Gluten For Punishment and more:)

I’d like everyone to welcome the fabulous Nancy J. Parra to The Stiletto Gang today.  Nancy is an amazing lady and a wonderful author.  After years of writing romances, she began penning mysteries.  Her first mystery, Gluten For Punishment, (one of now three series that she has sold) hit shelves on May 7th.  And I’m pretty sure after you read this post you’ll be zipping off to the store to check it out!
Thanks to Joelle Charbonneau for asking me to guest blog. What
I love most about the Stiletto Gang is

the wonderful cast of strong, powerful
women. When their world needs fixing they don’t run away, they don’t play at
being helpless. Instead they step up, get to the facts, follow the clues and
make their world a better place.

In Gluten For
Punishment
, my protagonist is Toni Holmes who dares to return to her
hometown of OilTop Kansas and set up a gluten free bakery in the heart of wheat
country. Toni has every reason to hide in her bed. Her husband cheated on her,
her mother just died and left her to deal with “the family.” Included in her
family is her eccentric Grandma Ruth – a lifetime mensa member with a scooter
on the go. Not to mention Toni’s 52 cousins and a small town that never forgets
what you did in high school. 
Hint: Toni was not prom queen
Instead of crying in her gluten-free beer, Toni faces the
challenges head on including investigating a murder which happens in front of
her bakery.
Gluten For Punishment – excerpt:
“Toni, did you kill
George Meister?”

My mouth went dry. My jaw went slack. The camera’s flash kept popping, blinding
me. “What?” I glanced toward Grandma Ruth for some help. 

Candy Cole, OilTop’s ace reporter, pushed on. “You, yourself, told everyone you
were inside the store at the time he was murdered.”

“I was?” I shivered at the idea. It was bad enough to have a dead body nearby
but to have a murder happen within a few feet of you? Nauseating.

“Honey,” Candy pushed. “You had motive and opportunity. Did you do it?”

“Seriously?” I asked her. Here I’d been ready to give her a free cup of coffee.
Not anymore. I stepped back. 

“Did you?” Her mic wafted under my nose.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Are you telling me, it’s a coincidence you’re new in town and a man gets
murdered outside your bakery?” Candy’s eyes glittered like a snake’s. 

“I’m not new in town,” I crossed my arms in front of me. “I grew up here. Are
you saying any murders that happened while I lived here as a kid were my
fault?”

“No,” Candy said thoughtfully. “But it’s a good angle. I can check and see how
the murder rate was when you lived here and what happened after you left.”

“Stop it,” Grandma Ruth slapped the counter. “Toni wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Oh, really? Then why is the Chief at the courthouse right now getting a
warrant signed to search your home and your bakery for evidence?”

I sat down hard at the word warrant. 

“Put your head between your knees.” Grandma was beside me. Her sharp tone of
voice combined with her palm on the back of my head had me doing exactly what
she said. I have to admit staring at the black and white tile floor was a bit
more calming than looking at Candy.  Her
delight at my distress was unnerving.

“I thought we were friends, Candy,” I muttered.

“We are friends, honey,” Candy came around the counter and squatted down to
peer at me. “That’s why I came before the Chief.”

I turned my head. “You came to warn me?”

“Good friends hide the body, honey, remember?” Her gaze took on a warm and
concerned look. I wasn’t sure if I should believe it.

The Best and The Worst…of Reviews

By Evelyn David

Don’t tell me. I know. I shouldn’t read my reviews. Actor
Kevin Bacon has sworn that he never reads his, although don’t you think that
his agent probably does?

I know that several Stiletto Gang authors also have forsworn
reading reviews.

But you’re talking to a woman who happily reads spoilers for
her favorite TV shows – and still enjoys them. So you think I’m not going to
look to see who loves me – and, tragically, who doesn’t?

So I was thrilled when readers begin posting glowing reviews
of MURDER DOUBLES BACK. Lesa Holstine, librarian and reviewer extraordinaire,
said “When authors can manage to juggle large casts, complicated stories,
a fascinating dog, and traces of humor, they shouldn’t wait years between
books. Evelyn David’s entertaining Murder Doubles Back will make readers regret
four lost years.”

Wow! That made my week, month – year.

But then, here’s what another reader wrote,
headlined, “Where’s The Humor?” Actually the review was quite positive, saying, “The story line was
good. The characters were still appealing.” But she didn’t think we brought the funny.

But, But…she said I didn’t have a sense of humor? Me who has
considered a job as a stand-up comic? Me, who is a barrel of laughs, except
when reading reviews that are like a stiletto to the heart, so to speak.

You’re questioning my humor? Question my writing ability, sure. But question whether I can deliver a joke? The horror.

Sigh. Don’t tell me. I shouldn’t read reviews.

Maybe I’ll listen to a George Carlin riff on You Tube. Nobody
ever accused him of not having a sense of humor.

Please share your worst review or job performance
evaluation. Misery loves company.

Marian, the Northern Half of Evelyn David (the one without a
sense of humor, the Southern half is quite the cut-up)

 ———————

Click the link below to find out how to get 10 free ebooks
(including Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David)
Note: limited time offer

http://tinyurl.com/BeachReadFree10

 
 
 
 

Sullivan Investigations Mystery
Murder Off the Books KindleNookSmashwordsTrade Paperback
Murder Takes the Cake KindleNookSmashwords Trade Paperback 
Murder Doubles Back KindleNookSmashwordsTrade Paperback
Riley Come Home (short story)- KindleNookSmashwords
Moonlighting at the Mall (short story) – KindleNookSmashwords

 


Brianna Sullivan Mysteries – e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past CemeteriesKindleNookSmashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah KindleNookSmashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of LottawatahKindleNookSmashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- KindleNookSmashwords
A Haunting in Lottawatah – Kindle – NookSmashwords
Lottawatah Twister – KindleNookSmashwords
Missing in Lottawatah – KindleNookSmashwords
Good Grief in Lottawatah – KindleNookSmashwords
Summer Lightning in Lottawatah – Kindle NookSmashwords

The Ghosts of Lottawatah – trade paperback collection of the Brianna e-books
Book 1 I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries (includes the first four Brianna e-books)
Book 2 – A Haunting in Lottawatah (includes the 5th, 6th, and 7th Brianna e-books)

Romances
Love Lessons – KindleNookSmashwords

My Game of Thrones Non-Blog

 By Laura Spinella 
Earlier this week I posted at the Girlfriends Book Club. It’s another
water cooler blog, a virtual coffee klatch where women share the angst, joy, trepidation
and insight of their experiences as published authors. Like the Stiletto Gang,
we also share sidebar posts that might not have a single thing to do with writing
or books. Not infrequently, much humor and knowledge is gleaned from these left-of-center
pearls of wisdom.
I didn’t write that kind of blog at GBC, and I won’t get to write one
here today. My calendar insists that I have no time to write personal essays
about my favorite fodder: my kids, or to pen breezy posts about pop culture. Although,
seriously, have you watched Game of
Thrones
this season? I could easily do a 600-word diatribe on how those
fire-breathing dragons should incinerate the all the characters—the aimless
dirty, sometimes handless, wanderers of the realm.  They have become characters without a kingdom
or meaningful storyline.  But, as I
mentioned, I can’t write about that. I can’t because the ready-set-go bell of
publishing has rung! Six months out from my pub-date and it’s time to start
pressing the flesh and get in the game.  
Although, really, let’s think about the irony of my
predicament. It goes like this: A few years back I wrote a simple story about an
ingénue character, Isabel Lang, and her musically gifted best friend, Aidan
Roycroft.  My oldest daughter, then in her
late teens, loved the story. I thought about making more of it, but as the
publishing gods would have it, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER sold in the same moment. I
tucked that manuscript in a drawer and forgot about it. I wrote another book.
It was a long book with a busy storyline and characters I never really fell in
love with. But I thought it was the book I was supposed to write, so I pushed
on. Turned out my instincts were on target. The agent took one read and sent me
straight back to the blank screen. With my ego thoroughly bruised—I don’t know,
maybe I was trying to stick my head in the drawer—I came across that shorter story
titled THE IT FACTOR. Sure, it needed polish and a better, more mature plot,
but I loved these characters, and I remembered that. Things were looking up. I
spent a year massaging the manuscript, deciding if I really could pull off a
story that involved a rock star. I mean, who does that?
            Well, apparently, I do.
While the finished product took sweat equity and significant swearing, the
book sold right away—last summer. That’s when the elephant-like gestation
began. But we’re nearing the homestretch, passing the anticipated milestones:
cover art, back cover blurb and title. Things were inching along and I assumed
my title, THE IT FACTOR, was set in stone. Not so fast. In a phone call it was
re-titled ISABEL’S RHAPSODY, then a generic Aidan & Isabel marker through an
idea-less winter, and finally PERFECT TIMING.  Edits and ARCs are within spitting distance, as I
put another piece of the puzzle in place this week. AuthorBytes launched a shiny
new website for me. I think it’s really keen, but I also must confess that the
uber-author web developer is my afternoon gig.  It’s kind of like needing a new car and being
married to Detroit. They’re just going to insist on a Cadillac. Many
thanks to the talented team who pushed my site out the door in record time and
with optimal precision.
            So it all turns out to be my fault. If I hadn’t written a burgeoning sweet story, or a not so great book in between, who knows
what I would have written today. It might have been a romp through
the perils of securing summer employment for the nearly educated or spicy
banter about my Mother’s Day gift—tickets to the Goo Goo Dolls. But shhhhhhh, I’m
not supposed to know that! Instead, I’m here to talk about PERFECT TIMING!  Blah, blah, blah… Hey, how about hopping over
to Amazon and pre-ordering your copy? 
Thanks.     
           
Laura Spinella is the author of the award-winning novel, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER and the upcoming novel, PERFECT TIMING, visit her shiny new website, www.lauraspinella.net
             

Magnum vs Everybody Else

by Bethany Maines

I’ve been watching a lot of Magnum P.I. lately. And two
things have become very clear. One, the early 80’s were a time of
inappropriately short/tight shorts for men. And as for the second thing, well,
it’s a bit like the old joke about intelligence. There are those who can
extrapolate from incomplete data and those who…  I’ll leave you to figure out the second item that became
clear from Magnum’s short-shorts.  

Aside from admiring 1980’s Tom Selleck, I’ve also been
pondering a shift in TV story-telling style. Compared to today’s TV shows
Magnum’s style of bouncing from weekly mystery to weekly mystery with virtually
no expansive story line seems almost quaint. These days it seems like every
show is pursuing extended plot lines and slow building character themes that
reveal a new mastermind villain every season. In fact, it seems like the only
ones without a seasonal “Big Bad” these days are the procedurals like Law &
Order.
As a writer, I find myself intrigued by this shift. On one
hand, this extended long-form way of telling a story, makes for greater
character development and deeper story telling –making a TV show more like a
novel (or comic book). And I admire the skill and planning it must take to
execute so many plot lines at once. On the other hand, the extended story archs
make it hard for casual viewers to pop in and out of a series. This kind of
barrier to viewing would not have been allowed before Netflix, Hulu and other
streaming media allowed viewers to catch up with a show all at once.
I feel this style dichotomy is closely related to what I
call the “Sequel Dilemma.”  When
writing a sequel, do you simply dive into the latest mystery or do you stop to
throw in a couple of paragraphs of exposition to catch the reader up on what
has happened to our hero/ine thus far? 
If I were writing Magnum style novels than I pause to tell everyone that
my heroine used to be in the military and toss in a bit of back-story. If I’m
writing new style (aka Joss Whedon Style) novels then I just dive in and let my
readers catch up or read the other novels to fill themselves in. As a matter of
personal taste I find that I dislike the three paragraphs of exposition (which
doesn’t stop me from loving Magnum – I love Magnum!!), but maybe the TV model
doesn’t translate to novels. Maybe if a reader is diving into a story they
expect a little exposition to get the ball rolling? What do all of you think?
On a separate note, today is my birthday! And I would like
to celebrate by giving a gift to someone. The first person who can tell me the
names of the two Dobermans, aka The Lads, on Magnum P.I. will win a free
download of The Dragon Incident!
Bethany
Maines is the author of Bulletproof
Mascara, Compact With the Devil and Supporting the Girls
, as well
as The Dragon Incident, the first short in her new series 
Tales
from the City of Destiny
. You can also
view the Carrie Mae youtube
video or catch up with her at www.bethanymaines.com.

Reaching Way Back

Maggie’s post about her memories stirred up old ones of my own.

I only remember back to 5 years old with lots about kindergarten, giant blocks and playing store. I don’t remember learning anything. I had a wonderful friend named Sheila Ainsworth and sometimes I went there after school. I think the reason I was because my mom had a baby about that time and stayed in the hospital a long time–10 days, back then. My dad would pick me up after work. Of course the baby was my little sister and my days of being a spoiled only child were over.

Sheila had a two-story playhouse in her back yard that once belonged to Shirley Temple. I don’t remember much more about her or her mother, but I certainly remember that playhouse.

We lived in my grandmother’s house in South Pasadena. My grandparents had another house in Bakersfield and I remember going there on the train by myself to visit them. I had a note around my neck that said where I was to get off. The train was crowded, lots of service men. That was back when you boarded the train at the Los Angeles station and it went all the way to Bakersfield–through all the tunnels in Tehachapi. (Only freight trains do that now.) My grandpa worked for the railroad so I’m sure the conducter had his instructions.

My parents bought a house in Los Angeles, close to Glendale (and not far from So. Pasadena) and my grandparents moved back to the house we’d been in. I loved my grandmother. She always wore a dress and her long hair braided and pinned up. She belonged to Eastern Star and had many evening gowns. (Some she let me try on even though they were yards too long.) I know she belonged to bridge clubs and entertained them at her house too. My grandfather always wore suits. He did take his jacket off sometimes. He drove a Hudson–and my dad said he drove it like a train, never looking to one side or the other.

Several summers, my grandparents spent two weeks at the beach renting several rooms at a hotel. We mom and my sister and I stayed with them for a few days each year. They always had an umbrella in the sand and sat on a blanket. And yes, grandmother still wore a dress, and silk stockings and my grandfather his suit.  Of course we kids played in the sand and the ocean–and wore bathing suits.

My grandma always bought me two dresses for my birthday. My mom would say, “Marilyn, don’t beg your grandmother for anything. Only choose one dress.” It never worked out that way because when I tried on dresses, it was grandma that couldn’t choose. She always liked two and no matter how I protested, she’d buy them both. When she brought me home and I came in with two dresses, my mom would bawl me out no matter what Grandma or I would say.

Grandma never learned to drive, so when we went anywhere with her, grandpa was the driver. I remember her telling me to be sure and learn how to drive so I wouldn’t have to be dependent on anyone. Good advice.

My grandparents have been gone for a long time, but as time goes on and I’ve grown nearly as old as she was when she passed away, I look in the mirror and see the resemblance to my grandmother.

And by the way, I remember my great-grandmother too. I am fortunate because my sister and my cousin have no recollection of her. She passed away when I was twelve. She was a widow and ran a boarding house. She was tiny and looked a lot like my grandma except she had snow white hair.

Thank you, Maggie, for being the trigger that brought back all these memories.

Me at 5.

Marilyn

Lights, Camera, Action

By Evelyn David

Rhonda and I have been taking Hollywood
meetings since we wrote the first Sullivan Investigations mystery, Murder Off the Books. Of course, those meetings have been imaginary, but we prefer to
think of them as practice sessions for when we really do get “the
call.” Or another way to look at it, we create fictional characters and
settings for our books, what’s to stop us from creating fictional casting
sessions? In a perfect example of the mind meld of the collective Evelyn David
(as well as reflective of our ages), we both have always envisioned James
Garner, from the Rockford Files era, as Mac Sullivan.

But these fantasy casting sessions have taken on new meaning
over the last week because Evelyn David has gone Hollywood,
minus the sunglasses, plastic surgery, and actually, you know, going to California. We’ve
decided to release the three Mac Sullivan mysteries, as well as the first
Brianna Sullivan novella, as individual audio books. We’re looking for a reader
who can handle both male and female voices and capture the tone, pacing, and
humor we’ve written.

Not a job for the faint-hearted. Think about it. When Julia
Roberts played Vivan Ward, the prostitute with a heart of gold in Pretty Woman,
she didn’t also have to play Edward Lewis, handsome, tough businessman (Richard
Gere’s role), not to mention the sleazy business associate that Jason Alexander
captured perfectly. We’re asking one person to play detective, love interest,
and dog – and for the listener to instantly grasp who’s talking to whom, where,
and why.

And we love it. We’ve received several audition tapes of a
few pages of each book. Some actors nail it – and some have been instant
rejections. We think we’ve found the perfect reader for the Brianna book –
still struggling with finding the right one for the Mac/Whiskey mysteries (dogs
are so hard to cast).

Stay tuned.
 
All right Mr. DeMille, we’re ready for our close-up.

(Can you name the movie?)

Evelyn David
 
———————————-
 

 

Click the link below to find out how to get 10 free ebooks
(including Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David)
Note: limited time offer

http://tinyurl.com/BeachReadFree10

 
 
 
 

Sullivan Investigations Mystery
Murder Off the Books KindleNookSmashwordsTrade Paperback
Murder Takes the Cake KindleNookSmashwords Trade Paperback 
Murder Doubles Back KindleNookSmashwordsTrade Paperback
Riley Come Home (short story)- KindleNookSmashwords
Moonlighting at the Mall (short story) – KindleNookSmashwords

 


Brianna Sullivan Mysteries – e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past CemeteriesKindleNookSmashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah KindleNookSmashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of LottawatahKindleNookSmashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- KindleNookSmashwords
A Haunting in Lottawatah – Kindle – NookSmashwords
Lottawatah Twister – KindleNookSmashwords
Missing in Lottawatah – KindleNookSmashwords
Good Grief in Lottawatah – KindleNookSmashwords
Summer Lightning in Lottawatah – Kindle NookSmashwords

The Ghosts of Lottawatah – trade paperback collection of the Brianna e-books
Book 1 I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries (includes the first four Brianna e-books)
Book 2 – A Haunting in Lottawatah (includes the 5th, 6th, and 7th Brianna e-books)

Romances
Love Lessons – KindleNookSmashwords

Thinking about the Past

From birth to three-years-old, I lived in a beautiful
brownstone in Brooklyn; my grandmother lived in the one right next door, the
two homes connected by a little front courtyard.  My family decided after a few years to move
to the suburbs, something my non-driving grandmother wasn’t entirely
enthusiastic about, but she came along, living in a grandmother apartment connected
to our house, which was conveniently walking distance to a church.  That last detail made her very happy.
Besides living close to a church, there was another thing my
grandmother desired: a weekly trip back to Brooklyn.  There were two reasons for this:  1) to see her son and his family and 2) to
get the rye bread and butter that she liked. 
The rye was good old caraway studded bread made in a Kosher bakery.  The butter, however, was a different
story.  It couldn’t have “too much red”
in it and had to be purchased at a particular store on Flatbush Avenue.  To this day, I have no idea what that meant
but every week we made the trip in my mother’s Rambler station wagon, saw my
uncle, aunt, and cousins, and bought the two things that my Irish grandmother
loved to eat. 
Back in those days, the early ‘70s, the West Side Highway
was elevated for most of its length along the western edge of New York City.  On the left, as we headed south, sat a truck
positioned high on the side of a building. 
(Here’s a link to an old photo:  http://weber-street-photography.com/2012/02/16/yale-trucking-west-side-highway-1988/)  My grandmother told us that the model of the
driver inside the truck was her late husband, my mother’s father, Gus.  (OK, let that one sink in a minute.  She had a strange sense of humor.)  As we ventured further down the highway,
there were a number of ladies of the night working in the daylight hours
strutting on either side of the highway, and a variety of bars that catered to
a certain clientele who needed easy on/easy off the highway before and after
their assignations.  It was a different
time on the west side of New York, but one that is still a vivid memory.
My most treasured recollections of that time, however, are
those related to watching the World Trade Center—or the “Twin Towers,” as we
called them back then—being built.  Every
week would bring a different vantage point of the towers’ architectural
progress depending on which lane of the highway we were in, which stoplight we
waited at to progress toward the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel.  I remember craning my neck at a more awkward
angle each week as another floor went up. 
I’m not sure I saw it all the way to its completion but I remember it
getting pretty close.
My grandmother passed away in 1981 and my uncle—her son—moved
to Massachusetts.  We still visited some remaining
family members in Brooklyn over the years but tried different routes to get
there. (People in New York are crazy about traffic and avoiding it.  Here’s the secret:  you can’t.) 
The Belt Parkway.  The BQE.  The Brooklyn Bridge.  But none were as scenic and historic as going
down the West Side Highway—now, not elevated and now not littered with leather
bars and a variety of unsavory characters. 
I hadn’t realized how long it had been since we tried the old route until
we had child #2 in the car, someone who, when we stopped at a light, peered out
the window and said “Look, Mom!  The
Freedom Tower!”  He pressed his face
against the glass as I had done forty years prior and craned his neck to see
all the way to the last constructed floor. 
He marveled at the lights on it. 
He was fascinating by how close it seemed to be to the highway.  He asked where the truck was that was
suspended on the side of a building.  He
got a little nervous in the Battery Tunnel but found that pretty compelling as
a structure as well.
I have told both my children more than twenty times or so
how much I loved those old trips to Brooklyn and how I loved watching the Twin
Towers go up but the kind of imagery I hope I am able to convey in the written
word just didn’t do it when I described it verbally.  They didn’t understand the significance of
the rye bread and butter purchasing trips; they live in a world where you can
get anything you like, any time, anywhere. They didn’t understand how seeing
two iconic buildings—now gone—go up week after week was exciting. But they are
older now and building their own memories of our family and thinking of the
things that make us all unique, like how their maternal grandmother shares her
own mother’s funny sense of humor and loves horror shows (all the better to
watch “The Walking Dead” with her grandson); or how they will be able to tell
their children, years from now, that they saw the Freedom Tower being
erected.  Or that they used to visit
Brooklyn to see their mother’s family, once soon after the Battery Tunnel was
flooded after Hurricane Sandy. Or how their mother always spoke of a truck that
was mounted to the side of a building on the West Side Highway. (They aren’t
sure still if they believe me on that one, just as I wasn’t entirely sure that
the model of the man sitting in the front seat wasn’t my grandfather.)
I was thinking about family and memories after reading
Evelyn’s post on Monday about selling her family home and that’s what got me to
write this seemingly thesis-less post about the things I remember and what I
hope my children will remember.  Evelyn
is right—she’ll miss her home but she still has her memories.  And so will her kids, and her wonderful
grandchildren.  These little memories—the
ones that hold close to us, who knows why—are the ones that make every family
unique and special.
What special memories do you have?
Maggie Barbieri