SANTA'S MAKING A LIST AND CHECKING IT TWICE

What’s on your Christmas list? Do you have or want an E-reader, or are you a die hard paper fan? Whichever you answer, I hope you have books on your list to give and as hints to receive. Let me tell you about one of my books I hope you’ll read and enjoy.


So far, the Kincaid series consists of THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE and THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND. Today, I want to tell you about the latter.

When I was thinking about the plot and naming characters, I wondered what to call this hero. He was a bit of a rascal, or thought he was, but he changes throughout the book. Talk about character arc! I was sitting in church one Sunday and the minister mentioned that Bartholomew and Nathaniel were the same person, but his name changed to show his life’s change when he became a Christian. Aha! Nathaniel Batholomew would be my hero’s name. But he uses a long string of aliases, one of which is Nate Barton, and that’s how he introduces himself to the heroine, Sarah Kincaid.

Sarah is the younger half-sister of the heroine in THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE. These are stand-alone books (authors always say that) but you will enjoy them far more if you read them in order. Sarah is a shy young woman very conscious of appearances and is going back to Texas from St. Louis and her mother's funeral. Due to her unfortunate childhood, she always acts with propriety. She needed a strong character arc too. What could possibly cause this proper young schoolteacher to interact with a man she suspects is up to no good? Nothing short of orphans who must be rescued from an evil man following them could effect the change. One snowy day in Memphis, Tennessee, Sarah finds three cold youngsters, one of whom is seriously ill. She enlists Nate to help her get the youngsters safely to her home. She also hires a lovely Irish woman, Fiona, to act as her companion for the rest of the trip.


Many readers have written to ask when the next Kincaid book will be published. In the future, book three is planned for Sarah’s brother Storm. I also plan a novella for Nate’s friend Michael “Monk” and Fiona’s daughter.  I love this family and the characters surrounding it, so you can be certain I’ll be publishing more books about the Kincaid family and friends in the near future!

Cover design by my Hero husband,
who is certain everyone knows
the Jack is also called the Knave
and that a knave is a rogue

Here’s an excerpt from THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND:

That man in black--he'd introduced himself as Nathaniel Barton--had been at the cemetery. He was always around on the boat, too, and now he was here in their hotel in Memphis. He trailed behind her as if he hadn't a care in the world. Surely it was coincidence. Lots of people traveled from St. Louis to Memphis every day.


The porter stopped in front of a room and opened the door. He stood back for her to enter, but not before she saw Mr. Barton at the next door. He even glanced her way and smiled as he nodded his head in greeting.


My stars, he's staying in the very next room to mine.


What kind of hotel would allow a single man on the same floor as a single woman? She fought down panic as she dealt with the porter, then locked the door behind him and slid the bolt. Alone in her room, her imagination ran its course as she paced. Had she strayed into a den of iniquity?


No, that couldn't be. Mrs. Welborn assured her this was a family hotel suitable for a young woman. After all, the Welborns registered here, too. How did Mr. Barton come to be in the very room next to her? It wasn't proper. What would people think? What would they say?


She caught herself. The Welborns were the only people here she knew, and she hardly cared what they thought other than their reports back to the Vermillions and Aunt Lily. Even they could hardly blame her for the hotel's room assignments.


This Mr. Barton could not mean her harm. There'd been ample opportunity on the paddle wheeler had he intended to hurt her. They'd never had a conversation on a personal level. His comments had centered on the trip and the weather, not a hint of anything improper and always with others nearby. Perhaps his constant presence was a coincidence. Just the same, he made her nervous. She felt like a rabbit waiting for the wolf to pounce whenever Mr. Barton was near.


In the midst of her concern, she admitted his presence offered reassurance to her that she was protected from others. Surely he would rush to her aid if she needed assistance. Her instincts proved right regarding Mr. Welborn. Perhaps she should rely on intuition in this instance. She wished she were more decisive, not a victim of warring emotions.


She raised her skirt and checked the little double-shot derringer given her by her brother, Storm. Best to be prepared. The little gun still rested securely in its garter holster on her thigh. Storm had insisted she practice until she was a fair shot. Would she have the courage to use the weapon against a human? She doubted it, but its weight reassured her.


Sarah spied the door connecting her room with the one in which Mr. Barton resided. Rushing to check the lock, she stopped. She must not let him know she suspected him of following her. Very slowly she turned the knob of the connecting door. Locked. She released a heavy sigh.


Curiosity nudged her. Kneeling, she peered through the keyhole. The opening framed him as he pulled a fresh shirt from an open valise on the bed. Shucking his jacket and waistcoat, he took a pistol from his waistband and placed it on the bed beside the satchel. He unbuttoned his shirt.


She knew she should move away but couldn't. Oh, my stars! He might dress like a riverboat dandy, but this gorgeous man was no weakling. Trouser fabric pulled taut against trim hip muscles when he turned and bent over the things on the bed.


Her mouth went dry as a Texas dust storm. She watched him turn back to face her. He removed his shirt and tossed it behind him on the bed. Then she saw the bandage across his shoulder and another at his waist. She wondered which side of the law he was on when he got those, but thought she knew. The wrong side, of course.


He picked up a fresh shirt and she caught the ripple of muscles across his chest as he slipped the shirt on. His movements were swift and powerful, not the sluggish ambling she had witnessed in public.


Occasionally in summer she had caught glimpses of her brother, her brother-in-law, and the hands at the ranch with their shirts off. Unlike their tanned torsos, Mr. Barton's pale skin made her fingers tingle to touch the brown chest hair that converged in a vee at his belt. She wondered how far below his waist the pelt descended. A pool of warmth gathered at the base of her stomach.


My stars, what disgraceful thoughts.


Where did they come from? They weren’t proper. No, not at all suitable. Being away from home must be having a poor effect on her.


Never before had such scandalous ideas entered her head about any man. She didn’t have these thoughts about Peter Dorfmeyer, and everyone expected her to marry Peter. Mr. Barton was the most attractive man she’d ever seen, but she must get her wayward thoughts under control.


Buttoning his shirt, Mr. Barton stepped from her view. When he returned and glared at the keyhole, she froze. Surely he couldn't know she watched him. She sank further to the floor and sat with her back against the door.


Sarah pressed her hands to heated cheeks, shocked at her own behavior. She was no better than a window peeper. What on earth had come over her?


A sudden thought assailed her. What if he planned to look through the keyhole as she had? Taking a hanky from her cuff, she draped it over the doorknob so it hung across the tiny opening. No, that wouldn’t do. It kept sliding off. She rose and opened her traveling bag and took out a shirtwaist. Hanging it on the knob, she stepped back. Perfect. It looked as if she used the handle for a hook.


She crossed to the vanity. Not taking time to change from her traveling suit into a dress, she contented herself with pushing stray hair back into her chignon and grabbing her shawl. With any luck, she could purchase her train ticket while her neighbor had his dinner.


Sarah walked briskly to the train station. A line greeted her at the ticket window. Oh, well, she loved watching people, so she wouldn't mind the wait. Taking her place in the row, she surveyed the other prospective passengers wandering to and fro. She studied the clothes of other women, compared them to her own black clothing. In her head she made up stories of who they were and where they might be headed.


A young boy bumped with a wham into the man in front of her. The child's hand darted into the man's pocket and out with a flash and secured the lifted wallet under his shirt. Probably no more than seven or eight, the lad wore the dirtiest clothes Sarah had ever seen. His hair might have been blond at one time, but it and his skin had gone a long time without touching soap and water.


"Oh, excuse me, sir." The boy's large blue eyes were the picture of innocence when he gazed up at the man.


Sarah gasped. What should she do? She couldn't bring herself to cause a scene by screaming, but neither could she stand by and let the child rob this man.


"Steady, you little ragamuffin.” The victim placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Slow down and see you're more careful next time.”


"Yes, sir, sorry. I will, sir.” The boy moved swiftly away into the crowd.


Sarah took off after the little thief. He looked over his shoulder and she motioned to him. His eyes widened in alarm and he ran. She gathered her skirts and rushed after him, weaving around groups of people.


When she had almost caught up with the light-fingered boy, she thudded against a solid wall of chest.


Mr. Barton grunted and clutched Sarah's shoulders, then dropped his hands and made a slight bow. "Why, I believe it's Miss Kincaid, is it not? Are you in some sort of distress?"


"No, it was nothing.” She peered over his shoulder but the thief was nowhere in sight. "I thought I saw someone I knew, but I was mistaken.” She felt her cheeks flush again with guilt. Their collision must have jarred his injured chest, but she couldn't ask him about it. How could she explain that knowledge?


"Your traveling companions--Welwoods or Welworths--are they with you?"


"No. The Welborns were tired and planned to have dinner sent to their room.” She thanked heavens for that. Eating with the odious Mr. Welborn soured her stomach. But now this man who, for all appearances, followed her everywhere had neatly trapped her. A shiver of apprehension skittered down her spine, but she stood mesmerized by his tawny eyes.


As if he sensed her fear, he offered a crooked smile and proffered his` arm. "May I escort you back to the hotel?"


"I was..." she stopped. Her nerves jangled with alarm, but she strove to appear calm. She preferred buying her ticket in private. If he hadn't yet learned where she headed, she didn't want him to know her exact destination. "That would be very kind, um, Mr. Barton.”


"Bit cool this evening, isn't it?"


My stars, didn't the man ever talk about anything but the weather? Maybe he was one of those gorgeous physical specimens with the brain of a rock.


She sighed and answered, "Yes, there's a chill in the air. I suppose we're in for more winter.”


What should she do? Panic turned her stomach in knots. She should send him on his way, but didn't know what to say or do. Hating herself for her timidity, she once more flowed with the easiest course and allowed herself to be escorted back to the hotel.


Buy links for THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND are:

Amazon


http://www.amazon.com/MOST-UNSUITABLE-HUSBAND-Kincaids-ebook/dp/B004M8T1D8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1323636066&sr=1-1

Smashwords
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/37792?ref=CarolineClemmons


Reviews for THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND include a 4 1/2 star Top Pick from Romantic Times Magazine. This book was also a finalist in the National Readers Choice competition but came in a fraction behind the winner. But it’s impossible to please everyone. Two people have left very mean-spirited reviews on Amazon. If you read this book and enjoy it, would you please leave a review on Amazon?

Thanks for stopping by!

IDEAS INTO BOOKS

People often ask authors where we get our ideas. My friend Bobbye Terry (who also writes as Daryn Cross) answers that she gets hers from a small idea factory in Ohio. Yes, she does have a fun sense of humor. I sometimes say a fairy sprinkles magic dust onto my keyboard. In reality, even the smallest event can present the kernel of an idea.

For instance, when I was a student at Lubbock High School, I took theater. My teacher, Mr. Black, was terrific as an instructor and as a person. He and his wife were on their way back to Lubbock from Dallas when they encountered a fierce rainstorm. In a basically flat terrain, heavy rains produce flash floods as the water heads for the usually shallow creek- and riverbeds.

Between the Texas towns of Snyder and Post (founded by cereal magnate C.W. Post), the railway is built on a raised earthwork dike that acts as a dam for floodwaters as roiling torrents rush for the local fork of the Brazos River and to Sandy Creek. Mr. Black was driving through this water and watched in horror as a watertight VW bug was swept away. Fortunately, the VW lodged on the railway bank. Mr. Black was in an old, old (teachers don’t make much money) Renault, and water came in one door and exited the other. Still a frightening experience for he and his wife, but they made it home safely.

Aurora

Years and years later, my husband and I were returning from visiting our parents in Lubbock and heading toward home in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. We passed by the spot mentioned above after a downpour. It reminded me of Mr. Black’s story, and started me thinking. What if a woman traveling through this area was caught in a downpour like that? What if she was able to leave her car, but the vehicle was swept away? What if she had to walk along the railroad looking for help?


That’s how Aurora O’Shaunessy leaped from my imagination into a book called BE MY GUEST. She’s on her way to Colorado with the intention of buying a gift shop from a family friend. Aurora has definite plans for her life. This stage doesn’t include romantic complications. First, she wants to get her business firmly under control, perhaps then she will be open to love. Hmmm, when did life ever follow our plans?



Rancher Will

 One Sunday the newspaper had a feature on an elderly rancher whose horse fell, trapping the rancher on a red ant bed. Ouch! The horse was all right, but the rancher--in addition to numerous ant stings--broke his leg. His fighting spirit allowed him complete recovery. But what if the rancher was young and handsome? What if he was a widower with a child? Enter Will Harrison, a rancher whose wife died of leukemia. At least he has his daughter Kelly, his ranch, and extended family. But when a beautiful woman is his guest and the floodwaters have them cut off from the rest of the world, he realizes his family is right. Although he'll always love his wife, it’s time to move on. Can he convince Aurora to give up Colorado and remain with him?


Available on Smashwords
and Amazon Kindle


In reality, the small idea factory is not in Ohio, but in the writer’s imagination. We can’t help ourselves--everything makes us think PLOT! Every news story, documentary, non-fiction book, and family story fuels our muses. BE MY GUEST was first published by Kensington. Now that the rights hav reverted to me, I’ve published it on Smashwords and Amazon Kindle for only 99 cents.

Here’s an excerpt from BE MY GUEST:

The clock on the dashboard displayed one o'clock when Aurora was free to concentrate on lunch in Snyder. Clouds gathered and rumbled with thunder over the West Texas town. Aurora's empty stomach rumbled with them. After a hazardous morning, fatigue overshadowed her usually cheerful nature. She passed by the fast food places before she spotted the family restaurant recommended to her by the Texas State Trooper a few minutes ago.

Cars and trucks filled the parking lot. What a lucky break, she thought, when she spotted illuminated taillights and a car backed out of the prime parking slot at the entrance. Aurora saw the lone man in the dusty red pickup truck facing her, waiting for the space. He sat in the very same type and color truck used by two ruffians who had terrorized her earlier in the morning. Although she knew this man could not be one of those two men, an unreasonable anger bubbled up in her directed toward all cowboys, especially those in red trucks.

Her normally pleasant nature turned aggressive and she zipped the Mustang into the vacated park before the less maneuverable truck could occupy the space. The man honked the truck horn at her as she got out of her car. She just smiled and blew him a saucy kiss as she hurried into the restaurant. After all, any real gentleman would have let a lady have the only space in the first place, she told her nagging conscience.


Her conscience would not be quieted so easily. She must be in shock from her morning encounter. Never had she acted so rudely. Regretting her impetuous actions already, she thanked goodness the exchange occurred with a stranger and not someone she might meet again.


Seated in the corner booth, Aurora ordered a hamburger, French fries, and a large Dr Pepper. While she waited for her food, she reviewed the items listed under the town of Snyder in her Texas guidebook. Suddenly, she sensed someone standing beside her booth. As she looked up--and up--a huge cowboy with most of his left leg in a cast leaned his crutches against the side of the booth. He slid onto the seat beside her, which pinned her in the booth with him.


Aurora scooted to the right as far as possible. "Hey, who do you think you are? This is my booth, and no one invited you to share it with me!"


"Your car's sitting in my parking space, so I'll sit in your booth," he said calmly as he removed his Stetson and ran his fingers through sandy brown hair. He turned in his seat to hang the hat on the hook at the end of the booth by his crutches.


Aurora blushed when she realized this must be the man whose parking space she mischievously stole. Oh no, how terrible. He must have had to park a long way from the door and hobble in on those crutches. How embarrassing. The one time in her life she acted rudely, her victim turned out to be a man handicapped by a leg cast and crutches. Still, he had his nerve sitting beside her without so much as a "may I."


Her chin came up defensively. "Okay, I apologize. If you used one of those disability placards on your rear view mirror, people would know you have a problem."


"Lady, my problem is that you stole my parking space," the cowboy said coolly. He lifted his left leg so that the cast-encased foot rested on the seat facing them, then swiveled to gaze at her.


Aurora smelled the cowboy's after-shave mixed with the clean scent of his breath when he turned his face toward her. His stone gray eyes met hers. She saw anger drain from his eyes, replaced by stunned amazement. He leaned toward her.


Her awakened senses rocketed into response. Each thread on the sleeve of his blue chambray shirt seared where it touched her arm. For a moment Aurora had the astonishing thought that this cowboy might lean further forward and kiss her right here in public. Equally astonishing, but fleeting, came the thought that she wouldn't mind a kiss from this man. Her tongue flicked across her lips and she gave herself a mental shake, unable to turn away from his mesmerizing gaze.


What can you be thinking? You have absolutely no business falling for some good-looking cowboy out here in the middle of nowhere. Get a grip on yourself.


Her heart quelled the voice of reason within her mind. Aurora’s her stomach somersaulted from butterflies to flip-flops as she stared into the cowboy's wide gray eyes. She broke his gaze and peered at her folded hands a second before she threw them up in capitulation.


"Okay, Okay. I just don't know what came over me. I know you saw the parking space first, but I'm on Bubba-overload. Look, it's a long story, but it's been a real killer morning. Once again, I apologize and plead temporary insanity" She placed her hands palms down on the table.


His gaze raked over her, and one eyebrow elevated. "Well, well. I'm almost convinced there's remorse here. Almost--but not quite. Would you like to explain to me what 'Bubba-overload' is and what it has to do with me?"


"Listen, I apologized. Let's just drop it. Okay?" Surprised at the petulant tone in her voice, she adjusted the dark green scarf that held the hair back from her face


The man peered at her steadily, his voice polite but firm when he spoke. "No, ma'am, we can't drop it. I think I deserve an explanation after that 'Bubba' line. It sounded very much like an insult to me."


This man obviously had his hackles up and wanted a full explanation. After her morning's adventures, she found herself impatient with this cowboy, even though her mind recognized his request sounded reasonable. Finally, Aurora swiveled at her waist to face him as much as the limited space allowed. "Oh, well, if you insist. You wore that western hat and were in a pickup truck. At a glance, you looked like the typical red-necked Bubba. All you lacked was a big wad of tobacco bulging in your cheek."


She raised her hand and shook a finger at the man as if he were a delinquent school boy. "Listen, I've had my fill, and then some, with you guys. You follow me, whistle at me, lean out a truck window to sing to me, shout, or wave to me. I even receive various very rude gestures and get mooned. Believe it or not, I do nothing either to initiate or encourage any of this behavior."


A skeptical smile appeared and he raised his eyebrows. A flush of color heated her face at the memory of her behavior in the parking lot. She held up one hand to stop any comment he might make before she continued.


"Oh, I know, I acted brashly with you outside just now. Let me assure you, that's entirely unlike me. In fact, it's truly a first. I've never, ever done anything like that before."


She shook her head in wonder. "I don't know what came over me. As I said, it must have been temporary insanity due to Bubba-overload."


She pinched the fabric on the leg of the neatly creased blue denim jeans she wore. "Look at me. My jeans aren't skin-tight. They’re not painted on me." With a tug at the hem of her hunter-green knit top, she added, "My shirt isn't too tight, it has three-quarter sleeves, and the neck isn't low or revealing."


Aurora moved her knees and elevated a foot to display canvas shoes. "I'm wearing my little Keds, not flashy pumps with stiletto heels. All in all, I think I'm dressed very sedately and not at all in a provocative way."


The cowboy slid his glance slowly up and down her then back to her face before he smiled a slow, lazy smile that lit up his eyes and brought a dimple to his cheek. He reached over to grasp her untouched water glass and took a drink from it, his eyes returning to her face as he sipped the icy water.


Her own mouth opened as she watched his mouth against the rim of the glass. The tip of her tongue slid against her upper lip as the water slid into his mouth. She could almost feel his lips as they received the liquid. To hide the rising turbulence in the pit of her stomach, Aurora glared at him. In vain she tried to avoid thoughts of his stare or the dimple that appeared with his smile.

She forced herself to concentrate on her defense. "Um, I just drive along in my little blue Ford Mustang, enjoying the scenery and minding my own business. I do nothing to call attention to myself. I even try to be a good sport about the immature behavior some guys display."


She took a deep breath. "I try to take it all in stride and just keep on schedule but"--Aurora slammed her hands against the top of the table--"this morning, two very frightening Bubbas tried to run me off the highway and hijack me or my car."


His eyes widened and his mouth gaped, but she continued, "I'm only here because a State Trooper happened by in time to interrupt my abduction. Frankly, that scared the life out of me. The longer I thought about it, though, the angrier I became. By the time I got to this restaurant, I had completely lost my cool."


Aurora took a deep breath and gazed at her hands. She recalled the fright that consumed her when she realized the two men followed her. Only quick thinking on her part prevented the two ruffians from succeeding at their attempt to run her off the road and get her out of her car. She shuddered to think what might have happened if not for the State Trooper. And never, never would she forget the faces of those two men!


She waved her hands in a fluttery motion. "When I saw you in a truck the same color as the one that ran me off the road...well...I guess I just went bananas, berserk, crazy. That's why I'm pleading temporary insanity." Aurora leaned back and crossed her arms in front of her.


At this moment the waitress appeared with their food. Aurora stared in amazement as the waitress set the burger, fries and Dr Pepper in front of her and a duplicate of the order in front of the man beside her.


The waitress flashed what she probably thought of as her most seductive smile at the man. In a low, honeyed voice, she asked, "Anything else today, Will?"


He seemed unaware of the invitation in her voice or the hopeful sparkle in her eyes. "Not right now, Norma Sue, thanks. Go ahead and leave the check now and save yourself time."


When the disappointed waitress left, Aurora appraised Will. How could he fail to notice the waitress’ blatant invitation? Had he any idea how attractive he was? Hold on, this guy might be too good to be true.


Aurora gazed over he shoulder at the departing waitress. "How on earth did she know what to bring you? When did you give her your order?"


"When I came in." He leaned across her to get the salt and pepper. Will paused to flash her a truly breathtaking smile and the bottom fell out of her stomach again. "I also told her you’d pick up the check.”

To purchase BE MY GUEST for only 99 cents (and I hope you will), here are the links:

The Smashwords buy link is http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/36811?ref=CarolineClemmons

The Kindle buy link is http://www.amazon.com/BE-MY-GUEST-ebook/dp/B004M8T1EC/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1321284462&sr=1-3

Thanks for stopping by!

BOOK GIVEAWAY PLUS SHARING A GREAT REVIEW FROM THE ROMANCE STUDIO

Home Sweet Texas Home

Caroline Clemmons

Contemporary romance

Available from The Wild Rose Press
ISBN: 1-60154-939-3
July 2011

After the death of her mom, Courtney Madison became her younger brother's guardian. Each week they've managed to survive on the money she earns, but now she's offered the chance to change their way of life. Set to inherit two million dollars, all she has to do is abide by the rules set in the will of her friend, Sam, a dear old man that thought of her as a daughter.

Derek Corrigan doesn't have a high opinion of the woman about to inherit half of a fortune that was meant to be his. Worse yet, he hasn't even met her. Not until the day he walks into the bookstore where she works and tells her all about the will. But soon she has him changing his mind about her, however, he vows to fight his attraction for her because women are all the same -- they end up loving and leaving him.

From the start I absolutely loved this book, although the romance between Courtney and Derek remained on the sweet side when there was so much chemistry between them to be explored. The plot and dialogue was well written, and flowed nicely with the reading of a will changing many lives for the better. The characters were well developed with both Courtney and Derek being headstrong, yet knowing when enough was enough. What I liked so much about Courtney was her stubborn streak, and that she followed through with everything the will stipulated. And as for Derek, I adored how much help he gave Courtney, although at first he didn't want to because she was taking what he thought should have been his.

In conclusion, Ms. Clemmons has penned a fabulous novel in this one with some great secondary characters such as Derek's children and Courtney's brother that helped bring more ambience to the story. And lastly, this is a story I'd definitely recommend because it illustrates that no amount of money in the world brings happiness and that love does.

Overall rating: 5 Hearts

Sensuality rating: Mildly sensual

Reviewer: Bec

Thank you so much, Bec, for the wonderful review and thanks to The Romance Studio for hosting it! I hope readers will go to your site at http://www.theromancestudio.com/5heart_form.php starting August 29 to vote for my book.

Readers, thank you for reading my great review. Please leave a comment with your email address to enter my weekend drawing for a PDF download of HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME.

My Favorite Blogs and Bloggers!

Wow, Blogger has been having a meltdown, but I'm finally able to post my tribute to some of my fellow bloggers. I try to read the blogs of all my friends but, let's face it, it would take all day to visit each blog. So, I rotate visits to my faves. Here are some of my top picks.

Beth Trissel has one of the most beautiful blogs around. She generously uses photos taken by her and her family to illustrate her posts. She lives in picturesque Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, and I always love the information she shares. See "One Writer's Way" at http://bethtrissel.wordpress.com If you haven't read her books, do yourself a favor and read one today. Here's an excerpt from her blog:

Goldfinch from the garden of
Beth Trissel's mom

“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” Lou Holtz


Some of the cheeriest, downright euphoric, birds in this world are gold finches. And I don’t know how they’ve managed it, or if they’re responsible, but sunflowers have taken over my entire garden except for the plot where I’ve pulled them out and planted vegetables. This gradually expanding patch is absolutely hedged in by sunflowers. I don’t know if the birds flung extra seeds all over the ground, or how all these sunflowers came to be, but I’ve never known a garden to be overrun like this. (*Mom took this pic of a gold finch at her house.)

Kristen Lamb's social media blog is tops for learning your way around promotion and building an online presence via her "Warrior Writers" blog, http://warriorwriters.wordpress.com/ She also gives great writing tips and is a dynamo of energy. She also has written WE ARE NOT ALONE to guide non-technical writers like me. Here's an excerpt:

Almost any of us who decided one day to get serious about our writing, read Stephen King’s On Writing. Great book, if you haven’t read it. But one thing King tells us we writers must be willing to do, is that we must be willing to, “Kill the little darlings.” Now, King was not the first to give this advice. He actually got the idea from Faulkner, but I guess we just took it more seriously when King said it…because now the darlings would die by a hatchet, be buried in a cursed Indian filing cabinet where they would come back as really bad novels. …oops, I digress.


Little darlings are those favorite bits of prose, description, dialogue or even characters that really add nothing to the forward momentum or development of the plot. To be great writers, we must learn to look honestly at all little darlings. Why? Because they are usually masking critical flaws in the overall plot.


Today we will address two especially nefarious writing hazards that like to lurk below the wittiest dialogue and most breathtaking description:

Sandra Crowley has her "Driven2Danger" blog at http://Driven2Danger.blogspot.com and I'm the featured guest today. See how cool she is? Seriously, she has some unusual and interesting guests on her blog and I've been impressed at her diversity and ingenuity as well as her writing ability.

Going Fast!



This week I'm thrilled to introduce D2D's readers to my friend and long-time critique partner, Caroline Clemmons. This multi-published, award winning author and fun loving woman is a delight to know as you'll soon discover for yourselves. Have a great time talking with Caroline...

"Sweethearts of the West" is a team blog (of which Sandra and I are members) of writers whose contemporary and historical books are set west of the Mississippi. Some of the blogs just amaze me! The authors are so resourceful and generous in sharing their research. Stop by http://sweetheartsofthewest.blogspot.com/ and see for yourself.

Of course I love this blog and devour each post. I've learned some fascinating things. Do you like ghost towns? Here's an excerpt from Sweethearts of the West blog co-owner Celia Yeary's post on the coal mining ghost town of Thurber TX, which is about an hour west of Fort Worth:

Thurber miners

When my husband and I travel from Central Texas to North Texas on Highway 281, we pass under Interstate 20, which runs East-West. At that point there is a sign pointing west: Thurber-11 miles. After seeing this sign for several years, I wondered about Thurber, Texas, a small town I'd never heard of even though my place of birth was nearby. By researching Thurber, I found an amazing story of a thriving coal-mining town in the Nineteenth Century, now a ghost town with little remaining of the once-thriving populated area. Almost all signs of life are gone, including all the buildings.

"5 Texas Writers" are friends from my local RWA chapter. I've known four of them for many years and am I'm delighted to have recently met the fifth. Catch them at http://5texaswriters.blogspot.com/ If you check them out, please follow them. Their blog is new and needs more readers an followers. Here's an excerpt of nurse practitioner and YA author Avery Michael's latest post:

Avery's avatar

Nourishing the Soul



I've heard this phrase often, but never knew exactly what it meant. We feed our bodies with all types of substances but what does a soul need?


A special kind of Chocolate? Italian? Mexican? Sushi? Cheesecake?

I don't mean to make light of the spiritual aspect of our bodies, but how does one go about feeding a system that is vitally important yet not actually a tangible thing.


After going through an illness lately, I came across the phrase again and there's nothing like your body showing you in a huge, big time way no one is immortal. So I decided to do a little research and lots of thinking. And I think I came up with what I believe is necessary to sustain a soul.


1. Know who you are. I don't mean as a wife, a mother, or whatever your day job is, or how others perceive you, but who you really are deep inside. How do you do this? Start by being still. Very, very still. Let all those labels fade away like a summer storm. In the calm aftermath, think about how you are feeling, think about what you know to be true about yourself. Embrace the bad as well as the good. Work on the bad and enhance the good.

That's probably enough for today. On the sidebar, you can see these and several other favorites listed. Of course, it's impossible to list all those I like. There are too many.
Allow me to remind you my backlist of books is available now at Smashwords and Amazon. Those books are the contemporary BE MY GUEST and SNOWFIRES, and the historical Kincaid duo, THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE (Book one) and THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND  (Book two).

Smashwords buy link: http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=Caroline+Clemmons

Amazon buy link: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=Caroline+Clemmons+Kindle&x=9&y=17

 Thanks for stopping by today!