My Grand Announcement for the New Year by Suzanne de Montigny

Welcome, Suzanne...

It's been a while. I've been crazy busy with Christmas, my kids, Mexico, etc., but now I'm back. And how did I start my new year? With edits of course. I have this new publisher, Books We Love, who have taken on my entire unicorn series. I'm thrilled. So far, they've released Shadow of the Unicorn: The Legacy as an ebook, soon to be followed by a print book. Check out the beautiful cover.

Is that incredible or what? You can download a copy here. It's quite inexpensive, plus better your tween read than game, right? And boys like it just as much as girls because it's action-packed.

Now, I've completed the edits for Shadow of the Unicorn: The Deception that will be released as an ebook on Valentine's Day, followed by a print book. Check out this cover.

Nice, eh? Aren't you just wondering why there's a glacier in the picture? Not telling you why, but it's really good. Apparently my editor gave it highest praises.

Of course, I'm working madly on book three, The Revenge too but haven't got a cover yet. And, I'm pushing to get A Town Bewitched published by hook or by crook within the next few months.

Anyway, here are my blurbs:

Shadow of the Unicorn: The Legacy

A loud, hissing sound filled the air. The unicorns looked up, their eyes filled with horror.

Azaria, a unicorn colt, is intrigued when the young, clairvoyant dinosaur, Darius, foresees a terrifying change to their world. When a giant fireball smashes into the earth, the unicorns struggle to survive the hurricanes and starvation that follow. But nothing compares to the danger when the creatures-that-walk-on-two-legs settle in the valley, and their leader discovers the healing power in the unicorns’ horns. Greedy and ruthless, Ishmael will stop at nothing in his pursuit of wealth – even the complete extinction of the herd. Azaria must find a way to outsmart Ishmael before it’s too late.

Shadow of the Unicorn: The Deception:

Sixty years after the unicorns’ narrow escape from extinction, Azaria's Legacy has gone wrong. The new generation barely exists, hidden in the depths of the forest. Their cruel and ruthless leader, Icarus, threatens them daily with Jaresh, an invisible being capable of taking away their powers. Angry, the young colt Ulysees and his friend Téo rebel, following an old, abandoned trail where they’re discovered by humans. Now the entire herd must flee. But Ulysees learns there’s a far greater danger than humans when he meets a giant creature who warns him of impending doom…

I'm totally psyched! I can't wait to hold four print books of different titles in my hand! It's my New Year's resolution that I publish four books this year. I have other ambitions too, but am keeping that secret for now. Ta-ta.

Check out Suzanne's author page on Amazon.

Sunday Snippets with Ginger #sundaysnips

Naïve, country girl, Cynthia Freitas, moves to the big city with high hopes, but her starting salary barely makes rent in a run-down tenement. Newspaper headlines warn of a serial killer in the neighborhood, and the article grabs her attention when she recognizes the victims bear a striking resemblance to her. Alex Carlyle is assigned to assist detectives in one of the toughest cases he’s ever experienced as a cop. Despondent over a recent break-up with his fiancé, he buries himself in his work until he meets the cute new tenant next door who gives him something else to think about except kidnap and murder. The aftermath of their first “jolting” kiss places the burden on Cynthia to solve Alex’s case and keep him from potentially becoming the next victim. 

Previously published as Beside Myself 

In this excerpt, the hero meets the heroine"


Maybe today was the day he’d clean up the pigsty he lived in. Maybe not! He stretched and yawned, feeling the need to pee.

Alex rolled to the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, then swaggered into the bathroom to
relieve himself of the six pack he‘d polished off before bed. As he stood at the toilet, he stared through bleary eyes at his reflection in the medicine chest mirror. His dark shock of hair lay flat on one side while the other looked like a tornado had rumbled through. Rubbing the palm of his hand against his stubbly chin, he longed for the days when he didn't have to shave every morning.

"I guess being tall, dark and handsome has its drawbacks," he quipped, while slapping both his
cheeks. Too much alcohol always made waking up tough.

"Hmm!" He leaned in closer, recalling an old re-run of a favorite cop program. “Maybe I should
forego shaving and see if I can pull off that Miami Vice-Don Johnson look." He studied the image staring back at him. "Ah, maybe not ... then I'd have to get one of those white, linen outfits like he wears." Alex backed away and cocked his head.

How would that famous TV cop solve Alex’s current case? The hot water always took at least
five minutes to reach his apartment so Alex turned on the shower. While he waited, he sauntered back to the bed and pulled his covers back into place and straightened the pillows. Satisfied he’d done something to improve his housekeeping, he dropped his boxers on the floor, stepped out of them and went back into the bathroom where the water had finally turned warm. Taking a shower in The Cairns was more like walking in a light rain, but Alex stepped in the tub and quickly soaped and rinsed. The one thing he could always count on: the hot water never lasted very long.

He yanked the towel from the wall rack, sending the securing hardware flying in all directions.
Amidst the tinkling of scattering screws, the entire bar clattered to the floor. He shook his head and sighed. "Shit! What next?"

Terrycloth wrapped around his waist, Alex left the mess lying on the floor and went into the
bedroom. Should he fix the bar or call the super? Such important decisions made Alex laugh. He
decided to fix the bar later, right after he picked up all the bottle caps on the living room floor.
He donned his sweat suit and tennis shoes. Images of the missing women spun through his
mind, along with a faceless man who heaved a snide laugh at the police‘s inability to catch him.
Overcome with the need to escape his cramped quarters and sickening images, Alex decided a quick run around the nearby park sounded like just the ticket. Besides, a little exercise would counter-balance allvthose calories from his nightly beers, a habit he’d acquired since the breakup, and one he needed to discard.

He picked up his IPod and clipped it to his waistband. As he opened the door, the heaping
trashcan in the kitchen corner caught his attention. The contents overflowed the container and spewed onto the floor. He donned his headphones and cranked up the volume of his all time favorite song, Travis Tritt's, Ten Feet Tall and Bulletproof.

Singing along and not caring that he wasn't in tune, he picked up empty beer bottles, potato chip
bags, and all the caps that missed their mark and stuffed them all inside the garbage sack. After tying the top, he hefted the bag over his shoulder and strode out into the hallway, keeping step with the musical beat.

While passing Apartment 2A, the door opened. The tenant backed into the hallway, two garbage
bags in tow. Not watching where she was going, she bumped right into him.

Obviously shocked by the sudden impact, she spun around. "Excuse me, I'm so sorry. I should..."

Her widened eyes traveled the length of his body.

 Her mouth gaped.

He towered over her petite, maybe five-foot-three frame.

She gazed up at him. "Uh ... I should have been watching where I was going."

Alex dropped the trash bag on the floor and removed his headphones. Unable to resist, he
returned her once over, but with a much slower scan. Blonde hair drawn back into a ponytail presented a youthful appearance, but her clingy, terrycloth outfit did a great job outlining assets that proved she wasn't a child. The way she licked her full bottom lip, maybe a nervous habit, made him want to savor a taste for himself.

Realizing he had missed most of what she said, he forced himself to stop ogling her and pay
attention. He'd heard her apology and needed to respond, but his mouth turned dry as dust. He cleared his throat and smiled. "No problem," he managed to croak.

Puberty and voice change passed through his mind, but that took place a long time ago. He
swallowed hard and pointed to her trash bags and then to his own. "Looks like we're both headed for the same place."

"Yep, it's Saturday, my cleaning day. Same routine every weekend." 

Her head tilted in a way that made her beautiful hazel eyes sparkle. His palms turned sweaty, and he wiped his right hand against his pant lengthen extended it.

"Name's Alex Carlyle. I live in Apartment 2E."

Her tiny hand disappeared inside his. "Hi, Alex. I'm Cynthia Freitas. Looks like we're neighbors.
How long have you lived here?"

Why did she make his knees weak? He adjusted his stance. "Going on two years already. Time

flies when you're having fun."

***************************

I got carried away and gave you more than a few snippets. This is one of my favorite stories, and you can't imagine how hard it was to write about two characters who really, really become entwined.

  Hop on over to the following sites and check out their weekly offerings:

http://www.jamiehill.biz (Jamie Hill)

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)

http://medievalnovels.blogspot.com (Vijaya Schartz)

http://connievines.blogspot.com (Connie Vines)

Friday Freebits with Ginger Simpson #frifreebits

Preface:  Cynthia has already become acquainted with her neighbor, a San Francisco Police Officer.  They've met on the way to the dumpster, and Alex is now helping her take out the trash.  As you can see...Cyn's mind is elsewhere at the moment:

Once in the alley, Cynthia flashed back to the building Superintendent and his suspicious behavior. She fought the urge to dig for the bundle he'd deposited, and almost laughed. Wouldn't dumpster diving make a great first impression on her handsome neighbor? 

Alex snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Can I have your other bag or have you become attached to it?" 

"I'm sorry," she said, handing it to him. "I guess I drifted off somewhere." 

Alex took hold of her elbow. "Garbage delivered, mission accomplished." 

She chuckled as they walked back into the building. "Next time I hope you take me some place that smells a little better." 

She noticed the slightly ajar first-floor apartment door as they ascended the stairs, but didn't mention it. For the first time since she'd arrived, she felt safe. 

You can pick up your copy via my Amazon page.

Darlin' Druid by Lyn Horner

I don't usually post videos done to represent the work of others, but I finished reading Darlin' Druid while in the hospital.  Lyn has done a fine job of showing an amazing story with lots of twists and turns, vivid romance and sexual allure, along with characters you'll come to love and hate.  I was very impressed and highly recommend her book, which I'm sure, if you're like me, you'll be happy to know is part of the Texas Druid Series.

I was going to write a summary review, but the person who did the trailer for Ms. Horner did such a fine job of capturing the essence of the story, I decided to post it here today.  Do yourself a favor and check out Amazon for your own copy.

Welcome, Laura Hogg

Hello, Ginger, thank you very much for having me here! It’s an honor, and I’m happy to be your guest today, among such wonderful company!

Let’s see, I write mostly romance, and the majority of it is historical or paranormal. I wonder if the house I grew up in had any influence. ☺

Carter was the president, or was it Ford? Ford. When as a small girl, I moved into this rather large house with my family. My dad got a great deal on the rent, and we were only three blocks away from the Catholic school my sisters and I would attend. Why did my dad get that excellent rate on this grand house built in 1901? A: It was directly behind a mortuary and B: It was rumored to be haunted. Ahah! That could explain my fascination with history and the paranormal, or maybe not.

At any rate, we lived there for ten years, and some interesting things happened there. I never did see a ghost, but my sister did, and she said, “He was wearing really old-fashioned looking clothes, just smiled at me then disappeared.”

My mom was a spiritual leader, a warm, loving, selfless person who spent her life helping others and teaching about God. She discussed with me things such as karma and the astral plane, ghosts and angels. My growing years were filled with information about the supernatural. Before I was born, my mom had been a folk singer and then a journalist, working as assistant editor for the second largest newspaper in the state where I was born. She remained a writer until the end.

Her little brother, (one of many siblings) is a famous rock singer, having shared the charts with the Beatles at one time. Well, one time he needed to get away; he needed a break from the scene. Our mysterious house behind the mortuary offered the perfect place for him to hide out. He stayed with us for a while, but when he’d walk my sisters and me to the ice cream shop or somewhere else, he’d always wear dark sunglasses. He once told me that in order to be a good songwriter, you had to tell a story.

I grew up as a musician who started writing poetry then moved on to rock songs before stories.  Not a very good musician, my heart was into it anyway.  I believe everyone has something to offer the world. As a musician, I didn’t have raw talent and struggled with my art, working very hard with not much success, but I had a message that was my own, a point to make that I was uniquely qualified to make. Sometimes technical skill isn’t the point; not when you’re called by a higher power to do something. Every one of us has something to say in a way no one else can.

As an introvert, I just wrote my stories for fun; then one day after college, when I was in my thirties, I decided to submit work. Of course it was rejected. Though I had a strong grasp of English grammar, I discovered in a critique group that it takes more than that to tell a story. I learned from many wonderful people who were also talented writers about the art and craft of fiction writing. Head-hopping? What was that? Point of view? These writers taught me so much over a few painful years having my work torn to pieces before I built it back up. I discovered what a pleasure it was to see a revised and much better version of my work after so much sweat and tears, so to speak.

Okay, now to give a smattering of my work:
The 12th Kiss: Set in 1820, London

Available with Wings ePress:
http://www.wingsepress.com/
An American heiress living in 19th century London can fight and uses her talent to go about in disguise as a hero and make the streets safer.  She meets and falls in love with a Viscount, and they become close friends.  They wander the City’s most dangerous streets together, fighting crime.  All the while, she has an enemy who wants her dead.

The Viscount is in love with the American heiress, not knowing that she is the best friend he tells his deepest secrets to.  He proposes marriage, and she turns him down because he would make her give up fighting if he discovered her true identity. They are in for a bumpy ride where true love could be lost forever, under the weight of crushed dreams.

Romeo vs. Juliet II: The Questrist (time-travel/spec-fic) ebook, short novel. (sex scene, but not graphic) (I love time travels!)

http://www.eirelander-publishing.com/romeovsjulietii.htm

Blurb:
Ambrose, an Elizabethan man, his wife Josephine, and their young daughter are called to an important mission in the far future, but something goes terribly wrong. Ambrose must solve a mystery or his family will be lost to him forever. He faces a deadly enemy. The trail leads him back into the past several centuries where Josephine has interfered; changing the direction of an important battle, and therefore Elizabethan England disappears off the map of history. He walks around his home world, unable to reverse things. Could this cause Romeo to leave Juliet forever?

Emma the Outlaw, a Western short story (electronic) out with Eirelander Publishing:

http://www.eirelander-publishing.com/emmatheoutlaw.htm

Emma looks down at the crowd from a hanging platform. Her father was framed, and she took the blame for the crime to save him from execution. Where is her beloved husband, Nate?  She looks around and sees her husband on a horse, guns blazing. In a whirlwind rescue, she hops on the back of his horse, and they’re off, realizing that they will spend the rest of their lives as outlaws.

They capture a wanted man and leave him at the doorstep of the sheriff’s office. The sheriff finds Emma and Nate and makes an interesting deal with them: they will capture the bad guys behind the scenes and allow him to take all the credit…this in turn for not being run in. For this couple, ahead lies a life of excitement and passionate love.

Deadly Karma: Three Speculative Tales (three short paranormal stories, electronic format) 

Available with Midnight Showcase:
http://www.midnightshowcase.com/midnight/Karma.htm

Karma: Karma’s Time Machine: A mean college girl learns a lesson she’ll never forget when she stumbles upon another dimension.

The Deadly 50/50: She is neither good enough for heaven, nor bad enough for hell. Now it’s time to take a stand. Given a task that sends her to the gates of hell, success seems possible; then she sees who the gatekeeper is.

Karma: The Blue Dress: One woman must make a sacrifice to insure the future. Another must give up something to save the past. What happens when the 21st century meets the 19th for a dual tale across time?

Meet Roseanne Dowell

Time to Live Again

Fifty-eight year old, Rose Asbury knows people think she’s a recluse, but she doesn’t care. She just wants to be left alone. She doesn’t need anyone, and no one needs her and that’s just fine. At least she didn’t until this year. For some reason this year is different. Suddenly she’s melancholy and discontent with her life.

And the man next door doesn’t help matters. Every time he sees her, he insists on speaking to her. Not to mention the little girl next door and her friends who begin harassing Rose. Rose knows she couldn’t be the man’s daughter. He’s much too old. Of course in this day and age who knows? But something tells her he isn’t her father. More like her grandfather.

To make matters worse, Rose's sister comes back. Back to haunt her that is.

Available from Red Rose Publishing

Meet the Characters from the Autumn Rose 40+ Paranormal:

Rose Asbury – she knows she’s a grouch, but she doesn’t care. All she wants is for everyone to leave her alone. Is that too much to ask?

Stephen Daniels – the man next door. Rose puzzles him. All he wants to do is make friends with her, but she rejects his every attempt.

Sarah Daniels – Stephen’s eight year old granddaughter. She doesn’t like that Mrs. Asbury is rude to her grandfather. But she has a plan.

Mary – Rose’s sister who died two years earlier. She’s here to help Rose learn to live again.

Louise Jordan – Rose’s best and only friend. Louise has been trying to get Rose out of her self-imposed reclusion.

You can find out more about Roseanne on her website!

Got Spirit?

Before I move on to sharing the outcome of my Astro-Soul healing, I thought I'd first share this TRUE story I wrote about what happened when my dad passed away.

My mother and father purchased their family home in Southern California and raised my younger siblings there.  I was already married with a child of my own and a second on the way.  My father had been in poor health for some time, and despite having a pacemaker implanted, he suffered a sudden and fatal heart attack.  Before his death, he agreed to turn the existing carport into a one-bedroom apartment for my grandmother, and with the help of my uncles, she finally had a lovely home close to her daughter. This may not seem like an important point at this stage of the story, but it plays a role later on.

My father passed away doing what he loved best, watching television in a bedroom that my mother had made into a comfy den.  After finding him face-down in the shag carpeting, Mom was haunted by that image for months.  Her usual happy demeanor faded, and she became withdrawn.  Together with my sisters, I approached Mom about selling the house and making a new start.  Clearly the place was filled with too many memories, good and bad.  Despite promising my father before his death she would never sell, she reluctantly agreed.

My mother was an immaculate house-keeper and the home was nicely decorated. To avoid scaring away potential buyers, we encouraged Mom not to divulge that someone had passed away in the house. We weren’t trying to be sneaky, just logical.  I think by law, now you have to come clean.  It wasn’t long before someone made an offer.  A lovely lady who took in foster children purchased it and wanted immediate occupancy.  We all hurried to get Mom and Granny moved as quickly as possible.  Then began the problems...

Mom wanted to move closer to my brother, and at that time, there was a housing boom in progress in his area. At almost 70 years old, she camped out overnight to be first in line for one of the few houses left for sale in the development of her choice.  The purchase of her new home was contingent upon the sale of her existing home because my father left no provisions for her support other than a small Navy retirement.

Before the sale on the family home could be finalized, Mom discovered that a building permit had not been drawn on the apartment.  After much worry, as is my mother’s nature, and what seemed to be endless paperwork, the problem was remedied.  But then her real estate agent informed her state law dictated a residence must have either a carport or a garage.  Now she had to invest money she could ill afford in something she’d never enjoy.  She sighed with relief when it was completed.  We all did.  Surely everything was in order now.

Planning her move, she arranged for a rental truck, and all her children took time from work to help.  Two days before the scheduled move, the agent returned with more bad news.  Her current property didn’t have an easement to use the only driveway to the house.  The original owners had taken out the front drive and put a gate in the back leading to a cemented parking area and the NEW carport.  The businesses behind the house refused to grant her access after twenty-five years.  Mom had to go to court to fight for her rights and luckily won the case. I shudder to think what would have happened if she hadn’t.  All the problems can be captured in a few short paragraphs, but in reality it took months before everything was resolved. Luckily the purchaser wanted the home enough to persevere, and the developer holding the deed to her new property showed the patience of job and gave her a time extension even though her new place could have sold many times over. Mom was finally able to make her down payment a few days before someone else ended up with her new home.

After literally losing half her hair and at least twenty pounds from stress, my mother appeared in ill-health and had returned to her depressed state.  Once we relocated her, we assumed she would bounce back, but instead she suffered guilt from selling after promising my father she wouldn’t. She was certain all the hassle happened because her broken oath to him.  As the weeks went by, she became more excited about the new house and less involved in her negative thoughts, until…

The woman who had purchased my mother’s old house called.  She wanted to know some things about my father and hoped Mom wouldn’t think her insane.  My mother found it very strange as they had never conversed about him at all.  Erma, the new tenant revealed to Mom that my father’s spirit lingered in the house, and cited the exact places he’d frequented most—the kitchen stool where he had his morning cereal, the bedroom and the den, which according to her, remained ice cold despite the warmth in the rest of the house.

On certain occasions, Erma’s dog refused to enter the bedroom, growling as if someone strange was in there.  Mom was totally shocked that Erma knew exactly how my dad had spent his remaining days, but when she said, “I know this is a very inappropriate question, but could you tell me about your late husband’s bathroom habits… especially, if he rested his hands in a certain spot?”

 I’m sure Mom gasped. My dad had always had a weight problem, and up until his death was a big man. The bathroom had a window ledge above the toilet where he always leaned.  Mom had used only a valance above for décor because of his habit.  Of course, she had to know why Erma would make such a strange inquiry. Erma’s response was, “I was taking down your valance to put up curtains of my own, and a voice behind me asked, ‘Now, where am I going to put my hands?’”  That was confirmation enough for Mom that Dad was still there.

My dad lived with Erma for a few years and she didn’t appear to mind.  It seems that she was used to being a cross-over point for departed spirits, and wasn’t frightened by them.  My mother never made a trip back to the old house although I’m sure it crossed her mind on many occasions.  Erma called one day and told her that Dad had at last gone to his final rest and was at peace.  She had finally convinced him it wasn’t his place anymore and he should follow the light. 

As for my mother, I had my doubts about her strength because my Dad had always been the pillar of our family.  When he passed, I expected her to become helpless and dependent on her children, but I was wrong.  The quiet, indecisive woman I remembered from my youth became determined and verbal.  She stood up for her rights, and despite all the obstacles put in her path, she faced each and overcame them.  When I expected the least from her, she delivered the most. We still joke about the time Dad lived with another woman for a while, but Mom just reminds us how very thankful we should be for the nice lady who showed my Dad the way home.  I’m sure if he could speak to my mom, he’d tell her what an amazing woman she is.  She’s eighty-five and still going strong, and I swear she’s going to outlive her kids.  

Be sure and come back tomorrow for more about Astro-Soul, my experiences, and some more personal encounters of the weird kind. 

Do You Believe in Spirits?

The paranormal genre is all the rage right now.  Most of it fiction and fantasy, but there are those of us among you who believe the paranormal is indeed fact.  Normally, one wouldn't go around confessing to dwelling among the spirits, but there are those who, for whatever reason, have been gifted with the ability to deal with the "other realm" without fear and with the intention of helping earthbound spirits find their way to the other side.

Years ago, I worked as a clerk in a nursery/landscaping company, and my co-worker was an awesome woman.  She and her sister, a local school teacher, belonged to a group called Astro-Soul.  Listening to my friend talk about the training sessions and their goals for assisting lost spirits fascinated me--so much so that I agreed to attend a "healing." 

I'm not sure what I expected, but I did know that both Pat and her sister were upstanding members of the community and I trusted them.  I'd worked with Pat for over a year and knew her quite well...her speech, her mannerisms.  I think because of my exposure to scary TV shows, I believed I would walk into a dark room with a crystal ball and get immediate goosebumps.  The opposite was what I found.  The "healing" was held in a friend's house--in a light and cheery living room where a card table and four chairs sat in the middle.  In the center of the table was a simple crystal bowl filled with water.

Before I relay my experience further, let me tell you that Astro-Soul is still a viable organization.  My interaction happened over thirty years ago, and it wasn't until a gifted friend shared her website with me, that I remembered my "healing" as though it were yesterday. As proof that the good work still goes on,  I found this on their Internet site, listed as their goals:

Understand the relevance of Past Lifetimes to this Lifetime
Unfold a deeper working relationship with your Spirit Guides
Develop your metaphysical sensitivity
Participate in in-depth healing sessions

My understanding is the members undergo training sessions that allow them to relax into a trance state, thus inviting a spirit to use their body for communication purposes.  Okay...so I was skeptical.  First, I couldn't image inviting a spirit to share my body, and I wasn't even sure I believed in "ghosts."  But that wasn't my function at this meeting.  Through the process I was to determine just how many "people" actually came to the meeting in my car although I declared I came alone. *smile*

At the beginning of the session, our hostess explained that though we may not see or hear the spirits that cling to us for various reasons, they are drawn to us because we represent someone familiar and provide comfort.  We all consist of "energy" and this is what a spirit represents--an energetic field that can drain our own.  That made sense. I walk around feeling drained all the time, so by that theory alone, I must have a bunch of  "clinger-oners."

I watched a few healings take place, where a guest sat at the table with two trained Astro-Soul members.  The guest was asked to place their hands over the water while one of the members served as interpreter and the other, a receptor. (These are my terms...not the organizations...in my attempt to explain what I perceived.)  I was engrossed in what I witnessed, but it was hard to make a connection without being a participant and relating the results to my own experiences.  So, I paid the nominal fee. (Yes, they do charge because the money goes back into the organization to continue the ability to enlighten others.)

What happened was amazing and made me a believer.  Of course, you're going to have to wait until tomorrow because this blog is running way too long to keep a reader's interest, and if I've learned anything about being an author, it's always leave a hook.

I invite you back tomorrow when I share what I found out about my past lives.