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Forever My Love
© Copyright Barbara Johannsen
All Rights Reserved, Devine Destinies
ISBN: 978-1-55487-570-2
Pages: 102
Release Date: 05/15/2010
Cover Artist: Angela Waters
Genre: Inspirational Contemporary Romance
Excerpt:
Julie tried to steel her emotions as she poked her head around the door facing of the hospital room. The two male nurses were in the process of getting Michael settled in bed, adjusting the series of machines that would keep record of his breathing and pulse. Even though it was obvious to both nurses that Michael couldn't use the call button, one of them pulled the cord within reach and fastened the buzzer to the corner of the sheet.
"Can we come in, Jimmy?" Julie asked in a quiet voice.
The big male nurse turned and smiled at Julie. "We've made him as comfortable as we can, Julie. The rest is up to God."
Julie heard the quick intake of air Dean sucked in. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck before stepping into Michael's room. "We have to help each other," she whispered in his ear. The tightening of Dean's arms around her waist assured her that he had heard her soft whisper.
The nurses stepped into the hall as Julie and Dean went into the room. From the door, Michael appeared to be sleeping peacefully. His features were relaxed and his eyes closed. His hands and arms were exposed above the covering of white sheet. His right arm was in a cast. Julie's gaze dropped to the plaster form. Through the sheen of tears misting her eyes, she glimpsed the scrawled names in red and blue ink running in random patterns across the plaster.
"Oh, my God," Dean exclaimed. He approached the bed and reached out to touch Michael. As he laid one open hand on his son's chest, he turned a tearful face to Julie. "How are we ever going to stand seeing him this way, Julie?"
Pain shot through Julie's insides. The remorse in Dean's eyes nearly broke her heart. Surely seeing Michael in this awful way brought back memories of Sharon's battle with cancer he had tried to bury. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close.
Dean broke the hug and wiped a hand across his eyes. "I'm sorry, Julie. I know I should be stronger, but the sight of him lying there, so still and lifeless got the better of me. We don't even know if he will regain consciousness.
A combination of emotions surged through Julie's insides as she looked down at Michael. There was an aura of silence about him that she couldn't find the courage to accept. She reached out one hand and touched his cheek, lightly pressing her palm against his jaw. His skin was warm and the familiar feel of beard stubble made her close her eyes for a moment. The years they were separated seemed to melt away, lost in a sea of hurt and time. Resisting the urge to gather his still body into her arms, Julie pulled her hand away and looked at his father.
"I want to get a look at his chart--and speak with Doctor Murdock."
"I'll stay here," Dean said, drawing a chair up beside Michael's bed. "I want to be here when he wakes up."
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Frances Pauli
ISBN: 978-1-55487-768-3
Cover Artist: Angela Waters
Number of Pages: 108
Categories: Romance, New Releases, Recent Releases, Science Fiction, Futuristic
Release Date: January 01, 2011
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Description
Lierra drags her barely tolerable fiancé to New Canterbury, a planet where history is almost recreated for the nostalgic, human colonists. While preparing for their wedding, however, she encounters Forrest Ecks, her hero and one of the premier artists of the time.
Despite his fame, Forrest Ecks has little in the way of promise. Injured in the war, his painting career has withered along with his damaged hand. When the Lady Darvid shows him an E-sel full of amateurish, but promising sketches, Forrest takes on the task of teaching the woman. But Lierra herself proves far more interesting than her paintings.
Lierra’s engagement hovers ever closer, but more than her art blooms during her lessons with Forrest. With the little time they have, can they teach each other that giving up is never the best option?
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Excerpt
“Technically, yes,” she said. Collette made a noise to her right. Lierra had nearly forgotten her cousin in her fury to prove herself to a complete stranger. Now she heard the girl shifting from foot to foot. No doubt, nervous at the situation, at the man’s blatant disregard of their status.
“You’ve left something off.” His eyes narrowed. “There’s a but hanging on the end of that statement.”
“Yes,” Lierra stared straight back at him. Behind her, Colley squeaked. “Personally, I prefer his earlier works. The later pieces lack his initial passion.”
“But certainly, you’d admit they exhibit a great deal more skill?”
“Skill, yes, but without the emotion. I saw Woman with Yellow Veil yesterday…”
The man snorted at her, actually snorted.
“You dislike it? I’d say it’s possibly his best work.”
“I certainly hope not,” he said. “It’s sloppy, sentimental and amateurish.”
“Quite easy to say, I imagine, from the sidelines.”
“It’s widely considered,” He stole her earlier words. “That Ecks’ work became progressively more sophisticated as he mastered his medium.”
“Mastery is not a fair trade-off for passion.” Lierra refused to be unnerved, though a shadow of concern blossomed in her thoughts. There was something about this man, something intense that went beyond his fine clothes and long black gloves. “The early paintings had a wild edge, something raw and unchecked—”
“Reckless abandon?” The corner of his mouth twitched into an amused smile.
“Yes, in a way,” Lierra answered. He’s enjoying this, she thought. In truth, so was she. The debate topped Trent’s occasional, Hey babe, what you doodling? by a landslide.
“Sloppiness is no substitute for craft.”
“Craft is good,” she said. “But without the raw emotion it can come across as sterile.” Behind her, Colley let out another squeak.
“Sterile?” His eyes widened. Both of his eyebrows raised in a startled stretch. A warning bell chimed in the back of Lierra’s mind.
He stepped forward and gave the Ecks a good long stare, tucking one of his hands into the front of his coat and tilting his head sharply to the side.
“Interesting perspective,” he said. “Unconventional, but interesting.”
Lierra had no idea if he referred to the painting or her comments, but the chime of alarm escalated. She heard sirens in her head, stared at the glove tucked into his doublet. She darted a helpless glance in Collette’s direction. Her cousin inspected her own feet, demur, unhelpful. Lierra scrambled for something to say, but he spun away from the painting before her brain supplied any answer.
“It has been a pleasure.” He bowed, a stiff, formal gesture that might have soothed her had it happened ten minutes ago. “I look forward to more conversation over dinner, Lady Darvid.”
She stood frozen, knowing from the heat spreading across her cheeks that she blushed and that he noticed. The man knew exactly who she was. Her brain whirled. She managed a rather breathless, “Likewise,” and watched him pass, stride across the room and make his exit. The Gallery doors swung closed in slow motion.
“That was Forrest Ecks, wasn’t it?” She turned to where Collette waited. The girl’s horrified expression answered for her. Forrest Ecks, of course it was.
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Viola Grace
ISBN: 978-1-55487-754-6
Series: # Nexus Chronicles
Cover Artist: Martine Jardin
Number of Pages: 70
Categories: Paranormal Romance, Recent Releases, Fantasy, Holiday Stories, Previous Releases
Release Date: December 15, 2010
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Description
Raven Dexter chose to pursue midwifery the moment she helped a teen friend deliver her baby. Fed up with unconcerned physicians, she studied until she could open her small practice in a moderately sized town. Her practice was slowly growing until the night a strange man demanded she come with her to attend a birth. Her introduction to the paranormal society was in the venue of delivering a small goblin baby that quickly took a chunk out of her arm.
The elf that took her to her first delivery moves in without even asking, taking care of everything from her appointments to making her meals, Eyleno Miz rapidly becomes indispensable and then becomes something more.
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Excerpt
Either he was telling the truth about goblins or she had gone off the deep end and was rapidly going under. Perhaps she was at home drowning in a warm bubbly bath.
“Your patient is this way.” He parked the car and escorted her through alleys that held strange and hostile smells, but Eyleno moved calmly and quickly and all too soon, they were passing creatures that were even less human looking than her elfin guide.
“Goblins?” She swallowed. There was an acrid scent in the air, similar to sweat but very different. Her mind accepted it as the smell of a different race with a different diet.
“Goblins.” His word was calm and confirming.
The large house that they entered was full of the creatures, each more hideous than the last. Afraid to be caught staring, Raven walked right behind Eyleno, so close that when he stopped, she ran straight into him. As she righted herself, she couldn’t help noticing that he smelled really nice, like autumn and the sun altogether.
“Here are the women’s quarters. The maid will take you through.” He handed the bags to the four-armed woman and Raven blankly followed her bright blue and pink luggage.
Females filled the labour room. The woman on the bed was hideous with fangs exposed in pain. Raven immediately introduced herself.
“Thank the burning sun that you are here. The child is almost here.” The woman grimaced, a truly frightening sight.
Raven got to work, the anatomy she faced blessedly familiar. The woman was indeed ready to give birth. The dark head was becoming visible. When the small son came sliding into the world, Raven caught him with practiced hands. As she turned him over her arm to clear his lungs, a prickling sensation started and then the little bugger munched down on her arm with all his might.
“Son of a bitch!” She didn’t want to shake her arm, but it was hard keeping still until he released of his own accord. As quickly as she could, Raven handed him over to his mother and took care of the afterbirth and making sure that the bleeding was not excessive.
Her own bleeding was continuing from her forearm as the punctures were still sluggishly giving up their bounty. Hissing, she dumped alcohol on the wounds and bound it with gauze. When the proud father came into the room and licked the child clean, she had had enough. Raven passed out.
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Viola Grace
ISBN: 978-1-55487-766-9
Series: # Sector Guard in series: 15
Cover Artist: Martine Jardin
Number of Pages: 57
Categories: Romance, New Releases, Recent Releases, Science Fiction, Futuristic
Release Date: January 01, 2011
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Description
Tricia Williams has been handed over to the Sector Guard, her talent for tranquilizing those around her has become dangerous and uncontrolled. The Sector Guard techs rise to the challenge and in no time, Tricia has been outfitted with a uniform that will let her eat and converse in public without putting her in a bubble. Guardian is her new commanding officer and they have met before. When she was a mediator and he was joining the Alliance, she mediated his contract and he took a place in her nocturnal fantasies from that day onward. Now, assigned to Guardian as a partner, Pax has several things to deal with, and her life depends on his attention to detail. If he would stop staring at her butt, things would go a lot smoother.
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Excerpt
“I wouldn’t choose anywhere else. If you run into her, ask Pilot about it in more detail. As the first Guardsman, she might have an insight that I lack.”
Tricia made a face at the monitor and laughed outright as the image of a hand with the middle finger extended came up on the screen. “Charming, Aggie.”
“I do try. We are coming up on Morganti. Star Breaker is en route to escort the shuttle in. The staff from the base has already made contact and will be loading you into their shuttle. This is where I wish you good luck. Once your bubble is unhooked, I won’t be able to speak to you.”
“I know. It has been wonderful to have you to talk to though. Those stiffs at the Citadel didn’t even want me to have a book in here.”
“I have passed your appreciation to the captain. I had several packs of cards made for crew members and he parted with his personal set.”
Tricia swept the cards into a pile and tapped them square. “Would he like them back?”
“You know you are under contagion protocols. Anything in that room that isn’t you is up for scorching.”
She grumbled silently. Her talent had been refined and honed by the Citadel to the point where she could simply touch, speak to or be in the same room with someone and they would go from irritated to placid in an instant. Her very voice was considered toxic and even Aggie had to use an audio filter so as not to be touched by her talent.
Talent or curse, Tricia couldn’t make up her mind. She was on the fence as to what the classification for her condition was.
“The Morganti crew is here. Good luck, Tricia.”
“Thanks for the sympathetic ear, Aggie. I hope to see you soon.”
A laugh came through the speakers as the door to the hold opened to display four friendly faced base staff. “See me or hear me?”
“Whatever. It was nice to have another human to talk to.”
“Same here—” Her voice cut off as the staffers disconnected the leads to the walls of Tricia’s bubble.
Thick layers of clear plexi were sealed and without the air coming in through the umbilical, she had less than an hour. It was a good thing that the crew that moved her was efficient.
They trundled her out of the bay in which her bubbled had been installed and into a shuttle bay where a large transport vehicle was waiting.
Something was wrong. There was no Sector Guard logo on the side of the ship. Frantically, Tricia ran to the com and tried to connect, but there was no answer.
Her escort noted her frenzy and moved quickly, their eyes keeping a look out for any members of the ship’s crew. Tricia’s heart sank when a staff member from the Deckar came around the corner and one of her escorts blasted him.
She was being kidnapped and she couldn’t get out of the damned cage!
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Erin, thanks for agreeing to this interview. I have to ask, what has been your biggest influence on becoming a writer?
The desire to express myself, to explore the unlimited potential of the imagination. I love the written word and I love being a part of the ancient tradition of storytelling.
What makes a book great in your eyes?
A good book leaves me with a feeling of satisfaction. It makes me feel as if it was worth the time I spent reading it and the money I paid for it. I become involved in the storyline and care about the characters the author worked so hard to create, but I won’t necessarily keep it. I’ll lend it to a friend with a suggestion to read it or I’ll donate it to a library.
A great book however, grabs me by the eyes and demands my full attention. A great book so suspends my disbelief that it leaves an unforgettable impression on my mind. I buy hook, line and sinker what the author wrote because of their skill and their devotion to their creation. A great book will make me buy and keep it for my personal library and will definitely make me recommend it. I’ll even go so far as to send the author a note advising them how much I enjoyed their creation, let them know what a wonderful talent they have and how much I look forward to their next work.
Do you have any guilty pleasures?
Probably way more than is considered appropriate… *LOL* one of them is designer perfumes. Oh and let’s not forget sinfully rich, very dark chocolate. Red, red, knock ‘em dead lipstick, just to name a few.
Name one thing readers don’t know about you.
I am overall a very confident woman, but tend to become overwhelmed by crowds. That’s when I need to retreat and regroup, find my calm. Once I’M back to a happy middle, I’ll come out and play again.
Who is your favorite all-time author?
Marion Zimmer Bradley. I have read much of her stuff, still reading it. She was a master of imaginative characterization and one hell of a writer, in my opinion. Anne McCaffrey, she’s lyrical to me. David and Leigh Eddings, I love the sarcasm of the novels. Douglas Adams, love British humor and his was hysterical.
Are love scenes easy/difficult to write?
Difficult actually. It is such a personal interaction of two people, I feel as if I’m invading my character’s privacy by exposing their intimacy on the blank page. It takes me a while to build up to a love scene in a novel, but once I’m into the writing, I realize this is just the exclamation point to the story I’m creating involving my characters, once I remind myself of that, I tend to relax and carry on.
If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?
My 100 acre dream property writing, or tending to my organic garden, or painting, or riding my beautiful Tennessee Walker…sigh, one day and soon as far as I am concerned.
How do you deal with the dreaded writer’s block?
I don’t suffer from writer’s block. I write until I can’t write any more, then step away. Once I’m refreshed and relaxed I go at it until the project is complete.
Do you have another career besides writing? What is it?
Currently practicing as a legal assistant for a local law firm.
To date, which is your favorite story? Which one did you have the most fun writing?
Cupid’s Folly. I cracked myself up the whole time I was writing it. My Big Fat Greek Tall Tale series takes the Greek pantheon of gods and goddesses and plops them squarely into 21st century San Francisco. I have had so much fun taking such intimidating mythology and turning the individual beings of that belief system into far more palatable reading. My Zeus is not the mad rapist of old, he’s a Tommy Bahama wearing, Jimmy Buffet listening, Aristotle Onassis wannabe now retired and living in the Florida Keys. Although he still has an eye for the ladies, he’s more gentleman than jerk. He loves his wife, Hera, but can’t stand being around her for too long as her shrill voice tends to give him a migraine. The character of Eros (Cupid) believes himself to be an immortal James Bond. He’s a wealthy, heart stopping gorgeous, first class klutz whose intentions are always good, it’s just his delivery gets in the way of his success sometimes. Aphrodite is, as always, beautiful and seductive, however, she’s now a famous sex therapist. Persephone is still married to Hades, but she is going through menopause as only a goddess can while her mother, Demeter, is a fully certified doula, lactation consultant and naturopathic physician. I’ve involved others, but don’t want to give too much away, so stay tuned for more of our favorite mythology coming soon to Devine Destinies.
If you had the opportunity to say one thing to your readers, what would that be?
I approach my writing with the intent to entertain, to create worlds that suspend the reader’s belief and allow them to escape from their worries for a while. I also use narrative fiction as a way to consider a different point of view, to teach, to allow a safe environment for one to wonder…what if? I can be found all over the web. I post blogs at the following sites the first Friday every month… The Many Shades of Life and Love (http://themanyshades.blogspot.com/ , The Pagan and the Pen (http://thepaganandthepen.wordpress.com/ , where I head the column Dear Spirit, a spiritual form of Dear Abby where I perform two to four tarot card readings plus an entertaining paranormal or supernatural article, and my newly created From My Corner (http://erin-sinclair-author.blogspot.com/.
Also, visit my website www.erinsinclairauthor.com an ever-changing work in progress and my divine publisher, Devine Destinies at www.devinedestinies.com for my latest work!
Thank you so much for this opportunity to tell readers a bit about me! I love to know what readers enjoy, so feel free to shoot me an email erinsinclairwriter@gmail.com or erin_sinclair_author@yahoo.com
Take care, everyone and thanks for stopping by!
Sincerely,
Erin Sinclair
“For love that’s out of this world!”
www.erinsinclairauthor.com
Tell us about yourself. I am Zaahir, responsible for the punishment meted out at Eagleridge Bluffs. That is my Muslim name given to me by my Indonesian mother. My Christian name is the same as my American father’s, James Jensen Jr. My father was an international financier, a middleman, a broker. If you wanted something, legal or illegal, he could get it for you—for a price. My mother was his housekeeper.
I am 27-years old, and have a British boarding school education and a degree in Comparative Religions from Cambridge, courtesy of my father. Upon his death, his estate was divided among his children, my two half-brothers and sister, whom I’ve never met, and myself. I inherited $40 million.
I now use his money to fund my organization, Terra defendo. Big business and governments call us eco-terrorists, but we are as our name signifies, defenders of the earth. You know the who, which is more than most, if you want to know the why, I have revealed it to Rod Raglin in his latest novel, Eagleridge Bluffs.
What makes you special?
My passion to protect the environment and my commitment to punish those that would destroy wild animals and wild places makes me special. I am smart, decisive and, when necessary, ruthless. I am a born leader—charismatic, charming and devoted to my team of five comrades. Never doubt that a small group of people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.
Tell me about your most current adventure.
Eagleridge Bluffs was our most current campaign. It was a special place, home of endangered plants and animals. The government wanted to blow it up to make way for a highway bypass. Terra defendo was there to help organize the citizens to prevent this from happening, and in the case that their protests failed, to punish the defilers of nature. The author has chronicled this confrontation and those involved, including my involvement with Miriam, an older, local woman whom I initially recruited to serve the cause.
If you could offer your author advice, what would it be?
My advice for Rod Raglin would be to have the courage of his convictions. When Eagleridge Bluffs was threatened what did he do? He wrote a letter. He should have put himself in harm’s way. I would tell him if he is given another opportunity don’t fail the cause, don’t fail himself.
Are you happy with the way people perceive you?
My life is underground. My work is subterfuge. I am not who people think I am and if I’m to stay free, safe and lead my team, that is how it must be.
Is expressing love difficult for you? Why?
Getting involved with other people means they could find out about Terra defendo. That would not only make them a liability, it would also threaten the safety of my team and myself. My team has become my family and yet with every campaign I have to put them at risk. It’s difficult to love someone and at the same time ask them to do something that puts their life and liberty in jeopardy. Better not to care too much.
Is there a message you want to get across in this interview?
When you love something, you must do everything in your being to care for and protect it. If you don’t, and it’s lost or destroyed, you’ll not only live with an empty spot in your heart, your soul will be plagued with the guilt that you could have done more and didn’t.
Share a little bit of the real you with our readers. Any Dark secrets?
I will reveal this only to you and you must not betray my confidence. I’m tired of this life. I’m discouraged by the lack of success and depressed we even have to fight for, what should be, self-evident. It’s stressful living in the shadows, cautious of every situation and suspicious of every stranger. I want a relationship, to love and be loved. I want roots, a home, instead of moving from country to country, posh hotel to seedy safe house. The responsibility of being a leader is filled with anxiety and fear, all of which must be concealed to appear strong and confident.
But then I tried the conventional route in the beginning, not unlike the folks that protested at Eagleridge Bluffs, and where did it get us, the movement, the living things that are now gone forever? How can it be different? To save the Earth, society has to drastically be changed and powerful interests are threatened by this. They will do what it takes to maintain the status quo—undermine legitimate governments, support corrupt ones, lie, cheat, even kill those that opposed them while they continued to rape and pollute the planet. They will never submit, even as they draw their last breath of poisoned air.
What motivates you to continue on these adventures?
Writer, environmentalist, thinker, Terry Tempest Williams said, If you know wilderness in the way that you know love, you would be unwilling to let it go… Unfortunately, I know it that way—what choice do I have?
How does one become an eco-terrorist?
Quite easily. Find a place that you love like my Miriam loved Eagleridge Bluffs. Here’s how she described them to the author.
At least twice a week she looked forward to taking Ruth’s binoculars and climbing Eagleridge Bluffs where, for a few hours, she would lose herself and become one with the birds, breeze and ever-changing nature.
The summer seduced her with sweet, wild strawberries, languid reptiles basking on sun-baked rocks, outrageous sunsets and a Golden-crowned Kinglet.
The autumn offered her a myriad of brilliant colors, a sky that was ferociously blue, air that was first-day fresh, and a Red-breasted Nuthatch, characteristically climbing down a tree headfirst.
The mists of winter brought somber shades of grey, eye-watering winds, ice filled crevices and the companionship of an ever-present Raven.
Then Spring spoke of rebirth with green life sprouting from the most unlikely places, seductively fragrant breezes that caressed the chapped landscape and a cacophony of migrating birds lead by the loud trill of the Spotted Towhee.
Again and again the Bluffs would refresh her soul and rekindle her spirit.
Then learn that this place, and all the plants and animals that call it home and have for eons, are going to be totally obliterated to make way for a highway bypass. When you argue there are viable alternatives to this destruction, you’re ignored or dismissed. Finally, when all your legitimate avenues have proved futile, you discover what is really motivating the destruction of your sacred place is political payoffs—construction contracts in payment for past political contributions.
The need for revenge, for retribution, to inflict pain on those that are causing you such unnecessary anguish coalesces. An eco-terrorist is born.
Tell us about the campaign before Eagleridge Bluffs?
Here is an excerpt from the prologue to Eagleridge Bluffs. The event took place in West Virginia while the author, at the time an investigative reporter, was embedded with my team.
The January night air was thick with an icy fog tinged yellow by neon vapor lights. On the far side of the expansive open pit mine a gigantic excavator and several monstrous trucks rested from the their labors in a compound fenced on the three sides that weren’t open to the quarry.
Beyond the guardhouse, a road traversed carved slopes leading down into blackness and finally to the pool of chemical sludge.
This was the toxic brew, seeping from the settling ponds and leaching into the ground that was suspected of poisoning the drinking water of the residents in the valley below.
Everything was as still as death.
In the forest opposite the site, the darkness was so impenetrable Zaahir couldn’t identify his team members.
“Sound off,” he whispered into the void.
“Bam-Bam.”
“Tim.”
“Caelum.”
“Luna.”
He waited. “Where’s Terra?”
Silence.
Zaahir fought to contain the rising panic.
“I’ll find her.” It was Caelum.
“Stay put, there’s no time.”
“No way, I’m going back.”
“Someone’s coming,” rasped Luna. “It’s her.”
“Terra?”
“Sorry,” Terra said, “I twisted my ankle.”
There was a beep from the timer.
“Thirty seconds,” warned Bam-Bam.
“Can you make it back to the vehicle?” Zaahir said.
”I’ll help her,” Caelum said.
“Did you locate the third security guard, Tim?”
“Nope. Maybe he didn’t come into work.”
“Ten, nine, eight…” Bam-Bam continued the countdown.
Zaahir swallowed, fighting down nausea. Something wasn’t right.
A blinding flash ripped the winter night and a ball of orange flame swallowed the giant excavator. The concussion swept over their hiding spot on the opposite side of the huge quarry like a blast of wind, the sound arriving seconds later.
“Far out!” exclaimed one of the team.
A huge cloud of smoke mushroomed above the destruction. Zaahir hunched down as the clatter of debris landing in the surrounding pit filled the air. But there was something else, a high, thin keening. Someone was screaming.
Then Zaahir saw him tumbling from the cab of the excavator. The exploding diesel fuel had soaked his clothes, and flames now hungrily fed on his jacket, pants, and hair.
“He’s on fire! He’s on fire!” Terra screamed.
“Shut her up!” ordered Zaahir.
The fiery figure got up and ran, which only encouraged conflagration. A human torch, he fell over the edge of the open pit mine and rolled, bumped, and finally flew down the steep embankment until he was out of sight.
“There’s the third security guard,” Bam-Bam said, breaking the shocked silence.
“He must have been sleeping in the cab, probably drunk or stoned,” Tim said, his voice shaky.
The other two guards appeared, coming from the security trailer, running toward the destruction. An alarm wailed.
“Let’s get out of here,” Zaahir said.
Hello everyone, my name is Erica Clark Parkhurst. Welcome to Spirit Lake, Pennsylvania where I, along with my best friend, Paula Bascilla, now own a very haunted bed and breakfast called The Spirit Lake Inn. Thanks so much to Devine Destinies for giving me the opportunity to tell you a little about my life and the adventures I’ve encountered since I arrived here.
I happened upon Spirit Lake by accident one July day when my bus broke down just outside of DuBois. You see I was on my way to Chicago after my marriage to a New York plastic surgeon broke up. I’d also lost my job just days after the jerk walked out on me. Talk about a bad week! Anyway, I left the bus behind and rented a car, striking out on my own. I’ve heard it said that life is all about choices. Well, the choice I made on that hot summer day, when I pulled off the main road and followed the sign that read Spirit Lake-5 miles, changed
the course of my life in ways I never could have imagined.
There is a lot of Native American folklore surrounding the town of Spirit Lake and much of its heritage is evident in its present day citizens. The lake itself is steeped in mystery, and I was amazed and intrigued by the mist that rose off of it at dusk. In fact that’s the reason I took a walk on the dock one evening shortly after my arrival. It’s how I met Joe Lakota. To say the encounter was eerie and a little scary would be an understatement. In fact after it was over I began to wonder if he’d ever really been there at all. But Joe turned out to be very real and we fell in love.
Joe’s log cabin, which he built himself, is located in the woods near the inn. He shared it with his loyal companion, Mingo, who is part wolf, part dog. Mingo and I had a rocky start but are now best buddies, especially since I constantly slip him table scraps, much to Joe’s chagrin. Hey, I’m not above bribery if it helps smooth things out. Sounds ideal, doesn’t it? But there’s always a wrinkle. Little did I know the hornet’s nest I’d walked into, but I soon found out that everything was not as it seemed in Spirit Lake. Joe was a man with secrets, one of which had to do with a decades-old murder.
Local legend has it that the mist represents the spirits of long dead tribal chiefs who now watch over their descendents. I was never a superstitious person, but considering what happened later when I was at the mercy of a brutal killer on that dock, I’ve had to rethink my position.
Oh, did I mention the ghosts at the inn? Lots of them, all over the place, including a weeping woman in the century-old rose garden, another one that bangs around in the attic and the one who wreaks havoc in the basement? Quite unnerving and something you never get used to, believe me. But one ghost in particular led me to a discovery that linked my family’s past to Spirit Lake, something I never would have know had I not taken that detour in July.
Since my arrival in Spirit Lake, my life has been a roller coaster ride that includes romance, murder, ghostly encounters and many other things aimed I’m sure at keeping me on my toes. I hope you’ll come join me and share my wonderful sometimes crazy life in the unique town of Spirit Lake.
The Spirit Lake series includes the original novel, Spirit Lake, the second book, Echoes of the Past, and a special Christmas adventure called Slay Bells Ring.
The fourth book in the series, House of Secrets was released May 1. You can purchase the entire series or the book of your choice at www.devinedestinies.com.
What makes you special? What differentiates you from your kind? Do you have special abilities?
My forgiving nature. I’m ready to give people a second chance even when they disappoint me or break my heart. For instance, Joe had to be given quite a few second chances!
Tell us about your most current adventure.
In House of Secrets, I’m going to face the most difficult challenges of my life as tragedy strikes my best friend, the town is rocked by a series of brutal rapes, old bones are dug up in the rose garden, a guest is murdered, and the love of my life, Joe, goes missing.
If you could offer your author advice, what would it be?
Bring Joe back to me! What the heck are you thinking? Oh, and quit eating at the computer. I’m sick of looking out from the other side of the screen and watching you stuff your face. More writing, less gorging, please.
Are you happy with the way people perceive you?
All in all I think I am. Someone once accused me of being too wishy-washy and that hurt. I’m not like that, but I’m not always tough as nails either. I have inner strength, which comes out when it is needed. Maybe that’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s how I am. Take me or leave me. So there, how’s that for assertive!
Does your author ever try to take over the story? And how do you deal with it?
She’s a control freak! Help! I mean, come on, I have a mind of my own, you know? Here’s how I handle it—I let her rant on, then when she least expects it, I zap a thought into her mind—usually while she’s having her morning shower—and bingo, she rewrites the scene. Works every time. And the best part is, she thinks the changes are her idea.
Is humor important? Why or why not?
A bit of humor is always important. At the Spirit Lake Inn, we’ve been very lucky in that during every adventure we’ve had at least one guest with a great sense of humor. There’s always something funny to offset the tragedies that seem to befall us. It keeps us balanced.
If you could time travel, where would you go?
I’d go back into the town’s past and meet the Clarks, the ancestors who link my family to Spirit Lake. I’d love to sit down with them and find out more about that lost branch of the family tree.
What other characters have influenced you?
Paula Bascilla, my best friend, has been a great influence in my life. She’s such a free spirit. I wish I could be more like her. I feel closer to her since we’ve moved to Spirit Lake than I did in all the years we were friends in New York City.
What motivates you to continue on these adventures?
Actually, the adventures come to me. I love the inn and never want to leave. Each and every set of guests has brought their own agenda and as a result the adventures just seemed to happen. Take for instance the Carters, Edgar and Mimi in Echoes of the Past. They were so delightful, and when Mimi fell down the stairs—claiming someone pushed her, but we suspected one of the ghosts—they made the best of it, staying on even as a murder investigation turned things into chaos. Edgar, a retired cop, was in his glory, I could tell. We wouldn’t have been able to pry him out of that inn with a crowbar! And let’s not forget Ed Tate in Slay Bells Ring, who came to the inn with an evil agenda and ended up paying with his life. That adventure brought me face to face with my past and closed a chapter in my life. I’m not sure if I chose the path I’m on or if it was chosen for me through a set of circumstances, but however it happened, I intend to follow the road to the end.
What is your most favorite thing to do?
In spite of the creepiness, and the bad things that happened there in July and in December, I love to sit on the dock at dusk and watch the mist form on top of the water. I especially liked to be there with Joe and Mingo. Now it’s just Mingo and me. The quiet is amazing. It’s so peaceful. Every time I sit on one of the benches I remember the night I first saw Joe, his voice, deep and resonant asking, “Do you know why they call it Spirit Lake?” I turned and there he was coming out of the mist like some specter, yet very real and oh, so sexy looking. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest and my breath hitched in my throat. Even now, thinking back on it, I feel the same way I did that first night, all fluttery and flushed. If that’s love at first sight, then I guess that’s what happened. Joe took hold of my heart on that dock and I know that no one else will ever take his place.
Where do you see yourself in five years?
Is this a job interview? That’s one of the standard questions, isn’t it? LOL. Okay, I’ll answer. In five years I’d like to be married to Joe and the mother of at least two children. Too bad we don’t always get what we want, huh?
What’s the oddest thing you’ve seen or done?
The night I ran out of the inn because I heard my soon to be ex-husband’s voice in the foyer. I fled into the woods and fell, twisting my ankle in the process. Then to top it all off, a wolf approached me and I panicked. Of course if wasn’t a wolf after all, just Joe Lakota’s dog, Mingo. Joe carried me to his cabin and nursed my swollen ankle.
Tell us what it’s like to spend a day with you.
Well, let’s see, when I’m not being harassed by the police because of another murder investigation, I’m cleaning guests’ rooms and running errands. Hey, life isn’t high adventure all the time, you know.
What’s the one thing you wish you could change about yourself or someone you love?
I blush. At the drop of a hat. I hate it! The curse of being a redhead, I guess. It’s like my emotions are right out there all the time for anyone to see.
How do you deal with stress?
Hot baths or showers. Of course at the inn when you bathe you’re likely to be sharing the experience with a resident spirit. Once, I was taking a shower and almost slipped, only to have something, or someone, grab by arm and save me from a nasty fall. I was alone in the bathroom, by the way. See what I mean?
Carol thanks for agreeing to this interview.
What has been your biggest influence on becoming a writer?
Authors like Agatha Christie, Mary Roberts Rinehart, Dorothy Sayers, Paul Wellman, John Dickson Carr and others influenced me a lot. I began reading Wellman and Christie when I was a teenager. Mysteries and paranormal were the genres I loved and now it’s what I write.
How did you feel when you got your first publishing contract?
Ecstatic and relieved. I got my true crime book, A Picture Perfect Kid—Zumaya Publications—and my first cozy mystery accepted in the same week from different publishers. Talk about a happy dance! But I also realized that there would be a lot of work ahead of me because I had so many ideas for other books. An author’s work is never done.
How do you categorize yourself: pantser or plotter?
I’m definitely a plotter. I have to have an outline. It’s just a general outline, however, because I realize that once I start writing, other ideas will come to me and specifics of the scene might be altered.
What makes a book great in your eyes?
Well defined characters who are a little unpredictable.
A plot that keeps you guessing.
Good dialogue that is true to the character.
Page turning action.
A surprise ending.
I’m talking mysteries here, of course.
What is the biggest piece of your advice you can give a beginning writer?Pursue your dream and don’t let anyone discourage you. Also, don’t take rejections personally. Always remember why you began writing--because you love it and it gives your life more meaning.
Do you have any guilty pleasures?
You mean besides chocolate, which I’m not supposed to have? Well, let’s see—I’m a sucker for a cute puppy or kitten, which is probably why there are four cats and a dog in my house.
What influences your writing? And why?
What influences my writing is the need to tell the stories that fill my head. I see stories everywhere I go, which can be a blessing or a curse depending on the situation.
Name one thing readers don’t know about you.
I’m hooked on crossword puzzles. I work at least two or three a day. Can’t get enough of them. What? You were expecting some scandalous disclosure? Not until we know each other better!
What are you working on now?
House of Secrets, the fourth book in the Spirit Lake series. Fair warning: this one is not for the faint hearted.
Who is your favorite all-time author?
I have to say it is Dame Agatha Christie. I love the way she developed the characters and wove her plots.
Are love scenes easy/difficult to write?
Love scenes or sex scenes? There’s a difference in my mind. Writing sex scenes is easy, but writing a real love scene takes a lot more finesse and can be a real challenge.
Do you write in one genre or several different ones? And why?
I’ve written in several genres in the past including erotica. Now I write the paranormal mysteries and cozy mysteries. I write in those genres because they come easily to me. I toyed once with the idea of writing true science fiction, but gave it up.
If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?
On a beach. It’s been a cold snowy winter here in Dayton, Ohio.
How do you deal with the dreaded writer’s block?
I’ve never really had writer’s block—knock on wood. I guess if I did, I’d just take some time off and relax. I don’t think you can force the ideas to come and fretting about it would only make it worse.
Do you have another career besides writing? What is it?
I’m retired now. I was the business manager for numerous hospices, worked in hospital and home health business offices and even did a stint as a pharmacy tech way back when. Then of course, I worked as a newspaper reporter in South Carolina for a while.
What’s your biggest reward in being a writer?
Knowing that people enjoy my work. I’m not on any best seller list by any means, but I have a loyal group of readers who read my books and are like friends to me.
To date, which is your favorite story? Which one did you have the most fun writing?
Personally I like the Canid books best—Night of the Canid, Shadows in the Night and Night Watchers—but most of my readers go for the Spirit Lake ones. The Canid books—about shape shifters—are the most fun, although I have to admit I really enjoyed writing the fourth Spirit Lake book, House of Secrets. I’m not sure how it will be received though, since there are some very shocking developments included.
How do you go about developing your characters and setting?
I do character profile sheets. I have always felt that if you want to breathe life into your characters you have to give them a life. I use a form that I developed. It includes everything about the character, right down to their favorite color and whether their parents are alive or dead. I give them a past—where they went to school, do they have siblings, pets, make, model and color of the car they drive, etc. This helps me prevent errors like saying in one scene that they drive a Honda Civic and in another referring to the Dodge Stratus they own. See what I mean?
If you had the opportunity to say one thing to your readers, what would that be?
Keep reading! Don’t ever stop. And let me know what you think of my work. I love getting feedback. I’ve been knocking around this business for a long time and I worked for newspapers, so I’m not going to curl up in a corner and cry if I get criticism! Also, don’t be afraid to read books that are outside your normally preferred genre. It can only expand your world. And support your local libraries and promote literacy.
Visit my website for updates about my books and my life, and other fun things at: www.goodmysteries.webs.com .
