Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Hump Day Blog Hop

There is truly no one like author and blogger Julie Valerie. She never stops coming up with brilliant ideas, and she's created the Hump Day Blog Hop. So check below if you'd like to read some fantastic posts by authors you know and authors you might love.

Like to party? Hop along the Hump Day Blog Hop on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog. Click here to return to the Hump Day Blog Hop.

Friday, March 14, 2014

Elke Feuer: Book Blitz for Deadly Bloodlines


I love suspense, but I had never read a romantic suspense until I tore through the pages of For the Love of Jazz by Elke Feuer. The novel is smart, action-packed and intriguing, and I absolutely loved it. I'm very excited to read Elke's second novel, Deadly Bloodlines.

I'm so happy to be participating in the book blitz, and you can enter to win a copy of For the Love of Jazz by following the link at the end of this post.
 
 BOOK BLITZ TOUR – Deadly Bloodlines



Book Blurb

Years after leaving Cayman because of her notorious serial killer mother, Angel Mason returns as an inspector on the police force. On the twentieth anniversary of her mother’s capture, someone is murdered in the same manner as her mother’s victims.

To complicate matters more, Angel’s old flame, Bren McDougal, is assigned to help her with capturing the killer, and soon it’s undeniably clear that the passion between them is hotter than ever.

As the killer repeats her mother’s deadly pattern, Angel must face the terrifying truth she’d been hiding for twenty years.

What people are saying

“Elke Feuer skillfully keeps you guessing in this twisty-turny romantic suspense story about a Cayman investigator tracking a copycat killer-one imitating the crimes of a her own serial-killer mother. Suspenseful and satisfying!” ~Francine LaSala, author of The Girl, the Gold Tooth, & Everything.

Excerpt

Angel Mason sat on the edge of her bed and squished the thick caramel carpet between her toes, assurance the deadly grip of another nightmare was gone.

On the nightstand her phone vibrated, startling her. It was Dustin Williams, Chief Superintendent. The time, 6:30 a.m., flashed in red from her clock. She cleared her throat and prayed there was no trace of the bottle of vodka she’d finished off the night before in her voice. “Inspector Angel.”

“Dead body at Galleon Bay.” He never minced words.

“Some tourist die in their sleep?”

“No, looks like she was murdered.”

Brittle silence hung in the air as the words echoed in her mind like a broken record.

“Angel?”

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” she stammered.

“Good, I want this dealt with quickly. There hasn’t been a tourist murdered on the island since…”

“Since Meredith,” she finished for him.

“Yeah, and we remember how that turned out,” he said dryly.

The phone imprinted her hand as she squeezed it. No one had forgotten how it turned out, least of all her—no matter how hard she tried.

“I want you to collect the evidence,” Williams said.

“What? Why?” She didn’t normally question his decisions, but she hadn’t worked in forensics since she had been promoted to inspector.

“You’re the most experienced scene of crime officer we have.”

“I’ll take care of it, sir,” Angel assured him.

“Johnson, Sanchez, and Ebanks are already there controlling the traffic and crowd,” he said, his voice sounding miles away.

“Yes, sir.”

The phone went dead without a goodbye, not that she expected one. He didn’t converse beyond necessity, but she never took it personally. He was like that with everyone.

She went to the bathroom, took out the bottle of painkillers on the second shelf of the cabinet on the wall, and downed two.

As the pills made their way to her queasy stomach, she searched the cloud in her head for how she had gotten to bed last night. Leftover Chinese and drifting to sleep during the nightly news in a vodka-induced haze was all she remembered.

Horrifying screams and blood splattered across her hand paraded before her, remaining trickles from her dream, and the smell of blood filled her nose.

“No!” She gripped the edges of the porcelain sink to steady herself and clear her mind of the images. Her dreams were becoming more frequent and the vivid details lingering long after she awoke.

She let out the breath she was holding and splashed cold water on her face. The reflection in the mirror was an unwanted reminder that she couldn’t escape her heritage or the history that came with it, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Once she showered and got dressed, she pulled her hair into a ponytail. She walked down the short beige corridor to the living room and grabbed her keys off the hook on the wall. The cool morning air blew against her makeup-free face when she opened the door. She inhaled the salty air, and watched the sun peaking over the horizon of the ocean. They calmed her nerves as she made her way down the stairs and to her car. Starting the engine, she pulled out of the parking lot and towards the hotel where Meredith, her mother, had worked before she was arrested for murdering the guests.

 

Author Bio

Elke was born and raised on Grand Cayman and lives there with her husband and two kids who keep her on her toes. She has a sarcastic, quirky sense of humor not everyone gets, and is in a race to become the first Caymanian in space. When not writing, she's helping other writers in Cayman through her organization CayWriters.

Author of For the Love of Jazz and Deadly Bloodlines, book one in her Deadly Series scheduled for release in March 2014.

She stumbled into writing romantic suspense because of her fascination with serial killers, but also writes other genres because characters keep telling her their stories and she's a sucker for a crazy story.

You can connect with Elke:




Goodreads

Buy Deadly Bloodlines!

Amazon
 
Enter to win a copy of Elke’s first book, FOR THE LOVE OF JAZZ, by visiting her website.




 

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Life as a Writer

Being a writer means that every situation, every conversation, every moment, really, can be turned into a plot line. This can be fun, but I'm sure it's annoying for the people I spend time with. I'm listening when my loved ones talk, but I'm also watching how they move, the precise words they choose and what they talk about.

Last night, I went dancing with my very best friend. We've been friends for twenty years, and we both love getting our groove on to old school hip hop. At 40, I can no longer bend and shake the way I used to, but I still love trying.

When we entered the club, the first thing I did was to observe. I sipped my vodka and 7 with a splash of cranberry and took in what everyone was wearing and how they moved around each other. It's fascinating to watch how people want others to see them and what they do when they think no one is looking.

I always have to pee so I also got to listen in on the bathroom conversations and wished I had a notebook to record the amazing conversations and storylines that came from the stalls. "He has, like, a private jet!" Oh, that was a good one.

I do enjoy the moment and had such a great time busting a move with my bestie. But I also love that I can imagine the people around me as characters and be inspired by every glance, smile and scowl.

Is this what everyone does when they leave their house or is it just writers who take such pleasure in people watching?