Sunday, April 10, 2011

NO REST FOR THE WICCA

Communing with the dead is an everyday occurrence for PI Morgan Hawkes. A half-Wiccan witch who can commune with spirits of those caught between worlds, Morgan uses her talents to exorcise the trapped ghost or demon as part of the Paranormal Investigation Squad – until a string of murders with a voodoo slant prompts the Special Forces Agency to ask for her assistance. Someone’s killing pureblood witches- and the SFA’s convinced Morgan’s heritage (her father was a voodoo priest) could be instrumental in solving the mystery. Teamed with dashing SF agent Cole St. John – an Inheritor Vampire that sets her blood racing – the two of them fight their attraction for each other as they race to stop a madman from unleashing a demonic force upon the world.


Bio:
In 1995, I joined the staff of SUSABELLA PASSENGERS AND FRIENDS, where I have been a staff reporter for over 10 years, winning their Margaret Sutton Award for Distinguished Writing in 1998. I joined the staff of NIGHT OWL REVIEWS IN January 2011 as the suspense reviewer/columnist. My column, DARK STREETS, is featured on a monthly basis.

In 2007, Whiskey Creek Press published BOUND BY BLOOD, a tale of possession, and EBONY, which deals with zombies and the dark side of man. EBONY was #2 on the Fictionwise bestseller list for e-books for the month of July 2007, beating out Stephen King’s Lisey’s Story. In 2010 I self published NO REST FOR THE WICCA, which made Amazon’s list of top one hundred in Occult in March 2011, and my short story, THE SACRIFICE, appears in the e-published anthology KISS ME KILL ME, which to date has sold over 7000 copies on Barnes and Noble and Amazon.

Currently single, I work full time and live in Clifton, NJ, with my muses: Rocco, Maxx, Gata and Trixie. Rocco is also known as Rocco the SciFi Blogging Cat and has appeared on the SciFi Saturday Night website and radio show, and also on the Kids Need To Read website where he holds the distinction of being the first (and possibly only!) blogging cat to support this charity.

What will readers like about your book?
The sexy, sassy heroine, the mystery in the plot, the sexy hero…what’s not to like? J

Why did you self publish?
Actually, it never entered my head until a friend of mine, HP Mallory, encouraged me. So we can all blame her Jfor yet another snarky, sexy paranormal heroine.

What is your writing process?
First I outline the characters in my head, then I make a brief sketch of the story.Then I flesh it out in a bit more detail, and do a chapter by chapter breakdown. Then I get Rocco on my lap, fire up the CD and begin.


How long does it take you to write your first draft? 

Start to finish, because I have a full time job it takes me 3 months.

What inspired you to write this particular story? 
At the time I had an agent (actually, the same one HP Mallory had) and we'd just come off a rejection from NALR's editorial board for another paranormal romance/mystery of mine so this was a sort of catharsis for me.

Excerpt:

Later, much later, I slipped into the house and went directly to the kitchen. The refrigerator door groaned as I opened it; one of these days we were going to have to invest in a new one. I rummaged through it, finally deciding upon some leftover ham and Gouda cheese. I carried my prize to the sideboard, then fumbled to open the breadbasket. There I found a loaf of day-old rye, not my favorite, and some Wonder bread that had definitely seen better days. Not being a big fan of green mold, I opted for the rye. I slapped some ham and cheese on the bread, slathered it with Gulden’s hot and spicy, and carried my meal down the hall into the room set up as my office.
I loved this room—hands down it had to be my favorite in the house, probably because there were absolutely no trappings of Xia’s lurking anywhere about. The desk was a beautiful pale oak, bought for a song at a flea market. My computer system was state of the art, of course, the end product of my first Christmas Bonus check from the Department. Last year, Xia’d surprised me with a real leather desk chair. Wall to wall bookshelves were near to overflowing, with everything from a How-to handbook on autopsies to the classics Xia loved to read, over and over—Little Women, A Tale of Two Cities, Kidnapped. She’d even managed to get me interested in a few of them, and reading had never been high on my list of favorite hobbies. On a low table just under the window sat a collection of framed photographs. I walked over, selected the one in the brass oval frame. My face and the face of a girl with red hair and laughing green eyes smiled up at me.
April. No matter what anyone says, it was my fault. I know it. I got too cocky—thought I knew too much.
I've found in my experience people who aren't cops can't understand the special bond between partners. When one dies, it's like a part of you dies right along with them.
In my case, I’d operated for the last year and a half with no more than an empty shell.
I looked at the photograph for a long time, before I carefully set it back on the table. As the moon rose in the sky, a pale orb, I flopped down in my chair, let its rays wash over me as I dropped my head into my hands and, for the first time in a long time, let the tears flow.

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