Maeve Jackson is starting over after a broken engagement—and mustering out of the Army. No job and no prospects, she spins out on black ice and totals her car.
When struggling vintner Luke Kaylor stops to help, they discover they’re distantly related. On a shoestring budget to convert his vineyard into a winery, he makes her a deal: prune grapevines in exchange for room and board.
But forgotten diaries and a haunted cabin kickstart a five-generation mystery with ancestors that have bones to pick. As carnal urges propel them into each other’s arms, they wonder: Is their attraction physical…or metaphysical?
Kissing Kin Excerpt –
“Mind if I camp out ’til the roads clear?”
“Under the circumstances?” The clerk shook his head. “Not a problem.”
“Thanks.” He started toward the sitting room and nearly bumped into Maeve, leaning against the wall. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” She tossed her chin. “I was cat-napping.”
“Right.” He compared her guarded veneer to her sleeping-beauty persona. Which is closer to her true self?
“Couldn’t help overhearing.” Gesturing toward the clerk with her chin, she grimaced. “I’m responsible for you being out tonight–”
“No.” He shook his head. “This is just a freak storm.”
“You don’t have to sleep in a chair.” She took a deep breath and gave a quick, tight-lipped smile. “My room has two queen beds, and you’re welcome to one of ’em.”
Unsure of the extent of her invitation, he did a double take.
“Just so we understand each other, this is a bunk, a place to sack out. Period. Amen.” She spoke in a low-pitched, no-nonsense voice. “Nothing more, so don’t get any–”
“Got it.” He covered his disappointment with a laugh. “Thanks, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine dozing by the fire.”
“Hey, I’ve bivouacked with soldiers in Afghanistan. We do what’s necessary under extenuating circumstances.” Shrugging, she glanced at the door. “And this blizzard qualifies.” Her face relaxed into a smile.
Her offer tempting, he compared sitting up all night to stretching out in a bed. Then he glimpsed the clerk.
“If you’re worried about my reputation, don’t be.” She laughed, the sound like sleigh bells tinkling on a crisp, wintry night.
What is it about her that conjures thoughts of other times–other eras?
****
How long did it take you to write Kissing Kin?
Kissing Kin has undergone several iterations. I began the first version in 2020–a storyline of two generations of the same family linked by Covid and (via journals) the Spanish Flu of 1918. However, publishers turned me down, saying readers were sick of pandemics. Time passed. Kissing Kin languished.
The second version would have been part of series set in Colorado. I changed the location, the names, the family connections, adapted the story to the series’ outline, and left out the flu. That rendering didn’t fly, either. Time passed. Kissing Kin languished.
My third attempt is the version being released today, which underwent further changes and required rewrites from the previous two iterations. Overall, I’ve been writing Kissing Kin for four years, but had the first version clicked, the process would have taken less than a year.
Author of the Trans-Pecos, Sacred Emblem, Sacred Journey, and Sacred Messenger series, as well as Kissing Kin, Fox Tale, Wild Rose Pass, The Keys: Voice of the Turtle and more, Karen is a best-selling author, motivational keynote speaker, IT technical editor, wife, and all-around pilgrim of life. She writes multicultural, offbeat love stories steeped in the supernatural. Born to rolling-stone parents who moved annually, Bartell found her earliest playmates as fictional friends in books. Paperbacks became her portable pals. Ghost stories kept her up at night—reading feverishly. The paranormal was her passion. Novels offered an imaginative escape. An only child, she began writing her first novel at the age of nine, learning the joy of creating her own happy endings. Professor emeritus of the University of Texas at Austin, Karen resides in the Texas Piney Woods with her husband Peter and her mews—three rescued cats and a rescued *Cat*ahoula Leopard dog.
Fireflies at Dusk has the most interesting genesis of any of my books. It was rejected by my future editor back in 2014. I was just starting down the fiction yellow brick road and didn’t realize that the manuscript wasn’t ready. Boy, is that an understatement. But this editor took the time to personalize her rejection, giving me chapter and verse about POV, showing versus telling, etc.
Needless to say, I was impressed, so eight months later, I emailed her again, and started out with ‘You don’t remember me, but I’m working on a western and wondered if anyone at The Wild Rose Press would be interested in seeing it. She said the words I’ll never forget-‘Send it to me when it’s ready’ (bf added). I polished and polished and polished it, and it turned into my first contract (with her, too, of all things!).
When I started Fireflies, I thought I’d be writing about George McClellan, one of the most prominent of Union generals. So I needed a character through whose eyes we could see McClellan, hence Jonathan Gray. As I wrote about Jonathan growing up, he began to push, then shoved, McClellan into the background, which surprised me, something that’s always a treat for a writer.
While Fireflies is set during the Civil War era, it’s not about the war, it’s a coming-of-age tale about the challenges Jonathan faces as he tries to navigate his family’s pacifism, deal with the injustice of slavery, and try to live through the hot cauldron of battles as the Civil War breaks out.
THE STORY:
As the Civil War looms, a young Ohio farm boy comes face to face with the injustice of slavery-an evil that tears at his very soul. When Jonathan Gray leaves home, anger causes him to abandon everything he once loved and push away everyone who ever loved him. He joins the Union Army and furious combat strips away his all-too-abundant pride. Worse, he leads men who would just as soon see him dead. If he is to regain his self-respect, he must embark on a gritty struggle to reclaim everything and everyone-including the childhood sweetheart he once held dear.
Book Trailer
Excerpt
Jonathan did indeed remember Barbra. He carried a picture of her in his head from when they were about twelve. She was walking toward him outside school, carrying some books. She wore a light blue top, her dark reddish hair trailing over her shoulders. No more pigtails. The scene was still as vivid today as if it had just happened. As she turned from the drink bowl toward him now, his heart raced.
Mrs. Carson called them over to the picnic table where she and Belinda were settled in. “Barbra Elizabeth, why don’t you and Jonathan come sit with us?”
When dusk crept across the landscape, fireflies appeared as if from nowhere. They filled the air around their table. They were common this time of year but to Barbra they seemed to be putting on a show just for them. Jonathan’s little brother, Peter, spun in the middle of the field, reaching for them. When one got caught in his curly hair, he looked like he had a blinking lantern perched on his head. Belinda called Peter over to the table and made him stand extra still. She worked through his curls, laying them aside so the firefly could find its way out.
Peter stared at it in Belinda’s hands. “Momma, it’s not lighting up anymore!”
“It won’t, Peter, as long as I’m holding it. Fireflies only light when they’re free.” Belinda thrust her hand upward.
The firefly blinked away into the faint evening light. Jonathan couldn’t take his eyes from Barbra’s smile as she followed the firefly, her head tilted slightly. The curve of her neck. A moment he would never forget.
FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET from author DIANA RUBINO
Now on Audio with the soothing voice of narrator Nina Price
Read About FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET and how Vita Found Love and Success Against All Odds
It’s 1894 on New York’s Lower East Side. Irish cop Tom McGlory and Italian immigrant Vita Caputo fall in love despite their different upbringings. Vita goes from sweatshop laborer to respected bank clerk to reformer, helping elect a mayor to beat the Tammany machine. While Tom works undercover to help Ted Roosevelt purge police corruption, Vita’s father arranges a marriage between her and a man she despises. As Vita and Tom work together against time and prejudice to clear her brother and father of a murder they didn’t commit, they know their love can survive poverty, hatred, and corruption. Vita is based on my great grandmother, Josephine Calabrese, “Josie Red” who left grade school to become a self-made businesswoman and politician, wife and mother.
An Excerpt:
As Vita gathered her soap and towel, Madame Branchard tapped on her door. “You have a gentleman caller, Vita. A policeman.”
“Tom?” His name lingered on her lips as she repeated it. She dropped her things and crossed the room.
“No, hon, not him. Another policeman. Theodore something, I think he said.”
No. There can’t be anything wrong. “Thanks,” she whispered, nudging Madame Branchard aside. She descended the steps, gripping the banister to support her wobbly legs. Stay calm! she warned herself. But of course it was no use; staying calm just wasn’t her nature.
“Theodore something” stood before the closed parlor door. He’s a policeman? Tall and hefty, a bold pink shirt peeking out of a buttoned waistcoat and fitted jacket, he looked way out of place against the dainty patterned wallpaper.
He removed his hat. “Miss Caputo.” He strained to keep his voice soft as he held out a piece of paper. “I’m police commissioner Theodore Roosevelt.”
“Yes?” Her voice shook.
“I have a summons for you, Miss Caputo.” He held it out to her. But she stood rooted to that spot.
He stepped closer and she took it from him, unfolding it with icy fingers. Why would she be served with a summons? Was someone arresting her now for something she didn’t do?
A shot of anger tore through her at this system, at everything she wanted to change. She flipped it open and saw the word “Summons” in fancy script at the top. Her eyes widened with each sentence as she read. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”
I hereby order Miss Vita Caputo to enter into holy matrimony with Mr. Thomas McGlory immediately following service of this summons.
How FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET Was Born
New York City’s history always fascinated me—how it became the most powerful hub in the world from a sprawling wilderness in exchange for $24 with Native Americans by the Dutch in 1626.
Growing up in Jersey City, I could see the Statue of Liberty from our living room window if I leaned way over (luckily I didn’t lean too far over). As a child model, I spent many an afternoon on job interviews and modeling assignments in the city, and got hooked on Nedick’s, a fast food chain whose orange drinks were every kid’s dream. Even better than the vanilla egg creams. We never drove to the city—we either took the PATH (Port Authority Trans Hudson) train (‘the tube’ in those days) or the bus through the Lincoln Tunnel to the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
My great grandmother, Josephine Arnone, “Josie Red” to her friends, because of her abundant head of red hair, was way ahead of her time. Born in 1895 (but it could’ve been sooner, as she was known to lie about her age), she left grade school, became a successful businesswoman and a Jersey City committeewoman, as well as a wife and mother of four. She owned apartment buildings, parking garages, a summer home, did a bit of Prohibition-era bootlegging, small-time loan-sharking, and paid cash for everything. When I began outlining From Here to Fourteenth Street, I modeled my heroine, Vita Caputo, after her. Although the story is set in New York the year before Grandma was born, I was able to bring Vita to life by calling on the family legends and stories, all word of mouth, for she never kept a journal.
Vita’s hero Tom McGlory isn’t based on any real person, but I did a lot of reading about Metropolitan Policemen and made sure he was the complete opposite! He’s trustworthy and would never take a bribe or graft. I always liked the name McGlory—then, years after the book first came out, I remembered that was the name of my first car mechanic—Ronnie McGlory.
Changing the Title
When I proposed the story to The Wild Rose Press, I wanted to change the title, as it went through so many revisions since it was first published. I wanted to express Vita’s desire to escape the Lower East Side and move farther uptown. I considered Crossing 14th Street, but it sounded too much like Crossing Delancey. After a few more hits and misses, the title hit me—as all really fitting titles do.
A Bit of Background—What Was 1894 New York City Like?
The Metropolitan Police was a hellhole of corruption, and nearly every cop, from the greenest rookie to the Chief himself, was a dynamic part of what made the wheels of this great machine called New York turn.
The department was in cahoots with the politicians, all the way up to the mayor’s office. Whoever wasn’t connected enough to become a politician became a cop in this city. They were paid off in pocket-bulging wads of cash to look the other way when it came to building codes, gambling, prostitution, every element it took to keep this machine gleaming and efficient. They oiled the machine and kept it running with split-second precision. The ordinary hardworking, slave-wage earning citizen didn’t have a chance around here. Tom McGlory and his father were two of a kind, and two of a sprinkling of cops who were cops for the right reasons. They left him alone because he was a very private person; he didn’t have any close friends, he confided in no one. He could’ve made a pocket full of rocks as a stoolie, more than he could by jumping in the fire with the rest of them, but he couldn’t enjoy spending it if he’d made it that way. They knew it and grudgingly respected him for it. He was here for one reason–his family was here. If they went, he went. As long as they needed him, here he was. Da would stop grieving for his wife when he stopped breathing. Since Tom knew he was the greatest gift she gave Da, he would never let his father down.
Meet Vita: An Interview With Vita Caputo, Heroine of FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET
Vita, we know you and Tom overcame astronomical odds to stay together. It’s like Romeo and Juliet. I can imagine how torn you felt when you wanted to be with Tom, but didn’t want to defy your father. Tell us, what was your family and homelife like when all this was going on?
Well, I loved my father and brothers more than anything, and didn’t want to defy them. Yet at the same time, I felt they weren’t respecting my wishes. I was in love with Tom, and they hated him for two reasons, which to me, were irrational—he’s Irish and he’s a cop. But you have to understand their underlying reasons—cops always gave Italian immigrants a hard time on the Lower East Side. They didn’t give Italians a fair shake. Many of them were bullied, arrested for crimes they didn’t commit—and of course if you know my story, you know that the police framed Papa and my brother for the murder of Tom’s cousin, also a cop. I can understand their hatred of the police force for this heinous act. But not the entire police force is corrupt. Teddy Roosevelt, the Commish, certainly wasn’t, and Tom certainly isn’t. But when you face this hatred and injustice every day, it’s easy to be bitter. Our homelife, before I met Tom, was the usual Italian household—we struggled to make ends meet and didn’t have much, but I always made sure we had more than enough to eat, and to share with those who had less. I went without new clothes, shoes, coats, to buy groceries so we wouldn’t go hungry. We argued over petty things—like who left the stove on—but we always made up in the end. We were very affectionate, and gave each other a lot of hugs and kisses. We sometimes felt the world was against us—and at times it was.
What did your childhood home look like?
Did you ever see the classic Jackie Gleason sitcom The Honeymooners? They had a walk-up flat in Brooklyn. Well, ours was on Mott Street in Manhattan, but our flat looked much like that—it was called a ‘railroad flat’ because all the rooms were in a row—kitchen sitting room, bedrooms in back. We shared a toilet on the landing. But compared to other Mott Street tenements, we had it made—we had indoor plumbing. No bathtub, but a sink with running water. We didn’t have to go to a backyard privy. The bedroom was partitioned off by a curtain that I’d made—one side was mine, the other side my brother’s. Papa and his wife Rosalia had another bedroom to themselves.
What is your greatest dream?
To be a Senator or Congresswoman, but I’m happy enough as a committeewoman for now.
What kind of person do you wish you could be? What is stopping you?
I wish I could be calmer and slow down. I do too much—run the household because I refuse to hire help, raise our 3 kids, work and invest our savings. I follow the stock market and purchase stocks that have long-term growth potential. What’s stopping me is my drive to get ahead.
Who was your first love?
Tom, of course. My father tried to throw me together with ‘a nice Italian boy’ Roberto Riccadonna whose family owned a music store and was ‘well off’ – but he was arrogant and controlling. He threatened me when I told him I wasn’t interested in him. He and Tom got into fisticuffs when I found Roberto under my boardinghouse window singing “O Sole Mio” with a mandolin. He had a nice voice, but Tom was hardly impressed.
What’s the most terrible thing that ever happened to you?
When Papa and my brother Butchie were arrested for the murder of Tom’s cousin Mike. It tore me into pieces, because Tom didn’t want to believe Papa and Butchie were the killers, but evidence pointed to them. We made it our quest to find the real killer, and we did. It created a huge rift in our relationship of course, but we overcame that as we got through all the other hardships and prejudices that tried to keep us apart.
What was your first job?
I started out as a sweatshop worker sewing ‘shirtwaists’ (blouses), and now I’m a committeewoman, with a view to being New York City’s first female mayor.
What’s your level of schooling?
I left school at 16 to go to work in a lampshade factory.
Where were you born?
Sassano, Italy, near Naples.
Where do you live now?
Greenwich Village, in a brownstone on East 14th Street.
Do you have a favorite pet?
They’re all favorites, two mongrel pups, Charlie and Shirley, two cats Romeo and Juliet, and assorted goldfish whose names we can’t keep up with!
What’s your favorite place to visit?
Coney Island, to sit on the beach, frolic in the ocean, eat those delicious hot dogs and fried dough, and stroll the boardwalk!
What’s your most important goal?
To see my three children become successful, respectable citizens. Doing all right so far—my daughter Assunta (Susan) owns a clothing store, my son Virgilio (Billy) writes Broadway musicals and my youngest Teresa (Tessie) wants to be a baby doctor.
What’s your worst fear or nightmare?
That the stock market will crash again or some other disaster will plunge us back into poverty.
What’s your favorite food?
My homemade lasagna with my grandmother’s sauce recipe (it’s a secret)
Are you wealthy, poor, or somewhere in between?
We’re finally members of the solid middle class.
What’s your secret desire or fantasy?
To sing in one of my son’s musicals.
What would you do if you won the lottery?
I’d buy my own airplane and give the rest to charity.
A Review From Romantic Times:
Immigrant Vita Caputo escapes New York’s Italian ghetto and secures a job in a Wall Street bank, along with a room in a Greenwich Village boarding house, thanks to Irish police officer Tom McGlory. With her new beginning, Vita even joins the Industrial reform movement.
Tom is an honest cop, with little interest in women until he meets Vita. When Tom’s cousin is murdered and Vita’s father and brother are arrested for the crime, the two team up to investigate and soon discover that they are falling in love.
Vita and Tom face economic problems, prejudice, and cultural differences. Ms. Rubino’s research is obvious.—Kathe Robin
From Rhapsody Magazine:
FROM HERE TO 14th STREET by Diana Rubino is all that and then some. Everything about this book is what writing should be–original and wonderfully executed. Bravo!—Karen L. Williams
From Book Nook Romance Reviews:
Diana Rubino has done a masterful job of researching the life of Italian and Irish immigrants in turn-of-the-century New York, its society and politics and crime. She paints a vivid picture of the degradation immigrants of Italian descent suffered, particularly at the hands of the earlier Irish immigrants they succeeded. Barred from all but the most menial jobs, forced to live crammed into the worst slums, she makes it easy for the reader to understand why many of them turned to a life of crime and violence. Not only can the reader see what Vita and Tom see, they can smell it, hear it, and taste it.
Vita is a delightful heroine, as full of vivid life as the city she lives in. Stubborn, determined to escape the ghetto in which she lives and make something of herself, she never loses her commitment to and love for her family. That very devotion, however, threatens her growing relationship with Tom, since the Irish and Italians are the Capulets and Montagues of 19th century Manhattan. Although she cannot help falling deeply in love with him, she knows that her father and brothers will never permit her to spend her life with him. And, in a departure from the usual super-masculine hero, Tom is a sensitive, secret poet as well as a cop.
If you like vivid characters and a book that carries you effortlessly back to an earlier time, FROM HERE TO 14th STREET is a good choice. –Elizabeth Burton
MORE ABOUT THE LOWER EAST SIDE: One fascinating place to visit is the Lower East Side Tenement Museum at 97 Orchard Street, once an actual tenement. They have tours describing life as it was back then, with each floor of the building decorated (if you want to call it ‘decorated’) to depict each time period when immigrants lived there. I read a lot of books to research this story. One book I remember reading as a kid is How The Other Half Lives by Jacob Riis, a photographer and reformer of the time. The photos in his 1901 book vividly illustrate the poverty and deprivation of the times, for adults and children alike.
ABOUT ME:
My passion for history and travel has taken me to every locale of my stories, set in Medieval and Renaissance England, Egypt, the Mediterranean, colonial Virginia, New England, and New York. My urban fantasy romance, FAKIN’ IT, won a Top Pick award from Romantic Times. I’m a member of Romance Writers of America, the Richard III Society and the Aaron Burr Association. I live on Cape Cod with my husband Chris. In my spare time, I bicycle, golf, play my piano and devour books of any genre.
The historical monarch I’d most like to meet is Richard III, my favorite of all time.
Inspiration is fickle. One day you’ll be seized by an idea that just won’t let you go. You throw yourself into the writing, intoxicated by the process of creation, certain this will be the best book you’ve ever produced. The sentences and paragraphs flow, the story taking shape on the page almost without effort.
Then, suddenly and inexplicably, the fire dies out. The magic evaporates, and you’re left to plod along, trying dutifully to complete the opus to which you’ve devoted your time, despite your doubts about its quality.
If you’re trying to make a living writing, you can’t afford to wait for the muse. You’ve got to produce. If, like me, you write primarily for the joy of the process, you may abandon the entire project when your inspiration disappears.
That’s what happened with By Moonlight. For years, I’d wanted to write an erotic tale based on the Alfred Noyes poem “The Highwayman”. One day the stars aligned. I sat down and wrote the first chapter in a couple of hours. It turned out exactly as I’d imagined it, both lyrical and arousing. I was chuffed, as my UK author friends would say, eager to push the tale forward.
The next weekend, though, when I sat down to continue, I discovered that inspiration had fled. The whole notion seemed silly. I really couldn’t force myself to write any more.
So I put the barely-started tale aside and worked on something else. I always have lots of potential projects in mind, far more than my writing time allows.
That was four years ago. I’d almost forgotten By Moonlight. Then a stormy night recently reminded me of the poem, and the poem reminded me of the story. When I pulled it up and re-read it, I was freshly impressed and determined to complete it.
After such a long lag, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to recreate the tone of that intense first installment. Fortunately I was able to get feedback from my online critique partners, who helped me to adjust the language and the atmosphere appropriately. All in all, I’m happy with the result. I think I’ve managed to fulfill my intentions, offering homage to the Noyes poem while twisting the story in an original (and happier) direction.
The lesson here, though, is clear. If you are an author, don’t throw anything away! Keep all your snippets, all your abandoned projects, all your monuments to the departed muse.
You really never know when inspiration will return.
I’ll come for you by moonlight – though Hell should bar the way…
In her eighteen years on earth, Bess has never traveled more than twenty miles from her Devonshire village. The raven-haired innkeeper’s daughter has little time to dream of adventure as she labors from dawn to dusk to keep her abusive father satisfied.
Then, at the weekly market in Tavistock town, she meets a handsome dandy who claims her with a single stolen kiss. When the gallant gentleman makes a midnight visit to the inn, Bess learns that her new lover is none other than Kit Latour, a notorious French highwayman who has been boldly relieving the local nobility of their valuables. Well-aware of the risk she’s taking, Bess still offers herself to the seductive outlaw. Even Kit’s darkest secrets cannot quench the flames of her love.
Excerpt (PG)
She must have drowsed, despite her determination to remain on guard. She heard no hoof beats clattering in the inn yard, no tapping on the barred shutters, only a soft whistle under her window that had her instantly alert.
She leaned out, her hair spilling over the casement. “Kit!” she cried, heedless of anyone hearing. “You’ve come at last.”
“Well met, my fair lady.” The lithe figure below gave a little bow. “Did you doubt me?”
“No doubt, my love, only fear. Your fame has spread wide. There be many who’d delight in spilling your blood.”
“Even more after tonight, I’ll wager. I’ve had rich takings along the high road. A fat, dyspeptic earl and his broomstick wife contributed generously to my cause.”
“Lord Haverstock? Oh Kit, he has the King’s ear.” She shrank back into the shadows of her bedroom, then peered anxiously into the distance. She almost expected to see His Majesty’s troops mustering on the country lane. “Why must you take such risks?”
Kit chuckled. “Without risk, life wouldn’t be worth living.” The bandit grasped the gnarled ivy vines that clung to the old inn and clambered up to the second floor. In moments, Bess was face to face with her beloved.
What was her Kit thinking, to ride in such finery against the wealthy and powerful? The coat was burgundy velvet, worn over a pure white linen shirt with a ruffle of lace at the throat. Supple doe-skin boots rose half-way up those strong thighs. The jeweled hilt of a dagger glittered at Kit’s waist. The hungry light in the bandit’s eyes burned brighter still.
“Oh, Bess, how I’ve missed you!” Kit seized her, crushing her against the velvet, and captured her mouth. Bess pressed her soft body against her lover’s harder form, savoring the heady mixture of familiar comfort and forbidden arousal she always felt in Kit’s arms. A brazen tongue ravaged her mouth while knowing hands slipped under her shift to palm her buttocks and pull her closer still.
“Take this off, girl, before I rip it from your limbs,” Kit gasped, tugging at the fabric that hid her flesh. “I cannot wait another instant.”
Not so long ago she’d been a bashful virgin, but there was no shyness in her now. She pulled the garment over her head and tossed it onto the chair, shaking her long hair free. Moonlight from the window made her pale skin glow. Kit’s eyes roamed over her nakedness. She’d never felt so beautiful, or so needy.
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, LGBTQ, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
With the proliferation of WWII novels, I had the urge to write a story of forbidden love. An Englishwoman stranded in France under the occupation, her past dealings with relationships a disaster. And a German Commandant who loathes Hitler’s policies, a recent widower who is caught by surprise at his attraction to the young woman. How do they work out their differences? Can they find love in the middle of war? Norah must face the retribution of the villagers. August must find a way to ruin a dangerous weapon to undermine the Reich.
I’ve always loved writing and putting my characters in difficult situations. This one was a challenge. How to make a German officer a sympathetic character. According to my critique partners, I’ve succeeded. But can they have a happy ending?
To make my story in Brittany, France realistic, I recommend this book.
Hitler’s Gateway to the Atlantic, by Lars Hellwinkell, 2014
Unwed and pregnant, Norah Cooper flees England to hide with her cousin in Brittany just before Germany’s 1940 invasion of France. After her baby is stillborn, she’s trapped under the Occupation as war expands across Europe. Norah grieves and consoles herself by sketching wildlife. When she’s caught too near the coast, she comes under scrutiny of the German commandant, Major August von Gottlieb.
August loathes what Hitler is doing to his country and France but is duty-bound to control the people in his jurisdiction. The lively young Englishwoman piques his interest. Is she a spy? He questions her and asks her to sketch his portrait so he might uncover the truth.
Soon, their relationship evolves into a passion neither of them can deny. She endures taunts from the villagers. His superiors warn him of not being harsh enough—he could be transferred or worse. He plans to sabotage a major war machine of the Reich, while she secretly helps the Resistance. Both acts are fraught with danger while kept secret from one another. Will their love ruin her and end in heartbreak? Or will they overcome the odds and survive the surging threats on all sides?
Excerpt:
Norah balled her hands, tears welling in her eyes. “I see the reasoning, the rules of war. But I have all this anger and sorrow I don’t know what to do with.”
August clasped her upper arms as if to keep her from running off. “I understand your misery. However, it was my responsibility.”
“Why did it have to happen?” She pressed a fist against his chest. “I know, that’s rhetorical. But I’m—”
“I wish it hadn’t. I really do, though the outcome was inevitable given the sentry’s death. And if Kerguelen hadn’t bragged about the shooting.” August kissed her forehead. “Ma cherie, please understand.”
“I can’t forgive what this war has done to us all.” She pushed at him with the heel of her hand, but not overly hard.
“This war has torn apart the world. We are in a storm, trying to be normal.” He traced a finger under her chin. “I missed you.”
“I…missed you.” She thumped her knuckles on his collarbone. “Dammit. My instincts are a mess. And I’m caught between two worlds.”
“You’re in an untenable position. Don’t let this tragedy change what we have.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek and opened the summerhouse’s back door. “Let’s go inside.”
“Everyone… The villagers, my cousins. I’m condemned, marked as your woman.”
Author bio:
Diane Parkinson (Diane Scott Lewis) grew up near San Francisco, joined the Navy at nineteen, married in Greece and raised two sons in Puerto Rico, California, and Guam. She’s a member of the Historical Novel Society and wrote book reviews for their magazine. She’s always loved travel and history and has had several historical novels published.
Diane lives with her husband and one naughty dachshund in western Pennsylvania.
Thanks for being with us today. First, would you tell us a bit about yourself? What area of the country do you live in, do you have a family, pets, etc.
KODAK Digital Still Camera
We currently live in central Arizona, ten minutes from a boat launch on one of the few lakes in our state. And, by the way, this is for my husband, FDW. I’d prefer to be farther north in the cooler mountains and pines, but he fishes. We share our home with a rescue dog, Amigo. He spent the first year of his life in a culvert with a blind dog. He was a bit wild and timid when we got him, but he’s turned into a good doggie.
Are you a coffee fiend, or do you have another “addiction” you must have on your desk at all times?
I am most certainly a coffee fiend (a coffee snob, according to FDW). I like whipped milk, cinnamon, and honey in my VERY strong coffee…but only until noon, or I’d have more trouble sleeping than I already have.
Is your education relevant to your writing, or have you branched off in something entirely different to create? How would you best describe your books?
I was an artist in my first life, but somewhere along the way, I found more fun in filling a blank page with words than with paint. My books are suspense, romance, and character driven. A suspenseful story is a must, but I always begin with characters and build from there.
Tell us about your most recent publication/whichever book you’d like to talk about today?
My newest story is Curse of Wolf Falls (The MacKenzie Chronicles Book 3). The eBook is up for preorder at a sale price and will release worldwide on 9/5.
The print version is available right now. This third story is about the youngest MacKenzie, an archaeologist. Elidor MacKenzie has a gift she can’t return—the ability to absorb the joy, pain, and suffering of others. She’s spent her life running from what she considers her curse. Now she’s home to make amends and guard a secret archaeological find. But once again, the energies of Joshua will stir the hurricane, with her at the deadly center.
What inspired you to write this story? What interesting thing did you learn or research to write it that you didn’t know before?
The series was inspired by a real-life town called Jerome, Arizona. I call the town Joshua, Arizona in the series—an 1800s mining community-turned-ghost-town, reborn hippie haven, and now tourist town clinging to the side of Spirit Mountain—hiding treacherous secrets only the MacKenzie’s can reveal.
The MacKenzie siblings were raised by free-thinking hippies, and their minds are open to whatever the universe deals them. I had fun researching auras, clairsentience, empath, and déjà vu to name a few. And my heroine, Elidor, is an archaeologist so I had to gain a bit of knowledge in that area.
What’s your favorite thing about the book featured here today? Any special memories you have in the creation of it?
I got to touch on sacred Native American myths, empathic sensations, and live in Joshua for a few months (in my head that is).
I’ve visited Jerome, renamed Joshua in the book, many times over my life. I renamed it so I could have a free hand at changing what I needed to fit the story, but making additional trips for research was a fun task.
What do you most like about writing? Least like? When did you first know you wanted to be an author?
What I most like about writing is writing. And by that I mean, the process of getting these characters out of my head on into my computer. They constantly surprise me as their stories unfold. That’s not to say I don’t have an outline or synopsis I am guided by, but the little details are so much fun to discover.
I’m not crazy about what an author has to do to get the word out about a book. Promotion is a chore, organized and more like work than writing is.
I discovered what I wanted to do rather late in life. I thought I would paint and draw for my creative outlet. Then I took a creative writing class, and I knew I’d found my love.
Do you belong to any writing groups? Are there any writing websites you find particularly useful?
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I belong to a couple of local Arizona clubs, although they aren’t too close to me. We live in the boonies. There are numerous writing sites I call upon when I need to research or gain a little knowledge.
Is there any special music you like to listen to while writing? How does it inspire you?
No, I can’t listen to music and write too. I’ve tried. It gets in my head and messes with me.
Do you belong to a critique group? What do you find most valuable about the experience?
I have several critique partners. We critique each other’s work via email because we are miles and hours apart. But I NEED these people. I don’t know how anyone can write without critique partners. Mine all have their individual strengths and they make my stories so much better with their analysis.
To encourage those still on the path, tell us a little about your path to publication. How many books have you published? How many books did you write before selling one? What do you think was the key to selling that first book?
The first book I wrote received dozens of rejections. I attempted getting an agent first. So, I set it aside and wrote a short story that wouldn’t end and became my second book. With that one, I submitted directly to a publisher, The Wild Rose Press, and they accepted. Eventually, after a few more publications, I rewrote that first book and TWRP published it too. The key to selling any book to a publisher is to polish your submission. Follow their guidelines exactly. Back when I first published, self-publishing was frowned upon. Not so now. But, and this is a big but, if you go that route, please get a professional cover designed and a real editor. No one can edit their own book.
What are you writing now? What’s next for you—will you be making personal appearances anywhere our readers can find you?
I’ve got a couple of projects going right now. I’ve received the rights back on a series that I am updating and will republish myself. I’m also in partnership with another author, Joyce Proell, and we are writing a cozy mystery series called The Chocolate Martini Sisters Mysteries. I’m having so much fun with that.
I’ve decided to make public appearances part of my routine again. These last few years, I’ve been holed up, as many of us have. Winter and Spring are the best times for those outings. I have one show booked in September in a fun little town called Chino Valley, Arizona.
Brenda Whiteside is the award-winning author of romantic suspense and romance. She’s penned a couple of historicals and straight romance, but she’s found villains and danger make a good story that much better. After living in six states and two countries—so far—she and her husband have settled in Central Arizona. They admit to being gypsies at heart so won’t discount the possibility of another move. They share their home with a rescue dog named Amigo. While FDW fishes, Brenda writes.
Thanks, Diane, for being with us today. First, would you tell us a bit about yourself? What area of the country do you live in, do you have a family, pets, etc.
Thanks for hosting me. I’m originally from Northern California. I joined the navy at nineteen and was stationed in Greece. I met and married my husband there. We have two sons and now live in Western Pennsylvania near our granddaughters. We also have one naughty dachshund for a pet. Or rather, we’re her pets.
Are you a coffee fiend, or do you have another “addiction” you must have on your desk at all times?
I’m definitely a coffee fiend in the mornings. My burgundy coffee cup is on my desk all morning, with my husband as barista. I’m a red wine fiend in the evenings. When we lived in Virginia, their wine industry was booming, and we traveled around tasting the many varieties. Pennsylvania is up and coming for wine, too, thank goodness. But we still visit Virginia once a year to see friends and drink wine. We prefer the dry reds.
Is your education relevant to your writing, or have you branched off in something entirely different to create? How would you best describe your books?
I was always proficient at creative writing in school, but I have no degree in that field. I love to research and write historical fiction. I’d call my books authentic historical fiction with strong female characters. Most of my early novels are set in the late eighteenth century, England, France, and America. Now I’m working on a WWII novel set in France.
Tell us about your most recent publication?
My most recent publication is a novella, To Entice a Spy. It’s set in England in 1794, during the French Revolution. A widowed countess returns from France to track an evil spy. But her childhood love complicates matters.
What inspired you to write this story? What interesting thing did you learn or research to write it that you didn’t know before?
When traveling in England, I found a book on eighteenth century Truro, in Cornwall. It names streets, who lived in the homes, politics, and so on. I just had to set a novel there. And since I’d researched the French Revolution for my first novel, I wanted to put it to good use and throw in spies and an aristocratic woman (I usually write of more common people) who must seek out a spy, who is also after her.
I learned that a man named William Wickham started the espionage investigators in England at this same time, referred to as the Secret Services. I use him briefly as a character.
What’s your favorite thing about the book featured here today? Any special memories you have in the creation of it?
I loved being in the POV of a villain, a first for me. How nasty could I make him, and still make him believable? Even villains need plausible motivations for their actions. I had planned to visit Truro, the town where my story is set, but due to family issues, I had to cancel.
What do you most like about writing? Least like? When did you first know you wanted to be an author?
I like the research, getting my facts correct. I also enjoy creating quirky characters. The least? Promotion. You’re always pushing your books in people’s faces. Please buy! I need a cheap publicity firm.
I’ve always enjoyed writing. My first stories I illustrated at age five, then asked my mom to write the words I dictated. I wrote my first novel, set in ancient Egypt and Rome, at age ten. At this age major movies were my inspiration, such as Cleopatra and Mutiny on the Bounty.
Do you belong to any writing groups? Are there any writing websites you find particularly useful?
I belong to the Historical Novel Society, and once belonged to the Napoleonic Historical Society. I’ve found the HNS conferences helpful and have made friends there. I’ve gotten to visit cities all over the U. S. for the conferences.
For me, Jack Lynch’s Eighteenth Century Studies website is the most useful.
Is there any special music you like to listen to while writing? How does it inspire you?
I usually like it quiet, although I enjoy soft classic rock, and classical music; it puts me in a better mood. Now that my husband is retired, I hear the Today show from the other room.
Do you belong to a critique group? What do you find most valuable about the experience?
I’ve been with an on-line critique group since 2005. People come and go, and we even had a mutiny that split the group in half. But we prevail. My partners are diverse, and bring many vital aspects to the writing experience. Some might be good on grammar, others on character motivation, plot themes.
I met one of my critique partners in England three years ago. We’ve written together since 2006, and finally met face-to-face. Wonderful. I’ve also been in face-to-face groups that were helpful. I miss the one I had in Virginia.
To encourage those still on the path, tell us a little about your path to publication. How many books have you published? How many books did you write before selling one? What do you think was the key to selling that first book?
My path was a long and winding road. I never have gotten an agent interested, and the Big Houses no longer accept un-agented queries. So my first publisher was a small on-line press. I’m now with two well-established medium presses, one on Canada and one in New York. I have thirteen published novels.
I stuck with my first book (I’m stubborn) constantly revising it. That was my first sale after ten years of on and off queries—and tons of re-writes. The key is revision, critique partners, and perseverance. Take workshops and go to conferences.
What are you writing now? What’s next for you—will you be making personal appearances anywhere our readers can find you?
I’m working on a WWII novel set in Brittany France. I have an unusual love story in the midst of war. How can it possibly end happily? We’ll see.
My next appearance will be at the Oil City Book Festival, in Oil City, Pennsylvania; date not yet determined. I did it last year and had a great time. Anything else you would like to add?
Just thanks again for hosting me, and your questions are thorough and thoughtful.
Most authors borrow from their own experience in crafting their fiction, to a greater or lesser extent. People, places, and situations from our lives get selected, altered and recombined. This helps to make our tales lively, realistic and believable.
In my most recent release, Incognito, I mined my personal history to a greater extent than usual. The novel is set in the historic Beacon Hill district of Boston, with parallel plot lines in the present and in the late Victorian era. As it happens, I had the good fortune to live in Beacon Hill myself for eighteen months, back in the nineties, and I loved every minute. As I wandered along the cobblestone streets, marveling at the ivy-covered row houses, I felt as though I were going back in time. I’ve mentioned in other blog posts that I have a peculiar affinity for Victorian architecture, fashion and culture. Living in Beacon Hill was a dream come true.
My heroine Miranda literally walks in my footsteps. In fact, her apartment on Charles Street, with its wrought iron fire escape looking out on the brick alley, is more or less based on the place I rented. The antique and bric-a-brac shop where she discovers Beatrice’s diary was a place I often browsed. Louisburg Square, where Beatrice’s home is located, is as elegant today as it was in her time.
I even threw in some of my favorite restaurants. Both Iruña and the Guernavaca Cafe are closed now, but when I lived in Boston, they were much as described in the book. The trendy sandwich bar across from Miranda’s building where she and Lucy have lunch is also based on a real place – and according to the Internet, it’s still in business!
Of course some of the book’s locations come purely from my imagination, like the Fantasy Factory sex club and the seedy bar down by the waterfront where Miranda plays billiards with the bikers. All in all, though, I shamelessly indulged myself while writing Incognito, recreating many happy memories.
I wonder if my readers can tell?
Incognito New Release Giveaway
Win a $10 bookstore GC or free books in my INCOGNITO giveaway. Contest runs from June 1 to June 15.
To enter, do any or all of the following. (Each action is one entry.)
On June 16th, I will randomly select one grand-prize winner who’ll get a $10 gift certificate, plus two runner-ups who can choose any ebook from my indie back list.
THE STORY:
During the day, Miranda Cahill works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, she has sex with strangers.
Public coupling, multiple partners, age play, spankings, bondage, lesbian lust—each salacious adventure exposes new dimensions of her depravity. Her secret life explodes when she realizes her masked partner at a kink club and the charismatic colleague courting her are in fact the same man.
Dickens scholar Mark Anderson seems like an affable, uncomplicated Midwesterner, but he has hidden depths, myriad talents, and an unlimited appetite for erotic variety. With Mark as her guide, Miranda comes to accept the intricacy of her own desires, as well as to trust her heart.
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
I scarcely know how to commence this account of my adventures and my sins. Indeed, I do not fully understand why I feel compelled to commit these things to writing. Clearly, my purpose is not to review and relive these experiences in the future, for in twenty minutes’ time these sentences will be invisible even to me. Perhaps in the years ahead, I will trail my fingers across the empty parchment, colored like flesh, and the memories will come alive without the words, coaxed from the pages by my touch like flames bursting from cold embers.
I have a secret life, another self, and that secret has become a burden that I clutch to myself, and yet would be relieved of. So, like the Japanese who write their deepest desires on slips of rice paper and then burn them, I write of secret joys and yearnings, and send that writing into oblivion.
Let me begin again. My name is Beatrice. The world sees me as poised, prosperous, respectable, wife of one of Boston’s leading merchants and industrialists, mother of two sweet children, lady of a fine brick house on fashionable Mount Vernon Street, with Viennese crystal chandeliers, Chinese porcelain, French velvet draperies, and Italian marble fireplaces. I devote myself to the education of my dear Daniel and Louisa, the management of my household, works of charity, cultural afternoons. In sum, the many and sundry details of maintaining oneself in proper society.
Though I have borne two children, I am still considered beautiful. Indeed, with my golden locks, fair skin, sapphire eyes and rosy lips, I am often compared to an angel. How little they know, those who so describe me. For in truth, I am depraved, wanton, and lecherous, so lost that I do not even regret my fall.
My husband is a kind, intelligent, and honorable man, for whom I have the deepest regard and affection. He treats me with the utmost consideration and respect; he rarely comes to my bed and when he does, he is profuse with apologies for his unfortunate lust. Alas, he hardly knows or understands me. I understand him to a much greater extent, enough to know that I must lie still and silent under him, not move or cry out as his manhood dances inside me. Everyone knows that for proper women, the rites of the flesh are a trial that must be endured; men are subject to carnal weakness, and women’s lot is to be the passive receptacle of their spending. This is what my husband believes. Knowing he believes this takes the fire from the moment, and makes it easier for me to play my frigid, compliant role.
I know better, though.
Today, I walked in Louisburg Square with Daniel, Louisa, and their nurse. The weather was glorious, sky of limpid blue sown with fluffy clouds, new leaves dancing in the breeze. My parasol raised against the sun, I did not see him until he was almost upon us.
He was of medium height, sumptuously attired, as fair-haired and blue-eyed as I. His mouth had a fullness that I liked, the look of someone who savors the sweet things in life, and a readiness to smile. As he swept off his hat and bowed, I noticed his hands, with long delicate fingers clad in beige kid gloves.
“Good afternoon, Madame,” he said courteously. “I trust that you and your children are enjoying this fine weather.”
Meanwhile, his eyes were sending me a different, more intimate message, which would have been lost on someone who was not sensitized to such things. There were no words in this message, only images, emotions, sensation, a quickening of breath, a heat, a tightening.
I am perpetually amazed at how we recognize each other, those of us who live beyond the pale of propriety. Is it some primal scent that we exude? Some subtle clue in posture or expression? Could it in fact be some spiritual connection, a mingling of thoughts in the ether? The mechanism is obscure to me, but I know the phenomenon only too well. I have sat in a concert hall with two hundred elegantly dressed, respectable members of proper society and found my eyes drawn to a single face in the balcony, a set of eyes that knew me, saw through my finery to the hungry flesh beneath.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” I said, my voice low and modest. “It is indeed fine, especially for so early in the season.”
“Of course, that may indicate that it will become hot sooner than usual.” The gentleman’s eyes sparkled with humor at his little private joke. Hot indeed, I thought to myself, adjusting my expression to signal some slight disapproval.
“I do not believe that I have the pleasure of your acquaintance, Sir,” I said.
“Forgive me for my lack of courtesy.” He reached into his waistcoat, withdrew a card and wrote something upon it. “Here is my card.”
“Thank you.” I examined the card. It was not, in fact, a visiting card, but a blank upon which he had inscribed the following few words:
Ten O’clock this evening
No. __ Beacon Street
With respect and hope,
Charles Burnside
His name was unknown to me. Clearly he must be one of the many visitors to our prosperous city. I gave him my most luminous smile. “Perhaps we will meet again, Sir.” “I do hope so, Madame. Adieu for now.”
Please welcome Naima Haviland! Thanks for being with us today. First, would you tell us a bit about yourself? What area of the country do you live in, do you have a family, pets, etc.
Oh, thank you so much for inviting me! I just moved from the Florida panhandle back to the state of my birth, Pennsylvania. My father is a published poet who lives nearby in Pittsburgh, and we enjoy talking about the craft of writing. I live to serve two dogs named Mini and Beanie, and they answer to a cat named Yardcat.
Are you a coffee fiend, or do you have another “addiction” you must have on your desk at all times?
Music and a deck of cards. When inspiration strikes, I move my fingers from my solitaire game to the keyboard.
Is your education relevant to your writing, or have you branched off in something entirely different to create? How would you best describe your books?
Readers can expect immersive worlds and complex characters; however, my plots go in unexpected directions. I bend genres, cross genres, and mix them. Some of my novels could be called paranormal romances but they’re also definitely horror novels. I’ll mix vampires with folk magic and history; or modern gothic with erotica. Or I’ll start a short story as a romance and finish it as a time-traveling mystery. My fashion career influences my writing in that you always know what everyone’s wearing, and until recently, everyone looked like a model. But in my latest novel, which has been called a steampunk romance, the lovers have physical challenges you don’t usually see in a romance novel.
Tell us about your most recent publication.
The Name I Chose, is a novel of passion and peril set in an alternative Victorian England. Bold inventions usher in a new age, while genetic and cosmetic sciences reinforce an age-old class system.For the rich, immunity to disability and disease justifies their hold on power. Upper-class beauty, Philomena Paulson appears perfect but she has secrets only her disfigured music teacher, Mordecai Michaeleson, understands. Acceptance, trust, and a passion for music compose bonds of forbidden love between them. When chance discovery of Philomena’s darkest secret provokes an act of shocking violence, Mordecai is framed for the crime. In my latest novel, I manage to combine romance, a steampunk London, a criminal underworld, body positivity, and social justice. This creative journey was a wild ride for me, and I hope people enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
What inspired you to write this story? What interesting thing did you learn or research to write it that you didn’t know before?
The idea came in a story dream, which is just my brain entertaining me. This dream was about a naïve and disadvantaged young couple eloping in Victorian times. As the omniscient viewer, I knew the strangers chatting them up in a pub were bad news. I woke up before I could warn them. So I decided to write their story.
I brushed up on menswear in the gilded age. Ascot ties were in. Stock ties were relics of a bygone era. In The Name I Chose, an eccentric thug named Callum adopts vintage fashion as his signature style.
What’s your favorite thing about the book featured here today? Any special memories you have in the creation of it?
My earlier novels and my anthology are dark, and while I am proud of them, I’m excited by the lighthearted nature of The Name I Chose. There’s a refreshing optimism woven through this new novel, despite the dark intentions of its villains. My recent short stories hinted at a new direction in tone, but The Name I Chose is my first full length adventure embodying this playful spirit.
What do you most like about writing? Least like? When did you first know you wanted to be an author?
My elementary school teachers always told me to quit daydreaming and pay attention. Now that I’m a writer, I like most that I’m allowed to daydream! I wouldn’t say I like marketing the least, but it is the writing-related activity I’m least skilled at handling.
My friends knew I wanted to be an author before I did. Way back when we were still in braces and training bras, I used to write stories in the margins of their bibles during church.
Do you belong to any writing groups? Are there any writing websites you find particularly useful?
I belong to Pennwriters, a marvelous fellowship of writers in Pennsylvania. I subscribe to David Gaughran’s newsletter to stay abreast of indie publishing platforms and marketing. And I subscribe to The Book Designer’s newsletter to stay current on trends in production.
Is there any special music you like to listen to while writing? How does it inspire you?
I just disappear into the world the music evokes and let my imagination fly around. For instance, when writing The Name I Chose, I listened to the soundtrack of Peaky Blinders to get into scenes that involve the criminal elements in the story.
Do you belong to a critique group? What do you find most valuable about the experience?
A chapter of Pennwriters meets monthly and there’s a related Pennwriters group that meets weekly. Attending critique groups allows fresh perspective into my process.
To encourage those still on the path, tell us a little about your path to publication. How many books have you published? How many books did you write before selling one? What do you think was the key to selling that first book?
The key was persistence. Like tennis, I’d serve the ball and publishers would lob it back. This game went on for a few years until a small press accepted my first manuscript. To date, I’ve self-published three novels, an anthology, and several short stories. Quality is the key to indie success, because it takes a well-written, well-edited, beautifully-designed book to satisfy readers – they are the rightful gatekeepers to acceptance in the book world.
What are you writing now? What’s next for you—will you be making personal appearances anywhere our readers can find you?
My next novel will be a paranormal story set during World War I, told through the eyes of an American soldier. I’m scheduling in-person and online appearances now. Readers can invite me to present to their group via my Facebook page. That’s also the best place to find out where I’ll appear next.
Anything else you would like to add?
PL Travers, the author of Mary Poppins, believed that ideas floated independently, searching for the person who would actualize them. I like to think an idea could choose any one of us, any time, if we just keep our minds and hearts open. We are all creative.
Bio: Naima Haviland writes novels and short stories in various genres, from dark fantasy to light romance. She takes as inspiration the Southeast United States, including the Florida panhandle, an ocean paradise with a not-too-distant past full of eccentrics, explorers, pirates, ghosts, and UFOs.
The Twenty-One-Year Contract is a standalone, just like its prequel Secrets, Shame, and a Shoebox. Both are 20th Century Fiction>romance>drama>crime>mystery>suspense. I didn’t realize when I started out, but generally I write romance, filled with characters that have something to say and plot lines that are real life. What happened in history still happens today. I aim to expose that fact.
Do you believe that characters are the most important part of your stories?
Characters wake me up in the middle of the night shouting “hey listen to me, I’ve got something to say, come on write it down!” How can I possibly ignore them? Their stories about strong women, courage, and survival. They are real, honest, hardworking. Though of course some are not so much. There’s always the villain that everyone loves to hate.
Then there’s those who read my books and tell me something that makes my day. One said, after reading Secrets, Shame, and a Shoebox, “I’m so glad Harriet was fired from her job. At least she didn’t have to put up with that dreadful employer!” Another person said, “I hated that CJ. What a monster!” My heart sang. It’s such a compliment and so heartwarming to know that they’ve enjoyed my book. It means that I have done my job. What more can I ask? I’m truly humbled to think my stories provoke thought and emotion.
What’s the fun part of writing and why?
I love the way the characters grab me by the hand and lead me along paths I could never have dreamed of. They tell me what they want to say, and what’s going to happen next. Who would have thought it? I love that, and I love them. They are survivors, though they don’t see themselves that way, they sure are!
Why did you write The Twenty-One-Year Contract that you’re talking about today?
I’m an observer of life. Like most writers I imagine, and I’ve been fortunate travel and to have worked alongside and taught some amazing people. Those I taught in return taught me. I’ve admired their strength of character, their courage, and will to live. I learned so much from them it has been astounding. Both my published books are standalone.
Then there are those coincidences. How many times have you been on holiday and bumped into someone you know in a far-flung country? Or met someone that you knew as a child and found lived for years just a stone’s throw away? What are the chances? But they’ve happened to me. I bet they have happened to you, or maybe you know someone who has talked their experiences anecdotally at a party or over coffee.
What’s the most difficult part of writing and why?
Okay, well let’s get down to brass tacks. Finding time and that difficult word: Marketing! For me it’s a real issue unless you are a natural born salesperson, which I am not. Some people can sell snow to the Inuit’s! I’ve never been good at bragging about myself, and that’s what it feels like. Selling my brand, telling everyone I’m great, my books are great. Go out and buy my book. Really, that’s not me. I’m shy enough as it is! But that would be wonderful if you did buy my book. Thank you.
Marketing can also be expensive, not only in time but money, and of course it stops me doing what I love to do most. Writing stories.
My sincere thanks go to every reader who has or is considering buying my book. Without you lovely readers, writers wouldn’t be needed. So, thank you from the very bottom of my heart.
How do you get to know your readers? What do you learn from your readers?
Reviews are brilliant. They tell a story. I learn from that and thank them for their valuable time and effort and those who share their kind thoughts in other ways.
I also blog. I offer simple writing suggestions for budding authors and share what I’ve learned along the way.
I offer to host authors, new and experienced to give my readers a chance to see who else is out there and share their thoughts.
If there’s anything else I think might be of interest, I post again on social media. And I get a real buzz to hear back from them. However, here comes an apology with regard to my blog. www.wifeinthewest.com because I have temporarily stopped responding to my readership. Why? Because unfortunately I have had over a 1000 scams/trolls ruining perfectly good dialogue my readers, with genuine questions. I take hours to read through messages to weed out the good from the bad. I’ve begun with a clean-up program, hopefully that will resolve the issue.
Oh, and I’ve also recently listed my recent up to date program on my blog so readers knew what is available, rather than them having to trawl through every post.
Kathleen Gray is our central character of The Twenty-One-Year Contract. Kate, as she is now known, agreed I could ask her a question for this blog. I think I floored her when I did. It was difficult for her I have to admit.
“In a nutshell Kate, why did you run away?” Kate gave me such a look.
“In a nutshell?” Her eyes watered, I felt guilty for asking, but she plowed on ever the determined character she is. “I think you know the answer to that, but honestly, I wanted to find my birth mother. But then of course there was Uncle Jack. I absolutely adore him. Since my parents died… he had to take care of me… I knew he needed to get on with his own life. He needed to settle down, get married, have a family of his own. He couldn’t do that with me hanging around.”
***
Dorian Craddock is a secondary character in The Twenty-One-Year Contract. She’s pure evil, but in my opinion, she shines out as one of those people you love to hate. I thought I’d push one of her buttons to get a response.
“Dorian, I think you owe an answer to our readers as to why you feel the need to be so mean to so many people.” I handed her the mic. And started typing furiously.
“I owe the readers an answer, do I? Seriously? Who do you think you are, pushing me about, asking me to tell the readers about my business? Really, I’m mean? Besides, you know full well Harriet and Kate got everything they deserved! It could have been so much worse.” She gave me one of those sly smiles. “Read the dialogue, read between the lines. You wrote it. I’m owed plenty, as you well know, and I’m going to get what I deserve.”
(Little does she know!)
Tagline: Only a simple shoebox, but full of secrets…
Blurb: Kathleen Gray—talented, a little wild, at times rebellious, but always popular—has a fun, easy life in rural Somerset, with a doting family.
Suddenly, they are gone, everything is changed, and she has only Uncle Jack. Try as he might, he cannot be father and mother to her—he has a business to run and his own life to manage.
Kathleen takes a chance and becomes Kate Westfield, fending for herself in London, with a new life built on her hopes and dreams and new friends. She could hardly have imagined that one of those friends has a shoebox full of answers.
SNIPPET FROM The Twenty-One-Year Contract
‘After a glass of water, Jack made himself a cup of tea and returned to the job in hand. This was going to be much harder than he could ever have imagined. Working deep through the night, Jack methodically sifted through volumes of paperwork until light inched its way through the curtain. Though he felt thoroughly ready for bed, he continued searching, his aim to find at least a smidgen of information about his niece. Randomly tidying up as he went, Jack noticed an encyclopedia oddly extended over one of the top shelves. He tried pushing it back into place. It was jammed. It looked awkward. Pulling it out to check the depth of the book, he found a box file hidden behind. Upon the side panel was one word, capitalized in thick bold lettering: KATHLEEN As the hazy sunlight grew, puzzled, Jack pulled the curtains to lend natural light, took the file off the shelf, sat back in Henry’s chair, and looked inside…’
BIO:
I’ve been happily married for 46 years and lucky enough to be surrounded by my lovely family. I’m lucky to be a grandmother of 5 and had plans to trek the world when we retired. But that was put on hold for good reason. We were in Spain when the invisible big bad wolf arrived (Covid). It changed so many lives, forever.
Going back in history, I was told I was thick at school. No-one should ever do that, not to anyone. I’ve always had this notion I wanted teach and write, and I did, even though I came out of school with nothing. Just goes to show if I can do it anyone can!
Potted history: Married, two children and did a wide range of jobs: from cleaner, to barmaid, to secretary, to social worker and eventually got my certificates and became a lecturer. Nothing stopped me writing though. It’s a passion. I always wrote around the full-time paid job. Well, the bills don’t pay themselves do they?
When I eventually retired, my husband and I decided to travel. I still didn’t have the confidence to submit my work. If it hadn’t been for a a couple of good friends and my husband with a: ‘do it before you pop your clogs mate,’ I don’t think I ever would have been in this wonderful position now. I couldn’t believe it when I was offered the contract! Pinch me!
Available now Secrets, shame and a Shoebox / Sequel: The Twenty-One-Year Contract.
Reviews can be found on Amazon, Waterstones, Barnes & Noble, Bookbub, Goodreads, and the books can be ordered at all good book stores near you.
Title: The Twenty-One-Year Contract Series Name: Prequel to Secrets, Shame, and a Shoebox 20th Century Historical fiction> romance>mystery>suspense Page Count: 382 Word Count: 86297 Digital Price: $5.99 Print Price: $18.99
Alana Lorens, author 