Virtual Book Tour: Rie McGaha

Again today The Cozy Page and Goddess Fish Promotions brings you a fun glimpse into a virtual book tour: Rie McGaha's romantic suspense, Closure. Be sure to read the entire post to see how you could win a Rie McGaha Writing Tablet. Take it away, Rie:

Thanksgiving is just a few weeks away and I've begun preparing my shopping list, menu, and decorations. I love the holiday season, which for me begins at Halloween and ends on January 1st. For many years Halloween hasn't been included because my kids had all grown up and the haunted house we did every year when they were young no longer held their interest. But now I live in a multi-generational home, so I have grandkids I can decorate for.

I have been big on decorations for each season, and each holiday, including Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, etc. but of course, the big holidays are Thanksgiving and Christmas. For Thanksgiving I love to decorate with small pumpkins, gourds, fall leaves, scarecrows and color coordinated tablecloths, table runners, placemats and dishes. My daughter, Lisa is awesome when it comes to decorating and I am happy to turn that part over to her because the cooking is on me. This is the area where I excel.

Since Thanksgiving is all about the food, I begin a day or two before, depending on how many of the kids are coming home for turkey day. I try to make everyone their favorite food, which generally includes many pumpkin pies, lemon icebox pies, pecan pies, banana cream pies, coconut cream pies, fudge, Toll House cookies, pumpkin rolls, maple bars, and cinnamon rolls. The dessert bar is always a big hit. And then there's the Thanksgiving meal.

While I try to make most of the dessert beforehand, I begin making the Thanksgiving meal very early. There is the usual fare: green beans with almonds, corn pudding, fresh baked bread and dinner rolls, macaroni salad, potato salad, cornbread stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, yams with pecans and marshmallows, and the coup de gras, Tuxedo Turkey. Yep, our turkey wears a tux when he's presented at the dinner table.

Giving the turkey a tux was something I began when my children were small. Back then there was little money but I like to do things for my kids to surprise them and give them memories they would have later on. I made the tux our of pie crust dough, cut our buttons, pockets, and a bow tie, which I colored with food coloring. Mr. Turkey usually has a white tux (plain dough), a red bow tie, and black button and pockets. I pull the turkey out of the oven about ten minutes before he's finished cooking and arrange the tux on him. Then he's popped back in the oven to bake the tux. My kids and grandkids love Tuxedo Turkey. One year I decided since everyone was grown there was no reason to make the tux, and I never heard so much complaining, so the turkey gets his tux!

My memories of when my children were young are very special to me, and now that I have grandchildren, the memories are even more special. There is nothing like watching my children with their children. The memories we are making now are ones I hope will be my grandchildren's memories of me that they will share with their children when I am no longer here. The holidays are a sentimental time for me but also a tiring time. As much as I love them, I am always relieved when they are over so I can rest up for next year!

High in the hills above Albuquerque, New Mexico Detective Zachariah Ellison arrives at the scene of a murder, and not just any murder, but one that definitely falls into the “gruesome” category even for a seasoned cop like Zach. When another body is found murdered in much the same fashion, Zach knows he’s got a serial killer on his hands, and to top it off he’s got an assistant district attorney hounding him about the case. As Zach tries to investigate the crimes while sidestepping nosey Amy Logan, a third body is found and Zach hasn’t a clue as to whom the perpetrator might be.

Amy Logan has worked hard to put herself through school and pay for law school on her own and now that she’s secured a position as assistant district attorney in Albuquerque, she’s determined to do everything she can to be the best prosecutor this office has ever seen. And as if luck was following her, she’s been assigned to the biggest homicide case the city has ever seen. The only problem she’s having is the homicide detective who’s leading the investigation—Zach Ellison.

Click here to purchase your copy of Closure today or visit Rie at her website to learn more. By commenting to this post, you will be entered to win a Rie McGaha Writing Tablet. By commenting at every stop on Rie's virtual book tour, your chances of winning increase so be sure to stop by Goddess Fish Promotions for a complete tour schedule. In the meantime, enjoy this excerpt from Closure....

She tilted her head back, looked up at him, felt her heart thud in her chest, and then his mouth was on hers and she was climbing all over him. All those years alone, all those nights of wishing she had someone to hold her, all those weeks working with Zach. The wanting of him, the needing of him, the denying of what she had been feeling—it all came pouring out of her at that moment of contact.

Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers worked furiously through his hair, over his shoulders, kneading his neck. She could feel his hands on her face, his fingers burning into her skin, his lips sizzling against hers as his tongue probed deep inside her mouth, encouraging her to take more of him, to give more to him.

She couldn't think for the blood pounding in her head, couldn't breathe because her breath had caught in her chest.

She could only feel. She could feel his hands moving from her face, trailing down her neck, felt them move over her shoulders and down her back. She could feel her body pressed against his, and then was suddenly very aware of the size of her breasts, aware that they were crushed against him. She had never been so aware of her own body in her life, had never been so aware of another person.

Then he was pulling away from her, took a step back from her, and dropped his hands to his sides. He was panting, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

They stood there looking at each other for a long moment, neither speaking. Zach raked his hands through his hair, took a deep breath and blew it out. He stepped toward her, took her hands in his and brought them both to his mouth, and kissed them gently.

“I—” He paused and took another breath. “I haven't been with a woman since my wife died. I haven't wanted a woman since my wife died. Not until I met you. Still, I didn't expect to feel what I just felt when we kissed. So I'm going to give you the chance right now, Amy. If you don't plan on staying, tell me now and I'll take you home. But if you come back inside with me, don't ask me to stop and don't ask me to take you home, because I won't.” He dropped her hands and looked into her eyes and waited.

She took a deep breath, fixed her gaze on a distant spot in the semi-darkness, chewed on her bottom lip as both fear and desire warred within her. Then she took his hand in hers and led him back to the house.

Virtual Book Tour: Jacqueline Paige

Today Goddess Fish Promotions and The Cozy Page team up to give readers a taste of Salvation, author Jacqueline Paige's paranormal romance from Eternal Press. Be sure to read through to the end to find out how you could win a tote bag stuffed with trinkets and treasure. Take it away, Jacqueline:

How many times can you go back to the dream of doing what you’ve always wanted to?

My answer: as many times as it takes.

When I think back as far as I can remember (we’ll say roughly 9 years old) I was always reading. I was in grade four and flying through everything on the class library shelf, with the encouragement of my teacher I moved on to grade five level reading – and then six. My family moved a lot with my father’s job, so books became my best friends. With a book I could step into a different world and either race through it or take my time and expand on scenes. For years this gave me the label of a dreamer, as my head was always off in some world that I had found on pages.

By the time I was eleven I was writing my own worlds – and believe me when I say I wished I could get back that young mind and work with that mindset now. This was when I decided I wanted to be a writer. I didn’t fit the bookworm stereo-type either, which confused people even more. I was a hard working farm girl, on every sports team I was allowed be on (why can’t girls be on the football team?) and on track day I would always bring home a handful of first place ribbons – what did I do on the bus ride home? Read.

My constant writing and reading drove my family insane. Many times I had to be hunted down, only to be found curled up somewhere out of sight reading. My writing by my late teens mostly ran in the poetry flavour – which to read now was horrifically depressing, even though at the time I thought it was brilliant. (I now understand the mind set as I have teen daughters, life is so dramatic!)

Life got busy in the grown-up world for me and my dream faded into the realities of raising young children and everything that goes with it. I didn’t think about writing again until several years after that, when I sat down and wrote a full length novel, and then another. More changes in my reality had me putting them in a box and having to place the world of writing on hold again.

Many more years passed and I found myself wanting to have the last laugh with a friend. She was going away for a month and leaving me to find things to do all by myself. Who was I going to go book scavenging with? When I asked her what I was going to do without her, she replied “Write a book.” She was joking, and I knew it but I decided to toss something together and give her that book when she returned.

Three weeks later, exhausted and exhilarated I stared at two hundred pages of a story that had come out of my mind. (I literally left fingernail marks in my laptops keyboard) I was shocked that I had actually done this. By the end of the month, when my friend returned, I was a hundred pages into book number two.

I emailed her the book she had told me to write. She thought it was going to be something silly – she knew too well ... she was shocked and exhilarated.

The dream found me again, and this time I think I’ll hang onto it!

Lost in a place between living and dying, confined to roam endlessly over the same grounds for all eternity and cursed to never be seen again, Jareth wanders through time alone and longing for the sea once more. When he realizes there is one thing he yearns for more than he ever did the sea, he is tossed into a world he is unfamiliar with.

Stuck with a life that never goes her way, Miranda is determined to get at least one thing she wants. When that one thing turns out to be a sexy pirate that lived over two hundred years ago, she finds herself faced with more than one challenge to have him.

Can they break the curse and be together?

Get your copy of Salvation today at Eternal Press and learn more at Jacqueline website. By commenting here today, you will be entered to win a grand prize tote bag full of trinkets and treasure from Jacqueline. The more you comment along her virtual blog tour, the more chances you have of winning. Visit Goddess Fish Promotions for a tour schedule. Enjoy this excerpt from Salvation....

Grasping the steering wheel, she slowly lowered her forehead to rest on it. A strange, yet familiar feeling prickled across the back of her neck. She didn’t raise her head, just smiled into the steering wheel. “You could do something to help.”

She lifted her head slowly, afraid to move too fast, and turned to look beside her. She watched the image of the man she’d been seeing for years become clearer. If she focused hard enough, he would almost appear to be real. Many times over the years she thought she was seeing things, possibly ghosts, but it was only ever him.

He gaped at her, his shock more than obvious. “How...you can see me? Truly?”

Randy sat there wanting to reach out and hug him. Hallucinations didn’t talk—did they? His voice was rough and deep, and she’d never been happier to hear someone speak. “I more or less sense you most of the time, but if I focus hard enough I can see you.” She looked at the scar across his left cheek. “You’re very clear today.”

He frowned. “And you can hear me?”

Randy tried not to grin. “I’m answering you, aren’t I?”

“That’s impossible...”

“And yet, here we are talking and being all visible-like.” She looked at him, from his long ebony black hair down to his black worn boots.

Reader Newsletter Sign-Up...

Great news, Cozies! I've finally finished developing a reader newsletter so fans can sign up for email updates. My subscribe buttons are scattered around my website, but you're just one step away from signing up here at The Cozy Page. See the pink Subscribe To My Newsletter button on the right sidebar? Click on that, fill out the short contact info form and you're on my mailing list! Easy, huh? I'll be sending my first newsletter out late this week or early next week so be sure to sign up now!


I know there haven't been many updates at my website, but that will change soon, I promise! Until then, NaNo starts tomorrow and in addition to writing 1700 words a day, I'll be working out four days a week. The extra challenge keeps me from getting too far out of shape while I'm pounding away at the keyboard more hours than usual every day until the end of November. More on my special NaNo workout soon....


This week here at Cozy I roll out the red carpet for two virtual book tours from Goddess Fish Promotions. Be sure to check back in on Thursday and Friday for excerpts, prizes, and more from paranormal romance author Jacqueline Paige and romantic suspense author Rie McGaha!

Virtual Book Tour: SEX AND SUBTERFUGE

Today Cozy is host to another exciting Goddess Fish Promotion virtual book tour! Readers, please help me in welcoming author Isabel Roman whose latest romance, Sex and Subterfuge (of The Dark Desires of the Druids series) launched July 1st! Commenters today will be entered to win a Vice Versa beaded fashion purse, a summer shawl, and a box of Godiva chocolates! (For other tour hosts and dates and more chances to win, visit GFP)

Inspiration. You are my Inspiration….. Anyone ever see the Rock Hudson movie Pillow Talk? The song came instantly to mind when I typed inspiration and then wondered where on earth I was going with this.

What’s my inspiration? I have a lot of inspirations; some days it’s a complete stranger being nice to me. Others it’s family or friends. In my writing, it’s pretty much whatever is around. But that’s boring, isn’t it?

Let’s talk history. Let’s talk sexy history! Sex in history is nothing new, but anyone who reads historical know that. So what inspires me to write something new? A song, something someone says, a really interesting news item, and always The History Channel.

Taking a small piece of history and twisting it is great fun. For instance, in my Druids books I took the Spanish Inquisition and twisted it so they hunted Druids or magickers instead. Now it was called the Purifications, and 200 years later it was still going on in Victorian England. Every story of burning at the stake, of the witch trials that spread through Europe, of even the hint of witchcraft now became part of my alternate universe. These people hunted magickers to near extinction and carry great weight in the Parliament of 1882.

Yeah, it’s fun to play goddess, to move things around and twist them to your liking. But really, it all comes down to the fact that without knowing about these fun facts to begin with, I’d never be able to play. There was something about the French Revolution and how they were warring (and losing) with Hungry before the full-blown Napoleonic Wars erupted. I wrote it down in a file and stored it in case I ever wanted to use it for a story.

Inspiration is a game of what if. What if Y happened instead of X. What if A happened to these characters instead of B, C, and D. You can find inspiration anywhere, from your family by playing the what if game, a movie or favorite TV show. It’s all about how twisted your own mind is and where you want to take it.

Read Dark Desires of the Druids: Sex & Subterfuge available now in bookstores! And be sure to check out Isabel’s free story!

A master magicker, Morgana Blackthorne has a tenuous hold on her following. When a strange Englishman arrives on her doorstep with news of other druidic magickers, and magicker problems, she’s intrigued but suspicious. There hasn’t been contact between the American and European druids in over a hundred years. Plus she has her own worries and doesn’t need the handsome earl adding to them.

Lucien, Earl of Granville, left England to seek out the Blackthorne Druid line and discover what they’ve been up to since contact was lost. Once he and Morgana meet, their mutual attraction distracts him from his purpose. Embroiled in her problems, he finds himself more concerned with her welfare than is practical for a passing affair.

When I invited you into my bed, it never occurred to me I wouldn’t want you to leave.

There are darker forces at work and the hunger of a weak magicker desperate for power. Will Lucien convince Morgana of his true feelings before things spiral out of control? Or will the surrounding subterfuge tear them apart?

Excerpt from Sex and Subterfuge....

“Lucien Harrington,” Jacobs, her butler, intoned, “the Earl of Granville.”

Smiling, Morgana swept out of the circle, stepping into the foyer, and greeted her guest. His timing was off, but as the magicker she knew him to be, not suspect.

“Welcome, Lord Granville,” she said, offering a slight curtsy.

He was tall, with dark blond hair, dark blue eyes, and a sharp nose over which he looked down at her. Her eyes traveled over his face, down his body, clothed in immaculately tailored Savile Row, back to his face. Arousal pooled hot in her belly.

She’d never wanted any man. Yet Morgana wanted Lord Granville. Her skin prickled at his nearness, her womb clenched with want.

Forcing her mind off his body, she studied his face. Briefly, want flashed in his eyes and she smiled a truly wicked smile at him. It was gone as fast as it’d shone and she returned to studying him. There was grief hidden deep in his eyes, along with suspicion and weariness. Tilting her head, she wondered what caused those emotions. Suspicion she could easily understand. It’d been more than a hundred and thirty years since their families had any contact. Though, since he’d sought her out, she should be more suspicious of him.

“Mistress Blackthorne,” he bowed over her offered hand. Flicking a glance behind her, he said, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Morgana smiled. She could all but feel David’s displeasure. Suppressing a giddy smile, she took Lord Granville’s arm and led him into the parlor. “We’re about to begin the New Moon Ritual. Do you still practice it in England?”

Looking up at him with guileless eyes, she waited for his confusion, gratified when it sparked briefly in those bottomless depths. Damn them all. She could be as gracious as she liked, but in the end, resentment bubbled to the surface. They’d abandoned her ancestors to indentured servitude and hadn’t bothered to contact any of them since.

“I’m afraid we lost that custom when we lost the valuable Blackthorne line.”

Morgana raised her eyebrow at him as they entered the parlor. Wasn’t he the diplomat?

“Would you care to join the ritual, Lord Granville?”

He bowed again and smiled. “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Blackthorne.”

Virtual Book Tour: ALL THE GOOD MEN

Goddess Fish Promotions brings yet another exciting virtual book tour to The Cozy Page - Cindy Jacks' All the Good Men. Cindy is here with us today to discuss the influence of food in All the Good Men. Take it away, Cindy! And remember, Cozies, that all commenters will automatically be entered to win a signed print copy of All the Good Men and a branded "Fiction for the Bad Girl in Every Woman" book bag!

Food plays a huge role in our lives. It can be comforting, sensual, or just plain nourishing. Meals make up a big part of our lives, help with family bonding and help celebrate important events. And there's no denying food's effect on our health and mental well-being, too. That's why, as an author, I think it's important to describe my characters' eating habits. Also, can they cook? And if so, do they like to or do they prefer to eat out? These details can show a reader much about who the character is.

In my book, All the Good Men, food plays a big part of the manuscript. The heroine, Dahlia, goes on several blind dates to various restaurants which helped me differentiate the personalities of the various suitors. Also, Dahlia's father loves to cook and is quite good at it so he often makes elaborate meals for his grown daughters. As in real life, this kind of interaction helped to solidify the bonds between the characters. Not to mention there is also pie-flinging scene and scene in which the hero, Jackson Carmichael, is almost killed by a Caesar salad. Yes, that's right, lol, I said killed by a Caesar salad.

With so much emotion capable with the manipulation of food, it's no wonder that many books and movies use it as an expression of love—as in Amy Tan's book The Joy Luck Club, to the ultimate slap in the, uh...face, as in the film The Cook, the Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover. Cuisine served as the heroine's only means of self-expression and the source of elemental magic in Laura Equivel's Like Water for Chocolate. In Fried Green Tomatoes, the movie's title recipe was hardly the most memorable darkly comic dish. Even the phrase I appropriated for the title of this blog entry, “Food, glorious, food,” came from the musical Oliver! There's no doubt in this author's mind as to the powerful cultural statement that can be made by exploring the eating habits of one's characters.

In honor of the fictional pie that gave its life to punctuate my heroine's frustration, I've included my grandmother's pecan pie recipe. Maw Maw Wiggins made the best pecan pie I've ever tasted—no way in heck I'd ever fling this pie at anyone, no matter how angry. Her secret to it's gooey richness? Dark corn syrup and bourbon.

Maw Maw's Pecan Pie

Pie Crust

1 1/4 cup all purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter, well chilled
3-5 tablespoons water, ice cold

Combine flour and salt. Cut butter into 1/2 cubes, toss into flour. Take out your pastry cutter and throw it away. It is an evil, evil device that will overwork your pastry. For an exceptionally flaky crust you gotta get your hands in there. Using your hands, quickly pinch the butter cubes into pieces about the size and thickness of dimes and nickels. Stir in cold water with fork until incorporated, then give the dough 2 or 3 more quick stirs. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and allow to rest in fridge while you prepare the filling.

Filling

1 cup dark corn syrup
1 cup brown sugar
1/3 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon bourbon
3 eggs
2 cups pecans, broken into pieces

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Whisk together all ingredients except pecans. Pour into pie shell. Sprinkle with pecans. Place pie on a baking sheet and put into oven. Bake 15 minutes. Turn down heat to 350 degrees and bake for another 45 minutes to 1 hour, until pie is soft set. If crust and/or nuts start to brown to much, cover with aluminum foil until the end of baking time. Cool pie completely before serving.

Enjoy!
Cindy Jacks

Dahlia is sure the hackneyed platitude is true: After a certain age, all the good men are married or gay. She feels her thirty-eight years put her well past that 'certain age.' Her best friend and her sisters dare her to put her fate where her mouth is. The terms of the challenge? During the month of October, she has to end her five-year-long man fast and go on dates with men of their choosing. Oh, and she also has to go out with anyone else who asks.

As the date disasters pile up, the vindication almost makes the torturous evenings bearable for Dahlia. But a handsome new neighbor, Jackson Carmichael, moves in, changing the rules of the game. Retired after twenty-six years as a pro firefighter in Boston, he volunteers with the local fire department, coaches a youth hockey team, and appears for all the world to be the perfect man. He just might throw a wrench into Dahlia's plan to die lonely and single...that is if she doesn't scare him away first.

Readers can find out more about Cindy Jacks and her writing at http://www.cindyjacks.com/. Enjoy this excerpt from All the Good Men....

Skipper's, McGrady's, the Dew Drop Inn. Dahlia didn’t find her father at any of his regular hangouts. As a last ditch effort, she drove home, hoping to find him there. No such luck.

She called Beck. “Hi, it’s Dahlia. I haven’t found him, but if for some reason he turns up at the VFW, please give me a call.”

“Will do, ma’am. Again, I can’t tell you how sorry I am he got away from me.”

“No, no. It’s not your fault. I felt like I should’ve stayed home with him, but with all the orders at work—” The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. “Beck, there’s someone here. I’ll call you back.”

As she clamped the cell phone shut its hinge snarled in a lock of hair. Dahli tugged at the accursed thing as she trotted to the front door. When she opened it, Dahlia abandoned her efforts to disentangle the phone. There stood her father, soaking wet, draped against the shoulder of a man she’d never seen before.

“Hi.” The stranger flashed an apologetic smile. “Does he belong to you? I feel like I've seen him pruning the hedges out front.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Perhaps if she blocked out the image of her piss-drunk father long enough, he might disappear. Opening one eye she found she’d had no such luck.

“Yes, I’m so sorry. Where did he wind up, Mr…?”

“Carmichael. Jackson Carmichael. I found him floating in my koi pond.”

“Oh, good Lord. I’m really sorry. We’ll pay for any damages.” Dahlia reached for her dad, but Jackson scooped up the old man using a fireman’s carry.

“Not to worry. I’m just glad I found him when I did. Is it okay to set him on the couch?”

“Please. I’ll get some towels.” She hurried from the room if only to hide her flaming embarrassment. Upon return, she made a vain attempt to blot up the water that pooled around the passed out lump she usually called Dad.

“Thank you, Mr. Carmichael. I can’t apologize enough. Daddy’s a bit of a handful.”

“No apology necessary, but may I…?” He reached out a hand.

“Of course.” Dahli thrust a dry towel at him.

“No, no. I meant—” Jackson made a gentle twist and tug that freed the forgotten cell phone from her hair. “There you go.”

“Christ almighty. Lovely first impression I’ve made,” she said and shoved the phone in her pocket.

“Nah, no biggie.” He stripped off his shirt and dried himself. “I meant to come by to introduce myself a couple days ago, but I’ve been swamped trying to get settled.”

Though a half naked man in her living room—and a rather physically fit one at that—was a rare occurrence, Dahlia did her best to avert her eyes. “I’m sure Daddy and I have made you want to run for the hills.”

“Not at all, Ms…?”

“Foster, but please, anyone who finds my father in his fishpond can call me Dahli.”

“A pleasure,” he said and handed her the towel. “Thanks.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“I’d love something, but I have to get back. Rain check?”

“Sure. Come by anytime.” But I won’t hold my breath...not that I blame you, she added silently.
Dahli walked him to the front door, thanking him again. After closing the door behind Mr. Carmichael, she plodded into the living room to check on her father.

“Daddy,” she said to deaf ears and sank into the loveseat. “What am I going to do with you?”

Special Guest: Kelly A. Harmon

Today Cozy hosts special guest author Kelly A. Harmon on her virtual book tour for fantasy novel Blood Soup:

A tale of murder, betrayal and comeuppance.

King Theodicar of Borgund needed an heir. When his wife, Queen Piacenza, became pregnant, he’d hoped for a boy. His wife, along with her nurse, Salvagia, knew it wouldn’t be so: with each cast of the runes, Salvagia’s trusted divination tools yielded the same message: “A girl child must rule or the kingdom will fall to ruin.” The women were convinced that the child would be a girl.

When the queen finally gives birth, the nurse and the king are equally surprised. The king is faced with a terrible choice, and his decision will determine the fate of his kingdom. Will he choose wisely, or will he doom Borgund to ruin?

Hi Kelly! How would you define Blood Soup in terms of genre?

My non-fantasy-reading friends have called it a "suspense." But I like to think of it as a dark fantasy or medieval fantasy.

I guess it all depends on your perspective.

What inspired you to tell this story?

Blood Soup was conceived of craziness, not inspiration.

I'd been asked to participate in the 3-Day Novel contest with a friend and I needed a story idea quick. I've always got ideas to choose from, but my style tends to run long, novel-length. I needed to write something shorter than that because the thrust behind the 3DNC is that you need to finish your novel in three days.

So, I brain-stormed. I decided I wanted to write something medieval, I wanted a prophecy, and I wanted a witch. I threw those elements together and came up with the idea. I created a few characters, offered them motivation, and determined how I wanted to end the story.

Most of the dark elements, and the blood theme, came around as I wrote.

Do any of this book's themes mirror contemporary issues?

I suppose you could make a case for addition, but I didn't plan the story that way.

Who would you say is the main protagonist? Why?

There are a few key players in this story, so it's hard for me to choose one initially. By the end of Blood Soup, however, Prince Amalric is definitely the lead.

Poor Amalric, whose blood lust is thrust upon him by a determined father, must come to realize that he’s not the rightful heir to Borgund. Everything he's done, planned for, experienced, lived is all a lie. Watching him realize that, and decide what he's going to do about it, makes for interesting reading, I think.

Why the title Blood Soup ?

I'm an avid genealogist. At the time I was writing Blood Soup, I was researching the Polish side of my family and putting together a family-recipe cookbook. One of the recipes was for a special-occasion (usually a holiday) soup called "Czarnina" (char-NEE-nah). In English, it’s referred to as Blood Soup. I knew I wanted the soup to play a pivotal role in the book.
But if I could have a do-over, I'd change the title. Coupled with the cover art, which is quite sinister–and definitely not what I would have chosen (although it's very good!)–it seems to imply horror. There are some horrific elements to the book (it is about murder and betrayal, after all) but not as much as the combination seems to imply.

This story won the July 2008 Fantasy Gazetteer s Novella Contest. Why do you think it has been so well-received?

I think people find the story intriguing. There's a bit of a mystery at the beginning due to the prophecy: a girl child must rule, or the kingdom will fall. So you have to wonder: will the queen have a son or a daughter? The king is certain it will be a boy, the queen and her nursemaid are certain it will be a girl. Each of them is surprised when the queen finally gives birth.

Then, there's the blood aspect of the story. Prince Amalric craves the taste of blood so much, that it's like an addition (though not in a vampire-like manner)...he almost can't control the way he acts sometimes when he doesn't get his "fix" of blood. It's interesting to watch this "addiction" unfold. It doesn't help that Amalric's life is a train-wreck you can't help watching.

As a writer of both, which format do you prefer: novel or novella?

Novel wins hands down. I like to tell grand, sweeping stories with lots of room for subplots.

Blood Soup was written under a deadline, and I deliberately pared down the story, excising several subplots before they were written, to be able to finish it on time.

You were a reporter for some time. What compelled you to switch to fiction?

I never intended to make a career out of reporting, it just seemed the most pragmatic choice for someone who only ever wanted to write. I knew if I couldn't sell my fiction right away, I could at least be doing something I liked. While I worked, I could still write in the evening.

It turns out I liked reporting lot...but I didn't like the hours or the pay.

So, I went back to school for a Systems Analysis and Design/Computer Science degree. Now I work full-time in tech, and I still write fiction in the evening. The great thing about this situation is that I can afford all the little techy gadgets which make my life easier.

Can you share an excerpt with my readers here at The Cozy Page today?

I'd love to, thanks!

Here's an early scene in the book:

Theodicar looked down at the mewling infant in his arms, and felt the anger rise up. Even in death his wife defied him, the nurse ensuring her success. Women did not rule. He would not allow it. They had created a male child, and that child would take the throne upon his death.

“You can save the boy,” he said to Salvagia.

She slitted her eyes at him, her stare mutinous. Her words were loud and hard in the wake of Pia’s death. “I have the power to save one at the expense of the other, Sire. The girl is stronger. And eldest. She was born to rule.”

Theodicar watched the girl curl up in his arms, her birth fluids staining a brown patch on the dyed-yellow wool of his tunic. She burrowed into the crook of his elbow, trying to achieve the comfort of the womb.

“I will not hear those words again,” he said. “That absurd idea died with my wife. My son will rule.” He reached for the boy, thrusting the girl child back into the nurse’s hands. “There’s no need for a daughter. And no need for anyone to know of her.”

“So be it,” Salvagia said, wrapping the weary girl in a square of wool, covering her face. She reached for her basket.

“Kill her now,” said Theodicar.

Salvagia looked stricken.

“Sire, if we kill her now, she will be of no use to her brother. Once dead, the blood won’t flow, and we need her blood to strengthen his.

“Then drain her now,” he snapped. “I will not have her crying out when we call the witnesses back to cut the boy’s cord.”

Here's a late scene in the book:

Amalric didn’t know what he had expected to see—what he expected to feel—once he pushed aside the curtain. But it certainly wasn’t the empty void he experienced. Surely, these two women should mean something to me, he thought. He should feel sad for their passing. Or relief at his own existence. Or anger at his sister’s senseless murder.

But he’d never met them, and they meant nothing.

“Mother,” he whispered, trying to feel the relationship. He touched her loose brown hair, satiny in death, as if it had been oiled. Mummified flesh clung to her skull, her mouth hung slack with decay. But he could make out her features, even in abstract.

Piacenza’s arms crossed her chest, holding onto the baby she’d died birthing. The child lay on her stomach, her face turned out to the corridor. Smooth in death, the babe’s skin was stretched taut across her skull, her tiny mouth open as if searching for a breast. He couldn’t picture this small babe as his twin.

“Sister,” he said, failing to convince himself of an emotional connection to the babe. He smoothed a thumb across her forehead, touched a finger to her puckered lips.

A scowl wrinkled his forehead, and he felt a tightness behind his eyes.

Now that he knew about them, how long would he continue to feel the emptiness that knowing them should have filled?

Had his father confirmed his sister’s existence in order to wring sympathy from his heart? Didn’t he realize that a man who had never known the loving touch of his mother nor felt the bond of his long-deceased sister would find nothing but apathy amid these moldering bones?

Amalric gazed at the wispy hair, the withered skin, and suddenly, he made a fist and drove it into his mother’s side. He felt her ribcage shatter beneath his knuckles, and saw his sister’s small frame sink as the bones of his mother failed to support her. A puff of dust rose above his sister’s head like a small halo in the torchlight.

He laughed, finding sudden humor in the situation. He should be rejoicing, he thought. Perhaps he should feel some harmony with his sire—the man who removed all obstacles from his path to the throne.

How pathetic of him, thought Amalric, if he felt any pride at all for getting rid of these women. Women! Who should be seen and not heard, who should do the bidding of their husbands without fail, who are required to take the brunt of a man’s anger and return it threefold with a submissive demeanor. Women, he thought, who are frail beyond measure and easily subdued. How pitiable that Father should take pride in such an achievement. And worse, how contemptible that he might think my seeing the mortal remains of these women would create in me a sudden change of heart.

Thank you so much for sharing with us today, Kelly! Readers, learn more about Kelly at her website. If you would like to read Blood Soup, it is available now from Eternal Press in PDF and hard copy. Follow Kelly's virtual blog tour and comment here today to be entered to win a $25 Amazon or Barnes & Noble Gift Card. To view tour locations, visit Goddess Fish Promotions.

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