Thursday, December 5, 2024

Meet My Fellow Wild Rose Press Author Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy, and Read About Her New Holiday Romance HOMEWARD BOUND HEARTS, and Delicious Pumpkin Bread Recipe

 Lee Ann and I are doing a blog exchange that includes holiday recipes (mine is struffoli, "honey balls"), and she is featuring HOMEWARD BOUND HEARTS, on sale December 16.


About Lee Ann

Lee Ann writes from the heart about everyday people caught up in often extraordinary circumstances. Although she makes her home in the small town of Neosho, Missouri in the Ozarks, she’s a native of St. Joseph, Missouri. When she’s not writing or reading, she may be teaching at church. She’s penned more than fifty full length novels, has been included in two dozen anthologies, and published many short stories and articles.  Her novels and short fiction have won awards. Her publishers include World Castle Publishing, Evernight Publishing, and The Wild Rose Press. She is widowed with three children. She enjoys cooking, gardening, and sitting on the front porch in what passes for suburbs in a small town.


About HOMEWARD BOUND HEARTS

A story of Christmas, faith, love and redemption, and a bronc rider ready to play Santa!

Take one saddle bronc ridin’ cowboy, Jeb Hill, the Hillbilly Hotshot, who suffers the worst injury of his career. Send him home to be cared for by a widowed nurse, Shelby Thacker, who struggles to pay her bills and support her two children. Add some friendship, then stir in a little attraction. Complicate things with the return of Jeb’s long absent father and throw in the Christmas season. Jeb wants an old-fashioned, heartwarming Christmas, but Shelby’s poverty destroyed her holiday spirit long ago. Toss in some faith, a country church, and a rodeo rider ready to play Santa Claus. Shelby’s and Jeb’s friendship deepens, but can they fulfill each other’s hopes and dreams?

JEBEDIAH ‘JEB’ HILL has ridden saddle broncs for years as ‘The Hillbilly Hotshot” but when he’s pitched hard into the dirt in an arena, it’s the last ride for Jeb. He feared he broke his back but the spinal fracture is serious enough to land him in the hospital. He’ll walk again but recovery will require months. The medical staff tells him he’ll walk but he won’t compete in rodeo again. Jeb has a choice – either he can check into a rehab facility or recuperate at home with an in-home nurse. He opts for the latter and returns home to the farm where he was raised in Northern Missouri.

SHELBY THACKER is a widowed home health care nurse, raising her two children despite her financial troubles. When she’s assigned to Jeb’s case, Shelby expects an older man and is surprised to meet a patient close to her age. She was hired to work with him each day but spend her nights at home.

Jeb isn’t the easiest patient and worries about staying alone at night when he can barely move. Shelby realizes his fears and returns on the first night. He offers to allow her and her children to move into the rambling old farmhouse while she’s on his case.


His expectations for a long recovery were dim but Jeb finds Shelby and her children, Levi and Lexi, to be cheerful companions. Although he’s not been around many children, he likes her kids. Shelby, armed with a list of the foods he likes, cooks up meals he truly enjoys.


As Jeb graduates from a walker to a cane, a friendship grows between them but Jeb soon learns Shelby is stubborn. Since he has more than enough money, he offers to help the struggling widow but Shelby refuses. She’ll earn her money and stand on her own two feet.


Since Jeb’s farm lies outside of town, closer to a small rural community, Shelby drives the children to school and back each day. Once the job ends, she plans to move back to her old house despite the disrepair. After his first doctor’s visit, Shelby and Jeb have an impromptu picnic at a scenic spot. They talk and kiss for the first time.


Shelby allows Jeb, who can now get around on a limited basis, inside her house so she can pick up a few things. While there, she finds part of the upstairs bathroom floor has sunk, which Jeb tells her is unsafe. He notes many other critical repairs needed before she moves back inside.


Dismayed, Shelby agrees she’ll stay at Jeb’s until some repairs are made. At the same time, her children get closer to Jeb. Levi plays soccer and Jeb attends the games along with Shelby and Lexi. When the stores begin having Christmas items, the kids dream about what they want for the holiday. Jeb learns Shelby doesn’t do much for Christmas. She hasn’t put up a tree since her husband died three years earlier and she can’t afford many presents. He learns her dad died around the holiday so Shelby has her reasons to be a Scrooge.


Jeb, however, wants a glorious Christmas. He plans for a tree, a fine dinner, many presents, and fun for everyone.


He and Shelby debate over how the holiday will be.  In the meantime, they also begin attending Jeb’s childhood church a few miles away from the farm.


Jeb’s mother died when he was twelve and his paternal grandparents raised him. His dad left soon after his wife’s death so Jeb’s relationship with his father is rocky. His dad, Josiah Hill, shows up wanting money. He’s been drinking but Jeb gives him cash and sends him away.


Shelby realizes genial, generous Jeb has a hard side, too, and isn’t sure what to think.

Shelby’s mom, Delia, was wary about Jeb at first and urged her daughter to avoid a relationship with her patient. She soon likes the man, too, and is a big part of their lives.


Halloween passes and by then, Jeb loves Shelby and she says she loves him too. Neither know where they will go from here and for the moment they enjoy life one day at a time.


Just before Thanksgiving, Shelby visits her house in town to retrieve some warm clothes and her children’s coats. As they arrive, she realizes something looks strange with the roof, then see part of it has caved in. Despite the danger, she rushes inside to grab the items she needs. Jeb follows her and pulls her out just before the rest of the roof gives away. Her house is now a wreck and unlivable.


Shelby is upset and has a hard time with the loss. Jeb steps up to help cook for the kids and offers his support.


They prepare for Thanksgiving but on the weekend before, Jeb’s dad returns. This time he’s sober, returns most of the money, and asks if he can stay. Jeb wants to refuse then relents and allows his dad to bunk in the hired hand’s room in the barn. If his dad drinks or causes trouble, he’ll be asked to leave.

Family and friends gather for a traditional Thanksgiving at the farmhouse. Shelby does some Christmas shopping and Jeb does more. He’s ready to put up a tree but his plans are put on hold when Shelby comes down with a bad case of the flu. Delia takes the children home so they won’t get sick and Jeb nurses Shelby.


He’s decided to ask her to marry him around Christmas.


A major winter storm is predicted and so Jeb reacts. First, he asks his dad if he wants to move into the guest room where it will be warmer. They have been rebuilding their relationship one day at a time. Jeb and his father make a trip to town to prepare for the incoming weather. They finally pick up a Christmas tree, plenty of groceries, last minute gifts, and a ring for Shelby.


Delia comes to stay at the farmhouse, so she won’t miss Christmas with her daughter and grandchildren. She and Josiah are getting along well and it seems there may be another relationship in the making.

They decorate the tree and prepare for Christmas. The predicted snow arrives and drops several feet. The church Christmas Eve program is cancelled but they hunker down, make merry, and prepare for December 25.


Jeb intended to propose on Christmas Eve but the right moment didn’t come.


At the same time, Shelby wonders where this relationship might be headed and thinks about a new job. She even considers finding a place to rent. They can’t stay with Jeb forever.


Early on Christmas morning, Jeb asks Shelby if she will be his wife and she agrees.


They decide on a New Year’s Day wedding and their future together begins with joy.


In the last chapter, readers will see some of their future and the book ends with Jeb as a blessed and happy man.



Excerpt

Her new patient arrived in a medical transport van, and she noticed gray shot through his black hair. So, he is old. Then she caught sight of his face, and her mouth dropped open. Mr. Hill wasn’t old at all, despite the salt-and-pepper hair. His lean face tapered to a pointed chin, and he sported a slender hawk-style nose. His eyes were the deep-blue of the ocean or the sky in summer. He isn’t old, and he’s very handsome.


When he stood, using the walker, Shelby realized how tall he was. Still, she remained professional. She introduced herself, settled him into bed, and positioned his body for comfort. When he didn’t object to the kids, she heaved a sigh of relief.


She chose the menu early from a notebook where she’d written down everything she received about his case, from his dietary preferences to the doctor’s orders. Shelby had a section on his medications and his medical history, and flipping through it as she cooked, she realized she’d missed his birthdate. In case he had a birthday coming soon, she wanted to know so found the date on his records.


He would turn thirty-one in December, which made him three years older. Nothing indicated his career, and she had guessed him to be an attorney or college professor or an advertising man. When Jeb mentioned he’d been a saddle bronc rider, Shelby had been stunned. It wasn’t a career she’d considered he might have. Once she knew, however, she understood and realized it matched his injury.




 

Pre-Order HOMEWARD BOUND HEARTS


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The Wild Rose Press


Apple Books




Pumpkin Bread Tradition and Recipe

When we remember the holiday seasons of the past, we often recall the favorite foods or recipes we prepare. During my childhood, my family hosted a multi-generational Christmas celebration which included both sets of grandparents, a great-grandmother, often aunts, uncles, and cousins, as well as my parents and siblings. Sometimes we included a family friend or two as well. Our table was abundant with offerings including everything from roast turkey to ham and the occasional quail from my dad’s frequent hunting trips. Side dishes included my great-grandmother’s sage and onion stuffing, mashed potatoes and homemade gravy, family recipe egg noodles, yeast bread or hot rolls fresh from the oven, and an array of vegetable dishes. Since Christmas was also my mom’s birthday, we had a bakery birthday cake along with other cakes and pies. Pumpkin and apple were always the two top favorites.

We also had pumpkin bread, which my mother baked in coffee cans for some reason I don’t know. I still bake it but either in a loaf pan or a cute turkey shaped pan I bought years ago. 

We also bake cutout sugar cookies, using well-used cookie cutters handed down over several generations. We first baked the cookies and frosted them with bright colors as a gift for Pop, my paternal grandfather, but it became a tradition which has endured long after his passing.

Although now the mantle of hosting Christmas for a smaller number of guests has fallen to me, I mostly make the foods our bunch has come to expect. It wouldn’t be Christmas without them, and I’ve added a few items from my late husband’s side of the family.

Pumpkin, though, isn’t just for Thanksgiving. Here’s my tried and true pumpkin bread recipe, sure to please almost anyone.

Pre-heat oven to 350 and prepare a loaf (or other) pan

Ingredients:

1 2/3 cup all-purpose flour

1 ½ cups sugar

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

¾ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon baking powder

¾ to one teaspoon pumpkin pie spice (adjust to taste – some like it spicier than others)

2 large eggs

1 cup canned pumpkin

½ cup canola oil

½ cup water

½ cup raisins and ½ cup walnuts to taste

Combine dry ingredients, add beaten eggs, pumpkin, oil and water. Blend well. Add raisins and walnuts if desired.

Bake at 350 for 1 hour and fifteen minutes or until a knife comes out clean.

Enjoy the holiday season with my fictional characters. They have their favorite dishes too. Try my tried-and-true pumpkin bread recipe for a delicious addition to any feast.

Have a wonderful holiday season. Take time to slow down and savor the moments!



Connect With Lee Ann




Thursday, November 14, 2024

Meet My Fellow Next Chapter Author James Quinn, Read About His New Release, Thriller GRAVEYARD OF SPIES, and an In-Depth Chat

 About James

James is the author of the "Gorilla Grant" series of spy novels including A Game for Assassins, Berlin Reload and the novella Gorilla Warfare which is currently being developed as a Hollywood movie.   He has also written the spy story The Fisherman and the short story anthology Clandestine. 

A professional intelligence and security consultant, he currently resides in the UK but likes to travel extensively around the globe; partly to research his books and partly for the adventure of it all! 

In his spare time he likes to play the drums, learn the guitar and enjoy the finer things in life.

About GRAVEYARD OF SPIES




An MI6 network betrayed 

A spy on the run 

A Father’s hunt for the truth


David Harkness, retired MI6 field agent and once a top operative in Tehran, has been out of the espionage game for decades.  Now living in self imposed exile in Barcelona, he has cut himself off from the cloak-and-dagger world he once knew.

But when a contact from his past tells him that his daughter has gone missing in Iran, David is plunged back into a world of conspiracy, double-cross and espionage. 

Set during the maelstrom of 1970’s Pre-Revolutionary Iran and the modern terrorism war between East and West, James Quinn’s Graveyard of Spies is a thrilling story of one man’s quest to discover the truth and protect what he loves the most – no matter what the cost.

An Excerpt From GRAVEYARD OF SPIES

* Note – I kind of like this scene in the book.  It is relatively unremarkable, but highlights perfectly the full spectrum of an intelligence operatives life when he or she is active.  One moment you can be at a grand garden party or dinner, the next you can be meeting your source in a supermarket car-park in the rain on a dismal Tuesday night and be boosting their ego up so that they will gather more information for you.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy.  JQ 




I have been invited to Bertie Vivian’s leaving party.  My lightweight summer suit has one of its regular outings. We are all gathered into the grounds of the British Embassy in Tehran.  It is a garden party as only the Brits can do it; marquee, sandwiches, buckets of ice-cold white wine and of course the obligatory cake that announces, Sorry to see you go

Bertie as usual is the centre of attention, holding court with the Ambassador and his staff, talking about his retirement plans, which seem to involve buying a house a stone’s-throw from Lords Cricket Ground.

Davenport is, for one last time, in Bertie’s shadow, because he knows that this time next week, he will officially be declared the MI6 Head of Station in Tehran, a prize that he has coveted since the moment he got here.  Eventually, the future head of MI6 in Iran disentangles himself from the social aspects of his job and seeks me out.  We nod and move over to the shade of the garden.  Spies, even on their home turf, have a way of feeling more comfortable in the shadows.

“It all sounds rather unlikely?” says Davenport at our innocent-looking, but not so innocent meeting over by the garden fountain.  He has clearly read my latest agent report about Farah.

“It’s what I’m hearing from Sparrowhawk,” I say confidently.  

“Wouldn’t we have heard something from the CIA boys?  I mean, they have Tehran sewn up pretty tight?” counters the MI6 man.

I sipped at my ice-cold wine.  “The Americans own the government, but I’m less convinced that they know what’s happening on the ground here in Tehran, maybe not even throughout all of Iran.  They have gotten fat, dumb and happy.”

There is a commotion over by the marquee and someone calls for quiet, only later we discover that it is Bertie.  A radio is tuned properly and the volume is turned up.  People from the MI6 Station are gathered around it, like a doctor trying to listen to a heartbeat.

Davenport puts down his half empty glass of Champagne and starts to walk quickly over to the marquee.  I follow him but at a slower pace, confused about what is happening.  It is only as I get nearer that I can make out the words in Farsi from the BBC World News. 

It turns out that the Shah’s security forces have fired on a group of unarmed protestors in Jaleh Square.  Reports are sketchy, but the estimates coming in suggest that a dozen people have been killed, gunned down.  As the hour moves on, we start to get reports that the number has risen until finally it tops out at over one hundred dead Iranians on the streets of Tehran.  This day would later go down in the firestorm of Iranian politics and be known as ‘Black Friday’.

“The Iranians have lost the plot and the Shah has truly fucked things up!” I hear someone say by the buffet table.

“It’s the Ayatollah’s fault that bloody Khomeini is stirring the honey pot from Europe,” I hear another throw out to the crowd.

The following weeks are filled with tension and death on a scale that no civilised country should have to bear, but these are concerns for people far superior to me.  My concern is in running my sources and maintaining my cover on the street.  Policy is directed by London. I’m just a worker bee and my chief concern is for Farah, agent Sparrowhawk.  Farah, my Farah, is balancing the life of a teacher and that of my source inside the growing underground movements that are opposed to the Shah and his brutality.

Then, as is usual in all agent case managements, we hit our first snag.  Is it a big snag? Not at first, no, and with a little handling it could be contained.  But these things tend to grow to have a life of their own if left unchecked.

I meet her one night after work at a café we both know and she is late, which for Sparrowhawk is unusual.  When she finally arrives, she looks shaken, clutching her books across her chest in a protective manner. 

“What’s up?” I ask, confused by her body language.  No kiss on the cheek.  No smile.  No laughing.

“I have something to show you,” she says quietly.

“What?”

“Something has happened.  Something has happened to me.”

I frown.  My brow furrows.  “Okay… tell me.”

By way of an answer, she looks around the half-empty café to make sure no one is paying attention to us and then lifts up her jumper.  I see the bruises against the right side of her ribs and finger-marks around her wrists.  I remember gaping in horror at the time.

“Who did this?  When did this happen?” I say and I hear that my voice has dropped several octaves until it is an audible growl.

For a moment, it is as if my personalities have split in two.  The shock of seeing someone I love who is hurt, and then the cool detachment of the agent handler takes over and practicalities return. I go to the counter and order some more tea; partly to give myself a moment to calm down and partly to wonder how I should approach this.  Has she been robbed?  My mind is in a tailspin.

“Okay,” I remember saying at the time as I poured the tea.  “Tell me everything.”




Purchase GRAVEYARD OF SPIES


A Chat With James


             

Do you spend more time researching or writing?

Ohhh, that's a great question!  I think writing if I’m honest although I do enjoy the research part of the process.  I’m a travel/location fiend so I do like to look over where I’m setting the stories.

After that the writing element comes in waves for me – it's all or nothing!!  I either write like a mad man for several days and then I go through my drought spell while nothing happens for weeks on end.  Then I get my second wind and the process starts all over again until it is finished!  Its not a perfect system but it works for me.

Tell me about GRAVEYARD OF SPIES and where you got your inspiration for it.

GRAVEYARD OF SPIES is an espionage novel that takes place in Europe and Iran.  I wanted to move away from the usual action thriller style that I am known for and try something a bit more espionage grounded. 

Over the past decade I have worked with people from that part of the world and have become knowledgeable about the politics, history and culture.  I can even speak a limited amount of Farsi which I really enjoyed learning. 

Fundamentally GRAVEYARD OF SPIES is about the relationship between a Father and Daughter – its about family, it’s about how far you would go to protect your loved ones.  Of course all of this is told through the prism of espionage.  It’s probably my most personal book. 

How much of the book is realistic? 

Well, Iran is of course a real place with real issues and a real history.  Do terrible things happen there?  Absolutely yes.  As for the characters, well, that is half the fun, isn’t it, for the reader, trying to figure out how much of it is real.  

Lots (but not all) of the characters in the book are very, very real.  I drew inspiration from multiple sources for others.  And I’m afraid that’s all that I’m prepared to say about that. 

What are your ambitions for your writing career?

Writing has been very, very good to me.  I’ve had a great decade doing it.  Obviously I want the books to do well, but predominantly I want the readers to engage with the characters and to enjoy the stories that I write.  I think that should be the basics for any author. 

I have a plan to return to my original character, Jack “Gorilla” Grant – the MI6 spy/assassin, next year.  It’s the 10th Anniversary for my first book – A GAME FOR ASSASSINS – and I’ve been asked to write a new “Gorilla” story to celebrate – which I’m really looking forward to. 

After that I have several ideas for a new book and new protagonist which I want to explore.  It will still be in the espionage genre, but with a bit of a crime and possibly horror twist added to it. 

Who is your role model? Why? 

To be honest I’m not sure that I have role models.  I know as an espionage author you are obligated to say LeCarre, Greene, Fleming, etc, - and I’ve enjoyed them all throughout my life and career.  I could also add in at least another dozen artists of all denominations that have inspired me throughout the years as well. 

I personally think the greatest achievement as a creative person is to develop your own momentum.  Be your own role model!! 

Share one fact about yourself that would surprise people. 

I have this thing, not quite sure I would call it a gift, more of a quirk.  But I can recognise faces even if I haven’t seen them for years or I may have only seen them once before.  It's sort of a human facial recognition system that probably has some medical term for it.  I don’t necessarily remember their names, but I know where it was I have seen them before and in what context.  It was an invaluable skill when I worked surveillance teams or covertly. 

What genre do you typically read? Why?

Oh, I’ll read anything that takes my interest – I’m certainly not locked to just spy thrillers.  I’m an avid reader and can have two or three books on the go at any one time.  At the moment I’m reading about Carravaggio, one about Vampires and one about Italy.  So a lot going on there! 

Share a favourite childhood memory. 

Going on an airplane for the very first time!!  It was amazing – I got to go up into the cockpit to talk to the pilots and they even let me press the button for the landing gear.  Imagine doing that in this day and age. 

I love to travel all over the world – I’ve been very lucky – and I think that love of travel stems from that sense of adventure. 

What do you think is the biggest challenge of writing a new book? 

It’s like climbing a mountain that you don’t know how big it is.  It’s easy to get to the top, or so you think, only to discover that you have barely left base camp.  Writing a book is like that.  It’s easy to get disheartened.  How many stories have I tossed away like that – probably dozens.  But then you get that right story, that perfect character or piece of dialogue and it makes it all worthwhile.  That’s what gets you through to the other side of the mountain. 

Then when all that is done you have the dreaded marketing to do...ugh.  Someone once said that writing a book is like finishing a marathon, only that when you cross the finish line and receiving your medal you get a punch in the face instead.  That’s writing.  That’s being an author!!  But at least it teaches us to be resilient.

Do you aim for a set amount of words/pages a day? 

I don’t do that.  Never have, never will.  That feels forced to me.  I write when I have something to say, that could be a paragraph or a whole chapter.  It works for me that way, but you do you. 

What are your thoughts on writing a book series? 

I’ve done it!  I started with the Gorilla Grant books and they have been very very popular.  There is a lot of hard work that goes into developing a book series, there is a bit of universe building, but its an awful lot of fun as well. 

I think the trick is knowing when to stop, put a cap on it.  Several well known authors stay too long at the party, I feel, and end up churning out the same old stuff year in and year out for decades.  It becomes more about the money after that and I always feel that the quality suffers as a result. 

I always had it in my head that the Gorilla books would only need 4-5 books to tell his full life story.  That was my end point.  So this new book that is coming in 2025 can be seen as a bit of fun, a segue way between the end of A GAME FOR ASSASSINS and the start of its sequel, SENTINEL FIVE.

But, no, I don’t intend to write Gorilla Grant books forever.  I want to stretch as an author and try new directions.

Great meeting you, James! I am impressed with your output of work, and your answers intrigued me to the point of shaking my head in wonder--especially saying we should all be our own role models! Extremely well thought out and well said! Much success with your Next Chapter books!

 

 


Thursday, October 10, 2024

Meet My Fellow Wild Rose Press Author Karen Bartell and Read About Her Paranormal Romance FOX TALE, Set in Japan, for Spooktober

I met Karen when I saw her featured on another author's blog post, and saw that she's also a Wild Rose Press author. We struck up a lively correspondence, are doing blog exchanges, and are reading each other's books. We share our fascination with the paranormal, although I have no ability in that area--I've never seen a ghost. But I do believe.

About Karen

Author of the Trans-Pecos, Sacred Emblem, Sacred Journey, and Sacred Messenger series, as well as Fox Tale, Kissing Kin, Wild Rose Pass, The Keys: Voice of the Turtle and more, Karen is a best-selling author, motivational keynote speaker, IT technical editor, wife, and all-around pilgrim of life. She writes multicultural, offbeat love stories steeped in the supernatural. Born to rolling-stone parents who moved annually, Bartell found her earliest playmates as fictional friends in books. Paperbacks became her portable pals. Ghost stories kept her up at night—reading feverishly. The paranormal was her passion. Novels offered an imaginative escape. An only child, she began writing her first novel at the age of nine, learning the joy of creating her own happy endings. Professor emeritus of the University of Texas at Austin, Karen resides in the Texas Piney Woods with her husband Peter and her mews—three rescued cats and a rescued *Cat*ahoula Leopard dog.

What separates perception from deception―illusion from reality?

Fox Tale Spooktober


True story! Fox Tale had been in rewrites for three months. We’d been trying to move for eight months but were stymied until we sold our house. Once we found a buyer, we had to move fast. Within days of signing the contract for Fox Tale, we signed a contract for a house on Foxtail Lane. COINCIDENCE?

About Fox Tale

Fox Tale is a paranormal romance set in Kyoto and Tokyo, Japan. It’s about a woman who’s terrified of heights. When Chase saves Ava from plunging down a mountain, he diverts her fears with tales of Japanese kitsune—shapeshifting foxes—and she begins a journey into the supernatural.

She’s attracted to Chase, both physically and metaphysically, yet primal instincts urge caution when shadows suggest more than meets the eye.

She’s torn between him and Rafe, her ex, when a chance reunion reignites their passion, but she struggles to overcome two years of bitter resentment. Did Rafe jilt her, or were they pawns of a larger conspiracy? Are the ancient legends true of kitsunes twisting time and events?

Fox Tale has been nominated for October’s “Cover of the Month” contest:  https://allauthor.com/cover-of-the-month/18478/ 

I’d really appreciate your vote!

Background of Fox Tale

My husband works for a Japanese company. When he was instructed to meet with his Tokyo team, I leapt at the chance to accompany him.

The next thing I did was research Japan’s cryptids. What appeared were Inari’s kitsunes or fox spirits—and voilà, the idea for Fox Tale was born. 

What are Inari’s kitsunes? Japan’s history of foxes is complex.

According to Fox Tale’s leading man, Rafe, “Originally, Inari was the concept of a successful rice harvest. Over time, devotees fleshed out that belief, and Inari became the androgynous god of wealth.”

“And the kitsunes?” asked the protagonist, Ava.

“The relationship has always been cooperative…Initially, foxes kept rice fields free from rodents, ensuring good crop yields. Eventually, people humanized the foxes into guardians and agents.” 

While my husband attended meetings, I explored Tokyo, sometimes alone on foot and sometimes with a group tour. I took copious notes, and each site I visited became part of my developing story. With the supernatural element, as well as the locale established, my imagination began taking flight.

I spoke to locals as often as possible, asking if they believed in kitsune--or if their neighbor or grandmother believed in them. (Luckily, many Japanese speak English!) Not one admitted to believing in the old superstitions, but almost all knew of someone who did. 

Said Fox Tale’s antagonist, Ichiro, “Most Japanese live in concrete canyons, and rational university educations replace superstition. Still, fox stories persist through theater, festivals, language, and literature…or kiterature as I call it.”

“Despite a waning belief?” I leaned closer.

“Even today, some believe in fox possession…although believing in kitsunetsuki might not be fashionable in this age of supercomputers and artificial intelligence, stories still circulate in the tabloids and mass media.”

“For example?”

“In 2019, a doomsday cult member rammed his car into pedestrians on Takeshita Street, then pled not guilty on the grounds that the cult was fox possessed. And as recently as 2022, the Sessho-seki split in two.”

Skeptical, I squinted. “The what did what?”

“The killing stone…according to legend, it imprisoned an evil nogitsune vixen. Her spirit escaped when it split in half and began spewing sulfur fumes, killing anyone that approached…For over a thousand years, Japanese medical practitioners considered kitsunetsuki a disease. Even into the twentieth century, psychologists believed fox possession caused mental illness.”

“But not anymore…” Crossing my arms, I hugged myself, seeking reassurance. “Right?” 

Gathering all the information I could from locals, as well as researching online, the plot for Fox Tale began to take shape. Once I had the realistic component that tied the supernatural to the natural, I had the storyline. Then the characters emerged as the story unfolded in my mind.

When my husband finished his meetings in Tokyo, we visited Kyoto, where we toured Fushimi Inari. The mountain is sacred in the Shinto religion, a place where “deities coexist with nature” and where, some believe, Inari resides.

Fushimi Inari has an ethereal presence. Its otherworldly aura and scenery are difficult to describe, but if anything supernatural could occur, it would happen on that mountain.

While at that shrine, the various parts merged into the basis of Fox Tale: the supernatural element, general locale, plot, characters, and finally the specific location for the otherworldly activity.

Lo and behold, a novel was born.

Excerpt

I applied my makeup with an artist’s hand, blending three shades of eyeshadow and going heavy on the mascara. Then I slipped into the black cocktail dress I’d bought for the occasion--a fusion of chic and slutty.

Wish I knew what Rafe planned for my birthday. Dinner at an upscale restaurant? Pub food at a sports bar?

“A surprise,” was all he’d said.

What’s the fine line between dressed to kill and overdressed? Glancing at the mirror, I glimpsed the exposed décolletage, then examined my naked left hand. More importantly, is tonight the night? After dating for three years, the conversation had finally turned to rings and weddings, and with graduation a month away, I was eager to take the next step.

At six o’clock sharp, I sat by the door, butterflies fluttering in my belly.

Ten minutes passed, fifteen. I texted him. An hour later, I called. When he didn’t pick up, I left a voicemail.

At eight o’clock, I checked my email. No messages, no texts--radio silence.

At nine o’clock, I removed my makeup, the black, smoky taupe, mauve, and greige streaks on the cotton pad mirroring my mood. After showering, I picked at soggy leftovers as I studied my bare left hand. Leftovers…

When the phone dinged, I flinched. Rafe?

Mia--Guess who’s at Tootsie’s? And Rafe’s not alone. What’s going on?--

I sat back, stunned. He wouldn’t break up with me on my birthday--without even the courtesy of telling me--would he?

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Tuesday, October 1, 2024

To Kick Off Spooktober, Meet My Author Friend Alicia Dean and Check Out Her Latest Release CROW GIRL: 13 Stories, 13 Authors...Get Your Fright On

 

I always enjoy hosting Alicia, especially during the creepy season, and you'll see why...

Meet Alicia

At age 10, Alicia wrote her first ever romance (featuring a hero who looked just like Elvis Presley and who shared the name of Elvis’ character in the movie, Tickle Me), and she still has the tattered, pencil-written copy. Alicia lives in Edmond, Oklahoma, where she enjoys reading, writing, MLB, NFL and watching (and rewatching) her favorite television shows like Dexter, Justified, and Breaking Bad. Some of her favorite authors are Michael Connelly, Dennis Lehane, Lee Child, Lisa Gardner, Ridley Pearson, Joseph Finder, and Jonathan Kellerman…to name a few.

Crow Girl ~ A Friday the 13th Horror Short Story by Alicia Dean

I am in awe of how smart crows are. Crows can not only form affectionate bonds with people who treat them well (as did the little girl in the below Mr. Ballen YouTube video), but they can also hold grudges against those who don’t. A team from the University of Washington tested how well the birds could identify human faces using two Halloween masks (one resembling a caveman to be used as the aggressor, the other resembling Dick Cheney for the control).

At five sites, a scientist donned the caveman mask before catching and banding some wild crows. Getting trapped is never a fun experience, and upon their release, the crows loudly scolded their assailant with threatening caws. Seeing this, other birds swooped down to harass the captor. Over several years, researchers wore the masks on strolls through all five test spots. The crows—including many who’d never been captured or banded—scolded and dive-bombed the “caveman” while ignoring “Dick Cheney”.

The younger crows, who were born after the initial experiment, also scolded the “caveman.” The grudge had been passed on.

I went a bit further than simple grudges in my latest release, CROW GIRL, A FRIDAY THE 13th STORY. 😊

Watch Video on YouTube


About CROW GIRL

Ten-year-old Twyla Gillette was abandoned by her mother and placed in an abusive foster home. Teased unmercifully by her classmates, she has no friends—other than the crows. As a toddler, she shared her food with the birds and they befriended her, bringing her gifts and always looking out for her, protecting her.

When the teasing turns to vicious bullying, and her foster family’s abuse becomes more relentless, Twyla relies on the crows to make things right.

It’s not that she wants her friends to hurt anyone…but sometimes wicked people have to learn a lesson.

Excerpt

He was alone in the woods…with nothing around except the psychotic birds. They wouldn’t actually hurt him, though, would they?

He stumbled back and turned to run but tripped on a tree stump and went flying, landing on the ground with a painful thud. He was getting to his feet when something hit him from behind. He grunted and fell to his knees. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the birds…so many of them…swarming, diving, swooping at him. Then they were on him, pecking his face, his head, his chest. He tried to cover his face, but there were so many birds and…how were they so strong? They weren’t that big, but they were in some kind of vicious frenzy, and they were relentless.

One of the birds drove its beak into his ear. Warm, wet liquid dripped down the side of his neck, and agonizing pain ripped through his head. The fuckers had punctured his eardrum. The screeching caws rang out, echoing his terror, drowning out his sobs. Birds continued to attack…tearing him to pieces.

“Help!” he shrieked. “Somebody help me, please!” But he had a feeling only one person could stop this…and he’d locked her up and left her there…all alone in the dark. And now her friends were making him pay. If he could take it back, he would. But he couldn’t do anything except lay on the ground, sobbing and begging for mercy.

Find my story everywhere except Amazon 

(Amazon terminated my account due to false accusations they made against me) https://books2read.com/CrowGirl

Find All 13 of the Friday the 13th #5 Series Here



 

Slideshow