Thursday, November 8, 2012

Is Your Muse Wiggling A Finger And Saying Write... Write... Write...



It's check in day at the Rogues Angels blog. 

Time to pay the piper! How did you do?

This is the Rogue's Angels weekly check-in. Every Thursday we encourage the Angels and visitors to let us know how their writing is going.


How well are you doing?

Had problems this week? That's ok. Just sit down this coming week and write. Whatever you do, don't let difficulties from the week before get in your way this week.

Every word is one word closer to the finished product.

I made some new goals, tiny goals, and have been able to meet them. Set off for a birthday Disney World adventure so I haven't been writing for a couple of days. However, I have been taking tons of pictures.

Had a great week? Keep it up, the momentum is on your side.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

What To Do When It Rains... Curl Up And Read.

I love to read on a rainy day. Lately I've been so busy I haven't really had time to curl up and read. Here in Oregon it's been raining non-stop all week.  So today I mean to find a warm blanket and a good book and spend a portion of the day just for myself.

I'm going to curl up and read.


I Love the Highlands!

Highland Magic
Christine Young
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: www.roguephoenixpress.com

Scotland, Summer 1513:

For a moment the man's gaze met hers, bored into her heart, questioned. Blood curdling war cries rode the wings of death through the timeless night. Claymores clashed. Dark eyes the color of midnight flashed a challenge. The holy man's opponents hesitated then lunged once more.

Moonbeams reflected light from the gold chain he wore around his neck. Brown robes fell from massive shoulders. Three more enemies appeared from the trees. The priest fell to the ground, wounded by the broadside of his enemy's weapon. Motionless, he lay on her flower-strewn meadow, blood staining the grass and wildflowers, marring the colorful, summer landscape.

Keely Gray woke, heart pounding a rapid staccato. She pressed against her throbbing temples with sweat-slick palms, hoping to ease the horrific pain that always accompanied the dreams. Death--the scent of blood, fear and treachery still hung heavy in the darkened hut. The prickling sensation radiating from her spine to encompass her body was too familiar.

She listened and heard nothing.

A dark void impaled her. The usual night sounds stilled. She heard no hoot of owl, no chirp of crickets, no croak of frogs, nor could she hear the mournful sighing of the wind through the branches of the old oak trees.

Silence emptied her heart as well as her soul, leaving only an ever-present loneliness.

Keely wanted nothing more than to cuddle into her bed and pull the covers over her head. Despite the unspeakable agony deep in the pit of her stomach, she rose from her pallet. Her limbs trembling, she slipped a shapeless tunic over her head and soft-soled shoes onto her feet. As she swept past the front door, she grabbed her woolen cloak.

Light from a full moon illuminated the path. She could see, but she could also be seen, the moonlight both a curse and a blessing. Approaching the meadow she'd watched in her dreams, she slowed her pace and waited. Her fingers wound tightly around the amber pendant she always wore, her only keepsake from her mother.

The sounds and scents hovering on the wind would tell her if danger still lurked. Caution guided her. A vigilance she'd learned long ago held her motionless.

 A familiar dragging sound reassured her she wasn't alone. "Whipple?" she whispered.

A self-appointed guardian angel appeared as if from nowhere then nodded, though there was a wary cast to his faded blue eyes. "Aye, lass, I'm here. I heard ye leave your hut. I would not leave ye alone to face whatever dangerous mission awaited."

Keely waited for Whipple to close the distance between them before she spoke. "I would argue with you about your appearance here at this great hour, but I ken it would do no good. You should not be here. Your heart--"

Whipple spat. "My heart is fine."

She determinedly stepped forward, approaching the meadow of her dream, knowing she wouldn't like what she found.

"Have it your way, then." Given a choice, Keely wouldn't have come to this meadow. But she had to know the truth--had she seen the future or something happening at that very moment?

Whipple didn't reply. On his clubfoot, he followed her, his trailing leg sliding behind him with a soft swish. The hard thud of his crooked oak cane followed at a slightly skewed interval.

Together they crested the hill. Below her, she saw her dream. A priest lay on the ground, his head twisted at an odd angle. For a moment her heart stopped. She bit down on her lower lip while she studied the man.

Keely tried to ignore the helplessness pooling deep within, and attempted to push the burgeoning tears away. A frisson swept over Keely's skin.

She approached the priest cautiously; he could be playing with her, waiting for her to get within reach of those powerful hands.

Warily, she eyed Whipple. A few moments of silent observation convinced Keely the stranger wasn't lying in ambush. He was too still, not visibly breathing. Keely feared the man was dead. He lay utterly motionless; his limbs at awkward angles, his head wound oozing blood. The slow welling of blood from the wound told her he was still alive. She kneeled beside the priest. "He's not dead, Whipple." Her fingers hovered above his weak pulse. She watched the slight rise and fall of his sturdy, broad chest. Yet she did not dare touch him.

Whipple inhaled sharply. "Do ye mean to take him to your hut, lass? I cannae allow ye to do such a dangerous thing. Ye have no idea who or what he is. Ye do not ken his purpose here or his intent."

"He is a priest. Besides, there is nothing else we can do."

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Cliff Hanger Saturday: Excerpt from Highland Magic


We all love a cliffhanger. That is what keeps readers turning the pages and authors with smiles on their faces. 


Follow my tour with goddessfish.
The tour starts November 5th.


Cliffhanger: Highland Magic.

That woman is too damn beautiful. I don't know why I'm here, but something in my gut tells me my presence here is not in her best interest. I think I'd better take another long dip in the icy stream nearby. Doubt cold water will ease the heat sweeping inside. Don't know how long it has been since I had a woman but I sure do need one now.

Disgusted with himself, Ian whirled around knocking leaves and herbs from the table. Keely was so surprised by the abrupt movement she dropped the pan she was holding. Simmering broth spilled everywhere, quickly seeping into the floor.

"I don't know what got into me..." Ian's voice died. There was no point in telling Keely that her mouth was too tempting and her eyes were too big and too expressive to belong to a peasant girl with no defender--no protector. So Ian kept his mouth shut and tried to keep his mind away from the fey creature whose skin and hair smelled like crushed thyme and lavender.

"Your mother taught you the arts?" Ian asked after looking at the spilled brew. "You should best be careful with the knowledge and when you use your craft."

"Careful doesn't ease the pain of childbirth," she smiled softly, a wistful look in her expressive eyes. "Nor does it bring down a raging fever."

Ian rubbed his throbbing temples. He didn't want to believe Keely could be in any kind of trouble here. But he knew the ways of the Highlanders. Many were superstitious. She was probably safe living on the outskirts of the village. Yet his gut reaction told him she wasn't safe anywhere.

Before Ian could reply, a stray dog barked an alarm. Even as he turned toward the sound, Ian yanked Keely away from the door and into a far corner of the hut. He reached for the sword Keely had hung near the fireplace. An instant later his big body covered hers pinning her to the wall.

"Don't move. And stay inside," Ian breathed against Keely's ear, his voice a mere thread of sound.

Friday, November 2, 2012

Highland Magic

It's Ian's day on the Angels blog. I've given over "Guy Day Friday" on my personal blog to Genie Gabriel and her new release Challenging the Legacy.

Highland Magic goes on tour with goddessfish starting November 5th.
First stop:  http://www.krystalshannan.blogspot.com/?zx=f03b65c52ffac28a

Ian is the roguish second son, the one with no responsibilities. (he thinks) But he finds himself in the hands of Keely a witch woman and healer. She can see the future and has predicted the death of the Scottish King. Ian falls in love with her when he first opens his eyes. Yet he has no memory of his past or even his name.


Highland Magic the second book in the highland series:
Highland Honor and last Highland Song.

They stand alone but are better when read in order.

Excerpt:

"Beauty--" He murmured the first thought plummeting into his pounding head. He felt as if he'd slept beneath a herd of stampeding warhorses.

The woman before him was beautiful. He closed his eyes and opened them in a futile attempt to clear his hazy vision and his screaming temples. Despite the pain lancing through his head with every beat of his heart, he willed himself to be patient and quiet.

Holy Christ.

He must have died and gone to heaven. The woman was a saint. Pushing against the bed with the intention of rising, he fell back. Pain throbbing mercilessly in his head was a clear indication he was not in heaven.

"What?" Beauty moved from the pot bubbling over the fire. "You're awake?"

Her large amber-colored eyes rested on him and set his pulse clamoring. Her long sooty lashes fluttered closed for a moment, and when she looked at him again, a softly feminine smile curved upward on rose-pearled lips.

He stared at her, inhaling the sweet scent floating around her, memorizing the soft curve of her hip, the gentle sway of her rounded breasts. She was beside him, close, warm, smelling of cinnamon and spiced apples.

"Now, you cannot be falling back to sleep. I've questions for you to answer." She sat on a small wooden stool near the bed, her voice sending ripples of pleasure through him.

He reached out to her, thinking to touch her and wondering if her skin was soft and smooth, but the slight movement caused him the greatest agony. Her hands, the color of alabaster, were clenched tightly in front of her. When the single beam of light slanted across the floor and rested on raven locks tumbling off her shoulders and down the front of her bodice, his body tightened in anticipation. Promises of fantasies beyond his imagination flashed through his mind.



Thursday, November 1, 2012

Guard Your Muse Well




Yup They Do Exist!


It's check in day at the Rogues Angels blog. 

Time to pay the piper! How did you do?

This is the Rogue's Angels weekly check-in. Every Thursday we encourage the Angels and visitors to let us know how their writing is going.

How well are you doing?

Had problems this week? That's ok. Just sit down this coming week and write. Whatever you do, don't let difficulties from the week before get in your way this week.

Every word is one word closer to the finished product.

I had hoped to have the second chapter of Highland Miracle finished by this post. But I don't. I had a busy week pre-halloween. Sewing costumes and entertaining family for a week late birthday. I did, however, finish a scene plot for chapter 2 and I finally began a characterization chart for the hero of Highland Miracle, Sean Michael Sterling. 

Had a great week? Keep it up, the momentum is on your side.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Waning Moon

Please welcome PJ Sharon author of Waning Moon.


PJ will be awarding an eBook copy of "Thin Ice" to one commenter at each stop and a $25 Amazon or BN GC to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour.


Waning Moon
by PJ Sharon 


INTERVIEW:

1. What or who inspired you to start writing?

I’ve kept journals all my life, but I didn’t start writing fiction until about seven years ago after a financial seminar had me thinking of my long term plan in life. Harv Ecker, motivational speaker and financial guru, talked about creating “passive streams of income”. He suggested that writing books was a way to do that. You write a book, put it out there, and then kick back and collect royalties. Um…NOT! I joined RWA, wrote four full length manuscripts, went to all the workshops and conferences, and jumped through all the traditional agent and editor hoops before I wrote a book that was even remotely publish worthy. Passive? I’ve found there is nothing passive about being an author. Unless you’re talking about the dreaded passive voice that editors love to bust on us about. 

2. What elements are necessary components for this genre.

I wrote three contemporary young adult novels prior to writing WANING MOON, the first book in a dystopian trilogy. As far as the YA genre, I think the most important component is characters that teens can identify with. Along with relatable characters, a compelling story and an engaging voice are what define YA. My books tend to have a large crossover audience with adult readers. I think this is because I don’t write down to readers. It’s difficult striking a balance between writing authentically and still making your characters sound like teens, but I try to keep that balance in mind during the editing phase. Dystopian novels characteristically have very dark undertones and lots of cool world building which I’ve had a blast with.


3. How did you come up with your idea for your novel?

I live in the Berkshire Hills of Western MA. It’s pretty remote and my husband and I have learned to really depend on our neighbors—the only ones for three quarters of a mile in any direction. We often get together with them and the conversation inevitably turns to speculation about the future and how we would survive a collapse of the world as we know it. It makes for some interesting talk over dinner. My husband, an engineer, always has some amazing input on ways he could make things work if we had to live “off-grid”. The Chronicles of Lily Carmichael was born out of those conversations. Much of my research and the details in the story have come about after our Saturday night card games.


4. What expertise did you bring to your writing?

My main character, Lily, is a healer. Through a genetic alteration she was born with the ability to not only heal herself, but others as well. To hide her supernatural ability, she has also learned to use herbs and natural healing methods to treat injuries and illness. As a massage therapist and holistic health care practitioner, my knowledge of natural medicine came into play throughout the book, including the scene where Lily has to reduce Will’s dislocated shoulder. Ouch!

5. What would you want your readers to know about you that might not be in your bio?

Wow! Scary question. Well, I’m proud to say that I consider myself a lifelong learner. I took figure skating lessons for seven years when I was in my teens, became a physical therapist assistant in my twenties, earned a black belt in my thirties, and learned Italian opera in my forties. I’m so looking forward to another cool adventure when I hit my fifties. World traveler perhaps?

6. As far as your writing goes, what are your future plans?

I suspect that writing a trilogy is going to keep me pretty busy in the coming year. Beyond that, I think I’d eventually like to write adult romances. I have two paranormal and two romantic suspense novels collecting dust bunnies in my hard drive. They are poorly written but fabulous stories that may still see a spot on my cyber-shelf after much revision.

7. If you could be one of the characters from this book, who would it be and why?

Hmm…I think I’d like to be Nora McKinley. She’s one of Lily’s mentors and the woman who is in love with Lily’s uncle. She’s strong, smart, and dedicated to finding a cure for the man she loves. I appreciate the simplicity of her life. Of course, I love Lily, but as a teen character, she has to undergo lots of change and drama. Been there, done that. There comes a time in life when simplicity is very appealing. 


8. Can you give us a sneak peak into this book?

Absolutely. Here’s a short excerpt:

We both groaned as we lifted the heavy iron cover. I dropped down into the icy churning water, sucking in a breath while Will climbed down the ladder. He paused, grunting as he pulled the heavy cover in place behind him.
Just in time. We heard rushing footsteps overhead, voices loud and angry. Will and I exchanged a look and then turned toward the dark tunnel. Will’s hand slipped into mine as he took the lead. “Stay with me. Don’t let go, okay?”
I let him pull me forward. The water deepened as we dragged ourselves along. The sound of rushing water ahead had me backing up against the current. “This is not a good idea.”
Will tugged me by the hand, wincing in pain. “It’s the only way out. Trust me. It’ll be alright.”
“Trust you? That’s a joke, right?” 
 “Can we fight about this later?” 
Before I could argue, a wave of turbulent water rushed in from a connecting pipe, and swept us off our feet. Will’s hand tightened around mine and we dropped abruptly downward. As the slope steepened, the water picked up speed. Darkness and the stench of sewage overwhelmed my senses. I prayed a quick prayer that the end of the tunnel was near. What I worried for next was how far of a fall it would be to the murky waters of the Hudson below when we reached it.
Another rapid decent shot my stomach to my throat and Will’s hand pulled free. “Noooo!”
But the thunderous roar of the cascading waterfall swallowed the sound of my scream.  It launched us into the darkening horizon like a torpedo, and then dumped us thirty feet into the icy roiling waters of the Hudson River. 

9. Do you belong to a critique group? If so how does this help or hinder your writing?

I have several critique partners and find them an invaluable part of the process. Depending on the timing, I may have to share my work with one or two at a time since they are all newly published authors as well, and as you know, the writer’s life is quite busy. Having a second or third set of eyes helps me by catching those plot holes, characterization flaws, and misplaced details that I might miss. 


10. When did you first decide to submit your work? Please tell us what or who encouraged you to take this big step?

I believe it was about a year after I joined the CT chapter of RWA. I had completed my second manuscript and was working with a critique group that loved the story, and encouraged me to pitch at a conference. I got a few requests but nothing came of it. At the time, I was a bit of a first draft addict and knew that the manuscript needed a lot of revision. I wasn’t quite sure how to go about revising so I jumped into another story and then another until I had developed my craft enough to feel confident that my writing was strong enough to get published. It wasn’t until my stories began placing in contests that I decided to submit to agents and editors. After I’d written two more full length manuscripts and gotten many rejections, I realized that my stories weren’t right for the market so I finally began looking into indie publishing. 

To explain that statement further, agents and editors have notoriously narrow parameters when it comes to acquiring new authors. My stories fell outside of the norm. My character in Savage Cinderella was too old for YA, ON THIN ICE had too many subplots, and I didn’t even submit Heaven is for Heroes because I knew that the subject matter wouldn’t be relevant by the time I got an agent and the book made it to the shelves. It became clear that indie publishing was the best choice for me and my stories.    

11. What is the best and worst advice you ever received? (regarding writing or publishing)

Best advice: Write what you love. Worst advice: Don’t self-publish.

12. Do you outline your books or just start writing?

I’m mostly a pantser, but I’ve learned to get to know my characters, their goals, what motivates them, and what major conflict they have to resolve internally and externally before I sit down to let the words flow. I write a few chapters to get a feel for the story and then I make a time line that shows me the major turning points of the story. Beyond that I don’t plot.

13. How do you maintain your creativity?

Creativity ebbs and flows like life itself. That may sound philosophical, but it’s true. I’ve learned to channel it when it’s in high gear and to be patient and wait for it to come back around when it’s not. Balance is my motto and yet balance is the most challenging part of this job for me. I practice yoga regularly, try to get enough sleep, and sometimes I have to force myself to write, even if the words on the page are not my best. I’m learning to trust the process and just keep pushing through.

14. Who is your favorite character in the book. Can you tell us why?

I loved writing Will Callahan’s character. He’s a bit of a wise guy and a loner, but he’s got a good heart. He’s determined, resourceful, and isn’t about to let anything get in the way of his goal…except for Lily, maybe.





~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

In the year 2057, in a post-apocalyptic world where a global shift threatens the remainder of the population with extinction, sixteen-year-old genetically enhanced Lily Charmichael has more immediate problems. Her uncle is dying of cancer and her healing abilities are ineffective against the blood ties that bind them. In order to find a cure, Lily must leave the protection of her quiet town and journey into the trading city of Albany, all while avoiding the Industry, an agency that would like nothing better than to study and exploit her abilities.

 Seventeen-year-old Will Callahan has been searching for his father since severe storms blasted through the Midwest, killing his mother and sister. When he learns that his father may be in the city, he catches a ride with Lily, a girl who has come to his rescue more than once. As the two embark on a dangerous journey, the attraction between them grows. But the secrets Will’s keeping could put her in far more danger than traveling to the city with him, and if he was any kind of man, he would have told her to run the minute she found him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~



EXCERPT:


We both groaned as we lifted the heavy iron cover. I dropped down into the icy churning water, sucking in a breath while Will climbed down the ladder. He paused, grunting as he pulled the heavy cover in place behind him.

Just in time. We heard rushing footsteps overhead, voices loud and angry. Will and I exchanged a look and then turned toward the dark tunnel. I felt Will’s hand slip into mine as he took the lead. “Stay with me. Don’t let go, okay?”

I let him pull me forward. The water deepened as we dragged ourselves along. The sound of rushing water ahead had me backing up against the current. “This is not a good idea.”

Will tugged me by the hand, wincing in pain. “It’s the only way out. Trust me. It’ll be alright.”

“Trust you? That’s a joke, right?” 

“Can we fight about this later?” 

Before I could argue, a wave of turbulent water rushed in from a connecting pipe, and swept us off our feet. Will’s hand tightened around mine and we dropped abruptly downward. As the slope steepened, the water picked up speed. Darkness and the stench of sewage overwhelmed my senses. I prayed a quick prayer that the end of the tunnel was near. What I worried for next was how far of a fall it would be to the murky waters of the Hudson below when we reached it.

Another rapid decent shot my stomach to my throat and Will’s hand pulled free. “Noooo!”

But the thunderous roar of the cascading waterfall swallowed the sound of my scream.  It launched us into the darkening horizon like a torpedo and then dumped us thirty feet into the icy roiling waters of the Hudson River. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~



AUTHOR Bio and Links:

I knew I would be a writer someday when I was a little girl sitting on my grandpa’s knee and telling him stories that he would help me put on paper. By the time I entered kindergarten I could already read and write, and I couldn’t wait to look up new words every morning in the ginormous Webster’s Dictionary that sat in the book case at the bottom of our stairs. I would get on the bus and ask my friends, “Do you know what pulchritudinous means?” Between that and challenging the boys to push-up contests at the bus stop, I mostly sat alone on those bus rides to school. But that just meant I had more time to make up stories.

I went on to many other endeavors in life, including the world of figure skating, and later, earning a black belt in martial arts. Though I was a mom at seventeen, I did manage to finish school and somehow made it through college, earning a degree as a Physical Therapy Assistant. After nineteen years, two sons, a divorce, and some fairly lean years, I found that it’s true what they say about life beginning at forty. It was about that time when I reunited with the love of my life and worked my way to owning my own business as a Massage Therapist, Personal Trainer, and Yoga Instructor—all of my favorite things. To make my bliss complete, I moved out to the Berkshires and found my muse waiting for me there amongst the lilacs and humming birds. 

I now write Extraordinary Stories of an Average Teenage Life in order to share hope with others, especially teens, that no matter how tough life gets, there is always a bright spot waiting just around the corner. My published books include the award winning YA Novels, HEAVEN IS FOR HEROES, ON THIN ICE, and SAVAGE CINDERELLA, available through Amazon and B&N Booksellers.

Facebook  http://www.facebook.com/pjsharonbooks
Twitter  http://www.twitter.com/pjsharon
Amazon Author Central  https://www.amazon.com/author/pjsharon
YouTube  http://www.youtube.com/pjsharon64
Pinterest  http://pinterest.com/pjsharon/
Good reads  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5238865.P_J_Sharon
Secretsof7scribes  http://www.secretsof7scribes.com/
YABeyond  http://www.yabeyond.com/

Don't forget to comment! 

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Healing Notes

Please welcome Maggie Jaimeson author of Healing Notes

Maggie will award one autographed cover flat to a randomly drawn commenter at each blog stop.  In addition, she will award  a $25 gift card to either Amazon or Barnes and Noble (winner's choice) as a grand prize to one randomly selected commenter on this tour, and a $25 gift certificate to either Amazon or Barnes and Noble (winner's choice) to a randomly drawn host.  You must leave an email address to be entered into any of the drawings.

Dont Forget To Leave A Comment!


Healing Notes
by Maggie Jaimeson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

Forgiving yourself is the first step, but helping others forgive may be just too hard.

Rachel Cullen grew up in Scotland with a fiddle in her hand from the age of four. She couldn't imagine life as anything but a musician. When her husband brought her to America she was immediately embraced by the Celtic and Bluegrass communities. But after her divorce, Rachel's life is a mess.

A year of trying to prove to herself that she's woman enough for any man, and then a vicious rape while on tour with the band, leaves Rachel reeling. When she meets Noel Kershaw, an English teacher who is poetry in motion, she is definitely attracted. But he has a young child and he's suffering from his own divorce. The last thing Rachel needs in life is more baggage.

First, Rachel must reconcile who she is, what she wants, and how to get there. Maybe then she'll know how to be a part of the family she's always wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~



EXCERPT:

Claire crawled onto a stool on the other side of the island and smiled.  Neither of them talked for several minutes as they listened to the water in the pot heat.

“When I grow up, I’m going to play with Sweetwater Canyon all the time.”

“Are you sure you want to hang out with all us old folks?”

“You’re not all old. Well maybe a little old. But Kat isn’t old.”

Rachel smiled. “That’s true. She’s only seventeen.” And going on twenty-five it seemed sometimes.

“Oh, seventeen? That is old.” Claire put a finger to her lips and furrowed her brow. “How old do I have to be to play in the band all the time?”

“Probably at least eighteen.”

“But, you just said Kat—”

“Kat is different, because her mother plays in the band and can watch her all the time.”

“Well, you can watch me all the time. You can be my mother.”

Rachel gulped.

“Well, can’t you?”

“Can’t she what?” Noel walked in the room and lifted Claire off the chair in a big hug, swinging her around the room. “Can’t she what? She can do anything she wants.”

“See,” Claire leaned forward and looked at Rachel over Noel’s shoulder. “See, even Daddy thinks you can be my mother.”

“Whoa.” Noel set Claire back on the stool. “I’m not sure what I walked in on here.” He sent an accusing glance to Rachel. “You already have a mother, Claire.”

“I know. Not my real mother. My second mother. You know, like my friend, Megan. Her mommy and daddy got divorced and her daddy married a new mommy. So, Megan has two mommies now.  See?  Rachel can be my second mommy. Okay?”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~



AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Maggie Jaimeson writes romantic women’s fiction and romantic suspense with a near future twist. She describes herself as a wife, a step-mother, a sister, a daughter, a teacher and an IT administrator. By day she is “geek girl” – helping colleges to keep up with 21st century technology and provide distance learning options for students in rural areas. By night Maggie turns her thoughts to worlds she can control – worlds where bad guys get their comeuppance, women triumph over tragedy, and love can conquer all.

HEALING NOTES is the second book in the Sweetwater Canyon Series of four books.  The final two books will be available in 2013.

Website: http://maggiejaimeson.com
Blog: http://maggiemeandering.blogspot.com
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Maggie-Jaimeson/118916694787820
Twitter: @maggiejaimeson


Please leave a comment.