Category: Author Information

Find out more about your favorite author or maybe someone new.

APPing: For Better or Worse? #MFRWauthor

Apps, apps, and more appsAre you married to your APPs? If so, you might be wasting a good bit of time. I wouldn’t say I’m tied to my APPs—and I don’t have very many of them—but I do have an on-again-off-again love affair with a few of them.

  • Solitaire: This is my all time favorite time-wasting APP. I play Solitaire when I’m bored, when I’m watching/listening to my Investigate Discovery shows, when I’m doing the same to the news, or when hubby says he’ll be on the computer for a few minutes and I don’t want to pick up the Kindle. It’s a good all-around APP!
  • News APP: I check my favorite news APP at least twice a day.
  • Weather APP: I keep up with my weather, my mom’s, my in-laws’, and West Yellowstone. Why West Yellowstone? Just because.
  • Text: When needed.
  • Google Maps: If I’m watching something and a town is mentioned, I must know where that town is.
  • Google: I use this stupid APP all the time! Can’t tell you all the silly thing I look up. If an actress looks familiar, I have to know where else I’ve seen her. If someone mentions a constitutional amendment, I have to know what that amendment says. What did we do before Google? We spent more time at the library and less time looking up a thousand times a day.

Those are pretty much the only APPs I use. I wish I could delete the extra ones Apple puts on the phones that I will never use but I push them to the back screens. I would say that most of the APPS I listed above are time The ubiquitous Solitairewasters. I got along for the vast majority of my life without having weather, Google, Solitaire, etc. at my fingertips and led a very happy life. I think I could have gone the rest of my life without them. But since I do have them… Pardon me while I go play a game of Solitaire.

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

History, mystery, love, intrigue: Jan Selbourne!

This month my friend and partner in crime shares a view into her real world in Oz and her writing world in the mists of history. Welcome to Nomad Authors, Jan!

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book, The Proposition?
JS: In 2015 I visited the WW1 battlefields in Belgium and France where The Propositionmillions of young men perished in that awful war. Thousands of those war graves bear the inscription Known Only to God. That made me wonder if it was possible for a soldier to swap identity discs with another whose body was unrecognizable. London’s Imperial War Museum and the Australian War Memorial told me it was indeed possible although very risky. If caught, the soldier could face the death penalty. That was enough for me to begin The Proposition.

NA: What sort of research did you do to write The Proposition?
JS: First, emails to London’s Imperial War Museum and the Australian War Memorial. I researched the huge Battle of Amiens which helped turn the tide of the war. I researched the military demobilizing process, post war London and the value of money at that time. I walked London’s streets, visited the pubs and inns and train stations featured in the book to ensure the background was as authentic as possible.

NA: What is the main thing you want readers to take away from The Proposition?
JS: I want readers to feel they are there with the characters.

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time?
JS: I’m retired now. My working years were in the dry world of accounting.

NA: What started you on the path to writing?
JS: I’ve always had the urge to write but career and family came first until a change of direction in life five years ago. I had stories to tell and the time to tell them.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
JS: I think most of them were very surprised I actually published a book!

NA: Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?
JS: My books start with an idea and I am a seat-of-my-pants writer.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
JS: Definitely the lovely, positive reviews, they make it all worthwhile. And, I must say the biggest thrill I had was holding a copy of my first book, Behind the Clouds, [that became] Perilous Love.Perilous Love

NA: Do you have quirky writing habits?
JS: Not that I know of. Perhaps what I think is normal might be very quirky to others!

NA: Which kind of scenes are the hardest for you to write? Action, dialogue, sex?
JS: Sex scenes are the hardest.

Jan Selbourne books

NA: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
JS: Travel, if I can afford it.

NA: What are your top three favorite books of all time?
JS: Heck, I have dozens of favorite books but three that come to mind now are: Sara Dane by Catherine Gaskin, The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame, the biography of Sir Edward (Weary) Dunlop.

Perilous Love

NA: A pet peeve.
JS: Someone sniffling.

NA: Why did you choose the shirt you have on?
JS: It was at the top of the pile this morning.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning?
JS: I’ll lie here for one more minute.

NA: What errand/chore do you despise the most?
JS: Ironing, although I avoid that like the plague. Coming home from shopping and realizing I must go back because I’d forgotten the main item.

NA: What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
JS: Sir David Attenborough.

NA: What are you working on now?
JS: This interview. Oh, other than that I am working on a story set in Boston and England during the late 18th century.

Lies of Gold

Thank you for this interview, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Jan

Author bio:

Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales

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Buy links:

The Proposition
Perilous Love
Lies of Gold

A Duty to History

History was my favourite school subject and I guess its never left me. It’s fascinating to learn how each era played a part in shaping our world today. Historical novelsThanks to those scholars and writers with their quills and artists with brushes, we have priceless records of empires and monarchs, exploration of unknown continents, heroes and traitors and medical breakthroughs. The Magna Carta is an excellent example of history with us today.

That puts a big responsibility on authors writing in the historical genre. If we are writing a biography, we must research the facts or be shot out of the water by a history buff. If we write historical fiction, we must research that era to provide an accurate as possible background. We can’t put our characters into the Tudor era, for instance, without portraying that period warts and all. It was colourful, turbulent and brutal.

The Regency period is popular with authors and readers because it was a renaissance of fashion, architecture, literature and music. Beneath the glossRegency couple was poverty, a rigid class system, bigotry and ruthless punishments for petty crimes. An Irish ancestor of mine was transported in chains to Van Diemen’s Land penal colony (now Tasmania, Australia). The thirteen-thousand-mile journey, with appalling food and conditions, took over three months. Her crime was stealing fifteen shillings. Granted, it was a lot of money then and the penalty of fifteen years transportation was better than a public hanging.

Perilous LoveWhile writing Perilous Love, I visited the war memorials in Belgium and France. The devastation and brutality inflicted on those countries during World War One is faithfully preserved, and visiting the area helped me portray that terrible time in my book. I walked among the thousands of immaculately kept war graves, with so many bearing the sad inscription, “Known Only to God.” One was particularly poignant. An unknown Australian lay in an unmarked grave for 75 years before he was Australian soldier's slouch hatbrought home to rest in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the Australian War Memorial.

That made me wonder if it was possible for a soldier to take the identity discs of a fallen comrade who was virtually unrecognisable. In those days, war service records were hand written with basic details of name, marital status, religion, height, colour, weight. I was sure such a thing (exchanging identities) did happen, but I had to do my research. I contacted London’s Imperial War Museum and the World War One memorial plaqueAustralian War Memorial with that query. Both very kindly replied that yes it was possible, although the chances of being caught were high and the penalty very harsh. Neither would admit it did happen but it was good enough for me to begin writing my third book, The Proposition where one man enlists to avoid prison and another enlists to avoid the money lenders.

Thus, on the bloodied battlefields of France, Harry Connelly collapses beside the corpse of Andrew Conroy. It was a risk. A hanging offence, The Propositionactually. But it was also Harry’s only hope for a future. Harry swaps identity discs—and falls into more than he ever bargained for! Shortly after his return to London, a letter arrives with a proposition which plunges him into a nightmare of murder, jealousy and greed. To survive he must live this lie without a mistake.

Could I have written both Perilous Love and The Proposition without benefit of visiting the battlefields and museums of World War One, or without writing official organizations? Sure. But the realism which I add to my books would be missing. An historical author owes her readers accuracy and realism, and I do my best to provide both!

Thanks for reading!
Jan

Jan Selbourne was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia and her love of literature and history began as soon as she learned to read and hold a pen. After graduating from a Melbourne Business College her career began in the dusty world of ledgers and accounting, working in Victoria, Queensland and the United Kingdom. On the point of retiring, she changed course to work as secretary of a large NSW historical society. Now retired Jan is enjoying her love of travelling and literature. She has two children, a stray live in cat and lives near Maitland, New South Wales

Contact Jan:
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Marriage and Trucking? Yes!

I wrote this blog post many years ago, but since we just celebrated our 46th anniversary, I thought it deserved a second run! I hope you enjoy!!

Marriage Lessons Learned from Driving a Truck

On the event of his fiftieth wedding anniversary, a friend asked my father-in-law if in all those years he ever considered divorce.

“Never,” he said right away. “I thought about murder once or twice, but never divorce.”

Now his son and I are closing in on the fifty-year mark and I completely understand what he meant.

Our marriage has been a contradiction. We spent a lot of time apart–years in one case–and also a lot of time joined at the hip–again, for years. While the months and more we spent living in separate states was hard, the time we lived in each other’s pockets made the biggest difference in our lives. That’s when I learned the tips of making a marriage last.

Jack and I met in eighth grade algebra class, children of military fathers and a somewhat unsettled lifestyle. He was nice and funny, but before the next year started, he left for private school. We had no contact until sophomore year when he came home for Christmas. On the spur of the moment, he asked me on a double date, and my life changed course.

What if?When he went back to school after the holidays (which set the tenor of our dating years, more apart than together), he pronounced us soul mates and predicted we would marry someday. How romantic! Or at least that’s what I thought.

Jack’s mind took a more practical tack. No roses or poetry for him. He didn’t even believe in dating exclusivity, saying this was our time to make sure we wanted to share our lives with each other. Good advice, but it didn’t quite fit my picture of what Prince Charming would say. Before long, he proved through example what he did believe in, loyalty, fidelity and rock-solid reliability, making him more of a Prince than lots of romantic guys I knew. I was no dummy. As soon as possible I grabbed him by the lapels and dragged him to the nearest church.

Besides me, Jack also loved trucking. He told me over and over while we dated that he someday wanted us to drive a truck together. Naturally I had little knowledge of what that entailed. All I knew of trucks was that where they parked the food was good. That proved to be a little sparse on the details.

“It sounds wonderful,” I said with stars in my eyes. “Yes, let’s do it someday,” someday being the operative word.

So it was some surprise when, a short year after the wedding, Jack diligently went about finding a way we could go on the road. I had a college degree (the only person in my family to make it that far) and felt sure I’d set the world on fire. More than that, I was an only child, and my parents insisted that “trucker” wasn’t a profession for their daughter. What about stability, building a resume, buying a home? What about grandchildren? I assured them they had little to worry about.

“Look at this,” Jack said one Sunday morning. He handed me a copy of Trucking--fun and clothedParade magazine with a man and woman on the cover, standing in front of a Peterbuilt truck. “This is what we should be doing.”

The article described their lifestyle driving for a company out of Minnesota. The woman was pretty, the guy handsome, the truck huge with a double bed, TV, and ‘fridge. Wow! Their exploits sounded exciting and adventurous, like modern-day pioneers, except truckers could down icy Cokes on their trek across the desert.

Wanderlust struck like summer lightning. “Where do we sign up?” I asked.

Almost before I got out the words, we gave up our apartment, sold our furniture and resigned our jobs. Jack’s parents waved us off, reconciled to our insanity. My parents weren’t happy but they decided we had to make our own mistakes. We drove to Marietta, Georgia and signed up with a company that operated east of the Mississippi. Jack finally laid hands on a semi and trailer he could load with freight and drive on the open road. I laid my first good gaze on truckers. Oh. My. Gosh.

Now I hate to generalize, but three quarters of the men I met had serious problems keeping teeth in their mouths, hair on their heads and belts below size 48. I began to wonder about the food in those truck stops.

“You aren’t going to become toothless, are you?” I wondered aloud to Jack.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Uh, never mind.” I hated to rain on his parade. Obviously the man had eyes only for his truck.

And what a truck it was. The semi in the Parade article gleamed a nice green and gold and had all the comforts of home. This conglomeration of rusted steel and rivets barely seemed able to make it across the parking lot without losing pieces. The cab held only a suitcase or two, stored under the twin-size bunk. Beneath the dirt, our aged Mack was dull pumpkin orange. I bit my tongue and climbed in.

Rural road without iPhoneJack had the necessary experience to be a lead driver, but I had nothing but the required Class A license, gained in our home state by answering “Yes,” when asked if I’d driven fifteen hundred miles in a Class A vehicle and handing over eighteen dollars. Jack spent every free moment in the truck yard, teaching me to shift gears and start and stop without stalling. Then we traveled back Georgia roads until I acquired the knack of when to shift. By the end of the week we were off. Was I nervous?

“I’m nervous,” I said the first time I drove on the Interstate.

“Keep the shiny side up,” Jack said, and promptly fell asleep.

And here is where I learned the first lesson in making a marriage last. Trust.

Jack trusted me, fool in love that he was. When one partner is driving, maybe tired, maybe in bad weather or horrid traffic, the other partner has to believe in the driver’s judgment and skill. Even though I didn’t have his experience, Jack knew I wouldn’t take chances and that I wouldn’t be too proud to ask for help if I needed it. His trust gave me confidence.

“I did it!” I practically shouted after pulling into a rest area and waking him up. I’d driven fifty-eight whole miles but felt as though I’d won Daytona.

I improved each and every day, driving farther, driving smarter. A few months behind the wheel gave us the self-assurance to apply at the company we read about in the Sunday magazine, and soon we guided a fancy, big truck along the western highways as well as the eastern.

One day we sat chatting with another trucker from our company. “How long you been out here?” he asked me.

“About six months. I’m only doing it for a year, though.”

He shot Jack a toothless grin. “Too late. She’s already got it in her blood,” he said. “You got yourself a trucker.”

Another marriage lesson learned. Go with the flow and be flexible. Fate rarely hands you what you plan. I’d always imagined having five children, a nice house and professional job. Never did I envision living out of a Wedding ringssuitcase, traveling North America, spending my time with men (mostly) who didn’t read much more than a Rand McNally. If I had imagined such a scenario, I probably wouldn’t believe how much fun it was, or how much I loved it.

I grasped yet another lesson one cold Montana Sunday morning. We planned to stop at a nearby truck stop for breakfast, so Jack sat up with me while I drove. There was little traffic. If we’d been wolves, we’d have been loping along, chatting pleasantly, without a care. Then a truck passed us, giving up no spray off his tires from what had looked like a wet road.

“You know,” I mused. “I think we might be on black ice.”

“Um, we have been for the past ten or fifteen miles,” Jack said. “I thought you knew.”

“Oh. Oh, sure. I did.” I didn’t change speed, just kept it steady. We pulled into the truck stop a few minutes later, behind the truck that passed us.

“Kinda greasy out there, wasn’t it?” he said as we walked in together.

“Sure was,” I answered knowingly. Jack chuckled and let me off the hook.

The lesson? Stay calm even in bad situations. Every partnership faces trouble at some point. Going off the emotional deep end usually doesn’t help. This wasn’t an easy lesson for me to learn, by the way. I vaguely remember screaming, “We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!” when Jack fought to keep us from jackknifing on an Oregon mountain. He reminded me to calm down in what I thought an overly stern manner, but I forgave him.

I had a mountain experience, too. I’d just started my driving stint in western Montana when unexpected construction put us on a very narrow two-lane road chugging up a steep incline. I had never driven up or down a mountain that wasn’t part of the Interstate system. I called to Jack.

“There’s no place to pull over and I don’t know what to do,” I explained as he came awake. My hands gripped the wheel but I felt immediate relief when he spoke.

“Just do what you’re doing. You’re fine. Take it easy.” Then he talked, just talked, about nothing in particular, and I answered. Maybe fear led him to the conversation, but he didn’t show it.

I shifted as needed, and before starting downhill made sure I found a gear that would hold us back. “I know I’m going too slow for the line of trucks behind me,” I worried aloud.

“That’s their problem. If they hadn’t had that second cup of coffee back in Butte, they’d be ahead of us.”

I laughed, took a deep breath and did just fine, as Jack predicted I would. At the bottom I asked if I handled everything as I should.

“You’re upright, so you did good.”

Those were good words to hear. Lessons learned: Don’t be afraid to rely on the person you love most in the world. (They should be able to rely on you, too.) Prayer is a powerful thing. You won’t always do everything exactly as the book says, but that’s okay if you come out upright at the end.

Maybe the greatest lesson I learned from trucking was how important it is to choose your mate carefully. For eight years, except for using separate bathrooms in truck stops, Jack and I lived within an arm’s reach of each other. Even when we took time off, we spent our time together. Yet for all that, we never ran out of things to say, ideas to explore, or something to laugh about. Good looks are nice. Sex is great. But loving someone you can talk with even after days together in cramped quarters is the definition of a good marriage, in my mind.

Soon after we stopped driving, Jack became a consultant and took jobs all over the country. Often, contractual obligations kept me from traveling with him and as much as we had been together, we lived separately.

Would we have made it through the apart times as well if we hadn’t learned those marriage lessons from the road? Probably, but I’m glad we didn’t have to find out. During years of dating and our early married life, I was in love with Jack. Trucking is a hard life and not romantic, as many people think. But you can find romance and deep, abiding love. Our time on the road introduced me to my husband, a man I loved.

As his dad later quipped, learning our marriage lessons didn’t keep me (or him) from imagining the occasional murder, but they gave our shared life depth and meaning. They made it so, in the worst of times, we kept truckin’ on.

Thanks for reading and thus sharing our anniversary!

Dee

In case you missed it: New anthology and April news!

Aussie to Yank newsletter

Jan Selbourne and I have a newsletter we call Aussie to Yank. She’s the Aussie (!–a Saucy Aussie) and we have fun talking a bit about our changing, backward seasons, what’s going on in our necks of the woods, our books, and our lives. There are also jokes each month to make you smile and an Author Friend corner.

The newsletter is sent out monthly (roughly). To join, just drop either of us an email and we will sign you up! dsknight@deesknight.com or janselbourne@gmail.com.

Here’s a sample! In this month we take a jump on the new supernatural anthology Black Velvet Seductions will launch this fall. I think you’ll like our newsletter!

Thanks!!

Dee and Jan

For a Killer Author, Zia Westfield!

Nomad Authors is happy to host an interview of Zia Westfield. She’s a very interesting writer! You might even say she’s a killer of an author!

Zia Westfield's Killer series

NA: How did you come up with the idea for your book?
ZW: I love gothic romances. There’s something about the atmosphere that grips you from the start. I also had in my head the movie, Gaslight. That was the inkling that got me started on Killer Lies, but I really didn’t know where I was going until I reached the end. 🙂

NA: What sort of research did you do to write this book?
ZW: I set my story in western New York State, near the Pennsylvania border. I had fun researching what kind of smuggling took place during Prohibition. I also spent time learning about reptiles in the area.

NA: What is the main thing you want readers to take away from your book?
ZW: I hope readers walk away feeling fulfilled and feeling that Kelsey and Sam deserved the happiness that they found with each other.

NA: Do you have a day job? What was your job before you started writing full time? What started you on the path to writing?
ZW: I have always been a voracious reader. I went through so many books growing up. I could never get enough. When I first came to Japan, it wasn’t easy to find English books and they cost a lot. Now with Amazon Japan and Kindle, books are only a click away. When my children were born, I was a stay-at-home mom. I itched to do something beyond childrearing and reading. I had all these voices in my head, demanding that I put their stories on paper. I started writing late at night, after my sons were in bed. It took a while, but I was never more proud than when I finished my first manuscript. I now teach fulltime. It can be tough sticking to a writing schedule after a long day at work. But those voices in my head won’t go away and so I make the time to write because it’s who I am.

NA: What do your friends and family think about your being a writer?
ZW: My family is generally proud of me, though no one has read anything I’ve written. LOL! My sons pat me on the back and tell me, “Good job.”

NA: The biggest surprise you had after becoming a writer
ZW: I’m shy about sharing my writing with others. I teach and I present at conferences. I’ve given speeches in my city with the local mayor in attendance. I am not shy as a person. But when it comes to my writing and promoting myself, I become a turtle. I’m really working on being more confident about my books.

NA: Do you outline books ahead of time or are you more of a by-the-seat-of-your-pants writer?
ZW: I really really want to outline my books. I feel like I could be more productive as a writer if I had a plan. The reality is that I often have a beginning in mind. If I’m lucky, I can manage to outline a general plan. But, when I sit down, I often veer off from that plan and end up writing by the seat of my pants. When that happens, it takes me time to figure out where I’m going next and making sure that all loose ends are appropriately tied. Maybe one day I’ll figure out the magic formula to plotting.

NA: What has been one of your most rewarding experiences as an author?
ZW: I recently learned that my first book Killer Secrets placed in the Oklahoma RWA International Digital Awards contest for 2018. That other writers judged my novel to be worthy of such an award, really brought it home for me—I’m a writer and my stories entertain people. [NA: YAY!! Congratulations!]

NA: Which kind of scenes are the hardest for you to write? Action, dialogue, sex?
ZW: Love scenes are the hardest for me to write. Some action and dialogue scenes will just flow from my fingertips. But writing love scenes that do not come off as clinical or mechanical is challenging! It’s important in a love scene that the connection between the characters jumps off the page. The reader has to believe that this is the right moment for these two characters to come together. If the chemistry is there, I know the scene will be the sensuous read I intend it to be.

NA: Why did you choose the shirt you have on?
ZW: It’s comfortable! I am all about comfort. I wear flat-heeled shoes for the most part. I dress business casual for work. I like to move with ease and I like clothes that breathe. I also like bright colors. The shirt I have on is a lovely fuchsia color that lifts my spirits.

NA: First thought when the alarm goes off in the in the morning?
ZW: Hmmm…I’m not sure about the first alarm. I’m lucky if I hear it. I set about 5 alarms on my phone, which drives my husband crazy. I am not a morning person. And until you get one cup of black coffee in me—preferably Peets French Roast—I am not even human. 😉

NA: What errand/chore do you despise the most?
ZW: I don’t have a clothes dryer or a dishwasher. I’ll let you all guess what chores I despise! LOL!

NA: What are you working on now?
ZW: I am working on a novella that I hope to offer for free to people who sign up to my newsletter. It’s tentatively called Killer Date, but that might not remain the title. It features Melissa Carmichael, the sister of Sam Carmichael, the hero in Killer Lies. I’ve paired Melissa with Harry Fontana, a PI with attitude. It has my trademark excitement, suspense and romance with a dash of humor.

In the meantime, keep an eye out for Killer Deceptions, which should be released in Spring 2019.

Killer Lies

Killer Lies
Zia Westfield
(Deadly Encounters Series, #2)
Publication date: December 21st 2018
Genres: Adult, Suspense

Kelsey Tremayne’s life unraveled in the summer of her 16th year when she and a friend were abducted. She came out of the experience alive, but without memories of her abduction and her friend was never found. Rumors that she’d killed her friend in jealousy, and that she was mentally unstable, started and eventually her parents moved her away from Carville. Now, she’s back in Carville to settle her aunt’s estate. However, someone is watching her, playing with her mind. Could it even escalate to murder?

One man is willing to stand by her, protect her, and breach the barriers that have guarded her heart for so long.

Sam Carmichael stays focused on the job and keeps his personal interactions limited. The emotional instability of his wife and her subsequent suicide have made him leery of getting deeply involved with anyone. Even so, someone is targeting Kelsey Tremayne and the roots go back twelve years to an abduction that was never solved. As Sam is drawn deeper into the case, he can’t help admiring Kelsey’s strength and compassion and he vows to do everything he can to find the truth and bring her kidnapper to justice.

Can two people hurt by their pasts survive a criminal’s web to find a future together?

Goodreads Amazon USA Amazon UK Amazon Australia

Killer Secrets

Killer Secrets
Zia Westfield
(Deadly Encounters Series, #1)
Publication date: February 5th 2017
Genres: Adult, Suspense, Romance

With bills to pay, an orphaned niece to raise and her job on the line, Gemma Fitzgibbons needs a front-page story in order to keep her job. A serial killer and a corrupt detective, whose father was accused of corruption, offer headline possibilities, but when she confronts Jack Donahue, the detective is nothing like she expected.

Jack considers reporters to be bottom-feeders, and deep into the investigation of a series of murders in which the victim is posed with a wedding veil, he doesn’t have the time or inclination to delve into the scandal that ruined his father’s career. But Gemma won’t take no for an answer. Neither will she stop investigating the Wedding Veil Killer. When she attracts the attention of the killer, Jack is assigned to keep her safe. But Gemma isn’t about to hide away. She intends to use the leads she’s developed to help him track down the person responsible for the gruesome murders.

Torn between his dislike of reporters and his admiration for the smart, sexy, reporter he’s drawn deeper into the scandal in his father’s past–a scandal that someone will kill to keep hidden. But, when Gemma uncovers secrets about the scandal, and her life is threatened, Jack is determined to protect her. It’s also time to make a choice—leave the past buried or fight for the future.

Goodreads Amazon USA Amazon UK Amazon Australia

Zia WestfieldAuthor Bio
Zia Westfield creates suspenseful, exciting stories with romance at the heart of them. There is nothing more thrilling than watching two people fall in love despite the odds and the danger surrounding their every move.

She makes her home in Tokyo with her husband and three sons. She holds a full-time job, volunteers too much because she doesn’t know how to say “no,” and generally finds peace between the pages of a book or when she’s writing out the stories in her head.

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Excerpt from Killer Lies:

CHAPTER 1:
Sam Carmichael switched his high beams on and eased off the pedal as he drove the narrow mountain road. Fat raindrops splattered the windshield of the SUV in a steady torrent that even the windshield wipers working double time couldn’t keep up with.

The Tremayne mansion drive should be another half a mile up the road. He’d be glad to get there. The mountainside wasn’t known for landslides, but the amount of rain that had been coming down steadily had been causing a number of accidents throughout Carville. Best-case scenario, he’d see the crazy cat lady and get back into town before anything bad happened.

Thunder cracked overhead, followed by a flash of light that lit up the road, revealing towering trees on both sides. He also caught sight of the gate that signaled the Tremayne estate.

He made the turn and pulled up beside the box attached to the wall. He lowered his window, pushed the button and waited for a response.

He’d been out here years ago when he’d been riding patrol. A woman dressed in shawls and surrounded by dozens of cats, or so it had seemed, had answered the door. She’d insisted that he find the person who was trying to steal her cats.

Setting aside his private thoughts, he’d checked the house and the grounds, but had found no signs of anyone having been there.
He’d chalked it up to experience and had forgotten about it until tonight, when the desk Sergeant had roped him into coming to check out a report of a possible burglary before going home.

“Lucky me,” he said into the darkness.

“Excuse me?” The voice crackled across the intercom.

Sam leaned out, ignoring the rain that pelted him, and spoke loudly.

“Detective Sam Carmichael, Carville PD. I’m here about the burglary.” He pulled his head back in and waited for the gate to open. Instead, the intercom crackled to life once more.

“Would you show me your badge, Detective?”

Sam reminded himself that he had become a detective to serve the public, even on foul nights when man and beast knew better than to be outside. He fished his badge out of his pocket and thrust it out towards the camera. How the hell the person on the other side expected to see anything with the rain coming down like it was, he didn’t know.

The gate suddenly creaked and slowly began opening.

“You’re welcome,” Sam muttered.

While he waited for the opening to be large enough for him to drive through, he gave himself a stern talking to. Crazy cat lady or not, he would do his job and be professional. Some days were the pits and today ranked as one of them, but he wouldn’t let it interfere with his job.

He drove up the long drive, noting the overgrown lawn and the creepy vibe given off by the ivy crawling up every inch of the turreted mansion, the branches overhanging the drive, and the coldness that seemed to emanate from the dark exterior. Before he left tonight he would make a point to the person who called the stationhouse to add lights to dispel the gloom.

He pulled the SUV as close to the front porch as he could, but he was still soaked by the time he reached the top step.

He pushed the bell next to the door and prepared to meet the crazy cat lady.

The door opened, and Sam stared dumbfounded. The woman before him was dressed in shawls and a long dark grey skirt, and had one cat in her arms while another curled up on a straight back chair that butted up against the wall.

But she was years younger—younger than him, he’d guess—and punch-in-the-gut beautiful.

None of it made sense and he said the first words that popped into his mind.

“What happened to the other crazy cat lady?”
***
Kelsey Tremayne winced at the question. When she’d opened the door, she hadn’t been sure what to expect. The security system needed a major upgrade. She had barely been able to hear the detective identify himself, and the rain and poor camera quality had made it impossible to see his badge clearly.

Though she’d debated the risk in letting him approach, she had decided to chance it. She gripped the pepper spray she held in her hand which was concealed by the shawls. It hadn’t been easy to call the police given her history with them, in fact, her stomach still felt queasy over the decision, but she needed the incidents on record.

Crazy cat lady, indeed.

“Please come in, Detective.” She stepped back and petted Sabina, the white Persian mix that had sought comfort in her arms when the thunder had started.

The detective entered, dripping water on the wood floor, and surveyed her from head to foot. He was tall, over six feet, if she had to guess, with a rangy build, brown close-cropped hair, and a stubborn jaw.

Kelsey could imagine what he saw. A not-very-tall, not-very-short, brown-haired, brown-eyed female with more cats than friends. Okay, he wouldn’t be able to guess the last, but it wouldn’t take long for him to stumble onto the truth.

Then again maybe he already knew it. After all, he’d asked about the other cat lady.

Follow up: An Understanding Family #MFRWauthor

Last week, as part of the MFRW 52-week challenge blog posts, I wrote about the importance of my husband’s family as he fought through school with dyslexia. I just wanted to follow up with a YouTube video that we saw after we were married. When Jack viewed it he said that it showed exactly what it was like for him in the classroom. He also told me about a couple of teachers who recognized his difficulties and did things to make his class day easier for him while still keeping him in the group without being humiliated. Humiliation, unfortunately, played a part in too many of his classes.

The first thing he said one of his teachers did is stand in front of his row every time she was going to call on him for an answer to the next question. That gave him time to focus on what she would ask about. Another similar technique was when kids read paragraphs of text out loud. She started on the side of the room opposite him, He counted the paragraphs until she would reach him and again, he could focus on what he would have to do. Kids with learning disabilities–and even other conditions like shyness–need time to focus and prepare.

So this video is excellent. It was made many years ago but still applies to classrooms today. It’s long, but any part of it you watch is worthwhile. It’s called How Difficult Can this Be? A short three minute excerpt is here. If you’re a teacher or a parent with a child with learning disabilities, I know you will find this interesting.

Thanks!
Dee

An Understanding Family #MFRWauthor

I have struggled today to think of what only my family understands about me and I have to say, I couldn’t think of a thing. I mean, I’m kind of an open book. I asked hubby and even my mom and they thought the same—nope, what you see with Dee is what you get. Nothing special to understand there. I’m not sure if I’m pleased or ticked, but it is what it is. Still, my husband Jack is in a position to fit this topic.

Where I had polio as a baby, Jack had dyslexia. Two very different problems but both crippling in their own ways. With polio, I grew up having surgeries, limping, and wearing braces. My difficulties were easy to see. People quickly made my way easier because my problems were clear. Jack, on the other hand, suffered under the opposite perspective.

When we were in school, dyslexia wasn’t recognized as a learning difficulty. If you couldn’t read it was because you weren’t trying hard enough, you Dyslexiaweren’t reading enough, you were lazy or stupid. Jack’s teachers said as much about him in his classes. His problem was not plain to anyone looking at him. He looked sweet as an angel, but normal. Without some physical sign, there was nothing wrong. At least, that’s what people thought. So while I was given a pass for not being able to run, Jack was not given a pass for not being able to read.

That brings me to the topic of our blog post. No one but Jack’s family—and most particular, his mother—understood how hard he tried to do the things his teachers asked of him. Only his family knew the extra hours he put in studying, how lost he felt when he didn’t understand why he didn’t see theLearning disability same things the other kids did, or how much hurt he bottled up inside. His mom tried so hard to help him but didn’t know exactly what to do to make things better. Later, she gained her master’s degree in education with a specialty in reading so she could help other kids with Jack’s problem, so some good came of his hard time growing up. And as his family now, only I truly understand his pride in finishing his degree summa cum laude. It was a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of him.

All of his feelings about school were impossible to explain to friends. Beyond his actual physical disability, years of trying and failing to succeed at schooling takes a psychological toll, too. But that’s what family is for, right? To support and be there when no one else understands what’s going on in your life?

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

Three Useless Talents #MFRWauthor

It’s difficult to think of having an odd or useless talent when some days I wonder if I have any talent at all, useless or otherwise. ;( But after thinking about it, I realize I can do a few useless things with great success, and I share them with you here as I share them with family and friends.

  1. I can sing the first verse of “Edelweiss” in German. Yes indeed. That’s a talent called upon often (NOT!). I learned the song in my high school German class and somehow never forgot it. It comes in handy at any sing-along of The Sound of Music, which I’m happy to say hardly ever happens.
  2. I can repeat conversations word for word. So if someone asks me if Susie said that she likes her birthday present of an argyle sweater andRepeating conversations matching socks, I can relay Susie’s whole impression, what was said to her and what she replied. This often puts the questioner to sleep with TMI, but hey! It’s a talent, right?
  3. I can parallel park. This used to be a valuable skill but not so much anymore. I used to admire my dad (and most guys I know) that he could place his arm on the back of the seat, turn around and one-handed, slide a car into a space that looked far too small. I can’t do Parallel parkingthat, but give me any normal space and stand back for the sight of your life as I park almost like a guy with the back-up gene. Of course, I pull into a space whenever possible. No need to wear a talent out with too much practice.

So that’s it. The sum total of my useless talents. They aren’t much but I share them whenever possible. You never know when someone might require “Edelweiss” to be sung in German—I want them to know I’m available!

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

Julie Watson: Born for Life and Realizing your Dream

Born for Life
As a child, I dreamt a lot about what I would do with my life. I had a vivid imagination, so my dreams were pretty out there. I really wanted to join the circus, but that dream ended when I crashed through my bedroom wall while practicing somersaults, creating a big hole. My father was not impressed.

My dream to become a nurse – and subsequently a midwife – started when my grandmother gave me a little Ladybird book about the life of Florence Nightingale.

When my adult life started, it seemed unlikely that my dream would be realized. After I got married as a teenager, I had to navigate through the death of my second baby at birth and unrelenting depression. But I knew I had to triumph.

Life is so unknown when we set out as adults. We make many decisions that can steer our life in so many different directions. Shaking off negativity and embracing the positive is hard, as so many challenges confront us. And being a loving, kind and caring person who can forgive others takes a lot of strength. It can be easier to be bitter, angry and resentful. To live a life where we are truly happy takes patience, courage and tenacity.

It took faith and sheer determination, but in the end my dream has come to pass – and it is so much more than I could have hoped for. With the support of my husband and family, I trained as a nurse and then as a midwife, completing my studies at the age of 41. I have been privileged to work as a midwife in New Zealand and other countries around the world. My work has allowed us to travel extensively, which was also a childhood dream.

I want to encourage others to never give up on their dreams and goals. It might take years to become reality, but every decision, every thought and every action can take you closer to what you want to achieve.

I wrote my memoir, Born for Life: A Midwife’s Story, because I needed to tell my story. Firstly, for cathartic reasons – but also to encourage others to never give up on their dreams.

I continue to work as a midwife, mainly in rural Australia, and I continue to write. I never dreamt that I would become an author, but telling my story has opened up a whole new world to me. I have been lucky to meet many fellow authors through RRBC, who have been really supportive. So many, like me, have encouraging stories to tell.

And writing a book has taught me something really important: it’s never too late to discover a new dream!

* * *

Author Bio
Julie WatsonJulie grew up in a small, rural town in New Zealand. After leaving school, she worked at the local maternity annexe as a nurse aide, which gave her a love for caring for mothers and babies. Life could not have been happier, until the death of her second baby at birth led to depression, loneliness and despair.

Julie’s first book Born for Life: A Midwife’s Story follows her journey to overcome the challenges she faced to become the midwife that she was born to be.
She always had a dream to travel and work in a developing country. She had the opportunity to work as a midwife in many countries – including Zambia, Africa where she worked at Kalene Mission Hospital.

Julie’s second book Born for Life: Midwife in Africa describes her experiences living and working in Africa. She shares her incredible journey to make a difference in the lives of African women and their babies.

Julie lives in Palmerston North, New Zealand with her husband, Barry. She has recently retired and enjoys writing, travelling, volunteer work and spending time with her friends and family.
Follow Julie online!
Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
Amazon author page

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Born for Life: A Midwife’s Story
From a young age Julie pondered what she would do with her life. A job as a nurse aide in the local Maternity Annexe at the age of sixteen gave her a love for being with women during labour and birth and caring for mothers and their babies.

Life could not have been happier, married to the man she loved and the birth of a son. The tragic and unexpected death of her second baby in her first hour of life led to depression, loneliness and despair.

Born for Life: A Midwife’s Story tells of Julie’s struggle to overcome tragedy and who triumphs to become the midwife that she was born to be.

The many birth stories are told from an era in the 1970s through the eyes of a young nurse aide to modern day midwifery in New Zealand as an independent midwife with her own caseload.

Buy now on Amazon U.S.
Buy now on Amazon UK
Buy now on Amazon AUS