Wednesday, November 19, 2008

FEATURED AUTHOR: Marcia King Gamble


Marcia King-Gamble is a national best selling author, and an ex-travel industry executive. She’s lived in five different states and traveled to some of the more exotic parts of the world. The Far East, Venice and New Zealand are still her favorites.

She enjoys a good work out, is passionate about animals, old houses, and tearjerker movies. Marcia is also the editor of a monthly newsletter entitled Marcia’s Romantically Yours. Log onto her website www.lovemarcia.com and find out what she’s all about.

FIRST CRUSH

Laila Stewart is a copywriter living in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Hudson Godfrey, a struggling vintner lives in Washington State. Hudson and his partner are new to the wine making business and run a legal firm to help pay their bills.

Deciding that he is in no position to have a relationship with Laila, Hudson breaks things off. A confused Laila blames it on geography. Opportunity presents itself in the form of a house swap and Laila swaps her houseboat for a cottage in Washington State.

The surprise factor on her side, she arrives at Hudson’s winery. When Hudson’s partner, Jonathan, hires Laila to write advertisement for the vineyard, she and Hudson are forced to interact on a regular basis. From the beginning it is clear someone is trying to sabotage the men’s plans to open their winery. That someone must be stopped.

Can true love prevail?


What would you like your readers to take away from your book?

Relationships are complicated. First Crush opens with a couple breaking up rather than the typical man meets woman scenario and they embark on a relationship. I hoped to convey that timing is everything and that sometimes you need to lose a loved one to really appreciate what you had. It's something most of us can relate too.

What did you learn while writing this book?

I enjoy a good wine. Rather than set this book in California wine country I chose Washington State. Although I've lived in Seattle a couple of times it was interesting to research wine making and become knowledgeale about what it takes to start a vineyard.

What is the hardest part about the writing business?

On a beautiful day (like today) resisting the urge to stop writing to go out and play. Writing requires discipline. There are times you just have to park your butt in a chair and write regardless of whether the muse is with you or not.

What one thing about writing do you wish other non-writers would understand?

Most writers understand that not everyone is going to like their voice or even get what they're saying. You write because you have too. You develop a thick hide and continue to produce the best work you can despite the naysayers.

Our theme this month is Time Management. How do you do to manage your writing time?

I've always been good about managing my time. I've had to be. When I was first published I had a very demanding job and was more out of the country than I was in. I write every day even if it means carving out an hour or two before the sun rises or after the world is in bed. It's called discipline. If you can make time to eat then you can make time to write. Set aside a particular hour of the day, let the answering machine pick up and even if it means just writing one page a day then do it.

What are three things you wish you'd known before you reached where you are now?

I wished I'd known that writing is a business and that promotion is everything. I wish I'd known how isolating writing can be, and how competitive this business is.

Was there ever a time in your writing career you thought of quitting?

Never. If you truly are passionate about writing you'll never give up. It just takes one fan letter to make you realize how worthwhile this business is.

Do you have any advice for the aspiring writer?

Yes, perseverance pays off. Don't let anyone discourage you from writing. This is a constantly changing market and what one editor turns down another might love. Keep at it and dream big.

What are you thankful for this year?

I am thankful to be healthy, happy, and gainfully employed. I am very thankful for this opportunity to reach out to readers and say thank you. You've made my dream possible.

Five questions about books:

One book you’ve read more than once.


The Color of love written by Sandra Kitt. She's one of my favorite authors and a good friend.

One book you couldn’t put down until you finished.

The Color of Love wins hands down again. It's a poignant love story and beautifully written.

One book that made you laugh.

Anything by Janet Evanovich. I love her Stephanie Plum stories set in New Jersey.

One book that made you cry.

Wild at Heart. It's a book by Patricia Gaffney about a boy raised by wolves now has to be socialized.

One book you wish you'd written.

Toni Blake's in your wildest dreams. It's wonderfully written and the sensuality is tasteful. The hero makes a woman's toes curl.

How can readers get in contact with you? (mail, email, website)

I love hearing from readers. Feel free to log onto my website http://www.lovemarcia.com/. You can e mail me at mkinggambl@aol.com or write me at P.O. Box 25143, Ft. Lauderdale, FL 33320.

EXCERPT: First Crush


First Crush

by Marcia King Gamble


Chapter Five



“That’s one helluva together woman you hooked up with,” Jon said as they perched on bar stools at the neighborhood brewery, chugging a couple of cold ones. “I wish I could find one just like her.”
“Laila and I are no longer a couple. Hopefully we can remain friends,” Hudson answered.
Over the neck of his beer bottle Jon gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “You’re one crazy dude. That woman is prime rib.”
“Don’t you think I know that? But I can’t be involved right now. It’s not fair to her. Not until the business is on more stable ground.”
Hudson guessed Jon would be all over him when he found out he’d broken things off. He’d often suspected his partner had a thing for Laila. Jon had made no secret he thought she was hot. What’s more he respected her and thought she was one of the most talented copywriters around.
“You just made one of the biggest mistakes of your life, bro.” Jon confirmed. “Quality women are hard too find.”
“You should talk. You can’t even remember the last time you dated.”
“I’m just being selective. My tolerance for drama is nil.”
Not wanting the conversation to continue in this vein, Hudson scanned the crowd. The bar was packed with casually but professionally dressed patrons on their way home from work. The majority were Information Technology types judging by the conversations he overheard.
He and Jon had needed to unwind after a stressful day. Their injured employee had nothing more serious wrong with him than a couple of bumps and bruises. It was now left to be seen whether or not he would sue.
What really tore up Hudson was breaking up with Laila. Although it had been a long time in coming, he hadn’t handled it well. But all things considered she’d been gracious and hadn’t thrown a fit. She’d surprised him by coming all this way from Fort Lauderdale and he hadn’t known how to deal with it.
Now that it was done and over with he could fully concentrate on the business. But deep down, he felt lousy. The alcohol was doing nothing to soothe his guilty conscience or erase the memories of the hurt reflected in Laila’s wide brown eyes.
“Anything you want to talk about?” Jon asked, waving a hand in front of his face.
“Yes, as a matter of fact there is. We should talk about getting Scott Wilkinson on board as soon as we can. With the kind of case load we’re both handling, we need someone on board ASAP; a person who can give one hundred percent of their time to production.
For the next fifteen minutes the men discussed their finances, and the need for additional personnel. At the end of the conversation they’d more than justified going ahead and applying for that loan.
“I’m going to take off,” Jon said, slapping a couple of crisp bills down on the bar. “I’d like to be straight with you though, so you don’t think I’m doing anything underhanded. I’m going to call Laila and ask her to dinner. I don’t think it’s right that she’s left to her own devices on Valentine’s night.” He held up his hand stopping Hudson from interrupting. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she understands this is a business dinner. We’ve always enjoyed each other’s company so it definitely won’t be a hardship on my part. And she does work for us.”
Although Hudson had been the one to engineer the break up, he was still ticked. Given the number of single women in the Sammamish Valley that Jon could take out on Valentine’s night, he’d chosen Laila, something seemed off with that.

* * *
When her cell phone rang, Laila debated picking up. She didn’t recognize the incoming caller but hesitated letting the call go to voice mail. It just might be a client?
“Laila Writes,”she answered.
“Hi, hon. How are you doing?” The male voice was one she couldn’t immediately identify.
“Who is this?”
“Jonathan Woods.”
“Oh, Jon. Sorry about that. I guess I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“I wanted to catch you before you made other plans. I was thinking that we might have dinner the day after next?”
“On Valentine’s night?” Her voice sounded too high.
“Yes, ma’am. Hudson told me you and he broke up. I’m here to offer you a shoulder to lean on. I thought we could keep each other company and get some business done at the same time.”
Dinner with Jon sounded inviting. Laila had always liked him, and it was certainly a better alternative than sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She’d decided for the next six months, she’d bury herself in work, and when time permitted she’d do some exploring of the beautiful countryside. There was so much she wanted to see.
“Give me your address and I’ll come by around seven to pick you up,” Jon said.
Laila gave him the information and then hung up feeling much happier. Jon Woods had always treated her with the utmost respect. He was a good friend and right now she could use one.
A cold nose nudged Laila’s shin. She reached over to scratch Mariner behind the ear. The dog always in tune with her moods plopped down on her feet. He must have sensed she was a little off today.
In some ways it was good knowing where she stood with Hudson. They’d never discussed a future together but he’d been an integral part of her life for over a year. She was comfortable with him and used to his ways. Now it seemed strange to suddenly be free again. She should have felt liberated instead she felt weird.
At least now she could explore what was out there. She’d encountered a few men on her morning walks. Most were the outdoors type and in great physical shape. Jon wasn’t exactly what you’d call chopped liver either, but the two men were business partners and friends, and that presented problems.
For the next two days Laila familiarized herself with the little town. She decided if she was going to be on Whidbey Island for the next few months then better make the most of it.
On one of her walks she came upon an outdoor cafĂ© that attracted an interesting cross section of people, primarily dog owners. The animals contentedly lounged at their owner’s feet, ears up, listening to the animated conversations surrounding them. Out of sheer curiosity, Laila wandered in with Mariner.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” the blonde who poured her coffee said.
“That’s because I’ve only been here a few days,” Laila answered, smiling back at the server.
“Where do you come from?”
“Fort Lauderdale.”
“That’s a long ways away,” a woman seated at an adjacent table leaned over, interjecting. She looked to be of mixed race. “Would you like to join me?”
“I’d love to.”
At the woman’s feet was a hyper Chihuahua who kept circling. Mariner’s tail was thumping like crazy and Laila guessed the little dog was female.
The server helped Laila move her coffee to her new friend’s table.
“I’m Dara and this is Fiesta,” the light skinned woman with uncontrollable bouncy brown hair began. “Is that beautiful dog a boy or girl?”
“Mariner’s a boy. And yours?”
“Fiesta is definitely a girl and a huge flirt. How come I haven’t seen you before?”
“Because I’ve just moved here.”
Laila explained about the house swap.
“How cool! There aren’t too many of us living on Whidbey Island,” Dara confided, lowering her voice and confirming her ethnicity. “How come you moved here of all places?”
Laila explained she was a freelance copywriter. For some inexplicable reason she felt comfortable sharing why she’d come to Washington on a whim and why she’d felt the need to find out what Hudson was up to.
“And what did you find?” Dara asked, her gray eyes widening with curiosity.
“I confirmed what I knew in my gut. He no longer wanted to continue the relationship.”
“That’s got to be tough.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Laila tried for a bright smile “I’d suspected he wanted out for a while but now rather than guessing I have closure. What do you do?”
“I play violin with the symphony.”
“As in the Seattle Symphony? How cool.”
“I love what I do.”
For the next half an hour Dara regaled her with outrageous stories of life on Whidbey, and the colorful characters that lived on the island. It turned out the two women had a lot in common including having similar upbringings. Both were children of navy men and used to picking up and moving on a whim. Finally they exchanged phone numbers and Laila prepared to head off.
“You can find me here most mornings,” Dara shouted over Fiesta’s high pitched keening. The Chihuahua was already having separation anxiety. “There’s also a Copywriting group that you might want to join.”
“Call me and we’ll schedule another time to get together,” Laila suggested, making a motion with her hands. Mariner meanwhile barked a fond farewell to his friend.
Two days later Laila was all dressed up and waiting for Jon to pick her up. He’d made reservations at a restaurant in Seattle overlooking the sound. Laila was looking forward to their evening out, so far Valentine’s Day really sucked.
All day long Laila had been forced to watch delivery vans wind their way up the mountainous roads laden with goodies. She’d tried her best not to dwell on the fact that there would be no flowers for her today, not even the yellow roses that she loved. She’d not expected to be this upset. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen the break up coming.
Mariner lay on the couch; his big black nose pressed against the glass pane, woofing and drooled intermittently. Jon must be here.
Laila opened the door to a well dressed Jon. He thrust a red rose at her. She’d always thought him handsome, but to her mind Hudson was the better looking of the two. Jon was more muscular than his partner. He had bitter chocolate skin and a goatee that he kept neatly trimmed.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetie,” he said, kissing her cheek and handing her a box of truffles. “By the way, the chocolates are compliments of Hudson.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Why would he not?”
“We broke up.”
Jon draped an arm around her shoulders. “That doesn’t mean he stopped caring about you. I hope you’re hungry. We’ll talk more over dinner.”
Carrying her rose with her, Laila followed Jon out to his Sports Utility Vehicle. They caught the ferry with just minutes to spare and after a half an hour drive arrived at the restaurant.
“This is great,” Laila gushed when they were seated at a table with a wonderful view of the sound.
The establishment was a popular one and packed with couples, some on dates and the more established clearly taken with the food.
“It’s one of my favorite restaurants,” Jon admitted. Hudson and I have business meetings here. Usually we get our choice of tables.”
Jon had to bring him up. Where was Hudson? Was he home alone, or out with her replacement? She didn’t want to think about him being with another woman. She was determined to enjoy Jon’s company and hear more about the work they were here to discuss.
“Laila you’re a million miles away,” Jon said, waving his hand in front of her face as she stared off into the distance.
“What? Sorry.”
“I was asking how you felt about coming in to work at the winery, a couple of days a week?”
Laila scrunched up her nose.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why because of Hudson? Put him aside and put on your business hat. As I mentioned before I’m not happy with the content on the website. I’d like to have the whole thing rewritten and post some more enticing pictures. This is where your graphic design and copywriting skills come into play. I also need you to design a label for the bottles and flyers to hand out. We’re also discussing distributing a monthly newsletter as well. There’s plenty of work to do.”
“Work that doesn’t require me being on the property. Why do I need to be on the premises to write copy?” Laila asked, an eyebrow raised. Seeing Hudson everyday would be agony.
“Because you need to get a real feel for the business. It just translates to better copy. Think of those royalties we’ve offered you on future wine sales. They could be quite considerable once the winery takes off.”
Laila felt the tug of temptation. Those royalties could make a big difference in her life and the exposure could put her in the league of Master Copywriters. Laila had always wanted to set up a scholarship for under privileged youth who dared to dream. While she lived comfortably, she’d never had excess money to do something really philanthropic. Going to the vineyard might also help put structure to her week. But could she deal with running into Hudson?
“Let me think about it,” she said not wanting to appear too eager.
The waiter chose that moment to appear and take their order.
“Why aren’t you out tonight with your significant other?” she fished the moment the server was out of earshot.
Jon smiled enigmatically. “What brought that up?”
“It’s Valentine’s night and we’re not exactly a couple.”
“Ever thought you might be doing me a favor, keeping me from getting depressed.”
Laila blinked away the moisture gathered in the corner of her eyes. Jon had been doing a good job of keeping engaged until now. She would have a good time if it killed her.
Buying herself time, she gazed around the crowded room. The stem of the wine glass almost snapped as she spotted the couple on the far side of the room.
“Why that rotten, lying bastard,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
“Have I offended you?”
Jonathan gazed in the direction she was looking. A man who looked a lot like Hudson had his head inches away from a woman with a mane of hair and the contents of an entire cosmetic counter on her face. A polished fingernail tapped Hudson’s cheek.
“Oops! Not good. I had no idea Hudson would be here,” Jon confirmed gently. “We can leave if you’d like.”
“No, why leave. I’m going to pretend that I don’t even see them.”
“Talia Chisolm is one of Hudson’s clients. He’s representing her in a very nasty divorce,” Jon explained, taking Laila’s hand as if that would ease the pain.
“No need to explain anything to me. Hudson and I are no longer going out, remember?”
Then why did it hurt so much seeing him with another woman? And why had she just made up her mind to accept Jon’s offer to come into the winery and work?
She wouldn’t fall apart because Hudson Godfrey had decided she was not what he wanted. There were plenty of other fish in the sea.
It was high time to go fishing.



Tuesday, November 18, 2008

EXCERPT: Leave it to Chance


Leave it to Chance

by Sherri Sand



ISBN# 1434799883

Publisher David C. Cook

Genre Women’s Fiction (with strong romance)

Copyright 2008

Published date May 2008

Where it can be purchased Any major bookstore / Amazon

Website www.sherrisand.com


Single mom of three, Sierra Montgomery is desperate to find a new job to keep from having to move back home and be smothered to death by her mother's good intentions and overbearing love. So when Sierra inherits Chance, a quirky old gelding she doesn't have a clue what to do with, she thinks her best bet may be to sell the horse to cover another month's rent--a decision that devastates her children.

Enter Ross Morgan, a handsome landscaper who just happens to have an empty barn and fenced pasture... perfect for an old horse to live out his days as the pet of three wounded kids. Ross develops a soft spot for eldest child Braden...and he just might have one for Braden's mother. But what he doesn't have is time for distractions--he's got a landscaping business to run and nursery plants to tend.

But there's just one problem. Sierra's terrified of horses and--thanks to her past--wary of attractive men. Yet seeing the way her angry son idolizes Ross and adores that old horse forces Sierra to confront her fears. Will she remain distrustful and self-reliant, or will she seek help from God and those who love her?

Chapter 9

Chance, nose-down in the feed trough, munched the container of grain Sierra dumped in to distract him. The kids were spending the evening with Michael and Gina so the task of feeding the creature had been left to her. Outside the stall she perched on a hay bale and stared down at the pitchfork lying tines up in the middle of the stall floor. She stepped off the bale and clutched the grain bucket and metal spoon from the tack room. It was the only protection she could find.
The sound of the horse’s crunching slowed the closer she got to the stall door.
Silence.
Then the sound of thick lips chasing stray granules around the stainless steel basin. Finally, heavy breathing and soft snorts as Chance made sure the container was thoroughly empty.
And still Sierra stood in front of the wide wooden door with its small barred window and black steel latch. I cannot do this. I cannot go in there with that . . . massive animal. Cold sweat dampened her forehead and prickled under her arms. But is it fair to endanger Chance? The pitchfork could cripple him if he stepped on it and freaked out. Then they’d have to put him to sleep and it’d be her fault. The kids would hate her. Come on, Sierra. Buck up!
Sierra lifted the latch. Chance swung his head around, ears forward. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Flattened ears signaled danger, didn’t they?
Sierra took a step forward, then stopped motionless. Uh-oh, one ear forward, one back. Okay, two forward. One more step, then another halt. It felt like a sick game of Simon Says. An eternity later she reached the grain bin. Chance’s head was lowered somewhat, the perfect height to grip the halter and move his hind end away from the pitchfork. Sierra reached for the black halter. Up went the head. She dropped her arm slightly. Chance faced the wall, one baleful eye staring at her, left ear flat. How do I get out of here?
Sierra started to back out, but Chance matched her turn, angling his rump toward her. Paralyzed, she glanced about the stall, looking for some kind of help. Her gaze slid over the powerful hooves mere feet from her body. A picture of Molly flashed into her mind, lying in the hospital bed, deathly still, monitors beeping as her life drained slowly away. Sierra’s breath came in short gasps. Sweat welled up through her pores and flashes of heat zipped through her body. Sierra inched toward the rear of the stall. The door was closer to her right, but she’d have to move farther in line with the deadly hammers attached to the ends of Chance’s hind legs.
Chance tossed his head, Sierra screamed and sank into soiled straw, covering her head with her arms, waiting for the thrashing of hooves. But all she heard was a swish of hay. Her nerves sensed a void left by the retreat of the large warm horse body. She inched her arms down and sneaked a look over the top of them. Chance was gone.
The only sound was the ring of hoof on concrete as he trotted toward the end of the barn and out toward the corral. That and the throat clearing that came from just outside the stall. “You all right, miss?”
Sierra raised her head. A white-haired gentleman stared at her in concern.
What could she say? I thought I was being attacked by a horse that no one seems to think is dangerous?
Then she saw the smile he was trying to hold back.
She gave a self-conscious grin. “Did you see that wild beast go tearing out of here?”
He slapped his leg and chuckled. “I haven’t seen a sight like that since Starfire tossed ol’ Ross onto the manure pile.”
The man leaned forward and held his hand out. The skin was rough and weathered, like an old dried apple. It reminded her of a grandpa’s hand. A bit of comforting cushion behind the calluses.
He was on the short side, not much taller than Sierra, but he held himself with a presence that filled the space around him. His voice boomed, resonating through the barn. “You must be the boarder Ross told me about.”
“Oh?” She’d like to have been a mouse in the corner during that conversation.
He chuckled, nodding his head at her expression. “It wasn’t as bad as you think.”
Sierra gave him a slight grin and raised an eyebrow. “And what do I think?”
He brought his arms together, one hand gripping the other wrist. He tipped back on his heels, like he was settling in for a good conversation. The playful twinkle was her clue. “You think that Ross wants to make glue of that old horse out there.”
Glue? That raised both eyebrows. Glue was made from horses? The implication lifted her hands to her hips, both of them fisted. He wanted her horse dead? She understood the loss of the plant, but to kill an animal over it—
“And sooner rather than later.” He was still nodding, the twinkle deepening. “But you’d be wrong.”
“I would?” Glue wasn’t made from horses?
“Yes. Ya see, ol’ Ross, he gets a little impatient at times. Downright testy at others.” He shook his head sadly, as if poor old Ross needed sympathy. “In particular when things get a little out of hand.”
“Like his mother’s prized bush getting eaten.”
He nodded approval at her understanding. “Ex—actly.” He drew the word out. “He needs a little time to adjust to having people underfoot.”
“And horses.”
He winked at her, the dip of his chin indicating Chance through the big doors in the corral. “They’re more people than you know.”
He changed posture, leaning an elbow against the stall. “Now when I got here, it looked like that horse was givin’ you a lesson.”
Sierra felt her forehead crease. “No, I . . .” She stopped. She wasn’t about to tell him she’d been scared to death.
He looked at her, his eyes reading right through to the words she wasn’t saying. “You were scared.” Only it came out “skeered.”
She waited, not admitting anything.
“Now, there’s nothing wrong with being scared. You just cain’t let the horse know it.” He nodded toward a black rope hanging from a nail on the wall. “Now get that lead rope.”
“Why? What do you want me to do with it?” Her throat tightened, making it hard to swallow.
“You’re goin’ to teach that horse a lesson.”
She laughed. A twittering, reedy sound. Totally unlike her. She’d never had a high-pitched girlie laugh in her life.
“Um. . . Mr. uh—”
“You can call me Sid.”
“Sid. Okay, Sid.” She firmed her stance. “I’m not going out there.” She punctuated the words with two short jabs toward the corral.
“Well, now. That does put you in a pur-dicament.” He stretched the word out while rubbing his variegated white and gray stubble.
Sierra lifted her chin. “The only predicament I have is how I’m going to get rid of that horse.”
“What’s his name? Lucky?” He raised wildly long eyebrows for clarification. The strands looked like free-range caterpillars that had crawled over each other in a crazed mish-mash.
“Chance.”
He pursed his lips, then sucked them in as if he was about to deliver dire news “You have kids?”
She nodded. “Three.”
He shook his head and drew in a breath. “See, ol’ Chance out there, he’s not good for much anymore. Too old.” He leaned his whole back against the stall door. “Not good for more than the glue factory.”
There really is a horse glue factory? The kids definitely needed to wash their hands after crafts.
“But to your kids, I’m sure he’s finer than old Black Beauty himself.” She knew he was right. A sinking sensation started up near her shoulders and traveled down through her chest, compressing itself into a tight ball in her stomach.
“Once a kid sets his heart on a horse, you never can tear the dream out of him. You might not see it, but it’s there. Not many kids get a chance to lasso those dreams and ride them. You sell that horse–” He clicked his teeth— “and you might not get that opportunity back.”
A trembling started in her right leg. He probably couldn’t see it, but it was there, all the nerves screaming, “Run!”
She swallowed. But thoughts of her kids kept her from backpedaling to the van. She stared out toward the corral and that . . . horse. She would do this for her kids. Their hearts had been broken enough.
Sierra gave him a look to tell him she wasn’t deceived by his method. “I’m surprised you haven’t been snatched up by some telemarketing service. You’d be selling vacuums by the truckload.”
His raspy laughter reverberated through the old barn.
A few minutes later they stood side by side, fifteen feet from Chance, who chomped through the grassy corral as if they weren’t there. But Sierra knew better. Chance was already plotting his strategy to swing that hind end around. She didn’t need to understand horses to know what was coming next. A swift kick to the forehead.
A tingle started in her hands. She shouldn’t be out here. If she ended up permanently comatose, the kids would end up living with Michael and Gina full time.
Sid pointed to the horse as if Sierra couldn’t see him. “Now, you gotta show him who’s boss.”
Sierra threw him a look. “He already knows.”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s what we gotta change. You need to decide who’s boss. You or that grass eater. Think of him as a large lawnmower. You don’t mince words with a machine and ask it if it wants to mow the lawn. It doesn’t. It wants to be left alone in the garage.”
What was it with men and machines? This was not going to work.
He continued, “You gotta grab it by the handle and point it where you want to go.” He pointed again. “It’s the same with ol’ Chance there. You gotta show him you mean business.”
Sierra looked from the large head to the tail. “And by grabbing him you mean what?”
“Take him by the rope and lead him like you mean it.”
“He won’t let me put the rope on him.”
The old man put both hands up the same way she’d seen Braden’s baseball coach do with the boys when he was short on patience and long on exasperation. “You don’t ask him if he wants the halter on. You tell him you’re doing it.”
A conversation with a horse?
He grabbed the rope from her limp hand. “Watch.” A slight limp emphasized his short choppy steps. If Sierra hadn’t been so nervous she might have smiled.
And there he was leading Chance back to her, grinning like all she needed was his helpful demonstration. Sierra realized she was walking backwards and she made herself stop, her toes digging into the soles of her shoes. Sid and Chance halted uncomfortably close. So close that when Chance turned his head and blew out a breath, Sierra got the warm moist air right in her face. It was like being pasted with wet grass.
He held the lead out. “Take him for a walk around the pasture.”
Words failed her.
Sid, apparently not respectful of personal boundaries, grabbed Sierra’s hand and wrapped her fingers around the tethered lead rope. “Walk him.” He motioned with his hand toward the far fence in the opposite direction Chance was facing.
It was a faceoff. Sierra stared at Chance. Big nose high, Chance stared right back.
“He won’t bite.”
Chance’s bottom lip quivered. Sierra took a half-step in reverse. “I think he disagrees.”
Sid laughed. “Now, lead the dad-blamed horse to the fence.”
Sierra went. More to get away from the big teeth right behind those lips. Chance followed. It was beautiful. She was actually leading the horse. They reached the fence, turned and Chance followed obediently at her heels. Then Chance’s chin bumped her shoulder. Sierra glanced back, right at the hairy lip that hid those great big chompers. He was much too close.
Nervous, Sierra picked up the tempo, preferring a taut three feet of rope between them. Chance lengthened his step and the rope slackened. She stumbled over a tight clump of grass and her knees hit the dirt. Momentum kept her stumbling and scraping forward, until she regained her footing in a fast walk, still holding the lead rope. Sierra threw another look over her shoulder. Chance trotted now, his mane frisking against his neck. Sierra bolted. Sid was waving his arms at her. She had to reach him. Chance was an out of control locomotive bearing down on her.
Sierra reached Sid, threw the rope at him and slid in behind his back, crouching to her knees as she quivered. Chance thundered to a stop, snorting puffs of smoke.
“Are you okay?” The shout made her turn and she slowly rose. Ross cleared the fence and ran through the tall grass toward them. He was actually sprinting. Like he was scared. For her? It had been ages since anyone had been afraid for her. She took a step back and bumped into Sid.
Ross stopped directly in front of her. Crowding into her personal space, his gaze darting over her as he checked for damage. He was making her nervous, and if he tried to run his hands up and down her limbs she might have to whack him. It was all she could do to not move back, but Sid and that horse were still behind her.
She wrapped her arms around her waist instead. “I’m fine.” At least the distraction had steadied her legs.
He ignored her and turned on Sid. “What on earth are you doing?”
Sid patted Chance’s neck. “We’re just getting the pair acquainted.”
Sierra rolled her eyes. She was not one-half of a pair with that beast, and getting acquainted was not what that near disaster had been.
Ross was still breathing hard. “By letting her loose in a field with a horse? Sid, she’s terrified of them.” Ross shot her a look, then stared at Sid again. “Come on, Sid.” He had his hands on his hips and annoyance wore grooves deep into his cheeks beneath snapping dark eyes.
Braden told him she was afraid? “I am not terrified of horses.” Fearful, yes, the kind that came from first-hand experience.
Remnants of frustration lingered in his eyes. “That wasn’t you hightailing it across the field?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Well, when a beast is charging you from behind, what would you do?”
Sid and Ross both glanced at Chance, then each other. Sid didn’t even try to stop the chuckles. Ross looked at the ground, then raised his head. She couldn’t tell if he was mad or laughing at her. “It’s okay to be afraid, Sierra. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be out here, pressured by him.” He jerked a thumb at Sid, then rounded on the older man again. “And don’t try to tell me you didn’t talk her into this, Sid. You know better.”
“Ross, I’m an adult. I can handle it,” Sierra jumped in.
His look conveyed disbelief. “By letting yourself get talked into something you don’t want to do?”
She pulled her jacket tighter around her body. “It worked out fine.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I would feel responsible if something happened.”

Ross stood in the barnyard after Sierra left. Cold air soaked into his denim jeans, making the fabric stiff and rough against his legs. But he didn’t move, not even when her car was long out of sight. The question hammered him: What was he doing getting wrapped up in her problems? Sierra Montgomery was one big complication. Single mom, ticked at God, messy ex-husband, and three lonely kids who’d attach to anyone she got involved with. He saw her eyes again. Vulnerable. Behind the fear lay uncertainty and pain. Definitely not what he needed at this stage in his life. It wasn’t hard to bring the protective shield up. He’d had plenty of practice. He walked back toward his house.
Ross stomped the mud off his shoes and let himself in through the back door. He wasn’t surprised to find Sid at his kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee. Another mug sat waiting. Ross slid into the chair across from him and took a sip of the steaming brew. Strong and fortifying. Sid’s coffee embodied his character.
“You certainly know how to treat a lady, Sid. I still can’t believe you turned her loose with that horse.”
Sid didn’t laugh. Just sort of smiled, his eyes faraway. “That gal’s had a lot of hurt.”
“Like most of the human population.” Ross wanted to change the subject.
“That girl is the ‘human population’ that is before us right now.”
“It doesn’t sound like she wants our help, Sid.”
The grizzled eyebrows glowered down at him. “Some cries are harder to hear than others.”
Ross knew better than to argue, but from what he could tell Sierra didn’t seem to be sending any kind of telegram, other than one that said to leave her alone.
The older man rubbed his jaw, then moved it back and forth the way he did when he was really chewing on something. “What that girl needs is some hope. You’re always saying you need a real bookkeeper.”
He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach “I was just teasing you, Sid. I think the system we have works just fine.” The words came out fast and he swallowed hard. “And how is doing my books going to give her hope?”
“I’m jest gettin’ that feelin’ right here, son. In the spot God speaks to.” Sid poked a finger over his heart.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She—it’s complicated, Sid.”
Sid gave him a thoughtful look. “Have my feelin’s ever been wrong?”
Ross leaned his forearms on the table, pressing his fingertips together. “What if I get saddled with her as my bookkeeper and it’s just indigestion this time?”
Sid scratched through the hair above his ear, his right cheek hitched up in a grimace of regret. “Well, I’ve been meaning to tell you anyway, but my niece Leorna wants me to come back for a visit and what with getting that new pony Traitor in, I’m not going to be available to help sort the bills this month.”
Ross took a breath.
The old scoundrel continued, “Looks like you’ll be needin’ some help.”
“I’ll manage.” Ross bought some time with another gulp of coffee.
Sid rolled the stub of hay to the other side of his mouth. “And just how will you do that?” He shook his head. “I’d hate to see where you’re at in five months.” The next words were directed toward the floor. “Overpaying the nursery, underbidding jobs. Be a cryin’ shame after all that hard work. Especially with you working so hard on that Alex Cranwell job.”
Ross shook his head, feeling a grin tickle his lips, though he tried to hide it. “Nicely done, Sid. Though I didn’t know the Lord was into strong-arming people.” He should have covered his ears and locked the door when he heard Sierra’s screams from the field. One beautiful brunette with vulnerable brown eyes was a distraction he couldn’t afford.
“Yer forgettin’ Jonah and the whale. The Lord isn’t afraid to use a little muscle now and then.”
Ross tried one last time. “She probably isn’t qualified to do the bookkeeping.”
Sid folded his hands across his belly. “How is Mr. Cranwell doing these days?”
Ross scowled at his friend. “Fine, I’ll ask her. But all bets are off if she says no.” Something Sid had said worked its way from the back of his mind. “What’s this about Leorna wanting you to visit? You haven’t been to Kansas since you moved here.”
Sid scratched the back of his neck and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We’ve kept in close touch.” He cleared his throat. “She thinks I ought to move back to be with family.”
Ross laughed. “Well, I guess she’s in for a surprise there.”
Sid chuckled, but kept his eyes on the floor.
“You’re not thinking about it, are you?”
Sid’s fingers bounced on the table and he gave him a brief smile. “Not anytime soon, son. Say, I better get back and check on the ponies.”

Monday, November 17, 2008

FEATURED AUTHOR: Kayona Ebony Brown


Kayona Ebony Brown was raised in Washington, DC. Her innate ability to portray reality with an artist’s edge was honed in the Literary and Media Arts Department of Duke Ellington School of the Arts. Tenth Letter is the debut title of several books and screenplays being produced by her company, Brown’sTone Industries Incorporated – each adhering to a policy of delivering socially responsible (creative and non-negative) art. Prior to launching Brown’sTone Industries Incorporated, Brown was an on-air personality and Music Director for public radio.

Tenth Letter

J is independent, career-driven, single and proud of it. She’s a journalist for a popular magazine and her latest assignment is an artist/entrepreneur whose D.C. gallery opening drew major attention. Surprisingly, she finds him quiet. Aloof. Cold. J really wants to know why he’s acting so arctic on such a hot night for his career. Always the one to get the exclusive, she was up for the challenge to break the ice. What she didn’t know, though, was that she would find herself melting. Can J handle the spotlight? Or, will she write it off as just another one-night affair?

TO READ AN EXCERPT CLICK HERE

What would you like your readers to take away from your book?

Honestly, anything that can help them in their life somehow. TENTH LETTER is a story that offers a fresh perspective; it uses three-dimensional characters to bring that perspective to life. So it’s a story full of messages and perhaps advice. I don’t want to point out specific things that I think someone should take away from the story. But I do want them to take something away from it after they put it down.

What did you learn while writing this book?

It’s funny because the writing process has always been therapeutic for me and I think that’s something I might’ve discovered while writing this book. But it was something I discovered in hindsight. Living vicariously through self-created people and putting myself in their situations evokes thoughts that I wouldn’t have otherwise even considered.

What is the hardest part about the writing business?

Well, I have a problem with focusing on what I don’t have instead of what I do have. It’s something I’m learning to deal with right now, but it’s hard. As an entrepreneur, it’s easy to say “I could do this or that if I had more money…” Every business could benefit from having more money. The hardest part for me has been realizing the potential in both the tangible and intangible resources that I have.

What one thing about writing do you wish other non-writers would understand?

I’m just a messenger. My writing comes from a place much more significant than me. I don’t just say, “Okay, I’m going to write now.” I’ve tried and it doesn’t work the same. I don’t know about other writers, but I don’t just spit out anything for you. I kinda wish more non-writers could tell the difference.

Our theme this month is Time Management. How do you do to manage your writing time?

I don’t. Like I said, what I do really isn’t about me. I can’t dictate when I write; I just have to be prepared to write when I’m supposed to. For me, nothing else is really more important than this. Everything else right now is secondary, so if anything, time for other stuff has to be adjusted according to my writing.

What are three things you wish you'd known before you reached where you are now?

I try not to really focus on what was or wasn’t a product of the past. What’s interesting though is that while writing TENTH LETTER, I had the ability to focus solely on the present, which is something I’m trying to get better at doing now. I didn’t think about how I was going to publish the book or how I would market it; I focused only on writing what I needed to write at that very moment. Nothing else. So it’s weird because, as I look back, I realize that I was present-focused then unconsciously; however, it’s a trait that I’m consciously trying to practice now in many areas of my life.

Was there ever a time in your writing career you thought of quitting?


I think about quitting all the time. As I mentioned before, I sometimes consider the things I don’t have, like the resources to make this thing go further than it has. But one of my greatest influences said, “When it feels like living’s harder than dying, for me givin’ up’s way harder than trying…” And it’s true. I can’t stop because I don’t know just how close I could be to the goal.

Do you have any advice for the aspiring writer?

One thing I’m still learning is balance. When you love to do something so much, it can become almost addictive; you want to do it all the time, and then once you start it’s hard to stop, you don’t want to sleep… But during those times for me when I’m not supposed to be writing, (between projects when I don’t have anything to write at the moment) I can get frustrated. Doing any one thing too much without a significant break can be detrimental. The time you spend not writing is just as integral to your art as the time you spend doing it. My best stuff comes when my tank has been refueled and I’m refreshed. I would advise any new writer to remember that you are not a machine. Then again, even machines need breaks.

What are you thankful for this year?

I have huge, huge dreams of doing great things and being a great person. What I’m most thankful for this year is that I’m not there yet. I hate to admit this, but the truth is: I know that I need the struggle. As much as I hate it, I need it. It’s better than a mundane 9 to 5.

Five questions about books:

One book you've read more than once.

When the Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd. What’s funny is that she wrote that book from the perspective of a woman going through a “mid-life crisis” situation. I was twenty-four when I first read it and I felt like she was speaking to me and everything that I was going through. It really helped me to understand the necessity of patience, which is something I think most ambitious people have a problem with. I am reading the book again now and I am still applying her advice.

One book you couldn't put down until you finished:

Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. I picked this book, but the truth is that I really could’ve picked just about anything by Don Miller. I love this guy. But I identified with this book when I read it because it was a book of writings that focused on Don’s effort to understand God, and understand his own questions about faith, which was exactly what I was doing at the time.

One book that made you laugh:

Naked by David Sedaris. I just love Sedaris’ voice, his cynicism and sarcasm… He’s just great at telling a first-person narrative. It’s like talking on the phone with a friend who is recounting something that he went through. And the great thing is: you don’t feel like you have to have been there to really get his humor.

One book that made you cry:

Beloved by Toni Morrison. Okay, I didn’t really cry, but if I were to cry while or after reading a book, it would probably be this one.

One book you wish you'd written:

I don’t really wish I’d written someone else’s stuff, but I really appreciate where other writers took their art. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison is just one that stands out to me. This is the type of stuff I want to write. It’s impactful, relevant even over generations; it’s significant and meaningful. And then don’t get me started on the style and voice…

How readers can get in contact with you (mail, email, website):

http://www.tenthletternovel.com/


kayona@kebonybrown.com

3401 12th Street NE #4418
Washington, DC 20017

Tenth Letter contestA- All you have to do is send a response to the question: ARE WOMEN THE NEW MEN? to contest@tenthletternovel.com and you'll have a chance to win a copy of the book. And for every book sold, a tree is planted!

Friday, November 14, 2008

FEATURED AUTHOR: Elaine Overton


Elaine Overton currently resides in the Detroit area with her son. She attended a local business college before entering the military, and serving in the Gulf War.

She is an administrative assistant, currently working for an automotive industry supplier and is an active member of Romance Writers of America.

Seducing the Matchmaker

As the owner of Love Unlimited, a matchmaking firm, Noelle Brown has an enviable track record. When world-renowned and drop-dead gorgeous architect Derrick Brandt graces her doorway, she's incredibly pleased. Hooking him up will raise her agency's profile and give it an incredible public-relations boost. But after a few moments of conversation with the arrogant Derrick, Noelle understands why the tabloids have labeled him the most ineligible bachelor in the city.

Derrick needs to find himself a wife—a woman who understands his demanding career. He's stunned to find himself captivated by the sexy siren Noelle. As the sparks of passion heat up between them, they both wonder if their relationship is indeed the perfect match.…


What would you like your readers to take away from your book?

That sometimes what you want and what you need are not the same thing.

What did you learn while writing this book?

Actually, it was more a reaffirmation of something I already believed. That the essence of love that is reflected in romance novels is that idea of hope and possibility. That persistent belief in happy-ever-after even in a world that gives us so few. It’s why I love writing romance, and probably always will.

What is the hardest part about the writing business?

Rejection. Writers are artistic spirits, and we can be as sensitive and temperamental as any painter or musician. So, receiving that little form letter hurts, but that is why you have to believe in yourself, because its’ so easy to lose faith.

What one thing about writing do you wish other non-writers would understand?

That’s its actual work! I’ve encountered so many people who seem to think you just sit down, write a book, and ta-da! You’re suddenly rich and famous! As you know, that couldn’t be further from the truth. There’s research and editing, and lots and lots of drafts before you actually get something workable, and then even if you get it published, it takes years to build a career.

Our theme this month is Time Management. How do you do to manage your writing time?

Before I started writing, I was probably the most undisciplined, unorganized person I know, and I still am in some ways - lol. But, I figured out pretty quick that if I wanted to succeed, I needed to get my act together. So, I started creating an outline for each book, and with each book the outline got more and more detailed. As a result, I can sit down and pretty much know what I want to accomplish – instead of just sitting staring at a blank screen. As a single mother, I’ve found the pre-dawn hours are best for me. I wake up fresh while my son is still sleep, put on a pot of coffee and write from 4-6am – when you know what you want to write you can get a lot done in 2 hours. Then in the evening, I can give my son my full attention.

What are three things you wish you'd known before you reached where you are now?

1.) Stress serves no purpose.

2.) Defend your work. Editors are not so closed minded they can’t accept an opinion different from theirs.

3.) There needs to be a conscious choice of what you want to get out of your writing career. Is it just a part-time hobby – or do you want to write full time? Then set your goals according to what you want to achieve. Don’t just wander along, and hope it all works out – like I did.

Was there ever a time in your writing career you thought of quitting?

Yes, of course. I think we all go through that – usually right after the first time you get rejected. But, for most of us writing is an addiction. You couldn’t stop if you wanted to. And if you do, you feel like something is missing.

Do you have any advice for the aspiring writer?

Yes, as cliché as it may sound you HAVE to continually believe in your own talent and be true to your own voice. Do not spend time worrying about what other writers are doing, you are unique, your writing style is unique to you. So, STOP TRYING TO WRITE JUST LIKE SUCH-IN-SUCH. Be you!

What are you thankful for this year?

Every moment of every day. God is awesome, and He is revealed in so many little ways we take for granted.

Five questions about books:

I’m pretty much a romance novel junkie, and although I write contemporary, I have a definite preference for historicals. So, keep in mind these are just the first ones that come to mind, although there are too many to name.

One book you’ve read more than once.

Topaz by Beverly Jenkins

One book you couldn’t put down until you finished.

Comfort of a Man by Adrianne Byrd.

One book that made you laugh.

A Kiss to Remember by Teresa Medeiros

One book that made you cry.

The Conqueror by Judith French

One book you wish you'd written.

Honestly, I can’t think of any particular book that I wish I’d written. Although, there are many, many I’ve enjoyed reading.

How can readers get in contact with you? (mail, email, website):

You can reach me at www.elaineoverton.com / email: Elaine@elaineoverton.com – I love reader email!

EXCERPT: Seducing The Matchmaker


SHE FACED THE CHALLENGE OF HER CAREER

As the owner of Love Unlimited, a matchmaking service, Noelle Brown’s firm has an enviable track record. When world-renowned and drop-dead gorgeous architect Derrick Brandt graces her doorway, she’s incredibly pleased. Hooking him up will raise her agency’s profile, and give it an incredible public relations boost. But after a few moments of conversation with the arrogant Derrick, Noelle understands why the tabloids have labeled him the most in-eligible bachelor in the city.

Derrick needs to find himself a wife - a woman who understands his demanding career. He’s stunned to find himself captivated by the sexy siren Noelle. As the sparks of passion heats up between them, they both wonder if their relationship is indeed the perfect match


ONE

Early December in Philadelphia, PA
Shortly after the first snow . . .

“I know what you must be thinking, Mr. Brandt.”
I doubt that, Derrick Brandt thought, sitting in one of the comfortable, overstuffed guest chairs facing the neatly organized desk that belonged to Noelle Brown, the owner of Love Unlimited, a small but unusually successful matchmaking service.
“You’re thinking why Love Unlimited and not one of the more popular online dating agencies. I have three words for you,” she lifted three elegantly shaped fingers, “the personal touch. That one-on-one human contact that simply cannot be determined with questionnaires and evaluations. It’s been my experience that any long term relationship is only forty percent compatibility and sixty percent chemistry. And if the chemistry is right, it’s instantaneous. So, that leaves the other forty percent.”
All the while she spoke Derrick struggled to keep his eyes above the low cut neckline of her mint greet silk blouse. He unconsciously licked his lips imagining the bountiful treasure that lay just beneath the thin material.
Try as he may, he simply could not help himself, as his eyes repeatedly drifted south. She was so wonderfully endowed, and he was such a devoted breast man.
Our methods are not always what one would consider traditional.” She stretched her body reaching around to the credenza behind her chair, and Derrick allowed his hungry eyes to roam over her taunt outline. Although the rest of her was hidden behind the desk, he already knew she was mostly legs. Long legs he could wrap around his waist. When she’d greeted him in the office lobby his first impression had been that of a luscious Amazon.
“But sometimes, finding just the right match takes something more than the conventional resources.” She placed a brochure on the desk in front of him. “As you can see, we offer complete customer satisfaction.”
She leaned forward to open the brochure, and the innocuous action thrust her bust up and outward in an irresistibly tempting display. “If we are unable to find a match for you within six months, you get an additional six months free. Fair enough?”
Derrick nodded mindlessly. The sum of his cognitive abilities was suddenly, otherwise directed—riveted actually—on the lush brown mounds presented before him, separated by only a few inches of space the desk top spanned. The smooth, velvety, flawless skin was as rich and creamy as a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter day.
If he leaned forward just a little, he could cup them in his hands, he could lift them to his face. He could inhale her decadent perfume which even now called to him from across the room. He could run his tongue over every curve and contour, even through the thin silk material of her blouse he could suck her into his mouth—
“We want the same thing.”
Guiltily his eyes shot up to her face.
“To find the right woman for you.” She continued blithely, “And if you allow me to do what I do best, I will do exactly that. Do you have any question?”
Derrick had questions alright. Was she a moaner or a screamer? The thought brought to mind images so provocative he felt the stirring of desire from his brain to the seat of his trousers. Most of the men of his acquaintance were attracted to the small, petite women, who graced magazine covers and television ads, but Derrick had always preferred the more robust, more rubenisque styled female body.
While his buddies were drooling over Halle Berry, he was having wet dreams about Queen Latifah. He shifted in his chair trying to hide his growing erection.
“Mr. Brandt?”
Derrick swallowed hard and tried to bring his mind back to the matter at hand. “No, no questions.” He cleared his throat loudly. “So, what do I have to do to get started?”
“Well, first I need to get some basic information.” She reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a file. “Just a short interview to give me a better understanding of the qualities you feel are most important.”
She clicked her retractable pen, and opened the file. “Let’s start with physical attributes. What do you find attractive in a woman?”
“Large breast.”
Derrick watched as she scribbled rapid notes in the file. “Okay, anything else?”
“She needs to be a good breeder.”
Her pen paused over the page for several seconds. “A good breeder?”
“Yes. Wide hips, sturdy pelvis, that sort of thing.”
“Hmmm, oookaaay.” The scribbling continued. “Okay then, how about looks?”
“Nice looking, but I don’t want a woman who attracts too much attention from other men.” His eyes narrowed in painful remembrance of the last great beauty he’d allowed too close. “I don’t share.”
She scribbled something on the page before her. “So, let’s say average beauty. And educational level?”
“Smart enough to know not to betray me.” Derrick crossed his ankle over his knee to pick off a piece of lint that had gotten trapped in his perfectly creased pant leg cuff.
“Hmmm . . . ” Her thin brows crinkled as she continued to scribble. “And personality?”
“Good with kids, not too demanding of my time, and financial self sufficient.” He snorted. “If I wanted to take care of something, I’d adopt a puppy.”
Uneasily Derrick watched as she sat the pen down, slowly closed the manila file, and folded her hands together on top of it.
“Mr. Brandt, I was under the impression you were looking for a permanent relationship, a wife.”
“I am.”
“Then, I must say, I’m a little surprised by your response so far.” She reopened the file, and glanced down at what she’d written. “An average looking woman, who will apparently spend her life in fear of your wrath, be at your beck-and-call. Not to mention, she is expected to fully support herself, despite your wealth and resources.” She glanced at him.” “I have to admit, I can’t think of a single woman in my client profiles who fits such a description.”
“Well, I guess you are going to have to expand your client profile list.”
She shut the file once more, and sat back in the chair. “Or . . . you’re going to have to find another matchmaker.”
Derrick flinched inward, knowing he was about to blow this interview that meant much more to him that he could ever let on. He nervously picked at his pant leg as his mind calculated the best way forward.
On some level, Derrick understood that despite his financial success, Love Unlimited was probably his best chance at romantic happiness.
For the past ten years, Derrick had dated countless women in the pursuit of one—just one . . . the right one, and had yet to find her.
What he had found instead was his fiancĂ©e, Anita, in bed with his college roommate, Chris. He’d also found, Carol, the stewardess who stole his Amex card and took a group of girlfriends on a two week, twenty-five hundred dollar vacation to Cancun. As pathetic as it is, Derrick knew in his heart, he would’ve forgiven her for the theft. Twenty-five hundred dollars wasn’t even a dent in his wallet. No, it wasn’t the theft that ended the relationship, but the advance case of craps she brought back from the trip that he found unforgivable.
Then there was Mira, a reporter for the Philadelphia Herald, whom he discovered was willing to do just about anything, include sleeping with a man she apparently despised, all for the sake of getting enough inside information for a front page expose.
Opening the morning paper to find his pillow talk smeared across the front page, was a particularly painful blow. Especially, considering the engagement ring he’d purchased the day before.
There were others, many other failed relationships, with fault lying on both sides to some varying degree. Derrick had almost given up hope of every finding a compatible woman to spend his life with. Then, about a month ago, Camille had dropped a small article on his desk. It was a Lifestyle piece about a small, local matchmaking service boasting a one hundred percent compatibility rate among its clientele.
From the moment he walked through the glass double doors of Love Unlimited that morning Derrick had known there was something special about the proprietor, Noelle Brown. Although, he couldn’t fully identify the sensation, he instinctually trusted her. And Derrick was a man who took instinctual reactions seriously. Most of his present success could be owed to instincts.
Along with an astute understanding of human nature that had served him well in business, if not his personal relationships, Derrick had overcome incredible odds to become one of the most successful architects in Philadelphia.
Now, all he sought to complete his life was the one missing piece of the puzzle , someone trustworthy to share it with. A woman with the social grace and poise of his business partner, Camille. The emotional openness of a rose in bloom. And the carnal appetite of a nymphomaniac.
Looking at the beauty sitting across from him, Derrick couldn’t help wondering about Noelle Brown’s carnal appetites. His eyes flashed to the small solitaire diamond wedding ring on her finger. Lucky Mr. Brown.
He cleared his throat, and sat up straighter. “Why don’t you tell me which part of what I’ve said you find the most difficult to work with.”
She gestured to the file. “All of it. But, if I had to pick one specific thing it would be the financial thing. I can’t think of a single woman who would agree to marry you, and then be expected to continue to support herself completely. You’re one of the wealthiest men in Philadelphia, and a marriage is a partnership, Mr. Brandt.”
She lifted a knowing eyebrow. “And the ‘smart enough not to betray me’ thing. Quite frankly, that statement causes me a great deal of alarm.”
Hearing it repeated back like that, it did sound bad, Derrick thought. Eloquence was never his strong suit. He knew that if he ever found the right woman, he would worship her with lavish gifts everyday and ravenous attention of his body every night. He would hold her as the dearest thing in his life, considering the many years he’d waited for her.
As always, he didn’t have the right words to express his feelings. A problem that had haunted him his whole life, and had cost him greatly on more than one occasion.
Camille was always telling him that he had no filter. That something in the brain that kept people from saying exactly what they were thinking, seem to be lacking in Derrick. It always had. That lack of tack on his part had also contributed to bringing him to this point in his life. Where he was requiring professional help in the most basic of human pursuits. The hunt for a mate.
“Maybe I didn’t articulate my thoughts properly.” He frowned. “Naturally, I would support my wife, with the usual contingencies. But, as for the selection process, let’s be perfectly clear. I won’t allow you to present me with a handful of money grubbing, promiscuous, opportunist.”
For several seconds, Noelle sat staring at him in silence.
Derrick stared back.
Finally, she blinked and released a deep sigh. “I will probably regret asking, but feel I must. What exactly do you mean by the ‘usual contingencies’?”
“Pre-nuptial agreements, of course.”
“Of course.” She muttered, with another deep sigh. She re-opened the file and started writing.
***
Every instinct in Noelle wanted to tell the illustrious Derrick Brandt to get the hell out of her office. The problem is that she could not afford to. She needed him, as much as he obviously needed her. Of course, she wasn’t about to let him know that.
For a few moments, she’d been terrified that he’d take her up on the offer to find another matchmaker. Thankfully, he’d stayed. Now, the question was . . . what to do with him?
The man was a Neanderthal, no doubt about it. But, he was a wealthy, influential well-connected Neanderthal. And if handled right, he could be just the boon her growing agency needed.
In the thirteen months since she’d opened her doors, she’d successfully matched almost forty couples. And of that forty, twenty-nine had married, and the other eleven were still together. It was an enviable record by any standard. Despite the lofty name of the agency, Love Unlimited, her resources were indeed limited and had been concentrated on the day-to-day business of running the agency, leaving little for the kind of advertising and publicity Noelle would’ve liked. With one positive endorsement, Derrick Brandt could change all that. That is, if she could stomach the man long enough to find a woman willing to put up with him.
She finished her noted and turned the file in his direction. “Okay, I just need you to complete this application, and these disclosures.” She flipped through the pages. “Sign, here and here.”
His eyes shot up to meet hers, and she was once again startled by the unusual flickers of gold that surrounded the light green pupils, both colors in stark contrast to those long, lush black lashes. It’s ridiculous for a man to have lashes that long, she thought.
The unique color was not the most unsettling thing about his eyes. It was the open window to his every thought that they expressed. Whatever Derrick Brandt was thinking or feeling was plainly expressed there in those eyes.
“I don’t sign anything without reading it first.” He sat back, and once again crossed his ankle over his knee and settled in to read the file. Derrick smoothed his silk tie, reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a pen. Using it as a guide, he began reading. Noelle frowned at his downcast head, still unsure just what to make of him.
Granted, he was probably the most beautiful specimen of masculinity she’d ever laid eyes on. Granted, he was rich as King Solomon and showed flashes of intelligence that bordered on brilliant, but still with all that going for him . . . it was hard to like the man. It all started with that smile.
Noelle felt her blood beginning to boil once more just remembering. Her secretary, Terri, had called off because her daughter had come down with the flu. She understood the woes of a sick child, but that created a problem considering Noelle had five appointments scheduled for the day. The first and most important of which was scheduled to arrive any minute.
She was scrambling around on Terri’s desk looking for the number to the temporary agency she occasionally used, when the glass doors to her suite was thrown open, and he walked in. Derrick Brandt.
Noelle immediately recognized him. His face was in the paper almost every week. The photographic images did not do him justice. He stood tall and broad shouldered, and moved with the precision of a dancer. His handsome face look chiseled from stone, all sharp angles and perfect lines. His light colored almond shaped eyes were in startling contract to his rich brown skin. A sharp nose and heart shaped pink lips completed the exquisite picture. Looking at the model perfect man, one would never guess he got his start in life as a mailroom clerk for a Philadelphia architectural firm. A firm he now owned.
Realizing her first and most important appointment of the day had arrived. Noelle stood straight and walked around the desk with her hand extended in greeting, fully prepared to be her professional best. As her eyes met his, she stopped in her tracks with several feel still between them.
His hazel-green eyes twinkled with wolfish delight, as he openly, blatantly, and completely without shame ogled her! There was no other word for it.
Noelle stood stunned. No man had ever looked at her like that before. She had to fight the compulsion to cover herself with her hands, as he mentally stripped her of every article of clothing.
Then, as if that scathing examination were not insulting enough, he looked her directly in the eyes and he smiled. Not just any smile. No, this smile held sinister promise.
Watching the ravenous expression fade from his eyes when they fell to her left hand, Noelle was very grateful for the diamond wedding ring, she wore as a prop. She’d originally bought it to lend credibility to her role as a matchmaker. Most people understandably wanted to believe that their matchmaker was herself a happily married woman. Noelle had decided long ago to answer honestly if anyone every dared to ask about her marital status directly, but thankfully, no one had ever asked.
Determined to ignore his lascivious behavior, she pasted on her best smile and continued moving forward with her hand extended in greeting. “Welcome to Love Unlimited, Mr. Brandt, Noelle Brown.”
He frowned. “You’re Noelle Brown?”
Didn’t I just say that? She grind her teeth together determined to keep the false smile firmly in place. “Yes, I am. It’s so nice to meet you,” she lied.
Gesturing behind her, she said, “please come into my office. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?”
“Neither.” He grumbled.
She turned and walked back into her office. “A bottle of water, perhaps?”
“That will be fine. Thank you.”
Noelle crossed behind the desk and opened the small fridge built into her credenza and pulled out two bottles of water. Reaching across the desktop, she placed one in front of the guest chair.
As Noelle took her seat, she tried very hard to wipe the memory of that smile from her mind, determine to make the best of this golden opportunity. It was impossible as she watched the porn movie playing in his mind reflected in his eyes.
She’d only known him five minutes, and she could already see the signs of why this man, whom it was said had the magical touch of King Midas in his business dealings was such a blazing failure at romantic relationships.
She’d just met the man and already didn’t like him. She could only imagine what other woman must think. You don’t have to like him, just tolerate him, Noelle reminded herself. He was the key to Love Unlimited’s future success. Finding Derrick Brandt a mate would put her small matchmaking agency on the map.
For years, Noelle had read the stories in all the local papers regarding Derrick Brandt’s professional success, and personal flops. Usually, businessmen did not garner the kind of media coverage Derrick received. With his rags to riches background and camera perfect face, he was a fascinating figure to the citizens of Philadelphia. Especially, when it became obvious that despite his financial acumen, he had the social grace of a humped back camel. As far as the local tabloids were concerned Derrick Brandt was the best kind of celebrity figure, prone to public emotional outburst.
He argued with his girlfriends in busy restaurants. He assaulted camera men who got too close. He had a well-known reputation for being rude and surly, the by-product of which was that for the right price people in the service industry were eager to betray him. And although, he was considered a playboy not a very successful one.
In other words, Derrick Brandt was a paparazzi dream-come-true. They had even gone so far as to give him the odious label of The Most Ineligible Bachelor in the City.
And now, the man and all the media that went along with him were sitting in Noelle’s office seeking her help in finding his perfect mate.
When he’d called her last week to schedule the appointment, Noelle had immediately seen the opportunity for what it was. The chance of a lifetime. Although, growing fast due to their remarkable record for matching couples, Love Unlimited was still a small and essentially unknown entity on the Philly dating scene. Noelle had recognized right away that Derrick Brandt could change all that.
Finding the right woman for Derrick Brandt would garner media attention for her firm that could not be bought. It would be said that if Love Unlimited could find a match for the most ineligible bachelor in Philadelphia, they could find a match for anyone! Noelle could already see the headlines, and the droves of new clients that would follow.
First, in order to do that, she would have to put her personal dislike for the lecherous man aside and apply herself to doing what she did best. Matching couples based on common interest, physical attraction and the most likely long term compatibility. Or in Derrick Brandt’s case, . . . finding Ms. Right for Mr. Wrong.

Copyright © Elaine Overton by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

GUEST BLOGGER: Pamela Samuels Young


Finding Time To Write When You Have No Time

With the demands of work, family, church and community activities, you may think your goal of becoming a published author is a pipe dream. Well, you're wrong. I know from experience, that no matter how busy you are, you can find time to write if that is truly your goal.

Get into the habit of waking up early to squeeze in an hour or two of writing time. Stop complaining about the two to three hours you spend at the beauty shop and take your laptop or notepad along with you to work on your book. You can also use your lunch break to revise your manuscript and you can probably write a few pages while waiting for your kids at soccer practice. Buy an inexpensive tape recorder and instead of listening to the radio during your morning and evening commute, use the time to "talk through" your novel. With your family's support, you might even find an evening or two to run off to your local library or a nearby Starbucks for some writing time. Even if it's only an hour a week, use it.

Remember that you don't actually have to be writing to advance your novel. The next time you're in the shower or taking a neighborhood jog or walk on the treadmill, use the time to mull over the plot for your book. While you're waiting at the doctor's office or stuck in a grocery store line, do a little people-watching. Somebody is bound to resemble one of your characters. Jot down a few notes about their appearance. This is a great way to hone your character descriptions.

Try to make a commitment to write a set number of hours or pages per week. Whatever goal you set, just make sure it's realistic. Start out small and once you get into the flow of things, increase your goal. And if you fall short one week, don't beat yourself up. There's always next week. You'll have a finished novel in no time!

Pamela Samuels Young
http://www.pamelasamuelsyoung.com/


When attorney and best-selling author Pamela Samuels Young isn’t practicing law, you can usually find her penning her next legal thriller. Pamela’s fast-paced novels, Every Reasonable Doubt and In Firm Pursuit, have been described as “John Grisham with a sister’s twist!” Both books, published by Harlequin’s Kimani Press imprint, are Essence magazine bestsellers. In Firm Pursuit was honored by Romantic Times Book Reviews magazine as a nominee for Best African-American Novel of 2007. Urban Reviews.com also honored In Firm Pursuit as one of the “Best of the Best” for 2007. Her debut novel, Every Reasonable Doubt, was the first place winner in the Black Expressions Book Club’s Fiction Writing Contest. Murder on the Down Low, Pamela’s third novel, went on sale September 1, 2008. Her short story Setup is featured in the Sisters in Crime Anthology, LAndmarked for Murder. A desire to see engaging female and African-American attorneys depicted in today’s mainstream legal fiction motivated Pamela to start writing despite a busy legal career. Pamela is an in-house employment attorney for a large corporation in Southern California, an adjunct professor at the University of Redlands’ School of Business and the legal columnist for Global Woman magazine. She still finds time to serve on the Board of Directors of the Southern California Chapter of Mystery Writers of America. Pamela earned her bachelor’s degree in journalism from the University of Southern California and her master’s degree in broadcasting from Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism.

After spending several years as a television news writer and associate producer, including stints at WXYZ-TV in Detroit and KCBS-TV in Los Angeles, Pamela took a break from the news business to serve as a Coro Foundation Fellow in St. Louis, Missouri. Pamela later returned to school and earned her law degree at UC Berkeley’s Boalt Hall School of Law. She practiced law at the Los Angeles office of O’Melveny & Meyers for several years and served as Employment Law Counsel for Raytheon Company. The Compton native served as legal consultant to the Showtime television series, Soul Food and is a frequent speaker on the topics of self-empowerment, diversity and pursuing your passion. Visit Pamela’s website at www.pamelasamuelsyoung.com.

Murder on the Down Low

A high-profile lawsuit erupts into chaos, revealing its place in a larger spree of violence in this scandalous tale of lust, lies, and vengeance. A brazen gunman is targeting prominent African American men on the streets of Los Angeles, and police are completely baffled.

At the same time, savvy big-firm attorney Vernetta Henderson and her outrageous sidekick, Special, lead the charge for revenge against a man whose deceit caused his fianceĂ©'s death. For Special, hauling the man into court and suing him for wrongful death just isn’t good enough. While she exacts her own brand of justice, a shocking revelation connects the contentious lawsuit and the puzzling murders.

ISBN-10: 0981562701
ISBN-13: 978-0981562704

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

DEBUT AUTHOR: Daniel Serrano


Daniel Serrano was born and raised by his mother in the tough streets of New York and Chicago. The eldest of three boys, Serrano witnessed gangs, crime, drugs, poverty, and even murder, as his family lived the urban Latino struggle. After drifting through menial jobs for years, he enrolled in the Weekend Program at Shimer College and studied the classics. Serrano went on to earn a law degree from St. John's University. As an attorney, he has spent the bulk of his career advising politicians and alleged criminals. He is currently at work on his next book. Daniel currently divides his time between New York City and Puerto Rico.

GUNMETAL BLACK

As a child, Eddie Santiago grows up on the mean streets of his Puerto Rican neighborhood in Chicago, where he witnesses his father's murder. Now in his thirties, after serving ten years in a state penitentiary, Eddie is coming home. With prison behind him, Eddie plans to seek refuge in Miami Beach. But new trouble begins when Eddie and his old friend/gangster Little Tony are pulled over by two cops, who rob Eddie of his money belt, which contains his life savings. Convinced it was a set-up, Eddie is determined to recover what is rightfully his, all the while trying to reform his childhood friend.

Along the way, Eddie falls for a Mexican beauty with a past she is trying to escape. But his romance is almost cut short when he is dragged into a drug war, becomes a murder suspect, and is forced to participate in an ill-conceived casino heist.
Desc: Urban lit meets classic noir in this auspicious debut from first-time novelist Daniel Serrano.

Click here to read an excerpt: http://www.hachettebookgroupusa.com/books_9780446194136_ChapterExcerpt(1).htm

What would you like your readers to take away from your book?

The main thing I owe readers is to entertain them, to take them on a journey into the exciting, challenging, complicated lives of my characters. I strive to give readers unforgettable people to care about and to think about long after they finish the novel. I originally wrote GUNMETAL BLACK as a cautionary tale for the young, although I have long since found that the story appeals to people of all ages from adolescents on up. My main hope is that readers come away satisfied by the story and affirmed in the intrinsic value of all human life.

What did you learn while writing this book?

I learned a million things about story-telling technique, both big and small, like how to make the story a page-turner, how you must constantly challenge your characters to make them complex. I also learned how much fun it is to paint beautiful, evocative pictures with words. Many readers say that the novel reads like watching a movie. But it is a lot of hard work to produce a book. You have to love doing it, because writing is mostly a solitary existence that requires stamina, and the courage to face the things that drive you. In the end, when people react to your book, when you yourself have a hard time putting it down, it is extremely gratifying.

What is the hardest part about the writing business?

It is ironic because already I can see that you get to meet and connect with all kinds of new and interesting people, yet writing is mostly lonely and time consuming. Getting the book written, pouring all of your love into it is only the beginning. Modern publishing requires you to become a publicist and a hustler as well as a novelist. This takes time away from creation and anything else you want to do, like be with your family or work at other things. You have to have an almost obsessive compulsion about pursuing your own success, because nobody else will care like you do.

What one thing about writing do you wish other non-writers would understand?

The amount of work and isolation involved. Recently I read an interview of Junot Diáz. He'd just won the Pulitzer Prize for a novel that earned lavish praise and had been a bestseller. He was at the pinnacle of what every writer fantasizes about. Asked if he was happy, he answered that he would never be happy until the writing got easier.

Our theme this month is Time Management. How do you do to manage your writing time?

Not very well! I have always had trouble getting and staying organized and this affects my work at the keyboard. I tend to write in waves, which gets you there, but not as predictably as I would like, especially now that it's no longer a hobby, but a business involving deadlines and other people's expectations.

What are three things you wish you'd known before you reached where you are now?

I've had some success, including this wonderful exposure in SORMAG, but I wish I had known to prepare a comprehensive publicity campaign. I also wish I had developed steadier writing habits, and that I had learned to manage money.

Was there ever a time in your writing career you thought of quitting?

Yes, I used to work at the World Trade Center and I lost three years' worth of work on GUNMETAL BLACK, as a result of the 9/11 attacks. At first I was dismayed, I thought it was a sign that I was not destined to be a writer. But then I quickly realized that I was still here and that the decision to write or not to write was mine. I started over.

Do you have any advice for the aspiring writer?

Make writing a habit.

What are you thankful for this year?

The health and happiness of my loved ones, my own health, and the fact that a long-held dream came true with the publication of GUNMETAL BLACK. I am also happy about the pending completion of my second exciting novel, BOOGIEDOWN, which is a murder mystery set in New York City and features Latina NYPD Detective Cassandra Maldonado as she investigates the murder of a hip hop mogul. BOOGIEDOWN will be published next Fall by Grand Central. It will be the first in an action-filled series featuring Cassandra investigating crimes involving the rich and famous, and living her own private soap operas along the way.

Five questions about books:

One book you've read more than once.

All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy

One book you couldn't put down until you finished.

Black Money by Ross MacDonald.

One book that made you laugh.

Women by Charles Bukowski.

One book that made you cry.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diáz.

One book you wish you'd written.

The Godfather by Mario Puzo.

How can readers get in contact with you? (mail, email, website)

Readers can be on the lookout for my forthcoming website at http://danielserranobooks.com/

or gunmetalblackthenovel.com, but for now they can reach me at dannyserranoesq@hotmail.com. Thanks!

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

PURPOSELY SAID - Dr. Linda F. Beed


Time Is Moving On

“That’s easier said than done,” are famous last words of many a person with tunnel vision rather than a panoramic view of how to properly manage their time.

In order to take care of what has been entrusted to you, it is imperative to manage your time wisely. Time is a precious commodity. Once it is gone it can never be redeemed. In spite of all the clichés, time is the one thing that is so often set free, only to be stalked like an endangered species in hopes of capturing it for the opportunity to use it wisely.

Current circumstances, past failures and the fear of success can knowingly or unknowingly prevent us from properly assessing and implementing the opportunity before us. That negative experience can potentially cause us to fear the unknown. Rather than learn from the previous, error time is wasted remembering the past. Out of our fear comes the stepchild called procrastination.

Procrastination is a thief. A thief that if left at large:
· Becomes the powerful foe of success
· A comfort to the self-doubter
· A convenient excuse that blames others for its presence

Bad habits do not happen overnight. Likewise, good habits do not either. Good habits do, however, begin with a desire for change. So how do you eat an elephant? You eat it one step at a time. Below is not an exhaustive list; it is one that can help you on the road to breaking bad habits and managing your time more effectively.

1. Determine to break out of the detrimental habits of your past
2. Assess the size of the project
3. Visualize the end result you want/have been contracted for
4. Understand your time constraints
5. Prioritize needs in terms of importance (and if necessary financial needs)
6. Have a contingency plan
7. Have a competent assistant:
a. That you respect and trust
b. Who understands your vision
c. Who will have the hard conversation with you
d. Who understands the business and can think independently
e. Who can carry out the vision in your absence
f. Keep the lines of communication open and honest
8. Create an action plan with definite dates of accomplishment
9. Create a daily ‘To-do’ list
a. Make the list realistic
b. Do whatever it takes to complete it
c. Whatever remains at the end of the day, add to the top of tomorrow’s list
10. Never leave anything to assumption. In terms of your sources: check,
check and check again.

In closing, I will reiterate that creating new habits takes practice. Work at it consistently and do not allow stumbles to defeat you.


Until next time, remember—Purposely Said words can destroy or create a life. Linda!

Dr. Linda Beed is an educator, speaker, children’s minister, author of Business Unusual and co-moderator of BWChristianLit an online writing and mentor group.

You can find her on the web at:


lindabeed.com / MySpace / On Assignment Reviews / BWChristianLit

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