The 10 Most Unrealistic Scenes from Books and Movies

It isn’t like in the movies. Or most books, either. What isn’t? Real life. Here are ten of the most unrealistic scenes I’ve noticed from books and movies.

  1. When someone nearly drowns, and everyone gives up and assumes they are dead, the person suddenly coughs and comes back to life. Well, OK, but this person just inhaled half a lake and they give a cough or two and then they are fine? I usually cough for five minutes when I strangle on a sip of water that goes down the wrong way. And of course, we have to have that dramatic moment when we think all is lost. Isn’t that getting a bit trite?
  2. In books and movies when a person is getting a fever, they are burning up and keep throwing off the cover and the person taking care of them keeps trying to keep them warm. When your fever is going up, you actually feel cold and chilled and want to bundle up. To keep a fever from going too high (before aspirin or other drugs) you would have to sponge the person off with cool water. It’s when your fever is going down, that you feel hot and throw off covers.
  3. The couple has just made mad, passionate love. It’s the best! They lie there panting but she still has on all her underclothes. Hmm. Well, I admit this one usually just happens in sitcoms.
  4. The couple has been trying to escape from the bad guys. They are tired, filthy, hungry, thirsty, and haven’t had a bath or change of clothes or brushed their teeth for three days. They are still in danger, but they can’t put it off any longer. They make love. Yuck. It would be the farthest thing from my mind right then.
  5. There can be days of danger, trekking through jungles, or across deserts, or freezing in the mountains. The woman never has a problem because she is having her period. Do heroines even have periods?
  6. The group is on an expedition to find some lost treasure. They go through horrible situations. Swamps where they lose half their equipment and some people are eaten by swamp monsters. Dangerous tribes who kill some more of the group and they barely make it away from them. More terrible stuff. Finally, they find the treasure! Hooray! Next scene, they are comfortably ensconced back in London or New York, wealthy. End of movie. Uh. Yeah they got the treasure, but how do they go back through all those dangers, this time lugging the treasure, and with just a few of them left, and with practically no food, drink, or equipment?
  7. And of course, there is the mountain climb. All that effort to get to the top, fingers freezing off, people falling to their deaths, guides deserting. Finally, the last few straggle to the top. Hooray! Mountain defeated! Uh. What about going back down? Isn’t it just as far? Just as cold? Just as many chances to fall, etc? But now there is less equipment, less help, etc. And I’ve always found going down a mountain to be harder than going up. But what do I know?
  8. There are just two or three good guys and they are highly outnumbered. The bad guys fire off 100 rounds to every one the good guys shoot. Yet the good guys manage to kill all those bad guys while getting no more than barely wounded. Are the bad guys always such bad shots? Wouldn’t their superior numbers and greater firepower make up for some of their incompetence? If I were a bad guy, I would go to the shooting range more often.
  9. The main good guy and the main bad guy always end up fighting each other after everyone else has been killed or disabled. Every other fight the good guy has engaged in has been quick and easy. But when the main bad guy and the good guy fight, it goes on forever and is really tough. Really? The bad guy never gets hit by a stray bullet and killed early on? He’s never more of a brains kind of bad guy and an incompetent fighter? OK, so I understand that these two have to face off. But, just once in a while, couldn’t some secondary character just shoot the bad guy? Or he falls off a cliff?
  10. The good guy can hold his breath forever. When he has to dive after the heroine, or is trapped and has to fight his way out while under water, it is amazing how long the good guy can hold his breath. Sometimes, while simply sitting still in my recliner, I will take a deep breath when the good guy is in the water. Here he is struggling, fighting, helping others, and I’m just sitting there but I can’t hold my breath for even half the scene. Just how does he do it?

Is there anything I’ve missed? Probably. I can think of one or two more. Can you? Let me know in the comments.

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Sara Walter Ellwood

Today Sara Walter Ellwood has stopped by to share a little about her latest release!



Singing to the Heart Book 3


Sara Walter Ellwood

Releasing June 21, 2016 in both ebook and print


Sex, drugs, and country music. That was the lifestyle for Emily Kendall, a Texas girl who hit it big on the country music charts—until she found herself pregnant and battling addiction. Now out of rehab and seeking a new life for herself and her unborn child, Emily returns to her hometown of McAllister. The last thing she’s looking for is trouble, no matter how good it looks in uniform…

A widower, single father, and former Army Ranger struggling with PTSD, Sheriff EJ Cowley has his own demons to battle while keeping folks safe. The last thing he needs is a troubled celebrity speeding through town in her bright red Maserati. But when someone from Emily’s past threatens her safety and the peace of McAllister, EJ has no choice but to protect her. And soon both will learn there’s more to the other than meets the eye. And that wounded hearts can love again…


“I’m sorry, but I can’t ride you right now.” Emily kissed the horse above her nose, and Tink nuzzled her cheek. “We’ll go out tomorrow. How about that?”

“I remember when you rode that horse everywhere you went.”

Startled by the deep voice, she turned. EJ Cowley leaned on the top rail of the fence, and from the look of it, he’d been there for a while. He’d changed out of the brown uniform of the McAllister County sheriff’s department. She couldn’t help looking him over. Dressed in worn boots, faded jeans, a blue western shirt, and a brown Stetson, he epitomized every sexy cliché existing about how a cowboy should look.

Her heart sped up at the way those clothes fit him. Which irritated the hell out of her. She turned back to her horse and stroked her long face. “What are you doing here?”

“My sister-in-law watches my son while I’m at work.”

She stilled. Had she been quasi-lusting after a married man? Hadn’t he married Raquel Marshall? She glanced over her shoulder at his left hand. No ring. But then a lot of cowboys didn’t wear their wedding bands when they were working. The risk of getting it caught on something was too great.

Despite his clothes, he must have come off duty as the county’s ticket-happy sheriff not too long ago. She patted Tink’s shoulder. “See you in the morning, girl.” As she headed toward the man, who was not hiding the fact he appreciated what he saw, she guessed he wasn’t still married, but she’d been around the world a few times and knew not to take a man’s blatant interest as proof of anything. “You have a son. How is Raquel these days?”

She was close enough to notice his gray eyes had turned as haunted as a gravestone when she asked about his wife. He looked to the left, toward his brother’s house, and from the way a muscle twitched in his jaw, he must have gritted his teeth.

“She committed suicide two years ago today.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she stammered. What else had happened to the people she’d once considered friends she was unaware of? “How old is your little boy?”

He took a deep breath and met her gaze again. She studied his eyes as they moved over her face. God, he had the most fascinating eyes. They weren’t truly blue, but the gray was an odd shade. Too light to be slate, but too dark to be silver. They reminded her of her great-grandmother’s pewter candleholders.


As silence engulfed them, she turned to head for the gate. She had no idea what was up with the sheriff, and she didn’t like her desire to ask. EJ Cowley may have filled her schoolgirl fantasies, but she wasn’t the wide-eyed kid who crushed after the local cowboy-turned-soldier.


At the sound of her name, she glanced past EJ to the porch. Johnny stood there with his toy lightsaber and x-wing. She promised to play a video game with her brother. “Well, it was good seeing you again, EJ.”

She was halfway across the drive when his voice stopped her. “By the way”–He cleared his throat–“I lost your ticket…”

Stopping in the middle of the driveway, she looked over her shoulder at him. His face puckered as if he’d eaten a lemon soaked in vinegar. He took his hat off and ran a hand through his short hair. The setting sun turned the tresses a gleaming gold.

“You lost it?” Damned if she’d make it easy on him. “After going through all the trouble of stopping me a mile away from home?”

Setting his hat back on his head, he cleared his throat again and stood with his feet apart. He gave a quick jerk with his head in the affirmative. “Can’t find it anywhere. No ticket. No proof. You’re off the hook.”

Holy crap, he was gorgeous, and heat flooded her to pool in her belly. She turned, not wanting him to see the way he affected her, and headed for the porch, then lied through her teeth. “Good, because I’ve already tossed it.” She had every intention of paying the fine, but she was glad he lost the ticket. No decent cop would lose a ticket. Maybe he did it out of remembrance of their childhood friendship. Or was he as attracted to her as she was to him?

With an inward shake of herself, she didn’t let a possible answer formulate in her muddled brain. She couldn’t be anything to him. You’re pregnant with another man’s child and don’t need the added stress! At the door into the kitchen, she ruffled Johnny’s hair and turned, ignoring her self-admonishment. “See you around, EJ.”

“Yeah… See you around.” He tipped his hat and turned on his heel to amble toward his extended cab Silverado.

From inside the screen door, she watched the way he filled out the backside of his Wrangler’s and muttered, “Hell yeah, I hope so.”

If you’d like to see more excerpts check them out here:

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Sara Walter Ellwood (8)


Although Sara Walter Ellwood has long ago left the farm for the glamour of the big town, she draws on her experiences growing up on a small hobby farm in West Central Pennsylvania to write her contemporary westerns. She’s been married to her college sweetheart for over 20 years, and they have two teenagers and one very spoiled rescue cat named Penny. She longs to visit the places she writes about and jokes she’s a cowgirl at heart stuck in Pennsylvania suburbia. Sara Walter Ellwood is a multi-published and international Amazon bestselling author of the anthology set Cowboy Up. She also dabbles in the paranormal genre with her The Hunter’s Dagger Series, which was previously published under the pen name Cera duBois.

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The other books in Singing to the Heart…

Heartstrings, Book 1 and Heartsong, Book 2 are also available in ebook and print

Heartstrings: Amazon:

Heartsong: Amazon:

For other vendor links and book information check out my website page:




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Why many writers being writing in fourth grade

I have heard a lot of writers say they began writing in the fourth grade and it got me wondering just why that is. It was certainly true for me.

When I was in 4th grade, the teacher talked about poetry and told us to write a four line poem that rhymed. I wrote an eight line poem. Hey, budding writer, overachiever, the plot needed a longer poem. What can I say? I wondered why all my classmates hated the assignment I loved so much, and why their poems didn’t rhyme well or have good meter. That was also the year I started my first, still unfinished, book.

It wasn’t until my own kids hit fourth grade that I realized why the writer in so many of us surfaces in fourth grade. In grades one through three, most kids are learning the basics. They are learning how to read and write. It is in fourth grade that students begin to use those skills to learn geography, history, and other subjects.

Writers are also voracious readers. By fourth grade, people who are innately…well, I won’t say twisted or warped, but maybe skewed, in the direction of writing, begin to use their new skills to write. We’ve read stories, we’ve made up stories for our friends and younger siblings, now we want to write them down. It’s time.

How many of you started writing in grade school?

How many of you loved it every time the teacher gave a writing assignment?

How many of you were the kid who asked if you could write more than the 2 or 3 pages assigned?

If you answered yes to these questions, you’re probably a writer!

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Katherine McIntyre

Welcome to Katherine McIntyre! Her new book is Hunting for Spring and here is just a little bit about it!

Hunting for Spring 


Hunters are a lonely breed, and Conor’s no exception, until the day he meets Brenna. Even though she slinks in unannounced and kills the wight he was hunting down, the girl’s a mystery and he can’t get that blinding smile or those gorgeous curves off his mind. Since they’re both after the same caster who’s unleashing these monsters, he suggests teaming up, and despite her initial reluctance, the hungry way she scans him down promises something powerful.
However, her secrets have repercussions, and faster than Conor can lift his Glock, he’s drawn into the web of kidnappings and Unseelie mischief, all concealing the machinations of a darker foe—one that plans to bring Philly to ruin.

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If Conor Malone could ditch the responsibilities of his clan and somehow forget all the horrors he’d seen, he wouldn’t be stuck tromping through a nasty part of West Philly, trying to avoid stares and the permeating stench of bird shit. But no, the burden of tracking mythical beasts fell to those with the bad luck of being born into the wrong family. His family tree hearkened back to the likes of the Inquisition and Van Helsing—the original warriors against things that went bump in the night—hunters.
After passing the first couple of boarded-up houses and catching movement behind the cracked windows, Conor had his hand on his Glock. Despite the supernatural splatter board of blood, guts, and questionable ooze he’d witnessed through the years, he didn’t forget the atrocities humans were capable of.
Dark gray clouds collected overhead, laden and ready to spill over, although a sunny day wouldn’t make these streets any safer. High-crime cities like this one were the epicenters of the worst bloodsuckers, Unseelie fae, and a hodgepodge variety of nightmares crawling through the streets. Even with his trusty leather jacket on, he shivered as the cold wind swept the first few drops of rain to splash against his cheeks.
Because an easy hunt was too much to ask for. He heaved out a sigh as he picked up his pace toward the end of the block where the wight had last been spotted.
For the third time this week, one of those buggers cropped up in Philly, and he began to disbelieve coincidence. Move here, they said. You’ll always have work, they said. His dad’s friends might not be liars, but they were definitely dicks.

Hunting for Spring Links:

Author Bio:
A modern day Renaissance-woman, Katherine McIntyre has learned soapmaking, beer brewing, tea blending, and most recently roasting coffee. Most of which make sure she’s hydrated and bathed while she spends the rest of her time writing. With a desire to travel and more imagination than she knows what to do with, all the stories jumping around in her head led to the logical route of jotting them down on paper. She writes novels with take-charge women, ragtag crews, and emotionally savvy men. High chances for a passionate speech thrown into the mix.

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Linda Gondosch


Today’s guest is Linda Gondosch. Linda and I have been friends for…hmmm…a LOT of years. We were unpublished when we met and attended many writers groups and programs together. Linda has now published several children’s books. I am always amazed at how well she can get into the head of a child and write her stories from their point of view. She has had a lot of success with her fiction, and enjoys doing school visits to interact with kids. She has also written some non-fiction books for children, including, Where Did Sacagawea Join the Corps of Discovery?: And Other Questions about the Lewis and Clark Expedition. She wrote one about Junipero Serra, too, and that one has just been published. Here’s what Linda has to say about her new book:

Junípero Serra: Founder of the California Missions

Michele, thanks to you and Ron for telling me about the September 23 canonization of Junipero Serra during Pope Francis’s visit to the United States. As a result of your urging, I submitted the manuscript to Ignatius Press and they published it on October 15, 2015. A great big thank you!

Junípero Serra: Founder of the California Missions is a biography for ages 9 and up about the intrepid Franciscan friar who founded the first nine missions along the California coast in the 1700s, opening the area to European settlement. He was born Miguel José Serra on the poverty ridden Spanish island of Majorca in the Mediterranean Sea. Although small and frail, his mind was strong, and he possessed a beautiful singing voice. He was sent to a Franciscan school and eventually obtained a prestigious teaching position at the Convent of San Francisco in Palma.
But Serra had a dream. He wished above all to become a missionary to the New World and serve where no Christian had ever been. At age thirty-five he journeyed across the ocean, surviving a hurricane, and landed in Mexico in 1749. Although he suffered from a painful, ulcerated leg most of his life, as well as asthma, Serra still managed to cover great distances as he journeyed through Mexico, working among the Native Americans.
At age fifty-five Serra jumped at the chance to join the “Sacred Expedition,” a group of Spanish soldiers, Christian Indians, and Franciscan friars who traveled north to the area known today as California. It was there that Saint JuníperoSerra opened the first nine of an eventual twenty-one missions, preached his Catholic faith, and taught natives the Spanish language and life skills. By his death at age seventy, nine missions had been opened that eventually grew into the coastal towns and cities of California. Saint Serra, the first Hispanic saint in the United States, had a huge impact on the settling of the American West.
“Always forward. Never turn back,” is a motto that Serra lived by his whole life. When Californians chose the “most important people” from their state, they chose JuníperoSerra to have his statue placed in Statuary Hall in the Capitol in Washington, DC.Pope Francis considered him a man unafraid to venture to the ends of the earth in order to spread the Gospel message. According to the pontiff, “He was the evangelizer of the West in the United States.”
Large full color illustrations were done by the renowned French illustrator, Emmanuel Beaudesson. Bibliography, timeline, and a homily by Pope Francis are included.

To find out more about Linda Gondosch, visit her website.


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Ignatius Press:ípero-serra.aspx


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Dana Wright

If you like paranormal romance, Texas Twister, by Dana Wright, might just be the book for you.



Texas Twister (Blue Moon Chronicles) by Dana Wright – Romance>Fantasy

Sometimes love finds you in the darkest places.

Magdalay Rousseau is having a bad day. She can’t find the charging cable to her laptop, and when she goes into her husband’s office to look for it, she discovers he’s been cheating on her. She decides to hire a private investigator to dig into her husband’s secrets, but what the detective discovers about her turns her world upside-down.

Carter Zusak is a private detective–and a cat shifter. When a new client shows up, he’s almost certain she’s a flake. What kind of woman writes romance novels and owns a shop selling supplies for witches? He’s sure she’s got a bat or two loose in her belfry–until he delves deeper into her case. No one in her life is what they seem, and Magdalay has just put herself in danger more insidious than he ever imagined. Something about this witch sets his heart on fire. But he’ll have to figure out a way to save her before they both get burned…

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Published By: Etopia Press

Published: Oct 27, 2015

ISBN # 9781944138158

Pages: 99


blue moon chronicles, cat shifter, cisgender, dana wright, etopia press, fantasy romance, ghost, heterosexual, magic, male / female, paranormal, paranormal / horror, paranormal romance, private detective, private investigator, shapeshifter, shifters, shifters / cats, shifters / felines, supernatural, witch, wizard / witch / mystic



Magdalay Rousseau stared at her lifeless laptop and groaned. It wouldn’t turn on. Again.So much for a lasting battery. Already irritated from lack of sleep, she pressed the on button one more time and tried to recall where she’d left the charger. It should be in the little plastic bag she usually kept next to her laptop, but it wasn’t.

“Great. I can’t believe this. I ought to just spell you and be done with it.”

She growled and pushed herself up from the small space at the kitchen table. Perhaps it was in her work bag in the foyer. She hated resorting to magic when real world solutions worked just fine. It had been a point of contention with her mother for years. Besides, she wasn’t very good at it. Wish for rain and get a flood in her kitchen. That was her life right now.

Magdalay peered into the bag.

“Oh. This is just getting better and better.”

Magdalay spun on her heel and considered her next move. She had a deadline for her publisher, and today would be her only day off with no distractions until next week. Not that she could focus anyway. Not with the antics Russ was pulling lately. Her mind kept circling him like a dog with a bone.

He’d been out with the boys from the club, but something in the back of her mind kept digging at her. Their poker games didn’t last that long. Neither did their dinners at the club, which she now refused to attend. Not after the last time with his uppity friends and their equally unpleasant wives. She didn’t fit in with the country club scene, and that was more than all right with her.

Russ hadn’t come home—again—by the time her head hit the pillow last night at midnight. It was becoming par for the course. Magdalay couldn’t concentrate on anything and that included leaving her damn charging cable someplace. She could swear it was next to her workstation last night when she went to bed, but she could have been dreaming. She couldn’t remember, and that just pissed her off, making her already foul mood even more noxious.

“Did you wash my pants?” Russ called out from the bedroom, his voice lacking any of the warmth she used to receive from him.

“Yes,” she ground out, barely containing her urge to demand where the hell he’d been all damned night. It didn’t do any good. He never answered her anyway. “They’re folded on the dryer.”

Her husband, Russ, clad in a blue pullover shirt and tighty-whities bolted from their bedroom down the short hall toward the laundry room. The door opened and shut, and she caught a streak of blue out of the corner of her eye but no acknowledgement or thank you.

Next time she ought to let his clothes just pile up and see what happened. Well…she took that back. A week ago, she’d been too busy to keep up with the laundry and he’d shaken her awake after a long day at the shop and writing, demanding to know when she would get around to it. The icy stare was enough to motivate her into preemptive action. She’d never been afraid of her husband before that night, but things had changed between them at an alarming rate.

She poured the water into the coffeepot and flipped on the switch, sighing as the rich aroma of the Columbian blend pervaded the kitchen. It was still early, and she’d spent a sleepless night tossing and turning and imagining his car wrapped around a pole or worse. The man hadn’t come home until after two. At least that was the last time she recalled on the blinking clock on the nightstand. Russ hadn’t even had the decency to let her know where he was or if he was OK. Magdalay didn’t remember him sneaking in. She’d tried to stay awake so she could talk to him or at least give him a piece of her mind, but she must have drifted off in a wave of jittery exhaustion.

Last night had just been the latest in a long line of whatever was happening in their marriage and fixing it was becoming a pipe dream. He’d grown more and more distant over the past three months and she didn’t know what had gone wrong. Well…except for her working. He hated the hours she spent away from home, but with her mother’s passing, Broomstix had become hers. The irony wasn’t lost on her. A witch who didn’t want to be, or worse yet, was terrible at it.

She thought back to her mother’s last days and the love she had for her trusty cat, Jules. They’d been inseparable.

“You need a familiar, love. Sometimes having someone at your back and by your side is the most powerful magic in the world.”

Magdalay’s lips twisted and she sighed. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried. Every cat she’d gotten went missing in a matter of days. When she’d gone to Russ about the missing animals, he’d had nothing to say. Frustrating wasn’t even half the word for it. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for animals. Then she thought all she needed was her soul mate. That would have to be enough. She’d always thought Russ was that person, but more and more, she sensed a tremendous gulf between them, and it left her hollow inside.

Last month she’d been at the stitching circle and each of the ladies was practicing poppet magic. The little cloth dolls danced and frolicked in anticipation of whatever task they were intended for. Hers lay there, looking still and unresponsive. It was to be a creative muse for her magic. She figured if she could cast a spell and have a poppet work on some of her overdue plot lines and synopses, she’d be ahead of the game. No such luck.

The stitching circle, full of her mother’s old friends, thought it was hilarious. Now on top of her writing schedule, it was her responsibility to keep Broomstix going. People depended on her, and she was trying to learn as much as she could. Gaining the knowledge she needed wasn’t going as smooth as she’d like.

Her gaze raked the cluttered counter where her husband paid bills and recoiled. No way was she touching that. “Not a chance.” Then she remembered Russ had the same model laptop she did. She could borrow his charger and pick hers up tomorrow when she went back into work. Problem solved.

“I’m out. See you tonight,” came the clipped response from the front hallway followed by the slamming of the decorative lead glass door. He hadn’t even come into the kitchen. Not even for coffee.

“Wow.” Now she knew he was avoiding her and likely hiding something. Magdalay shook her head, the bitterness of her new reality sliding down her stomach like a Ping Pong ball. His behavior stung, and she didn’t know what to make of it. She moved down the hall, her linen nightgown floating around her legs. In the Texas heat, it helped to have something comfortable and the Eileen West nightgowns were her guilty pleasure. Goddess knew she needed something.

She paused in the doorway to his office and sighed. Goddess, she hated invading his space. Maybe the charger was right out in the open and she could snap it up and be out before she disturbed anything of importance. Then she saw it. Propped on a pile of paperwork next to his computer was her small, holiday design-covered Ziploc bag with her cord dangling off the desk over the top of it.

“What the heck?” Her lips slid into a frown and she unclenched her hands. He took it. Probably to do the same thing she’d been about to do, but at least she would have replaced his where she found it as soon as she was done. She reached down to pick up the bag and wind up the charging cord, and her hand brushed the mouse on his desk, the darkened screen erupting to life. His e-mail was up. She wouldn’t have stopped save for the name on the screen.


Slowly, Magdalay lowered herself into the chair and began to read. She hadn’t meant to intrude on his privacy. They’d always respected each other enough to be honest. At least she’d always thought so. But with every line she read, the trust she believed her marriage was based on was revealed to be nothing more than a lie.

She hated wives who resorted to sneaking into their husband’s phone records and all of those things to find out what they’d been up to. Now, here she was, and she didn’t have a clue what to do about it. What was done was done and couldn’t be taken back. One e-mail turned into two. Two turned into a dozen, and at that point she had to stop, the contents of her stomach churning like wildfire in her gut.

Fuck me. Fuck me like you did in your office.

I want it all.

You motherfucker.

Tears stung her eyes. There was no other explanation was there? It was all laid out in black and white. The only thing missing was a frigging video of them fornicating. Her stomach lurched.

The lump in her throat threatened to overtake her, and she had to pause and take a deep breath. Her mother’s absence was a raw and gaping wound. Eleanor would have known what to do, but Magdalay was frozen with indecision. Her thoughts turned to the ladies in her stitching circle. They met once a month but it wasn’t scheduled until next week. Goddess, but she sure could use some comfort now. Or at least, a sounding board for her fury. Her fingertips itched to zot the fucker but no…not yet. Not that she was fully capable, but her circle was. She’d seen it time and again.

But the emails…she read the last line again.

I want to run my fingers down your long, long legs and part your… She had to stop. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her once again.

“You cheating bastard,” she whispered.She had to be sure. It was possible it was only emails. In her heart, she knew that was a lie. Magdalay stood, her knees shaking and made her way out of Russ’s office to her work space in the kitchen. She hooked up the laptop to the charger and shoved the plug into the wall.

Magdalay considered her options. She could wait and confront him when he got home. Whenever that would be.

Or she could hex him where he stood and watch as his dick shriveled up and fell off. A tiny smile twitched at the corner of her lips at the idea. If only. With her luck, she’d turn him into an overlarge piece of beef jerky and have to explain that one to the police.

Not a good idea. Her magic was unpredictable at best. She’d hid it from him, not wanting to go there. It wasn’t her fault she was born a witch. It was her choice whether or not to use it. If something needing a spell came up, she waited until her hubby was off doing engineer things or sleeping in front of the television. Proof. She needed more proof. The laptop whirled to life and she pulled up her search engine.

What about a private detective? She had a little mad money put aside for the dress she wanted for the romance writer’s convention in a few months. Magdalay had no idea what the detective would cost, but she had to know. With unblinking eyes she typed, private investigator Spinnaker, Texas then she closed her eyes, rolled the mouse, and clicked on the Blue Moon Detective Agency.

About the author:

Dana Wright has always had a fascination with things that go bump in the night. She is often found playing at local bookstores, trying not to maim herself with crochet hooks or knitting needles, watching monster movies with her husband and furry kids or blogging about books. More commonly, she is chained to her computers, writing like a woman possessed. She is currently working on several children’s stories, young adult fiction, romantic suspense, short stories and is trying her hand at poetry. She is a contributing author to Ghost Sniffer’s CYOA, Siren’s Call E-zine in their “Women in Horror” issue in February 2013 and “Revenge” in October 2013, a contributing author to Potatoes!, Fossil Lake, Of Dragons and Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds, Undead in Pictures, Potnia, Shadows and Light, Dark Corners (upcoming), Wonderstruck, Shifters: A Charity Anthology, Dead Harvest, Monster Diaries, Holiday Horrors and the Roms, Bombs and Zoms Anthology from Evil Girlfriend Media. She is the author of Asylum, The Invitation and Texas Twister.   Dana has also reviewed music for specializing in New Age and alternative music and has been a contributing writer to Eternal Haunted Summer, Massacre Magazine, Metaphor Magazine, The Were Traveler October 2013 edition: The Little Magazine of Magnificent Monsters, the December 2013 issue The Day the Zombies Ruled the Earth. She currently reviews music at New Age Music Reviews and Write a Music Review.

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Twitter: @danawrite

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Shelli Rosewarne

I’m not much of a fan of Zombies, but Shelli’s book sounds intriguing! This one could change my mind!

Promo 4

Hi Michele, and thanks so much for having me over to visit. I’m really excited about my new release, Love Reawakened, which is … wait for… zombie themed. I know, right? You think zombies and it’s more ick than mmmmh, especially when it comes to a romance. Well, thankfully, the story doesn’t have a zombie love interest, but a cute, sassy witch and a rather drool-worthy necromancer, and while I’m normally a complete and utter horror wuss then when these characters came to me I knew I just had to write their story. (Or maybe it was the fact they gave me no peace until I did, one of the two lol). Some of my favourite reviews from it so far are those that start with, ‘I’m not normally into zombies, but…’ – I would like to think it’s a zombie story for people like me, who hide behind the couch at horror movies.

It’s got magic, action, romance and a zombie cat called Mittens (hey, he doesn’t shed, maybe it’ll catch on), so something for everyone. I really hope you check it out.

Cemetery in a foggy full moon night


For Emma Strachan, raising zombies is all in a day’s work. A girl has to pay the bills somehow! But when what should be a simple raising goes horribly wrong, Emma is forced to ask for help from the one man she swore never to see again.

Garret is used to being a loner, as a necromancer he works best that way and frankly, with the dangers he faces every day, it’s easier not to have to look out for anyone else. When Emma shows up on his doorstep desperate for help, he vows to ignore the raging attraction between them – after all a pretty, fun-loving witch has no place in his world.

Can Emma and Garret put aside old resentments in order to try and defeat a zombie unlike anything they have seen before? When the dust settles, can they count on any future between them?


“Why?” he muttered. “Really, you couldn’t think of anyone else?” He opened his eyes to Emma standing over him, hands on hips and glaring.

“Oh, silly me! When you were lying on the ground unconscious and covered in blood with a life-threatening zombie bite, I should have scrolled through my address book to find someone you would approve of! Next time I’ll goddamn leave you there!”

Tears glistened in her eyes, and the guilt reared up again. Damn, he could be a real arse sometimes. He reached out for her hand, tugging lightly so she sat down on the edge of the bed, albeit with bad grace.

“I’m sorry, honey. I know you only did what you thought was right at the time. It’s just a bit of a shock seeing him again.”

Her gaze softened a little. “He does love you, you know. Why else would he drop everything to come and save your sorry ass?”

“So he could hold it over me for evermore?” he suggested glumly.

She sighed. “I’m sure that’s not the case, but either way, you’re alive. So surely it’s worth it?”

He supposed it had to be. He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, the softness and warmth of her skin soothing him.

She smiled down at him. “Besides, if you’re talking about owing people, don’t I get anything for helping keep you alive back there?”

He grinned at her. “Nice try, honey. If I remember rightly, I got injured by your zombie, while saving your arse. So if anything, you should owe me.”

She leaned forwards, a wicked glint in her eyes that sent blood pooling to certain areas.

“Is that so?” she whispered, her lips a breath away from his. “I kinda liked the idea of you owing me.”

He swallowed. “Oh yeah? And what would you want in payment?”

She closed the distance between them, crushing her lips to his, and he groaned as the world dropped away.

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I’d also love for you to stay in touch, you can find me on social media at the following links:

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Twitter – @shellirosewarne

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Sheri Velarde

Today I have Sheri Velarde as my guest talking about her new book, Code Black. Here’s what she has to say about why she wrote a zombie book.


Zombies. We all know about them and we all fear them to some degree. The big debate is usually what is more fearsome, intelligent zombies or mindless horde zombies? For me it is a mixture of both, but I chose more of the hordes of zombies for Code Black. Why? Because of how they turn into zombies, how they are infected. I based this all on one of my real fears, losing myself to a disease. To get a bit personal, I have multiple sclerosis, a neurological disease and my greatest fear is someday not being me. That is the starting point for my zombies, though of course I combined it with something completely different. It’s scarier if anyone at any time can become infected and lose themselves don’t you think? Because seriously, who wants to continue to live if all sense of self is gone, if you are a mindless monster? To me losing that sense of self is what is really terrifying about zombies, though eating people doesn’t sound too pleasant either! lol


A disease that can destroy the entire fabric of society, how can one face down such odds?

Sara lives on Key Largo, a place she knows she should have left after the last hurricane, but she can’t quite walk away from it. When warning sirens go off, she fears for the safety of her home more than anything else. That is, until she realizes that something much more than severe weather is heading her way.

When her own government blows up the only escape to the mainland and her neighbors begin to attack one another, Sara learns she can only depend on herself. With the aid of her uncle and Cameron, a National Guard soldier helping her along the way, she is on the run for her life. Harsh realities she never thought she would have to face are now part of her life. Can she do what it takes to survive, or will she always be on the run and wondering what might have been?


“What the hell do you mean ‘the bridge is closed’? Something odd is going on here. We’ve never had the National Guard here for an evacuation, and you are telling me that you just expect us to wait it out here on the island and not ask questions? I heard the warning sirens. We are supposed to be evacuating! Let us through!” Sara demanded, trying to push past the mass of muscle in a National Guard uniform blocking her way.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. We have orders that no one is to cross the bridge. No one is allowed to enter Miami,” the officer said, not budging an inch.

“I just told you that the evacuation sounded, e-v-a-c-u-a-t-i-o-n, and you’re telling me that we can’t leave? It’s probably a late hurricane, and you expect us all just to hope we make it through that here in the Keys? We need to get to the mainland!” Sara threw up her hands in frustration. The memory of the last hurricane which destroyed her family home remained clear in her mind. She should have moved after her family had lost almost everything, but something held her in Key Largo.

“It is not a hurricane warning, ma’am. Please go back to your home and you will be fine.”

Just then, the officer’s walkie-talkie went off. “Miami has been lost. Move everyone away from the bridge. We must prevent the spread and contamination. This is a Code Black. Repeat, this is a Code Black. All civilians must be moved a safe distance from the bridge. You have five minutes.”

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Twitter handle: Sher_V



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The Scandalous Proposal of Lord Bennett

My guest today is Raven McAllan. She is letting us all know about her new book, The Scandalous Proposal of Lord Bennett!

Raven photo smaller pic May 15 copyHi everyone. It’s great to be here and talking about my latest book, The Scandalous Proposal of Lord Bennett.
It’s my debut novel with Carina, out on 22nd of September on Amazon and Kobo, and up for pre-order before then. I’m more than a little excited. As every publishing house works in different ways, it’s been a steep, and thrilling learning curve. I’m enjoying every second of it.
I fell into writing Regency romance almost by accident. I’ve always been fascinated by that era, by the undercurrents and the secrets that filled the ton and the way people behaved, and decided I’d like to see if I could put some of the machinations and romance into words.
Let’s hope I’ve succeeded.


To have and to hold?
Reluctant debutante Lady Clarissa Macpherson has never forgotten the forbidden kiss she shared with notorious rake, Lord Theodore ‘Ben’ Bennett, all those years ago. Even now, he’s the one man who sets Clarissa’s pulse racing and her skin tingling – no matter how hard she tries to ignore it!
Yet, when Ben rescues her from the unwanted advances of a drunken Lord at a society ball, she finds herself in a most scandalous predicament – engaged, to the most eligible bachelor in London!
Wedded? It appears so, but bedded? Clarissa demands more from her marriage than simply surrendering to her new husband’s sexual desires, especially when she realizes she’s falling deeper in love with him every single day. Ben must prove that she’s the only woman for him – and surrender his heart!
Yet resisting her new husband’s delicious seduction may prove the hardest thing Clarissa has ever done…
A wee tease…
‘All the gardens were my mama’s favourites when she was alive.’ Stupid. After all, how could they be if she were dead? ‘She would have said exactly the same with regard to the staff. I’ll make a note to let them know.’ He experienced the usual sharp pang of loss that hit him whenever he thought of his long-gone mama. She had passed when he was at Eton, and Ben still experienced the loss, as if it were the day before. ‘I feel they may be neglected somewhat. I’m sure she – I – would be happy for your input.’
Her sigh stirred the hairs on his neck.
‘You don’t like the idea?’ He’d thought she’d be pleased. Truly the way a woman’s mind worked could be a mystery. For one fleeting moment Ben had a vision of his last mistress. Her mind worked in one way only – calculating what was in it for her. He had parted company with the fair lady when her demands began to be inappropriate. Right from the start he’d told her it was a temporary liaison and, whatever she’d thought, he’d had no intention of altering the status quo. And now he was married? Ben had an uneasy feeling life might not be the same, even though he thought he and his wife had come to an understanding.
‘The gardens?’ he prompted Clarissa when it seemed she wasn’t going to answer.
‘Oh yes, the gardens. Perhaps.’ Her offhand, indifferent tone of voice irritated him. The knock on the door came as a welcome relief. Ben was out of his depth, and he didn’t like the sensation.
He liked the news even less.
‘What do you mean, some idiot’s driven into my coach?’ He roared the words, and blinked rapidly, as if the gesture would change the declaration uttered by the harried footman in front of him. ‘How the hades did you let that happen?’
Clarissa placed her hand on Ben’s arm. How he stopped himself from shaking it off, he had no idea. He glanced at her impatiently. She stood her ground and returned his perusal.
‘My lord, have you never heard the expression do not shoot the messenger? Scraptoft here is only relaying what’s happened. He is neither responsible for it, nor able to alter the chain of events. He’s told you about the accident, and you need to go and see for yourself what’s to be done.’
The footman flashed a grateful glance in her direction and Ben gritted his teeth. She was right, of course, but he didn’t like to be reminded of it in such a fashion.
‘Of course, my dear, you are, as ever, correct.’ He cursed the defensive tone.
‘I accept your apologies and acknowledgement, my lord.’ The words and intonation were dulcet, the look in her eyes not so. ‘I will arrange for our food to be delayed until your return.’
Ben nodded curtly. ‘Thank you.My apologies, Scraptoft. It is, of course, not your doing. Forgive me – I was somewhat perturbed.’ He gestured to the man to precede him, and turned back to his wife once the other man had left the room.
‘I trust you can entertain yourself while I’m away?’
Her eyes filled with mischief, and he could have sworn she choked back a laugh.
‘Of course, sir. I have a book.’

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Madeline Martin

Madeline Martin is my guest today! Her new Highland book, Possession of a Highlander, is the second in a series of three books.


1. What is your educational background? I went to Flagler College in St. Augustine, FL and majored in Business Administration with minors in Economics, Political Science and Accounting. For my day job, I run reports and work with SQL. Writing is my passion :)

2.  Looking at your website, you seem to be very active. What are your goals for biking, running, etc? Aw, thank you :) I really just love to work out. I’m addicted to that post-workout rush. I guess, if anything, my goal would be for my daughters (AKA the minions) to see how much I enjoy working out and want to follow my example and get joy from being healthy and active as well.

3. Why have you decided to concentrate on Scottish Highlands romances? I started reading Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series when I was on maternity leave. Suddenly all those stories roiling around in my head took on a Scottish slant. So when I started really sitting down to write a full novel, that’s what came out.

4. How many books do you plan to write in this series? How are the books related? Do each of the books stand alone, or do they need to be read in sequence? There are three books in this series: Deception of a Highlander, Possession of a Highlander and Enchantment of a Highlander - the last one is the only one not available yet. They’re linked through the heroes, but very loosely so and can all be read as stand alone without issue.

5. When can we expect book 3, and what will it be about? Enchantment of a Highlander is Alec’s story (he’s my super alpha male and I LOVE this story so much) comes out January 19th. I’m including the Goodreads link if anyone wants to read the blurb and add it to their ‘Want to read’ list


Back cover blurb:

Brianna Lindsay’s grip on the inheritance that is rightly hers hangs by a thread. If the town finds out her father has died, Brianna will be forced into marriage with her loathsome cousin, Lord Robert, and will lose all of Edzell Castle and its lands. To protect her home, she’ll have to trust a complete stranger, a brooding Highland barbarian who sweeps into Edzell with a small retinue and insists on replacing her Captain of the Guard. He proves his worth by defeating her men and she has no choice but to accept his offer.

Though his motives are suspect, Colin MacKinnon has nobility in his blood and good intentions in coming to Edzell. He seeks his own kingdom, one to rival his father’s, and sets out to conquer Brianna in the best way he knows how—with seduction.

Brianna never thought of all the wealth she protects, the one thing she has left completely vulnerable is her heart. Colin never thought that of everything he stands to achieve, he might have to face the unexpected pain of loss. Together, they must navigate a treacherous world of spies and intrigue, of legacy and fidelity, of love and betrayal, to find what is truly worth possessing.

Here’s an excerpt of Possession of a Highlander – it’s short and sweet, but I love it:

He caught her hand mid-swing.

Just one look.

She stopped, and her warm gaze rose to meet his.
Her face was flushed beneath fair skin, her lips pink.
Just one touch.
He brushed the curve of her cheek with his fingertips, down her jaw to the delicate line of her throat. She tilted her head back and her lashes fluttered closed.
Her lips were mere inches from his.
Just one kiss.
His heart slammed in his chest. His breath came fast.
He grasped the back of her neck and threaded his fingers through her silky hair. If he was going to allow himself only one kiss, he would relish it.

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