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Showing posts with label Book tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book tours. Show all posts

Monday, June 29, 2020

Volley by Lynn Michaels


Volley 
by Lynn Michaels 
Genre: M/M Sports Romance 


Can they handle the competition?

Getting down and dirty in the sand is all in a day’s work for pro-volleyball digger, Robby Gilcrest, but a new doubles partner has him competing both on and off the court.

Ace Henderson comes from the wrong side of the tracks and has worked for every success in his life. Why should he think his relationship with Robby would be any different?

But he’s not losing to Morgan. Robby is his, right?

Beach volleyball and fouled emotions will bring them together or tear them apart--right on time for these Olympic hopefuls.

A sweet MM romance with an established couple and plenty of balls.

#sweet heat
#sports romance 





Lynn Michaels lives and writes in Tampa, Florida where the sun is hot and the Sangria is cold. When she's not writing she's kayaking, hanging with her husband, or reading by the pool. Lynn writes Male/Male romance because she believes everyone deserves a happy ending and the dynamics of male characters can be intriguing, vulnerable, and exciting. She has both contemporary and paranormal titles and has been writing since 2014. Her stories don't follow any set guidelines or ideas, but come from her heart and contain love in many forms. 





$10 Amazon 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway! 




False Front by Debbie Baldwin


False Front 
Bishop Security Series Book 1 
by Debbie Baldwin 
Genre: Romantic Suspense 


• a steamy romantic thriller
• a fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat suspense novel
• a timeless romance

Emma Porter is not real. She is an accomplished young woman, living a fulfilling life in New York City, working for an online news agency, and striving toward normalcy. The truth, however, is something else. She was once Emily Webster, a child of privilege, and the twenty-first century Lindbergh Baby. Her high-profile, unexplained abduction and subsequent rescue led to a childhood of paranoia and preparedness, as her kidnapper remained at large and still on the hunt. With her father’s guidance and resources, Emily became Emma Porter, living each day in her new identity, vigilant and unattached. Unattached but for the seemingly unbreakable tether that connects her to the man who, as a young boy, lived next door.

Like Emma, Nathan Bishop is not what he seems. Preparing to helm his family’s defense contracting company, Nathan is better known for his womanizing and reckless behavior than his business acumen. His striking image peppers the pages of society tabloids and police blotters, but beneath the facade of a rake, lurks a warrior. When an arms dealer procures a lethal bioweapon and is rumored to be selling it on U.S. soil, Nathan and his team must use every resource at their disposal to stop the threat.

With danger closing in, fate, once again, puts Emma in Nathan’s path, and the two must determine if the weathered bond between them is enough to find the truth behind their false fronts.

Fans of Nora Roberts, Linda Howard, and Jayne Ann Krentz will love False Front.

Be advised: this story contains scenes of violence equivalent to an R-rated movie and explicit sexual situations. 





Debbie Baldwin is a successful print media and television writer. She is a graduate of Princeton University and the University of Virginia School of Law. 

Debbie and her husband live in Saint Louis, Missouri with their puggle, Pebbles. They have three children in college. False Front is her first novel. 




$100 Amazon gift card 

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway! 




A Glint in Her Ice by Janice Detrie






A Glint in Her Ice

Gaston the Poodle Mystery

Book Two

Janice Detrie


Genre: Cozy Mystery




Publisher: Janice Detrie
Date of Publication: April 7, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-9987342-1-7978-0-9987342-1-7
ASIN:   0998734217
Number of pages: 231
Word Count:  78,683
Cover Artist:  Eric Labacz

Tagline:  Vlad Chomsky invites his new love Beatrice on a romantic river cruise, but his eccentric landlady, Sandra Tooksbury, and her ill-tempered poodle, Gaston, finagle their way on board and embroil him in a jewel heist.

Book Description:

Professor Vlad Chomsky needs a break after saving the town of Crawford, Wisconsin from terrorists, and he knows exactly how to get the rest and relaxation he needs—a romantic Rhine River cruise with the lovely librarian Beatrice Krup.

Vlad imagines sharing his passion for history with Beatrice as they tour the castles, museums, and cathedrals of Germany, while spending warm spring evenings together watching the river glide by—without his ex-wife and kids, and especially without his elderly landlady Sandra Tooksbury, her friend and handyman Norm, and her feisty toy poodle,  Gaston. Yes, Gaston helped Vlad save Crawford, but he doesn’t need a crowd watching—and offering advice—as he takes his relationship to Beatrice “to the next level.”

But Vlad has forgotten Norm and Sandra’s ability to show up just when they aren’t wanted and is dismayed when Sandra hoodwinks her way on board the cruise, Norm and Gaston in tow.

When Norm becomes the prime suspect in a diamond heist, Vlad’s hopes for a quite, romantic cruise are shattered. Will Gaston and the gang discover the real thief in time? And will finally have a chance to “pop the question” to Beatrice?

This is the second adventure of Vlad, Gaston the Poodle, and all of their friends. You can find out more about them in Jan Detrie’s first book, The Seven Ten Split.



Excerpt:



It couldn’t be!”
Vlad exclaimed, and he pushed himself into the crowd. But it was.
Below him,
Sandra Tooksbury in the aged flesh pointed to the crumpled vest adorning Gaston
with bold lettering. The overweight poodle with the dingy white fur wagged his
tail but showed no sign of retreating from the gangplank.
“Can’t you read,
young man? It says ‘Service Dog’ on his harness. This dog is a highly trained
service dog. MY service dog,” she declared. “He accompanies me wherever I go
because of my disability.”
The attendant
grew flushed but said firmly, “Like I said, madam, no dogs are allowed on board
the ship.”
“I was told by
the young man who made my reservation that service dogs were allowed on board
ship.”
“That dog
doesn’t look like any service dog I’ve ever seen,” sneered the older crewmember
manning the gangplank. “He looks like a clown dog escaped from the circus.”
“I’ll have you know,
young man, I’m prone to having seizures, and this service dog warns me and my
traveling companion when I’m about to lose consciousness,” Sandra said
indignantly.
“Your traveling
companion? Who might that be?” asked the crewmember.
Vlad groaned as
Norm pushed his way through the throng bottlenecked at the gangplank and
planted himself next to Sandra, resting his fists on his hips.
“I’m her
traveling companion. I’m trained in first aid procedures, and I know what to do
when her service dog gives the warning,” he declared.
“If that fat
mongrel is a service dog, then I’m Angela Merkel,” snorted the older man.
“You don’t know
who you’re dealing with, sir. I’ve long retired from show business but I still
have friends in high places. You don’t want to tangle with talk show stars.
They’ll smear your cruise line all over the Internet,” Sandra threatened.
“Check me out on YouTube. My dog and I are celebrities.”
Sandra opened
her purse and began rummaging through its contents, scattering used tissues, a
half-eaten Mars bar, and several restaurant receipts on the ground. “Here it
is. The headline story from The New York Times. ‘Dog Brings Down Terrorist.’”
She thrust the
Crawford Daily Gazette in the crewmember’s face.
“Madam, this is
not The New York Times,” he said. “It’s some small-town paper.”
“Don’t you get
smart with me. The New York paper ran the story, too. It was all over the
country. My dog is famous.”
“I don’t dispute
that, madam, but famous or not, I can’t go against the ship’s policy.” said the
man, running a meaty hand through his thinning hair. “I could lose my job.”
“Then I demand
to talk to your captain. You can check with Laurant in reservations. He told me
my service dog was allowed on board with me.”
Just then Vlad
felt a burly man in an immaculate white uniform push past him, captain insignia
gleaming.
“What seems to
be the problem, Seaman Klaus?” he growled.
“This elderly
lady wants to bring her dog on board, and I told her that’s not possible,” his
voice rose to a whine.
“He’s a service
dog, Captain. I need him to warn Norm here when I’m about to have a seizure. I
was informed service dogs are allowed.” Sandra thrust out her chin defiantly.
The captain
scratched his head before he spoke.
“I’ll check with headquarters, madam, if you’ll just step aside and let
the other guests through.” He looked at the disgruntled passengers behind her
and Norm.
Vlad saw Sandra
flick her index finger at Gaston. Immediately, he began to bark loudly. Not
just loud but frenzied barking, so extreme that his body shook, belly fat
undulating like waves on the nearby river. He jumped on Norm, grabbing his pant
leg with his teeth and dragging him close to Sandra.
As if on cue,
Sandra emitted a loud moan. She jerked her head backwards, and her body went
rigid. She toppled like a Northern Pine felled by a lumberjack straight into
Norm’s outstretched arms.
“She’s having
one of her attacks!” Norm shouted. “Stand back. Give her some air.” He gently
lowered her onto the grassy bank alongside the ship and began wildly waving his
Green Bay Packers cap in front of her face.
A lady shrieked,
“Is there a doctor here?”
Gaston’s barks
turned into pitiful howls as he sat on his haunches next to her.
“I’m her
guardian! Let me through!” Vlad exclaimed as he pushed through the crowd and rushed
down the gangplank. He knelt beside her and reached for her wrist. He could see
the blue veins standing out in her frail arm, a tangled network, and felt for
her artery with his fingertips. Her pulse felt strong, and he let out a sigh of
relief.
“She’s had a
mild heart attack before, but her pulse seems all right.” he said to the
captain standing nearby.
Sandra let out
another little moan, and her eyes fluttered open. “Where am I?” she mumbled.
“What happened?” Then she closed them again.
“Ya had another
one of yer spells,’’ Norm said. “But yer all right. Gaston let me know just in
time to catch you.” The dog’s howls changed to a whine as he stuck his head
under her limp hand.
Another moan and
then her blue eyes opened wide. “My goodness, Vlad, is that you?” She struggled
to sit up.
 “What are you doing here? The last thing I
remember is some rude fellow arguing with me about boarding the ship. Then
everything went dark. I must have had a seizure.”
Every eye in the
gathering crowd now turned to the reddening crewmember and glared at him.










About the Author:



Janice Detrie lives in Watertown, Wisconsin, with her husband Michael and her cat who thinks he’s a dog. A former literacy coordinator, her reading tastes are eclectic, everything from biography to mystery to the classics to nonfiction. She enjoys traveling and theater. She has two children and two grandchildren. A Glint in Her Ice is her second book featuring Vlad and Gaston.


https://twitter.com/janicedetrie



https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16622949.Janice_Detrie


Interview with Janice Detrie
Do your characters seem to hijack the story or do you feel like you have the reigns of the story?
My best writing happens when the characters take over the action and I ‘channel’ their thoughts and feelings. Suddenly I’m watching their antics and recording in print the movie in my mind. This leads to some surprising plot twists and interesting character developments.
Convince us why you feel your book is a must read.
Do you want an escape from current reality? My book is guaranteed to make you laugh out loud. Laughter becomes a symbol of hope and one of our greatest needs in life. So my book ranks right up there with hand sanitizer and bathroom tissue.
Have you written any other books that are not published?
Yes. I wrote realistic novel about abuse in a rural setting, a historical fiction about the Pestigo fire in 1871 which killed more people than the Chicago fire, and a juvenile fantasy based on the discovery of the city of Akrotiri buried under volcanic ash on the Greek island of Santorini.
Pen or type writer or computer?
I still keep a journal in which I write in pen, but I write my novels on the computer. It’s so easy to make revisions on a computer and sometimes I need to revise a lot!
Anything you would like to say to your readers and fans?

I hope you enjoy the humanity of my characters, with all their flaws and quirks. Mrs. Tooksbury embodies the indomitable spirit of an elderly woman who doesn't let old age keep her down, like my mom before Alzheimer’s. Vlad’s naiveté leads him into awkward situations but his integrity shines through in this mystery with a message. Who can resist Gaston, a bad tempered dog that’s more perceptive than his humans?


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Beyond the Next Star by Melody Johnson



Beyond the Next Star
Love Beyond Series
Book One
Melody Johnson

Genre: Sci-fi Romance
Publisher: Incendi Press, LLC
Date of Publication: June 23, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-7351499-0-5 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-7351499-1-2 (hardback)

ISBN: 978-1-7351499-2-9 (ebook)

ASIN: B0897S23JN (ebook)

Number of pages: 392
Word Count: 91, 815
Cover Artist: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

Tagline: An intolerable order. A desperate charade. A deadly secret.

Book Description:

“She wasn’t dreaming, in a coma, having a mental breakdown, or in hell.
She was abducted by aliens.”

Before Commander Torek Renaar can return to active duty, he’s ordered to purchase an animal companion to help relieve his PTSD symptoms. But having been a caretaker for and lost a loved one, keeping even one little human alive is a challenge he feels doomed to fail. It doesn’t help that his animal companion is the newest, most exotic breed on the market, demanding constant attention, daily grooming, and delicate handling. If she doesn’t die first in his incompetent care, she’ll be the death of him.

After witnessing the murder of her domestication specialist, Delaney McCormick allows her new owner to treat her like the pet he believes her to be. If anyone suspects she’s more intelligent than a golden retriever, her murder would be next. She endures the humiliation of being washed, the tediousness of being trained to “sit” and “come,” and the intrigue of hearing private conversations. But in Torek’s care, she finds something unexpected on this antarctic planet, something she never had in all her years on Earth while house-hopping between foster families: a home.

As companionship grows to love, must Delaney continue the charade, acting like an animal and hiding from the murderer waiting on her misstep? Or can she trust Torek with her secrets, even if the truth threatens everything he holds dear—and both their lives?






Excerpt:


When the
lorienok abducted Delaney—after she’d finally accepted that she wasn’t
dreaming, in a coma, having a mental breakdown, or in hell—she’d given them a
fake name: Jane Smith. Not an exceptionally creative or unique pseudonym by any
stretch of the imagination, but having come to grips with the fact that she’d
been literally abducted by aliens, her imagination was stretched dangerously
thin. Intergalactic kidnapping wasn’t a chronic illness, but for a time—a
longer time than she was comfortable admitting to now—wasting away had seemed a
preferable fate.
She didn’t
accomplish much by hiding her identity. She didn’t have any blood relatives to
protect, a criminal record to hide, or a trust fund to safeguard. Delaney Rose
McCormick had about as much value associated with her name as did the fictional
Jane Smith and left nearly as small a void on Earth. But all Delaney had in
those early days directly following her abduction was her name and the hope
that everything—the abduction, the tests, the training—was just a big mistake.
Which, as it turned out, it was. Her abduction had been the biggest
technological mistake in lorienok history, but that didn’t change her
circumstances. Days turned to weeks turned to months turned to the abandonment
of tracking time. Hope died. She had nothing to her name, but her name, at
least, was her own, and she would keep it for herself.
By the time her
domestication specialist, Keil Kore’Weidnar, discovered Delaney’s capacity to
learn and taught her Lori, his native language, the issue of her name had
become moot. He’d already renamed her Reshna, a spiral-shaped handheld tool
used to drill into ice. He’d shown her a hologram of it, pointing to the spiral
and then to the wild frizz of her unconditioned curls. They had a
similar-looking tool on Earth, but they used it to open wine bottles. He’d
named her “corkscrew” for her crazy hair.
She’d been
called worse names in high school.
She couldn’t say
she’d lived in worse places, though. Most of her foster families, with the
exception of the Todd household, had been decent people who’d given her
clothes, a bed under a roof, and regular meals. Besides clothes, those basic
necessities were still being met, so a little gratitude was probably in order.
But only just a little, because she also had a cage. And a collar. And if she’d
just translated the words and growls of the pet store manager correctly, she
had a new owner.
Like most lor,
her owner had thick, curved ram horns jutting from his head, and like all
lorienok regardless of gender, he was covered head to toe in brown fur.
Sasquatch did exist after all; he just wasn’t native to Earth. He was roughly
the same size and shape as a human bodybuilder, and in addition to the horns,
his nose and mouth protruded slightly into a blunt muzzle, two rows of sharp
predator teeth filled his overly large mouth, and pointy bearlike claws tipped
each finger and likely each toe on his boot-shod feet.
Unlike most,
this male wore his hair long. His locks were tied back from his face in a messy
bun with a forest-green elastic band. His beard was also long and came to a
point at the end, hanging a few inches below his chin. But his eyes were his
most striking feature, assuming that one had already become accustomed to the
ram horns, claws, abundance of muscle, and close-cropped body fur. His left eye
was the same doe brown common to all lorienok—a smidge rounder and larger than
human eyes, like calf eyes with those thick lashes and soul-deep stare—but his
other eye was ice blue. A thick scar bisected his right brow, eyelid, and upper
cheek, slicing directly over that unique, penetrating gaze.
His bearing was
regal and confident, the sharp cut of his jawline proud, but his eyes betrayed
him. He was sad—horribly sad—and he glowered at Delaney through the wire door
of her cage like he was the Greek king Sisyphus and she his boulder, resigning
himself to an eternity of labor over an impossible, futile undertaking.
Or maybe Delaney
was just projecting because she couldn’t imagine anything more impossible and
futile than her current existence. I am not a pet! she wanted to yell. But
after witnessing Keil’s cold-blooded murder, she knew to keep her mouth firmly
shut. If anyone suspected her more intelligent than a golden retriever, her
death would be next.
Accomplishing
impossible feats while enduring debilitating injury and sensory deprivation
were challenges both expected and anticipated by the young cadets training to
enter the combat and strategic intelligence division of the Federation.
Qualifying exams were brutal. Training was rigorous. But for the few who didn’t
fail, drop out, or obtain an infirmary discharge, the rewards were
astronomical. Torek Lore’Onik Weidnar Kenzo Lesh’Aerai Renaar had certainly
reaped those rewards many times over, as evidenced by the four property titles
bestowed to his name. He’d never been one to flinch when facing a challenge,
but this order—the court-mandated appointment of an animal companion to
“facilitate mental recovery”—was the challenge that finally made him flinch.
Torek stared at
the human—at the beautiful, riotous hair that sprang like coils from its head
and would obviously need continual cleaning and grooming, at its tiny stature
and lean form that probably couldn’t lift its own weight, at the lovely gray
eyes and smooth, bare skin that would need layers upon layers of protective
coverings to keep it warm—and he seriously considered the merits of simply
retiring from the Federation.
No one would
blame him after what had happened. He could return to his home in Aerai and
resume the quiet, peaceful, unappreciated toil of plant cultivation he’d
abandoned so many seasons ago along with his dreams of filling that home with a
family.
The store
manager hefted a bound book from the counter and plopped it into Torek’s
unwilling arms.
“What’s this?” A
tingle of cold dread crept across the back of Torek’s neck.
“Why, it’s your
owner’s manual, of course.”
“Of course.” The
Federation’s policies and procedures manual was the thickest book Torek had
ever had the displeasure of memorizing, and it wasn’t even half the size of
this tome.
“You’ll be the
envy of all Lorien. The first to purchase a human, our newest species. She’s
the pilot for her breed, of course, but her domestication is progressing
fabulously. They dispatched a harvester while she was still in transit, so
until the next shipment arrives, she’s the only human we’ll have for a while
yet, six kair at the least. You must be thrilled.”
As Torek flipped
through a few of the manual’s pages and skimmed the table of contents, the
tingle of dread that had started at his neck devoured the rest of his body and
intensified to nausea. An entire chapter was dedicated to heating and
insulating the human’s living quarters. If her rooms dipped below a specific
temperature—Torek brought the book closer and squinted, but no, his eyes didn’t
deceive him—and the human didn’t have tailored, fur-lined coverings to retain
heat, she would sicken and die. If he didn’t provide her with private sleeping
quarters, she would become lethargic and depressed, then sicken and die. If he
didn’t feed her three meals a day, complete with a cooked protein, vegetables,
and some grain, she would sicken and die. She was even allergic to ukok, a
simple seasoning. If consumed, her throat would swell, cutting off her air
supply, and she would immediately die.
He would kill
her.
Not
intentionally, of course, but despite the wild popularity of owning foreign
domesticated animals, he’d never even owned a zeprak let alone something as
exotic, delicate, and temperamental as this human. She wouldn’t survive a week
in his care.
His throat
tightened. His breath shortened. His chest ached, and suddenly, black
starbursts shadowed his vision.
Not now. Not in
public. Not again.
A loud bang
echoed through the store, startling Torek back to himself. He blinked a few
times, breathing past the panic and reorienting his mind. The store manager was
silent now and staring.
He’d dropped the
owner’s manual.
Torek gathered
the reserves of his iron will. He was not afraid of domesticated animals. He
did not shirk his responsibilities. And he did not flounder. He straightened away
from the store manager, stepped over the dropped manual as if he’d intended to
discard it so carelessly, and eased his fist through the open petting window of
the human’s cage, offering the back of his hand for her to sniff his
acquaintance. He didn’t particularly want to become acquainted—acquaintance
with an animal companion could all too easily flip to a desire for one—but
that’s what a normal, well-adjusted lor not on the brink of hyperventilating
would do.
So, he did it.
The human stared
at his fist, blinking. She glanced up at his face and then back at his fist
before leaning in and brushing her cheek affectionately against his knuckles.
Her skin was newborn-baby soft.
His chest
constricted with renewed panic.
Torek cleared
his throat. “She’s an adult female?”
The store
manager nodded. “Her name is Reshna.”
“Fitting.” Torek
pulled one of those hair coils and watched with amusement as it bounced back
into place when he released it.
Her hair left a
grease spot on his finger pads.
Torek narrowed
his eyes. Her hair, which he’d already noted would require daily maintenance,
needed washing.
“How long has
she been in store for sale?” Torek stroked the side of her jaw with the back of
his knuckle, peeking under her collar as she shied away from his touch. Her
neck was chafed and red.
“She’s been the
joy of this establishment for most of Rorak. Eh, about two-thirds of the
season.”
Torek stared at
the manager, taken aback. “She’s been in this cage that entire time?”
The store
manager’s smile was placating. “I assure you, animal companions thrive here
under my care.”
The skin on her
arms, which had been smooth a few minutes earlier, wrinkled in tiny, raised
spots. A slight tremor shook her body.
“Is she all
right?” Torek’s heart lurched painfully. “I think her collar may be too tight.”
“Hmmm.” The
store manager stooped to pick up the manual, licked his thumb pad, and paged
through it, frowning.
“You’ve had her
this long, and you haven’t memorized her manual?”
The store
manager’s face darkened. “Reshna is the newest, most exotic animal companion we
currently sell. The few who considered purchasing her weren’t willing to invest
in her care after reading the manual. Like most exotic breeds, she isn’t for
just anyone. It takes time to find companions like her a home, and in that
time, I assure you that I’ve cared for her as I do all our animal companions.
As required by her manual.”
Torek might have
apologized for giving offense—he didn’t know the first thing about caring for
exotic animals—except that the few words he’d glimpsed from her manual screamed
at him: adult humans require private sleeping quarters and washrooms complete
with…excruciatingly long bullet list of requirements… Without these necessary
living conditions, the human will sicken and die.
And here she was,
going on nearly all of Rorak in a wire cage so small, she couldn’t rest without
curling in on herself. If she remained here, she would sicken and die.

“I’ll take her.”












About the Author:

Melody Johnson is the author of the “out of this world” Love Beyond series and the gritty, paranormal romance Night Blood series published by Kensington Publishing/ Lyrical Press. The City Beneath (Night Blood, book 1) was a finalist in the “Cleveland Rocks” and “Fool For Love” contests.

Melody graduated magna cum laude from Lycoming College with her B.A. in creative writing and psychology. Throughout college, she wrote contemporary love stories, but having read and adored the action and dark mystery of vampires her whole life, decided to add her fingerprint to the paranormal genre.

Melody's unique perspective on vampires lends fresh bite to a classic paranormal genre. In addition to a reimagined transformation—the requirement of night blood—vampires have gargoyle-looking, vicious day forms, an orgasmic bite, and as the series progresses to Sweet Last Drop (book 2), a mindless, rampaging, zombie-like breed is introduced. Melody is constantly upping the stakes, and Day Reaper (book 4) is no exception.

Beyond the Next Star is an exciting branch from Melody's paranormal romance roots, keeping the dark grit from her Night Blood Series and taking it to new worlds. Told from the dual perspectives of both human pet and alien owner, Melody's story weaves a slow-burn romance that explores the bonds of love in all its forms, navigating the main characters’ relationship in delicate stages from oblivious ownership to woke, romantic love.

After moving from her northeast Pennsylvania hometown for some much needed Southern sunshine, Melody now works as a digital media coordinator for Southeast Georgia Health System’s marketing department. When she isn’t working or writing, Melody can be found swimming at the beach, reading at the pool, and exploring her new home in southeast Georgia.





LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/melody-johnson-20ab7334   

Interview with Melody Johnson
Do your characters seem to hijack the story or do you feel like you have the reigns of the story?
Had you asked me that question last year, I would have said that I was the puppet master. I create the characters, so the decisions they make are a result of the personalities and backstories I’ve given them. Therefore, I hold the reigns. But in the last book I wrote (and am currently editing) I was two-thirds into the story, and my characters were arguing. They were so heated and passionate, and everything they were doing and saying felt right. Yet I couldn’t reconcile why they were reacting so strongly. The heat level of their argument would only have made sense if they’d already had some previous intimacy, a kiss at the least. And that’s when I realized: I’m two-thirds into the book. Of course they’ve kissed! I’d just missed it. And it was there! The scene was already created, the moment was ripe for the taking, but in my original version, the hero resisted his feelings and parted ways without having locked lips. 
In the new version, resistance is futile. 

Convince us why you feel your book is a must read.
Beyond the Next Star is an exciting branch from my paranormal romance roots, keeping the dark grit from my Night Blood Series and taking it to new worlds. Readers are transported to Lorien, a metropolitan Antarctic planet where its inhabitants harvest and sell foreign domesticated animals from other planets. Told from the dual perspectives of both human pet and alien owner, my story weaves a slow-burn romance that explores the bonds of love in all its forms, navigating the main characters’ relationship in delicate stages from oblivious ownership to woke, romantic love. 
Reading and writing romance is my life’s passion, but I’m particularly excited to add my voice to the sci-fi romance genre. This book allowed me to explore the unconventional parameters that constitute home and family, something my heroine was denied in childhood as a foster kid and torn from in adulthood when she’s abducted by aliens. But as she discovers through her adventure on Lorien, a home isn’t built on a foundation of concrete but on love.
Have you written any other books that are not published?
Yes, several actually! The Last First Kiss was the first manuscript I’d ever finished. It’s a small-town contemporary, new adult romance about a female lifeguard who falls in love with her hunky, Scottish supervisor. The Ravioli Con was the second book I’d ever finished, and I say “finished” because there are many more that I’ve started, wrote halfway through, and then never completed! It’s a small-town contemporary adult romance about an ex-pickpocket who gets roped into working one last job for her Italian mobster uncles despite the fact that she’s now married to the town’s chief of police. And Silenced, but I’ll keep the plot of that one to myself. I’m still hopeful I can break it out of the dark void of my computer.

Pen or type writer or computer?
By and large, I use “Notes” on my phone! I write on the go: on lunch at work, in line at the grocery store, in the bathroom, in the passenger seat of the car, on planes, etc. Writing on my phone feels like “fake” writing, relieving the pressure of that dreaded blank page and mocking, blinking curser. Then in the wee hours of the morning before my “day” job, I copy and paste from Notes to my computer, and dedicate my morning to editing word vomit into actual sentences and paragraphs. It’s a system I started because I used to write by hand to get the creative juices flowing, but having to retype everything sabotaged that goal. I’m a fan of efficiency, so having the ability to copy and paste rather than retype is essential to my process.

Anything you would like to say to your readers and fans?
Romance is the greatest passion of my life. No matter the medium—movies, TV, books—I need a central romance and deep, fully-realized characters to enjoy the story. An engrossing plot, spectacular special effects, and spellbinding prose are great, but they are the whip cream on top of my waffle breakfast. Without the main characters and their (hopefully) tension-filled encounters, all you’ve got on the plate is sugar and fluff. No meal. And like most romance readers, I’m ravenous.  
All my reading has taught me valuable lessons about world-building and mood-setting, the delicacies of a romance-based plot, the value of snappy dialog and comic relief, not just for laughs but to deepen character. My favorite authors have shaped both my writing and my life, and I can only hope that my books touch you in a similar way, bridging our differences, finding unexpected commonalities, and healing wounds through love and storytelling. 
Happy reading! 




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