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DRAWING NOVEMBER 15, 2023 - WINNERS CHOICE OF ONE OF THESE BASKETS

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California Dreamin'

 

                                             Please click this link for book and author information

Calgary's first snowfall of the season has got me dreaming about my holiday in California this September. The main purpose for the trip was to attend Bouchercon World Mystery Convention in San Diego. My husband Will (an avid mystery reader) and I spent four interesting days attending panels and events like Speed Dating for Writers and Readers and the New Author Breakfast. Both were more fun than I'd expected and popular enough to fill the large rooms by 7:00 am. When we weren't occupied with the convention, we enjoyed the views from our hotel in the San Diego Marina. 

At night we watched airplanes fly over the farther buildings to land at the airport 

After the convention, we stayed an extra day in San Diego to see a little more of the city. We walked along the boardwalk and took the short ferry ride to Coronado Island, an upscale vacation beach community. The highlight was a concert in the park featuring a great cover band. Hundreds of people gathered. Since we didn't have chairs, we stood at the front and danced to songs like "Witchy Woman" and "One of These Nights" made famous by the Eagles.     

Marina boardwalk "Kissing Statue" designed from the iconic Life Magazine 1945 photograph

From San Diego, we drove to Julian, a "hippie" town located in the apple-growing hills east of the city. In addition to exploring the quirky, historic former gold mining town, we gorged on apple pie - arguably the best I've ever had. A half dozen bakeries produce pies for tourists, many of them day-trippers from San Diego. 

Picnic lunch near Julian

 

Julian main street

       We included a drive to the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, but it was way too hot for a long hike. 

We wrapped up our California holiday with four nights in Oceanside for beach time, a coastal hike, and watching surfers. On the way we stopped at a winery with sweeping views. 

    Sunshine, warmth, ocean, books, wine, apple pie -- pretty much a perfect trip!  

 

Random Acts of Kindness - Barbara Baker

 

It happened while I was camping at Peter Lougheed Provincial Park in Alberta. Tucked away in Kananaskis Country, the park’s wilderness area only has cellphone reception at the secluded Park’s Visitor Centre. To log into their WiFi when the office is closed, you need to stand at the entrance door, stick your tongue out the side of your mouth and hold your phone in the air. Chances of a strong signal are better when few people are around.

 

I know, I’m in the wilderness - why do I need reception? Well, with an elderly dad, I check in every evening to make sure he’s okay.

Before supper, I drive down to the visitor centre. The parking lot is empty. Great. I’ll be able to send and receive the text and get back to the campsite in record time.

Leaning against the locked door, I see three bars on my phone. Perfect. I send my text, wait a few minutes, receive the message … all is well. I tuck my phone in my pocket and walk back to my car. Just as I reach the edge of the sidewalk a noisy, rusty car screeches to a stop in front of me. I glance around. Where the heck did they come from? And why so fast?

The front passenger window rolls down and a gal with piercings in her lip and nostril shouts, “Get in the car.”

I check around. No one. Anywhere. I bend down to talk to her but keep my distance from the open window. The driver (maybe the mom) waves a cigarette in one hand while the other hand wrestles to grab the collar of a barking, giant mutt who’s trying to jump into the front seats.

“Seriously, get in the car,” the gal with the piercings shouts again.

I shake my head slowly. I’m not rude but I’m also not the kind of person to jump into a stranger's car just because they tell me to. The driver yells at the dog to sit. The dog sits but continues to bark.

“There’s a bear.” The gal points towards my car. “He’s big.”

 

My eyes follow her pointing finger. Sure enough, a bear walks by my car and towards us. To hell with caution, I grab the back passenger door handle and ask, “Will he bite?”

“Of course not.” Her arm pushes the dog over.

I get into the backseat, close the door and press against it. The dog stops barking and stares at me. Would being chased by a bear be less intimidating? The dog leans over. And licks my cheek. Okay, that is better than dealing with a bear. 

The driver points out the window and says, “Is that your car?”

“Yup.” It sure didn’t seem that far away when I parked it.

Their car moves towards mine while we watch the bear watch us. As we get closer it saunters towards the edge of the pavement. The driver parks so my exit door is beside my driver door. I pull out my fob, unlock the door and glance at the bear.

“Thank you so much.” I pat their shoulders and give the dog a good scratch. “You saved my ass.”

“Okay. He’s moving away,” the driver says. “Go.”

I open the door, careful not to scratch my car, and take a big breath. One. Two. Three. I shut their door (a bit too hard), take the two steps to mine, jump in and slam my door (equally hard). The bear looks up and tips his head side to side.

The gal with the piercings rolls down her window, smiles and waves. I wave back and they drive away.

I look up through my car’s sunroof and whisper, “Thank you.”

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

 

Coffee or Tea? I Drink Disappointment and Nanowrimo by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

    

Picture this: a group of passionate writers, fueled by caffeine and a slightly concerning amount of determination, gathered in a room like a coven of literary wizards.

I can't...

Okay... well, that's fair. It's Nanowrimo month after all, but let me tell you, there's a lot more magic involved in writing than you might think. Our wands are laptops! Our potions are bottomless mugs of coffee!

But can we talk about muses for a second? You know, those elusive creatures writers chase like Pokémon, hoping for a spark of divine inspiration. Some days, your muse is a relentless chatterbox, bombarding you with ideas at 3 AM when you're halfway between dreamland and your pillow, and other times its a silent fart, stagnating and dreadful and stanky. No one knows you're stewing in lack of ideas, but they can smell it all the same.

Luckily that hasn't been me. October was filled with plenty of workshops (some that I conducted for cold hard CASH!) radio interviews, book fairs and markets. I've chosen to ignore Nanowrimo this year, only because I really just don't want to do it. If you don't know what Nano is (us pros call it nano because we can't be effed to say all the letters despite the fact we are scribes) It's a monthly writer thing in November where you're supposed to write 50k words.

If you do it, good for you! It's hard. If you don't... well, I don't blame you. Most of the time I go in strong, but end up sitting in a lack of smelly and silent inspiration by the end of it. It is good for getting words out on paper though, and some people thrive on deadlines. I, however, like to procrastinate...

What about you? Do you do nano? Do you know what nano is? What's your choice of beverage when working? Coffee? Tea? ... ... ...Water?

Does anyone still drink water these days? When its not mixed with beans... sugar and cream? If so well then good for you! I bet you probably think you're better than me, huh?

100 percent.

Military Spouse by J. S. Marlo

Misguided Honor

Ghostly Murder Mystery on a Canadian military base

 Click here to buy

 

  

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

Nov 11 is a special day, a day to remember the brave men and women who served in the military and gave their lives for their country. In Canada, it is called Remembrance Day, also known as Poppy Day.

As we honour the ones who never came back home, let's not forget the ones they loved and left behind in the name of duty. This poem is for them.

The Silent Ranks

I wear no uniforms, no blues or greens,
But I am in the military, in the ranks rarely seen.
I have no rank upon my shoulders. Salutes I do not give.
But in the military world is where I live.
I am not in the chain of command, orders I do not give or get.
But my husband/wife is the one who does, this I can never forget.
I am not the one who fires a weapon, who puts his/her life on the line.
But my job is just as tough. I am the one who is always left behind.
My husband/wife is the patriot, the brave and proud man/woman in uniform.
Not all can understand the call to serve one’s country.
Behind the lines I see things needed to keep this country free.
My husband/wife makes the sacrifice, but so do our families.
I love the man/woman I married. The military is his/her life. 
So I pledge to support my hero and stand among the silent ranks known as
The Military Spouse

The poem was originally written by an unknown military wife, a woman very much like me, and was signed The military Wife. I took the liberty to adapt it to both military wife and husband.

Let's never forget the sacrifices made by so many to keep our country free.

J.S.

 

J. S. Marlo's Website 

Magical Lights by Eileen O'Finlan

 

                          

                                               Click here for purchase information

Have you ever felt as though you had just walked into the pages of a fantasy or science fiction book? I had that sensation recently. I'm a member of the New England Botanic Garden at Tower Hill in the nearby town of Boylston, Massachusetts. Every year starting around Thanksgiving and ending on last day of December they have an amazing light display called Night Lights throughout the grounds. This year was the first time I've had an opportunity to see it. It was more than worth the price of admission.

After leaving the ticket center, visitors are greeted with this:

How could you not feel like you had just stepped into a magical realm?

As visitors progress along the pathways, the sights become even more spectacular and the feeling that you are no longer in your own world increases. Perhaps you've entered a fairy land? Narnia? Hogwarts? Or, maybe you've left the planet completely:

Taking your eyes off the lights long enough to look at other visitors, you can see your own expression reflected in theirs - eyes wide in wonder, mouth smiling or agape when the next tableau takes your breath away.

A stunning experience, it must be especially transportive to those of a creative nature. Fantasy and science fiction authors could surely find unending inspiration here. 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!

It's NaNoWriMo Time Again! by Eileen O'Finlan

 

Click here for purchase information

November is here which means I am now seven days into this year's NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). My goal this year is to write 50,000 words of the first draft of Book 2 in the Cat Tales series, tentatively titled All in the Furry Family.

This is my third time doing NaNo. It's a fun, motivating, supportive, and very large group (about half a million writers worldwide take part) that comes together every November to write our hearts out. Some folks have even been known to write an entire novel in that one month! At least a first draft, anyway. I have no delusions about accomplishing that feat, but I do depend on it to get a huge chunk of the first draft done. 

Each day participants log the number of words written and the site keeps track of the total, marking important milestones along the way. For me, it's a great way to hold myself accountable and track my progress.

There are ways to connect with other writers (the ever-important networking!) for inspiration and a little cheerleading. Joining the postcard group gets the month kicked off right by sending and receiving encouraging postcards to and from other participants. There are also ways to connect with other participants online.

I've even found out that there will be some in-person write-ins happening at a library in a nearby town. Perhaps I will try joining in to meet some other local writers and soak up the writerly vibe. Or maybe, I'll see if my own town's library would like to become a write-in location. 

You don't have to go anywhere, though. Writing from home or where ever is fine. It's all about the writing. Getting words down on paper or up on the screen is what counts. This isn't the time to finesse. That's for later after the first draft is done. But what a huge step it is in the process from idea to finished book.

I am hoping to get the second Cat Tales book out before the end of 2024, so fingers crossed that NaNoWriMo gives me a huge boost in making that happen.

Click here for Purchase information

Good Food and Good Reading

 

purchase at https://books2read/Prelude-and-Promises

Now that November is here, I begin thinking of holiday meals and can’t wait to fix such favorites as honey glazed ham, cherry salad, turkey and stuffing, sweet potatoes and all the desserts we’re always too full to appreciate until later. In fact, I was just talking to my son today about what salads and bread he wanted. What is your favorite holiday food? He said I needed to make bulgur wheat bread, for sure.

As a writer, I’m sometimes surprised when reading my rough draft because the question occurs to me, “did they eat?” I write romance, so I pay the most attention to my characters and their relationships, and I sometimes forget they need to eat and dress and go about daily business. These things add detail to the story and make the characters more “alive”, especially if one of them has an aversion or allergy to a food or has a particular way of dressing. However, details such as this are normally background and shouldn’t take over the story. (Example: have you ever read a story with page after page of furniture description and you find yourself skipping over it?)

Once in a while, though, food and/or eating play a fun part of the story, such as in my contemporary novel “Prelude and Promises”. A restaurant--Brenda Kay’s -- is the site for several conversations between Cheyenne and Jake, so while it is story background, it also gives insight into the characters and their budding relationship. To give you an idea of how I use this in my story, here is the cover blurb and some excerpts at Brenda Kay’s.

Blurb:

            Pianist Joseph Donovan was tired of his uncle’s interference in his career. In fact, he was tired of his career, even if it had made him a millionaire. The concerts, recording sessions, and pressure to compose new musical arrangements meant he never had a minute to himself. He left it all behind, using his given name of Jake Smith to hide out on Lockabee Island, trying to be just an ordnary guy. And that worked very well, until his uncle’s executive secretary came looking for him, issuing an ultimatum and deadline for his return home. In the process of negotiating his “capture”, he found himself fascinated with her. More surprising was that the passion he felt inspired him to start composing again.

            Cheyenne knew Jake resented her presence on the island at first, but he soon sparked a passion that made her forget why she was there. When she discovered the real reason for his leaving Chicago, did she still want to convince him to return? As the days and nights swirled together in a symphony of passion, she was torn between her responsibilities to her employer and what her heart desired. If she had to return to Chicago without him, could she survive the heartbreak?

Excerpt 1: (He ran away when she found him and now he is trying to apologize)

“I’ll tell you what you want to know if you’ll have lunch with me.”

“It’s three in the afternoon. That’s too late for lunch.”

“Well, I haven’t eaten.” He put a hand to the small of her back and gently guided her into the restaurant they were passing, which was Brenda Kay’s, his favorite place to eat. She didn’t resist, which he took as a good sign.

Brenda Kay came over to wait on them as he slid into a booth opposite Cheyenne. She was a nice looking, middle-aged woman and had a friendly, outgoing manner. Jake had liked her from the first time they met.

“Hello there, Jake. Ever get that boat of yours running? Harvey thinks he’s ready to go fishing.” Harvey, her husband, had health problems, which was one of the reasons they had retired and moved to the island.

“It puttered clear across the sound today,” he said. “Old Hank wants to fish, too. Maybe I should start a fishing service. Might be able to make myself some money.”

He heard Cheyenne give a choking sound and turned her way, narrowing his gaze. He didn’t think she would give him away, but you never knew what went on in a woman’s mind.

“This is Cheyenne, a…friend of mine. We’ll have the fish and chips.”

“Excuse me, but I think I can order for myself.” She turned to Brenda Kay. “May I see a menu, please?”

Brenda raised a brow at Jake as though wondering where he had found her. He grinned and winked.

“You must be a tourist,” Brenda Kay said as she pointed to a chalkboard above the bar, which contained only three items—hamburgers, barbeque ribs, and fish and chips.

Cheyenne sighed. “Fish and chips will be fine, and whatever light beer you have.”

Jake was sure the surprise showed on his face. He was beginning to understand that the woman sitting across from him was extremely complex, and thought it might be fun to try and unravel and peel away the layers.

To begin with, he couldn’t let her out drink him. “One for me, too, Brenda, but not the light.”

She didn’t say anything until their beers arrived. She took a sip, set it down and stared at him across the table. He had never realized how blue her eyes were; light in the center with dark rims. They were framed by dark lashes.

“Ok. You’ve got me here, now talk.”

“We keep having the same conversation. You tell me why you’re so dedicated to my uncle that you would fly half way across the country to find me.”

“It’s my job, and unlike some people, I take my responsibilities seriously.”

“I have always taken my responsibilities seriously; until I decided enough was enough. Everyone’s entitled to change jobs.”

She sat with her mouth pinched as a waitress brought their food and another round of beers.

“May I have silverware, please?”

“You don’t need it and we don’t have it,” the young girl said. “Nothing served requires it.”

“Are you serious?” She gingerly fingered the brown paper wrap which crinkled as she opened it.

“It soaks up the grease,” Jake told her. “Enjoy.” He tipped his beer bottle toward her in salute.

He bit into a piece of the crisply fried fish and watched her eye the battered fish and golden French fries. She probably never ate fried food. Finally with a sigh she picked delicately at the fish.

“It is flaky and tender,” she admitted.

“Brenda Kay’s is the best around.”

“Sans silverware,” she retorted with a laugh, picking up a piece of fish and finally eating. She licked her fingers free of tartar sauce.

Jake watched her tongue snake out and everything in him tightened. 

Excerpt 2: Cheyenne has found it hard to maintain a professional demeanor around Jake, thus causing a bar fight and a night in jail:

Cheyenne took a last glance in the mirror before heading downstairs when Jake texted that he was waiting. The floral sundress she had purchased fit snuggly across her breasts and flared from the waist to end just below her knees. Her heels didn’t seem quite appropriate so she settled on sandals. She would have worn her linen slacks and cashmere sweater but after his comment about her clothes, she had decided to dress casually. The bright red, blue and yellow flowers suited her, she thought, as she touched up her lipstick, this time a pale pink shade.

She was glad for the sandals when he insisted they walk. She was happy to be casually dressed when he turned into Brenda Kay’s.

“Again?” she asked as they slid into a booth near the back.

“It’s rib night,” he said in explanation as Brenda came to the table.

“Well if you don’t look a sight.” She set water glasses on the table. “Heard there was a ruckus at the Pelican. Damn it, the one night I didn’t get down there, but it was too busy for me to get away.”

“You didn’t miss much,” Jake said and Cheyenne coughed.

Brenda looked at her and back to Jake’s bandaged hand. “I can see that. How are you going to eat ribs with a broken hand?”

“Carefully.” He smiled, then grimaced and touched his bruised cheek.

Cheyenne was surprised by his good nature. Granted, he hadn’t spent the night in jail, but he had been injured and she didn’t know if he had gotten any more sleep than she had. He sported his wounds like a banner, almost as though he were proud of the fight he had been in.

She could only shake her head and shrug when Brenda looked back at her.

“Beer?” she asked.

Cheyenne shook her head again. “Not for me. I’ll stick with water.”

Jake laughed lightly and ordered a soda.

While they waited for their meal, which Cheyenne assumed was ribs whether she had ordered them or not, she studied Jake more closely. The split in his lip looked better, but she could see the fingers on his right hand were slightly swollen. She reached over to lightly touch the scabbed knuckles.

“Does it hurt badly?” She felt so guilty at having caused him injury.

“Cheyenne?” He didn’t say any more until she raised her gaze to his. His brown eyes were intense, his smile gentle. “None of this,” he gestured with his other hand, “was your fault.”

“But I—”

“You were being accosted. Every other man in the bar would have done the same thing. I simply got there first.” Irrationally, she heard pride in his voice.

“Your hands are your life, you idiot,” she said without thinking, but he only smiled wider.

“You have no idea what I am capable of with only one hand,” he whispered across the table and she could feel a blush rising. Honestly, she had never blushed so much in her life until she encountered him.

“Whatever are you thinking, Miss Tucker?” he teased. “I might have simply been implying I was ambidextrous.”

She changed the topic instead of bothering to comment. “Tell me what happened after I was hauled off to the slammer.”

Their ribs arrived, served up on brown paper as had the fish and chips. The waitress set down a pile of napkins, refilled her water and took Jake’s glass to get him another soda. Jake waited until she left before answering her.

“The excitement was over by the time I came to.”

She gasped. “You were knocked out completely? Damn it, I told the sheriff to let me see to you, but he hauled me off like a common criminal.”

He grinned as he picked up a rib. “Well, actually…”

“You know what I mean.” She looked at the pile of ribs, wished for silverware, then with a sigh, picked up the sauce-slathered meat and took a bite. A moan of pleasure escaped. They ate in silence for several minutes. When the waitress brought another serving of ribs, Cheyenne looked at her in surprise.

“All you can eat,” she replied as she set that down along with Jake’s soda.

“One serving is all I can eat,” she said.

Once again, Jake was silent as he cleaned off rib after rib, licking his fingers in-between bites. By the time he was done, he had barbeque sauce smeared all over his bandage as well as his mouth.

She bit her lower lip as he licked sauce off his lips.   

Excerpt 3: Things are getting serious!

Her phone pinged.

Jake: Have dinner with me tonight.

Cheyenne: Come back to Chicago with me.

Jake: It wasn’t meant to be a negotiation. L

Cheyenne: I had to try. ;)

Jake: Please have dinner with me?

Cheyenne: Can we go somewhere that has silverware?

Jake: J See you at eight.

 

To find out whether Cheyenne can entice Jake to return to Chicago, get your copy of “Prelude and Promises” in print or eBook today at: https://books2read.com/Prelude-and-Promises.

Being thankful, today and always,

Barb

http://www.authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin

https://bookswelove.net/baldwin-barbara/

PS – If you’re in the mood to start your holiday reading, “Snowflakes and Kisses” my Christmas novel, is on sale in eBook format at Amazon! Amazon.com: Snowflakes and Kisses eBook : Baldwin, Barbara: Kindle Store.