May I introduce: Carla Caruso "Pretty Famous" #HarperCollins

Pretty Famous

by Carla Caruso

 

 

 

Blurb:

A dark secret from Hollywood’s Golden Age. A possible prince-in-hiding. Astonvale’s about to implode...

Professional organiser Celeste Pretty swore she’d never work with uber-blonde interior designer Imogen Karmel again, but then she’s presented with a project she can’t refuse.

The prestigious Astonvale College is celebrating its centenary and needs the pair to ensure the festivities go off without a hitch.

As Celeste sets to work in a flurry of activity — in between organising her own engagement party — she finds herself blowing away the cobwebs on a sixty-year-old secret.

Meanwhile, Imogen becomes enamoured with a substitute teacher, Hudson Addison, who may or may not be a royal in hiding. And there’s nothing Imogen dreams of more than becoming a princess. Will all be revealed on party night?

 

 

 

 

 

Author bio:

Carla Caruso was born in Adelaide, Australia, and only ‘escaped’ for three years to work as a magazine journalist and stylist in Sydney. Previously, she was a gossip columnist and fashion editor at Adelaide’s daily newspaper, The Advertiser. She has since freelanced for titles including Woman’s Day and Shop Til You Drop. These days, she plays mum to twin lads Alessio and Sebastian with hubby James.

 

Author links:

Visit www.carlacaruso.com.au, her blog www.theunitalianwife.com, ‘Carla Caruso Author’ on Facebook, or @CarlaCaruso79 on Twitter.

 

Buy link:

http://www.harpercollins.com.au/9781460704127/pretty-famous-an-astonvale-novel

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt:

The path behind the building was narrow, even more weed-ridden, and rubbish-strewn. Like the dark underbelly of Astonvale College. It was obviously a space the school council had forgotten about as they busied themselves with approving new computer labs and design and technology classrooms. That was until the centenary celebrations and a chance to link to Arnold Foxling had rushed the theatre back into their focus. Imogen had only gotten a quarter of the way in when she decided enough was enough. It was time to turn back. Creative inspiration wasn’t about to strike back there anytime soon.

She spun around and screamed blue murder as a shadowy face suddenly filled her vision. Clumsily, she stepped back from the dark stranger, her hip hitting a metal drum. Pain shot through her. A hand gripped her arm before she lost her footing, its owner’s features, all at once, illuminated by a shaft of sunlight.

Oh my. Imogen drew in a sharp breath, immediately forgetting about the throbbing in her hip. The stranger was male. A very attractive male. Really something else, and she’d had her share of chiselled hunks in her time. He had eyes as cobalt-blue as the Mediterranean, cropped light brown hair tinged with blonde, and the perfect shadow of sexy stubble. She couldn’t feel a wedding band against her skin, his fingers still warm on her arm. She was never this lucky. Unless she’d actually fallen, hit her head, and was now hallucinating.

‘Sorry to scare you,’ the stranger said in an accent she couldn’t quite pin down. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone to be lurking around here.’

He had a hint of laughter in his eyes. She tried to claw back her composure while imagining dirt streaked across her cheek. ‘Neither was I. What’s your excuse for being here?’

Unfortunately, he lost his grasp on her arm to reach for something amid a low bunch of prickly weeds. He held up the found object. A football. ‘Retrieving this. And you?’

Imogen tossed her hair, grateful it didn’t get stuck on an errant metal pole or some such. ‘I’m working on an interior design project for the school.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘And you look too old to be a student.’

For a moment, he looked down, tossing the ball from one hand to the other. ‘I’m a substitute phys. ed. teacher and, despite the football, coach the Year Elevens’ winning soccer team.’ His eyes met hers again. ‘They call me Mr Addison, but you can call me Hunter.’ Then he bent into a mock bow, despite the limited space. ‘Enchantée.’

Hold the phone. He spoke French? He was a substitute phys. ed. teacher… as in, on loan to the school for an unspecified amount of time? He’d even looked down when he’d said it! And the stubble could be part of a disguise. Plus, if a royal was to pick a phony name, certainly they’d choose one to do with a sport like hunting.

Could… Could the guy in front of her actually be Prince Alexis, in the flesh? Sure he was wearing a tracksuit and sneakers right now, but she could so see him in sash-adorned military attire. A living, breathing prince — who wasn’t school-aged — right across from her mini Georgian-style mansion. Was this fate?

‘And I’m Imogen Karmel.’ Her voice had transformed into a purr. She had to hold herself back from curtseying as she teased, ‘But I don’t mind being called Ms Karmel.’

He raised an eyebrow in question. ‘Ms Karmel?’

‘Yes?’

He leaned in and she forgot to breathe. ‘You’ve got a leaf in your hair.’ Then he reached to pluck it out — the most erotic millisecond she’d ever experienced — before he turned to walk back in the direction he’d come, the football wedged under his arm. Not even a goodbye. Maybe he’d seen in her eyes she’d guessed his little secret? She clattered after him but her heels were a disadvantage.

 

Snippet Sunday - Little Beginnings 15/03/2015 #Reading #WIP

 

 

~~~

LITTLE BEGINNINGS

 

Jeri lives in Hobart where she owns a gallery. Since her divorce, many years ago, she's finally ready to "be" with a man again. But finding the right one seems to be harder than she thought.

 

~~~

 

Scott looked down at Jeri through eyes the colour of chocolate brown. She stared at him. He was about the same height as Ely, his hair was a dirty blond rather than dark and the ends curled up like fish hooks around the edge of the hat.

She thought, Ely had been the highlight of her day, but Scott evidently came from the same gene pool.

Or at least similar.

Jeri was still unable to speak but when she noticed him raising his eyebrow, she forced herself to shake his hand.

“Thank God, you’re here,” she said with a croaky voice.

He smiled again, and she nearly had to hold on to something or at least lock her knees.

She continued to stare at him as he took in the situation.

“Any major damage?” he asked

And that’s when she stopped comparing him to her carpenter. Her stare turned into a glare and with hands on hips she said, “Not at all. I simply wanted to meet you.”

 
 

 Thank you all for your support and kind comments.

I do appreciate each single one of them!

And check out Snippet Sunday  Facebook site for other writers.

          

OUT NOW

 

 

Check out my books on Amazon

 

 

 

 

 

Four Australian Authors - Four Unique Stories about Christmas

A Season to Remember

 

A Christmas anthology from four Australian authors

Eva Scott, Susanne Bellamy, Elizabeth Ellen Carter, and Noelle Clark

Release Date: November 2014

Free download from Amazon

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/493542

 

Four short stories on the Christmas theme, spanning time, places. Uplifting, funny, thought-provoking, heart-warming, ‘A Season to Remember’ will make your heart sing.

‘Three Ships’ by Elizabeth Ellen Carter
Blurb:
An adventure romance set in the early 19th century on the Devon Coast. Laura Winter lives on St Joseph’s Rock, a tidal island that is home to a lighthouse that protects Ashton-on-Sea. On a late November day a violent storm brings not only the handsome Lieutenant Michael Renten but also a clutch of pirates bent on wreaking mischief.

Excerpt:
“Why doesn’t the lieutenant do something?” Laura whispered tautly.
“Just wait,” her father insisted.
Blackwell too had stopped running as he watched his two men close the gap. They were now only ten yards away when Renten picked up the lantern, pulled out the candle and dropped it in the cauldron.
The blackguards closed in – five yards, two yards – then the powder in the cauldron ignited. Renten disappeared in a flash of light and billowing smoke.
The two men ran into the miasma and, a moment later, their cries of distress were heard as they ran right off the edge of the cliff.
Laura gripped her father’s hand at the sound and the sight.
When the white-blue smoke cleared, the cliff edge was deserted, save for the cauldron.

‘Sands of Time’ by Noelle Clark
Blurb:
Kitty faces her first Christmas without the love of her life. She looks back with fondness on the memories of Christmases past and, with the love and support of her grandson Joe, finds inner strength to face the future with anticipation. Kitty realises that, as she gets older, time passes so quickly. Although sad and happy memories flood through her on this special Christmas day, she chooses to embrace every moment of life.

Excerpt:
“Merry Christmas.” He reached into a small canvas tote and pulled out a small, square box wrapped in Christmas paper and tied with red and green ribbon.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly.
He pulled away, his face as eager as a child’s. “Here, open it.”
She ripped off the ribbon and tore at the paper. Inside was a dark red velvet box. She flipped open the lid, revealing two gold earrings set with dark blue sapphires. Love swelled inside her, almost making her swoon. Unshed tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“They’re beautiful!” Her words were barely audible. She kissed him again, deeply, lovingly. When they broke their embrace, Billy rose and walked over to his wooden dinghy, untied the plastic mistletoe, and returned, attaching it to a stumpy mangrove bush next to where they were lying on their towels.
He lay down next to her again. She still remembered how his eyes looked that day—deep, dark pools exuding love. He bent his head and kissed her. “I love you so much, Kathryn. I adore you.”
Their embrace, fuelled by their love, fanned the flames of passion. There, on the sandy crescent of beach on Kingfisher Island, with no witnesses save some gulls and a few waterbirds, they consummated their love for the first time, pledging their devotion—and their lives—to each other.

‘All That Glitters’ by Eva Scott
Blurb:
Molly is a modern day Cinderella, second best to her half-sister Aimee and never measuring up to her step-mother’s expectations. Now Aimee has the chance to marry an elderly millionaire and Molly is expected to keep the man’s grandson, Connor Rathmore, from sabotaging the event. Handsome, charismatic and very, very sexy - how is she going to keep him from sabotaging her heart?

Excerpt:
“Well, are you ready?” She sounded rude but it was all she could manage to say. On the way over to pick him up she’d been too preoccupied to consider him at all. Instead she replayed the conversation she’d had with her stepmother. After receiving a reprimand for arriving late, Maria had grilled her over Connor Rathmore and found her answers less than satisfactory. Then the lecture started on her appearance. Where were the shoes? She’d kicked off those horrible expensive shoes at the airport and hadn’t given them another thought. An unforgivable act in her stepmother’s eyes. It was impressed upon her that she must try harder and remember her sister’s happiness. Of course. Molly loved her half-sister, Aimee, despite the fact the girl was spoilt rotten. Underneath all the embellishments she really did have a good heart. It wasn’t Aimee’s fault she’d been raised to be a life-sized doll.
She appraised the man before her. She steeled herself not to react to him. When he’d opened the hotel room door, more primal male than any man she had ever encountered, something unexpected happened to her. Bam! Right to the heart. Very inconvenient and impossible, the idea could not be entertained. Not for a millisecond. The consequences would be devastating.
“Good evening to you too.” He bestowed what she assumed was his best killer smile. “Shall we go?”
He stepped through the door, so close the heat radiating off his body hit her like a furnace. Her natural reserve began to melt. The scent of him was so… masculine and her knees wobbled as she caught her breath. Moving away wasn’t an option, even if she tried.
He smiled as if aware of the effect he had on her. Without looking back he strode towards the elevator and pushed the button. They stood in silence side by side while they waited. The animal magnetism between them shimmered, increasing with every passing second.
Molly’s senses scrambled. She stumbled into the lift. This situation would need careful handling. The man beside her must not guess his presence caused a meltdown. Her attraction to him created a complication she did not need. Just one week. Please help me make it through this one week. If her stepmother suspected an attraction between Molly and Connor, all hell would break loose.

‘A Touch of Christmas’ by Susanne Bellamy
Blurb:
As Starship Bluefire settles into orbit around Earth, Captain Andra Veluthian anticipates meeting her favourite human, Colonel Nick Madigan. Have his efforts to save the planet succeeded? And if so, will she lose any chance to be with him?
Knowing Andra’s fascination with all things Terran, Nick has planned a surprise for her. After all, it is Christmas, the season of giving. But when Earth’s leader and the Gravlarian captain spend time planet side, the temperature soars.

Excerpt:
Beyond a set of double doors, a large, round, backlit table occupied the centre of the conference room. Patterned with galaxies and distant star systems, it was a thing of beauty in an otherwise utilitarian space. As a symbol, it was priceless. Gravlarian attitudes were rather like the Arthurian legends he’d read about. As in the fabled court of Camelot, their round table accorded all attendees the same right to speak as equals.
Light refreshments were served as a preliminary to the serious business ahead of them and his delegation intermingled with the Gravlarians. Diplomacy demanded he chatted with members of her staff but when they assembled at the round meeting table, Nick made sure he was beside Andra. She stopped beside two vacant seats. Was the starship captain’s inclination the same as his?
At the touch of his hands, a seat automatically unclamped from the table. He held it, knowing the gesture would not be lost on her. Her tawny eyes widened and their colour deepened, rivalling a desert sunset. Basking in the glow, he almost forgot the reason for their meeting today, the report cached in his wrist-corder.
Clearing his throat, he keyed in his guest access code on the reader embedded in the table, followed by his palm print. “I’m ready.”

May I introduce: Suzi Love "Scenting Scandal" ( incl a #freebie )

Scenting Scandal

by Suzi Love

What a delight to have Australian author Suzi Love as a guest today. On her blog she describes herself "I live in the northern state of Queensland, known for sunshine and golden beaches. I’ve also lived in outback Australia and in two South Pacific countries. And been lucky enough to travel through lots of other countries, inspired the exotic settings for my books."

So what inspires her to write historical romances? 

I've always been fascinated with history. I love museums and love discovering all the weird bits about eras, the clothing, houses, customs, and inventions. And my second love is romance, so when I started writing I instinctively blended the two and started creating historical romances full of characters based on the true life people I'd read so much about.   

 

No secret, Keanu Reeves is the man inspiring you for your erotica stories. What makes him stand out for you compared to other men? 
I've actually met him twice - far too briefly...sigh... and he is a very kind and polite man, not to mention even more gorgeous in person than on screen.  But I also admire him for  his incredible generosity to friends, family, and the cast and crew he works with on sets, and though he hides his charitable efforts, he freely donates his time, his name, and his earnings.   

 

You once described the outback as “The outback is a mixture of gulf wetlands and waterholes, red desert and sand dunes, pockets of lush grasslands, and enormous cattle stations”. What was it like to live in such an environment?

You'll probably regret asking me about the outback, because I tend to rave on for hours about the landscapes and the different lifestyles in the Australian bush. Living in the outback can be lonely as your neighbors may be hours drive away, and that's when the roads aren't flooded.  Yet if you have a problem, your neighbors will rush to your side and offer help. They'll stand beside you to fight bushfires, cook cakes for your cotton pickers or shearers, and hand you a box of tissues after you wave goodbye to your kids when they head off to boarding school on the train. 

A lot of the time living in the bush means red dust, heat, flies, and far too much hard work. But after rain, the plains become an expanse of lush green grass, the cattle look fat and healthy, and smiling farmers share a beer at the local pub and celebrate life in the bush. It's a life of highs and lows, but the scenery is always changing and always beautiful and outback people are the best in the world.        

 

Tell us about your current project. 

My current project is a book full of historic images about Easter and called, strangely enough, Easter in Images. (Grin) There are lots of gorgeous old Easter postcards, Faberge eggs from Russia, and paintings and etchings with religious significance for Easter. And the best news? Easter in Images is about to have free days so I hope everyone downloads a copy.   

Blurb:

Lady Laura Jamison has a gift and she’s not afraid to use it. She’s after a husband, but not just any husband. She wants a man who meets her logical and scientific criteria. Her extraordinary olfactory senses lead her to Richard, the Earl of Winchester. He might not know it-yet-but he’s her perfect match.

Richard has no time for family friend, Laura, the mad scientist. He’s been pursued by many a female, but never on the premise that one sniff can decide your soul mate. Besides, he wants to marry a sweet and docile  woman, a socially acceptable young lady, the exact opposite of Laura.

But when he’s tasked with stopping fraudulent trading in Britain’s railways shares, he finds he needs Laura’s help. As they work to expose the culprit, Richard begins to think Laura may be on to something, because when he’s with her, passion and desire explode with one look, one touch, one kiss…

Scenting Scandal is the second in the Scandalous Siblings Series of historical romances set early in the Victorian Era.

 

Author:

I'm Suzi Love, an Australian author of historical romances set mainly in the late Regency and early Victorian eras, and ranging from sexy to erotic. With a bit of Australia thrown in.

I now live in a sunny part of Australia after spending many years in developing countries in the South Pacific. My greatest loves are traveling, anywhere and everywhere, meeting crazy characters, and visiting the Australian outback. I adore history, especially the many-layered society of the late Regency to early Victorian eras.

My titled heroes and heroines live a privileged life in and around London, but my stories also dig deeper into the grittier and seamier levels of British life. I love heroes and heroines who challenge traditional manners, morals, and occupations, either through necessity or desire.

I hope my romances bring history alive for you and that you have fun alongside my roguish heroes and feisty heroines.

Tag Line- Making history fun, one year at a time

 

Suzi Love's Daily Paper - https://paper.li/~/publisher/2dc7a490-82e8-012f-25ad-12313d16b843

Web  -  http://www.suzilove.com

Pinterest -  http://pinterest.com/suziloveoz/

Suzi Love Face Book - http://on.fb.me/OyiYbU

Suzi Love's Face Book Author Page http://on.fb.me/NGeZcp

Twitter  -   http://twitter.com/suzilove

 

 

Purchase Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Scenting-Scandal-Scandalous-Siblings-Series-ebook/dp/B00IM4A3TE/ref=pd_rhf_dp_p_d_3

Amazon Australiahttp://www.amazon.com.au/Scenting-Scandal-Scandalous-Siblings-Series-ebook/dp/B00IM4A3TE/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1393307800&sr=1-1&keywords=Scenting+Scandal+%28Scandalous+Siblings+Ser

And check out Suzi's

 Easter in Images (Historical Events)

which is FREE for the next few days!

 

Excerpt:

 “Uh, uh,” he said, wagging a finger. “You misunderstand the reasons for my happier expression. Unlike you, I’m looking forward to the next three months and the chance to study your fiscal strategies. I’d like to compare my investing skills to those of your astute sister’s.”

His mouth widened into a roguish grin. “I’m also flattered by your scrutiny of my anatomy and amused by your blush, especially after your studies into animal reproduction.”

Her free hand flew to her cheek and her heavy reticule knocked her arm. “I never blush.” To have him observe her ogle him was embarrassing and gave her another reason to be irritated by his company, petty though her reasons might be. She tugged, but her hand was imprisoned under his. With her nose raised a fraction, she said, “For the sake of propriety, I was ensuring your garments were intact. You’ve a reputation for disappearing into dark corners and re-emerging with your clothing askew. As though hasty hands ripped your garments from your body.”

“Tut, tut, my pet. Has jealousy driven you to spying?”

“Jealousy? Over the class of females you consort with? I was reassuring myself your clothing was intact for the sake of my elderly aunt. The entire congregation watched that woman, the Countess, beckon you to the back of the church. Heaven knows what you were doing while the bride and groom were signing the register.”

Winchester chuckled, long and low. “I doubt even my sullied reputation could support the story that I dragged the Countess into a shadowy niche for a quick tumble. At least, not with my sisters watching me like hawks.” He dipped his head closer. “I may excel at dispensing pleasure, but I like more than a few minutes to enjoy a rendezvous.”

She forced herself to stand motionless, to not react to his latest coarse taunt. “I’ve no interest,” she said, between calming breaths, “in knowing any details of how you entertain–”

Louder noises erupted from the street.

“Oh, dear. Their carriage is slowing again,” her Aunt Aggie announced from her loftier position. “Becca’s quite likely to have drawn up another list of instructions for you, Laura.”

Laura moaned. “I hope not. She’s already left enough lists to paper my bedroom walls.”

Lottie, the optimist, said, “Perhaps they simply forgot something vital in their packing.”

Sherwyn’s younger brother jogged past. “I’ll see what’s delaying them.”

As they watched Brian lope down the road, Laura took advantage of Winchester’s distraction to tug her arm free. “It’s your fault they’ve stopped.”

He growled and threw up his hands. “How can the coach stopping be my fault?”

“You were supposed to use your notorious powers of persuasion for something besides seduction.” She poked his chest. “To convince Becca you held uttermost confidence in my ability to manage in her absence.”

“As of an hour ago, we became related by marriage. And despite what you think of me or how I live my life, I take familial duties seriously. If we do discover a new stock syndicate is being formed by Lady Hetherington, I’m far better qualified to deal with her than you are.”

“And as I’ve informed my siblings, I’m quite capable of organizing our affairs. Without the meddling of a condescending—”

“Laura,” Aunt Aggie said. “Remember your surroundings.” Her hissed reprimand echoed down the steps. “Refrain from such disrespect. The Earl’s offer is extremely kind. Apologize, and accept his assistance. With grace.”

Winchester smirked and made a great show of bending closer, to better hear her apology.

“I’d rather be boiled in oil than—” Gloved fingers pressed against her lips.

From the steps above, Laura heard Aunt Aggie clucking, her favorite way of expressing her disappointment in the behavior of her great nieces.

“I wouldn’t continue, if I were you.” The Earl leaned in and spoke in a whisper. “Brian is arguing with the honeymoon couple. Most likely convincing them all is well. Urging them to continue their journey. And your sister, who’s as stubborn as you—”

She nipped the closest finger to her teeth.

He yanked back his hand, and with his head bowed muttered, “Bloody hell.” Then the dreadful man met her gaze and gave a slow grin. “Sorry.” He held out his finger. “Russian leather. No blood. Better luck next time.”

Clamping her mouth shut, Laura faced the road, raised her hand and waved. “The coachman is rousing the horses again. Everyone,” she said, forcing another smile into her stiff cheeks, “keep waving.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strident and strained. Over her shoulder, she spoke to Winchester in her most commanding tone. “There’ll not be a next time for us. As soon as they’re out of our sight, you’ll remove yourself from my presence.” 

His sigh whispered across the nape of her neck, lifted the fine hairs there, and sent a small shiver across her shoulders. For an idle moment, she savored the warm brush of air and imagined the same heat caressing other areas of bared flesh.

“... in the short term, my promise stands. Until Sherwyn returns, the smooth running of the Jamison household is my responsibility.”

She shook her head and reeled in her wayward thoughts.

“No need,” she said, unclenching her jaw and showing her teeth in a false but placating smile. “I’d be most distressed, kind sir, if you put yourself out on my account. Becca left me a list of instructions as long as my arm on which shares to buy and sell, and how to deliver my orders to our Stock Exchange agents. To excel at my duties, I need only follow each and every step. Rather like climbing a ladder.”

“People have been known to tumble from ladders. Land in the wrong place.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “Very true. But for all I know, aligning myself with you may land me in deep water. How do I know you’re trustworthy? You could be copying those scoundrels Becca had imprisoned. Snaking into our household to steal our secrets.”

She’d tried to appear apprehensive, but when his jaw went slack with shock, she couldn’t stop help but chuckled.

He waggled a finger. “You, pixie, are provoking me. Deliberately.”

“Do, please, stop calling me such a childish name. If you haven’t noticed, I became a woman several years ago.”

His gaze flicked over her body, scorched where it touched and left her tingling in its wake. “Trust me, Laura, I’d noticed.”

 

 

 

May I introduce: Darry Fraser "Anything for Love"

 

Anything For Love

by Darry Fraser

Please help me make Darry Fraser welcome here on my blog. They say don't judge the book by its cover, but I did... and I can't wait to read the story - the blurb sounds great as well!

1 - What gave you the idea for the story?

Anything For Love came about because of something that happened while I was working in an industry which hosted travelers into very isolated places. One of those isolated places was an island very much resembling Australis Island which I created for my stories.

 At one point an unfortunate travelling couple happened to be placed with another couple in what they’d been sold as their own private space for three days. Needless to say the agents who made the booking were a little red-faced and things were quickly sorted.

I began to think about two single people who might have been thrust into the same situation, how it might reasonably have come about and what might reasonably be expected to happen!

 The story was called ‘An Isolated Incident’ for a very long time; it was changed last minute to its current title.

 

2 – You’ve had some publishing success with short stories. What made you start writing novels?

It never occurred to me when I was younger that I was doing anything other than writing, spinning a tale, telling a story so I have always had short stories and novel-size stories on the go at the same time.

For me short stories are easy to write – not without heart and soul, but easy. You have to make every word count, because if you are on a word count limit, your story has to be seamless yet succinct. I don’t know if I’ve mastered it, but I love it. Inspiration for the shorties is very intense and so is the writing.

My short stories seem to have a bit of the ‘romagic’ in them – to borrow a very good description from another writer on the RWA list – they have romance, magic and a child-like wonder to them. It’s a very different muse who sits with me when I write short stories.

My longer stories seem to want the longer tale told, with no magic other than the real magic, either romance or romantic suspense. My other ‘longer-story’ muse constantly prods from the background. Often, I never know if the stories will be a novella, a novel or a supersize-novel, but character and content always dictates in the end.

These longer stories take precedence, but when I need a break I often find a good little short story is waiting to be written.

3 – Tell us a bit about your current project.

There are a number of projects on the go - I’m editing my next novel out in May. It’s using a storyline we’ve heard of before, but again, it was something on the edge of a truth which happened where I was living at the time, so my thoughts – and my keyboard – took off.

And a new novel is in the wings, about half way through as I write this. It too has its roots in truth, something I have in my family history, and only a couple of generations back. I hope I’m giving it a different perspective than the norm. The characters are taking me to places I didn’t even think of, so I have to get it right.

 

Blurb:

Tilla Cormack loves her job, and she’s the boss of her own company so what’s not to love? But lately she and her staff have been run ragged by one of her biggest clients who turns out to be the meanest, crankiest individual on the corporate planet.
And just who does he think he is? Enter Keith Taylor ... or is it Kent Taylor?

One magic, long awaited holiday; one case of a double booking; two cases of expensive wine and the sparks fly for Ms Cormack and Mr Taylor in the wilderness on isolated Australis Island.

Author:

I like to read forensic thrillers and historical dramas and autobiographies, mysteries and so on - and romance, but I LOVE to write about relationships, and use lots of dialogue,and to build characters who are more real than fantasy and create - I hope - great stories within the boundaries of the genre.

I love feel-good stories, and they're not necessarily Happily Ever After... but for now that's what I'm into - I hope you enjoy it as well. 

https://www.facebook.com/darryfraser0210 

 

Purchase Links:

http://www.amazon.com/Anything-For-Love-Darry-Fraser-ebook/dp/B00IFDD9PC

 

Excerpt:

 Her dream was a loud one. There was stumbling and cursing, unlike any of her dreams before, but she was reluctant to come awake ... too tired.  She tossed and moaned her protest, but when she heard the crash of a dozen bottles of wine she bolted upright, wide awake, heart hammering and her throat suddenly constricted.

She clutched the bed-clothes to her chin, gulped in great breaths of air. Tried to shake herself fully awake.

The cursing and snarling continued, the bottles crashing and clanging on the slate floor.

Terror struck her very soul.

There was a drunk in her little haven.

Oh no, oh no ...

She couldn’t see a thing—it was pitch outside, no moon. She leapt out of the bed dragging the sheet with her and groping in the dark for her clothes. Where were her clothes—? Oh God—in the bathroom ... how’d she possibly defend herself ... ?

Another curse and then another. “What the bloody hell—?”

Stopped her frantic panic, covered her mouth with one hand. She knew that voice. It was unmistakable. Tilla shook herself. It couldn’t be. She must still be asleep … It just couldn’t be. Her heart pounded.

“Who the bloody hell put that there?” the gravelly voice boomed.

She tried to distil the solid block of fear which weighed on her chest like a sack of potatoes.

There was no mistaking that voice. No mistaking it at all.

May I introduce: Heather Garside "Breakaway Creek"

Breakaway Creek

by

Heather Garside

Really excited to have another wonderful and talented Australian author as a guest today. Please make Heather Garside very welcome!

Breakaway Creek, is a rural romance written with a dual timeline. How did you come up with the idea?

Many years ago I read a book form my mother's bookcase, about a young woman who visited a cattle station and fell in love with a stockman, only to later discover he was of mixed heritage. The story was set in the 1950s when such things mattered! It resonated with me and became the premise behind Breakaway Creek.

Another storyline in the novel was inspired by people I knew who had been through marriage break-ups and subsequent custody battles over the children.

You have a small farm, you are heavily involved as a volunteer in your town and you work in a library – lots of places to get ideas, BUT where do you get your ideas  for your stories?
 

I wish I had more story ideas than I do. Generally an idea will come from real life, or perhaps something in a book I'm reading, which will resonate with me and spark an idea. Ideas can also be inspired by events in the news.

Tell us a bit about your current project?
 

It is set in rural Queensland in the 1890s.

When Mercy Forbes finds her abusive husband murdered, her shock is tempered with relief. But she hadn't expected the local Sergeant to include her and her son in his list of potential suspects. Add to that her growing attraction to the widowed Sergeant Morrison, and the situation becomes more fraught than she had ever bargained for.

Blurb:

Two city women - a century apart - find love and adventure in the Queensland outback.

Two love stories; two parallel lives; two destinies.

Set in the 19th and 21st centuries, Heather Garside's debut novel is a passionate rural romance of love and its consequences.

Shelley and Emma are separated by time but bound by a dark secret to a place called Breakaway Creek.

Betrayed by her long-term boyfriend, Shelley Blake has fled the city to return to her home town. Her interest in a photograph of her great-great-grandparents is piqued by her family's reticence about the mystery couple, and a search for answers takes her to the cattle station Breakaway Creek.

Here she meets Luke Sherman, a man embroiled in the bitter ending of his marriage and a heart-breaking separation from his two small boys.

Shelley resists an instant attraction to Luke, as neither is ready for a new relationship.

And, while Luke struggles to reclaim his children, Shelley uncovers the truth about her ancestors, Alex and Emma.

A story of racial bigotry and a love that transcends all obstacles takes the reader back to the pioneering days of the 1890s.

Bio:

Heather grew up on a cattle property in Central Queensland and now lives with her husband on a beef and grain farm in the same area. She has two adult children.

She has previously published three historical romances and has helped to write and produce several compilations of short stories and local histories. The Cornstalk was a finalist in the 2008 Booksellers’ Best Award, Long Historical category, for romance books published in the USA. Breakaway Creek was a finalist in the QWC/Hachette Manuscript Development Program.

She works part time at the local library, at home on the farm and helps produce a local monthly newsletter, amongst other voluntary activities.

 

Extract:

‘It shouldn’t be long now.’

Sarah wiped the woman’s sweating brow with a damp washcloth and hoped to God she was right. They were eighty miles from the nearest doctor with only an Aboriginal midwife and herself, newly married and ignorant. Things were looking desperate. After twenty-four hours in labour, Eliza was exhausted. The hot sun pounded on the tin roof of the maid’s tiny room and the heat from the kitchen next door exacerbated the stifling conditions. Sarah fleetingly pressed a hand to her own stomach and vowed her baby would be born in Clermont.

She flinched when Eliza screamed and threw her head back, dusky features clenched in agony as she writhed with another spasm. Sarah watched helplessly as the Aboriginal midwife made an exclamation in her own language and bent between the patient’s legs.

‘Is it coming, Mary?’ The woman didn’t answer, but Sarah heard the first tiny cry and her heart leapt in dizzy relief as the baby slid free. She moved closer to check. ‘You have a little boy, Eliza. Well done!’

 For a moment euphoria pushed aside Sarah’s revulsion. She hadn’t realised what a messy, terrible business childbirth could be. The midwife grasped the wailing infant and cut the cord with the kitchen knife Sarah had provided, before wrapping him in a blanket and laying him against his mother’s breast. Weakly, Eliza fumbled with her nightgown, so Sarah helped her open it and guide the nipple into the child’s nuzzling mouth. Then she stiffened. For the first time she noticed the baby’s skin through the coating of blood and mucus. Her stomach cramped.

‘Missus!’

Her gaze jerked up to the black midwife’s frightened face.

‘What’s wrong, Mary?’

Mary pointed and Sarah stepped cautiously closer, nostrils twitching at the metallic smell; blood. It gushed from the birth canal, staining the bed linen in an ever-widening tide. She grabbed some towels and pressed them against Eliza’s body, but they did little to staunch the flow. Mary ran to the doorway and grabbed her dilly-bag, then moved the towels aside to pack handfuls of leaves in their stead. Sarah watched in dismay, wondering if the woman had any idea what she was doing. But who was she to stop her?

A touch on her arm made her look down at Eliza’s greying face.

‘Missus, will you look after my baby?’

The voice was reduced to a whisper, the dark eyes dull. Eliza was slipping away as surely as the blood poured from her body. Sarah glanced at the suckling infant.

‘Who’s its father, Eliza?’

Eliza’s lips moved and Sarah bent closer to hear the whispered words. She froze, all her suspicions crystallising into grim knowledge. Wave on wave of pain and disillusionment lashed her like the sting of the stock whip her husband used on unruly cattle.

Could she possibly take responsibility for this child? She wondered if she had a choice. Sarah straightened, drew her breath in deep, and said the words – God help her – she knew the dying woman needed to hear.

‘Yes, I’ll take him for you, Eliza.’

 

May I introduce: Sarah Belle "Hindsight"

I have the pleasure to introduce you all to another wonderful and talented Australian author:

 

Sarah Belle



 

Today Sarah's not only telling us about her latest release "Hindsight" published by Harlequin Escape, but despite being busy with four young boys, she also took found some time answer a few of my questions ... one of them how to find time with four young kids !

Blurb:
Humour, wit, and just a touch of humility: the swinging 60s as you’ve never seen them before! 

The universe has sent Juliette a sign. She wishes it had been an email instead...  

Juliette’s career is on fire, her marriage and family are in melt-down, and a red-hot goddess wants her husband. But those are the least of her worries when she wakes up on her lounge room floor in
the year 1961.

Without any of her modern conveniences — nanny, housekeeper, surgically attached mobile phone, designer wardrobe, and intravenous lattes — Juliette is just over fifty years out of her comfort zone. But as she takes on the role of a 1961 housewife, with gritted liberated teeth, she discovers an unexpected truth: slower doesn’t mean boring, at home doesn’t mean dull, and priorities don’t mean sacrifices.

As she finds unexpected friendships, a resuscitated love life, tragedy and triumph, Juliette begins to wonder if she really wants to return home after all.

1 – What gave you the idea for the story?

It came to me one morning when I found a wedding ring on the bedside table. It wasn’t mine or my hubby's, and I thought ‘imagine if I put this on my finger and take on the life of that person’. Then it grew from there – what if I walked into my family room and everything was different – like 1961 different, but my family were the same and were unaware of the change. How would I cope as a housewife in 1961 when I am so used to all the conveniences, and modern values now? Somewhere between plotting and going with the flow the story came to life over a 2 year period.

2 - What made the 60s so special to you to choose that decade?

My older brothers were born in 1960 and 61 so between my Mum and Aunty, I had first hand accounts of what life was like for women during that period. Much of the 1961 element of Hindsight is modelled on my Mum and Dad- the vegetable garden, the home brewing of beer and mead, the dance at the Savoy Plaza, the simplicity of life and closeness of family. My mum would always tell me stories about her childhood and the 60’s and it absolutely fascinated me – it always seemed so glamorous. I loved her stories of how much of a community the neighbourhood was and that everyone would help each other out. They all celebrated and commiserated together, which is a far cry from what happens today. I don’t even know the majority of my neighbours! The 60’s was also an amazing time in history because the older generations had lived through both wars and the depression – which is my favourite time in modern history. The strength of those people was inspirational – we think we have it tough now, but imagine sending your brothers and father off to the First World War, surviving the Depression and then sending your sons off to the Second World War. It’s just unthinkable, and yet those women lived it. The character of Gran Leticia is actually based on my own Great Grandmother.

3 – You have four beautiful sons. Please tell us the secret of the perfect balance between motherhood and being writer?

Lol! I wish I could strike the perfect balance – I’m not sure there is such a thing because each day brings different challenges for both me and my boys. They are aged 4, 6, 8, and 10 so they aren’t independent yet, which adds to the workload. I just divide my time between things I can do when my kids are around, and things I can’t do when my kids are around. For example, I don’t spend my kid-free time doing laundry or housework – that’s for writing activities only. I’ve learnt to work with them fighting and arguing and wanting something every three minutes, and all that chaos probably forms part of my voice and writing style. But it’s important to stop writing (at the computer because like most writers, I am always writing or plotting in my head!), and spend time with them. They will only want to spend time with me for a few more years, before they turn into teenagers! I turn off from about 4.30 each afternoon and devote my time to being a mum – when I make the nutritious dinner that no one wants to eat, pick up discarded clothes off the floor and tell them seven times to brush their teeth!

Sarah Belle author links:

Facebook   https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sarah-Belle-Author/181235018692696?ref=hl
Twitter link   https://twitter.com/SarahBelle44
Website : http://www.lovesarahbelle.com
Blog:  http://www.sarahbelle.me/
Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/Sarah-Belle44

 
Buy Link (Escape Publishing):  http://www.escapepublishing.com.au/product/9780857990587

Excerpt from Hindsight.

In this scene Juliette has been in 1961 for two weeks. For the first week her kindly neighbours provided meals as she recovered from her head injury, which caused memory loss. In reality, Juliette has no memory of her 1961 life because she has time travelled backwards from modern day, where she is a career woman/mum, who has no idea of how to cook.

Sadly, for my family, the neighbours’ hospitality ran out last Saturday. We had enough leftovers to cover us for Sunday dinner, the Last Supper as it was termed in my mind. Each night dinner has been put on the table, with varying degrees of success. There was the meatloaf, which has been renamed ‘meat brick’ due to its crunchy texture and brick-like exterior, the tuna casserole that looked and tasted like ‘fish Playdoh’, the lamb chops that could double as hammers, the egg and bacon pie that had cracks akin to the San Andreas fault line, curried sausages that exploded in their skins and ended up looking like circumcised penises bobbing around in luminous yellow goo and of course, tonight’s disaster, spaghetti bolognaise.

 “Smells…. nice, Jules, new recipe?” Chris asks as he dry retches his way through the kitchen to the bathroom with Ethan and Cal.

 “Ummm, yes.”

“Mmmm, can’t wait!” But the look on his face tells a different story.

From behind the bathroom door I can hear Ethan ask, “Dad, has something died in the kitchen?”

“No mate, why?”

 “Then what’s that awful smell?”

“Shhhh, Eth,” Chris answers him quietly. “I think it’s meant to be dinner.”

“Does that mean we have to eat it?”

There is a pause before Chris says, “Yes mate. Your Mum’s working hard to make dinner and we have to remember that she has lost her memory. We need to be really understanding and patient with her, OK?”

 “Maybe she forgot how to cook? She keeps burning my toast.”

Chris sniggers. “Mine too.”

“Hey Dad, maybe she’ll forget to serve it to us?”

May I introduce - Aussie Author LILY MALONE

It's an absolute delight to welcome Lily Malone to my blog today.

I've only recently read her book "The Goodbye Ride" and can honestly say it's been one of the best reads this year. It tackles issues of today's society with subtlety and wit, without losing the sincerity of her words. And yes, I have learnt a bit more Aussie slang!

PS - And doesn't she look great with that pink beanie !

Casual comment cuts too close to the bone

 

A few weeks ago in Australia there was an outcry over an alleged comment made by a 13-year-old girl to one of our country’s star Australian Rules’ football players, Adam Goodes, during a game between Sydney Swans and Colllingwood. The girl was in the crowd. The news stories I’ve seen reported that she called Goodes an ‘Ape’...

Adam Goodes is an Indigenous (Aboriginal) player, and one of the most decorated footballers in the history of the game, winning two Brownlow medals. (For any international readers, it is the equivalent of being named MVP in the National Basketball League...)

This incident has been on my mind in recent weeks because of the term that arose out of it: ‘Casual Racism’, and because of a scene in my new novella, The Goodbye Ride.

As I understand it, ‘casual racism’ infers: that people have grown so accustomed to racist/discriminatory language in everyday life; at school, at barbecues, in shopping centres, on sporting grounds, in our homes; that they no longer consider the use of these words as being actively racist (or sexist or whatever). People using these terms don’t consider them to be deliberately offensive, and/or don’t recognise how hurtful they are to the marginalised people/person.

You might remember a few years back, when golden girl swimmer, Stephanie Rice, sent a tweet after a winning Wallabies’ rugby game along the line of “suck on that faggots”. That caused similar outrage at the time.

Why do I raise this on Iris Blobel’s blog? (You won’t ask me back again will you Iris!?)

Well... Iris invited me to write about my new novella The Goodbye Ride, and, seeing as Iris is one of my football-loving writer mates (have you been following her AFL TuesdayTales?) it seemed like a great opportunity to kick this thought around (pardon the pun).

The Goodbye Ride has a scene where a secondary character (Mark) is watching an AFL game on football. Like thousands of AFL fans, Mark gets rather passionate watching his team, and when his team is losing, he also gets abusive.

My husband said to me (after he read The Goodbye Ride) “I don’t sound like that when I’m watching the Adelaide Crows, do I?”

“No dear...” I fobbed him off... but the truth is - yes - my hubby does yell at the television during football games, when the Crows play badly he’s like a bear with a sore head. I don’t think he’d use the term ‘playing like a bunch of faggots’ but he might say “you’re tackling like a girl”... which in its own way is just as bad! Give me long enough to dwell on that and I might get offended...

This is an excerpt:

“Aw fuck, Crows!” The shout erupted from the hall, making Liv jump. The football game volume cranked up a notch.

Owen’s gaze never wavered from hers. “Sorry about Mark. He’s a mad Crows’ fan. You were saying?”

“The day my brother died–”

“Christ! Tackle like you mean it Crows. You’re playing like a bunch of faggots!” Mark roared.

Liv pushed her plate across the table hard enough to make Owen thrust out his hand to stop it bull-dozing his juice. Her half-eaten sandwich bumped and skidded off the plate and she was on her feet, hands balled into fists.

From the hall, the television coverage cut to the upbeat jingle of a burger chain advert.

“I hate the word faggots,” she said.

“Mark doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Liv’s chin came up. “The minority get heard when the majority stay silent, Owen. It happens all over the world. It happens every second of every day.”

 

And this is another side to ‘casual racism’. People are so accustomed to the use of this language, they excuse those who use it (like Owen does in The Goodbye Ride) with “he didn’t mean anything by it.”

I didn’t mean to make the character of Mark deliberately sexist or racist. I did set out to make him a typical 20-something country Aussie bloke in a football-mad part of Australia... and I used him to counterpoint a more sensitive side to Owen.

But Mark was so easy for me to write! What does that say about me and the people I hang out with? Is it characterisation by osmosis?

In the book, Olivia reacts to Mark’s use of the word ‘faggot’ and calls him out. Would I do that? Would you?

Since the football incident, I’ve felt like there’s a social comment in The Goodbye Ride that I never intended to make. A casual social comment if you like.

Have you had a writing moment like that?

 

You can find out more about Lily Malone on her Facebook page,

www.facebook.com/lily.lilymalone

or at her blog,

www.lilymalone.wordpress.com

Or at twitter, @lily_lilymalone

 

The Goodbye Ride is available exclusively at Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/The-Goodbye-Ride-ebook/dp/B00CV2MGCK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1371348141&sr=8-1&keywords=lily+malone+-+the+goodbye+ride