Thursday 31 May 2012


Thursday Promo Day welcomes...Elysa Hendricks.

Elysa Hendricks is 5'6" tall. She has brown eyes and curly hair.
She's an author, a wife, a mother and a daughter. Everything else
is subject to change without notice.
 Elysa can be contacted through;


When Planet of the Apes meets Star Trek what's a girl to do?

After recon pilot Cora Daniels crash lands on an alien planet she finds herself a prisoner of the Flock: a race of birdlike humanoids. Trapped in their zoo she discovers they intend her to mate. To breed. To be part of their human herd.

She's placed in a cage with a man - a powerful, virile man, but not just any man - Alexander. Was he her lost love, who'd disappeared so long ago? Here he was: naked, glistening, a warrior trained by the Flock to fight for their amusement. How could the brilliant man, the tender lover she remembered have become this animal born to dominate and destroy? Was he a pawn of the Flock or would their flight to freedom be a long-sought reunion?

Amazon Buy Link:

At the gate, a guard stepped in Cora's path and whistled an incomprehensible command.
"What?" she asked.
Cora was no alien expert. A pilot and a mechanic, she knew engines and machines not people--and on this planet the Flock were the reigning "people." Her translator chip still couldn't decipher the Flock language. The chirps, cackles, whirs, whistles and trills they used as speech sounded like birdsong, but unlike birdsong she didn't find anything pleasing about it. Her one required course on alien contact at the Academy wouldn't do her any good if she couldn't understand or speak their language.
The Flock whistled again. She tried to move around him. He smacked her arm with his rod then shoved her ahead of him.
"Go where?" she called out to the women.
One woman ran along the inside of the compound fence. "Make young." The answer left a lot to be desired.
"What happen?" Cora asked.
The woman smiled. "Go. Much fun. Good. You like."
"Yeah, sure," Cora muttered. Whatever the Flock had in mind for her, she wasn't interested.
She took the opportunity to look around as the guard herded her deeper into the compound, past the pen she'd occupied since her arrival. They moved down a wide path between a series of pens to where she hadn't yet been. Farther ahead lay some buildings.
It appeared the compound covered several acres, consisting of many pens separated by wooden barriers. The inhabitants of each pen were segregated by age and gender. Her pen held ten women, all in their twenties like her. One pen held girls ranging in age from about five to fifteen. A larger pen held about fifteen women, all with babies and toddlers. In still another pen, fresh wood chips covered the ground, there were tent-covered low benches with soft cushions, and a fountain provided fresh water and cooled the hot, dry air. Six women in varying stages of pregnancy occupied this pen. Cora couldn't help but gape at the women's bulging bellies and swollen breasts. Sweet stars, she was trapped on a breeding farm for humans.
The women paid little attention to her or her guard as they moved through this human chicken coop. She noticed there weren't any pens with grown men. If the women were hens, where was the rooster?
The next pen answered her question. Naked except for protective cups over their genitals, ten boys ranging in age from four to ten practiced fighting with wooden swords. Her attention shifted from the boys to the adult male who directed their training. Though his back was to her, he appeared as naked as the boys. Forgetting the guard, she paused to watch.
Bronze skin shiny with sweat rippled over powerful muscles as the man instructed the boys in swordplay. With his dark hair and straddle-legged stance, the youngest boy looked like a miniature version of the man. Cora smiled at his clumsy attempts to imitate his elder's fluid movements.
The boy watched the man intently, but his small body, round with baby fat, refused to cooperate. He tripped and sprawled in the dust. His wooden sword slipped from his grip. The other boys' laughter stopped abruptly at the man's sharp command. The man knelt next to the boy, said a few quiet words then handed him back the wooden sword. The boy rubbed the tears from his cheeks with grubby fists, leaving streaks of dirt. The man's compassion for the boy touched Cora, made these people seem less like animals. More human.
At one time she'd dreamed of someday having a child like this--Alex's child. That dream had died with him. Losing Alex had killed that need inside her. Now she lived to explore. Relationships, love and caring for others were no longer part of her life.
Still, her gaze moved back to the man and traveled from the top of his head, covered with sleek shoulder-length ebony hair, down his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and taut bare buttocks. Her breath caught at the beauty of his form. His unashamed masculinity woke her buried femininity. Her nipples tightened in response. At some primal level her body recognized this man. No one since Alex had stirred her like this. "Turn around," she whispered. "I want to see your face."
Instead, he stepped back from the boys then lunged forward. Sunlight flashed off the blade of his sword as he whirled. Briefly, before the beauty of his motion recaptured her attention, she wondered why he didn't use his own real sword to strike down his captors and seize his freedom. Dark hair obscured his features as his face whipped past. Why did he seem so familiar? She had to see his face. She started forward.
Pain radiated down her arm. Instinctively she turned to confront her attacker--the guard--and ducked the next blow. Acting on rage and adrenaline, she snatched the rod from his hand and cracked it across his neck. Without a sound, he went down and lay motionless.

Thank you for featuring today Elysa.

Wednesday 30 May 2012


My huge welcome, today, goes to fellow author from Crooked{Cat}Publishing- MARK PATTON-whose debut novel 'Undreamed Shores' was published last week. (I've just started reading it, and wonder who Mark just might be talking about below!)

Mark is here today to tell us how he uses
Secondary Characters in his novel.
In 2003, workmen digging a trench for a water-pipe near Boscombe in Wiltshire discovered human bones and pottery.  Archaeologists were called in, and confirmed that the remains dated to the Early Bronze Age, making them around 4300 years old, roughly the same period as the construction of nearby Stonehenge (  At the time, I was starting to formulate the idea for a novel, set at just that point in both time and space, and featuring the construction of Stonehenge itself.

As the Boscombe dig progressed, it became clear that this was no ordinary grave. It contained the remains of seven people, only one of whom had been buried in the usual way for the period (as an intact body, lying on his side in a crouched position).

(image: Wessex Archaeology)
The scattered bones of two men and a teenager were found around this central burial, as were the partial remains of three children, one of whom had been burned. Chemical analysis of the teeth suggested that three of the individuals had been born in Wales (possibly the same region from which stones had been brought to build Stonehenge).

These seven people became secondary characters in my novel, now published as Undreamed Shores, and the mystery of how they came to be buried as they were became an important sub-plot.

Undreamed Shores includes quite a few secondary characters. There is an epic journey at the heart of it, requiring a crew of eleven, and, like Homer’s Odysseus, my protagonist, Amzai, also meets many people on his journey, some of them friendly, others less so. Unlike, say, a psychological drama or a romance, the nature of my story cried out for a substantial cast of secondary characters, who would hardly be credible if they were not three-dimensional.

When I thought, however, about my all-time favourite secondary characters in literature (Thersites in The Iliad; Treebeard in The Lord of the Rings; Mr Deasy, the pompous headmaster in James Joyce’s Ulysses; Thomas “Call-Me-Risley” Wriothesley in Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall & Bring Up The Bodies), it seemed to me that as well as, in many cases, providing an element of humour, the way in which they are characterised often carries forward key themes in the author’s creation of a fictional world.

In developing the characters of Treebeard and the Ents, for example, Tolkien develops the theme of an ancient world order, the passing of which is already underway. He gives this strange character (part human, part animal, part tree) a long history, and a memory filled with regrets (the separation of the male Ents and the female “Entwives”; the consequent lack of “Entings” to continue their race and traditions; their betrayal by the wizard Saruman; the rise of the evil empire of Mordor).  This theme of the passing of an old world, a loss of innocence, is central to the whole narrative of The Lord of the Rings.

My narrative purpose in Undreamed Shores is almost the mirror image of Tolkien’s, my aim being to summon up a vision not of a passing social order, but of an emerging new one, a world (suggested by my reading of the archaeological evidence) in which individuals travelled further than they had ever travelled before; in which people from very different cultural backgrounds were coming into contact with each other for the first time; in which a new religion was putting down roots; and new technologies being adopted. 
It might be thought that the emergence of one social order presupposes the passing of an older one, and so it does, but Undreamed Shores is told unambiguously from the point of view of the enthusiasts for the new order, prominent among them Nanti, the young woman with whom Amazai falls in love, and her father, Arthmael, the architect of Stonehenge, and himself an immigrant from a distant land.

image from

There must certainly be another story to tell. I will probably write it some day, but I haven’t started to think about it yet. Writing, for me, is too much like method acting: I can’t exit stage left as Prince Hal in one breath, and re-enter stage right as Harry Hotspur in the next; so that will have to wait. It won’t even be my next novel (that’s set 2000 years later, and will feature one of Amzai’s distant descendants).

And the people buried at Boscombe? In my story they include Engus, Nanti’s cousin, and his three companions from “the Westlands.” I have given them all histories, and personalities, and given the “Westlanders” a distinctive pattern of speech which (quite artificially) draws on the way in which English is used in modern Wales. In elaborating their story I have given some hints as to the conflicts that I might develop further in either a sequel or a prequel but, in either case, it will probably be secondary characters (if not necessarily Engus and his companions) who provide the link between the two stories.

Mark Patton
Mark Patton was born in Jersey, and studied archaeology & anthropology at Cambridge. He is the author of several non-fiction books, and currently teaches for The Open University. Undreamed Shores is his first novel.

Undreamed Shores is published by Crooked{Cat}Publishing and is available to buy from:

Mark can be contacted at:

Thank you for visiting today, Mark, and best wishes with 'Undreamed Shores'.

Tuesday 29 May 2012


Hello everyone!

I'd like to welcome Sarah J. McNeal to my Secondary Characters- Tuesdays in May blogs. She's brought with her a couple of fabulous covers and some very interesting reading about how she developed a secondary character into a very handsome hero! 

And make sure to read on at the end to find out a little bit more about this cheery Western author...

Secondary Characters
When I wrote Harmonica Joe’s Reluctant Bride, I originally intended to include a bewhiskered old prospector who frequented the Iron Slipper saloon and bordello where the heroine, Lola works concocting extraordinary cocktails from her twenty-first century recipes. But something happened—something magical straight from my muse and I changed the crusty old codger in for a homeless sixteen year old boy named Banjo by his surrogate mother who worked cleaning the bar and doing laundry.  She died when Banjo was ten and he learned to survive in the streets by doing odd jobs.  Belle, the owner of the bordello, allowed him to sleep in the tiny storage room behind the saloon.  He possessed a gift for inventing mechanical things and, when Lola needed an ice crusher for one of her delicious creations, Banjo volunteered and made her one from spare parts and junk.

Because of his circumstances, it was only natural that he fell into some bad ways in his youth.  Banjo drank whiskey, smoked cheroots, gambled and enjoyed the pleasure of the Belle’s “soiled doves” who were eager to teach him the bedroom arts of pleasuring a woman.  He was courageous, smart and hard working.  He saved Lola’s life from a murderous brute and helped Joe and Lola rebuild after their house was set on fire.  It became very clear to me that Banjo needed his own story.

The timing for Banjo’s story as an adult fell into the World War I era and loved that I could include such a rich chunk of history into his story.  Of course, Banjo is a westerner through and through.  He grew up in the fictitious town of Hazard, Wyoming with a love of wild, open spaces and horses and has a heart as big as the sky.  To increase the story intensity, I sent him off to New York City to find his absentee father and make something of himself in order to ask for the hand of his fair love, Margaret Ann O’Leary.  Maggie is no shy, reclusive girl but a iron-willed woman who can run a ranch and has a mind of her own. When she begins to doubt Banjo’s faithfulness, she sure as Hades isn’t going to sit in her rocking chair and knit.  No sir, Maggie intends to get to the bottom of things and Banjo best be prepared to give her an accounting.

For Love of Banjo:
Deceit stands between Banjo Wilding’s love for Maggie O’Leary and his search for the father he never knew.
Banjo Wilding wears a borrowed name and bears the scars and reputation of a lurid past.  To earn the right to ask for Margaret O’Leary’s hand, he must find his father and make something of himself.
Margaret O’Leary has loved Banjo since she was ten years old but standing between her and Banjo is pride, Banjo’s mysterious father and the Great War.
Will either of them find happiness?    

Why was he being so stubborn?  Their time together was about to end.  The moments grew precious and she didn’t want to waste one second.  The scent of soap and leather radiated from him.  She wanted to remember everything about him, the way he looked and smelled; the sound of his voice and the way his hair gleamed in the sun. 
Sunset spread like liquid gold across the horizon.  The golden light glinted off his spectacles, making it impossible for Maggie to read his dark eyes.
 Her lips pressed together in hurt. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Banjo Wilding that a good slap across the face won’t fix.”  He grabbed her wrist in his long fingers and held it in his firm but gentle grasp.
“First you want me to make love to you—in sin I might add—and next thing comes out of your mouth is sass.  Making love to you might prove a dangerous undertaking for any man.”  He smiled when he said it.  He let go of his hold on her wrist and opened his arms to her.  His dark eyes drew her to him.  She gazed into those magnetic eyes, felt her heart turn over and hurried into his warm embrace.  Banjo pulled her in close and kissed the crown of her head. 
The Earth paused as she stood in his arms.  Minutes passed.  Banjo took in a ragged breath and Maggie knew what he would say next.  She dreaded it.  He loosened his hold on her and stepped back.  The awful moment had come.  

For Love of Banjo BUY LINKS :
Lulu :
Monkey Bars :

Harmonica Joe's Reluctant Bride by Sarah McNeal
Western Trail Blazer Novels

A haunted house, a trunk and a date with destiny.
Lola Barton discovers a warp in time in an old trunk when she falls into 1910. She finds herself married to Joseph Wilding, a stranger shadowed by secrets. Mistaken for Callie McGraw, a thief and a woman of ill repute, Lola finds her life is threatened by a scoundrel. Joe stands between her and certain death. With danger threatening all around and secrets keeping them apart, can Joe and Lola find their destiny together? Or will time and circumstance forever divide them?

Buy Links:
(Available in digital and paperback)

And now...who is Sarah J. McNeal? 

                I became interested in writing at a young age.  My parents didn’t allow us to have a television so my sisters and I became avid readers.  We read everything from Shakespeare to my mother’s True Detective Stories that, by the way, scared the hell out of me.  I submitted my first story and received my first rejection when I was thirteen years old.
                Along with writing, I have a deep love of music and play the violin, bagpipes, guitar and harmonica. 
                I live with my two cats, Acorn and Liberty and my golden retriever, Kate.  I feed the wild birds around my house but there are way too many to name.  I enjoy all wild creatures and am a member of The Defenders of Wildlife and The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals as well as The Humane Society of the United States.
                I am particularly drawn to writing fantasy and time travel/historical romances.  I have created a magical place called Valmora where winged people with various magical abilities are in constant struggle against the evil forces of the Dark Isle. 
                 I also write time travel novels and love doing the historical research for them.  I am also writing a series of musical instrument stories inspired by my love of music and playing musical instruments.
                Until recent years, I wrote short stories, two of which were the early inspiration for the Valmora series and three other stories that were sci-fi and paranormal.
                I have also written nonfiction including an article in The Charlotte Observer and a monthly newsletter from the emergency department of CMC Mercy Hospital.
                You can also find blogs and more information about me at my website:
                Writing brings me a joy and fulfillment that nothing else can.  I love creating magical worlds and people who want to make a difference.  I hope that anyone who reads them will love them, too.

Where you can find Sarah J. McNeal:

Sarah’s Provocative Ponderings:
My Amazon Author’s Page:

Thank you for coming to visit today, Sarah,  and for introducing your handsome hero-Banjo.  Best wishes for great sales!


Thursday 24 May 2012

This Thursday Promotion presents BABETTE JAMES.

Clear As Day 
by Babette James
Come fall in love at the river.

Babette has brought a little competition for you so watch out for details at the end of this post!


What’s a girl to do when her summer lover wants forever?

Haunted by dark memories of her parents’ volatile marriage, artist Kay Browning keeps her heart locked behind a free-spirit facade and contents herself with the comfortable affair she has every summer with easygoing photographer Nate Quinn.

The only trouble with her plan? This summer Nate’s come to Lake Mohave to claim the lover he can’t let go. He’s done with the endless traveling and settling for temporary homes and temporary loves. Kay’s always been more than just a vacation fling, and now he must convince this woman, who sees love as a course to certain heartbreak, to take that leap of faith and learn how safe love with the right man can be.


Kay!” That male voice was not her imagination.

“Oh, shit!” She twisted and dropped into the water, sinking neck-deep.

Mother always said, among other things, that a lady never goes skinny-dipping and must always wear a proper hat. Kay was only half skinny-dipping, but she fervently wished she’d worn something a bit more substantial than a baseball cap and the bottom half of the quintessential teeny-weenie yellow polka-dot bikini.

Shit, oh, shit, oh, shit. She so hated when Mother was right.

Okay, time to find out who’d just gotten an eyeful. The guy had called her name, so she should know him. Oh boy, if she’d flashed old George…

She wiped water from her face, sucked in a breath against her pounding heart, and peeked around.


She must be sun-dazed. Nate? With a beard? Hair curling over his ears? No way.

Just because a familiar slouchy fishing hat topped those unruly, sun-bleached blond curls and just because this guy possessed the same deep-water tan and footloose taste in clothes as Nate with his electric blue Hawaiian shirt, bright orange swim trunks, and beat-up deck shoes didn’t mean—

“Hey, babe. Now that I’ve finally caught your attention, how about a hug from my girl?” He opened his arms. “Am I coming in after you or are you coming out?” Only Nate’s voice held that mellow timbre like chocolate for her ears.

“Nate! What…” Giddy delight flushed over Kay, clearing her shock. She dashed from the water and into strong arms, a wonderful hug, and a better kiss that launched her mind into a blissed-out whirl of oh, yes and why?

The oh, yes won out until the need to breathe forced them apart.

Nate gave her a long look, his usually easy gray eyes holding a new, simmering heat.

Wow. Whoa.

That's a great blurb and excerpt from Clear as Day. Now let's find out something about the author.

Who is Babette James?

I’ve always loved writing and making up stories, beginning back when I used to act out epic fantasy tales with my dolls. (My Barbies had swords and knew how to use them.) I even have a degree in Literature, but it wasn’t until 2004 that I wrote my first full rough draft of romance novel and began gathering up my nerve to pursue publication. I fell in love with writing romance and have focused on that ever since. I write contemporary and fantasy romance and love nail-biting tales with a satisfying happily ever after.

Clear As Day is my debut novel, a spicy contemporary romance from The Wild Rose Press about two friends with benefits facing the fears and uncertainties of their changing relationship and is set against the background of the summer heat and cool waters of Lake Mohave. I loved writing Clear As Day, it’s been a story of my heart in many ways, so seeing this story published and receive the 4 1/2 star scorcher review from Romantic Times truly has been a thrill. Being able to hold my book in my hands is a dream come true and I hope you enjoy Nate and Kay’s journey as much as I have.

I’m also a teacher, and I enjoy encouraging young readers and writers as they discover their growing abilities. My class cheers when it’s time for their spelling test! When not writing, teaching or reading, I dabble with bread baking and painting, and try to keep up on weeding the garden beds. Born in New Jersey and raised in Southern California, I’ve had a life-long love of the desert and going down the shore. I now live in New Jersey with my wonderfully patient husband and our three extremely spoiled cats.
Babette loves hearing from readers and you can find her at:

You can buy Clear As Day from: – Paperback & Kindle

...and now for that promised competition! All you have to do is answer the following question, and it could be you....

Do you have a favorite summertime or vacation memory?

Babette will be giving away a set of Romance Trading Cards to one lucky commenter. Please leave your E-mail address with your comment.

Thank you for visiting today!

Tuesday 22 May 2012


Hello everyone,
The Map Quilt, Book 2 of the Buried Treasure mysteries
By Lisa J Lickel

This is a fabulous day to have my author friend Lisa Lickel as my guest on 'she said, he said'. It's not only because she's contributing to my 'Tuesdays in May-Secondary Characters and How We Use Them' theme, but also because... it’s launch day for The Map Quilt - Book 2 of her Buried Treasure mysteries.   

 Let's celebrate with Lisa!

Lisa has special news for you. She's got some goodies to give away...but only today so... 

if that link doesn't work try this one:

 ...and those who purchase Lisa's book today are eligible for a raft of gifts.

But first of all, who is Lisa?

LISA J LICKEL is a multi-published author who enjoys writing and performing radio theater, short story-writing, and is an avid book reviewer and blogger. She enjoys teaching writing workshops and working with new writers and freelance editing. She is the editor of Wisconsin Writers Association’s Creative Wisconsin magazine. She lives in a hundred and sixty-year-old house in Wisconsin filled with books and dragons. Married to a high school biology teacher, she enjoys travel and quilting.

Well, Lisa, I guess my house is older by around 30 years, give or take a few, but I don't think I've got any dragons down in my cellar. In my husband's study? Now that's another matter! Another thing we share, though, is a love of travel...and I'm really getting very involved in mysteries, so let's meet the friends from The Map Quilt that you've invited along with you today. 

There's a lovely old lady being interviewed. Rest your feet, sip your drink and listen in. (or maybe drool over what's on offer!)


Good morning, Mrs. Edwards. Thank you for the coffee. And toast. And coffeecake. Blueberry, is it? Oh, and no, thanks, no cookie right now. They’re oatmeal, you say? Yes, you’re right. Oatmeal is good for breakfast, but…perhaps later. No, the coffee’s fine, I just need…Right, let’s get on with the interview. So, tell us about yourself, ma’am. For the record.
Well, sweetheart, aren’t you the dearest thing? You’re so kind to let me tell a bit of my story. I’m Ardyth Genevieve Anderson Belters Edwards, Mrs. Bryce Edwards, that is. I’m a newlywed, even though I’m celebrating my seventy-seventh birthday in August. And thank you for calling me Mrs. Edwards. Still like the sound of that. I was born and raised right here in Robertsville, though I left for bigger adventures when I turned eighteen. I don’t regret marrying Mr. Belters as I have my dear children, Paul, Robert, and Gwen. But if Bryce and I hadn’t been so pig-headed back then, we would have settled down together…well, no use getting my dander up about that now. We have each other now and are all the more wise.
Did you know I once had a little, bitty crush on Judy’s great uncle Harold, Bryce’s best friend, even though I’d set my cap on Bryce? I guess it’s always a bit of a thrill thinking about the other side of the fence. When Harold went on that gold-mining adventure to Alaska I couldn’t help wanting desperately to go along. Then Bryce announced he was going and they made that-that bet! That was the limit. Good-bye, adios, and farewell.
Since that dear Louise was killed, I never thought I’d have another girlfriend in town. Judy’s a young thing, she is, with a wise and kind heart. It’s a strange thing to have a friend so much younger, but we have lots in common. Sure, we come from Midwest farm stock, know what it’s like to make do. And quilt. So it wasn’t hard for Judy and me to solve the latest murder case, though that young whipper snapper husband of Judy’s better learn some patience, even he is my husband’s business partner.
That’s quite intriguing, Mrs. Edwards. I remember reading about that in the Wisconsin headlines. Tell us what happened. How did you solve the murder?
Oh, my. I can’t tell you that, now. Take the fun out of reading the story for yourself.
You’re right. I apologize. Can you at least share what the case was about?
Why, that lovely woman, Julietta Barslow, of course. I like her spunk, standing up for what’s right all these generations. And to think she came from good Christian stock. Her people never were slaves or even indentured servants. Able to care for themselves right from the get-go. Such a story she has to tell. Well, even before Julietta came to give her program to the school kids, there was the Robertsville Ladies Quilting Society, the ones who sewed that quilt in Judy’s trunk. The quilt with a map on it leading folks along the Underground Railroad. Right through Robertsville. My husband’s family was part of that, too, you know. Good folks seeing no sense in buying and selling souls. A story like that has to be told. Julietta would never have sabotaged Bryce’s business. That lady is no murderer. She did help with Judy’s baby, and all. Probably saved their lives.
image courtesy of

Any troubles with the case?
That little reporter gal, Olivia Hargrove. Responsible reporting, my foot. She nearly ruined the whole thing with all her nosy busy-bodyness. She had no call to go and accuse members of my family the way she did. My grandson Bryan, that’s Paul’s oldest, you know, eighteen, why he’s a good boy. Just a little misguided is all. He’ll come out right. I hope. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like her and all, and admire the way Judy’s trying her best to get along with everyone. It must have been so difficult being an orphan, raised by Louise, dear hear that she was. What was the question? Who’s the orphan? Go on, you say? Yes, let’s.
Do you think you’ll ever collaborate with Judy on another case?
Bad business, this latest murder, for sure. But thrilling, I have to admit. Even though I’d never wish bad things to happen to anyone. No one else knows This yet, so keep quiet. You don’t see that reporting gal around, do you? Olivia? Shhh…we’re ready to solve poor old Esme’s murder. She was Bryce’s aunt, though no one really knew about it. I have my suspicions, of course, about who would done it, but Judy’s the sleuth. I’m her chief aide. If only Cat hadn’t been so reckless. Judy, dear, I think I might be a little distracted, what between Cat and my daughter Gwen, I’m a mess. That’s okay if you want to work with her some more. She’s the one who found the code and all, anyhow.
You don’t say. My, that does sound thrilling. Where do you live again? I want to make sure it’s not on our summer vacation list.
(Sniff) Now, there, Robertsville is really a nice place. Lovely. Have another cookie. And an apple.

It sounds to me as though there are plenty of names mentioned there who have great potential to have their own stories. I wonder who I'd pick first? I'm thinking it might be Olivia...then again, maybe Julietta? 
Here's the blurb for The Map Quilt to give you a little idea of what the story is all about.
The Map Quilt:
Death in rural Wisconsin is only the beginning to new chaos in Robertsville. What do a stolen piece of revolutionary agricultural equipment, a long-buried skeleton in the yard, and an old quilt with secrets have in common? Hart and Judy Wingate, who met in The Gold Standard, are back to solve the mystery of The Map Quilt. Hart’s new battery design could forever change the farm implement industry. But after the death of Hart’s most confrontational colleague in a fire that destroys Hart’s workshop, the battery is missing. Throw in a guest speaker invited to Judy’s elementary classroom who insists she owns the land under Hart’s chief competitor’s corporate headquarters, and a police chief who’s making eyes at Hart’s widowed mother, it’s no wonder Hart is under a ton of pressure to make sure his adventurous pregnant wife stays safe while trying to preserve his company and his reputation.

Now available as an eBook; print coming soon-watch for news on
eBook info:
ISBN: 978-1-77127-038-0

Purchase links:
MuseItUp bookstore:
Thank you for joining me today, Lisa, and for introducing your friends. I wish you a very happy launch and great sales.


Monday 21 May 2012


Days have cycles, weeks have cycles, years have cycles. Yeah? I hear you what's new?

That's the crux! There's that lovely thing called time running away from me again. Got to do more revisions, got to change more sentences, got to pace up, even pace down, got to do blogging...and being a social butterfly.

 (Image credit: <a href='
the-cheerful-girl-and-tricycle-cartoon.html'>liusa / 123RF Stock Photo</a>)

That's the daily challenge for me-and probably for other writers that I know.  Most days I love getting on that bike and doing a few miles, kilometers...metres even- but at others it's the biggest chore. What I might want to do is write afresh, write brand new, but for that to happen I need to clear off the stuff I've started first.

Same goes for my characters in MONOGAMY TWIST. Once a thing is STARTED it needs to be FINISHED.

Here's a less than happy little snippet about how events are progressing...OR NOT...

He ripped off his jacket and threw it across the room. Her ears rang like a clarion but she refused to acknowledge it as he ranted. “You’ve signed that bloody contract and Greywood needs you now! What you’ve started you have to finish!”
Bloody Hell! The way she was feeling she’d leave him high and dry…but Greywood?
She lifted her head. Luke’s natural olive skin tone was leached to a greyish white. Too bad! He deserved to feel as sick as she’d been feeling all day!
Her words were a whisper. “Who is Danielle?”
“Nobody important,” Luke answered into the dark, sinister cloud that enveloped them. His rage was under wraps for now, subdued by her example. At her unimpressed glare he added, “She’s a woman I was dating before I met you.”
Rhia exhaled, her chest heaving with the effort of replying, her eyes puffy from an earlier bout of crying. “Before you met me or…” her voice trembled on the last word “…while?”
“Last weekend in London?” Her eyes were the sharpest darts, very pained darts, but she didn’t care now if Luke noticed or not. “Did you meet up with her then?” Her chin wobbled on the last, so difficult had it been to get the words out, but there was no way she was going to be palmed off with lies or platitudes.

“Sod it! I’m not going to lie to you!”
Luke wrenched off his tie to the beat of some impressive Italian swearing. Plonking himself on the edge of the bed beside her he took a cautious breath before replying.
“Yes, I saw her in London last weekend.”
Rhia couldn’t stifle the sniff as she slid away from him.

 Now for the big question, is the accompanying image appropriate, I wonder? What does Rhia need to finish since she's started? To find out read:

MONOGAMY TWIST by Nancy Jardine

Available from:
The Wild Rose Press link:  Barnes and Noble:

Book trailer MONOGAMY TWIST -