My Life Resumes!

How cool is this! Coinciding very nicely with my latest mystery novel offering, Persephone Cole and the Halloween Curse, is a Halloween contest at the Books We Love Publishing House, complete with a basket of goodies as a prize. Visit  http://bookswelove.net/ for the details!
Persephone Cole and the Halloween Curse is the first of a mystery series taking place over the holidays and stars a 1942 female gumshoe nearly six feet tall and, nicely put, a full-figured gal. If you've ever wondered how Sam Spade, Lew Archer, or Phillip Marlow would act as a woman, this might answer the call.
Persephone Cole and the Halloween Curse starts off the Persephone Cole Holiday Mystery Series, but the second novel, Persephone Cole and the Christmas Killings Conundrum, was actually written first. After a few emails back and forth between the publisher, Books We Love, and me, it was decided we needed to start the series off in the fall. So I committed myself to writing a novel - albeit a short one - in three months. I'm the one who should have been committed.
I don't have to tell anyone who has written more than a postcard, you don't dash off a novel, even one at 60K. I mean, you can, of course, but who would want to read it? So if I was going to deliver anything with a modicum of readability, I had to cram eight months' to a year's worth of work into three months.
Goodbye summer-time fun, goodbye  playing with my cats, goodbye life as I knew it. Did I mention goodbye having fun with my husband, who as a teacher, had the summer off?  This meant he couldn't disturb me until the afternoon. Get your own breakfast, answer the phone, don't bother me. I would come up for air sometime around two, when he would get a kiss. I would get back to it after dinner. The summer of 2012 will be remembered by me as me and the computer, attached at the hip. Fortunately, husband Norman is a musician and understands the creative mind. Or the crazy mind. Take your pick.
One of the downsides - for me - of not having a lot of time is I lost perspective on my work. I didn't have the luxury of setting it aside and coming back to it with a fresh eye. Every work needs to be treated like bread dough. Set it in the corner for a time and allow it to rise. Then you go back in and punch it around until it conforms to what you want. That's writing. Messy dough.
So not having the time to do that, I was more dependent on others, fellow writers who took pity on me, read the story, and made suggestions. Thanks to people like Roseanne Dowell and Baird Nuckolls, who are professional editors, as well as authors, I got through it. It was harrowing, but I got through it.
Don't get me wrong, I love to write. I love my characters. I love my mysteries. But I'm at the age now - 49 plus, plus, plus, and holding on for dear life. What that means is I don't want to go back to treating writing as a miserable job, like I did in my twenties and thirties. I want to have a good time. I want to laugh. I want to play with my cats, my friends, and my husband.
But in the end, it was worth it. The series is off to what I hope is a great start.
For the record, I love Persephone Cole. Percy's everything I would like to be. A trail-blazing 40s gumshoe, with a wicked sense of humor, and a take no prisoners attitude. She tells it like it is and lets the chips fall where they may. And she loves fedora hats and butter. My kinda gal.

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Check out Persephone Cole and the Halloween Curse.
And visit Books We Love for some great reads!

A Visit with Roseanne Dowell, Author of Ring Around the Rosy

I've had the good fortunate to be part of a group of writers that include the likes of Roseanne Dowell. In my opinion, Roseanne is a talented and prolific writer, who creates easy to read page-turners of the romantic/mystery type, where you not only meet some lovely, charming people, but get to wonder who did the dastardly deed or deeds. It's a win-win and so enters Ring Around the Rosy.
I just finished this book and if you're interested in my thoughts on Amazon, zip on over here. Then come on back and get to know a little bit more about this author via her own words in a recent interview:

First off, I want to thank you for having me, Heather.

1.  Always a pleasure! Let's get to it, Roseanne, What is your favorite book?

Oh my, that’s a hard one. I have so many. Just about anything written by Nora Roberts, especially Blue Smoke and Northern Lights. I also loved Devil’s Corner by Lisa Scottoline.

2.      Who is your favorite writer?

Think I just gave that away above. LOL

3.      How old were you when you were first published?

Wow, what an interesting question. Do I dare answer?  57.

4.      What is your favorite word?

Favorite word. Hmmm not sure I have one.

5.      When and how do you write? (typewriter, Mac, in a café, for four hours each morning, etc?)

Computer and just about any time. For a long time it was the middle of the night, but that’s not happened for a long time. I find if the characters are speaking, I’d better listen and get it down on paper (computer) right away. I’ve lost those words a few times by putting it off.

6.      What is your greatest fear when you first turn in a manuscript?

Rejection. I think that’s probably every writer’s fear. Is it good enough? Will the publisher like it?

      7.      In what era do you wish you’d been born?

That’s fairly easy. The Victorian. And you’ll see that often in my books. So many of my heroines love that era too.

     8.      Which talent would you most like to have?

Another easy one. I wish I had a good singing voice. I was in the choir and I sang with the tenors. I’d love to be a soprano.

     9.  What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Raising my six children.

     10.  Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

Not sure I have one.

     11.  How would you like to die?

In my sleep, quietly and without pain.

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Excerpt from Ring Around the Rosy:

Susan propped the News Gazette on the counter and focused on the headline. ‘Georgie Porgie, Pudding and Die’ by Susan Weston, it blared at her. Her headline. Her story. She’d done it. Finally got her headline. She drummed her hands on the counter and did a little dance step. She swore if her grin got any wider her face would crack. .”Susan Weston, journalist!” she shouted. God, she wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

The phone rang, startling her. “Who the heck is calling at this hour? “ She grabbed the phone. “Hello.” Bella rubbed against her legs, waiting to be fed. “Hello?” Susan grabbed the box of kitty food, filled the bowl, and set it on the floor.

“Hello,” she repeated, ready to hang up if no one answered this time.

The evil, raspy voice on the other end sent goose-bumps up her spine. “Who is this?” she whispered.

The voice mumbled something she could barely hear.

“Strawberries? What are you talking about?”

“Just for you,” the garbled voice continued.

“I can’t hear you. Who is this?” What kind of sick joke is this?

She caught the words, “loved your headline,” more garbled words, and “Watch for Jack be nimble.” Then the phone line went dead.

Susan grabbed the counter to steady herself. Her hand trembled, and she stared at the phone. She dropped the receiver back into its cradle as if it was on fire. But she couldn’t stop the trembling. Her stomach churned. Nausea filled her throat. What was wrong with her? Just someone playing a sick joke. This wasn’t her first crank call, why react like this? Maybe because none of the others had sounded like this.

He said he liked her story. That shouldn’t bother her. Something about that voice, so harsh, so evil. It gnawed at her. The hair prickled on the back of her neck. Something about it seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

After pouring a cup of coffee, she read the story under the headline aloud, trying to keep her mind off the phone call. “Police are investigating the death of thirty-one year old George Lucas, whose body was found last night in Lagoon Park near his west side home.” The sound of her shaky voice surprised her.

What was the matter with her?  “Get a grip, girl.”

Must be the effect of seeing the lifeless body. The way George Lucas’s eyes stared into space. What was he thinking when he looked into his killer’s eyes? The distant street lamp didn’t help. It cast an eerie shadow on the victim. His face frozen in terror, lips parted in a silent scream, and his head tilted to one side as if it was too heavy for his neck. The way one hand clutched at his throat and the other gripped the note, fingers frozen around it, sent icy chills through her, even now. She shuddered.

Thank God there wasn’t any blood, since the image would forever be embedded in her mind. Susan rubbed her arms to warm them.

Picking up the paper, she continued to read. “The coroner will determine the cause of death, but early reports indicate that Mr. Lucas was strangled. Lipstick was smeared across the victim’s mouth, and he clasped the nursery rhyme, ‘Georgie Porgie,’ in his hand. The teen who discovered the body reported seeing a man carrying a bag and wearing a gray shirt running from the park moments before. Police have no suspects at this time.”

Bella brushed against her legs, jumped on the counter, and snuggled against her.

Susan’s heart pounded. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. So much for the thrill of seeing her name on the front page. The image of the body filled her mind. Her hands trembled while she held the paper and reread the headline with her name below it. It was exactly as she had written it — not one word changed, short and to the point.

George Lucas lived in her neighborhood. She’d seen him a few times in Meliti’s Market talking to old Mrs. Meliti. Although they never spoke, they had nodded and smiled hello. Nice-looking guy, about her age. What a shock seeing him dead. Another shiver shook her body. Seeing a dead body was bad enough, but knowing the victim threw her for a loop. Made it personal.

Arriving only a few minutes before the police showed up and ordered her to leave, not that they had to tell her twice, she had viewed the crime scene and then skedaddled lickety-split. She knew enough about crime scenes to maintain a distance, knew if she got too close, she’d compromise the scene, maybe even leave trace evidence of herself behind. She didn’t need that. But she’d been close enough to read that paper in his hand, a nursery rhyme. She’d seen every gory detail.

The nursery rhyme letters, cut out from newspapers and magazines, and bowl of chocolate pudding and the strawberry pie that had been dumped on the victim’s head would stay in her memory for a long time. Of course, the police requested that information not be printed.

Requested, hell. Demanded was more like it, but Susan understood. Those were facts only the killer knew, and it prevented crank confessions. Couldn’t give the public too much information. After waiting behind the crime scene tape long enough to hear the possible cause of death, she hurried home to write her story before the deadline.

Susan walked around the kitchen. To sweeten the deal, her colleagues hadn’t shown up until well after they’d taped off the crime scene, hadn’t seen what she’d seen. So Ernie printed her story. Her first big byline!   Even that cocky reporter, Dan Hill, hadn’t beat her out this time.

Staring at the large headline, she sipped her coffee. The words from the phone call rambled around in her mind.

“Strawberries. The voice on the phone said something about strawberries. Strawberry Pie dumped over the victim’s head.” Her voice cracked at the memory.

Only the killer knew about the pie. Her body shook. Had she been talking to the killer? What else had the caller said? Jack be nimble. Another nursery rhyme.

Grabbing the counter to steady herself, she repeated part of the nursery rhyme “Jack be nimble…”

Her mind raced. She pushed away from the counter and paced the kitchen, trying to remember the rest of the rhyme.

“Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jumped over the candlestick. That’s it!”

What the heck did it mean? Was he going to kill again? Was there a serial killer out there?

She grabbed the phone and dialed the police department. Maybe it was nothing, but she needed to report it. Something didn’t sit right.

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 Ring Around the Rosy buy page

The Perfect Margarita

Recently, I decided not to focus on anything about writing, being an author, or having a book published. What with Death Runs in the Family, 3rd book in the Alvarez Family Murder Mystery Series and Corliss, my suspense short story out within weeks of each other, and banging away on the keyboard trying to finish the Persephone Cole Series, which debuts in September, I needed a break.
So we zipped off to Las Vegas for a few days for a little R&R. We decided to drive, the pissed-off skies being what they are, and after several hours arrived at Barstow, California, mentioned in the famous song, (Get Your Kicks On) Route 66. We usually stop there when we drive to Vegas, get a motel room for the night, and have dinner at the Idle Spurs Restaurant. It's a tradition. A silly one, but there you are.
However, as this was the first time we arrived in Barstow on a Monday, we couldn't go to the Idle Spurs. Closed, dontchaknow. The best laid plans.
We wound up at the Los Domingos, where we stumbled upon good Mexican food and even better cocktails. Life being what it is, you never know when you are going to have a serendipitous moment like that. So instead of books, let's talk booze. Serendipitously, of course.

And enter Max, the Mixologist.
We walked into the Los Domingos Restaurant and there was Max standing behind a pretty interesting bar. Norman was in the mood for a Margarita, but not the super sweet kind made with lots of Rose's lemon-lime mix. That is more or less a north of the border tradition. He wanted one just like we could get in Mexico, Cuernavaca, specifically. Years ago the best Margarita we've ever had - and we've been searching endlessly you might say - was obtained and drunk there, several times over.
We told Max our experience and he promised us the 'perfect' Margarita, too. Man oh man, did he deliver. It was so smooth and delicious; I couldn't help but ask what his secret was. He told me it's equal amounts of lime, lemon and orange. I couldn't believe it, but Max swears it's true. Now that we're home, I'll be testing his recipe many times over!
People from Barstow seemed to flock into Los Domingos for his drinks. That evening we watched a lot of them drop by. Then Max showed me his own creation, the Huckleberry Margarita, which he gave me a sample of. Stand back, world! This is marvelous!! Slushy, gorgeous to look at, and even better to drink. The man is a genius. Yes, Max the Mixologist is a genius. Whenever you come across perfection, it must be applauded.
So take a bow, Max, to generous applause!!
When we head back to Barstow, we know exactly where to go for the perfect drink. Meanwhile, bottoms up!

Welcom Penny Estelle, Author of Billy Cooper's Awesome Nightmare

Just the title of this book, Billy Cooper's Awesome Nightmare, and the wonderful cover, sends me into laughter every time I see it.

Penny Estelle is a lovely lady, especially in her cowboy hat, and from what I've read so far of the story, it sounds like something I would enjoy, even though I am decades too old. That's what comes of being a kid at heart. Before you get a glimpse of it, yourself, here is an interview we did. A chance to get to know Penny a little better, of course.


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1. What is your favorite book?
I am always looking for news about upcoming Janet Evanovich books. These are the numbered Stephanie Plum series books. I am waiting for number 20 (I think). Her books are laugh out loud funny!

2. Who is your favorite writer?
I have several but of course my #1 is Ms Evanovich. She actually answered three questions for me to put on my blog! OMG – I was floored when she said she would do that. That helps keeping her in the lead! But I also love Nora Roberts, Sandra Brown, Fern Michaels, and Linda Leal Miller

3. How old were you when you were first published?
It was one year ago – I was at the very young age of fifty-eight. (Heather's Note: You don't look it darling. You could say 38, and we'd buy it.)

4. What writing style do you most abhor?
This is a toughie….I’m not crazy about old style English dialogue and I don’t like it when an author goes on and on and on describing different scenes, etc.

5. What is your favorite writing cliché?
Apparently every cliché ever invented because I get dinged with using clichés from my critique group all the time and I don’t even realize it.

6. What is your favorite word?
Awesome! I can use it sarcastically (which I do all the time) or congratulating somebody, talking about an event, situation, personality, etc. etc! I really like the word(s) SOB, too. (I use that when I am frustrated, which is a lot)

7. When and how do you write? (typewriter, Mac, in a café, for four hours each morning, etc?)
With a pad of paper, lying on the couch! I am a horizontal writer! I wish I could tell you I write this many hours everyday, and I wish I did. No matter how many pep talks I give myself about forgetting all else and just write – it just doesn’t happen!

8. What is your greatest fear when you first turn in a manuscript?
That there will be tons of typos that I missed.

9. In what era do you wish you’d been born?
I would have loved to have been a pioneer woman, but there would need to be air conditioning, and I don’t like to cook anyway, so cooking over the hearth would probably suck (this is another of my favorite words) and bathing once a week would be out. Now that I think about it – I’m good in the 21 century!

10. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
With regards to writing? Was and well. I was told once I used the word “I” way too many times – so now I write in third person!

11. Which talent would you most like to have?
I wish I could play the guitar – and if I could sing well, to go along with my great guitar playing, well that would be awesome!

12. What do you consider your greatest achievement?
I’m going to have to go with…. my husband and I building our entire retirement house by ourselves. Except for pouring the cement foundation we did all the rest! (well, let’s not get silly. My husband did most of it, but I was there helping, damnit!)

13. Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Stephanie Plum

14. How would you like to die?
In my sleep!

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Billy Cooper’s Awesome Nightmare
Blurb:
Billy Cooper’s seventh grade class has been given a last minute, weekend assignment. An oral book report is due Monday on some stupid historical figure, he draws from a box.
Billy’s weekend is way too full to worry about some legend – that is, until he meets him face to face!

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Excerpt:
Except for William Tell being one of the biggest men he had ever seen, he had to wonder what this guy did to get put on a book report list! “So, Du….I mean, Uncle William, what do you do around here, you know to bring home the bacon?”
“Here in Uri, we would kill a bore to get bacon,” William replied.
“Ooookay,” Billy said, but you are a legend. Why?” Billy figured he might as well take the bull by the horns!
“William, I am no legend. I am but a simple hunter.”
Billy had to wonder why old lady Wickware would put some hunter that didn’t do squat, in the drawing. There had to be more! “So, who’s this Gessler guy? Why is Auntie freaking out about him?”
His uncle did a quick double take and asked, “William, your speech seems so different. Do they all talk like this in Unterwalden?
“Unter-who?” Billy asked.
“Unterwalden. Where you live.” His uncle started to wonder if his nephew was more than just unbalanced.
“Oh yea, Unter….whatever. My home place,” Billy stammered. “Yea, we all talk like this. We are a laid back kind of group.”
William Tell just shook his head. “Gessler is the Governor of Altdorf. As you must know, Austria is trying to take our lands from us. Some are already paying heavy and unjust taxes. These Austrians are a cruel people, William, and they want everyone to live in fear. Until the Rutli Oath came to be we did not know what to do.”
“What’s the Rutli Oath? Billy asked.
They were almost to Altdorf. William stopped and looked deep into Billy’s eyes. “Countrymen from Uri, Unterwalden, and Schwytz are ready to take back what is ours and the Rutli Oath is our pledge to do so.
Billy nodded and turned to continue to the town when his uncle stopped him. His tone was deadly. “Speak of this to no one, William. It would not bode well for you.”
Even in a dream, Billy wouldn’t cross a man like William Tell. “No problem, Dude. Your secret is safe with me.”

MuseItUp Publishing - http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=501&category_id=10&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1&vmcchk=1&Itemid=1

Amazon –
http://www.amazon.com/Coopers-Awesome-Nightmare-Wickware-ebook/dp/B0088HTJ9U

Heather – thanks so much for letting me visit with you on your blog. I can be reached @
www.pennystales.com
www.pennyestelle.blogspot.com
pennyestelle@yahoo.com
@pennystales – twitter

I love it when folks stop by and say “Hi”
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And thanks for dropping by, Penny! You're a lot of fun!!

Life Whizzes By When You Write, Write, Write!!

Lucky me and hello out there! I haven't written my blog for a month but I have been writing. I am committed to doing a new series, Persephone Cole, a sassy World War II sleuth to see you through each of the holidays. There's a mystery to solve, of course, and a few laughs along the way. Below is a little bit about the first two novels starring the 5'11", large, and no nonsense protagonist, Persephone Cole. I just love Percy. When I grow up, I want to be just like her, including wearing a fedora!
Persephone Cole and the Halloween Curse comes out in September:

Blurb - In 1942, no one heard of a female PI, not even in New York City. But meet Persephone Cole, newly inaugurated private investigator, with a penchant for Marlene Dietrich suits and fedora hats. Halloween finds her backstage during the previews of the latest Broadway production of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, where there’s double, double, toil and trouble and enough dead bodies to stuff in a caldron. With suspects aplenty, this working mother is not sure which is worse, someone trying to kill her or a masked bandit snitching her son’s jack-o-lantern.

Persephone Cole and the Christmas Killings Conundrum debuts in November:

Blurb - No one heard of a female private investigator in 1942. No one, but Persephone Cole, that is. Percy might just be Manhattan's first female PI. A week before Christmas, she’s hired to find out who killed a Santa Land elf and left him in the storefront window of a chic 5th Avenue jewelry store. Shortly after, the body of the Christmas Angel is discovered stuffed in Mrs. Santa's workshop. Will Santa Claus be next? This working mother is not sure which is worse, someone out to ruin Christmas or having to eat Spam every day, a result of the World War II’s meat rationing.

The Persephone Cole series will be published by BooksWeLove starting in September. Zip on over and see if there's anything that tickles your fancy! They've got some great books and great deals over there!
Now I really, really, need to get back to Persephone!

Death Runs in the Family - Reviews Are Coming In!

My latest novel in the Alvarez Family Murder Mystery series, Death runs in the Family. Death Runs is my favorite so far, but this is probably because the latest is usually an author’s favorite! Lee, Lila, Richard and Tío – the whole Alvarez Family - are up to their eyeballs again in dead bodies here in the gorgeous Bay Area and beyond! Peril is everywhere. Even Tugger is catnapped! Take a gander at my book trailer if you don’t believe me: http://youtu.be/TJiessiOxAc
The wonderful author Pat Dale has read Death Runs in the Family and offers a totally unsolicited review! isn't that great when other writers take the time to write down their opinion of our work? I am so jazzed. Here it is:
"The third book in the Lee Alvarez Mystery series has recently been released by Muse It Up Publishing and I’ve just finished reading a delightful mystery romp. Author Heather Haven takes us through a series of infinitely detailed settings as this sometimes vulnerable but infinitely talented sleuth doggedly chases down a wisp of a girl/woman who had pulled one over on her. The plot thickens and the stakes grow higher; and deadlier. From a seemingly impish prank, the reader is drawn into high drama with deadly consequences, leading to a long distance chase that nets one of the most deceptive but ruthless villains I’ve read in a long while. Five star ratings are bandied about carelessly these days and that’s a shame. When you find an author who really knows how to write, and a story that keeps your eyes glued to the page, page after page, you know you’ve read five star material. Heather Haven is a gifted author and I can hardly wait to see what her protagonist, Lee Alvarez, gets into next. Kudos and a big, bold, ***** rating for DEATH RUNS IN THE FAMILY."

Dale Thompson

Writing as Pat Dale Check out his website. He is one talented author.

Back to Death Runs in the Family

Blurb:
Lee Alvarez’ ex-husband, Nick -- a man she divorced with joy in her heart and a gun in her hand – sprints back in her life only to disappear again. She’d love to leave it at that, but could he be responsible for the recent death of her cousin, who keeled over at the finish line of a half-marathon in front of hundreds of spectators? As PI for the family run business, Discretionary Inquiries, Lee follows the clues to Vegas, where she joins forces with Shoshone PI, Flint Tall Trees. Together they uncover a multi-million dollar betting syndicate, a tacky lounge lizard act, and a list of past but very dead runners, plus future ones to off. At the top of the ‘future’ list is the love of her life, Gurn Hanson. Hoping to force the culprits out in the open, Gurn and Lee’s brother, Richard, vow to run San Francisco’s famous Palace to Palace footrace in only a few days. Can Lee keep the two men she loves from hitting the finish line as dead as her cousin? With more at stake than she ever dreamed possible, Lee is in a battle against time to stop the Alvarez Family’s 12K race with death.

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Excerpt:
Chapter Seven
I Don’t Know Who’s the Bigger Idiot

Without much conversation, we jostled Nick out of the room and down the stairs. As a precaution, we used the back exit, Flint flinging boxes of DVDs every which way so fast, the clerk only managed one “hey” before we were out the door. The exit led to a narrow back alley filled with garbage, trash, and more small scurrying animals that should be calling the SPCA to complain about the conditions under which they’re forced to live.
While Flint went to bring the car to the side of the alley, I waited in the shadows next to Nick and pulled out the Glock. The irony of the situation hit me like a double charge on a credit card bill for shoes not only too tight to wear but last year’s style.
On the left, a disgusting dumpster; on the right, an even more disgusting ex-husband. And me stuck in the middle as usual—a reluctant PI if ever there was one.
Rather than inhaling the stench of fly-ridden garbage, I’d really rather be sniffing out dastardly doings of computer sabotage or thievery, in particular, long after said dastardly deeds have gone down. It’s my idea of a good job, especially when I get to zip off whenever I want and have a great lunch.
The part I like best—besides the food—is sitting at a highly polished, recently vacated mahogany desk in an air-conditioned office, sifting through the rubble of high-tech deceit and betrayal. I like gathering enough evidence to point a manicured fingernail at the culprit and shout j'accuse! Backlit by enough briefs, memos, emails, and other telltale papers, the culprit is mine. That is a real high.
This was a real low. But I had to think about Stephen. My cousin was dead, and Nick knew something about it. Hell, maybe he even had something to do with it. And, of course, there were the cats. If Nick was in any way responsible, I might do him in myself and save whatever goons there may be the trouble.
All these things were flitting through my mind when Nick—the stupid idiot—made a lunge for my gun, muttering he could take better care of himself than I could. Sometimes an ex-marine, like an ex-husband, needs to get over himself.
One of the first lessons you learn as a PI is to not to carry a gun if you’re going to let anybody take it away from you. All the years I’ve been carrying, ten to be exact, people have taken all sorts of things from me—including my virtue—but never my gun.
So when Nick came at me, my knee went up fast, strong, and accurate. Ex dropped to the ground in a fetal position. God only knows what else was lying there with him, but I left him on the dirt, anyway. He was busy moaning while I cocked the Glock and gave a 360-degree spin, prepared to do whatever was necessary to keep the jerk safe. At least, for the moment.
Fortunately, no one showed up except a passing rat or two, excluding the one I stood over. After what felt like a lifetime, I saw Flint’s headlights, although I’m sure it didn’t take him more than three minutes to get there. I helped Nick up. He limped to the car, and Flint, bless him, raised an eyebrow over Nick’s condition but didn’t say a word. What a guy.

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For purchase at Museitup Bookstore
You can read the first chapter of Death Runs in the Family in its entirety at:
http://www.heatherhavenstories.com/

Other ways of communication:
Heather@HeatherHavenStories.com
http://www.heatherhavenstories.com/
Heather's blog at: http://tinyurl.com/4nensnp
http://www.facebook.com
Twitter@HeatherHaven
Twitter@PILeeAlvarez

Please Join Me In Welcoming J.D. Brown, Author of Dark Heirloom

At twenty-seven years old J.D. Brown is a youngster by my lights, but she already knows her stuff. She's written a dynamic novel, Dark Heirloom, a story about a vampire who isn't quite what she is supposed to be. It's a compelling urban fantasy. We'll go into Dark Heirloom later, but first let's get to know J.D. a little better, as she answers some of my questions:

1. What is your favorite book?

This changes often depending on what book I’m currently engrossed in. Right now I’m between books, but two of my favorites are First Grave on the Right by Darynda Jones and The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

2. Who is your favorite writer?

It’s a tie between Anne Rice and Orson Scott Card.

3. If the answers to 1 & 2 are different, why?

Rice and Card are the classic literary geniuses of their time. I love their books and admire and respect all they’ve done in the industry. While I enjoy Clare and Jones’ books, they’re not quite at the same level as Rice and Card yet. They might be some day and that would be awesome.

4. How old were you when you were first published?

I was 26. It was almost a year ago.

5. What writing style do you most abhor?

I wouldn’t say that I hate any specific style - after all, my reading tastes are pretty wide. But there are some pet peeves that will make me stop reading a book. #1 is too much head hoping. I prefer books written in first person point of view because I know there won’t be any head hoping in them. #2 is a predictable plot line an/or stereotypical characters. #3 is too much telling or author narration. I prefer deep character point of view.

6. What is your favorite writing cliché?

I guess it would be vampires? Haha. That’s the thing about clichés, you tend to not like them since they‘re so overused. But I still love vampires.

7. What is your favorite word?

“Love”. It sounds pretty in every language, even when it’s spoken silently.

8. When and how do you write? (typewriter, Mac, in a café, for four hours each morning, etc?)

I’m partial to my PC but got a new laptop and hope to try writing in Starbucks this summer. I usually write either very late at night or very early in the morning. It’s when I’m most creative.

9. What is your greatest fear when you first turn in a manuscript?

Probably the same fear as anyone else; it’s crappy, not ready to be judged and torn apart by the editors, and I should have spent more time on it. Haha. But authors can only do some much.

10. In what era do you wish you’d been born?

Oh, I’m content with this era. I love my technology and my running hot/cold water and wouldn’t dare go back in time without it. If anything, I may go a little ways into the future just to see if we ever event a teleporter device.

11. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

I’m sure it’s things like “OMG” and “LOL” and “dude”. I end up cutting them out of my manuscript a lot.

12. Which talent would you most like to have?

That depends, do you mean a human talent or a supernatural talent? I really wish I was more musically inclined. I love music, but I can’t sing, dance, or play an instrument. As for a supernatural talent, it would be a tie between either being able to fly like Super Man or being able to turn invisible.

13. What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Getting published is definitely tops.

14. Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

Am I allowed to vote for my own characters? I can’t help it, I love Ema from my book Dark Heirloom. She just cracks me up.

15. How would you like to die?

Hmm… Something painless but not instant. I would like to say my good-byes first and leave a proper will.

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Blurb: “You’re a vampire” is so not what Ema Marx wants to hear when she wakes from a two-day coma in a cryptic yet exquisite castle in northern Finland. Unfortunately, it explains a lot. Like why she’s able to see in the dark and walk through solid objects. What she doesn’t understand is why the other vampires expect her to have all the answers. It’s their fault she turned into one of them…right?
Jalmari’s hatred for his old-man intensifies when he’s ordered to bring that troublesome girl to their castle. He has a clan to run, there’s no time for babysitting newborn vampires no matter how they were converted to their culture. But when a two-thousand-year-old premonition threatens to take the crown and his life, Jalmari sees no other choice than to take out the catalyst. Ema Marx. Fortunately for Ema, she could also be the clan’s only savior.
The race to figure out her vampiric origins is on. And maybe she’ll get the hang of the blood-drinking gig along the way…

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Short excerpt:


My reflection haunted me as I stood with my forehead pressed against the mirror in the bathroom. I couldn’t feel the glass. My brain told me it should’ve been cold and hard, but all my skin felt was pressure.
I looked like a zombie. My tan had disappeared, replaced by liquid white, my skin a numb rubbery latex. My teeth fanged like an animal’s. My eyes…
Two days ago, my eyes were bright brown. Now they were the darkest shade of black, like onyx beads. The irises blended into freakishly wide pupils. Little specks of scarlet glittered in tiny splashes around the irises. Shuddering, I stepped away from the mirror.
Vampire.
I couldn’t believe it. One thing was for sure; they weren’t human. Humans couldn’t fly or walk through walls. Humans couldn’t hear or smell things from miles away with precise accuracy. They couldn’t see distinct detail or vivid color in the dark of night.
Aliens, ghosts, monsters…it didn’t matter what name they chose. The fact remained the same; they were convinced I was one of them now.

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Buy Links:
• Amazon Kindle
• MuseItUp Publishing Inc.

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Author Bio: J.D. Brown graduated from the International Academy of Design and Technology with a Bachelor Degree in Fine Arts. She currently lives in Wisconsin with her two Pomeranians. Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, her writing is influenced by the multicultural urban society of her youth which she continues to visit each summer. J.D. loves paranormal characters; from vampires and werewolves, demons and angels, to witches and ghost. Her writings are often a combination of suspense and romance.
J.D.’s books are available in e-book formats from Muse It Up Publishing Inc. and major e-book retailers. She loves to hear from readers. You can reach her via email to DarkHeirloom@gmail.com or visit her website at
http://authorjdbrown.com
Author’s Links:
• Facebook Fan Page
• Twitter Profile
• J.D.’s Blog
• J.D.’s Book Club

Thanks for visiting today! Below is the book trailer for Dark Heirloom. Check it out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmXHBli2yRw&feature=g-upl&context=G247242eAUAAAAAAABAA