Archives for posts with tag: Writing

via Let’s Talk About It: Small Press Publishing – Sci-Fi & Scary

Advertisements

Sally Cronin with a suggestion for authors as to how to get more reviews. Thanks, Sally!

I am very keen to make reviews a prominent feature of the book promotions and encourage readers to review the books that they buy and enjoy, or not as the case may be. Word of mouth is still the mo…

Source: How can we encourage more readers to leave reviews for our books? | Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life

Two of my favourite writers and supporters of writers in one post. Sally Cronin visits Ailsa’s Bingergread Cottage.

My dear friend Sally Cronin is coming in out of the rain today to sit by the fire and tell me about « Sally’s Café and Bookstore » so I’d better make some fresh coffee. Dig in to those patisseries,…

Source: Sally’s Café and Bookstore – The Bingergread Cottage

Amen! I couldn’t have said it better!

I have come to the following conclusion. Not all books that hit the charts are good. A lot of excellent books never sell. You can become a NYT bestseller by targeting carefully and working the syst…

Source: AM I WASTING MY TIME? | lucinda E Clarke

Great news! Sally Cronin has a new book out. If you follow her blog you’ll have read some of her short stories, and she’s publishing the first volume of a new collection. Thanks to Tina Frisco for her interview and for bringing us the good news.

Sally Cronin is a prolific author and blogger, a nutritional therapist, an ardent supporter of indie authors, and has worked on radio and Internet television as producer and presenter. She is origi…

Source: Sally Cronin, #Author | TINA FRISCO

Hi all:

You’ll remember author P.S. Bartlett has visited as before to talk about her great pirate series ‘The Razor’s Adventures’. Well, great news! There’s a new novel in the series Jaded Tides. And as I know we all find pirates and adventures irresistible, here she is! And we’re also taking the opportunity to remind you about the other books in the series. But first, a bit about her.

PS Bartlett Book Fair

Me and my fabulous pirate hat at the Baltimore Book Festival 9/25/15

I suppose it would be easy for me to just give the canned speech about myself in third person ( aka inside the backs of my books) but tonight, I’m actually in the mood to ramble on about myself…LUCKY YOU!

First, the canned speech:

P.S. (Peggy) has always had a love of books and writing. She also paints and draws and although writing takes up the majority of her free time by choice, she loves spending time with her friends and family.

Her first novel “Fireflies” was published in March of 2013 with GMTA Publishing and her second, “Hope From the Ocean” was published in March of 2014, also with GMTA.

As of March 2015, Peggy now independently publishes her own novels.

Peggy’s goal is to become a full time writer and spend the remainder of her days creating worlds, characters and stories that will carry on long after she’s written her last word.
Her motto is:
“I’m taking a fantastic voyage. Won’t you join me?”

A- Age: Seriously? Um…no.
B- Biggest Fear: Losing my loved ones.
C- Current Time: 8:29pm EST
D- Drink you last had: Coffee
E- Easiest Person To Talk to: My sister in law, Kim. We ride to work together every morning and ponder the universe.
F- Favorite Song: Right now, Go All the Way by the Raspberries. Something about that tune just makes me swoon.
G- Ghosts, are they real: Absolutely. Ask me sometime and I’ll elaborate.
H- Hometown: Baltimore, MD born and raised in the inner city.
I- In love with: My granddaughters.
K- Killed Someone: Only in my novels.
L- Last time you cried: Watching a video on Facebook. Sometimes those puppies and kittens are so damn cute!
M- Middle Name: Sue.
N- Number of siblings: 10. I’m number 11…yes, I’m serious. Unfortunately, there are only 5 of us left.
O- One Wish: To live long enough to see my grandchildren grow up.
P- Person who you last called: I just checked and it was my husband the other day.
Q- Question you’re always asked: How are you doing with the book thing?
R- Reason to smile: My grandbabies!
S- Song last sang: Fixer Upper from Frozen
T- Time you woke up: 6:50am
U- Underwear Color: Today? Beige
V- Vacation Destination: St Thomas.
W- Worst Habit: Grinding my teeth
X- X-Rays you’ve had: Recently, my right foot.
Y- Your favorite food: Japanese stir fry.
Z- Zodiac Sign: Aquariuuuuuuusssss….
How’s that? 🙂

Wow! Who would have guessed! Now…what you’ve been waiting for, her new novel! And a treat, the first chapter too!

 

Jaded Tides Front Cover

CHAPTER ONE – THRESHOLDS

When one finds themselves in a predicament where something they’ve longed for is finally in their grasp, it is customary for them to be grateful, thankful, and every other joyful emotion a living creature can feel. However, success itself is a predicament when you are standing with your arms full, without a free hand. That is precisely what I was feeling as I watched the Thunder Cay dipping forward until her bow was completely underwater. Within minutes, her stern rose up and it, too, vanished from view.
As I stood on the deck of the Demon Sea, surrounded by death, I was holding a life of my own in my hands for the first time, and I hadn’t stopped for a second to consider it. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe I was at the summit of anything but the first of a hundred mountains I’d yet to scale. As I bathed and dressed my crewmen’s injuries and drew that burning needle through wound after wound, a numbness from my newly acquired familiarity with the blood of battle grew within me. With every scream and shriek of agony, a cold shudder would shake me and keep me in motion. The inertia of constant stillness within me declared I’d crossed a threshold from which I could never go back.
I wanted to feel. I wanted to care. I wanted to cry or shout or perhaps even vomit, but there was nothing. Once my clothes were splattered and soaked with the blood of men I hardly knew for maybe the third or even the fifth time that morning, I reached a point where I could neither see it nor feel its sticky chill against my skin. My face went flat, and my voice was silenced, and somewhere a compartment in my brain opened up and collected it all until I was through. When the last man was laid in his hammock by late afternoon, I stood on the deck and washed all of them away with a bucket of water and soap, snuck away to the girls’ cabin, and changed my clothes as if nothing had happened.
They were visibly shaken, but silent as well. Yet I knew their silence was far different from mine. Theirs was sadness and regret. Theirs was exhaustion, disgust, and sympathy. I hadn’t seen them this way since the night of the pirate raid in Charles Towne, and as with that night, my next thought was that there had to be something on this ship in a bottle that would soothe me again and help me find my voice, as well as my spirit.
I found one alright, and it found me. I carried it close as I drug myself along the gangway in the shadows to my swaying bed. I stood there, looking at the two empty hammocks, and swallowed a long drink. Almost immediately, my insides felt warm and sweet, and I rushed it to my mouth again. I strained to hold my eyes steady and leaned against the beam that kept my bed suspended above the floor. I stared at the vacant place where hours before I’d smiled to myself while listening to River Watts’s voice. I was glad we took down Thunder Cay for what they did to River, and I’d have murdered every last one of them myself had we not.
My heavy eyes and vacant soul longed for sleep, and my hunger for revenge, sated with the peace of sweet vengeance, afforded me the right to rest my head. Then, all at once, a sadness came over me, and I slid myself into his hammock while clutching my cozy glass rum filled blanket and fell into a deep sleep.

We’d reached Port Royal by nightfall as Captain Rasmus Bergman predicted, and he found us a charming inn a few miles from the McCormack estate. It was all white and sat quietly on a hill, surrounded by a lovely garden. A stone pathway wrapped around from the front to a spacious courtyard. The house was home to a minister and his wife, who rented out the rooms to support their small parish on the estate.
Rasmus insisted that I stay there with the girls at night, but I spent the majority of my days on the Demon Sea with him, helping with the repairs to the ship and plotting our course to take down the filthy business of smuggling girls. When I’d been able to get a peek inside that book of Barclay’s, I was shocked at the number of young women, some as young as fourteen, whom these men were ferrying to islands throughout the Caribbean from as far away as America and even England. What they’d been doing was no different than a slave trade, and I was hell-bent on putting a stop to it, aside the man I loved.
Spending all of my time with Rasmus had turned my life from fear and uncertainty into a reason to breathe. Throughout our unorthodox courtship of swinging mallets and sanding deck boards, we’d grown to know everything about each other that two people who were planning a future together could, or should, know—at least, that’s what we believed. That comforting numbness the bloody battle had left me with had completely settled into its compartment in my mind, and I was able to keep it locked away most of the time, but in those hours I shared with him, I found the most peace.
He’d sworn not to lay a hand on me again until he made me his bride, which was extremely disappointing to me at first, but I trusted that he knew what was best. I put all of those swirling emotions to use through the sweat of hard work. I envied his restraint and thanked God for it, because at the time, I had none at all. Just watching him working on that ship shirtless, glistening in the sunlight or the rain, sent deep feelings of desire to places within me I longed for him to find. I wondered, though, if the idea of him making love to me only excited me until the realization that it would inevitably happen scared me to death.
Day in and day out, I’d rise before the sun, saddle my sweet horse, Peppi, and start off down the road to the wharf to meet Rasmus and the crew. My first job as a real sailor was sewing sails. I hated it. My fingertips were raw and had more holes in them than a sponge. I tried to use the leather gloves Rasmus had given me out of pity, but my hands swam in them, and they made things even worse. I never complained. I never even so much as winced as I drew that needle through and through. When I was finally done, the callouses had hardened until I knew I was pricked only when I saw the droplets of blood.
I was a young man named Razor in the eyes of the crew, and so far no one suspected otherwise. I was questioned once by one of the old crew we called Fin, as to why I didn’t sleep aboard the ship. He was one of Barclay’s old crew, and although he seemed decent enough, I still harbored doubts of any man who’d sailed with a captain like that. I wove a story that I had three sisters I had to watch over at night. He simply nodded and went on about his work. Since he liked to talk most of the time, I just listened.
On one occasion, he told me of how he missed his home back in Ireland, and his light brown eyes sparkled as he spoke. Lying became a way of life for me, and as long as I made the stories simple, they were easily recalled and repeated. Not speaking much at all, however, was much easier.
“Razor, if you’re finished with those sails, we can use some help sandin’ down these new starboard gunnels!” Captain Bergman shouted to me… but I was starving.
“Have we any time to eat, Captain?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the midday sun until he approached me and blocked it with his big silhouette.
He checked his pocket watch and turned his head to the sun and said, “Look at the hour. Your stomach must be set like a watch, Razor. Okay mates, take a break. Hawk’s got some grub for ye all below.”
“Thank ye, Captain,” I muttered and stood as I straightened my ragged clothes and started off to eat.
“Razor, I’d have a word with ye,” Rasmus said as he stepped in front of me.
“Aye, Captain?”
He waited a few moments until the deck was clear and then patted me firmly on the back. “I have to give ye credit, little Razor, you’ve really pulled your weight getting her seaworthy.”
“Oh, she’s more than seaworthy, sir, she’s a real gem. I’ll be proud to sail her with ye, Captain,” I said with a smile and a wink.
“She’s all but finished. Just a few more nails and a bit of paint, and she’ll be ready. I just want ye to know I saw ye and everything you’ve done to help. Now, get ye some grub before those sea dogs finish it off.” He looked down and that curl grew at the corner of his mouth. I could barely see it anymore since he’d grown his beard. His amber mustache draped almost completely over both his lips, but I always saw his smile in his eyes.
“That means the world to me, Captain.” I was beaming at him, and I nodded and started to go when I felt his palm press lightly against my chest through my vest and binding.
“Tonight, our cove?” he whispered aside to me from the corner of his mouth.
“Yes, or I’ll feed ye to the fish,” I said with a laugh. After months of strenuous labor, my body was hard and strong. I knew every inch of this vessel and could climb the ratlines faster than any other lad on the crew. Yes, it’s true, I raced them all. Of course, they cited my youth and wiry stature as an advantage, but to me, they could use any excuse they had and I’d still be the fastest. I was, however, so ready for her to be finished. I couldn’t wait to get to sea and start hunting, but I also wanted to get on with spending as much time as I possibly could with Rasmus before we sailed. The knowing that by dusk I’d be draped in his waiting arms made those long hot days worthwhile.
With every evening we spent watching the sun set and the moon rise, I could see his desire for me deepen. His touch was determined and less fearful of exploring me, and his kisses were wet and seething with hunger. Somehow though, he always managed to find his head and stop before shattering that vow he’d made to bits.
He spoke of how well I’d sewn his wound and encouraged me to learn the ways of doctoring, in hopes that would be my place aboard ship. Yet he always wandered back to his true wish, which was that I’d just set those thoughts aside and be his wife and the mother of his children.
“Razz,” I said as I peeled myself away from him and sat up from the blanket in the sand to breathe. “Sometimes, I wish we never had to leave this beach.”
He laid there for a few moments, finding his own breath, and then leaned upon an elbow. His blank expression worried me until at last he spoke, “What would you say if I told ye you’d never have to leave this cove if ye didn’t want to?”
“Well, what will we do, pitch a tent?” I sniped at him and folded my arms.
He rolled up and sat facing me and chuckled. “Do you honestly think for one moment I’d allow my wife to live in a tent?” He mimicked my actions and sat straight-backed and folded his arms as well. “What sort of man do ye think I am, lass?”
“Well, I…” I stammered and looked into his light blue eyes, and I knew what kind of man he was. I pressed my lips together to hold in a laugh and gave him a smirk.
“I was going to surprise ye, but there’s no surprising ye. Now that the repairs and such are close to being finished on the ship, I’ll be building ye a house of yer very own right here.”
“You’re going to do it, Razz?” I said, sitting up from where moments before I had laid back in his arms, as he spoke of our own little home.
“How can I not? I can’t keep carrying on this way with you forever. It isn’t healthy for a man to get all stirred up night after night and have to jump in the sea to cool off. Besides, I can’t be bringing my bride to a ship, now can I?” He laughed and pulled me back into his arms. “Our own little love nest, aye?” He pumped his bushy red eyebrows and winked with a devilish grin.
“How long will it take?” I asked him as I pushed a long lock of that glowing fire away from his face and behind his ear.
“I figure I’ll round up a bunch of the lads from the Demon, and with a little gold and rum…the rum at the end of the day of course…we could have it put together in a couple of weeks. Which reminds me, by the way,” he said as he sat forward and reached into the pouch on his belt. “Stand up for me now, lass. If I’m going to take this leap, I’m going to need your hand.”
“What is it?” I said as I climbed to my feet.
I watched as he stood up in front of me and took my hand. “I’ve never even come close to doing anything this brave, Ivory Shepard. So, if I promise to give ye my love, my loyalty, and my big body to take care of ye, all I ask is your promise not to steal my heart and run off with it.” He knelt down on one knee in the sand before me and slid onto my finger a simple, but beautiful, gold band with one small, perfect white pearl. The pearl was laid into the band as part of the ring, not set on top as most rings were.
“Wait, does this mean…” I paused.
“It means I must have lost my mind, but there’s not another woman alive I’d rather lose it for. Will ye be my wife today, tomorrow, and for as long as ye can stand me?” he asked as he raised his eyes to meet mine and then reached again into that pouch and slipped the most beautiful jade bracelet on my wrist and tied it closed. Between the smooth stones of my favorite color, which were each about a half an inch in diameter, were small seashells. I knew before he even told me that they were shells he himself had collected and hand-picked.
“I’m frightened. What if I’m a terrible wife and won’t make you happy? There’s no chance I’ll run away with your heart, but I’m afraid I’ll not handle it well. You know how I am, Razz,” I said as my eyes beamed at his beautiful gifts for only a second before I reached out and took his splendid face in my hands and waited for one of us to say something—anything.
“You are my pearl. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. My heart is as big as my fist, and that’s a lot of heart to handle. I believe it can take any punishment you might put it through. But the point is, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he finally said.
I fell to my knees in front of him and shouted, “Yes!” again and again as he kissed my face from cheek to cheek, then my forehead to my chin, and then he swept me on top of him on the blanket. His hands pulled me so tightly against him that I began to fear what our first time together might be like. I was afraid the passion he’d suppressed for so long would leave me as no more than a sail battered by a hurricane. I panicked when I felt his hands sliding inside the back of my breeches and gathering my shirt between his fingers. I gasped and jumped off of him.
“What are you doing?”
He leaned upon one elbow and smiled at me. “I believed we’d crossed a threshold tonight, lass. I suppose I should have asked for your permission before I tried to remove your clothes.” He laughed.
“I don’t want to ruin this perfect evening, but I’m not ready yet. I thought I was, but I’m not. I promise, when I am, you’ll be the first to know.”
I knew immediately by the time I was back at the Chandler’s estate and tucked away in my bed, I’d regret this decision. In the end, waiting until I knew the time was right far outweighed a momentary leap over a line in the sand that I could never cross back over. Making love had now become a decision I wanted to make with the greatest of care. Having thrown myself at him before, only to be rejected, I didn’t want to ever rush things with him again.
Rasmus, the ever-patient, ever-strong and constant, wouldn’t be shaken by this rejection. I’d seen him at his best and at his worst and every way in between, and never once did I see any mood or emotion concealed. He’d have never tried to manipulate me through false sentiment or behavior to make me feel I’d disappointed him. I’d thought for a moment I had when he sat up and fell silent, staring at the lagoon but almost instantly, I knew the guilt was mine to bear. He carried on as usual, snuffing out the fire and gathering our things to head for home. I turned and looked back at this beautiful setting and imagined our little cottage. It didn’t take long before I could walk through the door.

Within a week, our quaint home near the beach was well under construction. All of the repairs to the Demon were complete, and she was like a shiny piece of gold. Rasmus had made some modifications, but for the most part, after having been careened, cleaned, and all signs of battle now nothing more than a memory, she was the finest lady in the harbor and looking for a capable crew.
After the battle with the Thunder Cay, some of the younger hands moved on to find work on land. They weren’t pirates as we knew pirates to be, and they certainly weren’t looking for a fight. Rasmus was a captain, not a jailer, and he still to this day refused to name himself as such. Piracy wasn’t in his blood; it came by him through an injection of betrayal and fate, and a man this mighty and absolute wasn’t going to be defined by his circumstances forever.
Unfortunately, I believed he loved me too much to deny me anything I wanted…I wanted the sea. I wanted to explore every aspect of discovering where it would take me, and most of all, I wanted to bring down every name in Barclay’s secret catalog of shame, and I wanted to do it with the man I loved.
Rasmus held tightly to the book and kept it hidden away. I believed he was afraid I’d go running off alone after them, but that wasn’t going to happen. I struggled each day aboard the Demon not to seek it out and memorize every last ship and captain, as well as the young women. Nearly three months had passed since we took down Thunder Cay, and I was aching to sail and get on with our mission. Rasmus wanted us married as soon as possible and refused to set sail with me again until I agreed to the doctoring and keeping what was now my short, scruffy blond head and every other part of me concealed. He also reminded me that I was never to enter his cabin alone. Having not yet felt the man’s love upon my body, I easily agreed.

As we’re all intrigued by her books, P.S. (Peggy) Bartlett explained a few things…

The Kind of Writer I Want To Be

I’ve believed since I dedicated myself to this journey two years ago that I knew exactly what kind of writer I wanted to be. Since I wrote the first sentence of my first novel, that dedication hasn’t wavered. A simple little sentence started it all:

“Ennis found a bird.”

I’ve had no formal training in this profession but I’ve done a ton of research, logged countless hours writing and I’ve dug in my heels. I’m not going anywhere.

I write fast. I think fast and once I set my sights on a goal I rarely give up unless I’m personally not satisfied with my level of performance or the quality of work I’m doing. So far, I see no reason to quit. As long as I keep breathing, moving, growing and evolving as a person, I’ll never stop.

It is important to me to produce quality books. Since I am still learning every day what that means to me and how it relates to my writing, I believe I can only keep improving. I’ve always loved writing and although I spent most of my adult life working, raising children and just trying to keep my boat right side up, I chose to put my aspirations on the back burner and take care of my family. I do not regret it one little bit. Through that journey, I learned so much about myself and gained volumes of experience at just being a human being. I’m proud of whom I’ve finally grown up to be and I need to be proud of the work I do too.

It’s a long road from writing your first page, to publishing. You will be knocked back more times than you can imagine. You’ll be told over and over again that your book “just isn’t what we’re looking for at this time.” Roadblock upon roadblock will rise up in front of you but you have to keep pushing on. Family problems, money shortages, day job, responsibilities and oh, that little thing called sleep will feel like a ball and chain at times but no matter what, you can’t give up. If being a published author is truly your calling or at the very least, your goal, allowing anything to stop you is not an option—no matter how long it takes or what road you take to get there.

The most important thing to me is that I write what I want to read. I want to write words that feel like warm butter on a hot roll. Words that get inside of you and either make you squirm or rise up inside of you and escape with a smile. Words that stick in your head and come to mind when you least expect it. I want to write stories that when you close the book, you want more. The reason I know how important writing what I want to read is, is because I’ve tried writing stories that may fall into one of the hot selling genres and I couldn’t get through the first chapter. You’ll know you’re writing what you want to read, when closing your laptop feels like kicking a heroin addiction.

I don’t want to write about what everyone else is writing about. I don’t need to sit at the cool kids table to feel good about myself. I know there are lots of genres and I know which ones sell the most. No, I’m not crazy and of course I want to make money and be able to write full time but I have to do it in a way I feel good about inside. I have to do it on my own terms. I have to tell a good story with characters you want to meet and know, and talk to again and again. I believe at some point I’ll be able to put almost anything into words but it has to be my anything, not what’s hot at the moment and not just because I want to be with the in crowd. My readers are out there and as long as I keep looking, I’ll find them and they’ll find me.

I want to stand out. I have this crazy dream that my stories will one day be considered as some of the best ever. I’ll stand by that. I believe that and soon, I’ll live that.

Thank you,

P.S. Bartlett – I’m taking a fantastic voyage. Won’t you join me?

http://psbartlett.me/

As promised, a reminder of the whole series:

The Razor’s Adventures Pirate Tales: The Series to Date

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00047]
IVORY DAWN: Prequel Novella
Ivory Shepard didn’t want to be a pirate when she grew up but she didn’t plan on being orphaned and alone at thirteen with her three cousins either.
After a Spanish raid in Charles Towne left them with nothing, Ivory held her cousins together, trained them to fight for their lives and led them to a life of quiet refuge on the banks of the Ashley River. Believing they were out of reach of the hands of unscrupulous men, they found life on the farm a tolerable substitute for the traditional alternatives life would force onto them—until the night the pirates showed up.
Unfortunately for the pirates, these handy young women were ready, and they weren’t going anywhere without a fight.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00070]DEMONS & PEARLS: Book One
Had I known the repercussions of murdering the captain of a pirate ship, I may have taken the time necessary to rethink the act. As if I’ve ever had a choice that didn’t involve a fight or at the very least, defending myself against some man, hell bent on destroying me or my kin.
All we wanted was our freedom. All we found were demons disguised as men.
A woman pirate needs friends, big strong male friends, to survive in this unforgiving land of thieves and murderers—at least until she gets on her feet. Of course, trying to find one person you can trust is like finding an oyster with a perfect pearl in it—you have to break a few shells and get your hands dirty. We were lucky. I found the biggest, baddest and most honorable man in the Caribbean and he just happened to be in the pearl business.

Jaded Tides Front CoverJADED TIDES: Book Two
After finding love in the most unlikely of places, Ivory’s life appears to at last be falling into place. Having proven herself a force to be reckoned with, she has at last set sail for the first time as a pirate. The only problem is she’s a woman and must disguise herself in order to set foot on a ship. Being in love with her captain isn’t helping matters either and whole new set of obstacles are presenting themselves at every turn. Her brash style and tenacity, however, could prove to make her, her own worst enemy.
With a sword in her hand and her new found love at her side, Ivory Shepard is about to embark on a mission to rescue and return every young woman she can who has fallen prey to the jaded tides of the Caribbean sex trade. Armed with a secret log book she acquired from a pirate captain—who also happened to be an evil smuggler, she believes herself well prepared for the task. As she’s already learned the hard way, pirates always prove to be unpredictable and ruthless. Unfortunately for them, so is she.

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000039_00019]THE BLUE DIAMOND – THE RAZOR’S EDGE: Ten years in the future…if you like to read ahead.
Ivory Shepard didn’t want to be a pirate when she grew up but she didn’t plan on being orphaned and alone at thirteen with her three cousins either.
After a Spanish raid in Charles Towne left them with nothing, Ivory held her cousins together, trained them to fight for their lives and led them to a life of quiet refuge on the banks of the Ashley River. Out of reach of the hands of unscrupulous men, they found life on the farm a tolerable substitute for the traditional alternatives life would force onto them—until the night the pirates showed up.
Setting foot on that first pirate ship was nothing compared to the life of freedom and adventure awaiting them, once Ivory and the girls were through playing nice. Only one man believes he can stop her and he won’t need a ship full of guns to do it.
If it were only that easy…

Amber Wake
COMING DECEMBER 2015: AMBER WAKE: GABRIEL FALLING
Where do I begin? That’s a difficult question in and of itself but when your life is transformed in a matter of minutes into something else, do you begin when you’re born or when your life truly began?
I was born in London as Gabriel Wallace, a child of high society; although I was raised to appreciate everything that softly landed in my hand. I followed all the rules. I worked hard, studied hard and ended up a captain in the Royal Navy before my twenty-fifth birthday. Unfortunately, I saw the world through my own eyes, not the eyes of the crown and my vision was clear. I knew my duty. I knew my job. I also knew deep down, regardless of the loyalty my commission required, my stance was in opposition and it was but a matter of time before I’d be forced to stand alone.
Fortunately for me, my crew was loyal too and I had the full support of my closest friend and confidant as well. I didn’t know where I’d end up but I knew one thing for sure; I needed to get the hell out of England and thanks to them, I was taking my ship with me.
Title: JADED TIDES
Author: P.S. Bartlett
Release Day: October 5, 2015
Genre: Historical Fiction/Adventure/Romance

Jaded Tides Front Cover
Blurb-
After finding love in the most unlikely of places, Ivory’s life appears to at last be falling into place. Having proven herself a force to be reckoned with, she has at last set sail for the first time as a pirate. The only problem is she’s a woman and must disguise herself in order to set foot on a ship. Being in love with her captain isn’t helping matters either and whole new set of obstacles are presenting themselves at every turn. Her brash style and tenacity, however, could prove to make her, her own worst enemy.
With a sword in her hand and her new found love at her side, Ivory Shepard is about to embark on a mission to rescue and return every young woman she can who has fallen prey to the jaded tides of the Caribbean sex trade. Armed with a secret log book she acquired from a pirate captain—who also happened to be an evil smuggler, she believes herself well prepared for the task. As she’s already learned the hard way, pirates always prove to be unpredictable and ruthless. Unfortunately for them, so is she.

Don’t forget to follow and connect with P.S.Bartlett everywhere:

Author Photo

Links:

Web Site: http://psbartlett.me/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/PSBartlett

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/PSBartlett

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheRazorsAdventures

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7012732.P_S_Bartlett

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/P.S.-Bartlett/e/B00CP4PF4U/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

Instagram: Author_P.S.Bartlett

Thanks so much to P.S. Bartlett for gracing these shores, thanks to all of you for writing, and you know, if you’ve enjoyed it, like, share, comment and CLICK!

Hi all:

As you know on Friday I bring you new books and authors. J.P. McLean has already been my guest before and her series (initially a trilogy, but these things have a way of growing…) The Gift has featured with pride of place before. I knew that the next novel was nearly ready, and the author has been so kind as to send us her reflections about her writing and where she is now. And here, the floor is yours, J. P.:

Author J.P.Mclean

Author J.P.McLean

Thank you, Olga for once again hosting me on your Friday guest author feature. It’s great to be back.

I’m at an interesting crossroads. Having recently released Penance, the fourth book in the contemporary fantasy series, The Gift Legacy, I’m now ready to start a new project. The decision is whether to take the road that leads to the next book in the series, or take the road not yet travelled, and write a brand new story instead.

On the familiar road, a small but devoted group of readers, who love The Gift Legacy, cheer me on (a writer’s dream!). I know the terrain and the characters and just how to tamper with their brakes to heighten the excitement.

There are no street lamps on the second road and no map. The characters taunt me with their thumbs out, but do I dare pick them up? Will we get along in the tight confines of the car?

What if there’s a curve so sharp we crash?

Hmm. Decisions, decisions. If you have thoughts on the matter, I’d love to hear them.

You can reach me through my blog, on Twitter (@jpmclean1) or on Facebook. And if you’d curious about The Gift Legacy, you can read excerpts and learn more about it on my website.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Thanks so much J.P.!

And here, I had to tell  you a bit more about Penance

The Gift Legacy Book 4. Penance by J.P. McLean

The Gift Legacy Book 4. Penance by J.P. McLean

When Emelynn Taylor chooses a man’s life over a secret, she draws the attention of the wrong people. International Covert Operations wields the secret like a weapon to coerce the Tribunal Novem’s cooperation. And all ICO wants in exchange for protecting the secret is Emelynn’s services.

With a new job, a new handler and no choice, Emelynn goes undercover to unravel a dangerous drug ring. She soon finds herself in a deadly game of cat and mouse in which she breaks all the rules: the same rules that got her into trouble in the first place.

Here the links in Amazon, although you can check J.P.’s website for more links and information:

http://www.amazon.com/Gift-Penance-Legacy-Book-ebook/dp/B00VYWHM40/

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gift-Penance-Legacy-Book-ebook/dp/B00VYWHM40/

Thanks so much to J.P. McLean for her book and her reflections (I hope you’ll give her some suggestions), thanks to you all for reading, and you know, like, share, comment and CLICK!

Ah, and as you know, I do reviews for BTS e-Magazine and just in case you want to have a look at the new number, here it is (there are a couple of mine):
//e.issuu.com/embed.html#5491198/13900468

Hi all:

I need your help once again. As you know I’ve been thinking about book marketing strategies, looking at what has worked well for me so far (? I enjoy the interaction with other bloggers and I’ve met very interesting people, both fellow authors and non-authors [not many left] but what might make a book sell remains a mystery to me), and what are the things that I haven’t tried.

From the very beginning I heard, and I was advised, to have a newsletter. As I didn’t have many (any?) followers at the time, and I wasn’t sure about my plans, I didn’t, and to this day I haven’t. I’ve read posts about the mechanics of it, possible tools, etc. I understand it is a way to be in touch with your readers (or clients if you do other things) and of collecting an e-mail list.

Angel with book

The reasons why I haven’t yet set up a newsletter are varied. I don’t know how much time I’d be able to dedicate to it. I translate, I blog, I read and review, I write… Life? What’s that? I know frequency can be varied but still… I write in different genres, and many avid readers readmostly within their preferred genre. Would I have to have different newsletters and different lists for different readers? Would I have enough to write in them? Or should I assume that people would read anything I write because it’s mine? (Ja!) Also, most newsletters offer something as a way of enticing people to sign. A PDF of some sort, a story. Many seem to be how to booklets but if one only writes fiction and with so much fiction already available free, what could I offer? (Yes I could translate a page for somebody but that might work for the translating, but not for the books, and it could end up being very labour intensive).

So, once more I’m looking for help from you, authors and anybody else who might have a newsletter. And from people who sign onto newsletters too. Or have an opinion.

To people who have newsletters: How often do you publish them? What kind of content you offer? Do you have a giveaway or special offer as a way of getting people to sign on the dotted line? What tools do you use in relation to it (to reply, to collect e-mail addresses)? If you write in different genres, do you have only one newsletter and mix content or would you publish a different newsletter for different topics? And, as I’m so terrible with designs and visuals, feel free to share yours in the comments, for inspiration (and of course, hopefully some people will sign).

To people who subscribe to newsletters (yes, I do sometimes), what encourages you to sign? What content do you like to see in them? How often is too often? What makes you unsubscribe? And, what do you think about the pop-up boxes? (I must confess I hate them with a passion).

Before I leave, I must make an apology and a confession. I got Sally Cronin’s (don’t miss her blog) invitation to the impromptu writing that is going around. I thought I’d do it over the weekend but still went to her blog to thank her. And being me, I was going to leave a comment and inadvertently read the prompt. So I ruined the experiment. Since then, I’ve seen quite a few people taking part, so I have no idea whom I might be able to invite. So, I’ve decided to file the idea and get it going again at some time in the future, when everybody has forgotten about it (and hopefully I’ve published the series, so I won’t have so many things in my head) and catch everybody unawares.

And, before I leave you today, and on the subject of letters…

Ketty Lester, because I love you all.

Thank you all for reading, and you know, like, share, comment…and if you want to CLICK somewhere, please, do!

Writer's quote Wednesday. Thanks to Silverthreads

Writer’s quote Wednesday. Thanks to Silver Threadings

Hi all:

I don’t know you, but I admire those who can be consistent and also get people to join in projects that inspire and cheer people up. I’ve been following the blogging adventures of Colleen Cheesebro of Silver Threadings for a while and wanted to join in one of her regular blogging features. As I love quotes (and because it isn’t technically very demanding) and at Colleen’s suggestion, I’ve been trying to join in her Writer’s Quote Wednesday. You can visit her blog in the link and join in by posting during the following week and Colleen will find you and post your quote together with many wonderful others. It’s always one of the high points of the blogging week, so…don’t miss it!.

And to today’s quote. After thinking about a variety of possible  quotes I got thinking about movies, and then, somehow of final lines. And this one was my first choice.

Nobody is perfect! From 'Some Like it Hot' Dir: Billy Wilder

Nobody is perfect! From ‘Some Like it Hot’ Dir: Billy Wilder

I love ‘Some Like It Hot‘. From the title, to the cast, the slapstick, the quick and witty dialogues…Just in case you’re not familiar with it you can check the link to IMDB above, but in brief, this film directed by Billy Wilder is the story of two musicians (played by Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon) who happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and witness the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in Chicago. Trying to escape their demise at the hands of the mob they find a job in a touring orchestra… Only it’s a female orchestra and that means our two friends spend a big part of the movie in drag (Tony Curtis is quite cute, Jack…). As a bonus, Marilyn Monroe is the singer of the orchestra. Love isn’t far for our friends and the ending is…

Here I leave you two links, so you can choose depending on how long you have, one to the short version of the ending (the ending proper) and one to a slightly longer version where you can see Marilyn too and a fair bit of running around. You choose!
Short:

Longer:

 

In the discussions in You Tube some people wondered if audiences today would still find it funny. I surely hope so.  And as somebody said in one of the comments, Billy Wilder’s endings are all worth quoting, so there might be more to come.

Thanks to Colleen from Silver Threadings for the invitation, thanks to you for reading and watching, and if you’ve enjoyed it, think about taking part (is fun!), like, share, comment and be happy! Because, nobody is perfect!

Hi all:

We’ve left 2014 behind and most people tend to take stock of what happened the previous year and think about the future. Plenty of things happened to me last year (and I’m sure the same goes for all of you) but I wanted to look at my writing and books.

Escaping Psychiatry cover by Ernesto Valdés

Escaping Psychiatry cover by Ernesto Valdés

In January 2014 I published Escaping Psychiatry. This book is a compilation of three novellas (psychological thrillers) with the same protagonist, Mary, a psychiatrist and writer whose attempts at dedicating herself exclusively to writing are thwarted once and again by friends or circumstances that keep dragging her back (kicking and screaming) into psychiatry. The three novellas: Cannon FodderTeamwork, and Memory are quite different in subject and touch on abuse, racism, prejudice, police corruption, murder, serial killers, rape…

If you want to check in more detail you can always look inside or get a sample, here:

http://bit.ly/Z4MyhI

Or in paper:

http://bit.ly/1uNckVu

This book is also my first one to be available as an audiobook:

http://bit.ly/1yFL1PC

And if you fancy listening to a sample you can check this video in You Tube:

http://youtu.be/oZyVpOdgqtc

Family, Lust and Cameras

Family, Lust and Cameras

In May 2014 I published a story that I had written a while back, but I felt was very appropriate to the times of surveillance and privacy invasion we live in, Family, Lust and Cameras. It’s a dark story of obsession, mind control and abusive relationships. Can you imagine what would you feel if your life became The Rear Window and you knew somebody was watching you all the time? Well, you can read this novella and see.

http://bit.ly/1uNdLDz

I Love Your Cupcakes cover by Lourdes Vidal

I Love Your Cupcakes cover by Lourdes Vidal

In September 2014 I published I Love Your Cupcakes, a sweet romance, where the three protagonists (Dulce, Adelfa and Storm) end up taking part in a TV baking competition and discover that one can find love in the most unlikely places. An upbeat and fun book to read, I recommend it if you’re having a fed-up day.

http://bit.ly/Z4QU8l

And in paper:

http://bit.ly/102LkEv

Angelic Business 1

In November I took part in NaNoWriMo and won! I decided to write the third in a series of Young Adult/New Adult books I’ve been working on. For the time being the series is called Angelic Business and the books are: Pink Matters, Shapes of Greg and Pink, Demon or Angel?

Angelic Business 3Pink Demon or Pink

Angelic Business 1 (mask)

As you can see I don’t have a cover yet, and as it’s going to be a series I’ll have to give it some thought.

I’ve published the draft of the first book in Wattpad (I’ll remove it when I publish it) and at the moment I’m editing and translating them all, with the plan of publishing them fairly close to each other…

Here is the link to the first one in Wattpad:

http://www.wattpad.com/myworks/12042085-angelic-business-1-pink-matters

Ah, and I leave you the link to another story I also published in Wattpad that at the moment I’m not thinking of publishing anywhere else:

http://www.wattpad.com/myworks/17213556-we-are-family

In case you want to check on the rest of my work and links to other versions of my books, here is my website:

http://www.OlgaNM.com

Now that I’ve told you what I’ve been doing and what I’m going to be doing, it’s time to wish you a Happy Year 2015, ask you about your projects and wish you good luck with them . And as always:

Thanks for reading, and you know what to do, like, share, comment, and if you fancy, CLICK!

The Midnight Ember

An Ember for Thought

Pointless Overthinking

Understanding ourselves and the world we live in.

MasticadoresdeLetrasColombia

Sitio oficial de la editorial Fleming. Editores: Hector Medina & J. re crivello

About A Book Club

Obsessive Reader | Perpetual Student | Crazy Cat Lady

My Paranormal Photography

I am not here to convince you of anything, I am just sharing my personal experiences

%d bloggers like this: