Author Speed Dating – Kris Fletcher

Author Speed Dating(1)

I love discovering new authors, so I wanted to my blog to be a place where readers and my author pals could come together. Only we like to do this Speed-Dating style. Check out a new author and her work here every Wednesday, and if the spark is there, you’ll have a match.

This week’s guest: Kris Fletcher

Kris Fletcher pic

 

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

15 Questions

1. Ferrari or Ford F-150?

These would be vehicles, correct?

2. What is your biggest fear as you are writing a story?

Earthquakes, volcanoes, the dead rising from the grave, cats and dogs living together.

3. Name a TV you have either binge-watched or own on DVD.

Galavant. (I believe in you, Tad Cooper! I super believe!)

4. What is the one thing you wish someone else had told you before you published your first book?

Sleep while you can.

5. Rolling Stones or Florida Georgia Line?

I’m more of an Arrogant Worms girl myself.

6. Name the most embarrassing concert you ever attended.

The Osmond Brothers. I was 12, okay?

7. What do you eat for dinner when you’re all alone in the house, and no one has to know about it?

Everything.

8. Name your favorite gift you ever gave to someone else, and what made it special?

The kids and I made a Father’s Day slideshow for my husband once, talking about the things the kids had learned from him. It made him cry. Total win.

9. What is one of the biggest risks you’ve taken as a writer?

Sitting down at that damned computer day after day.

10. Kurt Vonnegut or J.K. Rowling?

Oh please. I can’t even PRONOUNCE Vonnegut.

11. What are your favorite activities outside writing?

I’m quite fond of sleeping. Breathing is right up there, too.

12. How many books have you published, and how many had you written before you thought of yourself as a successful writer?

Published: (counts on fingers) 5 novels, 1 novella releasing next month, many more in the pipeline. There is no success yet. There is only Zuul.

[Editor’s note: Host Dana had to look that one up. Zuul the Gatekeeper of Gozer is a demigod who possessed Dana Barrett (aka Sigourney Weaver in “Ghostbusters.” You learn something new every day.]

13.  What would you choose as your super power, and what would you do with it?

I could seriously go for one of those Time Turners they use in Harry Potter.

14.   In which genres and sub-genres are you published, and which was the hardest and easiest to write?

All my books are the equivalent of family sitcoms. The hardest one to write is always the one in progress. The easiest is always the one I just finished.

15. Kardashians. Yes or no?

Yes, but only for as long as it takes me to get the name of their publicist.

***

BridesmaidBachelor

The Bridesmaid and the Bachelor

By Kris Fletcher

 

 

Chapter One

Kyrie Elias walked into the gaily decorated Bellagio function room, scanned the space filled with folks she was charged with deceiving, and decided the only sensible place to start was the bar.

She wove her way through the room, smiling politely at all she passed—the other attendants for the impending Boyle-Sitka nuptials. Her sister had assured her it would be easy to carry out this charade. The bride is the only one I know really well, Paige had said on the phone. You know her well enough to convince her you’re me. And she’ll be too busy to spend much time with anyone, let alone a late game fill-in bridesmaid. You can pretend to be me with no problem.

Right. Paige could pull this off with no problem. Kyrie was pretty sure she was going to spend the next three days carrying a paper bag in her purse so she would have it handy when she started hyperventilating.

She squeezed between some husky shoulders—all the groomsmen, according to Paige, were the groom’s former college football teammates—and smiled at the bartender, who stopped midway through pouring a glass of wine to nod at her.

“I’ll have a glass of white—”

No. If she was going to carry off this bridesmaid-in-disguise thing, she was going to need to do more than wear Paige’s short skirts.

“On second thought, make that a Brazen Mojito. Thanks.”

The bartender nodded and tossed ingredients into a small blender. Kyrie turned to survey the rest of the guests, trying to get a feel for the land before she dove in.

She would have pegged Siobhan as the bride even without having met her a few times. The little silver hair band with a short veil attached was a helpful clue. Kyrie would bet a very large amount of the money she no longer had that Siobhan’s hairpiece hadn’t come from one of the tacky tourist shops just off the Strip. And unless she missed her guess, the stones winking out from the silvery half-circle could probably have paid off the debts that had left Kyrie with no choice when Paige proposed this masquerade.

Do this for me, Kir, and I’ll forgive the loan. Totally and completely.

“Miss?” A light touch on her elbow had her turning and accepting her drink. Ew. Paige really needed to switch to something that didn’t look like it was the residue from an industrial accident.

Pretend you’re sampling a new coffee for the shop. That, she knew how to do.

“Over the lips and past the gums.” She took a deep breath, tipped the concoction high, and promptly choked.

But not from the booze.

She stared in horror at the tall, lanky man who had just entered the room. The black haired man now laughing and slapping the back of one of the football players. The man with the bluest eyes she had ever seen, once she had peeled away his tinted glasses and tossed them to the ground two years ago.

Ben Sitka. Brother of the groom. The one man who could blow her entire deception out of the water before it truly began.

She whirled back to face the bar, wishing she’d thought to pack that Emergency Hyperventilation bag before she came to this party. She needed to … crap, what? Running was out of the question.

Stay calm.

Right. She needed to stay calm. Ben hadn’t spotted her, and if he did, so what? It had been almost two years. Her hair was styled like Paige’s; her clothes came from Paige’s closet. He knew she was a twin. All she had to do was act like she’d never met him, introduce herself as Paige, and carry on. She could do this.

Assuming, of course, she could stop herself from turning into a puddle of something hot and needy the moment he spoke to her. Or once she caught a whiff of that soapy-musty-slightly-bookish scent that had lingered in her memory all this time. Or if he touched her.

She really couldn’t let him touch her.

“Need another?”

The bartender’s quiet question made her open her eyes. Ack. She must have closed them when she started remembering. Not a good plan when tracking the one person who could blow her cover.

“I’m good, thanks.” She dredged up a smile. “Still jet lagged, I guess.”

He nodded toward the drink. “Better go slow, then. That thing’ll knock you on your ass faster than you can say, ‘Welcome to Vegas’.”

“You’re right.” Grateful for the excuse, she set the glass on a tray and wiped her damp palms on her skirt. She could wait and hold her breath until Ben noticed her, or she could take matters into her own hands, start mingling, and make her way to him naturally. The way Paige would do it. The way Kyrie had taught herself to draw out her customers.

She could do this.

She tilted her chin, did her best imitation of her sister’s smile—breezy, carefree, I love being with people! —and dove back into the wall of shoulders, aiming for the bride.

Maybe she should have mentioned Ben to Paige when they made this deal. But seriously, who would have believed he would be there? Yes, he was the groom’s brother, but when she had last seen him, he had been on his way to a year in Brazil, then a stint in Antarctica. She was pretty sure that people couldn’t simply hop a flight out of McMurdo Station for a long weekend, even for a family wedding.

Though in a way it was kind of nice to know she wasn’t the only one who’d had her plans yanked out from beneath her since they’d had their little…um….

Damn. Two years since he turned a lonely week at the lake into the Best Vacation Ever, and she still didn’t know what to call what they’d had. But she sure had some great names for the things they had done. Not that she should be thinking about that now, though dear Lord, how could she not?

Kyrie slid into the mass of short dresses and long hair swirling around Siobhan. It didn’t take long.

“Paige!” Siobhan stopped in mid-story and squealed, leaning forward to wrap Kyrie in a giant hug. “You made it! I got so freaked when you said your flight was delayed. I just knew something was going wrong and you wouldn’t be able to make it and oh my God, sweetie, how could I possibly get married without you?”

Thank heaven that seemed to be a rhetorical question. Otherwise, it might have been tempting to remind Siobhan that Paige had only been added to the wedding party after another girl had the nerve to get pregnant.

“Girls, this is Paige. We were roommates in our freshman year at Bowdoin, and we’ve stayed like this ever since.” She linked her arm through Kyrie’s and pulled her close. “Paige, this is Gen and Rachel—I work with them—and ….”

The names went on. Kyrie smiled and nodded and squealed where it seemed appropriate, all the while alternating between listening for a shift in Siobhan’s tone or some sign from Ben. So far, so good. If the rest of the weekend went this smoothly, she’d be golden.

She took an outstretched hand from the second or third Megan of the night, looked into the crowd, and knew she’d been spotted.

She didn’t have to be close to Ben to notice the way he stopped moving, the way he seemed to have taken a deliberate step back even though she could swear he hadn’t actually shifted position. His glasses had slipped partway down his nose and his hand hovered in midair, caught in the act of preparing to push them back into place. Behind those glasses his eyes were round and stunned. His mouth hung open the slightest bit. Honestly, if she weren’t so terrified, she would have to giggle. All he needed was a lab coat and she could slap him on a poster for the World’s Sexiest Absent-Minded Professor.

As it was, she sent silent thanks skyward that she had seen him already and was prepared for this. She made herself meet his gaze. Easy. No worries, no flinching, and oh crap, he was gulping and shoving his glasses back into place as if hoping they would tell him he wasn’t seeing what he was seeing.

Do. Not. React.

She smiled in his general direction – polite, friendly, the kind that could be bestowed on any stranger seen across a crowded room – and turned her attention back to Megan 2.

“I’m sorry, how did you say you know Siobhan?”

“Well, I was at a meeting of the Junior League and they needed people to work on the Black and White Ball, and I wasn’t sure if it was the right job for me because, you know, I’m not very good at organizing things, but then Siobhan leaned over and said ….”

It was almost a relief when she saw Ben heading in her direction. Things might get ugly, but at least they weren’t going to be as boring as Megan 2’s story.

“… we would only have to meet once a month, so that made me think that—”

“Kyrie?”

For one moment, she let herself soak in the wonder in his voice. So many emotions packed into that one tiny utterance, and to know it was for her—not for Paige, not for any of her other sisters, but for her, Kyrie—well, hearing that amazed disbelief both filled her and broke her. Because there was no way she could let him know the truth. No way she could follow through and see what would happen if she were to whirl around and tell him it was her and fall into his arms the way she longed to do.

If she were to come out of this weekend with any hope of keeping her beloved coffee house solvent, she had to get Paige to forgive the start-up loan. Which meant she had to fulfill Paige’s one request: keep Siobhan in the dark as to her true identity. Which meant she had to keep Ben as distant as if he really were down at the Pole.

She steeled herself and turned to him.

“Not Kyrie, sorry.” She smiled with what she hoped was the right amount of resignation and regret. “I’m her sister Paige. Don’t worry. People get us confused all the time.” This would be the point when Paige would flash her dimples, but since they weren’t identical twins—not that most people could tell—Kyrie was, sadly, dimple-less. She had to settle for a tip of the head. “So hello, pleased to meet you, what’s your name, and how do you know Kyrie?”

Confusion and disappointment clouded his face and lodged in her throat. Had he missed her that much? Had he, like she, lain awake at night, remembering their week together, and wondered what if?

 

***

The Bridesmaid and the Bachelor, a Calypso Falls novella, will be released Nov. 15, 2016, from Penguin LLC. It is available for pre-order through these online retailers: Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-A-Million.

***

About Kris

Kris Fletcher writes about small towns, big families, and love that grows despite them. She has a thing for underdogs, which probably explains her lifelong devotion to the Toronto Maple Leafs. Kris shares her central New York home – fondly known as Casa Kitty – with her husband, a few of their many kids, two cats, and a large population of wild killer dust bunnies. You can learn more about Kris, her books, and how much snow is on her deck at www.krisfletcher.com. Also, connect with her on Facebook or Twitter.

 

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Author Speed Dating – Shirley Jump

Author Speed Dating(1)

If there’s one thing I enjoy almost as much as writing books, it’s READING books. I love discovering new authors, too. So I thought my blog would be a perfect place to introduce my authors friends to potential new readers. Only to give it a twist, we’re doing this Speed-Dating style. Check out a new author here every Wednesday, and if the spark is there, you’ll have a match.

This week’s guest: Shirley Jump

 

 

Shirley Jump pic

New Adult Romance

 

 

 

15 Question

1. Ferrari or Ford F-150?

Ferrari all the way!

2. What is your biggest fear as you are writing a story?

That I won’t make the deadline.

3. Name a TV you have either binge-watched or own on DVD.

Breaking Bad.

4. What is the one thing you wish someone else had told you before you published your first book?

That the road afterwards is just as rocky and difficult as before you got published; the only difference is now they pay you.

5. Rolling Stones or Florida Georgia Line?

Hmmm…I guess Florida Georgia Line. I’m more a pop-type girl.

6. Name the most embarrassing concert you ever attended?

James Taylor.

7. What do you eat for dinner when you’re all alone in the house, and no one has to know about it?

A bag of popcorn.

8. Name your favorite gift you ever gave to someone else, and what made it special?

I made a book of my mom’s recipes and pictures from when we were kids for my brother and me for Christmas. We each have them on stands in our kitchens.

9. What is one of the biggest risks you’ve taken as a writer?

Pitching my first article to a newspaper when I was 11.

10. Kurt Vonnegut or J.K. Rowling?

Kurt Vonnegut because he makes me think when I read him.

11. What are your favorite activities outside writing?

I do triathlons, so running, biking and swimming.

12. How many books have you published, and how many had you written before you thought of yourself as a successful writer?

60+ published. And I don’t know if you ever truly think of yourself as successful. I’m always striving to be better, do more.

13. What would you choose as your super power, and what would you do with it?

Lightning speed so I could get everything done and have time with my loved ones.

14. In which genres and sub-genres are you published, and which was the hardest and easiest to write?

Romance, YA, and women’s fiction. Women’s fiction is the hardest because it’s more involved, but the other two are fun.

15. Kardashians. Yes or no?

Good God…NO. I’d rather watch paint dry ;-).

 

***

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000446_00066]

Can’t Get Over You

By Shirley Jump

ONE

Secrets were the hardest thing to keep on an island, especially one the size of Fortune’s Island. Jillian Matheson had lived there pretty much all her life, growing up among the small population that stubbornly hung on through the brutal Cape Cod Bay winters. She’d gone to a school that was run out of a converted house, reading Big Red and learning the Pythagorean Theorem alongside the same couple dozen kids from kindergarten to graduation.

In the summer, the population of Fortune’s Island swelled, like a pregnant spider about to deliver thousands of beach-hungry babies. As soon as Labor Day drew to a close, the island emptied out, and life settled down again. After Jillian passed the craziness of her early twenties and grew up a little—okay, a lot—she found she craved the quiet, the…space. The miles of empty beach, the lazy shopping trips with shopkeepers more than happy to pass the time talking about the weather, the late mornings snuggled under the blankets while the wind blew angry breath.

It was also easier to find a quiet place to be alone, which was what had brought Jillian to the rocky outcropping at the southern end of the island today. The beach there tapered down to a smattering of sand, where sharp-edged rocks married each other in topsy-turvy angles. Jillian knew, if she picked her way a few feet further down, she could find one large flat rock, as big as a picnic table, and high enough that the incoming tide never did much more than lick the underside of the stone.

She had spread out a blanket, then settled her acoustic guitar across her waist. She’d bought the Ibanez secondhand in a shop ten years ago, with her first official paycheck from The Love Shack, the cozy seaside restaurant her parents owned. Jillian spent hours on this rock, teaching herself how to read music, how to pick out the notes, and then finally, strumming snippets of songs. It had taken almost a year of these stolen moments against the rocky wall before Jillian had taught herself to play “Hotel California.”

She’d moved through the entire Eagles catalog, then the Beatles, then a little Led, before she got the itch to write her own songs. The first few had been the typical unrequited love/misunderstood teen bullshit most high schoolers wrote about. Like Taylor Swift with a bad attitude. But now, her music had evolved, becoming something that filled her soul, exposed the nooks and crannies that she kept hidden from the world.

This summer, she’d finally gotten serious about her dreams and, in the space of a few days, turned her life upside down and inside out. She’d broken up with Zach, her fiancé, and fired off a college application. For the past month now, she’d been taking the ferry over to Boston three mornings a week to study contemporary music composition at the Boston Conservatory. Before work, she’d steal away to her space under the rock to practice her own songs and study for her classes in music history and theory.

Music was her secret, the one thing she had never shared with her best friend Darcy, or Zach, or her brother—not even with her parents. She sat on the rock and she sang, and she held the secret close to her chest. Doing that made it seem more precious, more…hers.

The Conservatory had allowed recorded audition tapes as part of the application process, and Jillian had done just that, sitting here on her rock, letting her iPhone be the only witness to her singing. Zach would have told her to let her voice be heard, but he’d always been the more outgoing of the two of them. The one who had no problem performing in public.

Zach. He was the last person she wanted to think about. It had been almost three months since she’d given back his ring. After eight years together, he’d let her go as easily as letting the wind catch a balloon. She told herself it didn’t hurt, but it did.

A lot.

So she wrote about it in songs and told herself she was okay. Totally okay.

Thunder rumbled in the sky, and dark clouds moved across the sun, casting the beach in gray shadow. Rain droplets began to sputter, falling onto the white lined paper before her. Jillian gathered up the guitar and her notepad, then climbed down the rocky path. She jogged up the sandy trail to her car, then stowed the guitar in the trunk, put the engine in gear and took a right, heading toward The Love Shack.

The skies opened up just as she turned onto the road. Her cantankerous Hyundai sputtered and coughed, but kept chugging. Jillian patted the dash. “Come on, Sylvia. Hold on for just a few more months, okay? We had a deal. You make it to February and I’ll use my tax refund to fix you up.”

The rain pounded too fast and too hard for her wipers to keep up. Puddles formed in the road, then spread a river across the rutted worn path. She should have stuck to the main road, but this way was shorter, usually faster. Sylvia shuddered, then the engine stammered. Jillian pressed on the gas, urging the car up a little hill, but the water was pouring down faster than the wheels wanted to go, and halfway up the hill, Sylvia died. Not a slow, quiet death, but a herky-jerky, coughing death spiral.

Jillian cursed and steered toward the side of the road, though the car had already stopped moving. Great. She was stuck here, on this remote road, a mile from work, in a Noah’s Ark-worthy storm. She flipped out her cell phone, and too late realized she’d forgotten to charge it.

Damn.

She rooted under the front seats, hoping she’d remembered to stow her umbrella, but all she found was a few old French fries and an empty water bottle. Shit.

Guess that meant she was hoofing it. She cursed again, then got out of the car, hunching her shoulders against the downpour, though it did no good. The rain fell in sheets, soaking her hair, running like a waterfall off the end of her ponytail and down her bangs, then streaming down her face. Within seconds, her tank top and shorts were soaked, and her sneakers were sodden. She was cold and wet and pissed off. It was going to be one hell of a long mile.

She broke into a light jog, though for Jillian, about the only running she did was between the kitchen and the dining room at work. She heard the low rumble of an engine behind her, and spun around, thrusting out a thumb. On the mainland she wouldn’t hitchhike, but here on Fortune’s Island, she knew pretty much every single soul.

Almost as soon as she put out her thumb, she put it back down. The low, dark Mustang was one she knew well. As well as she knew its driver.

Zach…

 

***

CAN’T GET OVER YOU, Book 2 in the Fortune’s Island series, may be purchased through these online retailers: Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-A-Million.

 

***

About Shirley

When she’s not writing books, New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Shirley Jump competes in triathlons, mostly because all that training lets her justify mid-day naps and a second slice of chocolate cake. She’s published more than 60 books in 24 languages, although she’s too geographically challenged to find any of those countries on a map. Visit her website at www.ShirleyJump.com for author news and a book list, and follow her on Facebook for giveaways and deep discussions about important things like chocolate and shoes.

 

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Author Speed Dating – Elizabeth Heiter

Author Speed Dating(1)

If there’s one thing I enjoy almost as much as writing books, it’s READING books. I love discovering new authors, too. So I thought my blog would be a perfect place to introduce my authors friends to potential new readers. Only to give it a twist, we’re doing this Speed-Dating style. Check out a new author here every Wednesday, and if the spark is there, you’ll have a match.

 

This week’s guest: Elizabeth Heiter

 

Liz photo

SUSPENSE2

 

 

 

15 Questions

1. Ferrari or Ford F-150?

Ferrari.  Preferably on a closed racetrack.  I like a little speed!

2. What is your biggest fear as you are writing a story?

That it will all come together!  Doesn’t matter how many I write, I always try to give myself a new challenge and I always fear I’ll suddenly forget how to finish a book.  Writer neurosis, I suppose!

3. Name a TV you have either binge-watched or own on DVD.

Psych.  I love something funny to balance out my research when I have time for a break, and that show cracks me up every time.

4. What is the one thing you wish someone else had told you before you published your first book?

That it doesn’t get any easier – the challenges just change!

5. Rolling Stones or Florida Georgia Line?

My taste in music is pretty eclectic, so both!

6. Name the most embarrassing concert you ever attended?

Hmmm…I’m not really embarrassed about it, but I went to a Bryan Adams concert where he played a lot of songs from the ’90s.

7. What do you eat for dinner when you’re all alone in the house, and no one has to know about it?

Dessert for dinner.  But let’s be honest – I’ve done that in public, too.  My chocolate problem is well-documented.

8. Name your favorite gift you ever gave to someone else, and what made it special.

This isn’t exactly a gift, but when my first book was finally published, I dedicated it to my mom and my critique partner.  It meant a lot to me to be able to publicly share how much they’d supported me and helped shape my writing over the years.

9. What is one of the biggest risks you’ve taken as a writer?

Honestly, in every book I try to tackle something that scares me a little.  But possibly one of the biggest was right from the start: I sold in two genres right away, and one was a genre and length I’d never written before I sold it.

10. Kurt Vonnegut or J.K. Rowling?

My taste in books is just as eclectic as my taste in music, so I’m going to have to say both here, too!  As a writer, I think it’s really important to read – and to read widely.

11. What are your favorite activities outside of writing?

Downhill skiing – I haven’t done it in a while and I miss it! (Maybe that’s why I want to take a Ferrari around a racetrack, since I haven’t flown down a hill on skis in a while!)  And of course, reading and spending time with friends and family.

12. How many books have you published, and how many had you written before you thought of yourself as a successful writer?

I have six books on shelves now and four more coming in 2017.  In some ways, I felt like a successful writer before I even sold (because I was proud of the work I put into the craft and the product) and in some ways, I’ll probably never really feel like one because I’m always striving to improve and challenge myself in new ways.

13. What would you choose as your super power, and what would you do with it?

Maybe the ability to be two places at once.  I could be writing and skiing at the same time!

14. In which genres and sub-genres are you published, and which was the hardest and easiest to write?

I’m published in suspense and romantic suspense.  They’re both challenging in different ways – suspense gives you tons of room to play with complicated twists and subplots, and romantic suspense (category) means entwining all the romance and all the suspense and keeping it under 60K.  Both are fun – I get to create a puzzle and (vicariously) kick some bad guy’s ass!

15. Kardashians. Yes or no?

Nope.  Can’t do it.  I prefer my drama in a book – with fewer paparazzi and more murder!

 

***

Stalked

 

Stalked

By Elizabeth Heiter

 

“Where are you, Haley?” Linda whispered into the stillness of her daughter’s room.

Today marked exactly a month since her daughter had gone missing. Since Haley’s boyfriend Jordan had dropped her off at school for cheerleading practice. Since her best friend Marissa had waved to her from the field on that unusually warm day, watched her walk into the school, presumably to change before joining Marissa at practice.

She’d never walked out again.

How did a teenage girl go missing from inside her high school? No one could answer that for Linda. As time went by, they seemed to have fewer answers and more questions.

But Linda knew—with some deep part of her she could only explain as mother’s intuition—that Haley was out there somewhere. Not buried in an unmarked grave, as she’d overheard two cops speculating when day after day passed with no more clues. Haley was still alive, and just waiting for someone to bring her home.

Linda clutched Haley’s bright pink sweatshirt tighter. She fell against the bed, trying to hold her sobs in, and the mattress slid away from her, away from the box spring.

Linda froze as the edge of a tiny black notebook caught her attention.

The book was jammed between the box spring and the bedframe. The police must have missed it, because she’d seen them peer underneath Haley’s mattress when they’d looked through the room, assessing her daughter’s things so matter-of-factly.

Linda’s pulse skyrocketed as she yanked it out. She didn’t recognize the notebook, but when she opened the cover, there was no mistaking her daughter’s girly handwriting. And the words…

She dropped the notebook, practically flung it away from her in her desire to get rid of it, to un-see it. She didn’t realize she’d started screaming until her husband ran into the room and wrapped his arms around her.

“What? What is it?” he kept asking, but all she could do was sob and point a shaking hand at the notebook, lying open to the first page, and Haley’s distinctive scrawl:

If you’re reading this, I’m already dead.

 ***

 A popular girl goes missing, and everyone close to her has something to hide.  Follow FBI profiler Evelyn Baine as she tries to uncover which of Haley’s secrets might have led to her disappearance in STALKED by Elizabeth Heiter. The fourth book in The Profiler series, STALKED will be available December 27, 2016, from MIRA Books.

STALKED will be available at many major retailers and from these online retailers: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million and Harlequin.

 

***

About Elizabeth

Critically acclaimed and award-winning author ELIZABETH HEITER likes her suspense to feature strong heroines, chilling villains, psychological twists, and a little bit (or a lot!) of romance. Her research has taken her into the minds of serial killers, through murder investigations, and onto the FBI Academy’s shooting range. Her novels have been published in a dozen countries and translated into seven languages, and her novels have also been shortlisted for the Daphne Du Maurier, Booksellers’ Best and National Readers’ Choice awards and won the RT Reviewers’ Choice award.  You can learn more about Elizabeth at www.elizabethheiter.com or chat with her on Facebook or Twitter.

 

 

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Empty Nesting: Living a Full Life

Marissa at BC
DD #1 in 2011.

My name is Dana, and I’m a happy empty nester. (My husband and I are in this together, so make that two of us.) This probably doesn’t sound like such a big feat, but for me, it was a long and difficult transition. So read on to learn a little about my journey to acceptance.

Cat at U of M
DD #2 in 2013.

Empty nesting, or as my author pal Isabelle Drake, refers to it, “successful parenting,” is that period in life when, after many trial runs and test takeoffs under the guidance of a flight instructor, our young aviators fly off to make lives of their own.

Parents either look forward to that part of life with anticipation or dread its inevitable approach. In the beginning, even though I said I wanted my kids to fly,  I dreaded it.

Lex at WMU
DD #3 in 2015.

I know it was selfish, but I couldn’t stop myself. You see, for nearly two decades, my work focus had been to help three rambunctious girls develop into decent, responsible adults, and then I was summarily dismissed, not once but three times. (Okay, I did other things during those years, including writing my first sixteen novels, but please indulge my penchant for hyperbole this once.) I felt so obsolete. Discarded. Lost. But beyond that, I grieved for my baby who was no longer a baby and for our family that would never be together in our house in the same way again. Psychologists call this Empty Nest Syndrome, and I was a poster child for it.

At Duran Duran
Duran Duran.

My solution to these out-of-control feelings was to help our children prepare for their departures with my endless shopping lists and check-off lists. Let’s just say that the family was lucky to survive my brand of help.

At least the leaving took place in stages, with only one plate at the dinner table vanishing every two years. The first was the hardest. I’m pretty sure I cried through all of Massachusetts and most of New York in 2011 as we returned from leaving our first daughter at her university in Boston.

at Zoo
Columbus Zoo.

At home, I sobbed when I looked in her bedroom, and I started up again when I found her ACT scores while going through some papers. I kept forgetting to set only four plates for dinner instead of five. It took all of my inner strength to keep my promise to avoid calling or texting her and to let her control our contact while she was at school.

But life did go on at our house, and by the time our second daughter left in 2013, I had become a little stronger. I only cried for about 30 minutes this time, though, admittedly, her college was only…uh…30 minutes from home.

At Metric
Metric at the Fillmore.

So then there were only three of us at the table. And, believe it or not, our youngest wasn’t prepared to entertain her parents every minute of the day, so my husband and I were left to our own devices. That was when we rediscovered us. Though we’d spent the past two decades attending soccer games, swim meets, Confirmation services, choir concerts and awards banquets – and we didn’t regret a minute of it – now we had time to do things just for us. We could ride bikes together, go to concerts and go to movies. We had time to remember why we were married and why we’d established this family in the first place. And we found that there were a lot of reasons.

By the time that we delivered our third daughter to college across the state in 2015, I could finally be thrilled for her in her new journey. Sure, I cried again. She is our baby, after all. But I finished quickly, and then we headed off for a fun weekend getaway. There was some strangeness when we arrived home to a really empty house – only two plates this time – but it wasn’t as hard as I’d expected. The girls had been ready for years to be the people we’d raised them to be, and I was finally ready to let them without feeling left behind.

So I really am a happy empty nester now. Happy for the girls and happy for us. Our house might be empty, but our lives are full.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Author Speed Dating: Ruth Ryan Langan

Author Speed Dating(1)

This week’s guest: Ruth Ryan Langan

ruthphoto

 

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

 

 

15 Questions

1. Ferrari or Ford F-150?

Ferrari.  Just to see how I’d look in one, since the F-150 is a staple in my family’s life.

2. What is your biggest fear as you are writing a story?

That I’ll forget everything I’ve ever learned about the craft of writing.

3. Name a TV you have either binge-watched or own on DVD.

The first season of Scandal.  Not to be missed.  Each season after that got progressively sillier.  Or I got jaded.  And all of Downton Abbey.  Devoured it.  Couldn’t get enough.

4. What is the one thing you wish someone else had told you before you published your first book?

To have a career plan. 

5. Rolling Stones or Florida Georgia Line?

Stones.  They’re old like me.

6. Name the most embarrassing concert you ever attended?

Jack Jones in Las Vegas.  A coveted head table.  My poor husband fell asleep, head back, actually snoring, and Jack Jones was singing “Time To Get Ready For Love”.  He caught my eye, walked down off the stage, and sang it to me, while hubby snored, much to the delight of the entire audience.  As we left later, hubby asked what was so funny as dozens of strangers wanted to shake his hand.

7. What do you eat for dinner when you’re all alone in the house, and no one has to know about it?

Cottage cheese, right from the carton.  I love cottage cheese.

8. Name your favorite gift you ever gave to someone else, and what made it special?

A rabbit fur coat my daughters and I bought my mother.  She opened the box and cried.  (She never cried in public).  Later she put it on and smiled from ear to ear. 

9. What is one of the biggest risks you’ve taken as a writer?

Sending off my very first manuscript to a publisher, and living on dreams for months before receiving my first rejection letter.  And then doing it again and again, until I had my first sale.

10. Kurt Vonnegut or J.K. Rowling?

J.K.  She tapped into the world’s fascination with all things magic, and deserves the success it has brought her.  Plus, I just love her rags-to-riches true-life story.

11 . What are your favorite activities outside writing?

Reading.  I never get caught up. And gardening.  I love digging in the dirt and watching pretty things grow from tiny seeds and plants.

12. How many books have you published, and how many had you written before you thought of yourself as a successful writer?

Over one hundred published now, and I still feel like that dreamy mother of five little kids, wondering if I could ever be a writer. I’ll let you know if I ever feel successful.

13. What would you choose as your super power, and what would you do with it?

Speak dozens of foreign languages.  I wouldn’t let anyone know, so I could listen to strangers in elevators and know what they’re saying (especially about me.) 

14. In which genres and sub-genres are you published, and which was the hardest and easiest to write?

I’ve had both contemporary and historical romantic-suspense novels published, and the historicals take a bit more work since I have to do research on the setting and era.

15. Kardashians. Yes or no?

No.  Don’t watch.  Don’t care. 

 

***

Luke by Ruth

  Luke

By R.C. Ryan

 

A November, 2016 release from Forever

A division of Grand Central Publishing

 

…Ingrid’s smile fled and she jerked back.  “Don’t try playing those games with me, Luke.”

“What games are we talking about?”

“You know exactly what I mean.  All those sexy moves.”

“Really?  Sexy?”  He was grinning as he reached a hand to her cropped hair.  “Like this?”

Her chin came up.  “If you want lots of hair, reach for Nadine’s.”

“Is that why you chopped yours off?”  He allowed a silken strand to sift through his fingers.  “To prove a point?”

“Well, aren’t you the brilliant observer.  For the record, there are a lot of things Nadine does that I refuse to do.  I don’t bother with makeup.  And…”

“…and you try to hide your gorgeous body under this bulky shirt.”  He fingered the rough collar.  His smile was quick and charming.  “I’ll let you in on a secret.  It’s not working.”

She slapped his hand away.  “Stop trying to be clever.  I know what I am.  I’m a rancher who’s struggling to stay on the land I love.  A big sister working overtime to raise Lily to be the best she can.”

“You forgot the most important.  You’re a woman.” His voice lowered to a near growl.  “Maybe you’d like to forget that, but it’s impossible for me to overlook the fact that you’re not just a woman but a gorgeous, amazing, very independent one.”

She actually gasped as he leaned close.

“Just so you know, I’m going to kiss you, Ingrid.”  His arms came around her and he gathered her close.

He’d known her lips would be soft and inviting.  Had known it from the first time he’d looked at them.  But he wasn’t prepared for the taste of her.  Sweet, yet tart.  So strong, but he could feel the way her breath hitched, alerting him to her unease.  All woman, and fighting it.

She kept her hands at her sides, refusing to give him any encouragement.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.  So don’t be afraid.”  He spoke the words inside her mouth.

“I’m not…”

“Just for a moment, Ingrid, let yourself enjoy something.”

She responded with a soft purr in the back of her throat.  For the space of a heartbeat he could feel her relax in his arms as she gave herself up to the moment.

A burst of heat shot through Luke’s veins.  His heartbeat was thundering, keeping time with hers.  He changed the angle of the kiss and took it deeper, until he could actually feel the fire. The ground tilted beneath his feet, and he knew he was losing control.  He hadn’t meant to take it this far.  None of it had been planned.  He’d merely wanted to kiss her, and tease her a little. But now, too late, he realized that one taste of these lips would never be enough.

***

Luke by R.C. Ryan will be released on Nov. 29, 2016, and is available for pre-order through these online retailers: Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

***

About Ruth

New York Times best-selling author Ruth Ryan Langan, who also writes as R. C. Ryan, has seen more than one hundred of her fiction novels, both contemporary and historical, published.  Quite an accomplishment for someone who, after her fifth child started school, gave herself the gift of an hour a day to follow her dream to become a published author.

Ruth has given dozens of radio, television and print interviews across the country and Canada, and was quoted in such diverse publications as THE WALL STREET JOURNAL and COSMOPOLITAN.  She had the privilege of being interviewed by radio legend J.P.McCarthy shortly before his death.  Ruth has been interviewed on CNN NEWS, as well as GOOD MORNING AMERICA, and was a guest years ago on DONAHUE.,

LUKE, the second book in the Malloys of Montana series, written under her pseudonym R. C. Ryan, will be released in November, followed by her novella A COWBOY’S CHRISTMAS EVE, in December.  The last book in the Malloys of Montana series, REED, will be published in April 2017.

Connect with Ruth through her website, www.ryanlangan.com, and through these social-media sites: Facebook and Twitter.

 

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