Showing posts with label Romantic Suspense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Romantic Suspense. Show all posts

Monday, October 22, 2018

M. S. Spencer, @msspencerauthor, #Pit&thePassion, #MSSpencerbooks, #Floridafiction



I’d like to welcome M. S. Spencer, author of The Pit and the Passion: Murder at the Ghost Hotel, to my blog today.


RW:    How much of your personality and life experiences are in your writing?

MSS:  A lot! As you can see from my biography, I’ve led a rather eclectic life full of travel & adventure. While every novel I write is fiction, bits of experiences do crop up in them. Lapses of Memory is particularly rife with actual experiences. I figure, this way I don’t have to write my autobiography.

RW:    Tell us about your latest book. What motivated the story? Where did the idea come from? What genre is it? Does it cross over to other genres? If so, what are they?

MSS:  Flotsam & Jetsam: the Amelia Island Affair, is a murder mystery/romantic suspense novel set on Amelia Island, southernmost of the Sea Islands on the Atlantic coast. I went to a book signing event there a couple of years ago and fell in love with the island’s quirky history. It’s been conquered and reconquered by not just countries, but pirates and mercenaries. I wanted to write a contemporary story, but one that draws on that history.

Here’s the blurb:

Who’s littering the park with corpses?

State Park Rangers Simon Ribault and Ellie Ironstone are used to dealing with messy campers and ravaging raccoons, but when three bodies wash up on the beach, they mobilize all their powers of deduction. Who are they and how did they get to the shore of Amelia Island? Are they connected to the secretive League of the Green Cross? Or linked to a mysterious Jamaican drug ring?

Ellie, new to Amelia Island, must penetrate a close-knit community if she wants to find answers to the mystery, all while deciding between two rivals for her affection: Thad, the handsome local idol, and Simon, the clever, quirky bookworm.

Simon, for his part, will have to call on his not-so-well-honed romantic prowess to lure Ellie away from Thad and at the same time use his wide-ranging research skills to solve the case.

RW:    How many books have you written, and how many have been published?

MSS:  Flotsam & Jetsam: the Amelia Island Affair will be released this year. It marks my twelfth published book, all romantic suspense or murder mystery. I wrote one other full manuscript—a murder mystery set in Williamsburg, Virginia—that sat in a drawer for a couple of years until my husband inadvertently (Or not? The jury’s out.) threw it out.

RW:    What book for you has been the easiest to write? The hardest? The most fun?

MSS:  The easiest was probably The Pit & the Passion, released in January. The characters practically wrote themselves and the setting (a grand hotel in ruins that circus man John Ringling built in the 20s) so much fun. I even managed to set a scene or two in my beloved Paris.

The hardest was definitely Flotsam & Jetsam: the Amelia Island Affair, which is due out before the end of this year. That’s the first time I’ve tried a male POV. I had to worry that I was feminizing him too much—plus there are surprising gimmicks I had to ditch—like how to describe the characters. Men usually tell women they have beautiful hair/eyes, etc., thus providing a description for the reader with little effort. But women don’t do that—so how to provide an image of the hero to the reader? We’ll see if it worked.

RW:    Which comes first, the story, the characters, or the setting?

MSS:  I usually like to set a story where I’m setting 😊 but sometimes I get an idea while fiddling around on the internet. I’ll follow research leads until something jumps out. I was reading about John Ringling’s Ghost Hotel—a Ritz-Carlton he started in 1926 and left unfinished for decades when it struck me—what do you find at a ghost hotel? Anyone? The Mason’s Mark: Love & Death in the Tower, is set at the Masonic Memorial and has lots of Masonic intrigue. It came to me when I was reading about a real life renegade Mason with an incredibly flamboyant (& wicked) history.

RW:    Are you in control of your characters or do they control you?

MSS:  Oh, they definitely control me—even to their names. My hero/heroine are literally called “/name/” up until about the third chapter, when they are fully formed little beasts who insist on going their own way. Sometimes they even bring in relatives I didn’t know they had! In Dear Philomena, my Chincoteague mystery romance, Dagne drags her no-good father right onto the page and made me write him in.

RW:    A biography has been written about you. What do you think the title would be in six words or less?

MSS:  Been there, done that.

RW:    If you were stranded on a tropical island, who would it be with? You can choose any living, deceased or mythical figure.

MSS:  Samuel Johnson, definitely. He had an opinion about everything and was the greatest wordsmith ever. I could listen to him for hours. He didn’t mind a dram or two either.

RW:    What’s your most embarrassing moment?

MSS: Hard to choose among so many! But one time—I had my family with me (husband & two young children). We were heading into DC for a victory parade and the subways were packed. Finally, I went full Nike (goddess of Victory, not the shoe) and pushed my way onto the car proclaiming that “I had children with me” as though I expected them to make way for the royal family. I managed to squeeze us in, turned around, and had a full-blown panic attack. In the same stentorian tone I announced that we had to get off RIGHT NOW. I grabbed one child and plowed through the quickly parting sea of people. Once out, I absolutely, positively died of embarrassment. Especially once I realized we were six miles from home. And that I’d left my husband and son on the subway.

RW:    I love pizza with (fill in the blank).

MSS:  Anchovies, bacon, and pickled jalapenos. Don’t argue with me 😊

RW:    Those are all the questions I have for you. Thank you for speaking to me.

THE PIT & THE PASSION:
MURDER AT THE GHOST HOTEL

The Plot

At midnight, in the darkness of a deserted hotel, comes a scream and a splash. Eighty-five years later, workmen uncover a skeleton in an old elevator shaft. Who is it, and how did it get there? To find out, Charity Snow, ace reporter for the Longboat Key Planet, teams up with Rancor Bass, best-selling author. A college ring they find at the dig site may prove to be their best clue.

Although his arrogance nearly exceeds his talent, Charity soon discovers a warm heart beating under Rancor’s handsome exterior. While dealing with a drop-dead gorgeous editor who may or may not be a villain, a publisher with a dark secret, and an irascible forensic specialist, Charity and Rancor unearth an unexpected link to the most famous circus family in the world.

An Excerpt:

That Hot Heavy Feeling

He scratched his neck. “You are no fun at all.”

She smiled with satisfaction. “Good.”

“Because you see, while you with such easy indifference relegate Tommy T to a mundane accident and the benighted Biddlesworth to a watery grave, you haven’t answered the question of my grandfather’s disappearance.”

“Am I supposed to?”

He stopped. An uncertain look passed over his face, catching Charity off guard. “I…I thought we were in this together?”

A feeling she couldn’t name rushed through her, one that filled every pore with a heavy sort of heat. It weighed her down, made her sluggish. Time slowed. She watched with vague interest as her knees buckled, and the floor rushed toward her. Just before she smacked into it, two strong arms caught her, lifted her up, and held her in a crushing grip. “Charity? Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes. Oh, Rancor.” After that she couldn’t talk because her lips were smashed against his and her chest against his and she couldn’t breathe at all, but she didn’t really need to because he was breathing for the both of them.

A while later, they sat down on the couch. Rancor traced her cheek with his finger, his eyes wondering. Charity felt at peace. She had recognized the hot, heavy feeling and accepted it. Now to explain it to Rancor.

“Rancor? I—”

The phone rang.

M. S. Spencer

Bio

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five continents, the last thirty years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. She has two fabulous grown children and a perfect granddaughter. Ms. Spencer has published twelve romantic suspense/murder mystery novels, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Book Links:








Contact M. S. Spencer At:








Author Pages

The Wild Rose Press:

Amazon Author Page:

Monday, August 20, 2018

Janna Kincaid, Targeted, by Beverley Bateman, @kelownawriter, #contemporarywestern, #romanticsuspense, #Hawkinsranchseries




RW:    What’s your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about you?

JK:      I think I’m pretty normal. I work as a TV producer, and have a very successful, single life, but I have just inherited a ranch in Duster. I don’t want to go back to the town I was raised in, or the man I briefly married. I’m conflicted between the good memories and the bad ones of living there. But I have to go back to sign all the papers, even if I sell it. And then I have to figure out if I want the non-stop, stressful life in Seattle or the more relaxed family life with lots of support. Oh, and someone is trying to kill me.

RW:    What problems do you have to face and overcome in your life?

JK:      Right now, where do I start? I love the ranch and now I’m back I’m not sure I want to sell it. I spent a lot of my childhood there and have wonderful memories of it. I don’t want children, but I seem to have inherited a child and a dog. They’re now living with me on the ranch, and my mother is also staying there. And I love having everyone living with me. It won’t happen if I move back to Seattle. I’m still attracted to my ex-husband and I don’t want to be, because he wants to take care of me and I want to be independent. Oh, and someone is still trying to kill me for the ranch.

RW:    Do you expect your hero/ine to help or is s/he the problem?

JK:     He’s part of the problem. I married him once because I loved him but left and ran away. He never understood why I left, but he’s working so hard to understand now. And every time I have a problem he’s there to help me or save me from a killer.

RW:    Where do you live?

JK:     I live in Seattle, but I’ve inherited a ranch in Duster, Montana

RW:    During what time-period does your story take place?

JK:     The Present.

RW:    How are you coping with the conflict in your life?

JK:     Not very well, I’m afraid. It’s a little overwhelming. I’m taking one issue at a time, facing it and making a decision that I think works. It’s a slow process but I have most of the book to resolve everything—and survive.

RW:  Bubble baths or steamy showers? Ocean or mountains? Puppies or kittens? Chocolate or caramel?

JK:     Steamy showers, mountains, puppies and definitely chocolate.

RW:    If you came with a warning label, what would it say?

JK:     Touch carefully, can be prickly


RW:    Hunky heroes or average Joe?

JK:     Average Joe

RW:    Party life or quiet dinner for two?

JK:     Quiet dinner for two, by candlelight.

RW:    Those are all the questions I have for you. Thank you for speaking to me.

JK:     Thank you for having me.

Beverley Bateman

Bio

Murder, mystery and romance fills award-winning, Canadian author, Beverley Bateman’s life. She loves to plot, kill and hopefully baffle the reader. Her nursing and public health nursing background helps with some details and administering a community care facility program had her investigating and directing investigations into irregularities and sometimes death. She even has court experience.

She began writing in her preteens and loved to write locked room mysteries. Reading Nancy Drew helped her figure out plots. Facing breast cancer, she decided she needed to do what she’d always wanted and began to write. She completed her first romantic suspense novel and hasn’t stopped writing since. She recently moved and now lives among ranches and wheat fields in southern Alberta, with her husband and Shiba Inu dog.

Targeted
Hawkins Ranch Series—Kye’s Story

The Plot

After an eleven year absence Janna Kincaid inherits a ranch and is forced to return to a town she only remembers with unhappiness, a man to whom she was briefly married and never wants to see again, and someone is trying to kill her.

Kye Hawkins has loved Janna since he first met her. They were married, but a few weeks later she ran away without an explanation. He still hasn’t figured out why. Now she’s coming back. Does she still love him? Can he rekindle the romance and also prevent her from being killed?

Janna doesn’t want Kye’s help in any way, yet he always seems to be there when she’s in trouble. Can they work together to find a killer, save the Native burial ground and home of the spirits, and find romance again?

An Excerpt:

Someone had shot her back tire. Janna gripped the wheel to keep the vehicle on the road. She debated whether to try and outrun the shooter, wherever he was, or find cover. The windshield shattered as a third bullet entered the passenger side.

So much for outrunning the shooter.

She scanned the area and spotted an outcropping of rocks a few feet ahead on her right. She aimed the vehicle in that direction.

Two more shots, and both the back tires went down.

Definitely find cover.

Janna ducked low behind the steering wheel until the vehicle reached the rocks. When the car stopped, she grabbed the keys from the ignition and her purse and dove out the door. Bullets bounced off the rocks behind her as she scrambled for cover. Whoever was doing the shooting was serous. Anyone of the shots could have hit her.

She reached the rocks, keeping low until she got to the middle where she curled up as tightly as possible, her back against a rock. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breathing came in gasps. This was getting to be a habit. First someone tried to kill her in Seattle, and now, out in this god-forsaken country.

What the hell is going on? Why are they shooting at me? Was it the same person who shot at me in Seattle? That doesn’t seem likely, but who even knew I was coming here? Maybe it’s someone just trying to rob a stranger.

Yeah right, be honest, Janna, does this road look like many strangers came this way? And if they did, would they have a lot to steal? You really think this person selected a spot in the rocks where he would have a good shot at my vehicle. Coincidence? Not damn likely.

At least she’d worn boots and jeans—even if they were designer jeans. Now they were filthy, and so was her red sweater and jean jacket.

Another shot hit the rock behind her. She rolled over onto her stomach, shaded her eyes, and squinted into the sun. He must be up on the cliffs straight ahead. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she might have glimpsed a light, maybe a reflection off his scope.

Terrific! Now what? My gun is in my purse. I could fire back, but that would be a waste of bullets at this distance.

She yanked out her cell and punched in 9-1-1.

Damn—no reception.

A pounding pulsed through the ground and came closer. Janna could feel the vibrations. It felt like horses. She glanced around, without raising her head, to see what was coming.

Suddenly there was a hand in front of her face.

“Grab it and jump on.”

The deep, rumbling voice was not asking. It was an order.

Janna grabbed the strong hand. In one smooth motion, she swung up behind a man on his horse. Seconds later, she had her hands wrapped around his well-developed, muscular chest, as the big chestnut thundered across the ground, out of the bullets’ range.

The man wore a leather jacket over a sweater. Her hands slid under the jacket for better grip. Even through the sweater she could feel sinewy muscles. She laid her head against his back and his braid. She took a breath in, inhaling the rich scent of leather, trying to calm her racing heart rate.

She glanced behind her. The cliffs were fading into the distance. The muscles of his well-developed shoulders bunched and relaxed as he led the horse at a gallop across the field. She felt safe for some unfathomable reason.

He had a familiar woodsy scent that made her think of sex under pine trees, not that she’d ever made love there. In fact, her sex life was pretty negligible these days.

They’d been riding for several minutes when Janna leaned forward. “You can put me down any place. I can manage now.”

“Really? And just what are you going to do out here, miles from town, by yourself, with someone shooting at you?”

The voice was deep, but soft, and rolled over her like warmed brandy. It triggered something in the back of her memory. The earthy scent, the sinewy body, the braid, the voice… She knew this person who had ridden up out of nowhere to save her.

“I have my cell. I’ve already called 9-1-1,” she snapped.

“And did you get an answer?”

Janna yanked her cell phone up where she could see the screen again and re-tapped in 9-1-1. And then there was that famous phrase—No Service.

There was a deep chuckle. “That’s what I thought. There’s no service in this area. The mountains block it.”

Contact Beverley At:


Book Links: