Interview D.K. Deters Author of Christmas Once Again
Happy holidays to all! Give a big welcome to D.K. Deters, author of Christmas Once Again. Have a seat and grab an insulated mug. I’ve got hot chocolate, hot cider and coffee. Choose your pot, they’re labeled. Pick your choice of a Snicker-doodle, Chocolate Chip or Peanut butter cookie from the plate. Yep, I baked them myself. Lets find out a little about D.K. and see what Christmas Once Again is all about. Thanks for joining us!
Hi Tena. Thanks for having me.
What inspired this particular story?
I was watching a news broadcast about ordinary people pitching together to save a stranger’s life. It got me to thinking about how one selfless act could be life-changing. Since I always get sentimental around the holidays, a Christmas romance felt right.
What makes you laugh out loud?
By far, those hilarious everyday events that we couldn’t have orchestrated even if we tried. Check out my favorite holiday memory below.
What is your favorite Christmas tradition?
It’s hard to pick just one, but we love it when our children and their families can make it home for Christmas.
Why did you choose the cover concept you did?
The cover artist asked me to pick two significant elements from the story. I chose a missing painting, which may or may not have special powers and a cabin in the Colorado Rocky Mountains.
Favorite holiday memory?
When my son was in kindergarten, he played Santa in a grade school holiday program. Classmates took on the roles of the reindeer, all decked out with cute little pipe cleaner antlers and connected with holiday garland.
At the back of the auditorium, they waited for their cue. My son held on to the reins (the garland) while standing inside Santa’s sleigh (a big box with a shoulder harness.) The eight tiny reindeer took off at a run with their sites on the stage. As Santa hustled along at top speed, his beard and pointy hat bouncing, the sleigh slid forward and tilted up as if could fly. Now Santa couldn’t see ahead, and he had to rely on his reindeer to get him past the audience. In a flurry, the children arrived center stage to laughter and applause.
I still chuckle when I think about it. (And thank goodness, no one was injured.)
SPEED ROUND FOR A LITTLE ADDED FUN:
Speed Round (one word only answer): Yep, I know torture for a writer!<evil laugh>
Favorite Christmas movie: Serendipity
Favorite Christmas book: Elf
Last Christmas or holiday book read: Elf
Favorite color: Red
Stilettos or flipflops or elf shoes: Flipflops
Coffee or tea or hot chocolate: Coffee
Ebook or audiobook or paperback: Ebook
Pencil or pen or candy cane: Pen
Favorite Christmas Carole or song: Mistletoe
All-time favorite Christmas present: Ring
Favorite dessert: Pie
Christmas Candy or Cake: Candy
Favorite thing to do to relax during the holidays Read
Champagne or gin or eggnog: Champagne
Paranormal or Historical: Historical
Wonder Woman or Top Model or Tinkerbell: Wonder Woman
Favorite Christmas or holiday TV show: Disney
Hot or cold: Hot
POV: Third
I’d die if I don’t have: Coffee
Review or Not: Review
Click on the cover to read more or purchase!
Tell us a little about Christmas Once Again.
She’s dead broke. And eviction looms. On Christmas Eve antique consultant Madison Knight takes a phone call from local rancher Zach Murdock. Through a mix-up at an estate sale, Madison’s company purchased his grandmother’s beloved painting. He offers double the money for its return.
Madison risks her job to track down the artwork, but success falls short when she’s stuck in a blizzard. Stranded, she seeks help from a frontier family. Are they living off the grid, or did she somehow travel through time?
Zach’s the only person who knows her plan. He also knows a secret about his gran’s painting. It’s up to him to rescue Madison, but maybe he’s not cut out to be a hero.
How about a sneak peek between the pages of Christmas Once Again?
“My grandmother had an estate sale last week, and she didn’t want it sold, unfortu—”
“Oh?” She should’ve kept quiet. Run-ins with greedy family members happened in the antique business, and a judging attitude didn’t increase revenues.
“It wasn’t on purpose,” he said. “The day was chaotic, and someone had shuffled around the artwork. We didn’t realize it was missing until a couple of days ago, and it took this long to sort out the mix-up and discover your shop bought it.”
She felt guilty for jumping to the wrong conclusion. “I see how that could happen. It’s obvious the piece is treasured by your grandmother. If it becomes necessary, we have the resources to find a similar style. Is there a specific artist or significance?”
Held hostage by the slow computer response and trying not to rush him, she picked up one of the hand weights, intending to fit in a few curls.
“Keep in mind Gran’s ninety-two, and she thinks…”
“Uh-huh.” With her free hand, she grabbed the latte and took a sip.
“Gran thinks it holds a special power.”
Madison chose that moment to swallow, and the creamy espresso went down the wrong pipe. A dry, hacking cough followed, and she dropped her hand weight, which thudded on the carpet. For heaven’s sake, he didn’t hear her, did he?
You can purchase Christmas Once Again at: Amazon The Wild Rose Press Barnes & Noble
About the Author:
D.K. Deters credits her parents, who grew up in southeastern Kansas, for inspiration to write about the Old West. From an early age, the likes of Jesse James and the Dalton Gang were often included in family lore. To this day, she’s not sure how much is true.
After earning a Bachelor of Science in Business, D. K. followed a profession in the telecommunications industry before turning to a writing career. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her adult children and their families.
D.K. loves to hear from readers and other authors!
Email: dkdetersauthor@hotmail.com
Social Media:
Website: www.dkdeters.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/dk_deters
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/dkdeterscom
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/d-k-deters
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18486948.D_K_Deters
Thank you for having me on your blog. Happy Holidays!
It was wonderful having you with us today. Enjoy your holidays and don’t drink too much egg nog. LOL Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Christmas Once Again!
Views: 425
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Christmas, Christmas Once Again, Contemporary, D.K. Deters, fantasy, Holiday, Paranormal, Time travel, Western by Tena Stetler with 20 comments.
Legacy of Magic by Author Denise Carbo
Give a warm welcome to Denise Carbo author of Legacy of Magic. Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron. Take your choice of a bat wing Chocolate Chip or Pumpkin, or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Denise and her Legacy of Magic!
What paranormal creature would you be and why?
A witch, of course! Who wouldn’t want to have special powers or abilities? Although my heroine, Cory Bishop, has her doubts when she discovers she is a witch.
What would you do if a Vampire showed up at your door?
My husband jokes I’m a vampire because I’m allergic to garlic, have pale skin, and cannot be exposed to the sun too long without getting sick. So, although I doubt I would invite a vampire in, we could commiserate on the loss of Italian food and sunbathing on the beach.
Why did you choose the cover concept you did?
Cory’s powers derive from the Earth, specifically plants. There’s various scenes with trees mentioned, particularly a rather humorous one involving an apple tree. I don’t want to give too much away, but solar eclipses are important to the story line.
What’s your favorite part of being an author?
I love coming up with an idea and then expanding on it until I have a story. Creating characters and throwing them into various situations and seeing how they react is fun.
If you could have one superpower, what would it be and why?
Time Travel. There’s never enough time in the day to accomplish everything I want to do! Turning back the clock on wrinkles wouldn’t be bad either.
Speed Round (one word only answer): Yep, I know torture for a writer!<evil laugh>
Favorite scary movie: Alien (I’m sorry, but I have to add a disclaimer. I’m a bit of a chicken. I don’t watch or read horror. Sci-fi scary is all I can handle.lol)
Favorite scary book: Interview with a Vampire
Last scary book read:
Favorite color: Blue
Stilettos or flipflops or boots: Flipflops
Coffee or tea or flaming drink: Tea
Ebook or audiobook or paperback: Paperback
Pencil or pen or quill with blood ink jar: Pen
Favorite scary song: This is Halloween
Favorite costume: Witch
Favorite dessert: Ice cream
Favorite junk food: Ice cream
Favorite thing to do to relax: Chase bats? Read
Champagne or gin or magic potion: magic potion
Paranormal or Historical: Paranormal
Wonder Woman or Top Model or Witch’s Ball:
Favorite scary TV show: Supernatural
Hot or cold: Cold
POV: varies
I’d die if I don’t have: My kids
Review or Not: Yes
Click on cover to read more or purchase!
Tell us about Legacy of Magic.
Divorced, jobless, and homeless, Cory Bishop moves to Connecticut to begin anew. She gets lost along the way and causes a car accident which does not bode well for the next chapter in her life. However, the reconnection with her great aunt provides her with direction and purpose.
While solving a mysterious family secret, she is pursued by a charming lawyer and her exasperating neighbor who thinks arguing is a form of foreplay. But those circumstances are the least of her problems.
Cory soon discovers she is a witch and must learn to control her new-found powers. An ally, a confidant, and a surprise supporter guide her, but she is almost out of time. An immortal evil wants her powers and will stop at nothing to obtain them. When the battle lines are drawn, Cory must choose who is friend and who is enemy. Will love save her or endanger her even more?
A sneak peek between the pages of Legacy of Magic.
His normal blue jeans were replaced with black. The customarily tight T-shirt was now a blue, button down shirt opened at the throat. Damn, it matched his eyes.
Eyes that were making a very slow, thorough, perusal of her before meeting her gaze. “Must admit, I thought you might stand me up.”
Now why hadn’t that occurred to her?
“The thought never crossed my mind. I follow through when I say I’m going to do something. Although, technically I don’t think I actually accepted your invitation.”
“Sure, you did. You said 6:15. That implied acceptance.”
Cory rolled her eyes. “We both know if Aunt Addy hadn’t been there, I would’ve said no very clearly.”
“Maybe, but then we’d both be left wondering what the two of us together might be like. Personally, I prefer a more direct approach.”
Her foot began to tap. “Oh really? Maneuvering me into a date is direct? And for the record, I wouldn’t be wondering about anything. You and I are not going to get together.” Her hand waved back and forth between them. “We can’t even be in the same room for a few minutes without arguing.”
Finn laughed. “This isn’t arguing.”
“Oh really, what would you call it?”
He leaned towards her and whispered, “Foreplay.”
Legacy of Magic is available for pre-order and will release on October 8, 2018 at this fine online retailers: Amazon, The Wild Rose Press, Barnes & Noble, and ibook
About the author:
Denise Carbo writes Paranormal Romance, Romantic Suspense, and Contemporary Romance. She is a voracious reader, loves to travel, is fascinated by the supernatural, and enjoys figuring out the culprit of books and movies before the ending is revealed.
She lives in a small, picturesque New England town with her high school sweetheart and their three amazing sons.
Visit Denise at http://www.DeniseCarbo.com
http://www.facebook.com/DeniseCarboauthor
http://www.twitter.com/denisecarbo
http://www.pinterest.com/denisecarboromancewriter
http://www.instagram.com/denisecarbo
http://www.amazon.com/author/denisecarbo
http://www.bookbub.com/authors/denise-carbo
It was Spooktacular having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Legacy of Magic!
Views: 407
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Denise Carbo, fantasy, Legacy of Magic, magic, Praranormal Romance by Tena Stetler with 6 comments.
Early Halloween Treat from Laura Buckle Author of Flesh!
for this time of year. I looked around at the materials I had rolling around my
craft room and raided the displays at the dollar store to come up with some
Halloween luminaries to perch in my windows.
Two wide-mouth jars
A plastic witch
A plastic ghost
Black sand
Glue gun and glue sticks
Plastic spider rings
Ribbon
Two LED light strings – I used pumpkins and bats
lights, sand, witch, and ghost at my local dollar store. So I’ve invested about
five bucks in this project. I won’t too feel
bad if it doesn’t turn out!
a jar and the ghost in jars. I had originally intended to use mason jars, but I
didn’t have any with mouths wide enough to squeeze the plastic sculptures
through. So I used some plastic jars I had handy. I settled the witch and ghost
in their new homes, then poured some black sand around their feet to simulate
ground. You could also use glitter or black salt or fine pebbles.
that I could use fairy lights for this step, too, but I liked the bats and
pumpkins.
around so that they showed most clearly from the front. I made sure that the
tail of the light string, with the battery pack, extended outside of the jars. I
wanted to be able to turn my luminaries on and off and change batteries without
digging the whole string out of the jar, though you could leave it in the jar,
too. Here’s what they looked like:
damage the thin wire. I made sure that the wire fed out the back side of the
jar. If I needed more room, I would have cut out part of the lid or put the
pack behind the figure inside the jar, but this seemed to work fine with these
materials.
from the bag of spiders. I cut the ring part off the spiders so that they would
lie flat.
the center of the bow, I glued a spider.
“Amanda, I…Oh.”
I don’t know what else to say. My brain just shuts down.
She is wearing the sheet, wound around her like a toga. It trails behind her bare feet, sort of like a painting about Greek goddesses I’ve seen in art books. She’s leaning over another body stored in the cooler unit on a cart. Her back is to me, and I can only see her pale skin and her burgundy-black hair shuddering.
“Amanda.”
She turns at the sound of my voice, seeming only to hear me for the first time. Her face is covered in dark blood. In her hand, she’s holding a big chunk of purple flesh. Her eyes are half-closed. The autopsy incision on the elderly body below her has been ripped open, and I’m pretty sure that what she’s holding is a lung.
“So hungry…” she murmurs.
I retreat until my back presses against the cold door. A whimper escapes my lips, and I drop the laundry basket with a sharp crack of plastic on the tile floor. This has to be a dream. A screwed-up anxiety dream that I’ll wake up from any moment now…
Amanda’s black eyes snap open. She stares at the chunk of flesh in her hand. “I…Agh…What’s going on?”
Lothar waddles over to her and begins to beg. Bile rises in my throat. “That’s Mrs. Canner,” I manage to answer. “She’s seventy-two and died of surgery complications for varicose veins. Deep vein thrombosis, I think. I don’t remember.” I’m babbling, trying to keep the bile down.
Amanda drops the lung with a wet splat. Lothar scrambles to it and begins scarfing it down. Her hands are trembling. She presses them to her temples. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”
I nudge the laundry basket closer to her with my foot. “I brought you some clothes. And, um. Food. You should get dressed.”
I think I should be afraid. I think I really ought to be. But Amanda seems genuinely confused. She reaches for the clothes I’ve brought her. To be polite, I know that I should really look away. But I can’t move. I am not turning my back on her. My heart pounds, and I struggle to take deep, uneven breaths.
Amanda unwinds the sheet and slips into my clothes. Though I avert my eyes, I see that her shoulder and side are still torn open. But my mother hasn’t begun the autopsy yet, so there is no Y-incision across her chest and abdomen.
“Do you remember what happened to you?” I manage to ask. I congratulate myself for having a rational thought. Woot.
Her voice is halting, and her brow wrinkles as she struggles to button my jeans. “I remember…something was chasing me. Jesus, it hurt…” Her hand comes up to her neck, and she seems to remember, fingering the edges of the wound. “Am I in a hospital?” she asks again.
I suck in a breath. “No. You’re at my house.” It’s not a lie. Not really.
She scans the room, as if registering the sight of the cadavers. “You’re the girl whose parents run the funeral home. The Ghoul Girl.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” I tell her.
“Why am I here?” Her breath makes ghosts in the cold air.
“The Sheriff found you, alongside the road.” That’s true also, even if not the whole truth. “I think we should get you upstairs, so you can talk to my parents…”
She shakes her head, and her dark hair slaps across her face. “No. I…Oh my god. I’m here because…somebody thought I was dead?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah.”
Her hands press to the wound on her side. “But I’m not dead!”
“I…uh…I think we need to get you to the hospital.” I tentatively reach toward her, to grasp her arm and guide her upstairs, toward the light of the much more civilized parlor and rational discussion. This is so far over my head, and I need my parents to handle it.
She shakes her head. “No. No. No.”
I hold her elbow gently, trying to keep her calm until I can get her upstairs to my parents. Her skin radiates cold through the sweatshirt, and I can see that the edges of her neck wound are dry, not seeping so much as a hint of blood. “Come with me.” I open the door and gently lead her into the lab, as if I’m herding a frightened cat. She gazes at the stainless-steel equipment. “I was here. I remember being here.”
“Come upstairs,” I urge, struggling to keep my composure. I use all the empathy that I’ve learned, dealing with grieving family members, trying to understand the shock and lead her away from the Body Shop.
She squints up at the buzzing light. “You were here, weren’t you? You and that woman. Looking at me.”
“My mother,” I say. I’m thinking crap crap crap. I’ve heard of cases of people whose vitals have dropped far beyond detection, who have awoken in hospital morgues. This has never happened to us. Not ever. Oh shit. The other body. Maybe it the same thing…
“The woman with that knife…” Her fingers go to her sternum, where my mother’s scalpel had rested. All of a sudden, Amanda becomes rooted in place, as immovable as a mountain.
“No one’s going to hurt you,” I promise. “Let me make you some coffee.”
She shakes her head, and I feel her trembling. Her eyes slide to the back door.
She slips from my grip. Before I can stop her, she rushes to the back door. She slams it open with a sound like a gunshot and plunges into the darkness.
It was Spooktacular having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Flesh!
Views: 206
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged fantasy, Flesh, HOrra, Laura Bickle, Paranormal, YA by Tena Stetler with 2 comments.
Interview Lea Ryan Author of Wild Spirits of the Hollow
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Lea and her Wild Spirits of the Hollow.
What secret do you use to blast through writer’s block?
I plot my stories out pretty meticulously, so I don’t get much writer’s block. If I do get stuck, I find that it’s because I didn’t think that scene through in enough detail to begin with. I step back, reassess the notes, and figure out where to go from there. When it does happen, it’s usually a matter of figuring out how to get from one point to another in a way that flows. Staying in that document, staring at the blinking cursor does not help!
What inspired you to write?
My love of books is definitely what inspired me to write. I was a huge bookworm as a kid. I tend to want to imitate what I love. I love fantasy and paranormal fiction, any story that removes me from the real world. And that’s what I write. I love that anything can happen in those kinds of stories. Those worlds are way more exciting than my office job, for sure!
Where do your story ideas come from? If they come to you in the middle of the night, do you get up and write them all down?
My ideas come from many places. I keep notes on things that I think are cool or interesting. They might come from television, movies, random tidbits I see on the internet. Sometimes, I might be driving and see something that gives me an idea that connects to another idea. A book or a story usually isn’t one idea; it’s more like a bunch of ideas strung together in some (hopefully) coherent form.
What do you like to do when you are not writing?
When I’m not writing or hanging out with the fam, I spend way too much time on the PlayStation. My game of the moment is Elder Scrolls Online (ESO). Earlier this year it was Destiny 2 and a little bit of Uncharted 4, which I still need to finish. My primary on ESO is a Khajiit, and I’m currently at level 460ish. Oh, and Fallout 4. I’m still picking that one up on and off. My son plays that one as well. We are both looking forward to Fallout 76.
How about a sneak peek between the pages of Wild Spirits of the Hollow?I stood at the edge of the trees, staring at the light deep within the forest. Between it and me, a sea of shadow concealed the underbrush and all that lurked there. This forest, like many other forests, would have its insects, snakes, tangles of who-knew-what, maybe wildcats or some other thing ready to pounce on and maim me.After hours of walking along a secluded, mountain highway, my brain was thoroughly scrambled. I knew enough to know that, and I knew enough to not fully trust what I was seeing.
It might be a lie, the light, a mirage conjured by some desperate part of my mind. I’d told enough lies to others, why not myself?
A fantasy of stumbling upon a cabin with friendly occupants swam through my mind. They’d have food left over from dinner, a plate they’d be happy to hand over to someone who really needed it, and I did really need it. Lunch was a distant memory, as well as the Skittles from my backpack, my bottle of water. If I made it anywhere alive, I would really have to reevaluate my packing priorities.
I sighed. Unless I wanted to sleep next to the highway, that light was my only hope. I adjusted my backpack straps and stepped into the trees.
I plodded through the darkness in high tops that weren’t made for terrain any more intense than a mall floor. I also regretted wearing shorts and a t-shirt because there was no trail, only weeds and trees and rustling sounds made by small animals nearby.
All the while, the light in the distance remained bright, burning my eyes, but I kept my sights on it because that was hope, even if it never seemed to get any closer.
I kept my mind off my creepy surroundings by considering who I would be for the people who awaited me. Had someone picked me up as I attempted to hitchhike, that lucky individual would’ve had the opportunity to hang out with a model, who was on her way to Miami.
Everybody likes to hang out with famous people and people who are about to be famous. I’ve noticed this before. When I tell them whatever version of the story I’d concocted for the evening, their eyes would light up as if I had offered to take them along to fame and fortune.
The model story was my go-to. I was lanky and odd looking in a way that some people found attractive or interesting, at the very least, plausible model material. This was not the person I would be in the cabin. I didn’t have the energy to keep up the behaviors that went along with that lie.
Models didn’t eat substantial food. Models ate iceberg lettuce and drank lemon, cucumber water. My model did, anyway.
There in the woods with possible food ahead of me, there was no way I could keep that up. I didn’t care what food someone shoved under my nose. The idea of grilled opossum made my mouth water. Boiled weeds? Fine. I’d eat anything.
I tried to come up with another story, but the most compelling at that moment was my own. Broken car. Girl wandering the woods in hope of finding food and shelter. I was filthy and growing filthier by the minute. If I had scissors in my backpack, I would’ve chopped off at least half of my long, brown hair just to get rid of the tangles. That evening, I wouldn’t have to fake a look of utter desperation. So I let the story be what it was.
Views: 570
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Contemporary, fantasy, fiction, Lea Ryan, Supernatural, Wild Spirits of the Hollow by Tena Stetler with 2 comments.
