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Win a Free Kindle Fire 7

Hi,

IN HONOR OF DARK VORTEX RELEASE DAY!!!

Here’s your chance to win a Kindle Fire 7!

or a $10 gift card

or a Signed/Magnet Card set

or a Signed Copy of ‘How To Train Your Knight’!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Writing is Therapy

I killed off my coworker, today.
Yup. I threw him out a porthole window, the ship’s propeller sucked him in and shot him out as shark bait.
God, what a catharsis. It was GREAT!
I laughed so hard.
My hero in the book said, “Oops.”
The heroine gave him a high-five.
Poor Mohammad, evil terrorist.
In real life, he’s just a pain-in-the-ass project manager and misogynist.
Writing is therapy.
Yup.
I think I’ll kill off another project member this week.
I shall write her as a real witch, who is working with a dark lord to destroy the world.
She’ll have to die a terrible death, don’t you think?
In real life? She made it a point to be abusive and condescending on a phone call.
In that she works for a multi-million dollar partner, I bit my tongue.
I wrote her into my next book, during that call.
Bwa ha haaaa.
If they only knew.
I write fiction.
It is my therapy.
It is my joy.
It is my escape.
A young man left the gym today and made it a point of removing his shirt for all to see.
Guess I’ll write in those biceps, and tattoos, as well.
And my fears, and my tears.
And my emotional issues.
And share myself with you.
You know me from my writing.

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What is a Facebook Release Party?

Funny you should ask!

Chantel and I are having a release party and I would like to invite you, personally. Please click that you are coming!

https://www.facebook.com/events/1093679247343288/

Now that you’ve done that, let’s talk about a Facebook Event.

It’s merely a way to tell your friends and family that there is something important going on. It’s easy to do. Just make a start date and an end date.

How does that differ from a Facebook Party?

At a party, people come to visit, right?

However, unlike a REAL party, it isn’t rude to jump in, say a few words, or enter a contest, and leave.

So, at a Facebook Party, people come to visit the URL of the event. They might play a game, click like, enter a raffle, or post something on the timeline.

Our release party is going to be ‘hosted’ by different authors over the course of one day. This is a lot of fun. There are games and prizes and clever folks. Sometimes its fun just to watch the melee.

We have hired ‘help’ with our party. (In the real world, consider this like hiring a caterer.)

I highly recommend this site below. She helps get us hosts, and sets up the event for us.

https://www.facebook.com/LikeABossBookPromotions/

If you have any questions, leave a comment!

I LOVE to hear from people!

Please let us know, too, if you’d like an ARC to give a review!

(ARC? Advance Review Copy)

Chantel and I are hoping to sell 200 ebooks in pre-sale.

If you want to help us get there, it’s just ONE DOLLAR!

http://a-fwd.com/asin=B01BBHP4DS

 

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NEW WORDPRESS THEME

OMG! I uploaded a new more mobile-friendly wordpress theme last night.

Then, of course, it crashed. Bad news.

Good news. I called my service provider, (netfirms), the increased the cache size, and Woo Hoo! Here we go.

Bad news? Time to go to work.

Good news? I’ll work on it tonight.

Bear with me while I maximize it! When I checked my stats, almost all my visits are via mobile. Doh.

Thanks, as always, you guys, for stopping by.  Can you leave a comment to see if that is working?

Thanks so much! oh yea… don’t forget to download my book and…

stop by later… I have this HUGE secret to share about my next book.

 

 

CLICK COVER TO ORDER

bestseller - Copy

bestseller - Copy

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How do I write a novel?

IT’s 7:17 AM, and I’ve been up since 4:30, writing.

 

I usually get up at 5:30, but I’m working through the last chapter of my second draft and can’t sleep.  The urge to write is too great.
 
What do I mean about my drafts?
 
First, I think of a premise, a what if. For my last book it went something like this. What if there was a noble woman, who refused to be married, and shot arrows at her suitors?
 
Next, I meet the characters, and we talk. I get them to agree about the high-level plot.
 
(In this book, the heroine refused to be anything less than a queen. It took some doing to find a one, other than Edward’s wife. That is why we visit the Isle of Man.)
 
Then, I write down landing points that we all agree upon. This works better than an outline because, generally, my characters refuse to be corralled. I learned this in book one. Now I can prevent endless rewrites.
I talk to them about their goals, motivation, and conflict and I write these down so I can remind them if they get out of hand.
 
Only then, do I release them into their world. I follow them around  and write down what they say. When people ask if I get writer’s block, I laugh. How is that possible. I can barely keep up. Occasionally, if I get a moment. I jot  down a bit of scenery. This is the first draft.
The second draft, where I am now, I add everything else. Sights, sounds, angst, inner thoughts, and scenery. Google becomes my dearest  friend. This is where the real writing takes place.
 
I have targeted to start the third draft in Feb. I will edit my own work for the poetry of the words and hand off to my husband who will fix my grammar, spelling, and find holes in my plots.
Then, I will give my romance novel to a few honest Beta readers and consider their suggestions at length. Some changes will be made. Some not.
 
After this, I am ready to share my work with my publisher’s editor. At this point, it should be almost perfect.
 
She will make some suggestions. I usually agree with all and we send back and forth perhaps two or three  times.

 

Voila! A novel!

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Changed by Italy

SorianoCouple

As I return from my third trip to Italy, and my fourth trip overseas, I am filled with wonder. How can this happened yet again? I look in the mirror and it seems incongruous that the same face stares back.

Like a balloon that has been filled with air and then deflated, I am stretched and changed. I’m filled with sights and sounds of another age. I walked along Medieval paths and touched the slits in the walls from which arrows flew.

darkMedieval

 

I stood in the square where traitors were burned at the stake. As I hiked up the narrow village paths, I ducked, hoping the over-ripe persimmons, known as cachi, would not fall upon my head.

cachi

I passed the old church wine cellar gate on the way to the castle where knights once held their ground.

winecellar

We lit an ancient fireplace and cooked fish over the embers of beechwood; the best, I am told, for cooking.

 

fireplace

I drank new wine from Uncle Tio, was fed by Luisa, and laughed with Fulvio, Stefano and the rest as we shared Christmas and the New Year. I stuffed myself on Panettone and drank cappucinno. I fell in love with my daughter Sarah’s extended family.

Truly, I am blessed beyond measure and I am not the same.

I have wonderful new ideas for my next set of Medieval Novels. Stop by occasionally and I will share!

For now, I hope you will enjoy a Romance in Medieval England. Choose one or both!

tower

US: http://ow.ly/WjTXG
CA: http://ow.ly/WjU15
UK: http://ow.ly/WjU58

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A New Interview With Myself

sue

Hey! Where’re you going? I thought we were going to blog for a moment?

I’ve got a Zumba class in 15 minutes. Sorry. I hate interviews. Have I mentioned that?

 

Zumba? Really? I mean you’re getting on in years. I hope you take it easy…

Hell no. I take it to the max. I got calories to burn. I sit at a desk all day long.

 

What other workouts do you do?

I exercise at least six times a week. One step class, three Zumba classes, and two yoga classes. Listen, I really need to go…

 

That seems like a lot. When do you find time to write?

I get up at 5:30 seven days a week and write for at least two hours.

 

How impressive. How do you force yourself to do that?

Huh? Force? I’ve heard other people say what ‘hard work’ writing is. It’s not like that for me. What is hard, is to STOP writing. I wish I could write all day and all night.

 

I see you’ve published two medieval romances. Is there a particular reason you chose that genre?

Ha. ‘How to Train Your Knight’ was the first to get noticed by a publisher and my best at that time. I have a couple contemporary novels and a paranormal story just waiting for me to go back and get them ready for print. I wish I had more time…

 

Did you always want to be a writer?

Uh… no…. Honestly? For the longest time, I didn’t think beyond saving for my kids’ college, paying my bills, and getting a good night’s sleep. Being able to write is a recent discovery. I learned I can paint watercolors, as well. I sold a few in a gallery. And I learned to tile, and ah, code, manage a software project… I think as we get older, our capacity to learn increases. Don’t you?

 

Hmmm. Most would disagree.

You really are a Debbie Downer. Got a case of the Mondays? You get one more question. As I said, I have a workout.

 

What advice would you give new writers?

First of all? Do you love it? If not, find something else to do. If yes, then write every spare minute you have and then, if you are serious? Get some professional feedback and get better at your art. Then write some more and get more feedback, and write some more and get your work out there. And dream big and get published and write some more.

Sorry self. I gotta go. We can talk later.

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Stella channels the past?

af0c84d5492a484b8076b638c3574d68The weirdest thing happened this morning and I just have to share it.

For those of you that don’t know me, I’m generally considered an extremely level-headed woman, I know well the difference between making things up and reality.

So that is why I am FREAKING OUT!

The heroine in my third book is entirely fictional and is supposed to be the only living survivor of King Magnus, the last of the Norse rulers on the Isle of Man. In my story, the King of Scotland, who conquered the Manx,  decides to put her on the throne, as an effort to win the goodwill of the people. I made up a haughty female to be able to spar with the alpha knight I have in mind.

This morning, while doing some research on the ‘Isle of Man,’ I found an obscure reference to another,  written by a scholar at Western Michigan University. In it, I read that there actually was a queen on the isle of Man in the same decade in which I am writing!  She was the closest living heir to the last king of Man,

I had no idea.

SHIVERS.

http://www.medievalists.net/2012/09/16/viking-women-in-the-isle-of-man/

http://scholarworks.wmich.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1057&context=hilltopreview

 

 

 

 

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Merry Monday Presents ‘How To Marry Your Wife’

OMG OMG OMG OMG

You have JUST GOT to see what my FIRST REVIEW LOOKS like.

I am humbled, awed, inspired, and jumping for joy.

http://www.adrisinclair.com/how-i-went-to-scotland-on-a-horse-by-adri-sinclair/

COMING NOVEMBER 18th!!!!

COVER BLURB!

     What foul devilry is this? They told her he was dead. After six long years without a word, her knight falls onto his knees and sings poetry? Then he denies their son? Heed this well. She’s no longer an innocent who’ll giggle and tarry on his every word. The sharp edge of her tongue is the only welcome he’ll get. She’ll not marry him. The pain would be too much to bear should he ever leave again.
Her attitude is beyond understanding. What voice did he have in his travels? The king commanded and he obeyed. Regardless of her fierce scowls, the Templar knight decides to wed and win back her favor. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall. Ahead, evil deeds await, laced with castles, kidnappings, and secrets. Will the treacherous journey split them asunder forever? Mayhap only in death will he rekindle the passion they once shared.

 

EXCERPT:

“My lord, your castle awaits to the north and your relatives may be held captive. We must turn back.” The words were spoken by Harold-the-Younger who would be forgiven, just this once, for his impertinence.

“And my wife is missing. Thank you for stating the obvious. If you can’t be more helpful, I suggest your mouth be best used for taking in breath.”

Jacob pointed down the river. “There. What’s that?”

Thomas’ heart sank. A flat bottomed boat lay bobbing upside down against the bank of the river. A woman’s body lay beside it in a pool of blood. He swallowed hard and dug spurs into Demon’s side. His charger tossed his head, snorted, and veered, but Thomas gained control and raced toward the grisly scene.

A dog chewed at a headless mass of flesh and snarled. He kicked the animal away, squatted, and cursed. Pieces of Merry’s bloodied tunic twisted among the innards. He dropped to his knees and shouted with first raised into the air. “Be ye damned forever.” Part of the curse was for whoever had just killed her, the other for God, and lastly for himself.

Assessing the gore was the hardest thing he’d ever done. What was left of the flesh had the length and breadth of his wife. One arm was cleaved at the wrist. His soul refused to acknowledge the scene in front of his eyes and he refused to mourn. Not yet. He’d find the bastard who’d done this to her, cleave him in to small bits, and let the vultures feed.

A horse whinnied behind him and Jacob’s flat voice spoke, “The head is gone.”

“Let me be. I’ll bury her. Alone.” He gathered stones and placed them beside the body.

“It’s way too opportune that the poor woman’s head and hand are missing. I smell a ruse.”

The blackness that threatened to devour his soul wouldn’t let in one ray of hope. “Do as you will. I’ll bury what’s left of her.”

Thomas scoured the flood plain for a sign of her. Was it possible? Crows circled above, but other than that, the land lay bare. All signs and tracks around the body had been swept away. The coward was clever. About a mile beyond, a forest loomed. Perhaps the woman-slayer trembled there.

Having no shovel, but many a stone, Thomas moved the body parts to a central area and covered them. With none to watch, tears came unbidden as he placed the last round stone atop what was left of her body. He gasped for air, knowing not how to go on, but knowing he must for his little son.

“What say you, lass? You were right. Better that I should’ve stayed dead.”

Memories, detecting the flaw in his mail, attacked without mercy. Six years ago, he’d spied her across the room with the devil in her eyes. She’d smiled boldly at him and giggled with her friends. The first time they’d sat together at table, he’d fed her like a baby bird and cut her food. All in the great dining room watched, knowing that in the doing so he’d claimed her.

He recalled that fateful night, when they’d hand-fasted before God. She’d begged him to take her and he’d been too weak to resist completely. He’d promised to come back after trading in London and marry her. How was he to know that Marcus would send him abroad at the king’s request? His soul howled, never to be consoled again.

He sobbed, falling upon his knees, with his hands covering his face. Forgive me. He’d loved with her that night as much as he’d dared. So beautiful her lovely sighs, so bountiful her breasts. She’d opened her legs and accepted his hand until she’d come undone. Mayhap a holier man could have resisted her offerings, but oh no, not him. Nay. He took all but her virginity and remembered how sweet the agony to spew his seed between her legs.

He allowed one more moment of self-pity, planted the final rock upon her grave, and squeezed his eyes as they burned. He apologized for his blasphemy and prayed God to take his angel into heaven and allow him to meet her there anon. First, he would seek revenge and see to the welfare of his son.

His eyes popped open when the grasses rustled in front of him and the ground opened up. A muddy black demon arose with shiny eyes and yellow teeth. Grinning, it exited the hole with a most ordinary sword held high. Then there was naught, but darkness.

 

 

 

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‘How To Marry Your Wife’

Tell me. What do you think? COMING NOVEMBER 18th!

What foul devilry is this? They told her he was dead. After six long years without a word, her knight falls onto his knees and sings poetry. Then he denies their son? Heed this well. She’s no longer an innocent who’ll giggle and tarry on his every word. The sharp edge of her tongue and knife is the only welcome he’ll get. She’ll not marry him. Besides, the pain would be too much to bear should he leave her again.

Shocked beyond measure that he has a son, a Templar agrees he must wed. He insists his new family travel with him to his lands in the north. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall and evil deeds weave into a plot laced with castles, kidnappings, and pigeons. Will the journey split them asunder forever? Perhaps only in heaven will he find a way into her hardened heart.

Check out the prologue.

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