Sunday, November 16, 2014

Coffee, Coffee, Coffee and Nano

                     I love coffee and writing. 
                   What a great combination.

November is half over and I am not half way through my Nano Project, but don't worry. I plan on pushing along until the bitter end. 

This year I have seen many challenges, and my writing has had to take a back seat, but not forgotten back there.
That's why Nano is so important this year, and why I decided  to do a romantic comedy. 
The story is a comedy of errors between a kick ass bull rider and the marketer that has to tame him to save his career.

Here's a sneek peak from chapter 2:

Leather, Lace and forgotten Promises.

Lace limped past the group waiting for the elevator. She kicked the door closed behind her knowing this was probably her last day here and rage took over all common sense. She threw her bag to the floor and kicked  her heel off when the door flew open. Darcy waltzed in with a cup of coffee and shoved it in her cold hands.
“I can tell you need this, now drink,” said Darcy.
She took a deep breath in hopes the aroma would calm the urge to race into the conference room and strangle Michael, but it only fueled it.
“The gossip train is busy today and your driving the engine dear. Your entrance today has everyone’s  lips flapping out there. I know you have a personal bubble issue, But do dish on the details of your attire.” Lace sipped the steamy cup of courage as Darcy shook her head.
“This was a peach blouse, and black skirt, before that damn taxi decided I needed to wear the mud puddle I chose to stand in front of. But that’s not the worst part. I broke my heel chasing the son-of-a-bitch.” Lace leaned over and picked up what was left of her black Valentino’s. “ I saved months for these. ”
“Wow, too bad sugar. They were to die for. But we have bigger problems. Now finish that  while I try and figure out how I can fix this, because if you’re out of a job, so am I.”
I chugged the adrenaline laced CafĂ© Mocha and racked my brain to find a way out of this mess, but I knew from the look in Steve’s eyes that his mind was made up. All he knew was that Mike informed me about the change and I chose to show up late, and a total mess.
“Oh, no you don’t, Lace. I put in too many hours trudging through that damn cow shit  for you to let that pencil dick win. So let’s think. Ricker represents bull riders, won’t they understand a little mud,  if we put a spin on it?”
“Sure, but how are we going to work in  a broken shoe?”
“Just go barefoot. They’re rodeo cowboys, how smart can they be? You’re a marketing genius, make this work. I finally got you whipped into the best boss and I’m too damn old to train another.”
Darcy was the perfect secretary. She knew what was needed before it was asked for and did work her ass off for this contract. She looked at her watch. Five minutes until they started.
                “Okay, if this is going to be my last day, let’s make it count. Do you still have those bags I gave you? ”
                Darcy retrieved them  in seconds and dumped the contents on the desk.  Belts, buckles, cowboy hats, T-shirts and one red western shirt, with god awful fringe.  I jerked off my blouse and grabbed the T-shirt.
                “What boob are you going to cover with that? We bought everything small and there’s nothing small about those.” Snorted Darcy as she tried to hide her laugh.
                “Today I have to go from a D cup to a B, now help me.” She pulled the T-shirt over her head and crammed in her right arm, struggling with the left when Darcy yanked the shirt down. She shimmied it over her chest and it curled up at the waist.  Darcy grabbed the scissors and Lace stepped back.
                “What are you going to do with those?”
                “Turn a small into a medium and pray it works,so turn around.” Lace didn't even think, Right now she would do anything. Darcy clipped away and the T-shirt loosened, dropping  to cover her stomach.
                “The front looks great, I just need to step in and back up against the door.”
                “No you don’t sugar. Just put this on.”
                Lace caught the fringe and just shook her head. She crammed  her arms in and could barely move her shoulders.  It dropped to her waist with no chance in hell of closing in the front . She turned to her reflection and groaned, but knew she had to pull this off, then she looked down. Shit.
                “Put these on.” Darcy said as she kicked off her shoes.
                “Those are amazing to look at, but you like yours tall. Those have to be six inches. I’m a two inch kind of girl. I’ll kill myself.”
                “Not today,just strut what you haven’t smashed down, and you’ll be a shoe in.”
“Haha, very funny. But if I come back in a cast it’s all your fault.”
“You won’t, and don’t break those. I borrowed them, kind of, and have to get them back in one piece if you know what I mean. Now get moving.  I’ll go to the file room and grab a few boxes just in case this goes south.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Just speaking from experience with you, darling.”

Now back to writing. I have 14 more days, and still almost 30,000 words to write.

Until next time


Sunday, November 9, 2014

Help me welcome Sandra Jones as we celebrate her new release, Her wicked Captain.

Her Wicked Captain
River Rogues #1
By: Sandra Jones
Releasing November 4, 2014
Samhain Publishing

She played right into his hands.
Possessing uncanny people-reading skills like her mama, Philadelphia “Dell” Samuels has spent thirteen years in her aunt’s rustic Ozarks home, telling fortunes over playing cards and trying to pass as white. But the treacherous Mississippi River childhood her mama dragged her away from finally catches up to her on a steamboat captained by her old friend Rory Campbell.
Known to his crew as the Devil’s Henchman, Rory is a gambler in need of a miracle. Following the cold trail of his boss’s wife and bastard daughter, Dell, Rory has only one goal in mind: saving his crew from the boss’s cruelty by ruining him. The only one who can defeat the Monster of the Mississippi is the man trained to take his place. Rory’s convinced he can lure his boss into a high-stakes game against a rival, and with Dell’s people-reading skills, the monster will lose everything.
Under Rory’s tutelage and protection, Dell agrees to the tortured captain’s plan. Passion and peril quickly bring them together as lovers. But when Rory’s plan goes awry, the lives of the innocent depend on Dell’s ability to read the situation correctly—and hopefully save them all.


If he hadn’t introduced himself, Dell wouldn’t have recognized him. Her childhood memories came in spurts and flickers like sparks drifting up from a burning log, to vanish into the void of a black sky. She recalled how big everything had seemed—her mama’s dressing room, the nice bed where she slept the day away, and the giant paddle wheels as the steamboats came into port. How the kids would come running from the city streets to gather around each arriving ship like a swarm of giddy flies, and the older girls would wave at her friend—her playmate, Rory.
“Gory Rory. You ate a pollywog catfish? Ew!” She’d once teased. Gory Rory? Had she really called him that?
Presently, the captain’s strong arms went around her as he lifted her over the rail. His hands lingered on her sides a moment past propriety.
Flushing, she stepped aside. “Thank you.”
He winked at her and helped hoist the rest of the party up from the keelboat onto the packet’s leaning deck. Standing behind her cousins, Dell could still feel the branding on her ribs where his hands had touched her. She willed herself not to panic, but her pulse fluttered wildly at the base of her throat. She couldn’t hide, nor could she return to the riverbank, though every second she stood under his nose was another second he might recognize her.
She couldn’t allow that to happen.
The steamboat’s whistle rattled to life, and she jerked as if she’d been shot, grabbing the rail. The deafening roars and metallic tones sounded overhead as she gritted her teeth. She vaguely recalled standing too near as a babe, and now fought the instinct to cover her ears like the wailing brat she’d been back then.
For whatever reason, her mama had moved her hundreds of miles away, leaving their home and her husband, Quintus Moreaux. Now here was his former ward, Rory Campbell, standing more than six foot tall with wide shoulders and a rogue’s grin, less than eight feet away.
He and the freedman gave the final visitor, Mr. Gaskin, a boost onto the boat. The lumber mill owner joked that he’d gladly salvage the boards of the vessel, to which Rory declined with rich laughter and clapped a hand on his back.
The shy Rory that Dell remembered had soft, boyish round cheeks, and wasn’t able to put together more than two words around her pretty mother. The confident man standing before them now wore a shadow of golden whiskers on a rigid jaw, but he had the same eyes, the color of green bottle glass lit by sunlight. While the others headed for the bow, her former friend singled her out, sharing his infectious smile.
He bowed slightly, gesturing with his hat. “Ladies first.”
Dell ran unsteady hands down the pleats of her dusty clothes to chase away the twinges of her stomach. She mustn’t call attention to herself. If she lost her composure, he would surely figure out she was Eleanor’s bastard daughter, fathered by one of Moreaux’s black workers. One word from him about her mixed blood, and the town would turn on her.
“Thank you,” she murmured again and glided past, keeping her head down. She felt his measuring gaze, and her chest heated in response.
Sarah and Nathaniel were just steps ahead with the preacher, weaving from the rail, straining to see as much of the vessel as possible. Dell hurried to catch up. Rory’s tread creaked ominously on the deck behind her.

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Author Info
Historical romance author Sandra Jones was born and raised in Arkansas. She loves living in a cabin overlooking White River where she enjoys watching eagles and dreaming about the adventurous frontiersmen who once traveled past in steamboats. When she’s not reading, writing or researching, she’s the cook for her cranky old tom cat, her husband of more than 25 years, and her two grown sons. She also loves to chat with her fans.

Author Links



Saturday, November 1, 2014

It's that time again...NaNowriMo

It's that time again and this year I'm going to be very busy. I plan on completing three projects:

1. Finishing my edits on the stories I pitched last month at the conference so I can submit them. 

Last Chance to Run:
What if you found out the daughter you buried was alive and being held captive by a man you thought you killed?
Ron Daily gave everything he had to the FBI. It was his life since his daughter’s death. Then his world crashed in around him when he’s told the terrorist he thought he destroyed staged her death. As obstacles mount against his daughter, he forms an alliance with another agent, a stubborn redhead with links to a secret from his past. Can he fight feelings for a woman that will never love him once she finds out the truth? 
2. Complete the edits on my YA, If I Knew Then and send them back to my publisher

Angel dreamed of a life of freedom. One filled with love that didn’t come with a price.  She hid the pain until Jax entered her life. Can he give her what she needs to let go of the past or will he leave her with a bigger challenge that will change her future?

Angel fought to keep her family safe from the evil that threatened to destroy her. She made sure she was always the one in front of her sisters when her Mother yielded her wrath. Always keeping the danger that surrounded them a secret.To lessen the blow , she lived a lie that everyone believed, except for one. He was her only source of happiness until one day he was gone. With nothing left, and no one to turn to, she must outrun her past, and overcome the secret that she fights to hide, before her Mother destroys everything she has left to hold on to. 
3. Finish writing my romantic comedy, Leather Chaps and Forgotten Promises. Yes, it is a comedy, but laced with a lot of heat.
Romantic Comedy of a Champion Bull rider who had it all until he met Rose Red. After 7 second his life was over. He buried his pain at the bottom of a bottle until the PBR made him an ultimatum. Straighten up or they were putting him out to pasture for good. He knew what he needed to do, and who he needed to go to for help but the last time he saw her she was crying, and he caused the tears. 
So if it seems like I'm ignoring you, I am, but don't take it personal.

Good luck to everyone who is doing NaNo this month. I will cheer you along as we fight to reach those two magic words...The End. And If you're not then I will visit with you when this wild roller coaster is over.

                Happy Writing to all

Friday, October 3, 2014

Yes I've made mistakes, But I've learned so much along the way.

          This month is my Third Anniversary as a Writer.

And I love writing more today, then I did then. 
I struggled in the beginning, and made many mistakes. I had a story I wanted to tell, but no idea how to do it. So I sat down and wrote it out. Once I was finished I felt accomplished. 
 I wrote a story! 
I thought that's how you did it. Was I ever surprised to find out that was just the beginning, and the easy part.
I needed direction. I thought you wrote a book, celebrated your accomplishment, then sent it to a publisher for a contract. 
Well, a few things from my past came back to haunt me. 
Like ninth grade English. 
Yes, Comma's hated me, 
They still do, and so did Grammar. I realized that I had 298 pages of horrible grammar mistakes which made my story difficult to read.
After many review courses, and reading a lot of refresher books, my story fell into a publisher hands and a contract was offered. 

I was a happy girl, I felt energized so I dived into spreading the word. I made a blog, a website and joined all the other social media links I could find. I pushed my facebook page, and joined all the groups I could.  Spent hours every night building my name. Excepted all the invitations that were sent to me and before I knew it I was falling behind.
I tried to be everywhere, marketing with everyone who would have me. This set me up for missed blog posts, late radio spots and authors who were losing their faith in my ability to be dependable. 
My mistakes were destroying my focus on writing and made marketing harder than what it should have been. I finally saw my numbers drop and knew I needed to do one thing...

I found myself spinning my wheels and not able to write, so I scaled back and took a long, hard look at what I was doing.
I soon realized I stopped doing the one thing I needed to do to get my book noticed.
I was in my second year when I figured this out. I looked back at the newbie mistakes and made some much needed changes. First one was to realize life was a series of juggling acts.

 Everything  had to balance. I had to find the right formula to make it work so that my writing fit. I have an active family, very busy job and sometimes life just got in the way, which left me exhausted. I  needed to find a way to fit it all into 24 hours without feeling guilty if I missed something.
It's been three years now and I can finally say I don't have all the         answers, and everyday is not going to go as I planned.

                            To Quote Else...'I just let it go.'  
I now spend my days working, and my nights writing. I am more relaxed, and make fewer mistakes. I am re-building some bridges I destroyed when I was trying to be everywhere and I'm loving the fact that I can do now, what I set out to do three years ago....
                                      Write a story.

I have completed three stories, Rescued from the Dark. A romantic suspense
Saving Angel, a contemporary romance in the Anthology, Wild at Heart.
The Christmas Contract, a contemporary romance in the Anthology, A Touch of Winter.     
These are available on Amazon, with other links listed on my web page

My next story will be out early 2015.  If I knew Then, a YA, is a story of a young girl who survives against abuse from hands that should have only shown love. 
Her strength will make you laugh, cry and you will cheer her on all the way to the end.

So Happy Anniversary to me. Help me celebrate my three years with a toast of good cheer, and many more years of doing what makes me happy....

                               Writing my next story

Until Next time

Friday, September 12, 2014

Why I want to grow up and be Stephen King, even though I can't read his books.

                Let me start by saying I love Stephen King.

He's a talented, gifted writer, and an amazing person. But I have yet to read one of his books to the end. 
                      They scare the daylights out of me.
It's not that I haven't tried. I have. I even own eight of them. His writing is just so descriptive, and realistic, that I end up with nightmares. Who wants to have clowns invade your dreams, or have a car chase you into a nightmare from hell.

As a writer I strive to be just like him. His readers are loyal and they count the days until his next one is released. I know, I live with one. 

I want to have a shelf like this one filled with my books some day.

Stephen King knows his craft. His books are well written and show the long hours he puts into them with the physical and emotional details in each one. 

                                 Great words to live by. 
The best advice I got when I started to write was that I should do this because it was something that I loved to do, not something that I had to do. 

This is also true. I'm an avid reader. To me it's a tool to better my craft. But my reading choices are contemporary romance and suspense. Sorry Stephen, nothing on my list that will keep me up at night, or hiding under the covers when the door squeaks open.

One day I hope to meet this great man to tell him I admire his ability to scare us to death and that I want to be a writer just like him. Until then I will continue to write, build my library, and improve my skills so that someday someone will want to grow up to be just like me.

And since this is his Birthday month I want to wish Stephen a very Happy, Happy Birthday.

Thanks for stopping by. I have two more books coming out this year. I can promise you a few more sleepless night, but with happy dreams.

 Last Chance to Run, Romantic Suspense

What if you found out the daughter you buried was alive and being held captive by a man you thought you killed?

If I knew then, Young Adult

Angel dreamed of a life of freedom. One filled with love that didn't come with a price.  She hid the pain until Jax entered her life. Can he give her what she needs to let go of the past or will he leave her with a bigger challenge that will change her future?

Lynda Kaye Frazier
Twitter- lynda_kaye 
Amazon Author page:

Writing is my passion, Reading is my Love.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Help me welcome Cynthia D' Alba here today as she celebrates her new release, Texas Twist.

Texas Twist
Texas Montgomery Mavericks # 4
By: Cynthia D’Alba
Releasing September 2nd, 2014
Samhain Publishing


Real bad boys can grow up to be real good men.
Hit hard by the death of her parents, Paige Ryan needs to figure out what to do with her life. She moves to Whispering Springs, Texas, to be near her step-brother. But just as she starts to get her life on track, the last man she ever wanted to see again sends it right back off the rails.
Cash Montgomery was on the cusp of having it all. Three bull riding titles, fame, fortune and respect from his family. Until a bad bull leaves him injured, angry and searching for comfort at the bottom of a bottle. With nowhere to go, he moves into his sister-in-law’s old ranch house in Whispering Springs—which he’s surprised to find already occupied.
As Cash rebuilds the dilapidated home and Paige starts out on her medical career, their old friendship begins to reemerge and sparks are ignited. Paige knows that Cash is nothing but a heartache waiting to happen. But maybe this bad boy has grown up to be a real good man?
Warning: Watch out for falling lumber, falling in holes, and falling for the wrong guy…again. You can leave your hard hat on.

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Author Info
Award winning author Cynthia D’Alba was born and raised in Arkansas. After being gone for seventeen years, she’s thrilled to be back home living on the banks of an eight-thousand acre lake. When she’s not reading, writing or plotting, she’s doorman for her two dogs, cook, housekeeper and chief bottle washer for her husband and slave to a noisy, messy parrot. She loves to chat online with friends and fans.

Author Links

Rafflecopter Giveaway (Please See Rafflecopter for Description (Tons of Goodies))

1.      “Here’s the deal, slick,” she said with a lift of an eyebrow. “I’m still attracted to you and, if I’m reading your kisses accurately, the feeling is mutual.” She sat back on her heels with a sigh. “I want to finish what we started seven years ago. Don’t freak out,” she added quickly when he opened his mouth to speak. “I’m not looking for long-term or asking for a commitment. Come fall, school’s going to be time consuming and tough. I won’t have the time or the energy for a relationship.” She shrugged. “So for as long as it lasts, I propose roommates with benefits. What do you say?”

Before I decide one way or the other, I want to make sure we’re clear on a few points. We have no future. There is no us. No long-term happy-ever-after. This isn’t a fairy tale, Paige. It’s real life.” He hated sounding so hard, so brusque, but she had to understand he had nothing to offer her. “If we do this, it’s just sex. Not making love or any other pretty label you might want to put on it. If it lasts through the summer, fine. We’ll go our separate ways when you leave for school. If either of us wants out before then, it’s over. No questions. No tears. No regrets

Monday, August 11, 2014

Don't let Depression kill your creativity, and steal away your life.

                     As I write this post, my heart is breaking. we lost an amazing Actor today. 
                              Some say he committed suicide, I say Depression killed him.

Discussing Depression is like talking about Politics or Religion. Everyone has an opinion. Some see it as an excuse, others see it as a true medical condition.
When I'm asked if I think depression is a real, I ask them if they think Chronic fatigue is, or even Postpartum illnesses. 
                                         You can't see them, but they can be felt.
Whether it's physical, or mental, it's still pain. and it can destroy your will to go on. I know. I've had friends battle this, and family members that have fought, and won.
                                  But not everyone is lucky enough to say they survived depression.
I'm a writer because I love to tell stories, but my first love has always been the medical field. I was raised around my Grandmother, who was a nurse, and have worked in hospitals since I was 15. And let me tell you that was a long time ago.
I have seen patients battle their way through horrific accidents, horrible life stealing diseases and silent killers.
We fight with them. Support them during their struggles and celebrate their triumphs. 
                                           But we treat depression like it's taboo.

 I've heard many say they're not sick, they're faking it. 
Do we tell patients that hurt all over for no diagnostic reason that they're faking it? No we don't. We do what ever we can to find them some help.
We need to do the same for those with an emotional, or mental illness. They hurt just like everyone else, they just can't take a pain killer and make it all go away.
We have pointed our finger and told them to get over it. Just get up and go out, you'll feel better. Don't dwell on things, it will go away, just give it time. 
None of this works. It just makes the person paint on a fake smile and show us what we want to see. They learn to hide their problems and go through the motions of a "Normal" person. Then one day they don't have what it takes to put that smile on, and they see only one thing that will help. Then we lose them forever.
                                                            This needs to stop. 

                                        Depression is real. 
We stand behind Cancer, MS and so many other diseases. Now let's add Depression to that list.
Let's take the conversation to the streets. Get it out of the dark closet and show those who suffer that there is light at the end of the tunnel. 

                                 Show them we are here to help, no matter what they need.
Don't tell them you're sorry, show them by listening, not criticizing. Don't tell them to get up, help them with support during their dark days. And don't tell them to shake it off, it will go away, because it won't.

Depression can be treated. Some may need medication, others counseling. No matter what, it's out there and it is our job to make Depression something to talk about.

Lets prove to the friend that's sad, the family member that lost their spark that you're there. Support them, help them. Show them that life would not be the same without them.  

                          Robin Williams, you left us before we were ready to let you go. 

     You brought happiness to so many when they felt trapped in the dark with your humor. 

      You will be missed. But your death helped open our eyes, and so many closed minds.

Thank you for stopping by and letting me vent. Sometimes having someone listen is all someone needs.

Lynda Kaye Frazier
Twitter- lynda_kaye
Amazon Author page:
Writing is my passion, Reading is my Love.