Posts Tagged ‘writing’

VBT_TourBanner_LoveForSaleThis 5-star book is being featured in a Book Tour August 31 through September 4th. One lucky commenter, through a Raffleopter giveaway, will win a beautiful pair of genuine turquoise and silver stud earrings.


Here is the links for the tour.  Follow Linda on tour for interesting guest blogs and more chances to win! And get to know her better!

August 31: Long and Short Reviews
August 31: Christine Young
September 1: Romance Novel Giveaways
September 2: The Reading Addict
September 3: Archaeolibrarian – I dig good books! – review
September 3: Laurie’s Thoughts and Reviews
September 4: Lisa Haselton’s Reviews and Interviews

The great cover is in the Golden Cover Contest and made the first cut.  The second round will be judged by cover artists. Buy Link:


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Linda Nightingale, the author of Love For Sale says:

LoveForSale_w9468_medCover contest! The great cover for Love For Sale, a sci-fi romance, (Debbie Taylor, Cover Artist) is up for votes in the Romance Category at http://highlightedauthor.com/golden-star-cover-art-contest/romance-cover-category/  as #15 (scroll down).  I would very much appreciate your vote!  I’d love to see Debbie win this tribute!




Buy Link for Love For Sale

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SBB_TourBanner_RedTideRising copyAllie will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour:  a Rafflecopter giveaway

RTR - Teaser 1 (2)BLURB:

Ages 18+. Contains strong language, explicit sex and elements of horror. This book is the final installment in the Immortal Touch trilogy.


What good is immortality when every moment is agony?


The vampire Ash has returned from his watery grave, proving that death is merely a minor inconvenience. Picking up where he left off? That might not be as easy. Because someone else is vying for Sami’s attention – the last person he ever would have expected.

Fulfilling her desire for immortality seems the surest route to winning her favor. But for Sami, this gift will come at a terrible price. One simple lie of omission is all it takes to send her spiraling into a terminal state of madness. And as the last remnants of her sanity slip away, Ash can no longer deny that her maniacal behavior is putting them all at risk. His perfect angel has become a perfect liability.

But can he find it in his heart to destroy her?


MediaKit_BookCover_RedTideRisingAlmost simultaneously they blinked, the two heads bobbing about in disoriented confusion as they struggled to assimilate. Straightening, Ash took a step back and spread his arms open with a haughty smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the freakshow! I am your host and master of ceremonies. Tickets are nonrefundable and the rules here are simple. There are only two, so please give me your undivided attention as I will not, I repeat, will not be going over these instructions twice. Listen up, here we go. Rule number one. Do. Not. Scream. First motherfucker in here that wigs out on me gets their gray matter painted all over the walls. Unless you want this place redecorated with your brains, I suggest you take ol’ Sparky’s advice here and – how’d you put it? Oh, yeah. Keep. It. Down.

“Rule number two. I am in charge here. In case you illiterate hillbilly dumbasses don’t know what that means, I’ll clarify. You will do what I say, when I say it, without asking why. These rules are non-negotiable and subject to change at any time, without any warning, in accordance with my whim. Do we have any questions from the audience?”

Sami watched, enthralled, as the startled couple exchanged panicky looks. Once again almost synchronously, their bulging eyes returned to the gun being waved around in front of their faces. Neither of them seemed to know what to do.

The woman was the first to hazard a question. Bringing a shaking hand to her chest, she coughed twice before saying in a croaky voice, “P-please…I need a Xanax. I think I’m having a panic attack.”

“A panic attack? Really?” Asher’s free hand flew to his mouth in exaggerated dismay. “Oh, my. Now that is unfortunate. Regrettably, management won’t allow us to stop the ride and let you off once it’s started. However, we will have some nice parting gifts for you. May I have your name, please?”

“My…name?” Her cheeks grew even more wan if that was possible. She looked dangerously close to face-planting into the floor.

“Yes. Your name. What people call you. Comes above the street address on your mail. Generally the first line on your birth certificate. Any of that ring a bell?”

“Brandy,” she whispered before coughing again.

RTR - Teaser 2“What was that you were asking for, Brandy? A Xanax?”

“Yes…please. They’re in…in my purse. Over there.”

“My dear, you don’t need medication. What you need is a transfusion. Request denied. Next?”

At her side, Kemper seemed to suddenly spring to life. “What’s going on here?” he snapped indignantly. “Who are you people?”

“I apologize, but due to union rules we are only permitted to answer one question at a time. Kindly select just one.”

Not only baffled but clearly getting pissed off, Kemper gritted his teeth so that his lower lip protruded in a way that reminded Sami of Slingblade. “I said…who ARE you people?”

“Oh! That’s right! You don’t even know how to address me yet, do you? Please pardon the oversight. Let me introduce myself. I am known as Alpha to the fortunate, Grim Reaper to the unfortunate, and Total Prick to everyone else. You can simply call me Sir. To my left is my lovely assistant Samara. Take a bow, gorgeous.”

Smiling brightly, she gave a dainty little curtsey. “How do you do?”

It wasn’t so bad, really.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

MediaKit_AuthorPhoto_RedTideRisingAllie fell in love with books from the moment she was issued her very first Sally, Dick and Jane reader. Born and raised in Alabama, she now resides in the sunny panhandle of Florida with her own blue-eyed Prince Charming and two fat, obnoxious cats. When she’s not busy obsessing over the lexicon of her latest project, she can usually be found watching B-movie horror (the cheesier, the better!), reading or playing online computer games while indulging her unhealthy Pepsi addiction.

Stalker Links:

Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/alliegailauthor

Twitter – http://twitter.com/alliegailauthor

Goodreads – http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7007359.Allie_Gail

Book Trailer Link:

YouTube – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DlDaGFtcUlo&feature=youtu.be

RTR - PlaylistFOR Additional chances to win, follow Allie on her tour:


Don’t forget!

Allie will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour –

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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88dbb99f-fd54-4aef-8a4f-a63f47f6891e_zpszzm72u8xThe hero in Linda Nightingale’s Sinners’ Opera is an English lord, a classical pianist and…a vampire.  She posted the third installment of her free read today.  If you haven’t visited yet, you are only two chapters behind in this darker side of Morgan story.  http://lindanightingale.com/vampyre-hunt-a-continuing-story-starring-morgan-darcy/

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4th Anniv PosterThere are more than 350 participating authors and publishers, and  more than 350 prizes up for grabs during the whole month of March.

Grand prize is a $100 Gift Certificate!

Linda Nightingale is there with prizes and her day is March 19th.  See you then!!!???

You need to register and be logged in at TRR before you can play the game.



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If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead, either write things worth reading or do things worth writing.
– Benjamin Franklin

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In interview after interview, I’ve been asked one variation or another on the question “When did you decide to become a writer?” The truth is, I don’t think I ever really decided to become a writer; I just remember writing one thing or another—poems, plays,
you-name-it—from the time I could spell C-A-T.

I’ll tell you one thing: I certainly never planned to write obituaries. And yet….

By my sophomore year of high school, I’d tried my hand at stories, articles, even two plays, and a prodigious
quantity of poems, all of which would now cause me to die of embarrassment should anyone unearth them at this late date. My grandmother, determined to see my writing flourish, almost forcibly escorted me into the office of one of the two weeklies that served our community. Nanny knew the editor of the Herald, and she made an appointment for us to go and sit down with her. I showed the editor my “portfolio,” such as it was. Mrs. Maher looked at my articles in the camp newspaper, the club
newspaper, and every other newspaper I had been able to get published in.

Next thing I knew, I was writing for the Herald. From typed reports of lodge meetings, submitted by officers of the club, and from press releases about forthcoming charity bazaars, I was supposed to fashion brief, tight, interesting articles. I also wrote up false-alarm calls to the volunteer fire department. (Interesting stories, such as actual fires, went to the seasoned writers.)

Mrs. Maher was pleased with my work and, at year’s end, offered me the teenage gossip column, replacing a writer who was going off to college. Not only wasn’t I interested in gossip, but not being on the grapevine, I knew I’d never even hear all the items I’d need for
the column. I went on reporting on the Bike Safety Program and the Memorial Day Parade.

Meanwhile, the rival weekly, the Record, had started a teenage column too. This one, however, dealt with good works by teens, charitable involvements and the like. No gossip. Feeling like a deserter and an ingrate, I took my Herald portfolio over to the Record and showed it to the editor there.  I knew her teen columnist would be going away to college at the end of the summer.

I was conditionally promised the column. I’d have to start by writing the same old stories I was stuck with at the Herald, but if I lived up to the quality of the clippings I’d shown the editor, the teen column would be mine in the fall. So I jumped ship. My summer was full of Masons and Elks, meetings and raffles, and small fires that were put out by neighbors before the firemen had gotten there. (At least I had graduated from false alarms!)

Just as summer drew to a close, the editor fell down a flight of stairs and suffered a serious back injury. A new editor was brought in “temporarily.” I spoke to her about the column, but she wanted to see how I wrote, first. “I’ve been doing that all summer!” I
protested. “The editor promised me….”

“I am the editor for now,” she said.

I told her I wanted the column and didn’t want to just keep on writing about retiring librarians and brush fires.  She assured me she didn’t intend to keep me confined to those. She was right; she didn’t.

And so, each week, it became my duty to sit down at a phone in the newspaper office and make five identical phone calls: “Hello, this is the Record calling. Can you tell me who died this week?” There were set questions to ask the five local funeral chapels about each of the deceased: Name, date at death, age of death, cause of death, next of kin, date and time of funeral, and who
officiated, and date and time and place of interment. Added to that when applicable were length of local residence, employment or business ownership, notable accomplishments, and family’s special requests (“In lieu of flowers…”).

I hated it.

Charting a week’s worth of death every seven days was doubly depressing: The topic itself wasn’t the cheeriest, and the opportunity for creativity was severely limited. There were only a few set leads permissible for an obituary: “John Doe, lifelong local resident, died this week at age 56….” “Fellow teachers mourned the loss this week of….”  “Funeral services were held on November 29th for….”

There was no room to be clever or inventive: “Guess who died this week?” “How would you like to live to be 93?  John Doe almost made it!” “The smartly-attired body in the golden oak casket last week at the Riverside Funeral Chapel belonged to….” “Who’s missing from our local banking scene? Yes, folks, John Doe, beloved bank teller, has gone on to that great cage in the sky….” Now, that might have been more creatively satisfying. It might have livened up (pardon the pun) the obit pages, too.

Not permissible.

I didn’t mind working unpaid if the experience was worth it. Almost all I was getting to do now, though, was the obits, and I thought I had learned all there was to know about them and certainly more than I cared to. It had become obvious the injured editor wasn’t
coming back and the teen column wasn’t going to be revived that year. I had too much pride to go back to the Herald, as my grandmother kept pushing me to do, but I quit the Record. The last I heard, some twenty years later, the same “temporary” editor was still running the show.

I have, however, gone on to bigger and better things. My writing these days ranges from books to advertisements to books to press releases to books to catalog copy to books. I’ve written everything from a book for kids on how to pray to…well…descriptions of dildoes. The catalog copy I mentioned a moment ago happened to be for a sex toy company.

I’ve also ghostwritten more than a few books (and commercial blogs) that have been published with someone else’s name following the word “by.” When people ask me if I don’t mind seeing my work with someone else’s name on the byline, I answer, “My name followed ‘Pay to the order of’.”

I love writing—even when, sometimes, someone else gets the credit. And I love helping other writers. I’ve even made a few good friends that way. Off the top of my head, I think of Tricia and Shirl, each of whom I met when they each contacted a local newspaper columnist for help with their writing, and he, knowing my propensity for helping fellow writers, gave them my phone number and strongly urged each of them to call.

Along the lines of helping fellow writers, I’ve also taught writing classes, on and off, for years. Of course I got paid for teaching the courses, but not all of the payoff was financial; I truly derive a great satisfaction from encouraging promising writers of all ages, all backgrounds, all writing interests (fiction, memoirs, exposés, kidlit, how-tos…). I no longer have the time to read anyone’s whole book for free, but I still try to be as helpful as possible.

About a year and a half ago, I put one foot in the waters of e-publishing. While continuing to submit my work to conventional publishers, I also sent a good-sized quantity of unsold book manuscripts to an e-publisher. They accepted quite a few of them. They subsequently, alas, went out of business…without paying me any royalties. But I had gotten my feet wet. I was persuaded that
e-books were the future, and I began submitting my work to other e-publishers.  At last count, some five e-publishers have my work available for sale.

I love writing. I’ll never stop. When I drop dead—and I hope that’s not for a long, long time yet—I plan to die at my keyboard. They’ll have to pry my cold, gnarled fingers from the keys when they take me away to the crematorium.

In the meanwhile, I’ll keep on writing. Books, ads, press releases, even more descriptions for sex toys, should another catalog approach me.

But no more obituaries, please. That’s one facet of my career that is buried (pardon the unintetiontal pun) in my past and I hope stays there.

I prefer to concentrate on the living.

• • •

Cynthia MacGregor’s book-writing credits include 54 conventionally published (print) books and over 50 e-books, many of which are listed on her website, www.cynthiamacgregor.com.

Her books written specifically for writers include:

50 Things You Need to
Know About Writing Believable Fictional Characters

50 Things You Need to
Know Before You Write Your Book

50 Things You Need to
Know About Self-Editing

50 Things You Need to
Know About Writing Children’s Books

50 Things You Need to
Know to Become a Ghostwriter

all the above available from Secret Cravings Publishing’s
Living & Learning imprint at:


and also

The Writer’s Guide to Paying e-Markets

available from XoXo Publishing at



You Can’t Learn to
Write Just by Readiing


The Writer’s Answer

also available from XoXo Publishing by the time you read
this, but not at the time it’s being written, so go to:



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