12.02.2014

All About Heroes Interview With Diana Nixon

I'd like to welcome author Diana Nixon to Suspense, She Writes. Diana is a bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romances. Her novel In Your Eyes is scheduled for release December 16, 2014. 





11.23.2014

Dear Indie Author, Don't Be THAT Author

Dear Indie Author

Don’t be that author. You know the one, the author that makes the rest of us look...well, not so good. That one author to which critics compare all other indie authors.

There is a low opinion of indie authors among certain sectors of the reading community. One blogger’s opinion was so harsh it made me cringe. The stigma of self-publishing seems to be lifting as more and more authors choose to self-publish, even authors who have traditionally published with a big 5 New York press. The publishing industry as a whole is morphing and changing its publishing and marketing philosophy, and it’s hard to keep up with all the developments. It’s an exciting time to be an author.

I’m an indie author and make no apologies for it. My loyalty is to my author brand, not to any one publisher’s catalog. I’ve been published by four different small publishers and have a contract with a top tier, non-big five publisher. Yet recently I decided to self-publish. Why? To be blunt, I’ve practically done all the marketing and promotion for my published releases myself. If I’m doing most of the work, I might as well keep most of the royalties.

11.19.2014

All About Heroes Interview With Joan Curtis

I'd like to welcome fellow author, Joan Curtis, to Suspense, She Writes. Joan has just released a new mystery titled The Clock Strikes Midnight.



Available for Pre-Sale at Amazon
and

Janie Knox wants nothing more than to live her life quietly in Savannah, Georgia and never return to her hometown of Atlanta. At age 17, a week after a jury convicted her stepfather of killing her mother, she packed all her worldly possessions in a single duffle bag, hopped on a bus, and vowed never to return. But, when she learns that she’s got three months to live, she journeys back home to finish what she couldn’t do when she left--kill her stepfather.

As the clock ticks away, Janie’s uses the last days of her life to right the wrongs that have haunted her for 20 years. She faces more than she bargained for when she discovers her sister’s life in shambles. Meanwhile her stepfather, recently released from prison, blackmails the sisters and plots to extract millions from the state in retribution.

The Clock Strikes Midnight is a race against time in a quest for revenge and atonement. This is a story about unleashing the hidden truths that haunt a quiet Southern family.

Joan is hosting a launch party for The Clock Strikes Midnight on November 25th from 3pm to 5pm EST on Facebook.


CLICK READ MORE TO SEE ALL ABOUT HEROES INTERVIEW 


10.10.2014

#NewRelease - Twin Rivers by Denise Moncrief


Available from The Wild Rose Press

Country music star, Summer Jackson, left fame and fortune behind in Las Vegas one fateful night—the night an anonymous stranger checked her in to rehab—the same night her partner Houston Pierce was murdered. Living out of the spotlight as Johanna Caldwell should be easier, except her fractured heart and her infamous past won’t allow her any rest.

When Johanna arrives at Twin Rivers looking for a job, Austin Pierce remembers her as Summer Jackson, the woman he’s always blamed her for causing his brother’s death. Pierce hires the woman who calls herself Johanna, but her presence rekindles his feelings of resentment toward the woman he knew as Summer Jackson.

Will a new threat expose their secrets and endanger their future before they have a chance to forgive each other and build a new life together?

Excerpt:

Johanna wanted a better life for Jake than she’d had—much better. Paula might not like her living so close to Durango, but then what could she do about it? If Paula wanted Jake back, she would have to fight Johanna for him. She didn’t know all the legal ramifications, but she knew it would look as if Paula had deserted him. After all this time, it wouldn’t be good for the boy to live with a stranger, even if Paula was his real mother.

Fall was approaching fast. The first snowfall of the year could descend on southwestern Colorado any day, turning the green leaves of aspen trees to golden. It was time to send Jake’s mother another note, something Johanna did two or three times a year. She wouldn’t ask for money. Hadn’t had to ask for any since she hired on at Twin Rivers Ranch. The ranch provided her with a room and meals as part of her employment. It wasn’t the best job she’d ever had, but she wouldn’t be staying here longer than a year anyway. Moving frequently was part of her agreement with Jake’s mother. She’d held eight jobs in eleven years. Sometimes she went without work. Those hard times where when she had needed Paula’s financial assistance.

She pushed a wayward tendril of hair out of her face and grabbed another stack of soiled dishes. A thump thump interrupted her thoughts. Heavy boots pounded wood flooring. Jeff Corbin barged into the kitchen in his usual rough manner. “Make me a sandwich.”

“Make it yourself.”

He yanked the refrigerator door open. “You’re in a nasty mood.”

“I was in a good mood until you walked into the room,” she muttered, shoving the last of the lunch plates into the industrial-sized dishwasher.

Jeff pulled out a loaf of bread and dropped it onto the counter. He prepared himself a messy, meat-heavy sandwich, loaded with an extra large dollop of full calorie mayonnaise, and wiped his hands on his pants. An uncharacteristically sloppy move for Jeff—he was picky to the point of being absurd. His fussiness was a startling contradiction to his overall crudity. He crammed the sandwich into his mouth, devouring it in four bites, then burped and sauntered toward the swinging kitchen door.

“Where are you going?” she snapped at his departing back.

“Got work to do.” He turned and glared at her before wiping his large paw across his foul mouth.

Her ire rose up from the tips of her toes. As if I don’t have work to do. The pig! “Clean up your mess.”

“That’s your job.”

“I just finished cleaning the kitchen… And I’m not your maid!”

“Well, actually…” Was the jerk really going to suggest that she was?

She threw the dishtowel on the counter. “I’m tired of this.” The cloth didn’t make the racket she wished it had. She wanted to throw something heavy that would wipe the smirk clean off his handsome face. How could someone so good-looking be so obnoxious?

“Are you gonna go tattle to the boss again?” He had the maturity of a bully on the elementary school playground.
Telling the boss was exactly what she had in mind. He had deflated her intentions with one prick of his verbal needle. She could see the nasty wheels in Jeff’s nasty mind turning and churning, ready to spit something rude up from the depths of his crude soul.

“Can I ask you something?” A depraved glint danced in his gray eyes.

“What?” she responded despite her misgivings.

“You’re not really Jake’s aunt, are you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Jeff was right. Jake wasn’t a blood relation of hers, but after all this time, Jake was her son—genetics notwithstanding.

“Is he your son?”

“My son? I don’t…” She stopped. She couldn’t lie. Not about that. Not even to this devil in boot cut jeans.

“I wonder…”

She growled at him, daring him to further her discomfort. The conversation had to end before the jerk guessed too much.

“I’ve always thought you looked familiar for some reason. Are you hiding something, Johanna? What would you tell Sheriff Cantrell if he asked you the same questions? Are you a axe murderer or something?”

Her insides quaked at the thought of someone questioning her right to raise Jake. Or doing a background check on her. She tried hard to hide her reaction, but she was sure Jeff had sensed her apprehension. “Get out of here.” Her hand gravitated toward the drawer where the butcher knives rested in their lined cubbies.

“Hit a nerve?”

She pulled her wayward hand back from the knife drawer. “Jake’s relationship to me is none of your business,” she blurted. A bad comeback—very bad. Too defensive. Admitting nothing, but telling much.

A deep rumble from behind her made her jump. “What’s going on in here?”

“Mr. Pierce—” She shifted from one foot to the other. 
“Nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing to me.” A question darted in his dark eyes.

She had to tell him something or he’d keep asking questions. “Jeff messed up the kitchen after I cleaned up...again.”

The boss didn’t look as if he believed that was her real complaint. She tightened her mouth, pushing down the truth hard and fast.

Jeff snickered. “She’s touchy today.”

“Haven’t you got work to do?” Mr. Pierce snapped as if Jeff had used his last ounce of patience.

It wasn’t a good thing to get the boss riled. And it appeared they had irritated Mr. Pierce with their bickering once again. Johanna glared at Jeff. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

9.25.2014

#NewRelease - Laurel Heights by Denise Moncrief



Paranormal Romantic Suspense

                          

Murder, revenge, and nightmares.

A dark cloud of deceit hovers over her family tree...

Left an estate by an aunt she’s never met, Laurel Standridge takes possession of Laurel Heights, hoping it will be the safe haven she needs to recuperate from her ill-fated relationship with Rand Peterson. Secrets long buried rise to the surface when her cousin James is murdered and dumped on the highway just outside the gates of Laurel Heights.

Her past trails her to the mountains of Arkansas...

Caught in an obligation Chase Peterson feels he cannot ignore, he agrees to help his brother Rand take back the property he believes Laurel stole from him, but Chase remains at Laurel Heights after he discovers Laurel took nothing of Rand’s away with her except nightmares, fading bruises, and a broken rib.

Unexplained disturbances shatter her hopes of a normal life...

Are the strange bumps, thumps, and bangs reverberating through the night caused by the murderer of Laurel’s cousin James, someone Rand has sent to exact his revenge, or a disturbed soul existing in another dimension, trying to communicate with the living? Drawn together by the intrigue surrounding Laurel Heights, Chase and Laurel become hopelessly entangled in a relationship that goes deeper than lust. Can their love survive the haunting of Laurel Heights?


Excerpt


Since Laurel had moved into her aunt’s house, she hadn’t fallen asleep once without pharmaceutical help. The sleeping aid usually lulled her into lullaby land, but the drug seldom got her through the night without a nightmare. She was quickly running out of the prescription and would have to resort to over-the-counter antihistamines soon. The doctor she had seen in Fairview wouldn’t renew her prescription. He hadn’t wanted to prescribe it anyway. She wouldn’t be going back to him.

She lay still beneath her comforter, listening to the unusual sounds coming from the lower floor. The house made a lot of noises, especially at night. She sucked in a ragged breath when it made a few more. Thuds and bumps sounded like footfalls. Was someone in the house or was she being paranoid? Every shadow reminded her of Rand. He was in prison and would be incarcerated for a very long time, probably the rest of his life, but he could easily send one of his loyal subordinates to find her.

She wrapped her fingers around the grip of the baseball bat she kept next to her bed and hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. Confronting an intruder with a hollow piece of aluminum seemed like a lame defense. She had been considering purchasing a gun, but hadn’t done so yet. Maybe it was time. She’d have to buy one under the radar because she didn’t want anyone doing a background check on her. Acquiring a shotgun shouldn’t be too hard. It seemed everyone in Arkansas owned a firearm of some sort.

She threw off the comforter, rose from the bed, slipped across the room with the bat over her shoulder, and opened the door to peer down the hallway toward the front stairs. Nothing moved. The house was quiet. Maybe a little too quiet. Only moments before, a symphony of strange noises had disturbed the night. It was as if opening her bedroom door had turned off the sound.

She stared at the back stairs directly across from her bedroom and considered going down to the first floor to check the door locks, but nixed the idea. Locked doors wouldn’t keep someone out of the house if they really wanted to get in. Better to barricade herself in her bedroom and keep the bat close by. She slammed the door shut.

No moonlight filtered through the flimsy fabric covering the window. The moon hid behind a thick cloud cover. She tugged at the curtains, pulling them tighter to keep out the night. Before she stepped away, she caught a glimpse of something not quite right. Peeking between the curtain panels, she stared across the backyard. On the other side of the grimy window, a dim light flitted back and forth inside the detached garage.

She shivered with apprehension. The structure was derelict, unlike her garage in California. The four-car garage had been attached to Rand’s half million-dollar house. They had been living in the two-story, five-bedroom house for at least a year, but the place had never seemed like home to Laurel. Everything belonged to Rand. By the end of their disastrous relationship, he had treated her like a possession as well. Actually, maybe he had all along.

Comparing her life then to her life now brought up memories of the beating Rand had given her and his attempt to attack her again. If Foster hadn’t shown up when he did, she’d probably be dead.

She glanced at the clock beside her bed. It was nearly four in the morning, the darkest hour of the night. Who could possibly be snooping around her place in the dark? Who would be in her garage at any hour? She contemplated calling the local Sheriff’s Office, but decided against it. She didn’t want cops involved in her personal business. No. She would find out who was messing around her property without involving local law enforcement. Eventually the intruder would show himself, and she would be ready for him.


Suspense, She Writes

Where the road to happily ever after takes a suspenseful detour. Fast paced twists and turns that keep you turning the pages. Romantic happily ever after moments that take your breath away. Paranormal romantic suspense that keeps you on the edge of your seat.

Want to know a little bit more about Denise? She's a Southern girl who has lived in Louisiana all her life, and yes, she has a drawl. She has a wonderful husband and two incredible children, who not only endure her writing moods, but also encourage her to indulge her writing passion. Besides writing romantic suspense, she enjoys traveling, reading, and scrapbooking.

Accounting is a skill she has learned to earn a little money to support her writing habit. She wrote her first story when she was a teen, seventeen handwritten pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she had read. She's been writing off and on ever since, and with more than a few full-length manuscripts already completed, she has no desire to slow down.

You can connect with Denise at
a Rafflecopter giveaway

8.31.2014

Ten Albums That Have Affected Me

My friend Heidi Senesac tagged me on Facebook. She challenged me to list eleven albums that have affected me in some way. They don't need to be the "right" albums or great works of musicianship. So I decided to share my list here on Suspense, She Writes.

1. Dreamboat Annie - Heart
2. Cry Like a Rainstorm, Howl Like the Wind - Linda Ronstadt
3. Tapestry - Carole King
4. Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson
5. Juice - Juice Newton
6. Crimes of Passion - Pat 
Benatar 
7. Shooting Straight In the Dark - Mary Chapin Carpenter 
8. Aces - Suzy Boggus 
9. The Best Damn Thing - Avril Lavigne 
10. The Spirit Room - Michelle Branch 
11. Lying To the Moon - Matraca Berg 

Yep, I chose all female artists, because I love to sing and these ladies all gave me something to sing along with. 

One of the first concerts I attended was Heart. I wanted to sing like Ann Wilson. Well, you know that wasn't going to happen, so I settled for having big hair like hers. Wanna she a picture of that? Okay, here it is...

Just Married!

Okay, maybe I didn't quite achieve Ann's big hair either, but still...that hair is pretty big. :)




8.26.2014

Interview With a Ghost With Paranormal Investigator Mitchell Grayson

PLEASE NOTE: This post portrays a fictional character and a fictional ghost. All names, places, and events are purely the imagination of the author and the post is meant for entertainment purposes only.


Author: Today, I want to welcome Lt. Mitchell Grayson to Suspense, She Writes. Lt. Grayson is not only an investigator with the Sheriff’s department in Hill County, Arkansas, but also one of the founders of the North Central Arkansas Paranormal Society. Welcome, Lt. Grayson.

Grayson: Please, call me Gray.

Author: Okay, Gray. *author smiles because Gray is handsome* So first tell us how you became a ghost hunter.

Gray: Please, don’t call us ghost hunters. *grins at author despite rebuking her* We prefer the term paranormal investigators. The group was organized when our three founders—Josh McCord, Ashley Rivers, and I—first encountered paranormal activity on Halloween night in an old house in Hill County.

Author: That was quite a few years ago now, wasn’t it?

Gray: Oh, yeah. We were young. Teenagers really, when the incident occurred.

Author: Now, come on, Gray, confess. You were breaking and entering, weren’t you?

Gray: *grins* Yes, we were. But...that was before I swore to uphold the law.

Author: So...the interview you’re going to tell us about today actually was recorded just a few months ago.

Gray: Just last spring, actually. I became...acquainted with the new owner of an old house reputed to be haunted. The owner of Laurel Heights asked for our help with her...paranormal problem.

Author: What kind of problems was she having?

Gray: It started with strange noises in the middle of the night, progressed to cold spots and odd physical sensations, and ended up with unexplainable environmental disturbances and finally...a manifestation of Celeste Standridge’s ghost.

Author: *gets excited and doesn’t bother to hide it* Then you’ve seen the ghost of Celeste Standridge?

Gray: No, I have not. However, the owner of the house has had a close encounter with her.

Author: *author deflates a little* But you’ve had your own experience at Laurel Heights, haven’t you?

*Gray nods*

Author: So tell us about what happened to you?

Gray: The owner had given us permission to do a night investigation in her garage when she was out of town. Josh McCord and I entered the building just after midnight and began calling out whatever presence might be lingering in the garage.

Author: How did you do that?

Gray: We used a recording device that registers sounds at lower or higher decibels than are usually heard by the average human ear and began asking a predetermined set of questions designed to engage with whatever entities might be present.

Author: You used a digital voice recorder?

Gray: Yes, for recording electronic voice phenomena. On that night... Whatever was loose in the room lifted from the floor and swirled around us. A piece of...something...I don’t know what...hit Josh in the back of the head. He still has a scar from that. Everything started happening when I asked a particular question. We couldn’t get out of there soon enough, but as I was trying to leave it was as if I was stuck halfway in and halfway out of the garage, and there was no reason for that. It should have been easy to get away...but it wasn’t.

Author: What question started it all?

Gray: I asked if whoever was in the garage was angry that the new owner had moved into Laurel Heights. Thanks when everything started going...crazy.

Author: And did you capture the incident on the device?

Gray: *smiles* Wanna hear it?

Author: Yes, you know I do.

*Gray places recorder on tabletop and presses play button*

Gray’s voice on the recorder: “Is there anyone here?”

*loud static follows and Gray rushes to lower the volume*

Gray’s voice on the recorder: “What’s your name?”

*the pitch and rhythm of the static changes, a cadence that sounds like a two-syllable word repeats over and over*

*Gray pauses the machine*

Gray: What does that sound like to you?

Author: I don’t know. It’s kind of indistinct. Might be a word spoken over and over again. With an E on the end.

Gray: That’s what Lau...the owner of the house thought.

*Gray pushes the play button.*

Gray’s voice on the recorder: Are you angry that...*skip in the playback as if Gray has erased the owner’s name from the tape* ...has moved into the house?

*chant changes, distinct and unmistakable.*

Disembodied voice: Tell Laurel... My baby. Tell Laurel... My baby.

*Gray jabs play button, stopping the feedback.*

Gray: That was when everything went crazy. Whatever was in the garage that wasn’t heavy or tied down lifted up and swirled around us. *Gray clears his throat.* Freakiest thing I’ve ever lived through.

Author: Did the owner of the house understand the message Celeste was trying to tell her?

Gray: Well...at first, we weren’t sure the message was from Celeste or meant for...the owner, but...events since then have led us to believe the disembodied voice on the recording is in fact Celeste Standridge.

Author: And what was she trying to communicate to...the owner of Laurel Heights?

Gray: *shifting uncomfortably in his seat* I’m not at liberty to divulge that information. Part of an on-going...um...criminal investigation.

Author: Ah, so that’s where you other role in this investigation comes into play.

*Gray smiles*

*Author thinks Gray has a sexy smile*

Author: So would you go back to Laurel Heights and investigate again?

Gray: *with a huge grin* You bet I would, and one day when things...settle down a bit, Josh and I will go back.

Author: Will you let us know if you do and what you discover?

Gray: Of course.

Author: Thank you so much for joining us today on Suspense, She Writes.

Gray: Thanks for having me.

*Author blushes because she wouldn’t mind having him...um...getting to know him better*

READERS: If you enjoyed this bit of insight into the character of Lt. Mitchell Grayson and would like to know more of the story of Laurel Heights, pre-orders of Book One of the Haunted Hearts Series are now available on Amazon at this link.




8.22.2014

Ten Places That Have Inspired My Writing

One of my favorite things to do is travel, and in my journeys I often visit places that inspire me. Sometimes the spot will set a scene or sometimes it might be the inspiration for the beginning chapter of a book. Each of the pictures below have inspired either an already published work or a book I plan to write in the near future. Just a small sample of places that inspire me...

Capilano Suspension Bridge - Vancouver, British Columbia


French Quarter - New Orleans, Louisiana


Private Lake - Near Port Angeles, Washington


Miegs Falls - Smoky Mountain National Park


Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad - Durango, Colorado




Garden District - New Orleans, Louisiana


Old Towne Square - Albuquerque, New Mexico




Hamilton House - Hot Springs, Arkansas


Gulf of Mexico - Florida Panhandle


River Walk - San Antonio, Texas



Please check out my published works at:






You might also enjoy my free short story, Ghost In the Garden, available here:

8.21.2014

New Release - Bridge of Hope by Lisa J Hobman



Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Contemporary
Release Date: August 21, 2014


Love is like a snowflake; beautiful but fleeting in its presence…

I’ve been in love. But I’ve also been lied to, betrayed by those closest to me and I’ve suffered loss. Sadly it’s those last three things that stick with me the most. The only real constants in my life are music, Angus my dog and Rhiannon; my guitar.

But things changed when she walked into my place of work. All blue eyes, curves and a warmth that could melt even my hardened heart. I was taken over by feelings that I didn’t expect so soon. Guilt plagued me and I took my anger out on her.

On Mallory.

But I fell fast and hard and there was nothing I could do to stop it. When she too became the victim of heartbreak I was the only one who understood her pain but I was the last person she wanted help from.
Would I ever convince her that we could be friends? And would I ever accept that she couldn’t love me back?


About Lisa J Hobman
Lisa is a happily married Mum of one with two crazy dogs.  She especially enjoys being creative; has worked as a singer and now runs her own little craft business where she makes hanging signs and decorations for the home. Lisa and her family recently relocated from Yorkshire, England to their beloved Scotland; a place of happy holidays and memories for them. 

Writing has always been something Lisa has enjoyed, although in the past it has centered on poetry and song lyrics.  The story in her debut novel has been building in her mind for a long while but until the relocation, she never had the time to put it down in black and white; working full time as a High School Science Learning Mentor and studying swallowed up any spare time she had.  Making the move north of the border has given Lisa the opportunity to spread her wings and fulfill her dream.  Writing is now a deep passion and she has enjoyed every minute of working towards being published.  Novels two and three are works in progress so watch this space!


How to contact Lisa J Hobman:



8.16.2014

How an Accountant Becomes a Writer

Seriously? Do I look like an accountant?
How does an accountant become a writer? Well, I never intended to be an accountant. When I was in high school, I never dreamed I’d go to college. It seemed like something my lower middle class family wouldn’t be able to afford. In high school, I took courses with the plan to be an executive secretary. When my father told me he could manage to send me to college only months before I graduated high school, I was stunned. I certainly had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.

A general business degree seemed like the closest curriculum to being a secretary, so I enrolled and listed my major as general business. Of all the concentrations in general business, accounting made the most sense to me. At its basic level, it was simple. Asset = Liabilities + Equity. You couldn’t go wrong with a balanced equation like that. Okay, well, trust me, accounting isn’t always that simple. Sometimes we accountants have to get...creative. Accounting seems like an analytical, left-brain sort of thing to do, doesn’t it? One of my friends from high school told me at our ten-year reunion that she always knew I’d do something like accounting because I was so good in math. Uh, no. I wasn’t.

When I graduated from college with an accounting degree, I said I would be the most atypical accountant there ever was. Well, I'm not, but I might be coming pretty close.

I think there’s always been a deep well of inclination inside me to be something else, some more. I’ve always had the urge to creatively express myself. When I was in high school, my friend Brenda and I read every Harlequin romance we could get our hands on. Those romances inspired me. The ah-ha moments got to me every time. You know, those moments when the hero and heroine realize they love each other and can’t live without one another. That moment. Tugged at my heartstrings. I wanted to write something like that. So I wrote my first romance when I was in high school. Seventeen pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip off of the last romance I’d read. I don’t even have that story any longer. Just as well. It sucked.

When I was in my twenties, I tried writing songs. I can tell you right now that my lyrics never had the depth or complexity that my daughter’s lyrics do. She amazes me. Truth is, I was never meant to be a songwriter. Most of what I wrote will never see the light of day, but there was one song I thought was pretty good. I’ll share the lyrics with you at the end of this post. Once again, I tried to write a novel because I’d read so many Robert Ludlum books that the fast-paced, suspense-filled adventure with a hint of romance captured my imagination. At about the fourth chapter, I realized I lacked the skills to write such a novel and my suspense manuscript digressed into...well, a comedy. A spoof on the action adventure genre. I gave it up, fearing my efforts lacked credibility.

In my thirties, I was too busy being a part time accountant and a full time wife and mommy to do much of anything else. But then, I hit my forties and all that creativity that I had suppressed and the need to express myself just sort of burst in my mind. You see, I had this daydreaming habit. That kind of habit can be a bit...unhealthy if it goes too far. Thankfully, before it became a deep psychological problem, I turned all that daydreaming into a dream. I remembered the writing I had done when I was younger and realized that was a perfect outlet for my daydreams.

Now I call those dreams inspiration and don’t feel quite so guilty about spending my thoughtful times indulging in them. I spent a decade churning out one manuscript after another. I will always have something on my hard drive to edit and polish for the purpose of publication. And I keep coming up with new ideas. I’ll never run out stories. Not in this lifetime. So here I am with six books available for purchase and three more to come by the end of 2014. Seven more planned for 2015. Nope, I don’t plan to stop living the writing dream.

And that’s how an accountant becomes a writer.

Here’s the lyrics to that song I promised you. It’s call Cold December Morning. PS—When I wrote it, it wasn’t December. It was March. And no one has ever left me like that. I’ve been married to the love of my life for thirty plus years. So, no, this isn’t about my life and I don’t know where it came from.

Cold December Morning

Whisper to me softly
the things I want to hear.
Don’t tell me that you’re leaving.
It’s the thing that I most fear.
Don’t tell me that our love is cold
and gray just like the dawn.
On a cold December morning,
don’t say our love is gone.

Can you tell me truly
our love has been a lie?
Do you want to know the answer?
Do you even wonder why?
I keep clinging to the hope
our love’s not made of stone.
On a cold December morning.
don’t say our love is gone

Your bags are packed and ready.
They’re waiting in the hall.
Can you pass the moments of our life
still hanging on the wall?
Can you turn your back on all we had
and all that’s meant to be?
On a cold December morning,
will you come back to me?


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...