Tag Archives: ebooks

The Beginning of the Journey

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When I woke up this morning, I had a notice about a new Blog post from one of the Blogs I subscribe to. That post was by Jenny Turner, who writes as J.R. Turner. Her Blog was entitled “The End of the Road.” I was going to respond on her Blog, but then I decided that I would do it here and toss in a few other things.

In her Blog, Jenny talks about the changes in her life. One of the things she mentions is the reversion of all her rights. Anyone who knows the situation, knows I was Jenny’s publisher. I have already had one person ask me what happened, why I reverted her rights to everything, like there was some horrible altercation or something. Let me be clear, I reverted Jenny’s rights because her contracts expired and she had previously embarked on her journey as a self-publisher. Jenny was with Echelon Press for nearly the entire time of its existance and she will always remain a part of its history, and a very important part.

Jenny is one of the most talented writers I have ever met. Her wit is sharp, her style is enchanting, and her ability is stunning. She tells a story almost as good as any writer I know. I sincerely hope that when she has reissued her works in her own venue that you will offer her the support she so richly deserves. If you have not read her work, you should, you will not be sorry!

I wanted to write this post to ensure Jenny and anyone who enjoys an awesome story knows that despite how Jenny described it, this is not the End of the Road for her, it is the beginning of an awesome journey.

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The Gift of Mystery

The Virgin Murders by Nancy Sweetland

A Sneak Peek

The Meeting

Legs up to there and a smile that could melt the rocks from a glass of Bourbon. That’s what I see when I look at Universal Bureau of Investigation’s officer, Edmund St. John.

The impeccably dressed man strolled across the sidewalk and shoved the gate aside. He stepped around a small dog lying on the ground next to its lunching owner.

Now, I’m no expert on men, but I know what I like, and sister, I like the way the green eyes of this UBI agent simmer when he looks at me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not in the market for a man, but if I were, he’d be a damn good choice. Not that any of this matters.

The federal bureau went universal somewhere around 2020 and with it came a new breed of investigators. There was no choice when things changed. The crime in America grew at alarming paces after the turn of the new Millennium. Space exploration opened our country, hell our earth, to a new kind of terror. Growing up, we’d watched movies about aliens and space creatures, but no one would have ever imagined that the worst kind of creature would look just like us. There is no way to distinguish between humans and otherwise. I’ve never seen one of the outsiders, but that don’t mean I’m not on my guard all the time. There are some things that a girl can’t help but notice. Which brings me back to St. John.

Now, I make it a point, like everyone else, to notice St. John, but my lifeless long brown hair don’t offer an extraordinary enough view to attract more than a passing glance from him. I keep in good enough shape, but sometimes it’s not enough. Edmund’s eyes hold the same murky shadows of a jungle’s deepest greenery, fierce and dangerous, while mine are slightly darker than my hair. Nothing anyone chooses to gaze into, but I can live with that. With my usual long pants and button down blouses, most men don’t look any further than my smart mouth and knack for trouble. I don’t mind—much, since I don’t’ really need the complications of romance.

Our little neck of the woods doesn’t instill a keen sense of romance in anyone’s heart. Then again, what do you expect from Illinois. However, I’m certain that if I did decide I needed a man, Miller’s Pit would pull something out of its hat for me. Time didn’t change things that much. At the turn of the new Millennium, the United States had slipped quietly into the past, taking Miller’s Pit with it.

Boris Miller was the brilliant man who decided that since he had more money than anyone else did, he’d name the town after himself. The pit part came when his wife died by falling into a pit on his property. But none of that really matters. With my job, I don’t have time for love, or I wouldn’t if I could get a gig, which is why I’m here today. Well not exactly.

Gangsters are on the move and history is hell-bent on repeating itself. Prohibition has reared its ugly head once again and the UBI has its hands full with a ton of small battles destined to roll themselves into a full-scale war. At this rate, the twenty-first century will no doubt prove as thrilling as the last.

St. John sauntered up to my table. He leaned his head to the side and tipped his hat at the slender blonde sitting at the table behind me. I looked at my watch again. Quarter to ten. So much for our nine-thirty meeting. I often wonder if it’s not a G-man’s nature to be late. Maybe they think it will unnerve us and we’ll throw ourselves on the mercy of justice and confess to all our sins. If we had any that is.

As far as I can figure, St John’s biggest flaw is his lack of punctuality. My watch says that this is the fourth time in two weeks that I’ve had to wait for him to join me at The Shoppe. If I didn’t need his help, I’d be on my way to the office for some scintillating conversation with my cousin, Stuart.

“Hi ya, Doll.”

St. John’s voice wrapped around me like a smooth shot of brandy and I forced my mind back to the matter at hand. “If you refuse to call me Miss Gumshue, then I will gladly respond to Gloria, but please refrain from calling me Doll.”

The man has a habit of comparing me to any number of objects. I find the habit somewhat amusing, but to acknowledge this could settle us onto a new level of familiarity and that will not benefit our relationship.

I dab the fine mist of perspiration from my cheek and settle back in my café chair. The soft cotton fabric rustles as I make a show of arranging my skirt around my legs. I slip my feet out to the side and cross my ankles. With a little lean to the left, I offer St. John a healthy look at my legs, covered with sheer black stockings. I need something from him and there are very few ways of loosening his tongue.

This is not my normal attire, mind you, but some situations call for drastic measures. Once I discover what he knows and finish this meeting, I can head to the office and slip back into my slacks. In my line of work, I don’t have time to dawdle along in high heels and snug skirts. Thank you, dear women. I offer my silent gratitude to the dames of nearly a hundred years ago who made long pants the fashion for working girls during wartime. They do not, however, suit my needs at this moment.

St. John glances down and I know he’s noticed my slight shift in posture. He has a reputation for being hard as nails on the job, but a shapely leg supposedly turns him to a simpering charmer. He looks at my legs, whistles, and looks to my face again.

The sharp blast of a Ford horn rings out, but neither of us pays much attention. I’m too busy watching St. John, who is too busy eyeing my gams. He tosses his hat onto the table before carefully laying the jacket he’d been carrying, over the back of his chair. He folds himself into the small seat with an impressive display of masculine elegance. His navy blue trousers, freshly pressed pleats running down the front of decidedly slender legs, hug against his thighs. The pale yellow shirt contrasts sharply with his darkened skin. A brightly decorated tie, splashed with red, yellow, green, and gold sets off his entire ensemble.

That might seem like a strange word to describe a man’s clothing, but St. John is not your average G-man. He has flair. It shows in the way he dresses, each item perfectly coordinated to supply a certain style, and the way he works, meticulous and precise. Everywhere he goes people notice him. Mostly women, I note as a slender red head shimmies past him.

I chose The Shoppe for our meeting because of its very public location. The outside café tables offer a good view of Main Street as well as being close to my office. Being on the job makes my time valuable. Not having to get the car out saved me time. Having long legs has more than one good use, I think, watching St. John who keeps glancing down. I can walk to work in less time than it takes to get the Olds out of the parking garage. Lord knows why the lightweight sports car ever fell to the side of oversized heaps of metal.

Just for effect, I lean to the side, run my hand up the length of my calf, and check the seam of my stocking for straightness. Edmund never takes his eyes off my legs.

“Hmm,” he groans softly.

I look him directly in the eyes as I cross my legs. “When you’re done.”

His head snaps up and for a split second, he looks disoriented. His usual demeanor returns quickly and he slips back to his usual aloofness. “So, Gumshue, what’s got you all fired up today? Cat in a tree? Dog in a well?”

Edmund can’t possibly be so dense, then again G-men aren’t known for their IQ’s.

“St. John, I could take this to anyone, but I thought maybe your career could use a boost.” I take a sip of my joe. “Perhaps you missed that email.”

He snickers and the chase is on. My heart skips a beat at the possibility of going head to head with him and I smile.

“Does the name Eleanor Van Dresden set off any bells for you?”

Edmund pulls out a silver case and leans his arms against the edge of the table as he rolls a smoke.

I find myself enjoying the sweet smell of his imported tobacco as the smoke wafts in my direction. After a long and visually appealing pull on the cigarette he leans back in his chair.

“She’s a classy one,” he noted. “My kid sister claims her fashions are adored all over the world.”

I tap my fingernails against the glass tabletop as he ogles the shapely server tending the next table. The man has no shame. His intensity offers me the opportunity to notice a snag in my thumbnail. Maybe once I get a check for a gig, I’ll get myself a real manicure at one of those fancy salons in the city.

“I’m guessing the precinct boys haven’t clued your office in on the latest.”

St. John’s brow wrinkles as he turned his gaze back to me. “Cut to the chase, Gumshue.”

Ah, so now I have his attention, not that it bothers me, him watching the small brunette lean across a chair. “Van Dresden’s assistant filed a report several days ago. She claims someone has been threatening Dame Van Dresden.”

He shoots forward in his chair, his eyes blazing with a newfound determination. “I don’t get it, Doll. How is it you get the skinny before the Bureau of Investigations?”

His irritation sparks something inside me and I can’t stop myself from gloating. I make a mental note to keep it down to a minimal. “Well, let me think. I might have overheard old lady McGarrity talking about it when I was getting her cat, Milo, down from the tree.” His cheeks turn a pesky shade of pink as he glares in my direction.

“I’ve got better things to do with my time than hang out with a wiseguy in drag.”

“Keep it down, St. John. I’m willing to share what I know if you’d be so kind as to consider a partnership of sorts.”

I find his snort of laughter very unattractive. Downright rude, if you must know. I prefer to work alone, but in this instance the Bureau representative in question, in spite of his annoying tendencies, could offer me a few links I might not otherwise be privy to.

An older woman, with more than a little bustle backing her up, squeezes between Edmund and the chair behind him. The wind picks up and plucks a feather from her overzealous contraption of a hat. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much pink and yellow settled on a puffed up bed of orange. While most of the women of the decade are wearing sleek sophisticated haircuts, this gem is boasting a horde of curls unlike any I’ve ever seen.

The feather settles on Edmund’s lap and I swallow past a moment of envy. I’ve never wanted to be a feather before.

“Gloria, I think you’re cracked. Even if I thought you knew something that we don’t—couldn’t find out on our own—why would I partner up with you?”

I signal the server for my check and then gather my purse and hat. I’ve gathered all the info I need and now it’s time to get to work. Oh, I have plans for Edmund St. John, but all in good time. For now, I have to take care of some things at the office so I can join the rest of our sleepy little town at a new kind of shindig.

At seven this evening, I will be sitting in the front row of the Cascade Theatre. Dame Van Dresden has chosen Miller’s Pit—although I can’t get a grip on why—to debut her new fall line of fashions. The town’s folks have been buzzing for weeks about this event and my mother managed to get prime seats for the entire family. Television crews from all over the world will be sending the show via the link, but we will count ourselves among the elite.

Lucille, that’s my mum, has got an in with just about anybody who is anybody in this town and the next three in every direction. She’s a homemaker, mother, and social guru, that’s what my dad calls her, unstoppable. No one ever tells her no. Well almost no one.

It’s taken me almost two years to rebuild our relationship. I told my mother no.

“Gloria, won’t you please stay at home a few more years, at least until you finish nursing school?”

“No, Mother. I know what I want to do and that’s not it.”

So, out I had moved and shortly after that I got my PI license. That’s Private Investigator. Dad was pretty pleased. Mum on the other hand cried for weeks and didn’t speak to me for twice as long. But anyway.

Tonight, we will be living the high life as special guests to the designer. Mum and Eleanor had been school chums at Miss Chatterham’s School of Etiquette for Demure Ladies. I could live without all the hullabaloo, but Mum deserves a night out and if Dad can do it, so can I.

I thank the server when she brings my change and I nod my goodbye to St. John.

“You dragged me all the way across town for this?” he asks, his annoyance clear in his caustic tone.

“I was mistaken that you could be of service to me at this time. I apologize for the inconvenience. See ya around, St. John.”

The slight tick in his jaw kicks up as I make my way around the table. The sensor catches my approach and the door swings open. I watch him from the corner of my eye as I pass by on my way out the side gate.

“One of these days, Doll, I’m not gonna jump when you say so.”

Maybe just not so high. A smile curves my lips. I can’t help liking the control I have over this particular man. He doesn’t know it, but Edmund St. John is as intrigued by me as I by him.

 

 

 

I Just Wanna Write

Okay, I am having one of those weeks. If you know me, you know that I am a bit of and overachiever. Have been my whole life. I tend to take on way more than I can handle and then stress out about not getting it done when it needs to be done. I know this, I admit this, and I apologize for this.

I am currently working on several projects that need to be done last week. I am editing three books, four short stories, and an anthology. Am I complaining? No, no, no. I love what I do and can only imagine doing one other thing.

I miss writing horribly. My husband says I need to spend half of my day working for others and half of the day writing and promoting my own books. I simply can’t do this. I have responsibilities and my personal pleasure cannot go before them.

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I was recently accused of focusing too much on my personal writing career and not enough on my authors. Really? REALLY??? A couple Facebook posts a day is too much? Seriously! I woke up this morning with an idea swimming around in my head that is begging to be written, but I plunked myself down in my chair and began working on edits for a client. I have added the idea to my idea file, though that file now takes up about 2 GB on my hard drive…sigh

Not sure why I needed to put this out here. I guess I just needed the people I am working for to know that I am working for them and once I am done with their projects, I might take some time to write. After all, I do think I am pretty good at it. 🙂

 

 

 

Moonlight for Maggie (On Sale Now)

Moonlight for Maggie

Coming

September 1, 2012

Excerpt:

Maggie sat down on the step and buried her face in her hands. How could she stand there and lie to him like that? She’d never wanted anyone like she did him. Every time he came near her she wanted to reach out and touch him.

Then do something about it.

“What?”

Tell him. Show him. You’re a big girl; don’t you think it’s time you took control of your life, instead of hiding from it?

Maggie hated it when the voices inside her head made sense. But maybe it was time she took a risk. She stood and headed upstairs. The top step held two options. She could chicken out and hide in her room, or she could do what she really wanted.

She knocked on Paul’s door and waited for him to answer. When he didn’t she opened it anyway. He sat on the edge of his bed with his head resting on his hands. He didn’t look up when she closed the door behind her. She struggled for the right words to say, to tell him how she truly felt. Show him.

She reached up and stroked his hair. She stopped when he tensed. She started to pull away, but his hand caught hers. He pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Paul.”

“I don’t know how to make you understand, Maggie.”

“I do.” Maggie pushed her fingers into his hair and held him tight against her.

“How do I know this is what you want?” He raised his head and stared into her eyes.

Pain and confusion and desire glistened in his eyes. Maggie sensed the depth of each emotion and drew on them. She lowered her head and softly brushed her lips across his. A soft sigh slipped out and blew across his mouth. A second later, his lips crushed against hers. She opened her lips to him and soared with the desperation in his kiss. Shivers of warning followed each stroke of his tongue. His hands moved down to her legs and one at a time pulled them up around him.

“I want to show you where you belong,” he whispered against her mouth.

Maggie turned her face into his neck and took a deep breath. She wanted to belong, more than anything. She pressed her lips against his warm skin and kissed him gently. His head rolled back. She nuzzled his cheek and his day’s growth of whisker brushed against her skin.

It’s All Good!

I said I would work my way through, what I consider to be, the most popular of social networking sites. Today I am going to focus on Good Reads.

Because I know there are so many authors out there who abuse social networking sites for book promotion, I am going to remind you all that these are first, and foremost SOCIAL NETWORKING sites. They were designed to get like-minded people together and socializing–see the connection? In this instance, the topic of conversation is books. Woohoo!

So, with that in mind, Good Reads is the perfect place for us to talk about our books. Notice I did not say promote our books. So what the hell is the point? I know that’s most of you are thinking. The point is to promote our books. Whoa baby, confused? Your head spinning? Promote your books; don’t promote your books. ACK!

This is where you get to show how creative you are. Like any social networking site you should be developing those ever-popular relationships with readers on Good Reads. Don’t just sign up and blast all your new friends with snippets and excerpts on your books.

Here are a few suggestions on how to let readers know about your books.

  • Talk to them.
  • See what they are reading and discuss those books
  • Find readers who read in your genre.
  • Find readers who share your interest in topics.
  • Set up a discussion group for yourself and your books.
  • Set up an author page.

All of these things are quite simple, but totally useless if you don’t follow through on them. Do NOT ask a public question and then never respond to those who answer it. You need to converse with them. Interact. I promise it won’t kill you, despite what the media says to the contrary.

Before I go into the direct options for authors, please note how IMPORTANT the interaction with readers is. Don’t just blast people with your books. Let the programs do the work for you while you talk about books with the other readers.

  • Post the books you are reading.
  • Post your reviews when you finish a book.
  • Add books you’d like to read.
  • Randomly look at other peoples pages and comment on their reviews.

The key to interacting is to communicate with others. I know, we are often solitary creatures, but we alone will not make our books best sellers. We need readers to buy our books.

Good Reads Author Program http://www.goodreads.com/author/program

The first thing you should do if you plan to promote your book is to set up your Good Reads Author page. After you have done that, then you can look into all these other things.

Good Reads eBooks http://www.goodreads.com/ebooks

For those of you who only have eBooks, there is a section where you can upload books for giveaway (use your freebies). You can also use this section to put up excerpts for people to read and get a taste of your style.

Good Reads Giveaways http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway

You can also do giveaways on Good Reads. You decide for how many copies and for how long people can sign up. I don’t suggest giving away large quantities, but it is a GREAT way to get attention.

Good Reads Events http://www.goodreads.com/event

This is a good one. I am a HUGE fan of events and I think more authors should find ways and places to do them. We don’t need no steenking bookstores to do events. The more unique, the better. But my point here is that Good Reads has a section specifically for posting your events. How cool is that?

Good Reads Self-Serve Advertising http://www.goodreads.com/advertisers/ad_home

Advertising a book has never been so easy, or inexpensive. I am on my second ad and while it was a not a huge success, I know of four books I sold because of the ad and I spent less than $10.00.

MOST IMPORTANT TIP!

Don’t be an asshat on the social networking sites. Don’t go blasting in with your book promotion and expect everyone to give a hoot. They won’t. Subtly goes a long way and since Good Reads gives us so many opportunities to promote our work, the only thing we really need to do is to get to know the readers so they know to go look for our stuff.

You can set up your account to post an update when you post a article on your Blog. You can also make sure that when you post a review it goes up on Facebook and/or Twitter. This gives you a little extra exposure without having to actually go to Facebook and get sucked into the cute kitty pictures.

Promoting through social networking doesn’t have to be hard and certainly doesn’t need to be a time suck. But like anything in life, you will only get back what you put in. Of this you can be sure.

Rain Rain Go Away

Today started off on such a down note, that I was not sure I had the strength to make a go of it. Our trip to Disney’s Magic Kingdom yesterday was lovely and relaxing, but the cool wind seems to have left me with a bit of a head cold. But I was determined to make the best of the day.

I spent some time this morning out in the garden it was fertilizing day. So I fed my maters, peppers, onions, carnations, peppers, and even the ginormous cilantro. I also dug out and turned the spot in the front yard where I’m going to put the birdbath and wildflower patch. That was quite hard work as our front yard has those damn weeds that go deep and spread far. So I dug and I turned and I sifted and I turned and I made the most lovely dirt circle.

Yesterday I planted hollyhocks in the front landscaped area in front of the dining room window.

So now…it is pouring down rain. The yard is a big puddle of standing water and I’m certain all my hollyhock seeds have been washed away. Lord help me if they grow in some freaky place in the yard. LOL

I spent several hours editing, I hope you all like Arabian Dreams by J.A. Campbell as much as I do when it comes out.

I also set up a new boutique company designed to help authors. I love publishing and I see myself doing it forever, but there are those authors who want to self-publish. That is where they can make more money. No problem with that. My problem is when authors try to do it themselves when they have no idea what they are doing. My new brainchild will offer writers and other small business people a helping hand. So if you need help self-publishing or increasing your visibility with readers and other consumers. I hope you will tell them about Sassy Gal Enterprises.

Things are changing faster than I care for in my life and it is more than a little bit scary. Trying to build a business and maintain a family is hard work, but the payoff is splendid.

So today’s question is for the gardeners out there. How do you know when to transplant the onions you started from seed? I’ve got a bunch and I don’t want to wait too long or go too soon.