Seems like summer took forever to get here! Storms, cold fronts, more storms… Usually, I’m chomping at the bit mid-April to dip my toes in the pool. This year, it was May 30th—and just 78 degrees.  I could only take 20 minutes before I broke out in hives (cold urticaria). But last night—87 degrees! I swam (er, bobbed) around the pool on a noodle and just let the water take all my aches and worries away.

Not everyone has the luxury of a pool in the yard. So my questions to you are…

Do you swim in a pool, lake, sea? Do you swim at all?
Or is there another summer pastime you enjoy?

And while you’re here, take a look at the cover to Book 2 of the Night Fall series. I hope to have it ready for you to download next week!

Over the years, I’ve looked for love in lots of the wrong places.

I’ve met future ex-boyfriends in classes, bars, at work, through friends, at conferences and even on the freeway. Long story, but he’ll always be remembered as Mercedes Man.

Before I gave up the hunt a few years ago, I even had a brief fling with online dating. E-Harmony, match.com, Seniorfriendfinders (yep, I’m in that category, barely).

The strangest response was from someone I dated for a few months many years ago. From his online description, he sounded interesting. I wouldn’t have recognized anything from his picture. He was standing in a trout stream at the tip of South America with waders and a hat on, casting his fly rod.

It could have been anyone from Robert Redford in A River Runs Through It to bigfoot in Harry and the Hendersons.

But I’m game. Somebody who goes to Patagonia to fish has my kind of sense of adventure…although I’d really rather go to Argentina and tango.

We exchanged a few emails and I was gradually feeling as though I knew him. It was comfortable until he asked a question about the house I’d lived in.

Whoop, whoop, flashing lights and alarm bells. I remembered him…and I’d dumped him. He went on to marry a friend and now they’re divorced.

We shared a couple more of the “where are they now” emails, but we both knew this wasn’t a match made in heaven, or in exotic foreign countries.

I’ve taken myself out of the dating pool, probably permanently, but that hasn’t stopped interested parties.

Now I get proposals and “friends” from facebook. I wonder about all these guys who started with “I saw your picture…” Right. It’s not a glamour shot, it was taken at a friend’s birthday party several years ago.

When the facebook conversations starting popping up six or so years ago, I answered one or two from Florida and Texas (at least that’s where they said they were). After one “Hello, how are you” that, in the next communiqué turned into an invitation to spend my money and visit for Christmas, I unfriended and stopped responding to the requests. Delete, delete, delete.

It did give me a great idea for a murder mystery, though, that I’m going to write someday.

As a novelist, I’m curious who these guys are. I had a run of soldiers stationed overseas. Young guys who posed with their Humvees or guns or in the weight rooms, lifting. Big muscles straining against the camos or bare-chested showing off the tats.

A lot of them looked to be my daughter’s age.

Then I started getting into the officers’ ranks. Guys in dress uniforms with chests full of medals, standing in front of a class or speaking to what looked like the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Now the military has stepped down and I’m in the middle-aged civilian population. Guys on boats. Guys on yachts. Guys by airplanes. Guys on the beach. There was a friend request recently from a guy who’d gone to the hair stylist before he had his portfolio shoot.

His photo collage, all dated the same day, included a head and shoulders of him. A shot of him in a suit. A shot leaning against a deck rail with a sweater casually around his shoulders. A shot of him with his pant legs rolled up strolling on the beach. A shot of him at a small table on a deck with roses, wine, cheese and grapes. The kicker was one of him in a big chair reading, with HIS GLASSES ON.

Think he read “What Women Want?”

I’ve also moved overseas. The guys from Ukraine are in competition with the ones from England and Wales.

In truth, the age of social media is kind of creepy. Because I’m an author and need to use these sites to market my books, I’m visible on line.

But this is the wrong place to look for love.

*~*~*~*

Michele Drier was born in Santa Cruz and is a fifth generation Californian. She’s lived and worked all over the state, calling both Southern and Northern California home.  During her career in journalism—as a reporter and editor at daily newspapers—she won awards for producing investigative series.

SNAP: All That Jazz, Book Eight of The Kandesky Vampire Chronicles, was awarded second place by the Paranormal Romance Guild’s reviewers for best paranormal vampire book of 2014. The Kandesky Vampire Chronicles also won for best series in 2014.  The Kandesky Vampire Chronicles include SNAP: The World Unfolds, SNAP: New Talent, Plague: A Love Story, DANUBE: A Tale of Murder, SNAP: Love for Blood, SNAP: Happily Ever After?, SNAP: White Nights and SNAP: All That Jazz.  SNAP: I, Vampire, Book Nine in the Kandesky Vampire Chronicles is scheduled for publication in 2015.

She also writes the Amy Hobbes Newspaper mysteries, Edited for Death and Labeled for Death and Delta for Death, published May 2015.

Hey Everyone.

I’m Heather.  I am a reader.  I write a little too (mostly reviews) for the books I read.  I read a great deal actually, so when Delilah was looking for guest bloggers I figured I would share how I keep track of the books I read from Year to Year.

I have a blog where I record my reviews.  But I don’t review every book I read.   I am going to share one of my Dirty Little Secrets with you.  I read a lot of books over each year and I MEAN A LOT.  I read a book or two a day, and that is with a full teaching schedule and working on my dissertation.  TV holds no appeal to me so my nights are filled with books.

New books are read on the release day, and I need something to fill my time. Since I reread a lot my system is great.

Have you head of Pinterest?  Well if you haven’t, google it.  Open the APP and find the boards section.  Name the board 2015 books.  Then search for the book you read.  And Pin it!  Easy right.  What’s great is you can leave little comments to yourself about the book. A mini review in a way.

I like to go back and read my comments from book to book.  Its funny what views stay the same and which ones don’t.  Sometimes I read a book months before I review it, I can make notes there and then when its time to review it I have my thoughts handy.

When I read a book that isn’t in the Pinterest data base, I grab a picture from the internet and upload it.  Pinterest is a pretty easy app to work.

I also enjoy the ability to check and see if I read a book while on the go.  I rarely buy print books anymore, but sometimes my aunt or a cousin will ask me about a book and I can get to my thoughts easily.

There are a million ways to keep track of books, but this way is mine and it’s helpful for reviewing and scrapbooking.

Share you thoughts with me on twitter!!!!

https://twitter.com/Studygir_1
https://www.pinterest.com/hmn1/

Okay, I’m a purist. If a story isn’t factually accurate, it doesn’t fly with me – except maybe against the nearest wall. I can take a little fudging, especially when the actual facts aren’t known, but egregious transgressions against time and custom and known facts make me livid. That means I do a lot of research.

All too many times research means a lot of dry swotting in libraries (preferred) or on the internet (oftimes unreliable), but occasionally the gods smile and I get to go and do. Like in March of this year.

My dear friend Dr. Dirk Huyge, who was such a help when I was writing THE EGYPTIAN FILE, is Director of the Belgian Archaeological Mission to El Kab. We joked about setting a murder mystery in the dig house, which is reputed to be haunted by its builder, Somers Clarke. Not surprising, since his grave is in the courtyard. Then he asked me and The Husband to come visit, so we could actually see the dig house to make the book realistic.

Civilians are NEVER invited to stay at dig houses. To allow us to come, Dirk had to get permissions from the Ministry of Antiquities in Cairo and the Aswan Governate, which he did, so on a few weeks’ notice we were off to Egypt. (It will take a long time for our budget to recover, but we simply could not decline!)

Staying at the dig house was wonderful. The crew there were incredible. Scholars all, most with an alphabet soup of degrees after their names, they all but fell over themselves to answer my questions and suggest ideas. (Thank you, Stan Hendrickx, for coming up with the perfect murder weapon!) All this was heady stuff for a simple scribbler of novels whose only degree is a DHW with an HSD. (In case you didn’t know, that means Dallas HouseWife with a High School Diploma.)

We were given permission to go about on the dig site itself (a huge place as big as many, many soccer fields) and Dirk took a day to drive us to places back in the desert that tourists never get to see. One that sticks in my mind is a plain little stone building in the middle of nowhere, but which in ancient times sat on a way of sacred pilgrimage. Outside it looked like nothing, but inside was a nearly perfect jewel box of a temple to Amenhotep III, the paint still bright after three and a half thousand years. Another place we stopped that day was an enormous rock – also in the middle of nowhere – covered with rock art thousands of years old. Sadly, pieces of it had been chipped away, presumably for sale to unscrupulous buyers. There just isn’t enough money to protect these all Egypt’s national treasures, and there is a low class of humans who will steal their heritage and history to sell for a small amount of money.

After our all-too-short stay at the dig house was over, during which I actually started writing on A KILLING AT EL KAB, The Husband and I went to Luxor where we rented a luxury holiday flat on the West Bank from my beloved friend Jane Akshar (flatsinluxor.co.uk). Three bedrooms, two baths, lounge, dining room, kitchen (in which I made tea and nothing else) and a glorious balcony overlooking the Gurnah Hills, where Deir el Bahri and the Valley of the Kings are. We are not wealthy people, and I must tell you that all this cost just about the same per day as a standard hotel room in a mid-star hotel on the East Bank.

One of the benefits of traveling on your own is you can do exactly what you want. We spent days at the temples of Karnak and Luxor, most of a day in the Luxor Museum and several days just prowling the town. We did a sunset cruise on the Nile. We were fortunate enough to be invited to Jane’s birthday party, where her husband arranged Sufi dancers to entertain – not the famed Whirling Dervishes, but an esoteric and seldom-performed ancient war dance. We were the only non-residents of Luxor there and no one had ever seen this kind of performance. Since we’ve both toured the Valley of the Kings several times each, we didn’t go there, but spent most of a day at Hatshepsut’s temple Deir el Bahri, or Djeser Djeseru as it was known in ancient times. We had tea at the famed Winter Palace Hotel. Every Egyptian we met was wonderful, from the street vendors to the dig house staff to the museum staff.

Every bit of it counts as research, and it has all paid out. A KILLING AT EL KAB is going very well, so well I hope to be finished with it in a couple of months and have it out by the end of the year. I also believe in paying back; a quarter of the proceeds of this book will go to the restoration fund for the dig house. An architectural marvel, it is registered with the Ministry of Antiquities as a national monument and has been submitted to the World Monuments Fund for inclusion of the Watch List of Endangered Sites. I am proud to have been allowed to visit it.

(all photographs ©Janis Susan May Patterson 2015)

You’ve heard the term “gone country.” You’ve probably even heard the Alan Jackson song. This is what happens when city people fall in love with country living—backroads, crickets chirpin’, sweet tea on the porch swing living.

Recently I took a road trip, 2 days away from my family. No baseball, softball, dance, field trips, groomer’s visits. Just me, my piece of crap SUV and a prayer that I made it south without using my AAA card. I loved the drive through southern Pennsylvania (I live north) and found the lush greenery very inspiring. Then I hit the city.

At first, it was fun to see all the commerce and navigate the busy highways. I shopped in an actual mall that doesn’t only boast a shoe store, pharmacy and a Big K. I drank honest to goodness iced coffee that I didn’t make at home because there isn’t a Starbucks or a Dunkins within 2 hours.

Then I drove around for hours, just filling my little country soul with experience. This includes driving experience. I can avoid a deer running full-tilt across a dirt road, but jumping five lanes is scary as hell. But I did it!

All of these moments are everyday for a lot of people, but not me. And it wasn’t long before the charm wore off. Pretty soon I was hoping to see that deer. Or miles of open road. No car horns or long lines at checkouts.

I missed my world. I’d gone city and wanted my country back! (insert ugly cry) So I texted my hubby and said I wanted to come home. His response? LOL then come home. He’d taken the kids fishing and rock climbing. He was grilling chicken and they were planning a bonfire with s’mores.

So how could I resist? I packed up and set out for home after just one night. From my trip I learned that I’m a country girl at heart. Visiting the city had given me a new take on the dull things I take for granted. Now that I’m refreshed and inspired by my home settings again, I’m in the mood to write more cowboys and hardworking men.

Here’s one example. Meet Ty, hot cowboy on the Boot Knockers Ranch. If you don’t know this series, you’re in for a ride. This ain’t your daddy’s ranch…

It’ll take more than ropes and whips for this cowboy to keep his bratty woman in line.

The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 4

At twenty-three, Bree Roberts is ready to sow some wild oats. The perfect place to start? The neighboring spread—The Boot Knockers Ranch, where twenty smokin’ hot cowboys deliver sexual therapy to women. The problem? The entry fee is more than she’s made in a lifetime.

Only wanting to explore, she figures her tanned, toned legs will be her ticket to ride. Except Ty keeps kicking her off their land. Then she begins to suspect the reason why. He likes her.

If Ty spots that little vixen wrapped around one of his cowboys one more time, he’s going to throw her over his knee. Trouble is, she’d like it. Catching her participating in the ranch’s notorious, semi-clad Cornhole tournament is one thing, but when he finds her under their resident Dom’s whip, enough is enough.

Ty won’t throw a naked woman out of his bed, namely one who deserves a spanking, but showing Bree the rewards of sex mixed with a little emotion leads to trails neither of them intended to tread.

Warning: Contains a spitfire cowgirl who excels at breaking the rules, and a cowboy who lays down the law—and a firm hand on her ass cheek.

Excerpt of Ropin’ Hearts

Ty started dragging her away. She dug in her bootheels.

“If you don’t walk away with me normal, I’ll pick you up and throw you over my shoulder, Miss Roberts.”

Ice filled her veins. He knew her. How? Was there a wanted poster on the wall somewhere? This man saw dozens of women a week—surely he wouldn’t remember her face after visiting her ranch.

“Let go of me!”

“I don’t think so, sugar tits. You’re trespassing. Wonder what Daddy would think of you down here getting corrupted.” Read the rest of this entry »

Today, I was supposed to post a blog from an author about one of my favorite subjects, Egyptian history, but the last thing I was thinking about was my blog. I’ll post that one on Saturday, so be looking for it—tons of great photographs and a fun article to go with them…

Some of you are aware of the dark cloud that’s been hovering over my family of late. It feels like we’re hexed. My dd had to close her frame shop due to too many medical issues within her family. We had to make the decision that she’ll be a stay-at-home mom for the unforeseen future. Kelly had to undergo a radical hysterectomy; her 11-year-old daughter had an extended stay in the hospital; and today, her 6-year-old had surgery to remove a tumor from her leg—and that doesn’t look like that will be the end of that little girl’s issues. The doctors think she has something called fibrous dysplasia, and that will be a chronic, life-long affliction.

So, even though we are resilient and usually very upbeat and positive people, right now we’re all depressed and doing our best to push through everything. In the meantime, writing time is precious and hard to schedule because she needs so much support. I’m doing the heavy lifting (she has a very active 20-month-old!) while her husband works. So I’m over there from early morning to evening.

But, that doesn’t mean I’m getting nothing done; I’m just not as communicative as I usually am, so bear with me. I’m making lists and checking them twice to make sure I don’t drop too many balls.

I think I’ll sage my dd’s house tomorrow. 🙂

10

That’s the number of loads of laundry I have to do every week. As a stay at home mom and writer, I struggle every day finding the balance between it all. Since the home is my office, I can’t stand when it’s a mess. If the dishes are piling high, the laundry room door won’t shut, or if there is dirt all over the floor, I find it hard to concentrate. Then let’s add three screaming, singing, dancing kids in the mix with their wails for more milk and their toys with wheels, bells and whistles that are so loud I can’t hear myself think. Cliché, but so true.

But, yesterday, as I stood in my kitchen and folded, and folded and folded, I realized if it were any different I might not like the reality so much. If I didn’t have all those clothes to fold it could mean a number of things.

The best possible scenario would be that I’ve become filthy rich from my book sells and I’ve hired someone to do my laundry. Yah! That might not be so bad.

The other scenarios aren’t so great. They could mean that we’ve lost everything we have, so we don’t have any clothes. Worse, it could mean that my little people are no longer around. The thought of something bad happening to my children was too much to bear, so I began folding with a little more gusto.

Now, when I look at all those dirty clothes, I say “Bring It On.” Always try to find the silver lining in life!

Cupid’s Angels

Ellie Childs isn’t looking for love. She’s looking for an AC technician for the Forest Wood Senior Center. But, when the repairman happens to be tall, dark, and handsome, he has the goods to make her change her mind. Unfortunately, he’s taken by a blonde Barbie.

David White moved to Cupid, Arkansas, to be closer to the woman he loves, his grandma, and away from his ex-fiancée. Believing his broken heart would never work again, he’s proven wrong. Ellie’s shimmering auburn curls and compassionate nature sends his heart thumping. His mind soars with thoughts of giving love another shot. But as luck would have it, she’s taken, and the guy she’s seeing is a real jerk.

When David’s grandmother sees how perfect Ellie would be for her grandson, she gathers the troops. She and her three friends form Cupid’s Angels. Their mission, to bring David and Ellie together. Despite their best efforts, the Angels’ plans backfire, pushing David and Ellie farther apart and into the arms of others. Or, so they think.

Will the Angels’ good intentions win out, or will their plots and schemes undermine what could have been the love of a lifetime for David and Ellie?

About the Author

Erin Bevan was born and raised in Southwest Arkansas. She spent her teenage years working for her aunt at the local gas station flipping burgers and making milkshakes dreaming of the day when something better would come her way.

Fast forward ten years later, she found herself stuck inside an apartment in South Korea while her daughter went to preschool and her husband went to work. Alone and unable to speak the local language she turned to books for a friend. After reading a few hundred in such a short time, she decided to try her hand at writing one.

That first one sucked, but by the fifth and sixth book, Erin started to get the hang of this writing thing. Getting the first contract in the mail was a dream come true. Now, with three babies at home, she squeezes in stories one word at a time, one sentence at a time, one day at a time.  She’s a full time mom, a full time wife, with a little writer sprinkled in whenever she can get the chance.