Romance and Mystery Authors on Writing: Humorous suspense author Kathy McIntosh, Giveaways

Hello and welcome to the series, Romance and Mystery Authors on Writing. I scheduled this series on writing tips for the fall months, but I have had such wonderful response from romance and mystery authors, the guest blogs are now scheduled into February! So you may have noticed I changed the poster, taking out "this fall" since we are now into the holiday season. I hope you are gathering some great tips you can use in your writing, meeting and getting to know authors, and discovering great reads.

Needless to say I'm having a wonderful experience with authors and readers during this series. Thank you so much for supporting this event with your views and comments.

This week I am happy to introduce you to author Kathy McIntosh.  Kathy is generously donating an ebook copy and audio book of her first book, Mustard's Last Stand, in the Havoc in Hancock humorous suspense series for door prizes. Two winners! Please leave a comment to enter.

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Kathy, thanks so much for guesting on the Romance and Mystery Authors on Writing series.

Thanks for a lovely opportunity!

1  What is the best advice for writers that you have received?

The first but definitely not the last time I heard this hint came when Ridley Pearson spoke to Murder in the Grove (a conference I co-founded). He advised writers to keep our butts in our chairs. It later inspired me to write the following as a winning contest entry:

Make writing a whole body experience. Keep your chin up, your feet on the ground, your mind limber and open to new lessons and ideas, your heart set on the goal of becoming a published writer, and your butt in the chair. 

Great advice for sure, but oh some days, it is impossible to do! 

What is your writing tip on Editing?

Alliteration, rhythm and cadence can help you create a memorable voice in your writing. However, these must be added with intention and a light hand. Novelists whose books you can’t put down may have used the rhythm of their words to enchant you. Books that get thrown across the room may have inadvertently abused or overused these devices.

I'm fond of alliteration, but it is easy to fall prey to too much. Do so and the rigorous reader will wish you wouldn't. Giving your characters names that start with the same letter is a form of inadvertent alliteration that can easily confuse your readers. Barney, Bert and Bartholomew are all fine names, but let them appear in separate manuscripts. Even when used for humorous purposes (the triplets, Martha, Margaret and Maeve) you risk confusion. A confused reader may not pick up the book again.

What's going on in your book can influence your choice of rhythm or cadence. Short sentences using short words work well in fast-paced, high tension scenes. Longer, leisurely sentences can set a quieter pace and add a sumptuous tone. 

Alternating short and long sentences changes the rhythm of your words. It's my opinion that you don't find your rhythm in a first draft, but rather recognize it and change it intentionally in second and subsequent drafts. One great way to discover the rhythm (or lack thereof) of your words is to read it aloud. You can also use text to speech software programs such as NaturalReader or Ultra Hal TTS (I love that name) or Text2Speech or TextAloud that will convert your text to spoken words. Most have free versions.

Rhyme works well when you’re creating a slogan or a tagline or a poem. However, inadvertent rhyme in serious writing can bump your reader. I’d chat more about rhyme, but I haven’t the time.

Next time you’re editing an article or some pages from your fiction, take the time to make your words memorable by adding alliteration, rhythm and rhyme.

But remember:  a smidgeon of these devices suffices.

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Kathy McIntosh writes about 

wacky characters seeking justice, 

environmental balance 

and great scones in North Idaho.  

Back of the Book:

Havoc overtakes a peaceful North Idaho town when feuding brothers combat a proposed safari camp. Mustard's Last Stand is the first in the Havoc in Hancock humorous suspense series.

 BUY LINK          

About Kathy:
Kathy McIntosh, a recent voluntary transplant from Boise, Idaho, to Tucson, Arizona, is enjoying the change in scenery from cottonwoods to cactus.

She recently saw three javelinas strolling through her neighborhood! She assures her concerned readers that she can still write about Havoc in Hancock, her humorous suspense series set in North Idaho, and will finish book two, Foul Wind, as soon as she rappels from the stack of moving boxes! Read more at Kathy's website 

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Don't forget to leave a comment. Two winners will be chosen from the commenters after 9 p.m. on Sunday evening. Good luck!

I Love Books Guest Author: Kim Cresswell

I'm excited to welcome romantic-suspense author Kim Cresswell to the J.Q. Rose blog. Kim is my author friend AND editor friend. She was one of the editors for my soon-to-be-released mystery, Coda to Murder, from MuseItUp Publishing. I will be visiting her blog March 5 to introduce the world to my new mystery/sweet romance.

 You'll love this romantic-suspense novel penned by Kim. Now let me get out of the way so Kim can share her story behind the writing of her latest novel, Reflection, and an excerpt.

REFLECTION:  The Story Behind the Book

I love writing and reading romantic suspense!

Not only does the suspense provide instant tension in a story, I love the push-pull-tug-of-war of romance. Will the hero and heroine get together? Will they overcome the conflict and live happily ever after?

In my book REFLECTION, my heroine, reporter, Whitney Steel is investigating an alleged human cloning project when she meets up with the hero, FBI Agent, Blake Neely, who's searching for his own answers.

Everything from this point on focuses on Blake and Whitney discovering whether or not the villain has produced the world's first cloned human. They don't set out to fall in love. The relationship between the hero and heroine develops because of the suspense.

The story evolved after Clonaid (a company founded by the religious sect called the Raelians which views cloning as the first step in achieving immortality) announced the birth of Eve, the “first human clone” in 2002 using the similar technique to clone, Dolly the Sheep. About 160 nations in the world have yet to outlaw the birth of human clones and others are allowing the creation of human clones as long as they are not put into a woman’s womb (how do we know they aren't implanted?), add a kick-ass investigative reporter, a sexy FBI agent, and thus, REFLECTION was born.

You can find REFLECTION in eBook at MuseItUp Publishing, Amazon and coming soon to Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and other fine retailers. Coming to paperback in late February.

BLURB

Florida investigative reporter, Whitney Steel, has lived in the shadow of her legendary father long enough. To prove herself she needs to find the “Big” story.

She found it.

Now it may kill her.

After Whitney receives a lead pointing to the world's first cloned human, now a small child, she vows to unravel the truth. However, sifting through the facts proves to have dangerous results, including death threats and murder.

When Whitney is nearly killed, but is saved by undercover FBI Special Agent, Blake Neely, he refuses to let her get in the way of his own objective—at least not right away.

Caught in a lethal game between a billionaire obsessed with genetic perfection, his hit man’s thirst for retribution, and a Colombian drug lord fresh out of prison determined to make Blake pay for his twin brother’s death over a decade ago...

Can they save an innocent child before it’s too late?

Faced with tough choices, with deadly consequences for many—Whitney soon realizes that sometimes a story becomes more than just a story.

BOOK TRAILER

EXCERPT

Mason Bailey gulped down his third Glenlivet. “I didn’t kill her.”

How many times had Whitney Steel heard those words? Dozens. But never from the mouth of a United States senator. For all she cared, the man could drink himself to Mars, but not until she got what she’d come for. An exclusive.

Under the awning shading the Pink Flamingo Club’s patio, she took a sip of her lime daiquiri, and couldn’t help notice the way the mid-afternoon sunlight brutally magnified every line on Mason’s tanned face.

“Of all the reporters in Panama City, let alone Florida, why me? We cut our ties years ago.” And our losses, she wanted to say, but didn’t.

“I know I can trust you.” His gaze darted across the street then back to her. “Besides, we were married once. That should count for something.”

Whitney straightened. Anger coiled in the pit of her stomach. “Give me a break. For a year and a half, I thought we were married. Too bad your girlfriends didn’t know about our little legal arrangement.” Especially, your twenty something assistant.

“Damn it, Whitney. I didn’t ask you here to rehash our past.” He yanked a monogrammed handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed the sweat from his forehead. “I need your help. I know why Carmen Lacey was murdered.”

Her eyes widened. Now they were getting somewhere. “You have my full attention. Are we on the record?”

Mason shoved his empty glass aside. “Yes.”

Her heart thumped with anticipation. This story would be the topic du jour for months. Her ratings at WBNN-TV would soar, and finally her colleagues would take notice and treat her with the professional respect she deserved.

For the past twelve years, her colleagues said she’d had a free ride because of her father, an award winning war correspondent, and her ex-husband’s political connections. This time she’d prove them wrong.

She rummaged through her leather bag, placed her digital voice recorder on the table and gave the record button a firm push. “For the record, Senator Bailey, did you kill Carmen Lacey?”

“No.” He leaned back in the chair and loosened his pinstriped tie. “It’s true. I was the last person to see her alive. But there’s more to this than you think.”

Brown eyes that once set her heart hammering now conveyed a chilling, hollow look. Was it guilt? Desperation?

No. Fear.

Uneasiness slid down her spine. She stopped the recorder. “Mason, you’re scaring me. What the hell is going on? It’s been over three years since we last spoke. Then, out of the blue, you beg me to meet with you today. I know the police don’t believe you killed that woman.”

“But do you, Whitney? Do you believe I killed her? I need to know. It’s important.”

Stunned by the urgency in his voice, she answered carefully. “Of course not.

You’re many things, but you’re not a killer.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” He reached for his empty glass and tapped his chunky gold ring against the side.

Whitney turned the recorder on again.

“Carmen was a scientist working for a biotech company in Nevada. ShawBioGen. Heard of it?”

“Who hasn’t? They were one of the first to clone animals in the eighties. Caused quite a stir.

But I don't understand. What does that have to do with Carmen’s death?”

He opened his mouth to answer.

The large window behind them dividing the patio from the main restaurant exploded...

Trained as a legal assistant, Kim Cresswell has been a story-teller all her life but took many detours including; working for a private investigator, running a graphic design business, and teaching computer classes at a local business school. After becoming disabled with Fibromyalgia and Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome, Kim returned to her first love, writing.

For her, writing suspense fiction is an incredible adventure and she's surprised where the journey takes her. She's also an avid reader who enjoys playing computer games, ghost hunting and loves anything paranormal.

Kim has a few new novels in the works including the sequel to REFLECTION which will be released in late 2013.

Kim's Website 
Facebook Fan Page
Goodreads
Twitter

Cupid Reads Mind Over Matter by S.J. Clarke

Cupid Reads Mind Over Matter by S. J. Clarke

A mother faces her worst nightmare when she discovers her missing daughter is scheduled to die in mere days.

Excerpt:

Rebecca swallowed her shame, remembering what happened the last time they were in this room together, the day Dan left. No excuse justified their behavior. Not the two bottles of wine they shared, not the news that the rest of Dan's team were already packed up and gone, and certainly not her grief. Closing her eyes couldn't block the memory of the anger in that first kiss, or the desperation in what followed. Her lack of inhibition in those moments still tormented her, pushing her toward another drink every day since then.

Dan shook his head. He kept his expression neutral, but the clenched jaw gave him away.

“What are you doing here, Rebecca?” He kept his voice low and controlled.

Rebecca squared her shoulders and met his accusing stare. “Whatever it takes to get through each day without my daughter.” She walked over and grabbed the glass from his hand. “This has nothing to do with anything. You're here to help me find Bree, not to judge me.”

He looked at her and the pity on his face pushed her back to the wall.

About The Author

S. J. Clarke has published over fifty articles as a columnist and regular contributor for a variety of lifestyle and human interest websites. She is a grateful member of the Writers' Community of Durham Region, and proud to sit on the Board of Directors for The Ontario Writer's Conference.

Sandra also co-authored Touretties, a touching tribute featuring testimonials from patients and and their loved ones living with Tourettes.

Mind Over Matter, released in November, 2011 through MuseItUp Publishing, is her first novel.

For more information visit S.J. Clarke on the web:

Website

Facebook,

Mind Over Matter on Facebook,
Twitter

Goodreads 

Buy Links

MuseItUpPublishing
amazon.ca

Amazon.com

Chapters.ca 

Barnes and Noble

Cupid Reads Traps by Larion Wills

Traps, suspense with romance

Traps by Larion Wills

     Returning from war, Ward wanted as little to do with people as possible and retreated to the forest. As a park ranger in the 70s, he tolerated the people while protecting the animals. Avoiding people as much as possible, he wanted to take pictures, write a book on the wild life, and stop the poachers. Having his publisher saddled him with a woman to retake the pictures he spends months on was an insult. Having her save his life when he fell into a trap set by the poacher was embarrassing, especially when he fell for her harder than he’d fallen into that trap. Ward wanted to stop the poacher; the poacher wanted to kill him, and Callie was caught in the middle. Little did the poacher know, she was as capable of fighting back as Ward and a private war started.

Excerpt:

“Is it against the law to trap with those?” she asked.

“It is here,” he said darkly.  “Damn poachers!”

She wasn’t sure if he meant it was against the law because he was there or because it was against the law in a federal park. She decided not to ask for clarification.  “I take it from your tone of voice you aren’t referring to the occasional deer out of season.”

“I’m not.”

 “Are many endangered species lost this way?”

“Yes.”  He turned and walked off again. 

Thinking he was too mad to give her more than the shortest of answers, she followed and received a surprise when he started talking.

“When the trappers started in this valley, it was teeming with otter, beaver, mink, and fox, anything with a pretty fur. Their numbers have dwindled to what you can count on your fingers. The same assholes poach bear primarily, cut out one small part of their guts, the gallbladder, leave the rest to rot. Other assholes powder the gall to sell as an aphrodisiac, both for money with total disregard to the fact they’re driving them into extinction.  A single gall will be worth hundreds of dollars in the right market. ” 

Callie made no comment, watching as he veered off, climbing up the bank to a tangle of logs left by some long ago flood. One hand went up to hold the lens he carried for her inside his shirt from sliding when he ducked beneath a log.  His knitted cap brushed the log and started a cascade of snow. 

Callie had an unobstructed view of him reaching up to brush the snow off he as stumbled slightly and the log above him fell.

For a moment, Callie couldn’t comprehend what had happened.  One second he was there; the next he was gone from sight, under a log and snow falling from the surrounding brush and trees dislodged when the log fell.  He was buried.

She took a step forward and tripped on the ski she forgot she had attached to her foot.  Kicking off both skies, she ran, floundering several times to her knees in the snow.  When she reached the log, it wouldn’t move.  She dug and found his head, buried face down in the snow, and he was unconscious, not breathing.

The log had his arms pinned under him, and the weight of it was close enough to his neck he couldn’t lift his head free of the snow even if he hadn’t been knocked out.  He was suffocating, and she couldn’t turn his head far enough to free his face.  Nor could she turn it far enough to give him mouth to mouth to start him breathing again.

She put his cap under his face to keep his mouth and nose free of the snow and scrambled over the log.  Reaching under it to press on his ribs in an awkward attempt at resuscitation, she accomplished nothing.  The log was too wide to reach high enough to force air out of his lungs, and his backpack was in the way. She could see why the log wouldn’t roll on down the hill over him.  His pack held it.  She emptied the pack ruthlessly, splitting open the bottom with the knife from his belt.  Indifferent to the cost of the contents, she tossed everything out of the way, scrambled back over the log to his head and pushed with her shoulder.  The log slid to his hips.  The weight off his lungs might have enabled him to draw in air, but the snow in his mouth and nose kept him from breathing freely.

She straddled him, working her arms under him to jerk her fists up into his diaphragm.  Water from melted snow and snow crystals sprayed from his nostrils and lips.  He still didn’t breath.

Changing positions again, she moved back to his head.  His arms could be broken, and moving them could maim him. She had to move them, pulling them above his head to draw air into his lungs.  She knew he could have broken ribs and pressing on them to force air out, clearing the passages more, could also drive jagged bone edges into his lungs.  With no other choice, she pressed.  Press on his lungs; drive the air out.  Pull up his arms; draw air in.  She could be killing him by doing it, but he would die if she didn’t.

Fear and panic didn’t hit her until he had coughed and sputtered his way back to breathing.  She sat with her hands in fists on her knees, staring down at him.  “Damn you,” she told him.  “I don’t want to feel.”

Her voice choked, and her eyes filled with tears.  Her body shook while she pulled in deep breaths catching in sobs. She wouldn’t feel.  Any emotion was a hole in the dyke, letting others flood through.  She wouldn’t allow it.  She hadn’t for three years, and she wouldn’t again.

She had the dyke repaired when he began to stir back to consciousness.  She had to get that log off him, and the job wasn’t going to be easy.  One end was hung up against a standing tree.  The log wasn’t going to roll or slide any further.

Buy Link Muse It Up Publishing Bookstore 

Author Website

   

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