Kinley Baker

Welcome this lovely and talented author-- Kinley Baker. Thanx for stopping by, dear friend.

Wanting What You Can’t Have

In RUINED, Vale and Jessa both suffer from a serious case of wanting what they can’t have. I think all of us are guilty of this at one time or another. Circumstances or conflict prevent us from attaining the one thing we want the most. For Vale and Jessa the forbidden thing they desire is each other, and it’s the tragic history of the Shadow Shifters keeping them apart.

I have no control over what happens in reality. But as an author, I can give Vale and Jessa what they want in the end. As long as there’s a lot of drama, emotion and conflict in between. Sometimes wanting what you can’t have doesn’t really mean you can’t have it.

BLURB

Jessa is one healing away from death. Under the thrall of her gift, the Court's
Senior Healer risks giving her life in exchange for her patient's.

Vale is a rebel ruler. When his brother is killed, he's given the throne and the
decree from the Court to produce an heir or lose his family's hold on the
land--and his deceiving advisors aren't afraid to use murder as a weapon if
their directive to stay away from the Senior Healer goes unheeded.

But Vale burns to possess Jessa. The heat between them leaves a wake of smoke,
and even the powerful forces above want to bind them in a union that lasts
forever. Vale taking another would be a betrayal neither could survive.

Their enemies fear a child born of such a powerful Healer and Warrior, but the
true threat lies in the bond forged in shadows and fused in fire.

EXCERPT

"You." Fury burned hot under Jessa's skin as she glared at Vale. "Who do you
think you are, demanding I come live in this castle? You can't just order your
guards to enter a woman's home and pack up her things."

"Well, I did." Vale came around the desk and propped one hip against it, more of
a threatening than casual movement. "Someone tried to kill me. It makes sense
that I have my Healer close by."

She released a pent-up breath. "Why couldn't you have explained that instead of
mandating?" Silly. Her imagination had run away with her. The king needed his
Healer. But the realization he didn't want her made her angrier.

"Because I didn't want to give you the option of saying no."

She most definitely would have said no.

"If you would have explained your reasoning, I would have complied. Your safety
and health come first, even if I—"

"Even if you what?"

"Loathe you." She bunched her fingers into two fists, seriously tempted to hit
him. For all the nonexistent pain it would inflict upon him.

"Do you?" His tone deadened with calm. "Because I can't stop thinking about
you."

"That's normal." She brushed off the claim. "I saved your life."

He moved in a blur. A true Shadow Shifter. One second he stood near his desk,
the next he had her in his arms, one locked around her waist and one hand
tangled in her hair. Their lips almost brushed.

"I can't stop thinking about you." His murmur played down her spine, leaving a
tingling trail. His scent invaded her. His voice embraced her like bare skin
against satin sheets.

Her heart beat fast, her pulse jumped.

She disliked him, but didn't want him to let her go.

"Have you been thinking about me?" His soft tone feathered over her flesh.

"Only how much I dislike you." Lust pulsed in her belly.

He pulled her head back gently by her hair, so they looked straight into each
other's eyes. Their bodies pressed tightly together. "Liar."

BUY LINK

http://www.amazon.com/Ruined-ebook/dp/B005D9J6L2/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1

BIO

Kinley Baker read her first romance novel at the age of thirteen and immediately fell in love with the hero and the genre. She lives with her husband and her dog, Joker, in the Pacific Northwest. As a firm supporter of all supernatural lifestyles, she writes fantasy romance, paranormal romance, and urban fantasy. You can find Kinley at www.kinleybaker.com.

SOCIAL MEDIA

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http://authorkinleybaker.blogspot.com

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11925534-ruined

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kinley-Baker/196649877015210

Emma Lai

Please welcome the talented Emma Lai to the hotseat. Thank you for coming...

The costs of self-publishing...

(Let me state, I have nothing against self-publishing or authors who choose to self-publish.)

Writing is a solitary process. We pour our souls onto paper and then hoard the precious results and agonize over whether to put it out there for the world to see. For those brave enough to choose to publish, a publisher provides a myriad of benefits.

First, many have wonderful editors who will help take your work to the next level. No one is a perfect writer, and nothing irritates me more than to pick up a book and see poor editing. While even publishing houses let things slip through the crack, editing mistakes seem to be multiplied in self-published work. (Word of advice: if you are going to self-publish, at the very least get some good critique, or another option is to hire a freelance editor; keep in mind, if you go with a publisher, one of the reasons you don’t get all the royalties from a sell is to pay that editor at the publishing house who polished your work until it shone.)

Second, many have wonderful cover artists who will help sale the story. (Again, yet another sliver of royalties gone to cover this cost at a publishing house.) If you’ve never made a cover, let me give you a summary of options. You can search through databases (be careful too because you need to make sure you have permission to use the piece for publication) or commission one or hire someone to do it for you. This is yet another cost, whether time, money or both, to add to your self-publishing plans.

Third, unless you have a myriad of friends with blogs and twitter accounts and facebook accounts and the time to go to every chat room to promote your work, nothing can connect you to the industry better than signing a contract with an established publishing house. Suddenly, you have access to other authors who are more than willing to share their knowledge with you; you have access to marketing promotions you wouldn’t have had previously; and you have access to a market, in the form of regular customers of the house, you can’t otherwise get.

Finally, if you’re thinking about publishing your story in paper format, you have to do some serious research into the options available because not all print on demand gives you access to the markets you might want to enter.

I know there are many, many things not covered in this article, but my main point is there are costs to self-publishing so think carefully before treading down that path. The people I think it benefits most are those with an established reader base. Another reason to self-publish might be because you have a work that doesn’t quite fit at a traditional house either because of length or content.

Let the firestorm begin...

 

 Emma Lai (emmalaiwrites@yahoo.com)http://www.emmalaiwrites.com/

His Ship, Her Fantasy, His Hope, Her Salvation, and Twice is Not Enough (from The Wild Rose Press)

Slave to Innocence and Tempting Terms (from Sybarite Press)

Maggie Bishop

I am so happy to have Maggie Bishop sit in the hot seat today. She is a lovely and talented author. Let's see what Maggie has to say today...

Why do you write mysteries?

I started with romance and turned to murder, partly so I could keep my main characters. Once, when I left for a vacation, I asked a woman for a book to read. She gave me a short, contemporary romance.  That year, I read 400 of them!  My husband had to tap me on the shoulder to get my attention. The “ahaa” moment hit and I said “I can do this – I can write the kinds of book I like to read.”  My first step was to join Romance Writers of America, attend their conference and take craft of writing workshops.  After two Appalachian Adventure romances, a body showed up and my characters had to catch the bad guy.

  Is there a certain theme/trademark you use in your books?

 In my second novel, Emeralds in the Snow, I mentioned real people and gained permission to use their names and photographs. Joe White, the man who grooms the ski slopes at Sugar Mountain (setting for Emeralds) in Banner Elk, NC, is also a farrier. He became a suspect in Murder at Blue Falls since it is set on a dude ranch and the horses needed shoeing. 

What gets your inspirational juices flowing?

After every book I finish, I tell my husband “never again, I’m done with writing books.”  Before long, a character will start bugging me – nothing overt, but scenes will flash in my head.  I ignore them and they ferment.  Once they bubble over, I have to write.  For me, writing is difficult and requires complete focus on the action evolving. It is intense and consuming once I give in and begin writing.

 Do you have any book signings or author appearances coming soon?

The Boone, NC, area has lots of tourists who come from off the mountain to escape the heat. High Country Writers (founded in 1995) rents space at craft fairs so I’ll be in Banner Elk on July23 & 24, Valle Crucis on July 30 & 31, and at Fred’s at the top of Beech Mountain on August 6^th.  Of course, I’ll be at Sugar Mountain Oktoberfest October 8 & 9.  The famous John C. Campbell Folk School has invited me to give a week of workshops on mystery writing October 30 to November 5^th.

What do you do in your downtime to relax? Sudoku! My cousin introduced me to it last summer and I escape to a number puzzle often.  In good weather, we hit the hiking trails nearby along the Blue Ridge Parkway and on Grandfather Mountain.

 If you could meet one person from the past or present who would it be? Katherine Hepburn -- strong minded, entertaining actress, independent, self-supporting, trend-setter.

Any promotional secrets?  Nail down that “elevator speech” and use it often.

Where is your fave place to visit?  Cruise ships, believe it or not. I don’t care where we go; many times, we don’t get off the ship while in port. No cooking, cleaning, emails, plus the food and entertainment are merely steps away. It’s the only time I can get my husband to slow down and relax.

Are you a fairy tale or a realist sorta person? Realistic with wishes that sometimes come true. I knew early on that my destiny depended on my choices and dedicated work.

Any suggestions for unpublished authors?  Don’t talk about the book you are going to write. Keep that spark of inspiration to yourself, nurture it, write it down. Don’t show it to anyone before the third draft otherwise you may talk it away into the either.

If you had another career, what was it?

I was a manufacturing executive with more than eight hundred employees and enjoyed using my natural organizational skills. Believe me, it was a major change to the solitary writing life.  Wish I were as efficient as I once was.

 If you didn’t write, what would you do instead?

Learn to enjoy cooking.  I cook, but it’s all basic, mostly healthy, but not inspiring.  Also garden, but first I’d have to figure out how to keep the deer away from the flowers and veggies.

 If you could have one wish, what would it be? I knew the formula for selling millions of books.

 In one word only, describe yourself.  “Friendly.”  Before I met my husband, it was “independent.”

Are you an animal person? Yes, isn’t everyone?  If so, which animal?  Cats, even published a book dictated by Hunter (Meow Means Me! Now!).

What is your most embarrassing moment? It’s a classic, asking a woman at a party if she was pregnant and she wasn’t.

 Please tell us about your releases and where we can purchase them. Please give us your urls and your publisher’s url.

The Start: In MURDER AT BLUE FALLS, when her horse finds a body, CSI wannabe Jemma starts to investigate, Detective Tucker comes in and it twists and turns from there. book http://dld.bz/TvMx  kindle http://dld.bz/murderatbluefallsspecial

And Then: Since pay is low in the mountains, Jemma has more than one job and is also a carpenter.  In  PERFECT FOR FRAMING, trouble’s a-brewing in the Property Owners Association where greed and a lust for power lead to murder in a clash of personal versus public needs. book  http://dld.bz/TvJC  Kindle http://dld.bz/TvKE

Now: The photography group meets at Blue Falls Guest Ranch and soon there is ONE SHOT TOO MANY (September 2011 mystery) which features Detective Tucker with yesterday’s regret haunts, leading to today’s deadly fix. book  http://dld.bz/oneshottoomany

If you like whodunit mysteries full of clues and suspense in a vacation paradise, you can find these paperbacks and e-books on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and other book and e-book retailers. 
In the Appalachian Adventure Romance series, Award winning APPALACHIAN PARADISE takes place on a five-day backpacking trip in the spring amongst the bears, boars and girl scouts. With this book, you can take the hike without physically taking the hike.  EMERALDS IN THE SNOW involves downhill skiing at Sugar Mountain, an emerald mine, and a cold case mystery.

The fun book, Meow Means Me! Now! is a rhyming feline allegory with poetry and photos. This gift book is a departure from novels but sprang from a love of cats . Think Dr. Suess meets Marley & Me.

My blog is Dames of Dialogue http://damesofdialogue.wordpress.com

Website http://maggiebishop1.tripod.com

Perfect for Framing

by Maggie Bishop

PROLOGUE

Petula rose from her lover’s bed, paraded naked to the vanity mirror, and finger combed her hair so it fell over one eye.

            “Your bruises are almost gone,” the man said.

            She smiled at him then studied herself in the mirror. “The lipo doctor did a thorough job. He took six pounds and three inches off my mid-section. I wish these numb spots would go away.”

            “Give it time, Pet. Your face is almost healed.” He propped himself up with her pillow and reached for his cigarettes.

            “I hope I’ll look better than this soon,” Pet said, still studying herself in the mirror. “I thought you gave up those things.”

            “After this one. I’m down to a couple a day. Besides, you said the same thing after your face lift – no more plastic surgery.”

            “A lady has a right to change her mind,” she called as she stepped into the shower.

            By the time she was dressed and had put on makeup, he had his jeans back on. “I’m still mad you let someone buy that lot I wanted to build on,” he said as she emerged from the dressing area in her guest house. He pulled on a crumpled polo shirt.

            “Don’t you worry. I’m in the perfect position to make their lives miserable. Didn’t I make it too tough for the last owners to build? I wasn’t President of the POA a couple of years ago when you wanted to put your modular on that lot. Now I have the other homeowners in my grip. If you can’t build there, no one can.”

            He dropped the butt into the beer can and hugged her, resting his chin on her head. He said, “Revenge can be so sweet. Maybe you can bankrupt the POA with a lawsuit.” He let her go and sat down to tie his sneakers. then asked, “What are you doing with that situation with your husband? Any progress?”

            “Don’t you worry about that either. I’ll end up with the house and a big alimony settlement. Then it’ll be just the two of us.”

Website maggiebishop1.tripod.com

Workshops Write Now! with Maggie

Blog Dames of Dialogue

Books on Kindle $2.99 http://dld.bz/SJyD

Books on Nook $2.99 http://dld.bz/nookmurderatbluefalls

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Author of Appalachian Adventure series, mystery and romance

One of "100 Incredible ECU Women"

"Go beyond yourself -- write."  Pearle Louise Munn Bishop

Tuesday in India

I was back at the airport again. After an hour ride in the backseat of the cab through a maze of roads and alleys,beeping horns and fast driving,  I was ready to plant my feet back on still land. Accosted by the heat as I stepped out, it took me a minute to catch my breath. People piled into a single line at the doors of the building. When I use the word 'piled' that is only a tip of the chaos. Still new to the culture of this land, I couldn't understand why people pushed, nudged, elbowed, and hit their way through. I'm not kidding. Here in America, there would be fights and charges pressed for this behavior. No one seemed distubed or bothered by the behavior, or lack of manners...except for me. 

Finally inside the busy terminal, things were no different. In the States, we take this time in between arrival and boarding as "relaxation" time. A moment to catch our breath, grab a bite to eat and read that magazine we haven't had an opportunity to skim yet. The atmosphere is calm, except for the corridors buzzing with people walking to and fro. Not in India...the environment is still tense and moody. I will learn later, understandably, why these people are this way, but for now, I had no clue. It put me on edge. Everyone staring at me, whispering...sitting on the edge of their seat...talking in quick, exasperated tones. By the time our flight was called, I was already agitated. Everyone seemed ready to dodge an attack...

Here comes the free for all. I wondered why my friend said to, "Stay close." I mean, after all, we were just going to board our plane...

Everyone swarmed the entrance door. Although there was plenty of space in the lobby for people to spread out, for some reason everyone crowded together. I immediately lost sight of my 'personal space.' The circle grew closer, and tighter. I could smell the woman's perfume in front of me. The man's breath next to me. The fumes flowing in through the door from the engines of the planes. And then when the band was about to snap...the line moved. I was beginning to learn that if I didn't nudge back, I would be pushed to the back of the line without a thought from anyone. 

The event wasn't even close to being over. We packed into a bus. Pushed, prodded, sardine in a tin can...get the idea? Off the bus. Pushed, prodded, sardine in a smaller tin can. Ten minutes standing in the sun...we load the airplane. Pushed, prodded, sardine in a cooler tin can. Thank heaven above...Goa...we were on our way.

Cooling off, I finally felt my blood pressure dropping and I enjoyed the scenery around me. What else would I be doing but staring at the people around me? They were wonderful...absolutely wonderful. I loved the flight attendents dressed in their uniforms. I really didn't want to stare, but I couldn't help myself. They were stunning. Everything about these ladies was identical to each other. From the black eyeliner rimming their dark eyes, skin tone, pale lips, dress, to the style of hair...which I can't be sure, but I can almost guarantee were wigs with attached hat. Am I the only one who thinks this is interesting? 

In all of this chaos, I saw something that touched me. The love these people have for their family, especially the children. Mostly by the amount of tenderness and affection these fathers give to their children. I'm not saying that here in America this doesn't happen, I'm only saying that a father in this culture has a somewhat different role. When a child cries, an Indian father is there first to cuddle. When a child needs to go to the bathroom, he is there immediately taking him/her. And playing...these fathers play with sincere delight on their features. 

I felt a sense of warmth spread through me. I liked sitting here, in this atmosphere. I enjoyed the differences. I liked hearing the chatter--though I had no clue what they were saying. And I had yet to get a friendly smile or gesture from anyone except for the flight attendants who seemed to find me as interesting as I found them. Until...

I happened to be struck with the feeling...you know the one, where you are being stared at? I looked around and then I saw him. A young boy, I'm guessing about 13 years old, was catching a peek at me. He'd see me look and then he'd back away quickly. And then, he lifted himself up from his seat and boldly made eye contact with me. A large smile spread over his face...a smile of welcome. A nice, warm smile that was innocent and sweet. The first smile I had gotten with true sincereity since I'd arrived. I'd never see him again...but thank you. In the heart of a child to make a stranger feel welcome.

I closed my eyes in peace. 

Tuesday in India

Coming off the plane into India had been a rush of pure chaos. We shuffled into buses that would transport us to the building. People crowded, elbow to elbow, pushing and shoving. My luggage was lost. I was told to stand in the corner, along with a handful of others, who, interestingly, were all foreigners like me who had also "lost" their luggage. But here in this strange land, you don't ask questions. You won't be answered anyway. You just patiently wait. Here in America, a smile works wonders. In India, don't bother.

With luggage in hand, exhaustion creeping through my veins like heavy weights, I couldn't even allow myself to be nervous when I was stopped by security. He held a mean gun and a meaner expression. In my mind I asked myself, "What the hell now?" My mind lazily wrapped around what he wanted from me. But all he asked was, "Where are you from?" I answered, "America."

He waved me past. The poor fellow behind me wasn't so lucky as he was asked to unzip his bag.

As I stepped through the double doors, it is nothing but lights, camera and chaos. This would be the closest I would ever get to walking the red carpet at a film festival. Oh...but it wasn't for me. I should add that. Hundreds of people lined the security gates, which kept them a hundred feet from the building exit. It was like the last one-hundred feet I would take before I entered a whole new world. There was no turning back. This was it.

I took a deep breath and dragged my heavy luggage to the opening in the gate. Placards were thrust in my face. They were yelling at me. Taking my picture. I ignored them. I step outside the gate. I am immediately approached but can't understand what I am being asked. And then my friend saves me, only to yell at me for not waiting inside the safety of the gate. I hadn't realized how dangerous it was. I was starting to get an idea...I wasn't in peaceful Ohio anymore.

Lack of sleep was catching up to me. My feet ached. My head throbbed from the strong odors and pollution. And by the time I slid into the backseat of the cab, I was in much need of rest.

But who was I to complain?

I reminded myself, this country did not invite me here. I came on my own free will. I was a guest. And I was glad to be here. I wanted this experience. I wanted to face challenge and accomplish something. I wanted to stretch the boundaries. I wanted....well, I wasn't sure what I wanted. I just knew that back home I was close to a severe meltdown. Divorce can do that to a person. I needed to find myself.

And in the next days that followed I would find so much more than I had ever expected...