fiction

A titillating trio of tales

Lisabet Sarai has put together a boxed set that readers of lascivious love stories will be thrilled to read.I’ve enjoyed every one of her stories I’ve read, and if you’re ready to be amazed and, shall we say, stimulated? You will be, too. 🙂

Three women. Three worlds. Three erotic journeys where each salacious adventure reveals new dimensions of desire.

Incognito: By day, Miranda Cahill works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, she has sex with strangers—until one man strips away her mask.

Rajasthani Moon:  Voluptuous spy Cecily Harrowsmith has never failed to complete an assignment. Now, imprisoned by the perverse brothers who control rebellious Rajasthan, she risks betrayal by both her body and her heart.

Raw Silk: In the exotic City of Angels, software engineer Kate O’Neill becomes intimately involved with two very different men—a handsome and debauched member of the Thai aristocracy, and the charismatic, dominant proprietor of a sex bar.

This boxed set collects three of Lisabet Sarai’s boldest and most arousing romance novels in a single, outrageous package.

Raw. Sensual. Explicit.

Brazen.

Buy Links

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HBNC7M63

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0HBNC7M63

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0HBNC7M63

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/255943751-brazen

Add on Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/brazen-by-lisabet-sarai

Free on Kindle Unlimited! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HBNC7M63

Want to read an excerpt of Lisabet’s divine description? Check this out:

Rajasthani Moon

It would have been much faster to fly.

Alas, Cecily Harrowsmith—special agent for Her Majesty the Queen, expert in the martial arts of three continents, past mistress of princes, potentates and the occasional prime minister—was afraid of flying. She despised herself for this weakness, but not enough to board one of the Empire’s sleek, viridium-powered airships, strap herself into her seat and hope for the best.

Hence the current tedious journey. Cecily peered out of the window of her carriage at the endless expanse of russet-coloured desert stretching in all directions. The mere sight of all that sand was enough to make her throat burn. She sipped her tepid tea, wondering for the twentieth time why she’d accepted this bloody assignment.

For England, of course, and the good of the Empire. Her Majesty could scarcely afford to have her vassal states simply refuse to pay their taxes. When the Rajah of Jaipur had expelled Her Majesty’s tax collectors and declared his kingdom independent, the Queen had imposed a viridium embargo. No society these days could function without the energy-rich mineral. At least this was the theory. Yet the Rajah and his half-brother had held out for the past three years, despite being completely cut off from the Empire’s supply lines.

Cecily’s job was to discover how the isolated principality had managed to survive. She’d also been instructed to convince the errant rulers to return to the bosom of the Empire, if at all possible. If persuasion failed, she was authorised to use force. However, she doubted this would be necessary. Persuasion was after all her forte.

Once more she extracted the portraits of the twin rulers of Rajasthan from her portmanteau to study their countenances. Both had skin the colour of nicely browned toast. Amir, the official Rajah, was clean-shaven, with deep-set eyes, a prominent nose and lips as full as a girl’s. He wore his hair in European style but the rainbow-hued turban perched on his head as well as the loops piercing his well-shaped ears were more than enough to dispel any notion that he’d been anglicised. Pratan looked far less civilised, with tangled black locks reaching to his shoulders and a drooping moustache that gave him a permanent sneer. He shared his brother’s regal nose but his features were more angular, less finished-looking than his aristocratic sibling’s. Both men were strikingly handsome, each in his own way. The paintings provided little information about their figures, but, given the stark, unforgiving nature of their country, Cecily thought it unlikely that they’d be stout. With luck, their bodies would have the same masculine appeal as their faces.

With a sigh, she tucked the images away and settled back against the cushions. Cecily was a woman of action. The two-day journey from Bombay had sorely tried her patience. Miserable roads—cart tracks, really—had limited the speed of her private motorised carriage. She could have travelled many times faster on Britain’s macadam highways.

Nevertheless, she’d been glad to escape the superficial, conservative society of London—the falseness and the gossip, back-stabbing and double-dealing. Not to mention the dank weather and the horribly uncomfortable clothing. She knew that a tightly-laced corset accentuated her ample curves, but she far preferred native dress, especially in this kind of heat. She shook out the voluminous skirt of her chaniya choli, admiring the little mirrors sewn into the blue and orange print. The Rajasthani women wore nothing underneath and she followed suit. It was far more practical when one had to answer the call of nature out here in the middle of nowhere.

The quilted fabric brushed against her unprotected pubis, engendering a pleasant tickling sensation. Now there was an idea for passing the time… When she glanced outside again, she noted that the sun was lower. The land had become rougher and greener as they approached the foothills of the Aravalli range. Jaipur was located on the other side of the mountains.

She tapped one of the buttons on the polished wood control panel to her right in order to signal the driver. “How much longer before we arrive?” she asked in fluent Hindi.

“At least three hours, ma’am,” came the disembodied voice. “Not until after dark, I should think.”

After dark. That wasn’t good at all. Bandits tended to flourish in this sort of wild landscape. “Well, do your best to get us there as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Three hours. She checked the dagger strapped to her upper arm, well-hidden under her sleeve. When she made a fist, the knife shot into her hand, ready for use. Her Majesty’s engineers truly had no equal. There was a miniature pistol tucked into her waist as well, a marvel of workmanship no less deadly for its tiny size. These weapons would have to do. If brigands struck, she’d have no time to access the cache of armaments hidden under the clothing in her trunk.

(You’ll have to get the set to read about how bad this bandit can really be…)

About Lisabet

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, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more.

Lisabet lives in Southeast Asia with her husband of over forty years and several rescue cats, where she pursues an occupation completely unrelated to her literary endeavors.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub, Twitter. AND now BlueSky!  Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.lisabetsarai.com

Blog: https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/lisabetsarai

Smashwords Author Page: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LSarai

Twitter/X: https://www.twitter.com/lisabetsarai (@lisabetsarai)

BlueSky: https://bsky.app/profile/lisabetsarai.bsky.social

Medium: https://medium.com/@lisabet_63394

Spotlight on debut Wild Rose Press author Marle Berry

 Should enemies ever fall in love? Can they?

Please welcome debut novelist Marle Berry! JUSTICE DENIED coming August 31, 2026!

    Defense attorney, Eve Brady, taken hostage by her drug dealing client, escapes into deep winter woods. She thinks her nightmare is over until she calls police for help and finds herself branded a fugitive. She runs, vowing to stay free to prove her innocence.

   But who will fight for her? The only investigator she trusts to push hard to get the truth is the last man she wants to call, her nemesis, Detective Bob Milano. Their past is a mess of mistrust, arguments, and an undercurrent of attraction, suppressed, and never explored. Would he even speak to her after their last combative encounter? Or would he just slap a pair of cuffs on her?

   With dragnet searches tightening, Eve gambles: find Milano and convince him to help her before time runs out.  

EXCERPTS:

Before she reached the defense table, a barrage of gunfire shattered the calm, cozy atmosphere. She dove into the well area that separated the lawyers from the judge’s bench to hide under the overhang. Sarah already filled the space. Her machines lay on the floor beside her.

Eve changed direction toward the witness stand and squeezed behind it into a narrow space. She hugged the floor.

Bullets sprayed the room, ripping into walls, tearing into furniture, anything in the way. Screams froze in her throat. They were all sitting ducks in such a small room.

Loud grunts and groaning nearby filtered through to her fear-crazed brain as she cowered. Sounds of a scuffle and heavy breathing continued until a gunshot exploded nearby. She heard a thud like a heavy sack hitting the floor. Silence followed. She prayed.

Meeder’s voice broke the quiet. “Get out here, lawyer lady. I don’t have time to waste.”

****

They clomped along the bottom of a hill. As she trudged in snow up to her knees, her strength faded. How could she fight him now? Weakness inched through her limbs like the sluggish flow of thick syrup. She slumped to the ground near a rotting log. Her feet and toes were numb. Breathing felt like inhaling glass.

“Get up.”

She opened her eyes.

“You didn’t do your damn job. We’re late.” His voice sounded hollow, like he stood far away.

She squinted at his cadaverous face.

They would both be frozen dead soon, she mused, almost without concern. “There’s a road at the top of the hill. I don’t know how far from the lot we’ll come out.”

She caught her thoughts drifting into capitulation. A voice in her ear startled her to attention. “You’ve never been a quitter. She latched on to it. Damn right. I’m not a quitter. With thoughts reset, she strained to listen for more. It was her husband, Eddie. “Kill him. You can do it. He’s weak. Be ready.”

Meeder grabbed a branch and pulled himself upright from squatting in the snow.

Revulsion filled her heart as she purged from her mind every consideration for him as a human. Pure evil stared back at her every time she dared look at him.

Author Bio

  Marle Berry writes to entertain herself and others. Justice Denied is her first novel, but she started writing short stories as a teen. She put away her tales for college and law school.

After decades as a practicing lawyer and writing technical briefs her original love of writing fiction lured her to a writers’ group. Sharing the creative process took her back to crafting adventures to tickle the brain and lift the soul.

Only her Aussie Terrier and Poodle who love giving orders can bark her away from writing romantic suspense, her favorite genre.

BUY LINKS:

Amazon:  Justice Denied: Berry, Marle: 9781509266203: Amazon.com: Books 


Walmarthttps://www.walmart.com/search?q=marle+berry+book+Justice+Denied  

BooksaMillion:   Justice Denied by Marle Berry  

Barnes and Noble:  Justice Denied | Barnes & Noble® 


Apple:  https://books.apple.com/us/book/id978-1-5092-6621 

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/254140125-justice-denied?from_search=true&from_srp=true&qid=kqfMFvLVJA&rank=1  

Author Links

Website            http://www.romanticsuspense.net

Bookbub:https://www.bookbub.com/authors/marle-berry

Theme(s): Romance, Action-Adventure, Thriller
Sub Genre(s): Suspense,
Page Count: 416
Word Count: 99,938

Please leave a comment below to wish her well!

This woman smells like lavender and gun oil

PLEASE WELCOME BEST-SELLING AUTHOR SUSAN GABLE!!

Rafael Silva built an empire on control. Billion-dollar acquisitions. Boardrooms that bow. A glass penthouse high above Denver where his seven-year-old daughter, Ellie, should have been untouchable.

Then someone photographed Ellie’s empty classroom chair. And every wall he’d built meant nothing.

Raya Baptiste doesn’t do walls. A graduate of the Norford Academy and an elite protection specialist, she has guarded heads of state, stopped assassination attempts, and learned to move through wealthy homes like a ghost. She really is the nanny — she’s just also the most dangerous person in the building. Her mission is simple: keep one little girl alive.

The complication is her employer.

Rafe doesn’t trust easily. Raya doesn’t stay. Ellie doesn’t count on anyone, because the nannies always leave.

But when the threat escalates from surveillance to siege, the woman hired to protect his daughter becomes the one person Rafe can’t protect himself from — the one who sees through every wall he’s ever built.

In a world of bulletproof glass and billion-dollar fortresses, the most dangerous thing in the room is the truth: that the invisible woman might be the only one worth being seen by.

EXCERPT:

Three weeks in. Rafe’s daughter has just been driven away to safety, and he is alone in an elevator with the woman he hired to protect her.

The elevator doors closed and Rafe made his mistake. He turned to look at her.

She stood closer than he’d registered. The elevator was smaller than it seemed from outside, and with his body angled toward her the distance was less than two feet, and she faced the doors but knew he’d turned, he could tell by the quality of her stillness, the slight realignment of awareness she couldn’t hide from someone who’d spent three weeks learning to read her.

His daughter was in a car driving away from him. His chest paralyzed from a seven-year-old’s parenting advice. And Raya Baptiste stood twenty inches away with her hands at her sides and her posture rigid and the faintest trace of strawberry shampoo from her shoulder where Ellie had held on this morning.

He took one step. Not closing the distance so much as making it honest.

She turned her head.

Their eyes met. For the length of one held breath, neither of them moved. Then his gaze dropped — just for a moment, just long enough — to her mouth. He looked back up.

She’d seen it. Of course she’d seen it. This was Raya Baptiste, who missed nothing. She looked at him with an expression he hadn’t seen before. Not the professional stillness, not the tactical read. Something more careful than either of those. Something that took its time.

The moment stretched.

Then she shook her head. Small. Almost nothing. The same measured gentleness she used when she needed Ellie to understand something without feeling bad about not knowing it yet.

Not this. Not now.

The gentleness hit worse than a harder refusal would have. A hard no he could’ve pushed against. This was her being kind about a door she was closing. That kindness landed like a blade.

He turned back to the doors. Kept his hands where they were.

The elevator climbed.

Susan Gable was practically born with a book in her hand and hasn’t put it down since. As a kid she devoured her Weekly Reader Book Club deliveries — bonus points if they came with records.

After ten years of wrangling elementary students, and one unforgettable year of homeschooling her own son, Susan decided writing fiction was cheaper than therapy. She spent a decade writing for Harlequin before reclaiming her rights and going independent, which means she’s navigated both sides of publishing and has opinions about each.

Thousands of pages later, she’s a USA Today bestselling author whose books have been RITA® and Golden Heart® finalists, Romantic Times Best Superromance of the Year nominees, and National Readers’ Choice Award winners. She’s sold nearly a million copies worldwide.

Susan writes hard, real-life subjects — grief, adoption, the families we build when the ones we’re given don’t hold — with warmth, wit, and an ending that sends you off feeling good. Her readers describe her books as the ones that make them laugh, cry, and occasionally snort out loud.
She’s currently writing the Broke to Billionaires series: four self-made men, the women who turn their worlds upside down, and the trouble that has a way of finding the very wealthy.

She lives in Erie, Pennsylvania, with her husband, her dog, her cat, and a book collection that has outgrown the house. A Pennwriters member since 2000, she teaches craft and marketing workshops for writers.

TITLE The Billionaire’s Ninja Nanny
SERIES Broke to Billionaires, Book 1
AUTHOR Susan Gable
GENRE Contemporary romantic suspense
HEAT LEVEL Warmer than sweet, love-story-first. Open-door but mild — two short scenes,
both easily skipped.
LENGTH Approximately 110,000 words
FORMATS Ebook and paperback
EBOOK PRICE $4.99
BUY LINK books2read.com/GableNinjaNanny
FREE SAMPLE Read Chapter One at SusanGable.com
AUTHOR SITE SusanGable.com
CONTACT Susan@SusanGable.com

An online date goes bad–and we mean bad–will help come?

PLEASE WELCOME KATY EETEN and her new release A STALKER TO DIE FOR .

Katy: Before I became a published author, I had many unfinished manuscripts saved on my computer just waiting to be finished and fully edited. A Stalker to Die For was one such manuscript. After publishing five contemporary Christian romances, I finally found the motivation and confidence to revisit this romantic suspense (my first attempt at that specific genre). It took longer than I care to admit, but I finally finished it!

For me, adding suspense to a romance is easier said than done. I admire those authors that can weave intense scenes and plot twists so naturally into their writing. To put someone on the edge of their seat through the written word alone takes incredible talent. I don’t claim to have that level of talent, but A Stalker to Die For takes readers through a variety of emotions while walking the line between romance, faith, and thrills. This book just released on April 10 and is available on Amazon. I hope you check it out and enjoy!

OUR STORY:

Ashley Morris thought the worst part of online dating was awkward small talk. She was wrong.

After one disastrous date, a man named Nick won’t take no for an answer. His calls and texts escalate into threats, break-ins, and a terror that shadows her every move. Desperate for safety, Ashley hires Jackson Russo— a talented painter with a kind heart and a protective streak— to renovate her home. But as their friendship deepens into something more, Nick’s obsession turns deadly.

Caught between a stalker’s rage and a love she never expected, Ashley must trust God’s protection and her own instincts to survive. With Jackson by her side, she’ll fight for her life— and for a future worth living.

A faith-filled romantic suspense with a slow-burn, closed-door romance and a guaranteed happily ever after. Perfect for fans of Lynette Eason, Dani Pettrey, and Dee Henderson.

Excerpt:

She glanced over at him, and they exchanged closed-mouth smiles before she leaned her head on his shoulder. A second later, he leaned his head on top of hers. She almost melted in the bliss of the moment.

This felt so right. And as much as she wanted to raise her head and kiss this incredible man, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. Considering this was about as peaceful and cherished and loved as she’d ever felt—could ever hope to feel—she didn’t want to risk ruining it by muddying the innocence with a kiss. Though she certainly wouldn’t turn him away if he was offering up kisses. But she’d be patient. And grateful.

He lifted his head a few moments later, causing her to do the same as she flashed him an inquisitive look. He extended his arm behind her shoulders and pulled her close. “I just thought this might be more comfortable.”

As she leaned into his sturdy chest and closed her eyes, her dreamy sigh was audible. How had she gotten so blessed? God, thank You. As he stroked her upper arm, her cheeks radiated heat. Oh, how she wished time would stand still. Being with Jackson was the highlight of her weekend.

“Sorry again that the drawing idea didn’t work out. Here I thought this would be the most romantic night ever.” He let out a nervous chuckle.

Ashley’s eyes shot open at the absurdity of his words. Did he not consider their present situation romantic? “What do you mean?” She raised her head and turned to face him, their faces mere inches from each other. “This is the most romantic—”

A single loud popping sound pierced the air.

Ashley jumped. “What was that?”

Jackson sat up straight. “I’m not sure, but it sounded like a gunshot.”

A car’s engine revved.

Ashley stiffened.

***

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8agLq6kpUY

Amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Stalker-Die-Katy-Eeten-ebook/dp/B0GS7ND8LC/

Social Media Links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KatyEeten/

X: http://www.x.com/KatyEeten

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/KatyEeten/

Website: https://katyeeten.wordpress.com

About the Author:

When she was a kid, Katy Eeten filled notebooks and binders with poems and short stories. As an adult, she turned that love for the written word into Christian fiction. Between contemporary Christian romance novels and short, sweet Christmas novellas, she loves the feeling of creating characters, scenes, and plots that readers will enjoy.

She works full time in the corporate world, but she tries to find time for her passions—which include writing, reading, taking walks, playing board games, baking, and spending time with her family. She lives in southeast Wisconsin with her husband and their two teenage sons.

Ancient Chinese secrets lead to spice in the kitchen

In Praise of Nerds by LISABET SARAI

Since I joined the romance authors community, I’ve heard a lot about alpha heroes. Rugged but handsome features, broad shoulders, chiseled pectorals, powerful thighs that naturally invite musings about what lies sheltered between them – attributes like these apparently constitute the romance ideal. Our hero should also be physically strong, courageous, and generally the dominant type, though some sensitivity or a shameful secret will not be taken amiss. It helps, apparently, if the guy is also wealthy, suave and well-dressed.

Well, I don’t completely buy it. I mean, a nice bod and a pretty face are not to be sneezed at. But they’re not enough. Call me perverse, but I find intelligence to be the most essential aspect of a sexy hero. Furthermore, I’m willing to accept less than stellar physical qualities if my hero is a clever, imaginative, horny genius who can figure out how to get his heroine out of sticky situations and who understands what truly turns her on.

So I’ve got a thing for nerds. I was hopelessly in love with Mr. Spock. Near the top of my sexy, romantic movie list is “Earth Girls are Easy”, featuring gangly, geeky Jeff Goldblum as a brilliant alien. It’s fairly easy to understand why I feel this way. Growing up, I was the egghead, the bookworm, the too-smart girl whom everyone made fun of. The only guys who could deal with me were the ones who were at least as smart as I was. They weren’t on the football squad; they weren’t voted Best Looking or Most Popular. But they had that something that could start my motors. It was intoxicating, yes, arousing, to have a conversation with some of these guys, especially when I got out of high school and into college. We understood each other, and I began to discover that despite their definite nerdish qualities, they were enthusiastic and innovative when it came to sex.

Actually, research has shown that in defiance of their public image as socially challenged losers, nerds are more successful than the general population in finding mates, staying with them, and producing children. Of course, that is not necessarily going to endear them to romance readers, but it’s something to consider.

Not all the heroes that I create are nerds, but many have some nerdish qualities. Harry Sanbourne in Her Secret Ingredient is a classic example. He’s fashion-challenged, with unruly, overlong hair. Seriously near-sighted, he wears clunky, dark-framed glasses. He’s easy going and informal, without a sophisticated bone in his body – a body that looks pretty ordinary in his baggy jeans and out-of-shape sweaters.

Once those clothes are off, though, Harry turns out to be an exceptionally talented and considerate lover. And unlike the suave and impeccably groomed master chef (and apparent alpha), Etienne Duvalier, Harry has an intuitive understanding of what Emily needs.

Stir in a pinch to stir up his passion.

When the Tastes of France food channel offers Mei Lee “Emily” Wong a series of guest spots, she jumps at the opportunity to take her culinary career to a whole new level. Ultimately, she wants a show of her own, but first she has to prove herself to Michelin-starred network founder and effective dictator, Etienne Duvalier. A legend in the world of classic French cuisine as well as a domineering perfectionist, Etienne is skeptical about the culinary abilities of a woman from Hong Kong. To make things more difficult, the master chef is also so gorgeous that Emily can’t help being attracted to him.

Emily tries to solve both problems by spiking her luscious profiteroles with an ancient Oriental aphrodisiac. Unfortunately, Harry Sanborne, the low-key, bespectacled producer for Emily’s show, samples the delicacies she intends for Etienne’s consumption. His powerful reaction to her secret ingredient comes as a pleasant surprise to them both. Harry turns out to be far more impressive in bed than on the set. However, he can’t do nearly as much to advance her ambitions as Etienne. Emily tries once more to tempt the exacting Monsieur Duvalier with her special cooking as well as her feminine charms. The outrageous results threaten to end her TV career forever—until Harry steps in to save her reputation and claim her heart.

Buy Links

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G6X5D959

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0G6X5D959

Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1923881

Barnes and Noble – https://barnesandnoble.com/w/her-secret-ingredient-lisabet-sarai

/1118070571

Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/her-secret-ingredient-3

Apple Books – https://books.apple.com/us/book/her-secret-ingredient/id6756538064

Universal Book Link – https://books2read.com/u/mdkrAw

Add on Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/245242009-her-secret-ingredient

Add on BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/books/her-secret-ingredient-by-lisabet-sarai-2025-12-21

Review Quotes

Her Secret Ingredient was a great short story. I loved the unique plot, the realistically drawn characters and the writing style. ~Lucy Felthouse, Goodreads

I’ve always been a sucker for books set in the kitchen, and even as outlandishly over the top as this one is, it was a lot of fun…lighthearted and silly and sinfully sexy. ~ Steph, The Romance Reviews

EXCERPT:

“Here we are. Try a couple of these and let me know what you think.” I positioned the platter so that the augmented tidbits were within Etienne’s easy reach. He was sitting on one of the stools in front of the counter. His thigh muscles strained against the black leather of his pants. A lock of hair had overcome the gel to settle on his high forehead. His eyes sparkled, ocean-blue in this light. He looked good enough to eat—highly appropriate for a cooking show.

“Thank you. They look exquisite.” He positively oozed charm as he picked up a pastry round with his finger and thumb and placed it upon his tongue. I imagined all the women watching the show, eyes glued to his every sensual move.

“Oh, Mei Lee! These taste even better than they look!” He sipped his wine, then popped another pissaladière into his mouth and chewed with obvious enthusiasm.

“You’ll put the recipe on the channel website, won’t you?” He turned to the camera. “Ah, mes amis, this simple little dish provides a glorious mixture of flavors. And quite a straightforward process, I guarantee. Any one of you can make these in your own kitchen.”

I helped myself to a pissaladière of my own, carefully choosing from the unadulterated side of the tray. They were good—the pastry light and crisp as spun cloud, the topping complex and savory, thyme, garlic and pepper lingering on the tongue long after swallowing. I took a second hors d’oeuvres. Etienne gobbled down two more, licking his long, elegant fingers after each one. The audience must be dying, watching that pink tongue clean away every crumb of pastry, every fragment of olive. I nursed my burgundy and smiled for the camera as he consumed a fifth pissaladière. Low-level lust hummed through me, too, though I’d been careful this time to avoid ingesting any of the aphrodisiac.

He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and drained his wine glass. “Ms. Wong—” he began. A wild light blazed in his face. “I want to ask your pardon—I want—oh, please…” The smooth, urbane voice sounded confused, ravaged by uncertainty. What was going on?

Etienne slipped from the stool to the floor and knelt at my feet. The next thing I knew, he was pressing his lips to the gilt leather of my high-heeled shoes. “Ms. Wong—Mistress Wong—please, let me serve you…”

“Etienne? Monsieur Duvalier? What are you doing?”

He trailed kisses up the inside of my ankle. “I adore you, Mistress.”

“Etienne!” I snatched my foot away in alarm. He gazed up at me, a mix of disappointment and reverence shining in his face. “Stand up. Remember we’re on camera,” I added, sotto voce.

“Yes, yes, but that doesn’t matter now,” he continued in the same crazy vein, though he obeyed my order and rose to his feet. “I am your willing slave. Let me please you, Mistress. Let me suckle your sweet, hard nipples. Raise your skirt and allow me to worship you with my mouth, the way you deserve…”

“Ssh!” I hissed. “Do you want to get us thrown in jail?” I peered through the glare of the lights, trying to signal to someone to stop the transmission. There was no flurry of activity there, however. No one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

“I don’t care, as long as you are satisfied.” He paused a moment, then unknotted his scarlet cravat and handed it to me. He held out his wrists. “Bind me, Mistress, if you wish. Torture me. I’ll bear any amount of pain for you. Test me—test my devotion.”

He had the same rich voice as before, the same handsome features, the same lithe, muscular body—but this was a different man entirely. I searched his face, yearning for the arrogant, self-involved chef who’d been bossing me around half an hour before.

There was no trace of him. Instead, I had to deal with this—this eager, self-effacing slave boy.

I’d created a monster.  

About Lisabet

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.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

Learning from those who’ve lived

WELCOME GUEST AUTHOR ANNE FOWLER!

About the book:

These 55 stories share the collective wisdom of these women learned from life. Ms. Fowler recommends this book for book clubs, and in senior living facilities, and is willing to do ZOOM meetings with the clubs to discuss all the delightful tales.

ABOUT THE EDITOR:

Anne Fowler, only child of Audrey and Stewart Hamilton, was raised in Toronto where she attended Leaside High School and Toronto Western Hospital School of Nursing. In 1962 American Airlines beckoned her to Dallas, Texas and life in the sky as a flight attendant. Twice divorced, Anne first married a young minister from Louisiana and then long-time best friend Dr. Bob Fowler of Toronto. They raised a daughter and son who later produced a grandson and granddaughter. In 2001, Anne retired, closed her company, Hamilton Enterprises, and left behind a thirty year career in Human Resources. She relocated to El Progreso, Honduras to volunteer at a clinic where care is provided for patients who lack the funds to be treated elsewhere. During this time, Anne developed the Visiting Doctor program for international ophthalmologists, started the Healthy Living Education project in local elementary schools, and helped with a variety of clinic and community activities. In 2006, after purchasing property in the small north coast village of El Porvenir, she built Hamilton Benest House, a home providing accommodation for visiting dentists, doctors, teachers, and other volunteers. Her major program in 2021 is Phase Two of the Healthy Living Program. This annual dental program, conducted by two Canadian dental teams, provides dental care for over 1,000 elementary school students in the area. Anne’s programs continue to thrive and she has continued to develop community initiatives designed to improve the lives of Hondurans. Anne divides her year between El Porvenir and her Haliburton cottage north of Toronto. https://anne.honduranhope.net/

REVIEWS FOR THE TRUTHS WE’VE CARRIED:

 I just finished this book. The stories were great, happening to both ordinary and extraordinary folks and often occurring around world or national events and involving brushes with famous people. I read all of the stories in one sitting on a very cold day in the Midwest, a good day to snuggle up and devour a book.

The Truths We’ve Carried is the perfect book for readers who say “I’m too busy to read.” A fascinating collection of true stories recounted by the women who experienced the events. However, I dare you to stop reading after one or two of them! One evening I picked up the book and started reading, thinking, I’ll just read a couple of stories. It was after midnight when I finished the book! Well done ladies.”

I read The Truths We’ve Carried…some tears, some smiles…and have talked about the book with others. A wonderful idea! An outlet for women to vent.”

How 30 years practicing law fuels a novelist’s career, even if you’re not John Grisham

What huge irony–after 30 years of being a divorce lawyer, now I write romance novels.

 Am I trying to atone for all those homes I “wrecked?”

            Not really. The writing actually came first. I wrote my first full-length novel at 14, a dark time travel Gothic about a girl from the present who appeared as a governess in the past, yada, yada. It was pretty terrible. I wrote two more before I got out of college. Not great, but I’d learned a few things. I became a journalist and worked at a newspaper in deep South Florida for five years or so, so I wrote a lot more, and learned a few more things.

            Then I went to law school. A single mom of two girls under 5, I had my work cut out for me, and the writing went by the wayside. Then the law practice, hours and hours each week to keep those girls in shoes.

            But finally, I got comfortable in my mid-40s, remarried, with a new family, and I thought I’d try my hand at it again. I came up with three stories, all starring a heroine who lived and worked as an attorney in the nearest big city, Pittsburgh. The first became CONVICTION OF THE HEART, the second, SECOND CHANCES, and the third, VOODOO DREAMS: the Pittsburgh Lady Lawyer Series.  

            SECOND CHANCES tells the story of Inessa Regan, a 42-year-old attorney who is fired from her job as a long-time associate working divorce cases at a small firm. This is not because of anything she’s done, but because the wife of one of the partners is threatened by any female attorney in her husband’s office, even one with thick thighs who consoles herself with Ben and Jerry’s—a lot. Suddenly on her own, she doesn’t know what to do or how to begin again.

            When her well-meaning neighbor brings her a client to make a will, a young veteran of the Iraq War. Inessa is desperate for the income, so she says yes. But Kurt Lowdon brings her a lot more than the $75 the paperwork costs. His courage and confidence in her helps her move past the devastating hit her life has taken, and she moves on to become a solo practitioner.

            She also falls in love with him, which becomes a risky business as secrets from his past threaten them both.

    BLURB:

When Inessa Regan gets a pink slip, laid off from her law firm at the age of 42, without prospects she’s sure her life is over. She hides from the world, until her neighbor brings her a client, a young Iraq war veteran dying of cancer.

Kurt Lowdon only wants to make sure his affairs are in order should the worst happen, but meeting Inessa gives him encouragement on the road to recovery. His quest to help her realize her self-worth leads them into dangers they never expected, as horrors from the war and long-hidden family secrets come back to haunt them.

Book trailer here

Buy now! on Amazon     Barnes and Noble     https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/second-chances-2

Excerpt:

Inessa had visited the Pittsburgh IKEA store half a dozen times before, addicted to the simple, classic furniture designs and colorful décor items, but none of those experiences had ever been like this.

Perhaps the difference was because Kurt was a man, maybe it was the purpose of the visit, but she had fun. Negotiating the departments along the store’s one-way dictated path became an adventure different from any she’d had with a girlfriend.

The things that attracted Kurt’s attention! Forget the Swedish meatballs. He raved about a cushy pillow in shades of spring green and chocolate. He bought new towels in bright red and orange. Every gadget fascinated him, and he dug a sample out of the bins to test each one.

When they passed one bedroom set-up, the downy beige and green comforter was softly rumpled, as if the owner had just climbed out seconds before. “That looks comfortable.” he exclaimed, and he scrambled right in.

“Kurt!” She’d looked around, mortified. Several young couples passing by in madras Dockers and khakis stopped to stare; some smiled.

“What? This is a display bed. You’re supposed to try it out. Come on.” He held up the covers for her to join him. The mischievous expression on his face broke her up, embarrassed as she was.
“I don’t think so. You rest. I’ll be looking at office supplies.”

“Spoilsport. No one will care if you romp in the bedroom department at IKEA. Look, now everyone else is, too.” He gestured to several displays around them as other customers climbed onto neighboring beds, laughing and teasing each other. When she still held back, he affected a pout and pushed himself out, smoothing the bedspread again. “All right. Business first. Let’s go.”

Over the next couple of hours and the seeming miles of displays, he thoughtfully helped her select what she needed—a desk, comfortable chairs for her consulting clients, bookshelves for her legal research materials—but also remained playful. He had to experiment with every one of the wheeled desk chairs, spinning them around until he found the one with the least traction. “Try this one. It’s better than Kennywood.”

She laughed and checked the growing list of items on the small screen of her Blackberry, and the total she’d be spending. The thought of invading her cushion money sent little electric quivers through her midsection, but now that she was committed to this, it had to be done. “I think that does it.”

“Pick-up downstairs.”

They went down to the first floor and traversed the long rows of cardboard boxes, loading the ones they’d chosen onto a flatbed cart. He grabbed a new desktop set in green and blue. “You need this.”

“I need it? For what?”

“Just for fun.”

“Fun? It’s for work. Work’s not about fun.”

“Every moment should be about fun, counselor. Every moment.”

       BIO AND SOCIAL MEDIA

Website   https://wordpress.com/page/alana-lorens.com/21

Facebook    https://www.facebook.com/AlanaLorens/

Goodreads   https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4829967.Alana_Lorens

Amazon Author Page  https://www.amazon.com/Alana-Lorens/e/B005GE0WBC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alana-lorens

Email:  contact@alana-lorens.com

Author Bio:  Alana Lorens has been a published writer for more than forty years. Currently a resident of Asheville, North Carolina, she loves her time in the smoky Blue Ridge mountains. One of her novellas, THAT GIRL’S THE ONE I LOVE, is set in the city of Asheville during the old Bele Chere festival. She lives with her daughter, who is the youngest of her seven children, two crotchety old cats, and five kittens of various ages.

Another winner mystery from M.S. Spencer!

Thanks so much Alana, for allowing me to tell your readers about my new mystery, Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders. I hope they enjoy the excerpt and long to read more!

Blurb

When Sophie Childress discovers a letter written in 1920 by the witness to a murder, she enlists Noah Pennyman—owner of the house where it took place—to investigate. Who was the victim? What did the killer do with the body—not to mention a carpetbag full of money? Together they expose a complex web of family ties and lies that has persisted through four generations in the historic village of Marmion Grove. When two more corpses are unearthed, Noah and Sophie are faced with too many victims and not enough murderers.

Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders

Mystery, cozy

The Wild Rose Press, June 11, 2025

390 pp; 89,900 words
Ebook: $5.99; Print $22.99
Theme(s): Small Town, Mystery, Humorous/Comedy, Cozy Mystery
Railroad Ties: the Marmion Grove Murders opens with the discovery of a letter from a witness to a murder. The letter fell out of a copy of Agatha Christie’s first published book, The Mysterious Affair at Styles. The heroine, Sophie Childress, volunteers for the Vassar Book Sale. Now closed down, for forty years it was one of the largest and most successful used book sales in the country, raking in an average of $100,000 for scholarships. Sophie is learning to price rare books, so she recognizes the  Christie volume as a first edition, and discovers that the first printing of the first edition was actually in New York, and not London. The famous London edition of her book was released a full year after the New York one.

The letter was written in 1920, the same year as the New York release, sending Sophie and her hero, Noah, on a search for possible connections between the two events.

Excerpt: The Letter

“What’s this?” She lifted out a heavy polyethylene bag. She knew from Eudora’s instruction that the bag was archival quality. Now why was this one protected when the others weren’t? She slid the book out. “Agatha Christie. The Mysterious Affair at Styles.” Christies were a dime a dozen. Most of her works had millions of copies in print. It was unlikely this was valuable, even though it was a hardback. Maybe it was a gift. There could be an inscription or note inside. She checked the flyleaf. Nothing. She turned to the copyright page. “First edition, first printing.” Okay. New York: John Lane Publishing Company, 1920. Wait a minute. She set it down, puzzled. New York? Christie’s books were published in England. It must be the first American edition. Still, sometimes those fetched surprisingly good prices. Another thing to research at the center. As she reinserted it in its plastic bag, an envelope fell out. Yellowed and stained, it was addressed to Constable Bustwick, Montgomery County Police. No return address or stamp. She opened it.

Inside was a scrap of butcher’s brown wrapping paper. It’s a letter. The handwriting was shaky. An older person? A child? Though the date was obscured by a streak of dried ink, she could make out “April” and “1920.” The same year the book was published. She sat down to read.

Dear Constable Bustwick,

I write to you in great distress. I believe I may have witnessed a horrible act. However, I do not know if it was truly a crime, so I am begging you to investigate quietly. If I speak out publicly, I risk my position.

The event occurred two nights ago. The master and mistress had retired. I had closed up the house and returned to my room when a thunderstorm barreled through. For a time the thunder was quite loud. Lightning struck one of our cherry trees with a great CRACK. I had finally dozed off when a noise outside woke me. It was perhaps an hour past midnight. We have had problems with raccoons in the garbage pit lately, so I took my broom and went out to frighten the creatures off. It was very dark after the storm, with only the feeble light from the hitching post lantern to see by. A figure came around the side of the carriage house. He had a large bundle slung over his shoulder. Mr. Constable, I think it was a body! As I watched, he toppled it into the back seat of an automobile parked on the gravel. When he tried to close the door, a man’s hat fell out. He picked the hat up, threw it inside, and drove away.

I was terrified, but the master had left strict orders not to disturb them, so I went back to my quarters. The next morning the master and mistress had breakfast as usual. Neither mentioned a late night visitor. The stable held only their Ford Model T and the carriage. The car in the driveway had been much larger and fancier. I remember the lamplight glinting on a chrome hood ornament that resembled a flying bird.

When the day had almost passed and the master had not altered his normal routine, I began to feel that I’d dreamed the whole thing. Then late that afternoon I was sweeping the carriage house floor and found the glass bottle we keep the rat poison in. It lay in the floor drain, shattered. Constable Bustwick, I do not know if the broken bottle has anything to do with the body, but I fear it does. I beg you to look into it, but please, please don’t contact my master or mention my name. I pray there is a simple explanation for all this.

Sincerely, Agnes Reilly.

The letter fell out of Sophie’s hand. My God. Did this Agnes really witness a murder? And why didn’t she mail the letter? Did she mean to hand carry it, or perhaps she couldn’t find a stamp? And how did it end up in the book? She sat, fanning herself with the envelope. Hefting the volume, she quickly slipped the letter between its pages and dropped it back in the box.

I have to return to Marmion Grove anyway. I’ll ask Noah about the letter. She was ashamed to realize the thought gave her pleasure

Buy links:

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/railroadties/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Railroad-Ties-Marmion-Grove-Murders-ebook/dp/B0F38Q5HZR

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/railroad-ties-m-s-spencer/1147152800?ean=2940184496733

Apple/IBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/railroad-ties-the-marmion-grove-murders/id6744065960

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/230846616-railroad-ties

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/railroad-ties-the-marmion-grove-murders-by-m-s-spencer

About the Author

Librarian, anthropologist, research assistant, Congressional aide, speechwriter, nonprofit director—M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents and holds degrees in Anthropology, Middle East Studies, and Library Science. In June 2025 she will have published eighteen mystery or romantic suspense novels. She has two children, an exuberant granddaughter, and currently divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Social media links:

Blog: https://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencermysteries

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor

GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/m-s-spencer

Shepherd: https://shepherd.com/search/author/21204

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B002ZOEUC8

New Graphics!

Have you read these? Check out this recent review of CRUEL CHARADE:

Cruel Charade — One of the best books I’ve read in a looong time!

I came across your book Cruel Charade and man… the way you pulled me into Bet’s descent was brutal in the best way possible. It’s raw, emotional, claustrophobic in all the right places — and you layered the mystery with just enough venom that I had to know what was coming next. The tension didn’t let up for a second.

The way you wrote her pain — physical, emotional, psychological — it wasn’t just there, it lingered. Like smoke after a fire. And the Everglades scene? That felt like waking up in a nightmare with no map out.

You didn’t go for cheap drama — you made it earn its weight. And damn, you made me feel every step she took trying to climb back out.

It’s been a while since I got that can’t-put-this-book-down feeling. Thank you!!!

The depth, the emotion, the rhythm of the story… it was all so vivid, it practically directed itself in my head.

Thanks so much, James Timothy!

He was so inspired, he even made a video script:

CINEMATIC TRAILER SCRIPT: Cruel Charade by Alana Lorens


[0:00 – 0:10]
 [Dark swamp visuals. A flickering fire glows in the distance. Low rumble of thunder. Slow fade-in of smoke rising from a burned car.]
 NARRATOR (calm, haunting):
 May 16th, 1996. The Everglades. Midnight.
 One woman wakes up next to a corpse…
 …and can’t remember how she got there.


[0:11 – 0:22]
 [Visuals: A woman stumbling through the swamp, barefoot, dazed. A flash of city lights. A courtroom fades in. A divorce decree lands on a desk.]
 NARRATOR:
 Bet Lenard had already lost everything—her career, her family, her health.
 But someone decided that wasn’t enough.


[0:23 – 0:35]
 [Quick cuts: a man screaming in a courtroom, a photo of her children ripped in half, bottles of pills scattered on the floor.]
 NARRATOR:
 Now she’s being framed for a murder she doesn’t remember…and every person in her life might want her dead.


[0:36 – 0:47]
 [Visuals: A therapist’s office. Bet sits on a couch, broken. The room flickers to scenes of shadows following her, flashing sirens, a judge slamming a gavel.]
 NARRATOR:
 Her only anchor is the voice of her therapist— …but even sanity comes with a price.


[0:48 – 1:00]
 [Montage: A man loading a gun. A car speeding through rain. Bet clutching her chest, staring at old photos. A courtroom sketch burns in flames.]
 NARRATOR:
 Was it her bitter ex-husband?
 A dangerous client?
 A jealous friend’s revenge?
 Or someone hiding behind a badge?


[1:01 – 1:15]
 [Visuals: Bet standing at the edge of a cliff at dawn. Flashbacks overlap: gunshots, betrayal, tears. Slow-motion: a key slips from her hand.]
 NARRATOR:
 Every clue pulls her deeper into a charade of lies,  …and there’s no escape unless she finds the truth— before it finds her.


[1:16 – 1:30]
 [Final scene: Bet walks through a dark hallway. Light breaks in at the end. Slow fade to black. Book cover appears.]
 NARRATOR:
 Cruel Charade by Alana Lorens.
 A psychological descent into survival, suspicion… and the savage price of truth.
 AVAILABLE NOW.

Touching the hand of God through watching birds

Janet on one of her many travels!

Please welcome my friend and sister writer, Janet Pierce!

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.

I live in the eastern suburbs of Pittsburgh, PA with my husband. Occasionally our granddog Norman comes for a visit, with or without my grandsons. I have two sons, one lives in Cranberry, north of Pittsburgh with his wife and a mini-me, my granddaughter. My other son lives in the western suburbs of Pittsburgh with his wife, my two grandsons and Norman, the wonder dog- as my husband calls him.

Are you a coffee fiend, or do you have another “addiction” you must have on your desk at all times?

 I love coffee but it is not always at my desk. I may have water or tea, especially if it’s hot out or I have to do some talking with my critique groups.

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?

That’s an interesting question. I have written many different types of discourse. My very first attempt was when I was about 13. I was bored at our summer cottage after reading all the books I had brought with me, so I wrote The Carson Twins Mysteries- 2 of them. My twin sister illustrated them. They tell you to write what you know- so I wrote about twin sisters, used settings I was familiar with and mysteries which I loved to read at the time.

Years later, after getting my undergrad degree in Elementary Education and French, I couldn’t get a job in education right away. So, I wrote 2 children’s books for my sons, not published but now works in progress. Then I wrote and put on murder mysteries with my company Murder Most Mysterious. But after a year or two I found I did not like putting them on, I preferred to write them. So, I stopped that. While I was doing these things, I had my two sons. They even helped with the shows on occasion. Imagine having an 8- and 10-year-old in the cast. I was also writing and editing a weekly newspaper at the time. I enjoyed it but the money wasn’t very much. I also did free-lance feature stories for the Tribune Review during that time. I met a lot of interesting people for those stories. I loved doing the historical stories of people who had family members who did unusual things. As for myself I got a chance to go on a wagon train ride and found it fascinating. I rode in a surrey, a farm wagon and a Conestoga. I was in the surrey going up alongside a highway when a tornado went through the area. The sky darkened and wind howled. The horses formed a circle and turned inward. Luckily it did not come close to us.

Then as my writing job was being phased out at the newspaper, I managed to get a part-time teaching job. I taught English as a Second Language part-time while writing and then having to go to grad school to keep my teaching certificate. I had created my own double degree as an undergrad at Slippery Rock University and I ended up doing the same thing 28 years later at the University of Pittsburgh.

Eventually the reporting job ended, and I taught full-time. When PA said ESL teachers had to get an ESL certification, I was one of the few teachers who were able to get my certification through the creation of a work portfolio. I ended up teaching classes and developing online classes for the educating entities at the time. That led to my first self-published book- Teaching English Learners-Cultural Implications, Communications, Connections, and Curriculum. I also traveled up and down western PA teaching school district personnel how to create an ESL curriculum. In the 2000s I felt my job was threatened when another woman in my school district went back to school to get her ESL doctorate. So, I applied, was accepted and within 5 years, while teaching full-time, I got my PhD in English- Composition and TESOL. I actually graduated ahead of that teacher and was the oldest and first to finish in my cohort. I published articles in newsletters, and TESOL journals as well as having a chapter in one of their books- Revitalizing a Curriculum for School-Age Learners. I continued teaching until 2018 when I retired and decided to return to my first love- writing fiction. Now I am learning  another type of discourse.  I love history and researching so I use that in my fiction writing. I also love to watch birds at my bird feeders as I read or listen to my Bible.

Tell us about your most recent publication/whichever book you’d like to talk about today? 

My most recent publication is “Observations at the Bird Feeder, published the end of February.

image.jpeg

available  on Amazon https://a.co/d/0uVwo08

What inspired you to write this story? What interesting thing did you learn or research to write it that you didn’t know before?
I enjoy watching the birds that come to my bird feeder as I eat my breakfast and either listen to the Bible or read it. I started writing down my observations and how their actions reminded me of my own or other peoples’ reactions to things and then thought- “What does God think or say about this?” Having the app on my phone I was able to get key words and their scriptural basis as I wrote. I learned a lot of information about birds, and I learned a lot of scriptures. I was blessed to see these actions through both my eyes and the eyes of God as He talks in scriptures.

What’s your favorite thing about the book featured here today?

I am very pleased at how the book turned out, the pictures worked well and everything fell into place once I started getting it ready for publication.

Any special memories you have in the creation of it?

First of all, I never thought of these devotions as a book. It started as just a way to practice my writing skills, learn about birds and God. In one of my critique groups, I submitted a couple of them for our session and a woman told me, “You should get these published.” I asked the others what they thought. Now some of these woman were not overtly Christian and I didn’t even know if or what they believed so when they concurred, it was an Ah Ha moment. Of course, when I submitted the work to a couple of publishers, I was told it was too niche. That did not deter me. I finally decided to self-publish it. It is going well so far and I know a little bit about marketing (did I tell you I also worked in advertising for a very short time? ) but I try to remember, this book and the sales are my and my husband’s way of outreach, to others about how God is with us in all things and ways.

What do you most like about writing? I like imagining, and creating the stories, the writing and the research to learn more. Least like? Maybe doing the marketing, although I don’t hate it, it’s just that once more I have a lot to learn.

When did you first know you wanted to be an author? Well, I’ve always had something to say and I like writing, it is one thing I’ve always done well, albeit after learning a bit of how to write in a particular genre.

Do you belong to any writing groups?

Yes, I belong to Pennwriters, and to St. David Christian Writers.

Are there any writing websites you find particularly useful?

I have a few sites. I get links for Jane Friedman, Roseanna White, Reedsy, Authors Publish, Thomas Umstadt, and Writers Helping Writers.

Is there any special music you like to listen to while writing?

No, I really like silence, so I can get into my thoughts and just write with no distractions. 

How does it inspire you? It doesn’t when I am actually writing.

On my walks and driving the car, yes, Christian music does inspire me. I have written songs and performed them as I played guitar in my younger days. I still sing, but arthritis keeps me from playing guitar.

Do you belong to a critique group? What do you find most valuable about the experience? Yes, I belong to 2 critique groups- both online. I attend one that has helped me learn a lot about writing- POV, head-hopping, deepening tension are just a few of the things I’ve learned. I also run an online group that has members who have ebbed and flowed in and out from time to time. I wouldn’t mind running another one for Christian writers. I love doing it online too.

I drive to a Panera near me to meet with 3 other women who are Pennwriters and we discuss what we are doing, sharing pitfalls and encouragements.

To encourage those still on the path, tell us a little about your path to publication. Don’t give up. Join a critique group, read and learn about writing.  You can ALWAYS learn. Pray a lot and network. This is the advice I would give to any writer.

My path has been a winding, meandering one, over many years. I’ve had to be patient and be persistent.

How many books have you published? I self-published. My first one.-

image.jpeg

How many books did you write before selling one? What do you think was the key to selling that first book? When I designed the ESL courses for the state of Pennsylvania, I used the book for several of the classes. So they had to order and use it. Since there were no other books like mine, it was necessary. I have sold of 1,200 books in the past 20 years.

What are you writing now? I am currently working on my historical inspirational saga– Seasons: The Trevellian Family Saga.  There are to be 4 books in it. My agent is currently shopping the first one- Helena’s Autumn to publishers.

I also have an idea for another devotional. A pictoral book of the various things you see that reflect the wonder of God’s world on walks and what he has to say about them. The working title is- Walking in Wonder.

 What’s next for you—will you be making personal appearances anywhere our readers can find you? Yes. I may be doing a book crawl in Pittsburgh mid-May (details still to be worked out); I will be presenting at the Pennwriter’s Conference in Pittsburgh May 16-18th, and St. David Christian Writers in Meadville, PA  June 17-22ndat the Ohio Heritage Festival in Westerville Ohio August 16th, and a book signing August 24 at the Carpenter Loghouse in Boyce Park, Plum Borough, PA. I will also be at the Pennwriters Area 1 Road Trip in October 3-5.

Anything else you would like to add?

It has been an honor to talk with you and thanks for this opportunity.

You and everyone can reach me on my blog- https://www.janetpierceswritingcafe.com

And my author page on face book- https://www.facebook.com/JanetPierceAuthor

And on Instagram- https://www.instagram.com/jpierce494/