AJ's Tattered Pages

Monday, July 23, 2012

FINALIST! GOLDEN ACORN CONTEST!

I'm bouncing beyond the stratosphere to announce that Rowena's Key, the first book in my Golden Key Series (not to mention my first attempt at writing all things paranormal/fantasy) has finaled in the Charter Oak Romance Writer's Golden Acorn Contest! What a great way to start the week!

In case you missed the cover in my sidebar, here is the mock up, designed by my dear friend and uber-talented cover artist Arial Burnz!

Stay tuned for more updates! I believe contest placement is determined by September 1st! Whoot!

Friday, July 13, 2012

Vonnie's Thirteen Reasons to LOVE Friday the 13th!

Thanks for having me here today, AJ. You said I could choose any date to come to Tattered Pages and laughed when I chose Friday the thirteenth. (Admittedly, I did. However, anyone who knows Vonnie, understands why I laughed. XO)

You see, the number 13 has been unlucky for centuries. Experts aren’t entirely sure why, either. The ancient Babylon’s Code of Hannurabi omits the number 13 on its list of laws, so the superstition dates back to at least 1700 BC. Even today, most tall buildings don’t have a 13^th floor.

The number’s association with Friday, however, didn’t take hold until the 20^th century. In 1907, eccentric Boston stockbroker Thomas Lawson published a book called Friday the Thirteenth, which told of an evil businessman’s attempt to crash the stock market on the unluckiest day of the month. Thanks to an extensive ad campaign, the book sold well—nearly 28,000 copies within the first week. Thus, began the whole Friday 13^th phenomenon.

So, I ask you, if a male author could start this whole Friday, the thirteenth nonsense, can’t a female author undo it? Let’s think about this for a few moments, shall we? I think you’ll agree that I present my case quite well.

13 Reasons why Friday the 13^th is NOT Unlucky

(Forgive the double negative)

ONE: If you’re able to read this post, even with the aid of glasses, how can today be unlucky?

TWO: If you have the physical agility to make…sigh…ah…to make your bed this morning, again I ask, how can today be unlucky?

THREE: If your refrigerator is bare, and you need to go out for a six-pack, how can that be unlucky?

FOUR: And if you’ve got a vehicle to drive to the store to get that six-pack, aren’t you also lucky?

FIVE: If you have pets around you to brighten your life today, how can that be unlucky?

SIX: If angels hover among us—and I believe they do—then how can today be unlucky?

SEVEN: If you had clean tighty-whities to put on this morning…Oh. My. God…ahem, all that meat and no potatoes…sigh…how can today be unlucky?

EIGHT: If today’s hot enough for a dip in the pool, how can it be unlucky? Aren’t we blessed by water?

NINE: Or for that matter, if it’s so hot you want to take off your shirt, being lucky is having a shirt to take off. Right?

TEN: If you have a hat to keep the sun from your eyes, then what grand luck you’ve got.

ELEVEN: If you’ve got plenty of heels in your closet, how can that be unlucky? Don’t we love shoes? I know I do.

TWELVE: If we find a grey hair today, isn’t that also a lucky find? I mean, ah….

THIRTEEN: And if your pants are so tight, you have no room for your cell phone or keys, can we label that as unlucky? I don’t think so. Although I DO think I see my tube of maxi-thick-mascara…

Ladies, do you get my drift? What we make of any given situation creates the luck, not the situation itself or the date. We all have the ability to react either positively or negatively to whatever’s thrown at us. Perhaps not initially, when our nerves are raw with pain, but eventually.

Take my hero Win Fairchild in Those Violet Eyes. One could call him unlucky. He’s certainly been through hell and back. In Iraq he lost three of his buddies, part of his leg and some of his hearing. But Win’s determined to make his own luck. He’s determined to somehow make the world a better place, even though his mental world is a mass of mangled war debris.

Here’s an excerpt of the second time Win and Evie come face to face. Evie, a waitress at the Lonesome Steer honky tonk, goes back to the kitchen to introduce herself to the new cook.

Evie charged through the swinging door to the kitchen and skidded to a stop. It couldn’t be. Although his back was toward her, there was no mistaking the height and broad muscled shoulders. This mystery nephew of Gus’s was the guy who’d remarked on her eyes. Her stomach did a little twitchy dance, nerves no doubt.
She ran her suddenly damp palms over her short skirt and cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Win?”

No answer.

She took a couple steps closer and noticed he was washing vegetables under a spray of water. “Win?”

No reply.

Evie rolled her eyes and stepped behind him, tapping him on the back. The metal strainer clattered in the sink and a blur of motion barely registered before steely hands gripped her forearms. Oh my God! In a flurry of movement, he snatched her off the floor and backed her against the stainless steel counter. Cold wet hands viced her arms. Her eyes snapped wide and the air whooshed from her lungs when his body slammed into hers.

Win’s eyes were narrowed, his breathing rapid through a clenched jaw and a vein bulged in his forehead. “Don’t do that.”

The man was every inch the warrior, every hard tensed inch. He held her mid-air, so close they were nearly eyeball to eyeball. As his gaze traveled over her face and awareness evidently crept in as to the sex of his attacker, several inches of his frame hardened even more.

Evie swallowed. Oh, good Lord.

He glared and his nostrils flared.

“I…I’m sorry, Win. I called your name, but…but you didn’t answer. I was only trying to get your attention.” Her lips twitched at the humor in the situation—hadn’t Keira told her the man lost part of his hearing? Evidently she’d startled him. Poor soul. She felt a portion of herself return. A portion she’d hidden for so long; that light-hearted part of her soul that teased and cajoled. “Honest, I wasn’t trying to attack you.” She placed an open palm on his defined pecs and patted. “You’re safe with me, big guy.” Just to rattle him some more, she winked.

Win’s hazel eyes flashed for a second, then he slowly leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You’re not safe with me.”

A shiver galloped pell-mell through her. He smelled of pine soap and musk. His short, spiky, straw-colored hair tickled her neck when he lowered his head a fraction. Warm lips barely grazed her skin, igniting a sensual fire in her system. Her eyebrows furrowed in question. Had he just kissed her below the ear? It was so brief, so feather light her mind wasn’t sure. Her nipples, though, piped up in confirmation. Hell yeah, he kissed you! Me next, me next!

BUY LINKS:

THE WILD ROSE PRESS -- http://bit.ly/ThoseVioletEyes
AMAZON -- http://bit.ly/TVEVonnieDavis

Thank you so much, Vonnie, for being my guest today! I can't remember the last time I had such a great time on Friday the 13th!

XO AJ XO

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Meet Sir Sean Wilbrun from By Right of Blood!

I'm thrilled to have Lorrieann Russell at Tattered Pages today, who brings with her a peek inside her latest release "By Right of Blood"! Grab a cup of your favorite morning brew, settle in and meet Sir Sean Douglas Wilbrun. Take it away, Lorrieann!

My name is Lorrieann Russell and I am the author of my newly re-released novel, By Right of Blood. William Fybrigge is the main character of the story but he does not occupy his world alone, of course. One of the many who populate the world of Drumoak Castle in my fictional rendering of Stonehaven, Scotland at the turn of the 17^th century is William’s closest friend and confidante, Sean Douglas Wilbrun. Without further ado, I give you Sir Sean.

~ * ~

Looking back on that day, I have to laugh. Not that it was particularly funny, but because I was so young yet thought I was a man just because Lord Edward clapped my shoulder with the rusted blade of my second-hand sword. Lord Edward had a way to make the humble feel noble; always a kind and encouraging word to all who served him. But make no mistake, he was the Duke and my sovereign, and I was bound by an oath of fealty to serve him with my very life — though I was proud and honored to do it.

I was willing and ready to die in the service of my duke if called upon to do so, so the humor lies in the task I was given on that first day of my knighthood. I was not called upon to prove my manhood or my loyalty, but to play nurse to a child who was sent to the castle for fostering. I say child, for that is what I saw when I found him for the first time, cowering under the straw in the barn. He had the look more of a fawn lost among wolves than the son of a nobleman — which is what he truly was. This lad came from one of the richest earls of Lord Edward’s duchy and yet he cowered, clad in tattered filthy garments, all eyes and — I know it sounds harsh — but without the common sense God gave a rock.

The lad was terrified! Of what? Drumoak? Lord Edward? Aye! He was afeared of the very place that would prove to be his salvation in time. And upon my first day as a guard to the duke, I was asked to look after him — to remain a child for just a little longer.

I was reluctant, but an order is an order. I had no idea that day would be the beginning of a lifelong friendship and bond. It did not take long for me to come to know the lad, and see there was far more behind those wide eyes than fear. I learned more than I could ever dream just standing with him, watching him, guiding him (or was he guiding me all that time?).

I served the duke with my honor as I had vowed — but my loyalty would be to my friend from there forward.

~ * ~

Thank you, Sean. I look forward to the rest of your story. It can be read in By Right of Blood, available at Amazon.com and other online booksellers.

Good night,
Lorrieann

Blurb:
William Fylbrigge is ill prepared to claim what is his, by right of blood, and his place among the powerful clan he has been born into. His older brother Thomas doesn’t want to share what he thinks is rightfully his, secretly arranging to have the young lad killed in a convenient “accident.” William could lose everything, including his life.

Sean Wilbrun, the son of a common groomsman, transcends the barriers of his class and station when he is elevated to the esteemed ranks of guard for Lord Edward, Duke of Stonehaven. His first assignment, however, is not to wield a sword to protect his duke, but instead to attend to the newly arrived foster son.

William and Sean soon form an unlikely duo and a lasting bond as together they face Thomas’ accusations of murder and treason.

Author Bio:

Lorrieann Russell has written three books (so far) chronicling the life and times of William Fylbrigge: By Right of Blood, My Brother’s Keeper, and In the Wake of Ashes. She has also published several short stories, and has been a featured guest on Edin Road Radio. She is an accomplished artist, illustrator, photographer and designer. A native New Englander, she spends much of her time in the mountains of New Hampshire, hiking and taking pictures of the landscape.

Author Contact and Websites
Home page: http://lorrieannrussell.wordpress.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LorrieannRussell
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/LorrieannTweets
Email: lorrieann.russell@edinroad.com

Excerpt:

He leaned against the stall, scooping up a piece of hay to chew on, noticing a slight movement near the wall. He dropped down, sitting cross-legged with his back to the pile.

“Must have been some ride you had. I know the Causey Mounth road from Aberdoir can be quite a fright along the cliffs,” he said casually and paused to listen. The rustling stopped. “The ruts are so close to the edge, if the horse makes one bad step, och! ‘Tis fearsome. Is that what’s frightened you, lad? The road?” He risked a glance over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t blame you if it did. I surely don’t like riding Causey Mounth – especially after it’s rained like it has.”

Still no reply.

Frustrated, Sean idly scanned the barn until he spied a basket of early apples not far from where he was sitting. “You don’t mind if I do m’ chores? I need t’ feed the horses, you see.” He stood and scooped up a couple of apples and headed to the first stall occupied by an animal. “This is Hawk. He’s a yearling. Not quite broken yet but he’ll be a fine mount one day.” He pulled a sharp dirk from his belt and sliced one apple in half, holding one half flat-palmed for the horse. “I’m hoping he’ll be mine. He suits me.” Another glance over his shoulder and he caught sight of a pair of wide green eyes peeking through the straw. There you are. Papa’s right, you do have big eyes. He moved to the next stall.

“This one is Ceres. No one has ridden him yet. He’s full of fire, this one.” He stroked the horse’s nose, then offered the other half of the apple. “Do you like horses?”

The straw moved slightly and Sean could see an entire face now. Small and staring, the boy looked no more than eight years old. I thought Edward said he was twelve?

Sean gave him a smile in greeting, then turned his attention back to the horse. “There’re more to feed; would you like to help?”

The boy did not answer but Sean saw him peek out a little more, looking toward the other stalls. He sliced another apple and moved down. “Hello, Gallant, are you hungry? Aye, I see you are. There’s plenty … there you are.”

A moment later, Sean felt someone standing close behind him. He did not turn but kept to his task of feeding the horses. When he’d run out of apples with two horses left to feed, he turned to reach into the basket for more. Instead, he found the lad holding out an apple with one hand. Sean smiled and took it from him, slicing it in half. “Thank you.”

The boy nodded, then stood back, half concealing himself behind a post. Sean fed one half of the apple to the horse in the stall, then held out the other half toward William. “Star may like this one.”

William stared at the apple, then up to Sean, then back to the apple.

“Go on, she won’t hurt you. Just hold it like this, with your palm flat.”

William took it and held it to the filly in the stall he stood next to. She nickered and chomped it down, shaking her mane in gratitude. Sean saw William’s eyes widen and the trace of a smile cross his face. He also noticed something else – ghastly purple marks encircling his fragile looking wrists. He quickly averted his sight, so as not to startle the lad. He’s been bound! Good God. What am I dealing with here?

“She likes it,” William whispered.

Sean forced a smile, somewhat shaken by the dark hollows under William’s eyes when the lad turned to look at him. “Would you like to give her another one?” he asked, making an effort to keep his tone as gentle as possible.

Just as William was about to answer, there came voices from outside. It was Laurel speaking to Arthur. William spun on his heel and, without warning, dove back into the hay.

“Lad … wait, there’s nothing to …” Sean stopped and gasped at the sight before him. He hadn’t seen the boy’s back before now and he stopped, astonished. The shirt was flayed open in crimson-stained shreds, the flesh beneath caked in dried blood. He stood for a moment, not finding anything to say to the boy but knowing something needed to be done. Sean turned and headed toward the door. He’d have to let Edward know what he’d seen, and to let him know that he’d have to wait a while longer to meet his new foster son.

Reviews

Author Lorrieann Russell has used great imagination and artistic creativity in By Right of Blood. Her talent shines through the characters she has so lovingly created and this talent spills over into the world of the reader, allowing them to walk with the characters through the streets of the market, to the cliffs above the ocean. Feel their fear as they run through the woods, and into the meadows escaping hunters and those that would do them harm, only to prevail in the end. Experience their happiness and their sorrows, as they fight to make their mark in the world surrounding them.

I give By Right of Blood five stars *****

Nora Chipley Barteau
Reviewers Helping Authors

http://norachipleybarteau.blogspot.com/

* * *

A real page turner, this novel captures you from beginning to end. You seem to become part of the adventure as you join the characters on their journey. Russell's descriptions of places and characters make it easy to picture these things as you read. I absolutely loved this novel and look forward to anymore work by this wonderful and talented author. If you have not read By Right of Blood by Lorrieann Russell, I strongly suggest you pick up a copy. This book is full of drama, action, romance. All the things that are needed to make a wonderful work of Fiction for readers to enjoy. An excellent novel. I won't hesitate to read anything with Lorrieann Russell on the cover.

J. M. Barfield
Reader review

* * *

There is one essential element that stories must have in order for me to be fascinated. They must have a conflict. I can honestly say that Lorrieann has succeeded here. The conflict was immediate. Right from the beginning in the first two pages I knew I was going to read all the way to the end. By the time 10 pages had passed, I was emotionally bonded to the characters. When you can step into a story and consider someone your brother or sister, the author has done their job. I would recommend this book to anyone high school and above.

Linda Horne

www.ebookitreviews.com

Friday, June 1, 2012

IT'S ALMOST TIME FOR THAT DATING THING!!

I cannot even tell you what a thrill it is for me to have Mackenzie Crowne at Tattered Pages today, with her latest up-and-coming release THAT DATING THING! I was given the ultimate pleasure of working with Mac on this story, and honestly I can't wait until she blesses me with another manuscript. Hurry up, Mac!!! I need MORE!!! THAT DATING THING releases this month from Still Moments Publishing, but if you leave her a comment, your name will be entered into the drawing for your very own FREE copy. Don't miss out! This story is laugh out loud hilarious. But enough of my gabbing... Please join me in welcoming one of the most talented authors I know!!! Yay! Take it away, Mac!

Whoot! Bells and whistles, and some happy dancing, too. My contemporary romance, THAT DATING THING, is about to hit the virtual shelves!

Can you tell I’m excited? I can’t help myself. As a storyteller, I can honestly say, I’ve never enjoyed the writing process so much. Shhh. Don’t tell the characters from my other stories because I wouldn’t want their feelings hurt, but these characters took me along on a fun-filled ride I didn’t want to see end. Rylee is a woman with whom I can see myself swilling martinis.

*AJ says, me too! Oh! Can I come? Can I? Can I?*

Coop simply makes my heart sigh, and as for Pippin? Oh yeah. I definitely see a Great Dane in my future. The thought of one jammed into my Jeep wrangler, tongue hanging out as we explore the backroads of the southwest, brings a wide smile to my face.

Yeah, I’m a goof, but I’m a goof on cloud 9! And I’m thrilled to be visiting with AJ today. She’s earned my undying appreciation, you see. *winks at AJ, the best damn editor ever* She saw something in THAT DATING THING and put her nose to the grindstone to help polish and prepare my lighthearted, romantic romp in the midst of Wall Street greed for publication. Working with AJ was not only educational, but a frigging blast as well. I can’t thank her enough for sharing her incredible editorial prowess with a relative newbie. But enough about my literary crush…

*AJ blushes. Do you now see why I love this woman? Geesh! And what Mac isn't telling you is that honestly, the pleasure was all mine. *

Who the heck would think to combine Wall Street greed and lighthearted romance, you ask? A news junkie who loves a fun contemporary romance. That’s who. The Bernie Madoff scandal fascinated me from day one. I mean, who the hell did this guy think he was? Like dictators around the world, who narcissistically believe they have the right to run the lives of others, and think nothing of using brutality to convince non-believers to go along with their delusions of grandeur, the Wall Street financier brutalized his investor’s hard won portfolios, treating them like his own personal piggy bank. Okay, so my comparison is a bit of a stretch. Unlike a dictator’s victims, Bernie’s investors were somewhat complicit in their brutalization. Apparently they chose to ignore the old saying: If something appears too good to be true, it probably is. Still, families were destroyed by Bernie’s crimes, including his own, and they were the inspiration for THAT DATING THING.

I personally have no experience with criminal tendencies in my own family. My dad was the most ethical man I’ve ever met. Let’s face it, a man who marches his four year old back to the corner store to return a pilfered piece of bubble gum (No, it wasn’t me. I’ve always been too much of a weenie to steal anything.) would never even consider lining his pockets through a ponzi scheme. But for the innocent children of those who would, what must life be like? Rylee Pierce, the heroine of THAT DATING THING, is one of those innocents.

Continuously painted with a guilty brush, thanks to her father’s notoriety, Rylee does what any rational woman would do. She changes her identity, starts up a dog training business, and learns to fly beneath society’s radar. Boring! Well crap. We can’t have that! Dictators and ponzi schemers aren’t the only ones who believe they have the right to control the lives of others. Authors do it all the time through their writings. I’m no different, and I love nothing better than shaking up my character’s lives through laughter.

Enter one long legged, exuberant Great Dane, an inheritance sure to piss off Rylee’s father’s victims, and a sexy, assistant district attorney with political ambitions, and what have you got? Love, laughter, and romance. Three of my most favorite things. Here is an excerpt:

Rylee reacted to Coop’s suggestive comment exactly as he expected. She blinked and a tiny frown creased her brow. Whenever the conversation veered toward anything even remotely personal, she either fell back on that sarcastic wit she’d perfected or she retreated into silence. Like now.

Curious contradictions lurked beneath the carefree, lighthearted image she projected. She’d dismissed his show of interest, along with his invitation to meet his friends, and yet he caught her watching him several times during dinner, her eyes full of feminine awareness. Her aunt’s matchmaking annoyed her, but she smiled and teased him, including him in the family camaraderie around the table.

Confusion trumped wariness in her eyes now. He’d thrown her off-balance. Good. Since meeting her the other day, she’d been popping into his head with annoying regularity. Why should he be alone in his madness?

He’d been anxious to see her again, telling himself he’d imagined the unprecedented sexual pull he’d experienced for Elliott’s step-daughter, step-cousin—step-whatever. His imagination was in play, all right. From the moment he’d seen her again, he’d envisioned her in a number of different situations. She’d been naked in all of them.

And he wasn’t the only one experiencing the pull. Those flashes of feminine awareness in her dark-chocolate eyes broadcast her attraction to him, an attraction she evidently planned to ignore. He’d see about that. He hadn’t earned his reputation as a successful prosecutor by backing away from a difficult case, and the beautiful dog trainer was a case he meant to crack.

He turned away and wandered further into the room. Pippin trotted at his side.

“So, this is The Canine Academy?” He eyed the cages. “Where are your other students?”

A soft release of pent up breath reached his ears and he smiled. Yes, off balance was just how he wanted her.

“Gone for the day.”

“Why is Pippin still here?”

“Pippin required a more intense program. He’s our only boarder at the moment.”

“Have dinner with me,” he said, without turning around. She didn’t answer and he waited several beats before glancing over his shoulder. Her eyes shuttered, she fell back on sarcasm.

“We just finished dinner. What do you have, a tapeworm?”

He faced her. “I’d like to take you to dinner, Rylee.”

Her hand went to Belle’s head beside her and she jutted her chin up a notch. “That wouldn’t be a good idea, Coop.”

“Why? I’m attracted to you, and a man can tell when the attraction is mutual.”

She said nothing, returning his gaze while she scratched the fur between Belle’s ears.

“It’s just a meal.” He crossed his arms. “I’m not suggesting we jet off to Vegas.”

She snorted softly. “That’s a relief. Casinos give me a headache.”

The dry sarcasm made him smile. She hadn’t said no.

“Look, you’re a great-looking guy.”

He flashed a grin, pleased when her lips twitched in response.

“And I admit you have a certain amount of charm.”

“But?”

“But, your father is married to my aunt.”

“Your mother’s cousin,” he corrected. He dropped his arms to his sides and stepped toward her. “And Dad and Silvia can get their own dinner.”

Her lips formed a genuine smile, but she shook her head. “People rarely come out of this kind of thing on friendly terms.”

“This kind of thing?” He continued to advance.

“We’re connected through Sil and Elliott. I don’t want to see them caught in the middle when this…dating thing, or whatever it is you’re after, ends.”

“This dating thing?”

“Or whatever it is you’re after,” she repeated. As he closed the distance, she stepped back and bumped up against the shark cage. She slapped her spread fingers against his chest to prevent him from coming any closer. “I’m not in the market for a relationship right now.”

“Then we don’t have a problem, because neither am I.” He brushed a fingertip over the perfect skin of her cheekbone. “So, here’s what I suggest.”

Her eyelids fluttered, pupils dilating, and reluctant temptation replaced the wariness in her dark orbs. Still, she kept a defensive hand on his chest.

“If you insist on negotiating when I’ve already explained my concerns,” she said, holding his gaze, “I’d rather you didn’t touch me.”

He checked the urge to kiss her at the artless admission of finding his touch disturbing. Instead, he moved his hand to the cage beside her head. He wrapped his fingers around the metal bar and dipped his head, bringing his face closer to hers. She blinked but held her ground, boldly meeting his gaze.

“I propose we get to know one another,” he pressed. “A few dinners. Maybe a show, or a ball game or two if you like. We find out what makes each other tick.”

“Hmmm.” Her mouth moved into a smirk. “Five seconds ago you were talking a meal. Now it’s a few dinners and a ball game or two. At this rate we’ll be jetting off to Vegas by the end of the week.”

She didn’t try to stop him when he took the final step that brought their bodies within inches of each other. “Has anyone ever accused you of being a wiseass?”

Head cocked as though considering the question, her mouth quivered on a smile. “Nope.”

“How about a liar?”

She lost the battle with the smile and her low laugh sent a lash of desire whipping across his midsection. He did what he’d wanted to do since arriving at his father’s condo days ago. Leaning in, he took...

I’ll be giving away a free e-copy of THAT DATING THING to one lucky commenter. As for the rest of you, I hope you’ll pick up a copy, and that you’ll enjoy reading Rylee’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Thanks so much for visiting with me today. I love meeting new friends. You can find me at my web home MackenzieCrowne.com Twitter and Facebook

Mac

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING HERE TODAY, MAC! I LOVES YA', BABE! And for our visitors, don't forget to leave a comment for the chance to win a copy of THAT DATING THING! WHOOT!

XO AJ XO

Friday, May 25, 2012

Welcome fellow Contemporary Western Author, Paty Jager!!

I'm thrilled to welcome award-winning author Paty Jager to Tattered Pages, who brings an intriguing post offering a peek inside her world beyond the pages of her books! And don't forget to leave a comment, because she's graciously offered to send a $5 Amazon e-card to one lucky visitor!
Take it away, Paty!!

How my world shapes my writing

I’ve dabbled in different venues of writing over the course of my lifetime. First as a child writing plays for stuffed animals, then at thirteen writing stories of love and lust that my friends and I passed back and forth—adding scenes, to witnessing what words can do when an English teacher read one of my assigned fiction projects to the class, all the way through writing children’s stories for my kids, writing murder mystery when I wanted to kill someone (killed that person off in two manuscripts), writing for the local paper when it fit my lifestyle, and then to settle into historical western romance only to find myself still drawn to mystery/action adventure writing.

Each stage of my writing had to do with what was going on in and around me at the time so it only makes sense that I find myself writing about history—American History, specifically the 1800s has always been my favorite subject. I love museums, historical sites, and finding bits of history that were so integral to life when this country was spreading and growing.

I think having grown up in a semi-isolated part of the state that was slow to get technology brought out the pioneer spirit in me. Until I was twelve, my paternal grandparents lived with us. There were seven people in a three-bedroom, one-bath farmhouse. We had a woodshed where we chopped kindling and stored the wood for the cookstove. When we did get an electric range we still had a wood heating stove and used the wood cookstove when the power went out—which was fairly often. When the power went out we used kerosene and oil lamps, the outhouse, and hauled buckets of water to the house from the ditch. Looking back, it was usually in the winter that the power went out. And on many occasions the pipes from the well to the house froze, and we had to haul water to the house.

My family had a small herd of dairy cows and used an old hand crank separator to separate the milk from the cream. We used the milk for ourselves and the hogs we raised. We made our own butter from the cream and sold the rest to the creamery. We raised 100 chickens every year, butchering all but thirty, which were laying hens. I hated the smell of the wet feathers after I dunked them in the boiling water to loosen the feathers. And disemboweling them and cutting them up—I’d always offer to fold clothes, clean the bathroom, or whatever other chore I could think of, than spend hours smelling the feathers and butchered chickens. My grandmother sold extra eggs to neighbors and the local grocery store.

These are all events in my life that easily happened in the era of the historical westerns I write. I can feel the continuous heat of the woodstove, hear the clank of the metal plates as grandma put more kindling in the fire. Smell the acrid smoke that slipped through the chimney that went through my bedroom. I more or less lived the life I write about in my historical westerns.

And now, ranching with my husband, I've encountered many of the obstacles that I write about in my contemporary westerns.

And I grew up in the land of Chief Joseph's Nez Perce band and have always had a fascination for them and believe I saw an apparition of a Nez Perce warrior one summer day while riding my horse in the mountains. That moment has stuck with me and I believe that to be the catalyst that pushed me to write the spirit trilogy.

Now, I’m drawn to action/adventure and mystery stories. I believe the mystery comes from the fact that as I age I wonder more and more about why people do what they do and find the reasons behind the good and bad things they do intriguing, and this sets my mind up to want to write mysteries for others to unravel. The action/adventure stories allow me to live vicariously through my characters and visit, even if only through research, places I’ve wondered about.

If you are a writer, what shaped the genre you write? If you are a reader, what is your favorite genre to read and why? I’ll pick a name from the comments and send the winner a $5 Amazon egift card.

Wife, mother, grandmother, and the one who cleans pens and delivers the hay; award winning author Paty Jager and her husband currently ranch 350 acres when not dashing around visiting their children and grandchildren. She not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it.

Her Contemporary Western, Perfectly Good Nanny won the 2008 Eppie for Best Contemporary Romance, Spirit of the Mountain, a historical paranormal set among the Nez Perce, garnered 1^st place in the paranormal category of the Lories Best Published Book Contest, and Spirit of the Lake, the second book of the spirit trilogy, was a finalist in the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence.

You can learn more about Paty at her blog; www.patyjager.blogspot.com her website; http://www.patyjager.net or on Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/#!/paty.jager and twitter; @patyjag.

Thank you so much for visiting with me today, Paty! I love your photo...so, so pretty. And everyone else, don't forget to leave a comment to be entered into the draw for a $5 Amazon e-card!

XO AJ XO

Friday, May 11, 2012

Save a Kitty, Keep a Tale

Lionesses and felines in Egypt

Lynxes, leopards, tigers and cheetahs, cougars and jaguars, lions and the common house cat are all members of the Felidae family. :)

In ancient Egypt, both cats and lions were revered.

While the Egyptians chose the cat to represent the love goddess Bast, the fierce lioness shared her nature and her features with the goddess Sekhmet. Just as a cat stalks an unsuspecting mouse (or whatever catches its fancy), the lioness could stalk a stray Egyptian should he or she become lost within the lioness’ territory. Lions roamed the outlying areas of the desert, and it is said they charged with the pharaohs into battle. (1) The Egyptians thought the animals so fierce, the weather might shy away. Lion sculptures were even set at the pinnacle of temples, gargoyle-like, to guard against lightning.

In their pantheon, the lioness was a protector and companion to the god Ra. She accompanied him on his daily journey across the sky in his sun chariot. So, it was to Sekhmet Ra turned when he needed to teach humanity a lesson. In turn, she went on a rampage that nearly annihilated civilization. Ra mixed a sleeping draught with blood and pomegranate juice and tricked his daughter into drinking it. Whatever the recipe, the drink did the trick and calmed her wrath. (2) To this day, festivals are performed in summer to—hopefully—keep the ;) kitty satisfied. Revelries filled with laughter, with dancing, and...beer.

This is the basis for my story What Sekhmet Keeps presented in Dark Things II: Cat Crimes

And don’t forget, all proceeds from Dark Things II: Cat Crimes will be donated to The Cat House on The Kings, a no-kill cat shelter in California. For more information, see their website at: http://www.cathouseonthekings.com/

A collection of tales featuring feline mayhem, murder and dastardly deeds. Vampire cats. Scoundrel cats. Daring cats. Killer cats. Cats you don't want in your worst nightmares and cats you might want on your side against evil. Authors include Mary V. Welk, Patty G. Henderson, Patricia Harrington, Jim Silvestri, Ken Goldman, Shanna Germain, Anna Sykora and dozens more. Intro by Robert W. Walker. All proceeds from sales go to several cat sanctuaries across the USA. Enjoy over twenty-one “cat tales” and support a cat charity!

Sources:
(1) http://www.touregypt.net/featurestories/lions.htm
(2) http://www.orderwhitemoon.org/goddess/Sekhmet.html

Buy links: Amazon for Kindle and paperback Lulu (for Epub version)

And now for sneak peek inside

What Sekhmet Keeps

by J.D. Revezzo

Betrayed by a false lover, cat shifter priestess Onfalia Mau lost her lioness soul and freedom to her lover's treachery and the testy goddess Sekhmet's wrath. Now, after three thousand years, that lover, Donkar, has returned with one thing in mind—to steal the goddess's scepter. Onfalia knows that to do so means to unleash Sekhmet’s unholy, bloody Slaughter on the world, and she'll stop at nothing to foil Donkar's plans.

Excerpt:

Claws dimpled his skin, as if she sought attention. She nuzzled her head into his hand and purred.

Chibale tapped her on the nose. “Now, don’t try to charm me, kitty. I can’t keep you. Out.”

She purred louder and nuzzled his chest.

“Oh, hell.” He carried the cat into the kitchen and poured her the last of his milk. “I don’t mind black coffee, anyway. But tomorrow, we’re finding your owner.”

He dropped his jacket onto the chair then sat down before his computer. The cat leapt onto the desk as he went to work. When he misspelled the goddess’ name, the cat reached out a paw and hit the delete key back to the S-e-k. Chibale stared at her. “Did you belong to an English teacher?”

The search engine suggested Sekhmet and he carried on with his work.

The cat slipped into his lap as he read the first promising page.

Goddess of Lions. A daughter of Ra; represented the scorching power of the sun.

“Lion. Sun.” He shook his head. “Never did understand these stupid stories. ‘When mankind rebelled against Ra’s domain, Sekhmet attacked, slaughtering thousands and drinking their blood.’ Sounds like a nice wholesome girl.” The cat shifted in his lap and stretched up, resting her paws against the edge of the keyboard. “You’re so interested in mythology, should I give you to Onfalia?”

She looked at him and he scratched her ears as he returned to his search.

Scepter, Sekhmet. “How does this tie into the stolen scepter? Any idea, kit?”

Two hours into his search, a headline caught his attention: Slaying Uptown. Occult in Nature?

“So obvious.” The cat meowed and Chibale looked down at her, meeting her tawny eyes. “Oh, you think so too, do you?”

Festival to appease Sekhmet’s slaughter.

“Hopefully they won’t do the opposite, eh kitty?”

There you are. I hope you enjoy this fabulous anthology. J

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING HERE TODAY, J.D.! AND FOR GIVING US THE INFORMATION ABOUT THIS COLLECTION OF STORIES AND HOW THE PROCEEDS GO TOWARD THIS VERY WORTHY CAUSE!

XO AJ XO