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Friday, November 9, 2012


To honor Veteran's Day, Secret Cravings Publishing is donating half the proceeds from the sale of this military romance anthology to OPERATION: GRATITUDE. 

I'm very lucky to be in the company of such talented authors. The story I wrote, Sweet Love Remembered, gripped my guts in a way few have. It's only 30 pages but it will move you to tears then to joy. Here's a snippet of Sweet Love Remembered:

“Get out of the car.”
“What’d I say?”
“Get out.” Perri shifted the car into drive.
“Look, Perri, the kid’s been gone for five years already. When are you gonna let go?” Ike closed the door but leaned on the open window, in no hurry to leave.
“Mike. The kid’s name was Mike,” Perri said as she peeled out, depressing the gas pedal almost to the floor. “Asshole.”
Perri slowed down when she crossed the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey. She forked right onto the Palisades Parkway, then leaned back against the rich leather seat of her BMW. The drive to Pine Grove was so familiar she could do it in her sleep.
You’d be five today, Mikey. If you had lived. It’s five years since we scattered your ashes in Cedar Lake.
June twenty-second, the day before Mikey’s birthday, was the day of Perri’s annual trip to Pine Grove. She took a shaky breath. SIDS took four-month-old Michael Jessup. The son of Perri and Sergeant Matthew Jessup…once her husband, now her ex. 

Make a $2.50 donation to Operation: Gratitude today by buying this book for $4.99. AMAZON  

A word from Operation: Gratitude 

I know it cannot be said enough but I want you all to know that you are greatly apprciated. I just want to thank each and every one of you who play a   part in this. This the best thing for our military who are deployed. Also those deployed Service Members who  don’t have family and don’t receive   packages, this puts a smile on their faces. This is something truly amazing for all and to know that we have so many people who support and care about what we do. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I know it cannot be said enough but I want you all to know that you are greatly apprciated. Thanks for always keeping us in your prayers and thoughts as you all are in ours as well. May GOD continue to bless you all. Once again a very BIG THANK YOU from all the   Service men and women who have received and will ,continue to receive packages   and love from home. V/R LSC T.L.S.



Thursday, November 8, 2012


Today’s interview is with Ryelee Snyder from Ryelee’s Cowboy by Kathleen Ball
Welcome, ladies. Sit down. I have some coffee and lovely scones here, if you're hungry. Feel free to speak from the heart, Ryelee, it's just us girls here.  Go ahead.
Ryelee: My name is Ryelee Maloney now.
Kathleen:  I know. I just didn’t want to give away too much of the book.
Ryelee: He had to marry me. Clint is a special cowboy.
Kathleen: What I wanted to discuss with you is the misconception that I made your home life too unrealistic.
Ryelee: (laughing) If anything, you made it sound better. I lived in a rundown shack. There were many times I went without food. It was a treat to have running water, and electricity wasn’t a necessity.
Kathleen: So when I wrote that you only had a few change of clothes I wasn’t exaggerating?
Ryelee: Actually, I had less. You did get the color of the dress wrong. It was green.
Kathleen: People believe that family services would have stepped in to help you.
Ryelee: Have you seen how small the town is? We have one stoplight. There aren’t family services, not in these parts. The church people tried to help, but my father ran them off with his rifle.
Kathleen: Were you happy being a nanny to Rhennie Maloney?
Ryelee: She’s a pistol! It was the best day of my life when I met her. It was much harder than I thought it would be. I am educated, but old habits die hard. I had to bite my tongue a lot. Ain’t , damn, and hell are all words I used to use. There are more words but I don’t want our host, Jean Joachim to get upset. I’m hoping she’ll put me in one of her books. No offense.
Kathleen: I thought you said you are happy?
Ryelee: I was only kidding. She doesn’t write westerns, but I do like her new Marine series.
Kathleen: Well, let’s get into the cattle rustling.
Ryelee: I’d rather not. What’s to say? Cattle were rustled, and I got blamed.
Kathleen: Yes but don’t you want to take some ownership of the events.
Ryelee: When did you turn into DR. Phil? Ownership? I’ll tell you this. I do what I have to in order to keep my family safe. I love, and I love deeply. I didn’t think I deserved love, but you know something? My background doesn’t matter one bit to my hunky, cowboy, husband Clint Maloney. Thanks for making him so sexy by the way. 
 Kathleen: I write what I love, and I love sexy cowboys.
Ryelee: Yeah, saw your website. Now those pics I could look at all day. I did want to mention one thing- Ryelee’s Cowboy is filled with suspense. I don’t like the way you market it. I heard suspense sells better.
Kathleen: I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for being my guest and thank you Jean for hosting us.
Ryelee: Yes, Jean, thank you-- I love my husband and I love ranch life but I also love Marines-- call me, we could do lunch. You know, you didn’t mention the kidnapping and how I got away. I would have thought that would have been the first question. 
Kathleen: I don’t want to give away the whole plot. 
Ryelee’s Cowboy by Kathleen Ball is published by Secret Cravings Publishing
Ryelee flinched at the sound of the door slamming. He was gone. There would be no explanations, no forgiveness. His words pierced her heart. She wrapped her arms around the baby. She would figure something out. She always did. Now she wished she had saved her earnings instead of buying Clint that saddle for Christmas. She shook her head. She didn't regret the gift—it was given in love. She just regretted that she was broke.
She didn't relish going upstairs to her old room. She couldn’t face the loneliness of it. It all seemed surreal to her, and she wasn’t sure she had absorbed everything yet. Perhaps she was in shock. That would explain the feeling of numbness that had overcome her.
Ryelee put on her coat and walked out onto the porch. She sat on the first step, looking at the stars, wondering if anyone was looking over her. Texas nights were wonderful. The stars were so bright. She felt incredibly small compared to the massive heavens.
She would have to go home, she reasoned. It was the only place she could afford. Her father was in jail, so she would be alone. Placing her hand on the moving baby, she knew that she would never be alone again. The worst part of the whole mess was her guilt. She should have told Clint about the threats against his horses, but now it was too late now. He would never believe her again.
Ryelee couldn’t face going back into the house, Clint’s house. Looking up at the full moon, she decided she had enough light to walk back home. It wasn’t too far if she went through the woods.
Ryelee stood up and walked down the steps. She couldn’t even bring herself to look back. As the numbness wore off, Ryelee’s heart fractured into infinite pieces. Her footsteps felt as heavy as the emptiness in her chest, and she headed toward the woods.
Once in the woods, it became a great deal darker. Tears blinded her eyes, but she knew the way. Branches scratched at her skin, drawing blood, and she tripped a couple times. Her hands and knees had abrasions, but the baby seemed all right. That was all that mattered.
 The old run-down shack finally came into view. Here she was, right where she’d started. Sadness overwhelmed her spirit as she realized that all her hard work to better herself was for naught. She was pregnant, broke, and living like trash. Dottie had been right about her—she was trampy trash.
With tears pouring down her face, Ryelee walked up the rickety steps to the front door. It bruised her heart to have to open the door, but she did. The offensive odor of sweat and whisky filled the filthy place. She didn’t deserve dignity or pride. This was her own fault, and she had to accept the consequences.
Ryelee flipped the light switch and wasn’t surprised that the electricity had been turned off. That meant no heat either. She lit an old oil lamp and checked the fireplace. She praised God when she saw the pile of wood next to it. She wouldn’t freeze, not tonight. Nevertheless, she was in dire circumstances.
She dragged her old mattress from her bedroom to the fireplace. Grabbing a few clean threadbare blankets, she made herself as comfortable as possible. Exhausted and heartsick, Ryelee wiped away her tears and decided she would find a way to survive.
Available on 
To visit Kathleen's website, CLICK HERE.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012


1Come sit down, Siobhan. Have a cup of coffee or tea and chat with us for a while.  How about a piece of coconut cake? Now, let me ask you a few questions before we get to your latest book.
1) How old were you when you knew you wanted to become a writer?
Hmm… first grade, so I guess about six years old. I liked books before that, but it wasn’t until after I really learned to write that I realized I was destined for a literary life. Being able to actually use words instead of pretending that I was writing made all the difference in the world.
2)     What did you do for a living in your “previous” life?
My “previous” life still bleeds over into my writer life. I’m a full-time administrative assistant for the local water company. I also do a bit of freelance writing for the local newspaper and some days I even do some independent desktop publishing and digital graphic design. It isn’t much but it pays the bills and puts food on the table.
3)     Do you have a family?
I do! I’m married (five years on November 3, as a matter of fact!) with a seventeen-year-old step-daughter and a nine-month old little girl of my own. Oh, and two obnoxiously opinionated cats, a giant guinea pig and a host of wildlife that likes my fruit trees in my yard.
4)     What do your closest relatives thinking of your writing career?
My mother, even though she doesn’t always agree with the subject matter, supports me 100%. The rest of my family are just hoping I make it big so they can say they know someone famous. And borrow money.
5)     What genre do you write?
Paranormal and Contemporary Romance. Some of it is sweet and some of it is a bit more on the adult side, but there’s always a happy ending. I also write urban fantasy, sci-fi and horror under another name, but we’re not going to implicate my other personalities here.
6)     Are you a plotter or a pantser?
I’m a hybrid. I generate loose plot outlines but by the end of the story I’m usually in another universe entirely from where I started. Plots tend to grow where they’re not welcome, which turns my stuff into something entirely different than I intended. Every now and then I’ll follow an outline start to finish, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take crazy side-trips.
7)     Do your characters ever take over when you’re writing?
All the time. They chatter constantly, and if I do something wrong or don’t do it fast enough, they are absolutely certain to let me know.  And if I give them prompts? Oh, it’s really on then. If they have subjects to talk about, they’re going to talk at great length whether I want them to or not…usually over the top of each other, too. Sometimes it gets really noisy in my head and I have to walk away.
8)     Do you get inspiration from real people or places?
Occasionally. The personality traits of people I know tend to end up in my characters – I like showcasing the strengths of my friends on paper. As for real places, most definitely. My defined settings are all places I’ve been at some point in my life. It’s easier for me to relate to characters and settings when I know them well.
9)      Do you do a lot of editing before you submit a manuscript?
Surprisingly, no… not really. Most of my editing is done during the actual writing. I’ve been accused of writing two drafts at one time because I can’t stand to just let things go. I write a few pages, then self-edit before continuing. If plot points are added I have to stop what I’m doing and go fix the important scenes before moving forward. I also can’t write in blocks like some people because I have to have a continuous idea start to finish or I get confused. It gives me a very clean first draft, which means I usually only need one read-through to fix minor things before I submit.
Now some personal questions (please feel free to elaborate) :
1)     Chocolate or vanilla?
I like the soft-serve swirl with both. J
2)     Do you listen to music when you write? What do you listen to?
I can’t write without music. As to what, it depends on what I’m writing. If it’s a fight scene, then loud, angry music is best. For love scenes, I’m really bad about either country or eighties love songs. I have a different playlist for each story, and each one is wildly eclectic. I have everything from Alison Krauss to Slipknot and back.
3)     Favorite color?
4)     Black, white or gray?
To wear, black. Regarding writing, gray, because it means I can get away with more. For digital imaging I prefer transparent over white.
5)     Favorite ice cream flavor?
Mint chocolate chip.
6)     Favorite line of description from one of your books.
Actually it’s a paragraph – from Mocha Memories, my short, steamy story from Mocha Memoirs Press:
Moonlight streamed through the plate glass windows, bathing the loft apartment with a soft, ethereal glow. Deep shadows lurked behind brilliant highlights of white-blue light, throwing the dimensions of the open rooms off by what appeared to be miles. Michael stood in the doorway of the bedroom and watched her – her long, lean body swaying from side to side as she moved around the kitchen. She was a goddess in the dark, her rich, nut-brown skin shimmering silver as she danced on air-light feet across the pale marble tile.

7)     Favorite minor character from your book.
Good question. Probably Cera, the best friend in Marked.  She’s actually going to make an appearance in the sequel to Marked, which is going to be called Ripped. She’s a statuesque African-American woman who has a wicked sense of humor and seems to be the only voice of reason in the madness that is my version of upper-crust werewolf society in New Orleans. She does her best to keep Tabitha grounded, which doesn’t always work, and she won’t hesitate to call a werewolf down for being a fool.
8)     Dog or cat?
Both. I grew up with dogs, but I have cats now. I don’t know if it counts but there are two dogs that come to visit all the time – a boston terrier named Phillip (she’s cute, too. Yes, Phillip is a girl) and a big Lab / Rottweiler mix that thinks he’s a puppy. I don’t know his name, but he’s a sweetie.
9)     Country or city?
Country. I would much rather be away from the hubbub of everyday life.
10) Beach or mountains?
Do I have to pick? Can’t I have a beach in the mountains? That would make me very happy even if it is completely illogical and a logistical nightmare!
11) Early morning or late night?
I’m a night owl, but my nine-month-old is a very early riser. By default, I’m now a morning person, and I’m not very happy about it.
 A Bit About the Book

Kelly Ray Patrick is a sweet, southern girl who has never been lucky, either in finances or in love.  But as the recent co-recipient of a lottery jackpot, she and her friends have set out on a Valentines-themed singles cruise in the hope of relaxing and meeting Mr. Right.  Only, to Kelly Ray’s surprise, Mr. Right appears to be her best friend, Dominic James.  Nic appears to be feeling the effects of the trip as well, and has discovered his own interest in Kelly Ray.
The only thing stopping them:  their friend, Trevor, who has been carrying a torch for Kelly Ray since they were all kids.  Will respect for that friendship be enough to stem the budding relationship, or will they throw caution to the wind and indulge in their desires?
A Snippet from the book

Being with Nic was so easy; so natural. It was like they’d known each other forever. In a way, they had. She knew everything there was to know about him, and he about her. They were best friends, and had been since the day their bicycles collided in front of her house. But when his arms went around her and he pulled her flush against him, every bit of easy energy went out the window.
The song changed but Kelly Ray barely noticed. She stared up into Nic’s eyes, and what she saw both frightened and excited her. He was a man on fire, burning from the inside with desire. So many times she’d read descriptions of that look, that hungry, feral look of barely-contained, raw need, but she never thought she’d see it, least of all in the eyes of her best friend.
He wanted her.
(Wow! I gotta read this one. Phew, turn up the fan!)

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