So since I’m it, let’s get to it!

• What’s the title/working title of your latest book?

For those that are following, we’ll do SHADOW’S MOON, because I’m keeping my current WIP under wraps for a bit.

• Where did the idea for the book come from?

This will be the third in the Kyn Kronicles, but this time I decided to leave Raine and Gavin alone to take advantage of some downtime.  Instead I got caught up in Xander and Warrick’s relationship. I’ve always loved the concept of magic and the supernatural existing alongside reality, so the world I created has some dark corners that you don’t want to face without a sharp, pointy object. For SHADOW’S MOON, I wanted to explore the relationship between the most dominant male wolf in the Northwest and his top female enforcer, Xander.  What happens when two strong personalities meet? Do they bend, break or create something new? SHADOW’S MOON continues the twists and turns of the Kyn universe, but also allows the readers a chance to see the world through the eyes of the Shifter House.  Plus the sparks from Xander and Warrick were a blast to maneuver through.

• What genre does your book fall under?

Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy

• What’s a one sentence synopsis for your book?

•  How long did it take to write the first draft of the manuscript?

It took me about 4 1/2 to 5 months to get through the first draft.  Then another month or so to fine tune it.

• Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

         Currently it is under consideration by a handful of publishing houses/agencies, so fingers crossed one of them picks it up.

• What other books would you compare this book to in your genre?

Hmmm…think Ilona Andrew’s Kate Daniels series or Patricia Briggs’s Mercy Thompson or Alpha and Omega series. 

Since I like to share the spotlight, here are my “MUST READ” new authors! Swing on over and check them out!

Mona Karel

Liv Rancourt

Amber Kallyn

Lynn Rush

This being said, I recently decided to research one of my beloved authors.  I was surprised to find how snarky she could be in her question and answer page, but I was also relieved to find that she seemed honest about herself and her experiences.  And most of all, I was shocked to find out that she only works with a rough outline for her books.  I thought with all the intricate details, she must map her books out entirely before writing them.  It seems though, she actually hates going into too much detail with her book outines in the beginning, because then she feels like she has already written her book.  She actually just spends a great deal of time editing and revising, I gathered.

This might not seem like a very significant bit of information, but it was a huge relief to me.  I write in a very similar style.  I create a character, and outline, and world information.  Then, I start writing.  Things often change as the story develops, but all of this actually leads to a need for a lot of editing and revising.  It is daunting to finish a book and still have so much work to do, but it eases my mind a great deal to know that a writer I admire so much also has such a daunting task, and creates such spectacular books through this process.

She really doesn’t sleep much.

Try not to scare her away!

If you were to hold a dinner party for six, who would you invite and share at least one question you would have for each? Your guests don’t have to be alive and if you really want to make it fun, you can use favorite fictional characters.

I’m assuming my guests would be functionally alive for the duration of the party, at least, or we’re potentially sitting at the table with a bunch of corpses, and that would be…bad.  Very, very bad.

I don’t know, Seanan, Eerie’s Zombies tend to have some table manners.  We have managed to keep them from leaving pieces behind or leaking over the table.

So I would invite Stephen King and ask him about language; James Gunn and ask him about what he would have done in Slither II; Andrew Volpe and ask him about music; Walt Disney and ask him about imagination; and my friends Michelle “Vixy” Dockrey and Catherynne Valente, because seriously, if I had a dinner party with those people and didn’t invite Cat and Vixy, they would have a keep-away party with my internal organs.

 You might need to set a few extra spots, I think Eerie may crash your dinner party and I would be the plus one…

As children we tend to have an idea of what we want to be by the time we’re ten.  Before you decided to pursue the artistic dream of being a writer, what did you want to be and why?

I actually wanted to be a Broadway performer when I was younger!  I did years of voice and dance lessons, and appeared in quite a few productions here on the West Coast.  Sadly, a spinal injury took dancing off the table, and I was forced to refocus my ambitions.

That totally sucks, but on the positive side, we get to go on adventures with Toby and the Price family!

If your character(s) came with a warning label, what would it say?

Warning: Contents under pressure.  Contains language.  Some concepts may be too complicated for after-midnight reading.  Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.

                  *makes note to find out story behind Happy Fun Ball*

If you turned your laptop/computer/pen/typewriter (yes, some of still use these!) over to your character(s), how would they describe you?

…oh.  Oh, that would end poorly.  “Die die die die die die bitch die die die” is probably the more socially acceptable part of that little screed.

                                 *snort* I think a few of mine would jump all over that band wagon, complete with a burning effigy.

We all have favorite characters, either main or secondary, and there are always bits and pieces of them we don’t share with our readers, but keep close to our hearts.  Choose your favorite from your cast of characters and tell us a couple of things that you haven’t shared in your books/writing.

Since all my series are ongoing, I actually intend to share most things, given sufficient time.  It’s one of the nice parts of being a series author (although I very much envy people who can think in stand-alones).  Quentin, from the Toby Daye books, loves hockey.  He’s a good Canadian boy and he appreciates his nation’s favorite pastime.  He actually has fantasies about getting Toby to a hockey game and watching her expression when she realizes that blood will bounce on ice.

                                    That’s kind of cool, I hadn’t imagine Quentin into Hockey, basketball..not the nice one, but street style…very cool…

Personally, I tend to be a bit on the introverted side so the thought of being in the actual presence of one of my favorite writers makes my heart race, my knees shake and tangles my tongue (yes classic fan girl behavior).  Who could reduce you to such a level and how do you imagine your initial meeting?

Stephen King, definitely.  I fully expect to lose the power of coherent speech if I ever manage to meet him.  I think if we do meet, it will be through the efforts of a mutual friend, who will stand there and laugh as I stare and whimper.

                                   Maybe you can prepare pre written signs a la the Roadrunner?

Growing up, what was your favorite book, comic, game or movie and did you create a character/player that might resemble you?

You actually asked the self-insert character question!  I salute you.  I used to tell myself stories where I’d get to meet my favorite characters, but I never committed any of them to paper.  My favorite movie growing up was Little Shop of Horrors, and I actually never did a self-insert there, although I’ve been in the musical seven times, and have played every female character except for Audrey.

                                  Here I thought it was just me who was strange enough to do this, but I think it’s like training wheels for writers, playwrights, actors…

Many writers have that first novel which will never see the light of day. Out of curiosity, do you have one stashed somewhere?  Inquiring minds want to know: what was  your first attempt at writing and how old were you?

My first serious attempt at writing was a fourteen-page essay when I was nine, explaining to my mother why she had to let me read Stephen King.  It had footnotes and a bibliography.  I finished my first book when I was twelve.  It was called Dracula’s Castle, and if I knew where it was, I’d probably put it online.

                                      Since my Prankster Duo would do something like this, I have to ask, did she let you read it?

Whether we’re plotters or pantsers (outlines not needed), creating our stories takes us on very memorable journeys.  Sometimes we may be part way through before we realize some major aspect of our story is just not working (plot, character, setting).  Have you ever hit this sharp, pointy snag and if so, how did you escape? We’re you battered and bruised or a bloody mess?

When in doubt, blow shit up.

                                      Niiiiceeee….

Share one uniquely strange experience you’ve had that remains crystal clear to this day.

I worked for the phone company for a while as a process engineer, and there was one summer where they sent me everywhere.  I had almost no time at home or with my cats, and I was exhausted.  I stopped enjoying travel, and I started having travel troubles for the first time in my life.  Then, when I arrived in Florida after a bad flight, I got picked up by a black van at the taxi stand, and the driver kept pointing out things that weren’t normal tourist things, like the gator farms and where the good movie theaters were.  Just as we reached my hotel, he looked at me in the rearview and said, “You’ve been having a bad time lately.  Some bad trips.  But don’t worry.  That’s all over now.”  And he was right.  Things got better after that.

                                            How cool is that?

What’s some of the funniest/sweetest/strangest things you’ve heard from your readers?

I have the best readers.  A lot of them have named cats after my characters, which I take as high praise.  And one reader’s seven-year-old memorized a song of mine, “Wicked Girls,” when she had to take a poem to her first grade class.  I consider that the sweetest thing ever.

                                          Wow! A poem? That is truly the best thing ever!

What’s the one genre you won’t ever try and why?

Probably military sci-fi.  I don’t have the background, and I would have real trouble with the details.

What is some of the best advice you were ever given?

Never measure yourself against anyone else.  Their stories aren’t yours to tell, and guess what?  Your stories aren’t theirs.

                                               I’ll have to remember this one…

What is the best advice you can share with others?

Read.  Write.  Revise.  Don’t read the comments, ever.  Play nicely with the other children, even if you don’t like them.  Nastiness never did any long-term good.  Support your peers; someday you may need them to support you.  Success is not a zero-sum game.  Your story is not done.

And now for the bullet questions you all love…are you ready?

Blades, guns, fists or feet?

Tank.

Favorite Fairy Tale of all time?

The Three Sisters, variant four, happy ending version, AT tale type 713-b.

Three titles and their authors sitting on your nightstand/bookcase/table/floor waiting to be read?

              Crops and Robbers, by Paige Shelton; Forbidden, by Kelley Armstrong; Virus X, by Frank Ryan.

Greatest one liner of all time?

“Bet you wish you’d gone to Hollywood with me now, don’t you, Bill?”

Sarcastic witticism, Southern sweetness or Geeky disdain?

Sarcasm, all the way.

Strangest item currently taking up space in your writing cave?

My 20+ pound blue classic tabby and white Maine Coon, Alice.

Favorite supernatural creature?

It varies from day to day.  Right now, the mermaid.

A big, huge thank you to Seanan for taking the time to be with us today. She’s definitely help add a little pizzaz to our place!  Want more Seanan McGuire? Don’t fret, her latest release is Midnight Blue-Light Special, the second book in her InCryptid series.  These urban fantasy cryptozoology adventures follow the Price family as they do their best not to get eaten by anything unpleasant.  The series began with Discount Armageddon, and there are several free short stories on Seanan’s website, at www.seananmcguire.com.

Reading is also usually a really pleasant way to pass my time, except that I’ve started reading some books written by an absolutely exceptional author who makes me feel motivated to write more.  The way she creates her world and her people is on a level that is awe-inspiring.  It makes me wonder how she created it all.  Did she spend months and months just mapping out her world and how it worked before ever putting pen to paper?  Or did she start writing a story and the world just came together for her?

The new idea I’ve been working on, that’s supposed to be my fun break from editing, now makes me pause.  I wonder if I should be mapping this world out carefully before writing, or just enjoying writing.

It’s all just a complicated mess where all roads lead right back to me not writing.  But, at least, in talking to my fellow writers, I’m not alone in my struggles to stay focused on my work.

Humans are like animals… which is what everyone and your priest wants to tell you. What is really true is that humans are animals, and we’re all guilty of trying to think otherwise. Putting ourselves on the level of mere dogs is insulting. Just look at them. Rolling around in the mud, tongues lolling about, their blatant disregard for cleanliness. But when you scold them, and if they respect you, they all do the same thing. They lower their eyes.

What does a child do when his mother catches him with his hand in the cookie jar? Lower his eyes. What does a man do when the woman he loves catches him doing something she told him not to? Drop that gaze to the floor.

“Sorry sweetie, I didn’t mean it…”

Likely story.

But look at the similarities. Look how instinctive it is to show submission to another. As animals, we know when to act humbly and when to act strong. When that bad guy in a ski-mask comes snatching your special lady’s purse and you chase him down, that’s just you being dominant. And that’s great, especially if you were the same guy who just apologized to his wife for taking a huge scoop out of her freshly-made blueberry pie when she explicitly told you not to.

Humans can be both.

It’s just more interesting when you figure out which one you are more inclined toward.

And that my friends, is a whole other post.

Wicked: *shoving Might’s duffle on to the back of the lopsided jackass*  Why the hell are you going to the Windy City? Between the Werewolf Monks and Eerie’s Free Range Zombies, I would’ve thought we had enough drama for you.

Mighty:*stashing her Staff of Bull Shark Repellent*  You know how it is, money’s a little tight and those Bull Sharks aren’t going to leave the lake any time soon. I’m just going to make sure they don’t pass beyond where they’re allowed.

Snarky: *lazily curling and uncurling her whip*  I can whip them into shape.

Mighty: *look of indulgent disdain*  Your whip is not going to reach.

*Overhead Mischievous calls out*:  Hey Mighty, you ready to lose a few fingers and toes?  The temps over there will keep you in deep freeze.  *He cackles at his lame attempt at humor*

Mighty: *rolling her eyes across the road. Picks them up and puts them back in*:  That bird would be great fried.

Wicked: *grinning in agreement, even as the Prankster Duo comment on Mighty’s gory trick*  Yeah, but I think Eerie might take exception to our meal plans.

Eerie: *taking his Free Range Zombies for a walk with chains and a pointy stick*  What meal plans? The Werewolf Monks have been promising me a new vintage, I could pester them for it.

*A cloud of smoke drifts over* Smokey: “Just took down a mastodon over by Swamp Thing’s place. It’s been smoking nicely for the last few days. I’ll have my Spicy Bit bring it over. We don’t want you heading off without a full belly, Mighty.

Quirky: *practicing knots with some newly purchased ropes*  The Muses headed out a few hours ago, so we could probably hang over at Filet Your Own Deli without worrying about another knock down drag out argument over the use of details or lack thereof.

Dreamer *arms full of colorful blooms and Angel Boy fluttering around her ankles*  What about your cabin, Mighty? Do you need someone to pop in and keep an eye on things for you?

Mighty: *the smirk we all know and love but have learned to be wary of appears* Nah, I forgot to mention I found someone to cabin sit while I’m gone.  That way it’ll still be standing, Zombie Free, when I get back.

Dreamer *beatific smile appears* It’s so nice to have new blood in the community.  So much to play with…*a small blush*  I mean, perhaps they’ll have new playmates for Angel Boy.  *Turns to Wicked and Snarky*  No offense girls, but I believe your progeny may be perhaps a bit too adventurous for mine right now.

Wicked & Snarky exchange high fives.  

Wicked: None taken…

Snarky:  So this new peep.  What’s the deal? Who are they? Where are they from? Most importantly, can they pass the Swamp Entry Exam?

*A loud pop and a blue telephone booth appears and settles in the road. Red Dwarf steps out* 

Red: Good eve, all, I thought I’d pop in before tea to bid Mighty adieu.  

*A small blond races from behind Red and joins forces with the Prankster Duo, where upon a discussion of how Yoda took down Darth in this year’s Star Wars March Madness*

Red: Did I hear something about an entrance exam? I thought we’d straightened that out months ago.  Besides, I don’t see any dead bodies lying around. Everyone’s here–Snarky, Wicked, Smokey, Quirky, Eerie, Dreamer, Mighty, myself…doesn’t that put us one over?

Eerie *capturing a wondering single hand and wrestling it back in line*  Even though you’re over the Pond and Mighty will soon be in the Land of Winds and You-betchas, we’ve decided to allow one more individual into the group.

Quirky:  We did? When?

Wicked: It was during the brawl over at the Kilted Ferret pub when we had to hold off that damn Molly and her two henchboys from Eerie’s Three Misfiteers.  

Quirky: *flying fingers and rope pause before continuing their dizzy dance*  Oh yeah.  So, who is the new person?

Mighty: *tossing another package on top of the lopsided jackass* I’d introduce you all, but she’s been here the whole time, so I ‘ll let her do the honors.

*All seven dwarves start checking out their surroundings*

Eerie: Short? Tall? Gnome? Troll? What exactly are we looking for here? And a name would be good.

*Mighty smiles and continues to finish her packing*

*From behind him a shadow separates and forms into a petite, lithe form*  Names are not to be given lightly, small man.

Eerie: *huffs up to his full three foot one inch height* Who you calling small?

Wicked: *arms folded so knives are in easy reach* Nice move there, I need to introduce you to Raine.

Snarky: *lets her whip snap, crackle and pop*  And you would be…

*Shadow girl drops a very elegant bow* I am called Ninja Dwarf.

Quirky: *looking intrigues*  Wow! Totally cool, we get our very own ninja!

Buy Links:  Amazon     B&N     Smashwords    Kobo    (Coming soon to Apple/ITunes)

Blurb:

When a mortal cop must delve into the paranormal, only a Viking vampire can save her soul, and her heart.

Detective Celeste Wilder knows who she is, a damn fine cop. But when the recently dubbed ‘Cult Murders’ start back up, this time targeting city prostitutes she’s sworn to protect, she’s thrown into a world of paranormal creatures she never believed existed. And now, they’re out to keep her from uncovering even more secrets.

An immortal Viking vampire, Brandon Wulfgar knows something is strange the moment he sees Celeste valiantly fighting for her life against a group of rogue vampires. When he’s asked to work with her–solve the crime while keeping the mortal woman safe–he figures no problem.

But as the undeniable connection between them grows and danger appears from every side, they will have to trust one another not just for their lives, but for their very souls.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Brandon Wulfgar sat stiffly on the icy metal chair. He took a hefty gulp of his drink–a mix of blood and whiskey–never glancing away from his twin brother. Eric lay in the bed, facing the stone wall of the dungeon room. He mumbled in his dreams, the quiet mutterings occasionally punctuated by short, guttural screams. Was he reliving the painful past they’d shared, or that of Eric’s own more recent tortures?

The room stank of cold sweat, permeated by fear and agony.

Brandon’s hands clenched and the mug cracked. It crashed to the floor, shattering.

He stared at the white shards of ceramic covered in crimson. The sight mirrored how he felt, unable to help his brother pick up the pieces and leave the darkness he’d descended into.

With a sigh, he stood and headed for the hall. His king’s new wife was going to be pissed he’d broken yet another cup. He snorted, the sound lacking any amusement. Dalia would just have to deal with it.

He opened the door, then stopped short.

Dalia stood in the hall, arms crossed, tapping her foot. Her short pink-streaked blonde hair settled around her pointed chin and her green eyes flared, vampire-red circling the irises. “Again?” she demanded.

It didn’t matter he dwarfed her with his six-foot-four height, nor that he was ten times stronger. All she had to do was shoot that look of hers and even the strongest of the vampire warriors living in the castle crumbled as if facing a disappointed mother.

Brandon merely shrugged. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Yeah, right.” Her gaze softened as she looked past him to Eric. “No change?”

“None.”

She straightened, rubbing her hands together. “Jordan wants to talk to you. I’ll sit with your brother. And I’ll clean up the poor cup. Again.” Shooting him an ironic look, she added, “We’re almost out of dishes.”

It wasn’t true, but she had a point. He’d gone through an awful lot of mugs lately. But it wasn’t on purpose.

As the older twin, albeit only by five minutes, he’d been raised to protect his brother. To fight the world, side-by-side. Yet he was failing miserably, unable to draw Eric from the cocoon of sleep where he’d escaped.

Dalia entered the dungeon room, and leaving the thick metal door open a bit, sat in the chair Brandon had vacated. She leaned back, hands folded in her lap and started humming. Her voice was soft and airy, a sound guaranteed to get soul-deep inside anyone listening and make them feel better.

As an Omega, she could calm people’s ragged emotions. More recently, with her magic growing, she no longer needed to look into their eyes to gain that connection. Her voice could suck anyone in when she tried.

Brandon’s shoulders tightened when her voice brought no reaction from Eric. It took most of his will to leave, but he forced himself to walk down the icy hallway, and upstairs to his king’s chamber.

Inside, Jordan reclined in a chair, facing the fireplace. The man held a glass of amber-colored liquid. A second full glass sat on the table beside him.

“Sit for a while,” Jordan stated, his Scottish brogue thicker than normal.

Brandon twitched at the tension in Jordan’s voice, and crossed the room to the waiting chair on the other side of the table.

“Any change with Eric?” Jordan lifted his drink and sipped, trying to act casual as he ran a hand through his short blond hair.

Taking his own glass, Brandon gulped it down. The smooth whiskey burned his throat, then settled warmly in his gut. “No.”

Jordan sighed, shifting to face Brandon fully.

Trepidation filled him. The man was normally direct.

“The ‘cult killings’ have started once more in the city,” Jordan said, his gaze dark with anger and confusion.

“But Connor killed the demon behind them just a few weeks ago,” Brandon protested.

“Aye. Yet, here we are.”

Brandon set his empty glass back on the table before he broke that one too. “So is Connor returning?”

“He’s busy with something else.”

“What? His refound family?”

“Nay. Something for the Magic Council.”

Considering the man was a Judge for the council, it shouldn’t be surprising. “So they’re not sending him back?”

“Not now.”

A sinking suspicion crawled into his gut. “Then who are you sending to investigate?”

Jordan just stared at him.

Jumping to his feet, Brandon paced to the fireplace. “I can’t go. Eric needs me–”

Jordan’s voice broke through his agitation. “Needs you? He hasn’t said two words in the last month. He doesn’t respond to anything we try.” He stood, arms behind his back, as Brandon paced. “Someone has to take care of the problem. If it’s another demon, you’re the only one I can send.”

Anger turned his stomach, bile burned up his chest. “I can’t leave my brother.”

Jordan’s voice cracked like steel. “You’ll tell me no?”

Stopping short, Brandon slowly swung around and met his king’s blazing red gaze. He’d never told Jordan “no,” since the man had rescued both him and Eric from living agony. But to leave his brother…

The tension in his shoulders ached. His chest tightened and he gave his king the only answer he could. “When do I leave?”

 ***

 In the lingering heat of the evening, Celeste Wilder strode from her unmarked car towards the flashing lights shining from the alley. Near the yellow police tape, cameras flashed as bystanders tried to capture anything interesting they could put online or sell to the news.

Whipping back her long black hair, she muttered under her breath, “Mierda! Gotta start keeping a damn hair tie in the car.”

One of these days, she was actually going to remember, so when she was called into a crime scene unexpectedly, she didn’t have to deal with the looks she was getting now. It was difficult enough being a female detective without flaunting her femininity. More importantly, it got in the way.

Like usual in Arizona, the weather had bypassed spring entirely. Sweat dampened her neck, making her loose curls cling uncomfortably to her skin.

“Daily, let me in,” she growled at the nearest officer blocking the alley.

He hurried to pull back one of the sawhorses. “Yes, ma’am.”

She pushed past him, taking in the scene. Phoenix PD officers guarded the sight from the lookie-loos, while the coroner hunched over a body only partly hidden behind a rusty dumpster. Overlaying the scent of rotting garbage, she caught the distinct coppery odor of fresh blood.

“Who was first on scene?” she demanded from an obvious rookie as he nervously flicked his notepad open and shut.

“Um, I was, detective, um, ma’am.”

She read his name-tag. “All right, Portensky. Details.”

He fumbled open the notebook, nearly dropping it. “The call came in at 8:02 p.m. I was dispatched, and arrived at 8:09. I didn’t see anything at first.” The kid paled, swallowed hard, then continued. “Then I smelled it.”

“Any information on the caller?” She studied how the dumpster had been pulled away from the wall. Black and red lines of wax snaked from the brick to the center of the alley.

“No, ma’am. Distorted voice, barely clear. Dispatcher said she wasn’t sure she’d even heard the address right.”

“Make sure your report is on my desk by morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hustled toward the street, as if trying to put as much distance between himself and the body.

Unfazed, Celeste headed right for it.

Hovering over the body, the coroner, Frankie, glanced up. Weariness dulled her dark eyes. “Hey, girl. Rough night?”

“About to get worse.”

Frankie sighed, pushing her long bangs from her eyes with the back of her hand, then waved at the body. “No name, no ID.”

“I assume that’s why I was called in. These are my streets,” she replied.

“Sad state this last month, with all these killings.”

Shrugging, Celeste stepped closer. The woman lay mostly exposed, tattered remains of her clothing spread back from her chest. A small piece of red cloth had been draped over her face. Bleach-blonde hair spread around her head, the tips soaked with blood. The killer had taken a knife to her throat and chest.

“Time of death?”

“Her temp is still high. I’d say in the last hour.”

Considering Portensky had been dispatched less than a half-hour ago, it was possible the rumors were true. This cabrón was calling it in before his victim was dead.

Frankie pulled off her gloves. “What kind of sicko mutilates young girls? That’s what I’d like to know.”

“Aren’t they all sickos?” Celeste replied, forcing her emotions away. The victim’s wounds were ragged, as if caused by a serrated weapon. They still hadn’t figured out what the killer was using.

“We’re ready,” Frankie said.

Nodding, she replied, “Go ahead.”

Frankie lifted the red cloth from the body to seal it in an evidence bag.

Celeste’s breath caught, hitching in her tightening throat. “La madre que te parió!” she cursed.

No woman, just a girl.

Baby had been fifteen, max. She’d worked the streets, saying it was better there than at home.

Trying to get these girls into shelters was a trial. Every time Celeste got one off the streets, five more took her place. But Baby had been sweet, mostly clean, not the hardened type Celeste was used to dealing with.

And next week, there was an opening at one of the shelters Celeste worked with that Baby had agreed to enter.

Three damn days.

Swallowing hard against the dark, useless emotions trying to choke her, Celeste forced herself to move, to get on with the job. She noted the wounds and the bruises covering the girl’s face and upper arms. A broken necklace of cheap, brightly colored glass lay discarded near her left hand.

A dark smudge against Baby’s pale skin caught her eye. “What’s that?”

Frankie bent closer, snapping some photos, then gently turned the girl’s hand over.

A black mark had been drawn on her wrist. A question mark with a bar crossing the center of the straight line. Celeste drew a replica in her notebook.

“Didn’t see anything like this on the other bodies,” Frankie said as she took more pictures.

“I didn’t either. They were only left on the walls.” She continued to note the details of the crime scene as the morgue techs wheeled away the body, along with the scattered trash on the ground. They took it all. Anything could hold a clue.

As the other officers dispersed, Celeste stood back and watched. Waited for the scene to clear so she could search for clues. See if she could find more of the strange markings, some sort of runes, like at the other scenes.

As she waited, tapping her foot impatiently, her anger burned hotter.

These “Cult Murders” as the press called them, were supposed to have been solved weeks ago. They had disbanded the taskforce on her captain’s orders.

The city began to breathe easier.

Until a few nights ago, when they’d started up again.

Buy Links:  Amazon     B&N     Smashwords    Kobo    (Coming soon to Apple/ITunes)

Giveaway:

I’ll be giving away a $5 Amazon gift card, INT, Winner to be drawn next week on May 1st at my blog www.AmberKallyn.com

Without further ado, I give you…KELLY MEDING!

If your character(s) came with a warning label, what would it say?  

                         Incurable Sarcasm Ahead: Proceed At Your Own Risk

*hehehehe* I like that one…

If you turned your laptop/computer/pen/typewriter (yes, some of still use these!) over to your character(s), how would they describe you?

             Sadistic. Mean. Overly dramatic. They’d probably accuse me of over-thinking the plot at times.

Oh come on! Don’t they know you could make it so much worse?

We all have favorite characters, either main or secondary, and there are always bits and pieces of them we don’t share with our readers, but keep close to our hearts.  Choose your favorite from your cast of characters and tell us a couple of things that you haven’t shared in your books/writing. 

 This question is fitting, considering Tempest is about to release in April, but one of my favorite characters is Ethan Swift, from the MetaWars books.  I’ve had a soft spot for him since his first appearance in Trance.  He’s the quiet guy with inner strength, who always wants to take care of others before himself. I haven’t shared a great deal of information about him in Trance or Changeling, but he takes center stage in Tempest.  Readers who paid close attention in Changeling figured this out, but since it’s never been plainly spoken/written anywhere, Ethan is gay. Dahlia is the second person to whom he’s ever admitted that, and the third person who finds out in Tempest will probably surprise you.  As for a totally unknown fact, when he was twenty-one, Ethan spent a year as a beach bum in Boynton Beach, Florida, working at a tiki bar for income—a lot of which he spent on sunburn cream.

I can empathize with Ethan, except I don’t know if there’s enough sunburn cream in the world to make sure I don’t resemble a burnt lobster!

Personally, I tend to be a bit on the introverted side so the thought of being in the actual presence of one of my favorite writers makes my heart race, my knees shake and tangles my tongue (yes classic fan girl behavior).  Who could reduce you to such a level and how do you imagine your initial meeting? 

I had a moment like this last year at Authors After Dark: NOLA, when I met Jeaniene Frost for the first time. We’d communicated a few times in the past, and she graciously blurbed Three Days to Dead way back when, but I’m a huge fan. So I admit to being heart-pounding nervous, and I probably babbled a little. But Jeaniene is so sweet and gracious.  The other time it happened was years ago when James Marsters attended a SF convention, and I was briefly in his presence during the autograph session.  I was crazy nervous, because, well, it’s Spike!

Oooohh, Spike and Authors After Dark…there’s two items on my bucket list.  It’s a good thing we’re doing this interview via blog because I’m not sure you’d understand the words tumbling from my mouth, or if they’d even make sense…

And now for our favorite part–bullet questions.  Kelly’s under the gun and fires back…

Blades, guns, fists or feet? 

Blades, all the way. To me, they simply look cooler on screen or drawn in a comic. Guns are too easy. Blades require you to get in close, but they maintain an elegance that fists or feet don’t.

A women after my own heart…

Favorite Fairy Tale of all time? 

For traditional fairy tales, The Little Mermaid. I love the beauty of the mermaid’s sacrifice at the end of the story.

Three titles and their authors sitting on your nightstand/bookcase/table/floor waiting to be read? 

Hitchers, by Will McIntosh (loved, loved, loved Soft Apocalypse, and I can’t wait to read this one); Echoes at Dawn, by Maya Banks (I am crushing on the KGI books right now); Static, by L.A. Witt (her m/m romances rock).

You and me both! I love Maya’s KGI Books!

Greatest one liner of all time? 

I don’t think I could actually narrow that down. There are simply too many.

Sarcastic witticism, Southern sweetness or Geeky disdain?

Sarcastic witticism.

Every time, all the time…

Strangest item currently taking up space in your writing cave?

A little plastic unicorn from Authors After Dark: New Orleans, that I had signed by Allison Pang, Kristen Painter, Kelly Gay, Amanda Carlson, and Carolyn Crane.

Favorite supernatural creature?

Shapeshifters.

Huge Thank You to Kelly for stopping by! Want some more? Check out this peek at TEMPEST, out April 22, 2013 from Pocket Star:

Two months after the discovery of the powerful, non-Meta Recombinants, the former Rangers—Meta-powered humans dedicated to preserving the peace—have made no progress in uncovering the newcomers’ origins, or convincing the public to trust them. Newly powered Metas are popping up and causing trouble, while the former Banes—Metas who harm humans and create chaos—show no inclination that they even want to leave the island prison of Manhattan. With a presidential election looming, the hot political debate is all about Meta rights—and whether they deserve to have any.

Still haunted by the murder of so many in the Meta War fifteen years earlier, Ethan “Tempest” Swift accepts an assignment in Manhattan, working with a team that’s interviewing Banes to determine which are still threats and which have reformed. But Ethan has a personal reason for going to the island as well. Armed with questions for the Bane who just might be his father, Ethan’s quest for answers is interrupted by an unexpected assault on the island. Forced to side with old enemies to uncover who’s responsible for the devastating attack, Ethan begins to question more than just his past—he questions his place in defending a world that sees him as its enemy.

Get yours:

Amazon     Barnes and Noble 

ALL ABOUT KELLY MEDING:

Born and raised in Southern Delaware, Kelly Meding survived five years in the hustle and bustle of Northern Virginia, only to retreat back to the peace and sanity of the Eastern Shore.  An avid reader and film buff, she discovered Freddy Krueger at a very young age, and has since had a lifelong obsession with horror, science fiction, and fantasy, on which she blames her interest in vampires, psychic powers, superheroes, and all things paranormal.

Three Days to Dead, the first book in her Dreg City urban fantasy series, follows Evangeline Stone, a paranormal hunter who is resurrected into the body of a stranger and has only three days to solve her own murder and stop a war between the city’s goblins and vampires.  Additional books in the series, As Lie the Dead, Another Kind of Dead, and Wrong Side of Dead, are available in both digital format and mass market paperback from Bantam.

Beginning with Trance, Kelly’s MetaWars series tells the story of the grown-up children of the world’s slaughtered superheroes who receive their superpowers back after a mysterious fifteen-year absence, and who now face not only a fearful public, but also a vengeful villain who wants all of them dead.  Trance and Changeling are available now in both digital format and mass market paperback from Pocket Books, with Tempest and Chimera following digitally in 2013.

WANT MORE KELLY?  

You can find Kelly on Twitter (https://twitter.com/KellyMeding), Pinterest (http://pinterest.com/kellymeding/), and Facebook, as well as her website (http://www.kellymeding.com/) and her blog Organized Chaos (http://chaostitan.blogspot.com/).

–Wicked

One of my favorite writing buddies was working on a story that was good, but something was missing.  Someone recommended writing from another character’s perspective as well, and everything in her story just seemed to click.  I also was recently working on a story.  I additionally wrote a story from a minor character’s point-of-view, and to my surprise, many people enjoyed this second story to the first.

Since that point, I also started reading a book written from multiple characters point-of-views.  In the past when I have read books written this way, there still seemed to be a dominating perspective.  In this book, however, there wasn’t.  Each character’s point-of-view was written as equally important.  Seeing this allowed me to really take a step back and look at my own characters.  I was able to really ask myself, “is this the best perspective for what I am trying to achieve?”  And to my surprise, just asking this question has really helped my writing.

While when shitty, horrifying crap like this happens, one good thing can come out of it. People band together! They show their love for their fellow man in any way they can.

If you’re looking into doing something to help out someone affected by the tragedies last week, I say awesome.

And if you’d like to help those in West, Texas, here are some great ways to do it!

*****

Hey guys,
I’m a member of the West Community and I wanted to give everyone an update. I actually live about 10 miles away, but my children go to school in West and my husband grew up there. We felt the blast all the way at our house. The noise was deafening, even that far away. We’re still desperately waiting for word on names of the fallen. I know that my hubby has already lost one cousin and a very good friend is in critical condition.
My kids will finish the school year at schools 30 miles away. It’s going to be a hectic next few weeks for all of our family and friends, but this is a tight community and they are already rallying.
Many author friends have contacted me to find out what can be done from the neighboring states. At this point, our resources (meaning food and goods) are overstocked. We’re having to find storage facilities for the overage–that’s a good thing, because clean up crews will be here for weeks.
What we really need is cash donations. There are many funds set up, and you can give through the Red Cross or you can donate money to the relief at Point West Bank & Trust (254) 826-5333 or State National Bank (254) 826-3741.

http://www.pointwestbank.com/default.aspx?v=da5ca2bb-31a9-4cf1-ba97-770dfcc97cf4
If you’d like to make a donation to the education program that we so desperately need, I’ve saved a flyer that the school sent us. https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B1x4uxGq_dFbb3pvdWR5a2Z1Yk0/edit?usp=sharing
We lost three of the four schools. The only thing left is the elementary school.
Please don’t feel obligated, but I know how wonderful my online community is, and I wanted to pass on the word. Thanks for anything you can do for these families.
Hugs to everyone!
Rachel Firasek
True Love Devastates
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