Special Guest Chris Redding!

Today’s Special Guest is my good friend Chris Redding!! Check out her Interview and Book Excerpt!


Why did you start writing and when did you decide to go professional?

I began writing when I was ten. I began again when I was pregnant with my second child more than sixteen years ago. At that point, I figured if I was going to put in the time I might as well try to sell it.

Do you write in more than one genre? Which ones and which do you like the best?

All of what I write comes under the heading of romance, but I write in two sub genres, romantic suspense and romantic comedy. I like both equally. It’s nice to write a rom com after the darkness and heaviness of a romantic suspense.

What is the most difficult part of the entire writing process for you? Queries, pitches, editing..etc.

The marketing. That is not how my brain works, but it is necessary if I expect to be successful, I need to do it. Books are a product and if you don’t tell people about them they won’t know to buy it.

ON SALE .99c License to Nerd (Book 1 in the Nerds Saving the World Series) http://amzn.com/B00M9O0QZ4

Book Excerpt:
“He just has to help me,” she said to no one. Because no one occupied the alley.

Until a man rounded the corner.

The way the man slammed into her, she knew it wasn’t an accident.

He could have gone around her, but he didn’t. She turned to give him a good Jersey Girl dressing down, when he grabbed her arm. He jerked her close. She looked up into deep-set eyes that held no soul.

The snarky retort died on her lips.

“We want the package, Madison.”


Holy crap. How did he know her name? How did he know about the package? Her heart jumped into her throat. She yanked on her arm, looking around hoping for witnesses.

No one else walked this stretch of the sidewalk. Odd since it was lunchtime. Maybe this man made this happen. His blocking of the road meant power.

Turning back to him, she asked, “What package?”

Madison wanted to snarl at him, but she needed to play the innocent so she shuddered.

“The one your husband sent you,” in a voice that spoke of years of cigarette use.

“I don’t have any package.” Her words tumbled over themselves as he gripped her tighter. His hot, spicy breath wrinkled her nose.

“We know it arrived. You have it. We want it.”


What the hell was Charlie into? Why did he send her that package? Damn him. She would like to give Charlie a nice roundhouse kick, but she after she dealt with this asshole.

“Uh, I don’t have it.”

“Yes, you do.”

Chris Redding lives in New Jersey with her husband, two kids, one dog and two show rabbits. Her youngest son is a member of 4-H, hence the show rabbits.
Chris graduated from Penn State with a degree in Journalism and is still a diehard Nittany Lions fan. In fact, she bleeds Penn State Blue!  Her dream is to get her Masters in Education degree and teach creative writing at Penn State.
Her books are filled with romance, suspense and thrills. She also dabbles in copywriting, including web content and product descriptions. When she isn’t writing, she works for a local winery.

Email: chrisreddingauthor@gmail.com
Website: www.chrisreddingauthor.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/253606058045505
Twitter: www.twitter.com/chrisredding
Google Plus: https://plus.google.com/101743269602364199911/posts
Skype: Chris.Redding.Author
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/chrisredding/

The Sin of Procrastination by Irene Peterson

                The Sin of Procrastination
I’ve started this post twice already. Had to stop to put a load of wash in the dryer and make supper,

but here I am, back at the computer and rarin’ to go.

Let me say this first. A writer should not procrastinate. Every thought left hanging in the air is bound to get lost unless one is careful to make notes.  Except when it’s midnight and you’re really sleepy.  Then, instead of getting up and writing down that fabulous idea, you put it off until morning, when, of course, it will be gone.
I speak from personal experience, of course.  I can’t tell you how many great ideas I’ve lost, but then, we’re all pretty much guilty of putting off things.
Six years ago I started a book about a widow who goes to the seashore during the very end of World War II.  Of course, I went gangbusters and polished off six chapters immediately.  I had lots of notes and did months of research since I couldn’t write about the war personally, missing it by three years. I even traveled to the seashore to note the color of the ocean, went to two museums and gleaned all the facts and interesting war anecdotes I could.  The notes piled up.
Then, I got sick.  I mean seriously sick and this great idea got put on the back burner.  For five years. It burned in my brain, of course, along with other chemical nastiness, but while I did write some weird stories based on my pharmacologically induced dreams, I did not touch the WWII book.
My friends kept bugging me to work on it.  So, occasionally to shut them up, I’d write a scene that I felt would really get them going.  Unfortunately, these scenes were just as I thought them up, not in order…those first six chapters were never really continued.  But I had progressed, in a backwards sort of way.
To my credit, I created a timeline. It took me days to write, because the story was now jumbled up and random.  Stirring scenes, but they went nowhere. My therapy was done and my hair grew back and, though I knew the illness could come back at any time, I started to get back into life.
However, about this same time, I got the idea that, if I should finish the story, I would die.  Dorian Gray’s portrait, sort of. Only in my case, the never-ending now four year old story was my picture in the attic.
My friends started bugging me in earnest to finish the story.  My mother wanted me to finish it.  I wanted to finish it, but I would find any excuse not to work on the story.  It was all in my head, I would proclaim. I can finish it at any time.  But I didn’t.  Instead, I wrote two other novels and two novellas, but those poor characters stuck at the seashore at the very end of the war stayed where they were.
Then Facebook happened.  What a great way to waste hours and stay in touch with hundreds of lovely people I didn’t really know.  And their cats. So easy to sit at the computer, look over those sections of the story I had, glance at my copious notes and think…and look at cats and respond to writers who were selling their books and posting clever cartoons.  Mostly about cats.
So, this story has been in the works for six years or more.  Two weeks ago, I made a vow to myself to finish the story before the New Year.  Even though my house underwent the complete destruction of two rooms, I have tried to write a few thousand words every few days.  I have absolutely no idea how many words I have already or even if they will fit in the timeline. Facebook continues to lure me away and domestic duties keep me from writing every day, but I have put things off long enough. World War II took less time than this book. I have made a grievous mistake writing the way I have, but I do expect the timeline to redeem me.
Procrastination is a deadly sin for a writer. What should have taken me four months has taken far too much time.
But, I did manage to write the novellas and they’re pretty good, even if I do say so myself. Dead Dreams and Dead Meat are unvampire stories.  The hero is a man whose job it is to eradicate vamps.  You’ll like him.  Of course, the third episode of this intended trilogy has yet to be written, but I’ve got copious notes for it and some day, after I finish the war story, I’ll get around to writing it.

Irene Peterson is a women’s fiction author from central New Jersey. She is a freelance editor, anglophile, and Godzilla fan. A graduate of Montclair State College, she never wanted to be a teacher, always dreaming of being a published author instead. So she taught for a couple of years. And she wrote poems, short stories, touching subjects ranging from science fiction to fantasy to romance.

She has vowed that nothing will keep her from writing, not even two bouts with cancer. But sometimes, real life does intrude.

Visit her at her website: http://www.irenepeterson.com

Buy her latest release Dead Meat on Amazon now! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NR06JH8

Special Guest Judith Leger!

Thanks Jenn,
for having me over to your place! I really appreciate it. My fantasy romance,
Enchanted, has recently been contracted with Kensington publishing. I’m so
excited for this opportunity to have this novel with Kensington. Enchanted was
my first full length novel published. The characters and scenery are embedded
into my soul.  Hope everyone who loves
enchantment and magic, elves and Sidhes will take a chance on Enchanted.  You’ll fall in love with Shay. I promise.
He’s totally magical.
She knows how to unravel secrets,
but getting to the bottom of this one might just kill her.
Magic is for fools, television news
reporter Caitlyn believes. And she’s no fool. She’s determined to prove master
illusionist Shay a fake. Somehow though, with Shay the lines between magic and
reality blur. Perhaps it’s his charisma, or being in Wales with him, but now
she’s dreaming of a magical place. One that seems oddly familiar…
Shay hides a terrible secret. He’s
to blame for Caitlyn’s separation from her family and the world she doesn’t
remember. She must go home to the Sidhe, and to recover his honor, he must be
the one to bring her. He’ll willingly lose everything he is to help her break
the curse binding her. But time is of the essence–the old evil has surfaced.
He must make Caitlyn believe in magic, and his love, before she becomes its
prey.
Excerpt:
Caitlyn opened her eyes. Her exhaustion
had evaporated. Still lying with her head on the pillow, she gazed about. Deep
purple midnight surrounded her. Stars twinkled everywhere. Sitting up, she
blinked at their brilliance.
“I’m dreaming,” she whispered. “But
it’s so real.”
She lifted her hand and dusty
sparkles followed the movement, leaving behind a trail like a shooting star.
Such a strange dream. Instead of fear bubbling inside her at the unknown
surroundings, the glittering darkness encircled her.  It embraced her with a soothing ambiance.  She felt secure in the twinkling silence.
Footsteps moved toward her, and
from the purple blackness before her, Shay Evers appeared. Her heart skipped a
beat. Blood pounded in her veins. The slow long-legged stride so unique to him
brought him to her side. He knelt and smiled.
“Hello, Caitlyn.” Amethyst eyes
shone with an inner light.
She smiled, joy overriding
everything else. “I’m dreaming.”
He grinned wider. He lifted a hand
and laid it  over her heart. “Are you? A
sweet dream?”
“Oh, yes,” she sighed, leaning
forward. Her fingers itched to touch him and see if he was real. She reached
out and laid her palm flat on his chest where his shirt gaped open and found
solid warmth. “Oh.”
A low chuckle brought her gaze to
his, and her breath caught at the gentle glow in his eyes. “Do you like?”
Shifting to her knees, her caress
glided toward his jaw. She brushed her thumb across the satiny flesh of his
full bottom lip and sighed once more. “Yes.”
They came together as one and
touched lips; soft, tender, their breaths exchanged for an instant.
“Open your eyes and look to your
heart.” The accent flavoring his voice was stronger than she remembered.
Beautiful and lyrical, she listened to each layer of it. “Look deep, past all
barriers, to the center. Find what you’ve lost and you will be free.”
“Only if you stay with me,” she
whispered against his mouth and slid her fingers into his hair to hold him. His
hands encircled her throat, his thumbs under her chin, tilting her head. She
captured his lips and deepened the kiss, opening her mouth and crossing the
threshold of his with a gentle probe of her tongue. He tasted of cinnamon, her
favorite spice. She moaned as heat climbed from the soles of her feet to
inflame her body.
“I’m dreaming, and I never want this
to end,” she whispered when the kiss ended, arching her back as his lips moved
over her jaw to her neck. Warm breath slid across her skin.
About Judith Leger:
Born and raised in the South, I make Southwest
Louisiana my home. I am a dreamer. 
My writing is a doorway to my imagination I love to share with the
world.  Reading–living in other worlds–has always been a part of my
life, and I decided to let others visit the places in my imagination.  My
muse set free, I write mostly paranormal/fantasy and futuristic stories, but I
also dabbles in contemporary fiction.  I am happily married for the past thirty
four years to a full-blooded Cajun.  We have three sons, a horse, and a
very, very spoiled dachshund.  When I’m not busy writing, I work in higher
education and enjoy reading fantasy, romance, and playing video games with my
sons. Favorite Saturday evening consists of bowls of buttered popcorn and
watching tons of Anime with my sons and granddaughter along with Gracie (my
dachshund).
Contact:

You can find me at