The Countdown For The New Sophie Novel Has Begun

My next Sophie novel, Danger, Desire & Double A Batteries will be ready for release as an ebook in a few weeks. It's my first adventure into self-publishing and I'm a little nervous about the process...but also more than a little excited. It's been a full year and a half since the last Sophie novel was released by Mira (click here for the drama filled story as to why it took so long for me to write the next one) and I'm hopeful that Sophie will continue to hold on to the support of the readers who have stood by her from the beginning as well as attract new readers who will befriend her. Below is the prologue. If you like it and want to continue to follow the story I'll be posting more pages on The Next Sophie Katz Adventure blog every Friday.

Hope you enjoy it!

Prologue 

  People who really hate you don’t usually call you up for a chat, particularly if they know their animosity is mutual.  Sure, an enemy might gossip about you behind your back or, if you’re an author like me, they’ll probably give you a one star review on Amazon (if you’re a business owner with enemies it might not hurt to check your Yelp page).  But it’s rare that someone will pull out their smartphone and waste precious calling-minutes and dwindling battery power just so they can rattle off a few tightly phrased insults.  Not if they have a Twitter account.

            So when Fawn called I knew something big was up.  There are few people who I hate more than Fawn.  For one thing she slept with my friend Mary Ann’s boyfriend, Rick.  Of course Rick is what the British would call a wanker and Mary Ann has now moved on to Monty, a better and slightly less annoying guy who has offered her love, fidelity, an engagement ring and a very generous pre-nup. So under different circumstances I would have considered Fawn’s affair with Rick something to be grateful for.

            But sadly it’s not that simple. Fawn is one of those people who goes out of their way to make others miserable.  She’s vengeful, catty, jealous, and to use Mary Ann’s words, “just ewwy.”           

She is also in jail. She and Rick got into a lovers spat which ended in an attempted murder charge.  Karma’s a bitch, but apparently not as big of a bitch as Fawn.

            Which means that this woman wasn’t just using up minutes on her cell phone plan to talk to me. She was using up the week’s worth of phone time allotted to her by the California State penitentiary system.   You didn’t do that just to be a pest.

            “Hello Sophie, did you miss me?” That’s how the conversation started, with her caressing my name with a soft and zealous malice.

As it turns out, Fawn had learned of a secret my live-in boyfriend, Anatoly, had been keeping from me.

            Anatoly is the first man I have ever truly loved. I love his hands, I love his little half smile, I love the way his Russian accent gets a little heavier after I’ve kissed him a few times.

            I love the way he argues with me when I’m feeling quarrelsome and the way he comforts me when I’m feeling lost.   I love that after six years together the passion and tenderness has only grown.

            Fawn called to tell me Anatoly had a secret or, to be more specific, she called to tell me that Anatoly had a wife.

            I knew when I heard those words that she wasn’t lying. It would be too easy to disprove. Of course the marriage had to have ended before we met, that much seemed obvious, but why hadn’t he ever told me about this?  After all, I had been divorced too so I wouldn’t have judged him. What kind of person keeps a failed marriage secret from the woman he shares a home and a bed with? A man who can’t be trusted, that’s who.  A man who is incapable of letting anyone in. Ever. 

It didn’t feel like Fawn was torturing me with her horrid little phone call. It felt like she was destroying me. 

This information was going to cost me both my relationship and the happiness I had spent so many years trying to cultivate.

            What I didn’t understand at the time was that the information also had the potential to cost me my life.

Kyra "Fashionista Fatale" Davis

Leslie Langtry - Author, Patriot - Now With Cute, New Glasses

Sgt. Jessica Barney, Moi, and Sgt. Jacqueline Kessler

I attended Sgt. Assassin's military formal dinner this weekend. And I found out that I have fans in the US Army! That's right. Leslie Langtry is serving her country...without the really hard basic training or complete lack of style in military-issue shoes.

I'm pictured here (aren't my new glasses cute? - the ones my kids didn't notice for two days until I told/screamed at them) with the lovely Sgts. Jessica and Jacqueline - both who have read all my books and loved them, naturalmente. They even insisted I have this picture taken with them. Of course, I acquiesced because I love America (and because if you praise me, you can pretty much get me to do anything...well, except for lick a spider - I'm not stupid enough to do that again).

There is something deeply satisfying in knowing I made these women laugh. And even more so because they do a tough job. Both served in Iraq with Sgt. Assassin for a year. That was a tough deployment. I'd like to think I made it a little bit more tolerable. But then, I'd also like to think I don't have a swearing problem - just a mild, slightly more offensive form of Tourette Syndrome that only happens when I'm mad at my kids, usually at Walmart.

So, here's to you, Sgt. Barney and Sgt. Kessler! And thank you for all you do!

The Assassin

How Brave Are You?

WINNERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I pulled three names out of the hat. Linda, Kima, and TerriO. So guys...email me at christie(at)christie(-)craig.com. Give me your address and your size. T-shirt runs small.

CC

Quick question — how brave are you? Now, I don’t mean, would you go rushing into a burning building to save your neighbor’s cat. Nor do I mean, would you grab a flashlight and head off to the attic at the stroke of midnight when you hear some strange noises that could only mean one of two things — your attic is haunted or there’s a family of antisocial raccoons living up there. Nope. Both of those things require bravery but it’s not the kind I’m talking about. I’m talking about being brave enough to be true to yourself, even when it may result in other people’s disapproval. Brave enough to do what feels natural to you, even when everybody else may think your choices are weird.

Now, I come from a long line of Southern women who’ve displayed that kind of bravery. I think I told you guys about my great-grandmother Plummer Bronson, who was a healer and used to talk the burn out of people. This all happened a little before my time but I’m sure my great-granny experienced her share of stares from people who just didn’t understand. Not that it ever stopped her from doing what felt right to her. She had the kind of wisdom that only comes with age, with having lived a life to the fullest.

I admire those kinds of women — Women who are brave enough to follow their hearts and be true to themselves. Women who continue to nurture their spirits, who don’t stop growing, exploring. Living. If you’ve read any of my books, you’ve seen this type of women in my stories. Remember Nana in Don’t Mess With Texas? An older wise woman who spoke her mind and did things her way.

And that’s why today I’m going to tell you guys about a lady who exemplifies all of that and more. Her name is Pat Richardson. I met Pat through my writing career. She’s the Managing Reviews Editor for Fresh Fiction and she owns a bookstore. Just my kind of lady. But Pat’s more than just a lady, she’s a lady with spunk. And I like spunk. She’s also a great-grandmother. So what makes her so brave? Well, last summer, she marched herself into a tattoo parlor and got herself a tattoo. And as soon as I heard about it, I knew I had to interview her for our Killer Fiction readers. I mean, come on, how many great-grandmas do you know who just got their first tattoo?

CC: When did you get the tattoo?

PR: I got the tattoo in August. I’m attaching the picture. It was taken the same day so the leg is a little bit swollen around the edges.

CC: What inspired you to get it?

PR: I just decided it was a funky thing to do but it took two years to convince my husband, even though he has one. My kids could not understand why I had to have his permission, being the old lady that I am. I have an online bookstore called PatCat Books – http://www.patcat.net/ - so I had designed this in my head a long time ago. I wanted a book with a cat on top of it. Of course, my tattoo in my mind was a lot smaller than what I ended up getting. And I still look down and think, wow, I did this.

CC: How old were you when you got it? You are a great grandmother, right?

PR: I am 67 and, yes, I have 8 grandchildren and 8 great-grandchildren.

CC: Okay, I gotta ask this — Did people think you were crazy when you did it?

PR: Some did. It appeared on Facebook before I even had it done and one of my daughters just about had a fit, but the other one cheered me on. But of course, she has three tattoos of her own.
CC: Did you think you were crazy?

PR: LOL. After I got it done, I thought, Dear God, what did I do? But then, I thought, Yay me! I did something I never thought I would do.

CC: What are some funny anecdotes about getting it? I know one of your grandchildren thought you were mad at grandpa. Can you tell me about that and any other funny ones?

PR: As I said, the tattoo was on Facebook before I even had it finished. My family knew my hubby and I had been having a disagreement about something else and they didn’t know I had talked about it before I had it done so they thought it was a spur of the moment thing. Within ten minutes of my having it done, my oldest grandson called his momma and said "Boy, Mimi must be really pissed at Papa to do this." LOL. A half an hour later, everyone in my family knew about it and a whole lot of friends — both mine and the friends of my kids and grandkids — knew about it, too. The power of Facebook is really amazing.

One of my sisters thought I had totally lost my mind and the other one said, “You go, girl!” My husband had been up at our lake cabin when I did this and I never said a thing to him about it. After about three days, he finally asked if I was ever going to tell him. I said, “Nope.” I told him that if he didn't notice it on his own, I wasn't going to show him. My Momma didn't raise no dummy. LOL. The next day I went to our book club tea and it took about 15 minutes for everyone there to notice my tattoo. One of the ladies told me I was now a tat slut but if I got more than one, I would be a tat ho. Guess I will stay a slut because one is enough.

CC: Oh, that’s too funny! Have you had any reactions from strangers to your tattoo?

PR: A few weeks after I got it, I was at a thrift store looking at books when one of the workers said "Oh, look at the kitty." I immediately looked under the rack, hunting for a little kitty. I told her, I didn't see it and she said, “I meant the one on your leg.” Talk about feeling like a big dummy.

CC: Any regrets?

PR: No, not at all. I figured I am old enough to know my own mind and I also figured at my age what is going to droop has already done so, so at least the tat will not stretch out too far. I had one lady show me hers after I had mine done. It was a rose and she said after all these years it was now a long stem rose.



I told you guys Pat is an amazing woman, didn’t I? So what about you? Have you ever been as brave as Pat? Have you ever done anything that other people may have disapproved of, but you knew in your heart it was right for you? If so, I’d love for you to share your experiences. And today, in honor of Pat, I’m going to give away a Shadow Falls T-shirt to one lucky poster. So make sure you post your comments.

As for me, well, I don’t see a tattoo in my future, but I’m sure I’ll raise some eyebrows as I continue to write my books, with humor, heart and heat. Hey…I don’t think we ever grow too old to enjoy some romance.

CC

MAN THEORY - by Guest Blogger Vicki Batman (hosted by Killer Fictionista Diane Kelly)

I am thrilled to host one of my writing buddies, Vicki Batman, here at Killer Fiction today! Vicki's a hoot - you'll love her. Read on to find out her theories about some strange and wonderful creatures - men.

MAN THEORY by Vicki Batman

I showed the cover to my new short story collection to my men and they died laughing. I knew the title was funny, but that funny? They asked, "What do you know about men?"

A lot more than they think.

I come from a family of four girls. So, yeah, I didn't really-really know men. But lots of water has passed under the bridge, and here's some things I have observed over the years:

- men talk short
- snakes--what's the problem?
- smell good after a shower
- cars = speed
- shopping is for food and guns, athletic stuff, computer
- clean house???
- wash clothes when out of clean underwear
- meat, meat, meat
- what's wrong with what I'm wearing?
- love their pets
- action movie vs. romance -- uh, no contest
- socks are an accessory
- sleeves are for nose wiping

My quick short story, Man Theory, is about a geek who espouses his theory about love. Here's a fun excerpt:

"I have a theory about love.”

Ethan's statement knocked me from the proverbial mountain top. Eyeing him, I clapped my hand across my mouth to stifle a giggle.

From Day One at our new jobs at Prime Designs, Ethan and I had forged a friendship. I was the artsy-heartsy, emotional gal. Him--the technical, by-the-book pal. We ate an occasional dinner, watched a movie, whatever. Traded small gifts like coffee, a magazine, music. However, Ethan had never made an overture toward me.

Translated: Nothing intimate.

I'd said to myself, "Rats."

For work, we'd traveled to Colorado Springs to attend a workshop on web design innovations. After check-in, I'd joined him at the bridge crossing the lake to decide about lunch before the meetings commenced.

My six-one geek wearing rimless glasses, leaned against the railing, and stared into the sparkling blue waters of the high mountain lake, and the feathered fowl paddling by.

Have his feelings changed? I asked in disbelief, "R-really? A theory...about love?"


What have you discovered about your man/men?

When you add to the list, your name will be added in a drawing for a free ebook (be sure to include your email).


Vicki Batman is kicking back with a diet Coke and torturing a new set of characters by playing "what if?" Find her at: http://vickibatman.blogspot.com OR at: http://plottingprincesses.blogspot.com

Man Theory and Other Stories will be available February 1 thru Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Morning (Afternoon and Evening) Sick

For anyone looking for a good read, my third Hollywood Headlines book, HOLLYWOOD CONFESSIONS is now free on Amazon.com!  

Just follow the link below, or go to Amazon.com and search for the title.  (Just be sure to click the formats book for the totally free version, not the version only free to Prime members.)  If you don’t have a Kindle device, you can still read the free book by downloading  the free Kindle app for your MAC, PC, ipad, iphone, android, blackberry, or other smart phone devices.

HOLLYWOOD CONFESSIONS free!

 This month I’ve been really slacking on the writing.  What to know why?  Two words: morning sickness.  Though why it is called morning is beyond me since, as most women who have been pregnant know, it’s morning, noon, and night.   For example, yesterday I got a call from a woman at the “advanced age mother’s program” at my insurance company.  (Thanks.  Now I feel better about myself.  I mean, I know I’m not 20 anymore, but do we really have to call it “advanced age”?  Couldn’t we call it “more prepared” or “more experienced”?  We are highly hormonal, you know.  People have been killed for saying less about pregnant woman at this stage.)  The woman asked me a series of questions about how my pregnancy was gogin so far.  When she got to the one about morning sickness, I had to laugh at her.  “How many of the last 24 hours would you say you have experienced any nausea?”

“Um, all of them?”

“And of the last 48 hours?”

“All of them.”

“And of the last-“

“Let me just save you some time here.   Whatever time frame you’re giving me, the answer is all of them.”

She then went on to ask what kinds of foods I was eating.  Did she not just hear me?  24/7 nausea.  I’m not eating food.  Okay, *chewing and swallowing* - toast.  Digesting - none.  Unless water counts as a food.   

Anyway, as you can imagine, it makes it a little bit hard to write.  Love scenes are DEFINITELY out at the moment.  (Why would I want to write about what put me in this position in the first place?!  Let me tell you, there would be a lot of condoms involved.)   My characters have not eaten a meal since the beginning of the book.  No food scenes whatsoever.   No humor scenes either.  It’s hard to think funny when you’re constantly running to pray to the porcelain gods.  Which basically leaves me with shooting scenes.  I’ve been shooting a LOT of people lately.  (See hormonal reference above.)  This book is going to be chock full of action.    

The one nice side effect of being newly pregnant?  My memory is totally shot.  I’ve completely forgotten when my deadline for this book is.  Convenient, right?  ;)

Okay, if anyone has any remedies for morning sickness, lay ‘em on me.  So far MetroMint peppermint water is my best friend, but I’m so open to suggestions!

     

~Trigger Happy Halliday

Oops!

Okay. I blew it. Today was my day to blog. And I knew it was my day to blog because I saw the reminder email that one of my fellow Killer Fiction bloggers set up to send to all of us to remind us when it's our turn.

But that was before I came down with a respiratory crud that came on fast and is still hanging on. Chills. Body aches. Cough. Fatigue. So, in spite of not being able to use the old "dog ate my homework" story I do have a legitimate reason to be posting this late.

And if being sick wasn't excuse enough, I'm also days away from my tax prep appointment. Seriously? The creeping crud and taxes in the same week? Tell me I've earned a pass this week.

On a happier note, I've finished the manuscript an editor requested the full of and it is on that editor's desk. Not one to sit on pins and needles while I wait, I've immersed myself in my next Calamity Jayne mystery and I must say, it's a joy to be back writing this series. I've really missed Tressa Jayne and the Grandville gang.

So, apologies to all for being late to the blog today. If anyone wants to make me feel better by sharing an example of the last time they spaced off something, chime in.

~Bullet Hole~

WARNING!

By Robin "Red Hot" Kaye




I have three teenagers and two of them are driving, so if you live in the state of Maryland, you might want to make sure you stay far away from any Blue Priuses.

Yes, child number one received his driver’s license on Friday and child number two is driving me and everyone else crazy since she received her learner’s permit.

Having mobile teens is good and bad. My son is now able to drive to school so I don’t have to pick him up after his JROTC duties. It’s also handy when I need a few things from the grocery store while I’m in the midst of cooking a meal.

On the down side, he thinks that since he’s able to drive, my car should be available to him at all times. He received his first lesson on that today when I said “No.” Of course I had to repeat it two more times just to make sure he got it into his head. And that was before he explained that I should allow him to drive the Sequoia to school since he’d get teased for driving a prissy Prius. That statement was met with a “Hell No!” after which I explained that if he was too embarrassed to drive the Prius, he was more than welcome to drive any other car he wanted—he’d just have to buy it first. Needless to say, he kissed me on the cheek and said, “I love you, Mom,” which is what he always says when he’s headed to the doghouse. Smart boy.

I don’t know about you, but I still have nightmares about driving with my parents. I’ll never forget the first time my father took me out to teach me to drive a stick shift. We lived on The Main Line of Philadelphia—think rolling hills—and Dad decided I should drive to Sears with him. Now my father, God love him, has never been the calm and retiring type—he’s the exact opposite. He spent the entire drive screaming at me and teaching me interesting combinations of curse words. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I was about to lose my lunch. I never wanted to be that parent so I had my husband, the calmest man I’ve ever known, teach the kids to drive—problem solved, right? Wrong.

My son knows me well enough to never drive with me. I’m not a good passenger on my best day. He’s like his dad—he's missing the loudmouth Italian gene and doesn’t tolerate screaming well. I think he’s secretly relieved he’ll never have to drive me anywhere while I’m conscious. My daughter, however, is a legend in her own mind. Twinkle Toes, never lacking in confidence, thinks she’s the best driver the lord ever put on four wheels and has never been fazed by my loudmouth Italian tendencies. The other day she begged me to let her drive home from the Starbucks. I figured, what the hell. We were only a mile away from the house, the car wouldn’t go above 30 miles per hour, and if I screamed at her, she really wouldn’t care. I did okay until we hit the driveway. Our driveway has a big hump in the middle and the Prius bottoms out on if you try to straddle it, so you have to drive with one tire on the hump, and the other very close to the grass, which then runs up a very steep hill. Twinkle Toes wasn’t sure of how far over she needed to be and the next thing I know, we’re off roading, which would have been fine in the Sequoia or the Jeep, but the Prius? I'm talking we're were at a 40-degree angle! I was screaming, which didn't faze her, but then neither did the fact we were off-roading. She looked over at me and gave me the teenage eye roll. if I didn't have my hand wrapped around the Oh-Shit-I'm-gonna-die handle, I would have smacked her.

She's fine, I, unfortunately, have yet to recover.

So who taught you how to drive? And are you brave enough and calm enough to teach your own kids? Any helpful hints?