes, good ones, out there.

A final word about editors: I know of no one, big or small, who snagged a great literary agent without having their work edited by a professional.

Two tricks:

One, when you have finished a section or major part of your writing, let it sit at least 2 weeks without looking at it. Then, read it. You will see much you didn’t before because we subconsciously memorize what we write and think it is wonderful. It isn’t.

Two, ask someone (now is the time for a friend or relative) to read your writing out loud while you are sitting there. You will hear plenty you didn’t see when you edited it yourself.

Quotes:

A great quote can set the tone, explain life, scare the beejeebers out of a reader, or up the tension until the reader swears it is dripping off the walls. One of my favorites, just to explain life, that I have given Celwyn is:

“Xiau, I’d miss Earl Grey very much if I died.” This is usually repeated by someone every time he is wounded, and almost dies.

As the music dies, the magician Celwyn is mortally wounded. His darker, immortal brother Pelaez brings him back, barely, with his magic. The party of protagonists travel on the Nautilus to the Cape Verde Islands and the healer of immortals. During the journey, Professor Kang and Bartholomew can not tell if Pelaez will keep his brother alive. Captain Nemo is ready to evict Pelaez forcibly, and keeping Celwyn alive is the only thing that restrains him.

After Celwyn is saved, the healer requests payment for his services. This sends the adventurers to the catacombs in Capuchin where their experience is one they will not forget. Before it is over, several of the protagonists question why it seems everyone from warlocks and vampires to witches, seem to be congregating in their world. Before it is over, some of them become surprising allies, and a few of their allies turn against them.

In part II, work on the new flying machine begins in earnest bringing attention from the Mafioso and a cherub-like warlock called Duncan. After a final battle with Duncan, the flying machine is destroyed and everyone at their compound is murdered by one of their own.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Prelude
The rolling hills near Odessa, north of Constantinople 1867

With each step he took, Professor Xiau Kang sensed the intensity, and importance of what he would find. Above all, he felt the weight of his sadness. He had done his best to ignore that there was no guarantee Captain Nemo had located Thales, if Nemo failed to find him, Jonas Celwyn would be dead within a matter of days, perhaps hours.

A long time ago, on the Zelda, the magician had doubted a mechanical man could feel. Kang paused, swaying on his feet as he fought to regain his control; at this moment, the automat knew real despair, a wrenching grief that they would lose Jonas. He swallowed hard and walked faster, climbing to the top of the berm.

There she was! The long black submarine lay still in the water. A single sailor stood on patrol, and another perched in the cage on top with a spyglass.

Kang called, “I’ll get Mr. Celwyn. Please let the Captain know we’re here.”

Conductor Smith joined him as they ran back to the coach. The others had seen them and began unloading the magician onto the stretcher that Kang had fashioned for this moment. He skidded to a stop and grabbed Celwyn’s hand.

“The Nautilus is here. It isn’t far.”

In the distance, a low hum reached them; the sound sputtered and grew stronger.

The magician’s eyes opened slowly, like a thread from his memory raised his lids, impelling him to look. Everyone, including Jonas, gazed upward, as if they had already known what was to come.

The noise grew louder, and then a bright yellow flying machine crested the low hills and headed toward the estuary.

“Yes!” Kang shouted, raising his fist in triumph.

The plane swerved to the north, banked, and then flew toward them again in a wide arc.

“Oh, my God, it’s Bartholomew,” Elizabeth exclaimed.

Bartholomew wore a broad smile and his scarf fluttered in the breeze as he sailed over them. He waved. As he banked again, the engine revved and he turned, descending for another pass. Celwyn raised himself onto an elbow to wave back.

“Hurry,” Kang said. “Bartholomew is going to land. We have to get Jonas onto the ship.”

About the AuthorEarly work was horror and suspense, later work morphed into a combination of magical realism, mystery and adventure painted with a horrific element as needed.

I’m one of those writers who doesn’t plan ahead, no outlines, no clue, and I sometimes write myself into a corner. Atmospheric music in the background helps. Black by Pearl Jam especially.
More information is available at LouKemp.com. I’d love to hear from you and what you think of Celwyn, Bartholomew, and Professor Xiau Kang.

Milestones:

2009 The anthology story Sherlock’s Opera appeared in Seattle Noir, edited by Curt Colbert, Akashic Books. Available through Amazon or Barnes and Noble online. Booklist published a favorable review of my contribution to the anthology.
2010 My story, In Memory of the Sibylline, was accepted into the best-selling MWA anthology Crimes by Moonlight, edited by Charlaine Harris. The immortal magician Celwyn makes his first appearance in print.
2018 The story, The Violins Played before Junstan is published in the MWA anthology Odd Partners, edited by Anne Perry. The Celwyn series begins.
Present The full length prequel, The Violins Played before Junstan, to the Celwyn book series is published on Kindle. The companion book, Farm Hall is also published where Pelaez, another immortal magician and Celwyn’s brother, makes his first appearance. The remaining books in the series: Music Shall Untune the Sky, The Raven and the Pig, The Pirate Danced and the Automat Died, will be available beginning in August 2021.

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Finding the Emotion by Barbara Casey – Guest Blog and Giveaway

May 16, 2022 By 12 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Barbara Casey will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Finding the Emotion

Emotional situations in a story often remain with the reader, even long after a book has been read.

The Seraphim’s Song, Book 5 of The F.I.G. Mysteries, takes Dara, Mackenzie, and Jennifer, collectively known as the three FIGs – Females of Intellectual Genius, along with Carolina, their teacher from Wood Rose Orphanage and Academy for Young Women, to a hidden cave on the Yellow Sea in China. It is there that they must find the secret location of where an ancient artifact – a “key” – must be returned in order for the world to be safe. Natural disasters are occurring all over the world, Carolina is ill, all of them are exhausted as they fumble their way through the dark cave. As rocks and boulders fall around them and the cave starts to collapse, they barely escape only to discover that Jennifer is not with them.

*****

They could hear the vibrating hum of B flat minor, the “aum” sound loud and distinct, clear and pure, no longer off key.

And they could hear the terrifying sound of the stone walls crumbing and the ceiling collapsing from within the inner deep dark depths of the cave and moving closer toward them. Thick choking dust filled the air around them making it almost impossible to breathe or see. “Get out!” shouted Dr. Stanwick. “Run! The cave is collapsing!”

Protecting their heads with their backpacks from the falling rocks, blinded by the thick dust and barely able to breathe, the F.I.G.s ran back the way they had come, toward the entrance, stumbling over broken rocks, pulling Carolina, urging her to hurry, trying to keep her from falling, with Dr. Stanwick right behind them. When they approached the opening of the cave and could see the daylight beyond, Carolina glanced back. The last thing she saw was the crevasse in the stone wall slowly close around the artifact as though to once again conceal it and protect it. The cymatic pattern of the god’s eye was now just a pile of rocks.

Startled by the sudden loud rumble and seeing the thick yellow dust spew from the mouth of the cave, Li Lee quickly got out of the car and rushed toward the noise of falling rocks just as Carolina and the F.I.G.s and Dr. Stanwick exited out of the yellow cloud of darkness and into the bright sunshine. From a safe distance, they watched in stunned silence as huge boulders, uprooted shrubs, small trees, and chunks of yellow clay fell from the outcropping and cliffs above, completely sealing the entrance. Any visible evidence that there was a jinzhi de cave or ever had been was gone—destroyed. All that remained was the thick yellow dust slowly rising and dissipating into the air.

“Jennifer!” Dara looked around. “Where’s Jennifer?” Dara yelled, moving toward the cave. “Oh, no! Jennifer!”

With everything happening, they hadn’t noticed that Jennifer wasn’t with them. Running back to the cave’s entrance, horrified, Carolina, Dara, and Mackenzie screamed for Jennifer as they clawed and heaved and pushed at the heavy stones in desperation, trying to move them out of the way, trying to get back into the cave—trying to save the female of intellectual genius. Knowing it was futile, Dr. Stanwick fell to the ground, gasping for breath and overcome with emotion. Li Lee knelt beside him, his heart breaking over the tragic hopelessness of it all, knowing there was absolutely nothing they could do.

*****

Thank you for inviting me to visit with you and for your interest in my books. I wish you and your bloggers all the best. ~Barbara

Many changes have taken place at Wood Rose Orphanage and Academy for Young Women while Carolina and Larry were on their honeymoon in Frascati, Italy, on the Granchelli farm. The newlyweds have been given a larger bungalow; Ms. Alcott, niece of the founder of Wood Rose, and Mrs. Ball, assistant to the headmaster, have moved into a bungalow together; and Jimmy Bob, caretaker and night watchman at Wood Rose has moved from his family home down the road a bit into a small bungalow on the orphanage property with his hound dog Tick, as well as his new cat and her litter of kittens. Most important, thanks to the persuasive powers of Ms. Alcott and Mrs. Ball, the F.I.G.s have been given a forever home at Wood Rose.

Summer is coming to an end and the F.I.G.s will soon return to the universities to complete their special projects. They are starting to feel anxious, and the coping mechanisms they have used their entire lives are starting to work overtime. Dara’s thoughts turn to an unknown language, possibly from another world; Mackenzie focuses on the relationship of math to music; and Jennifer keeps hearing the note of B flat minor and is drawing dark swirls on her canvas board.

Deadly forces and natural disasters are unleashed into the world when Milosh, the evil young man who placed a curse on Carolina when she searched for her mother, steals an ancient artifact—a “key”—from an archaeological site near Puli, China on the Yellow Sea where he is working. This artifact, when paired with a certain note—B flat minor known as the Seraphim’s song—opens a portal that enables man to communicate with the gods.

When the key gets lost in a storm, Carolina comes into possession of it through Jimmy Bob’s dog, Tick, and when she does, she hears Lyuba, her gypsy mother, tell her that time is running out. The F.I.G.s and Carolina must go to the forbidden cave on the Yellow Sea, the place where the early gypsies are believed to have settled before travelling into Europe. For it is there where the key must be returned before all is destroyed.

About the Author:Originally from Carrollton, Illinois, author/agent/publisher Barbara Casey attended the University of North Carolina, N.C. State University, and N.C. Wesleyan College where she received a BA degree, summa cum laude, with a double major in English and history. In 1978 she left her position as Director of Public Relations and Vice President of Development at North Carolina Wesleyan College to write full time and develop her own manuscript evaluation and editorial service. In 1995 she established the Barbara Casey Agency and since that time has represented authors from the United States, Great Britain, Canada, and Japan. In 2014, she became a partner with Strategic Media Books, an independent nonfiction publisher of true crime, where she oversees acquisitions, day-to-day operations, and book production.

Barbara has written over a dozen award-winning books of fiction and nonfiction for both young adults and adults. The awards include the National Association of University Women Literary Award, the Sir Walter Raleigh Literary Award, the Independent Publisher Book Award, the Dana Award for Outstanding Novel, the IP Best Book for Regional Fiction, among others. Several of her books have been optioned for major films and television.

Her award-winning articles, short stories, and poetry for adults have appeared in both national and international publications including the North Carolina Christian Advocate Magazine, The New East Magazine, the Raleigh (N.C.) News and Observer, the Rocky Mount (N.C.) Sunday Telegram, Dog Fancy, ByLine, The Christian Record, Skirt! Magazine, and True Story. A thirty-minute television special which Barbara wrote and coordinated was broadcast on WRAL, Channel 5, in Raleigh, North Carolina. She also received special recognition for her editorial work on the English translations of Albanian children’s stories. Her award-winning science fiction short stories for adults are featured in The Cosmic Unicorn and CrossTime science fiction anthologies. Barbara’s essays and other works appear in The Chrysalis Reader, the international literary journal of the Swedenborg Foundation, 221 One-Minute Monologues from Literature (Smith and Kraus Publishers), and A Cup of Comfort (Adams Media Corporation).

Barbara is a former director of BookFest of the Palm Beaches, Florida, where she served as guest author and panelist. She has served as judge for the Pathfinder Literary Awards in Palm Beach and Martin Counties, Florida, and was the Florida Regional Advisor for the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators from 1991 through 2003. In 2018 Barbara received the prestigious Albert Nelson Marquis Lifetime Achievement Award and Top Professional Award for her extensive experience and notable accomplishments in the field of publishing and other areas. She makes her home on the top of a mountain in northwest Georgia with three cats who adopted her, Homer – a Southern coon cat, Reese – a black cat, and Earl Gray – a gray cat and Reese’s best friend.

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How to Handle Negative Criticism by Jeanette Watts – Guest Blog and Giveaway

May 13, 2022 By 4 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jeanette Watts will be awarding a crazy quilt tea cosy to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

How to handle negative criticism

I have met quite a few authors who are terrified of negative reviews and/or criticism. A negative critique is a rejection of them personally, and this is devastating to their soul.

Being a writer is going to require a thicker skin than that.

There is nothing on this earth that is liked by absolutely everyone. Black licorice? I love it. Easter is great, I get ALL the black jelly beans. Carrots? Who doesn’t love carrots? Well, me. More for everybody else. You can have my share. Spicy food? There’s a reason restaurants have sliding scales of spice levels.

Tastes in reading are no different. I don’t read horror stories. I don’t read crime novels. I don’t even read science fiction anymore. And most people don’t read the kinds of historical biographies that I gobble up.

The first time I got a bad review on my first book, I laughed with glee! The writer of the review didn’t like my main character, the one that everybody else was in love with. This guy reacted differently, probably due to his own personal experiences, and did not approve of some of the very behaviors other people found justifiable. In real life, no one is universally liked by everyone. I had just succeeded in writing into existence a person that is true to real life.

There IS a difference between reading tastes, and suggestions on improving your writing. That reviewer’s opinion was about my character. It wasn’t that I did a poor job fleshing out the character, he just didn’t like the fact that I had taken the romance novel trope of woman marrying a man she doesn’t love, and then falling in love with him by the end, and turning it on its ear. My hero is forced to get married. And he doesn’t fall in love with her. Not even close. Some people don’t WANT their tropes twisted out of shape. That’s a matter of taste, and that’s fine.
Good suggestions on improving your writing, however, is not a time for laughter and dismissal. That’s the time to be listening. Negative criticism, at least when it’s not just people being a jerk, is not to make you feel bad about yourself. It makes you a better writer.

I do not use a professional editor, because I am surrounded by a lot of friends who are all wicked smart. Smarter than me. And they love me enough to NOT let me publish something and make a fool of myself, so when I give them a copy of the manuscript and a red pen, and I am trusting them to not let me make a fool of myself, they really use the red pens if needed. After the first ten pairs of eyes, there’s usually not much left to correct. The next ten pairs of eyes mostly find the typos. Inevitably, some error manages to evade absolutely everyone, and I cringe when I find it a year later.

The tricky part is knowing the difference of when to listen to the criticism, and when to ignore it. That requires a bit of a thick skin, and some trust in yourself, and some trust in others.

How much would you gamble for true love? Jane Fairfax dreaded her future as a governess. But genteel solitude seemed her fate. Then handsome, charming, rich Frank Churchill asked to marry her – IF his rich aunt agreed. If their secret engagement was discovered, Jane would be ruined. Frank seemed worth the risk; but the stakes got higher when the aunt refused her consent!

Enjoy an Excerpt

Mr Churchill caught the end of one of the long ribbons from her bonnet, which were flying madly in the strong breeze. He toyed with it for a long while, then looked up into her eyes. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked.

“No, I don’t suppose I do,” Jane answered. Her heart started beating harder. That was a lie. Maybe her breath was catching in her throat because she was lying: she fell in love with him the moment she saw him, rescuing the poor store clerk. Or maybe it was because he was standing so close to her, just on the other end of her bonnet ribbon. She felt her cheeks growing warm, and tried to talk herself out of blushing. He was not standing any closer to her than when they danced together, or sat on the same bench at the pianoforte. Why should it fluster her that he was wrapping the end of her bonnet ribbon around his fingers like that?

“Neither did I.” He tied a knot into the very end of the ribbon, then caught the other flying ribbon, and did the same to its end. “I thought love requires mutual respect and understanding, and complementary temperaments that can only be discovered with a judicious application of time and conversation.”

Jane hid her trembling hands inside her muff. She wished there was a way to hide the fact that she was trembling all over. “I understood you from the first moment I saw you,” she admitted, her voice little more than a whisper.

About the AuthorJeanette Watts has written three Jane Austen-inpsired novels, two other works of historical fiction, stage melodramas, television commercials, and humorous essays for Kindle Vella.

When she is not writing, she is either dancing, sewing, or walking around in costume at a Renaissance festival talking in a funny accent and offering to find new ladies’ maids for everyone she finds in fashionably-ripped jeans.

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How to Handle Negative Criticism by L.T. Getty – Guest Blog and Giveaway

May 13, 2022 By 5 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. L.T. Getty will be awarding a $25 GC, of the winner’s choice, to an online bookseller to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

How to Handle Negative Criticism

Spoiler Alert: I’m not a perfect author.

I’ve also had personal experience dealing with authors who didn’t like my reviews of their books. Personally I think that the author/reviewer dynamic is that unless there’s other circumstances, my response as the author should be along the lines of, “Thank you for the honest review” unless I’m being asked to comment specifically about a common criticism multiple people have pointed out.

Talking about what you’ve read or watched is natural, and should be encouraged. I think “he who dares not offend cannot be honest”, so while I’ll be the first to admit I try my best, it is disheartening to find out that someone didn’t like what I did.

Before you let the crippling imposter syndrome or perfectionism control your work output, recognize the difference between objective and subjective criticism. Objective means that the criticism comes from the object – I made a technical error (someone’s eye color flip flops) or I’m inconsistent of spelling, switching back and forth from American to Canadian. This includes grammatical errors, or saying that Toronto is North of Edmonton. I don’t have a leg to stand on if I mess something up and there’s no good reason as to why. So even if I go over it again and again and there’s a typo that ends up in the final product but it didn’t happen on my end, the reviewer is right to comment on it.

Subjective means that it’s someone’s opinion. This could mean that the reader didn’t like the direction I took the story, or they didn’t like a choice I made about the voice or what I chose to focus on. It’s important to remember that not everyone will like what you do. Sometimes there’s reason for it, say, you cussed too much for their liking. Other times there’s nothing you can do to make someone like your work. If you write something with unicorns and rainbows, and the reader wants grit and grime, it doesn’t matter that the genre and plot is something that they’d otherwise go for.

Ask yourself if the person’s concerns are legitimate for your genre. If you’re in a writer group and someone is trying to criticize the genre as a whole, I would probably take this person’s criticisms to heart the least.

Let’s say you wrote a romance novel and placed it in a space-opera setting. You may expect the member in your group who only likes hard, military science fiction to not give the best feedback for what you’re trying to achieve, but it can sting if another romance writer also didn’t care for it. However, do a bit of digging, and we find out that author who was lukewarm at best was more familiar with the romance tropes really only enjoys contemporary or historical romance, or you went for spicy when the other person prefers sweet.

On a side note, don’t let anyone trash the genre you like to write. They may have some valid points here or there, as the rules of spelling and grammar apply to everyone. It’s not up to you to prove that Genre X can’t be real literature. You do that with your work, if that’s your goal.

But let’s pretend you did your homework and you got the right person. You submitted your book for review to someone who gave glowing praise to a book like yours. Let’s pretend this was the response:

I like heroic fantasy, the reviewer says. I like high fantasy, low fantasy, urban fantasy, science fantasy, just about any sort of fantasy. Just not yours.

This is the sort of person whose feedback I would take more seriously, but again there’s subjectivity to the person, and you don’t necessarily know if they’re in a bad mood, or perhaps they just read something amazing, so everything they are trying feels inferior.

When you enter the world of letting your book out into the world, then you’re no longer competing with your local writer’s group. Imagine if I won a local pie baking competition, and now instead of competing at a mid level, I went right to the world championships. I’m not saying my pie is bad by any stretch, but odds are, I’m dealing with other people who have spent years perfecting their craft. Imagine I left, disheartened that my pies were no good, to run into an elderly lady selling pies. “Sure,” I say to myself, “I embarrassed myself and am the absolute worst. I’m never going to make a pie again.” Turns out, it’s not the professionals, but this woman no one’s heard of who makes the best pie. She laughs, and tells me a few of her personal secrets, and off she goes. I didn’t even catch her name. Returning home, I use her tips and tricks, and the next time I make a pie, I found out little things I could have improved on. I didn’t realize my previous flaws, and I got better.

The same people who will pick up my book are going to compare me to people who sell better and who have more education, resources, or something else like life experience, that grants them an edge. The reader doesn’t care about my tragic back story with my rolling pin, or that one of the guys who placed made his assistant do all the work. There’s so much good pie, why should they have mine? If I make the best blueberry pie, if the person with a fork doesn’t like blueberry, they aren’t going to like it. If they have a sweet tooth and I intentionally go easy on the sugar, they won’t prefer it. Did they really want pie, or is what they’re really after cake?

It’s a natural thing to want to defend yourself and your work. I say let reviewers have their opinions. They’re judging the end product, not you. Thank them, and if you’re to get anything out of the exchange, try to improve your skill in story telling for the next book. Ultimately, it’s your work that will speak for itself.

Koth’s life was decided for him since before he was born, for his ability to heal wounds by touch is rare even among his people. When an attempted kidnapping turns to sacrificial murder, he embraces vengeance and the sword. As he journeys far from his small isolated village in the north, he learns the truth as to why his bloodline is targeted by strange magic, in a world still rebuilding from a time when dark sorcerers didn’t bother with secrecy.

Koth thinks his quest is straightforward enough–find the men responsible, and kill them–and any who aid them. He will soon learn that those who have both privilege and power, there are few things they lack–and in the pursuit of godhood, their allies can prove even more sinister as mere mortals seek to advent empires and dynasties.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Something’s wrong,” Una said. “Koth, wait here.”

“Why?” If there was a problem, she should be waiting outside for him.
He sensed inside, his aunt’s thoughts remained hidden from him. Una shouted, and he ran inside the building. He thought there were lights on inside, but he saw no candles.

The tea house was very dark, and he felt a sudden dread—he wanted to leave. Baro barked from the outside. ~Una!~ he thought, before something hit his neck.

He knew at once it was a poison dart, and ripping it out he tried to smell what it was. Seeing metal reflect moonlight and he moved his hand, his skin cut. Moving instinctively out of the way, his next reaction was to purge the toxin that coursed through his body and tried to understand the wound. It was mostly his forearm, deep but he could still use it, the bone unaffected. He’d do a better healing later. He focused on something not unlike a burn before going for the knife at his hip. Striking 85 in the next liquid motion, Koth realized he was attacking his aunt.

She grabbed onto his injured flesh and seared it, destroying, weakening the sinew and the cartilage and causing it to age and die, following up the bloodstream, to find the heart and kill. Koth tried to brace; he couldn’t heal and keep her at bay. He was physically stronger and much heavier, but she was weakening his muscles. He tried to wrench the knife from her.

He knocked the blade to the ground then tried to lock minds with her to find nothing short of blinding pain take him over, wrestling him to the ground and making him drop his knife. She took the dagger and when he tried to force himself up, a familiar sense washed over him. Magic, but not coming from Una.

“Do not kill him yet,” Yeshbel said, “we will bleed him first.”

About the AuthorL.T. Getty is a rural paramedic from Manitoba. She enjoys writing science fiction and fantasy and generally being creative.

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Benevolence of New Ideas by Carmela Cuttuti – Spotlight and Giveaway

May 5, 2022 By 4 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Carmela Cattuti will be awarding $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

The satisfying conclusion to Angela Lanza’s story which began in Between the Cracks when she loses her entire family in the earthquake on Sicily following the 1908 eruption of Mt. Etna and continues in The Ascent as she adjusts to life in the United States as a new bride and Italian American immigrant. Now, in the final installment in the trilogy, The Benevolence of New Ideas, thrusts Angela and her family into the heart of the Vietnam War and the turbulent times of the 1970s. As the family matriarch, Angela guides her niece, Marie, through these challenges and the era’s limiting structures of education and organized religion, helping Marie to embrace new ideas and expand her intuition and relationship with the unseen world. Angela’s compassion and wisdom has an exceptional impact on Marie’s life and those around her. A fulfilling ending that celebrates Angela’s wisdom in all things along with her well lived life from tragedy to triumph and from heartbreak to the enduring love of family.




Enjoy an Excerpt

Angela had cared for Franco during his long illness, and now she was free. The relief she felt made her cringe. How could she so easily feel relief when Franco had suffered? She grieved but was thankful there would be no more concerns about leaving him home alone, or trips to the doctor, or Franco insisting he could perform a task when he couldn’t. He had emigrated from Sicily at age twelve 12 in the early 20th century full of energy and promise. Now, in 1968, Angela looked back and felt he had been successful in fulfilling that promise. Franco had brought Angela, at age eighteen, from the convent orphanage in Palermo, where she had lived since the 1908 earthquake, to a new life in Nelsonville, New York, about forty-five minutes north of Manhattan. It was not the life she thought she would have in America, but what she had created in America she never would have had the opportunity to experience had she stayed in Sicily.

Angela kissed Franco several times on both cheeks and on the lips. The doctors had said it was a matter of time until he would pass away. She could see death hovering and begin to slowly drape his body from his head to his feet as if giving Angela time to say good-bye.

“Adio mio caro,” whispered Angela. “Grazie di tutto.” Tears rolled down her face onto Franco’s cheek and mouth. His eyes were open and fixed, as if peering into the world beyond. She put her hands on the sides of his face and with her thumbs closed his eyes.


About the Author:

Carmela Cattuti started her writing career as a journalist for the Somerville News in Boston, MA. After she finished her graduate work in English Literature from Boston College she began to write creatively and taught a journal writing course at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education. As fate would have it, she felt compelled to write this homage to her great-aunt, who survived the earthquake and eruption of Mt. Etna and bravely left Sicily to start a new life in America.

Between the Cracks and The Ascent began the story, which now concludes with the final book in the trilogy.


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Shelter from our Secrets, Silence, and Shame by Rebecc L. Brown – Exclusive Excerpt and Giveaway

May 5, 2022 By 4 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Rebecca L. Brown, MSW, RSW will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

I thought I’d share an excerpt from my book. This is the beginning of one of the chapters, I don’t want to spoil it; enjoy!

People say that I’m good with people. I’ve always been in the helping field. People and animals seem to be naturally drawn to me. Maybe it’s feminine intuition mixed with maternal instinct. I’m able to feel an energetic connection with people, and I prefer to be around others than on my
own. All my formal training, although helpful and a great foundation, just helped to lay the groundwork for what was to come: working with people to enhance their connection, healing and promoting growth and learning.

I’ve had my own struggles. Haven’t we all? I was separated from my family at an early age and taken in by a family who had the best of intentions. They wanted me to fill a void in their lives, but after a few years, I became invisible, a burden, and was left to myself most of the time. I felt that I had done something wrong. I became sensitive to strong emotions and could sense someone’s energy from a distance, particularly the negative. Negative energy is louder than positive energy. It takes me longer to trust people, and I withdraw myself sometimes. It’s a primal instinct. Some may say a coping strategy. Sometimes it’s more comfortable being alone, than risking being hurt and rejected, again.

I have a big heart.
I can hold space for people’s pain.
I can see into their soul.
I know when their insides don’t match their outsides.
I recognize the walls people put up to protect themselves.
I help them to break down their barriers and obstacles.
I lead them to a new understanding of themselves.
I teach people to trust themselves, to trust in others again.
Like I have learned to do.

We met on a cold and dreary day.
She approached me with gentleness and a bit of trepidation.
She wanted to make a connection.
Trust takes time for me.
She seemed like she was going to invest the time.
Our connection grew day by day.
She asked me to trust her.
I tested her to be sure she deserved my trust.
We found a new home together.
We work well together.
We take long walks together; we run together.
We can read each other’s body language now.
We have made other friendships together.
We have a strong relationship.
We respect each other.
We trust each other.
We challenge each other.
We work together.
We play together.
We help each other heal.
We help others heal.

I have blonde hair, brown eyes.
I weigh over one thousand pounds.
My name is Dolly.

To find out more about Dolly, my equine therapy partner, pick up a copy of my book and learn more about Equine Assisted Therapy and how it changed my life, both personally and professionally.
You can also check me out on Instagram and see our weekly “Mental Health Moments” straight from the horse’s mouth!

~Rebecca

As a mental health clinician, Rebecca Brown has been a safe place for many to seek shelter from their secrets, silence and shame. Inspired to finally slow down, stop running from herself and share her own story, she found ways to seek and savour her own shelter.

Rebecca’s personal journey takes us through sadness, tragedy, self-sabotage, the impossible pursuit of perfection, distorted thinking and eating, engaging with her shadow self, divorce, and numbing with alcohol, all in an attempt to avoid the story needing to be shared.

Dispelling the limiting beliefs we hold about ourselves can unlock our limitless potential to reach goals we never dared to dream. From the Boston Marathon to working with horses, Rebecca sets out to prove to herself that anything is possible when you don’t listen to the negative stories you tell yourself.

Everyone has a story. We become who we are because of what has happened to us, and because of the stories we tell ourselves. But do our stories continue to serve us well, or keep us stuck? Are our stories fact or fiction? Is it time to rewrite the versions we have been telling ourselves?

Shelter provides strategies to help reframe the thinking patterns we have developed, and offers tools to recognize when we are suffering from our own thoughts, feelings and actions. Resilience-building techniques are woven through the pages, and encouragement for the lifelong journey of collecting moments of awe and happiness.

Seeking and reading Shelter is a gift of self-compassion and self-discovery. Rebecca’s hope is that it will be read with a highlighter in hand, pages folded down, re-read, recommended to a friend, and used as a guide to start sharing our own stories with those we love.

We may not have written our beginnings, but we have the ability to write every word from this point forward and just imagine where our stories can take us when we are free of secrets, silence and shame.

About the Author:REBECCA BROWN is a clinical social worker with over 35 years in practice ranging from medical social work, childhood trauma, vicarious trauma for first responders, international psychological first aid, and Equine Assisted Therapy. She is honoured to hold a faculty appointment with the Department of Family Medicine at Western University in London, Ontario. She teaches extensively on the topics of trauma and resilience and has delivered keynote presentations throughout North America. She shares her life and career with her husband, a family physician and trailblazer in the field of Lifestyle Medicine. Together they live and work on the shores of the Great Lake Huron, where they seek and share shelter with their six adult children, four grandchildren, extended family and friends, two dogs, two cats and one horse.

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The Litter by Kevin R. Doyle – Spotlight and Giveaway

May 4, 2022 By 2 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Kevin R. Doyle will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner, and a second drawing for a free e-Book copy of the book, via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

They kept to the shadows so no one would know they existed, and preyed on the nameless who no one would miss. Where did they come from, and who was protecting them? In a city that had seen every kind of savagery, they were something new, something more than murderous. And one woman, who had thought she had lost everything there was to lose in life, would soon find that nothing could possibly prepare her for what would come when she entered their world.









Enjoy an Excerpt

A car came squealing around the corner, someone leaning out and throwing an empty bottle in the kid’s direction. He ducked, glass shattering on the wall behind him, and the car continued on its way, drunken curses floating on the night.

The kid stood still for a moment, face reddening and fists clenching. But he knew it wasn’t anything personal. The morons hadn’t been attacking him, just anyone small and defenseless who they happened to come upon.

He’d spent his whole life small and defenseless.

He cinched the zipper of the ski vest a little bit tighter, jerking the collar upright so that it would partially cover his ears, and headed off down the street.

He had no clue where he was heading, or when he would eat or sleep next, but he’d been on his own for years now and had come to learn the way of the streets. He figured nothing could come up that he hadn’t encountered before, and he managed to stuff way deep down into an obscure corner of his mind the longing memories of the warmth and comfort the shelter had offered the night before.

He was a survivor, always had been, and as he wandered down the nearly-deserted street, in the early morning hours of the Zone, he had no doubt that he would continue to survive.

And that was the last that anyone ever saw of him.

About the Author:

A high-school teacher, former college instructor, and fiction writer, Kevin R. Doyle is the author of numerous short horror stories. He’s also written three crime thrillers, The Group, When You Have to Go There, and And the Devil Walks Away, and one horror novel, The Litter. In the last few years, he’s begun working on the Sam Quinton private eye series, published by Camel Press. The first Quinton book, Squatter’s Rights, was nominated for the 2021 Shamus award for Best First PI Novel. The second book, Heel Turn, was released in March of 2021, while the third in the series, Double Frame, came out in March of 2022.

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Daughter of Light by Eileen Dreyer – Spotlight and Giveaway

May 4, 2022 By 2 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Eileen Dreyer will be awarding a $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

He’s had enough…

Harry Wyatt, Earl of Hartley has enough problems trying to keep his estate solvent. What he does not need is yet another lost child showing up on his land looking for the Hartley Fairy Diamond made famous by a recent film. A fairy diamond that is no more than myth handed down by delusional ancestors and responsible for the perilous state of his finances. And yet there is something about this latest visitor, something beside her delicate beauty and troubling familiarity. Something that is compelling him to go against everything he believes to help her. To want her.

She’s on a quest…

Sorcha, daughter of Mab Queen of Fairies is on a quest. Dropped into a cold, alien world, it is her task to recover the great fairy stone that has been lost to the land of mortals, a stone whose absence has upended the balance of nature. If she doesn’t get the stone back, spring will not come. But there is a handsome mortal standing in her way. A mortal she is drawn to like no other man, fairy or mortal. A mortal who claims he doesn’t believe in her, but whose memories and fears say otherwise. A mortal with green fairy eyes. A mortal she could love, if only he weren’t mortal and she fairy.

Note: This title was previously published as Dark Seduction

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Here! What are you doing? Get up!”

Startled, Sorcha looked up to see long legs in front of her. Thick boots, sturdy pants, long, sleek limbs. Tall limbs. She kept looking up and then up and still he went on.

A man.

A mortal, dark and fierce and glowering at her.

Sorcha stumbled to her feet, her instinct that of flight. This man was her enemy, surely, in this terrifying place.

“I—I… Forgive me…” she gasped and stumbled. Her feet were too numb from the cold to hold her up, her senses still in too much upheaval.

She reached out for balance and ended up crashing into the mortal’s chest. He grunted, struggling to stay upright. He reached for her, but it was too late. In a tangle of limbs, the two of them tumbled over and their momentum carried them rolling all the way down the long hill into the rocks at the bottom.

“Ooomph!” he grunted, coming to a halt right on top of her.

“Please…” She shoved at him, but it was like trying to move granite. “I… can’t… breathe…”

“Oh. Sorry.”

He lurched up, a hand on either side of her head, until he balanced himself over her, lifting his weight but not his control. “I…”

But then he stopped and stared. Sorcha couldn’t help it. She stared back. A mortal he might be, but he was magnificent. Taller than even the Tuatha, stronger than the elven guards, fiercer than the Dubhlainn Sidhe. Dark and sharp-edged, with high cheeks and a taut jaw and a rapier of a nose. A face on which even a scowl was a thing of beauty. And Sorcha revered beauty.

But that wasn’t what silenced her. It was his eyes. Dark-fringed, wide, crystal-bright. And green.

Fairy green.

Sorcha’s heart leapt in her breast. She felt joy bubble up in her, the relief of a saved life, the delight of finding that she’d been wrong. There was another familiar face in this alien place.

“Ah, how lovely,” she said, lifting her hand to his face. “You’re the one I’m to be looking for, then.”

“The one you’re looking for?” he asked, his voice oddly hushed, his eyes still deep and dark.

She laughed. “Of course. Didn’t the queen herself tell me to look for the one who is us? And who would be quicker to recognize the mark of a fairy than I? Your sister thanks you for her welcome, mo dearthair’”

“What?”

She gave him an even larger smile. “Ah, pardon. I forget it’s the mortal tongue I need. I merely called you my brother. I thank you, my brother, for my welcome.”

For a second the stranger stared at her. Then, shaking his head, he dragged her to her feet. “That’s it,” he said. “I’m calling the police.”

About the Author:

New York Times bestselling author and RWA Hall of Fame member Eileen Dreyer and her evil twin Kathleen Korbel have published over forty novels and novellas, and ten short stories in genres ranging from medical suspense to paranormal to romance. She is thrilled to have joined Oliver Heber Books to continue her Drake’s Rakes series about Regency aristocrats who are willing to sacrifice everything to keep their country safe, of which Ill Met by Moonlight is a near relative.

A former trauma nurse, Eileen lives in St. Louis with her husband, children and large and noisy Irish family, of which she is the reluctant matriarch. A seasoned conference speaker, Dreyer travels to research, and uses research as an excuse to travel. Oh, who’s she kidding? She doesn’t need an excuse. She has the Irish wanderlust and satisfies it as often as she can to the point that she has sung traditional Irish music on four continents. She also had the incredible chance to research Drake’s Rakes by attending the 200th anniversary of not only the Battle of Waterloo, but the Duchess of Richmond ball (in period attire). She has animals, but refuses to subject them to the limelight.

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Balancing Life and Writing by Kirstyn Petras – Guest Blog and Giveaway

May 3, 2022 By 4 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Kirstyn Petras will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Balancing life and writing

If I actually figure out the balance of life and writing, I’ll let you know.

I think people sometimes have these grand, preconceived notions of what a writer’s work looks like. Someone sitting at a desk and making themselves write for hours at a time, some perfect lighting and inspiration flowing. This idea that words always come naturally and if they don’t you’re not as good, not worthy, or doing something wrong.

Everyone has their own process. Whether that is to say to yourself every day from 9-11 AM I will write, or, I will attempt to sneak in a couple of words over my lunch break, or staying up until 3 AM because you got an idea and need to get it down on paper before it disappears.

I don’t know if there is actually a “balance.” I think a big part of writing is figuring out how to write in a way that works for you, your life, your schedule, your needs. Working in a way that allows you to tell the stories you need to tell while not killing yourself because you didn’t write anything this week. That’s not to say make excuses for why something isn’t getting done, but writing should be a joy, not a chore. And if that “balance” is marathon sprints or 100 words a day, it’s whatever works for you. Have goals, by all means, but don’t be too harsh on yourself if a daily word count isn’t met. Words don’t always flow, but be ready to put them down when they do.

Alexander Covington is hunting a traitor: Melody Karsh, a missing girl accused of treason, a Party member who has forsaken her country. But, letters are appearing in mailboxes, being slipped beneath doors, and in the pockets of passersby. “Free Melody” is being spray painted on walls. Her image – cold, shivering, pathetic – has captured the public’s attention and sympathy.

Melody has no idea that her name is being used to start a movement, not until the executions of those demanding her freedom start airing on television.

Derek Lin would feel sympathy, if he didn’t blame Melody for the deaths of those who have disappeared without a trace, caught up in the investigation to find her.

Melody must choose to join the fight or stand aside. Derek will become a leader or break under the pressure. Alexander will decide how many bodies must fall to save his own life.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Well, we thank you very much, Detective Covington, for your time and encourage the public to cooperate fully. And now, a word from our sponsors.”

“Clear!” Morgan called, and Covington stood up. He ripped the microphone off his blazer, and, without a word, strode out of the studio. Morgan started screaming the second he was out of earshot.

“Do you want us shut down?! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”

“Morgan, what is he going to do?” Denise asked, leaning back. “Look, he didn’t want me to ask a question, and I did anyway. They never actually announce stories like this. I wanted to know why – how far she could have gotten – the fact he didn’t answer doesn’t make that look good, does it?”

Morgan gaped at her, before returning to the mixing booth. Derek followed her and peeked over her shoulder to watch the playback.

There, on the screen, were the pictures of the so-called terrorists. And there was her picture. She’d been at the bar, waiting for Sean, however long ago. He’d seen her picture, the background of Sean’s phone, heard Sean talk about her, mope about her, drink himself stupid over her.

“We have a problem.” He muttered to Morgan.

“What?” Morgan jumped, not having seen him following her. “Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure that girl’s been gone a hell of a lot longer than you think.”

About the Author: Kirstyn Petras is a fiction writer and commodities reporter but primarily identifies as caffeine in a human suit held together by hair spray and sheer force of will. She currently resides in Texas, though claims home as a combination of New York and Edinburgh. When not writing, she trains contortion and aerial hoop. She has been published in Punk Noir, and is the co-host of Dark Waters, a literary podcast exploring all that is dark, ready, and wonderfully twisted.

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The Kind of Writer I Am by JR Salisbury – Guest Blog and Giveaway

May 3, 2022 By 5 Comments

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. J R Salisbury will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What kind of writer am I??

I am fortunate that writing is my full-time job.

For years I’ve written by the seat of my pants with only a notebook with ideas and important details to each story. My editors convinced me my books would be oh-so-much better if I’d outline first. So kicking and screaming I’ve read a zillion books on plotting, learned to outline with the help of one of my editors. It’s been a slow process as I feel the time I spend doing that I could better use writing.

I will say Her Wicked Desires is the first serious attempt at a detailed outline and writing it pretty much in accordance to said outline. Do I think it helped? Yes, though I still have the urge to just write whatever pops in my head and revise later. To me the first draft is just a rough draft that you go back and polish during your second and third times. Then it’s off to the editor and later a proofreader. When its returned to me the final time I re-read it in detail along with sending it out to a couple of beta readers – just in case something’s been overlooked. A fresh pair of eyes is always good.

When I’m writing the story I usually write 1-2000 words per day. Sometimes more. I’ve learned to slow down and really put a lot of thought into what goes on the screen so sometimes a sentence can be rewritten a dozen times – but the best is always the last.

I could go on and on because I love sharing my experiences, but this gives you a small bite of how I write.

A daring widow. A determined duke. A story too wicked for the eyes of the ton…
Lady Georgiana, dowager duchess of Ashwood, emerges from a year of official mourning with her next steps firmly in mind. She will retreat to her beloved country estate, play merry matchmaker to her dearest friends, and write daring romance novels under a male pseudonym. Far from the prying eyes of the ton—and her late husband’s odious cousin.

But when her publisher wants to meet “Geoff Parker” in person, she gratefully accepts the help of Jeremy Graystone, childhood friend and heir to a dukedom. A man whose bronze, muscular good looks could tempt her to forget to keep him at arm’s length.

Years ago, Jeremy had to watch Georgiana’s family marry her off to another. Now the timing is finally right. But with Georgiana determined to relish her newfound freedom, he will be patient and plan for the day he will have her in his bed, his hands tangled in her spun-gold hair, her lapis blue eyes only for him.

And do whatever is necessary to keep her late husband’s greedy cousin from destroying her happiness…

Enjoy an Excerpt

Martin pushed his way into the solicitor’s office, acting as though he were the most important man in all of England.

She’d never met him before, but he was everything Ashwood had described him to be. An unattractive short man who bordered on obesity, sweated profusely, and had a head of thinning dark blond hair and cutting brown eyes.

He barely acknowledged her as he sat in the chair beside hers.

“What’s she doing here?” he demanded.

“She is your cousin’s widow. This concerns her as well,” Pickford replied, looking him in the eyes.

“She’s just that—a widow. All she’ll need is some source of income until she can find another man to dupe and a place to live. There must be somewhere we can put her.”

Georgiana’s back bristled. Time to put this man in his place. “I’m sorry, my lord, but I’m sitting right here. I’m not a book on a shelf you take out to dust off from time to time. I’m a living, breathing human.”

“Yes, yes. Now, can we get on with this? My bags and such should arrive at the house, along with my valet, as we speak. There’s much to do.”

“And where would you have me stay, my lord?” She knew her misuse of his new title would irritate him, and that was what she intended, wanting to see him blow up like a puffer fish, insulted. Which was precisely what happened next.

“I’m sorry, but I’m now the duke and therefore referred to as Your Grace.”

“And I am the dowager duchess and am referred to as Your Grace as well,” she replied smugly.

“Your living arrangements are none of my concern. As I said, I’ll be happy to find a cottage or small house on one of the estates. Until one is found, I suggest you go to a hotel. There is no longer a place for you at Ashwood House.”

“You’d throw a dowager duchess out onto the street?” Georgiana said in mock horror. Martin was a miserable man, and she would be sure everyone among the ton knew it. All she had to do was say the word, and invitations would be few.

Pickford interrupted their bickering. “Can we begin, Your Graces?”

“Of course,” Georgiana said with a polite smile.

Martin nodded and grunted. “Oh, very well, though I strongly protest to this woman being present.”

“Duly noted, Your Grace.”

The next hour was painful. Martin challenged every point of Ashwood’s will where Georgiana was included, but Pickford persevered and finally finished. She rose, ready to take her leave.

“Would you be so kind as to send a copy of all this to my solicitor, please?” she asked. She and Pickford had already gone over it. Because of Martin’s attitude, she had decided long before meeting the new duke to have her affairs handled by the prestigious firm of Kingsley and Kingsley.

Pickford nodded as he rose. “I will make sure a copy is forwarded to Kingsley and Kingsley. I’m sorry to lose your business, Your Grace, but I understand. I look forward to perhaps doing business with you again in the future.”

Nothing had been lost on Martin, and though he didn’t utter a word, his eyes never left her.

“I assume the carriage you use belongs to me now,” he challenged. “Have it sent back to Ashwood House as soon as you’re finished. You’ll have to purchase your own or hire one.” He snorted, thinking himself funny. Such a vulgar sound.

“No, Your Grace, I purchased the carriage and four you saw. If there’s nothing else, I bid you both good day.”

About the Author: I’ve always been a creative individual. Writing is just a facet of that creativity…

My careers in public relations in and around the entertainment industry, photography, editing, artist management, modeling and special event planning all elevated my passion for writing, not to mention gave me a treasure trove for story lines.

I write women’s fiction; contemporary romance (as Jamie Salisbury) and historical romance (as JR Salisbury) which is ever evolving. I am fortunate enough that writing (and marketing of said product(s)) is my full-time job, although I always have one or two other projects going at the same time.

Some of my other interests include photography, equestrianism, reading, and of course, travel.

I sincerely hope my writing will entertain, enlighten, and inspire others to pick up the pen and pursue their own dreams. I love to be contacted by readers, writers, and history buffs.

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