Tag: Ancient Blood

http://www.shelfari.com/authorbarbara_edwards

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Check out my paranormal romances:

Blurb:

In Ancient Awakening, Police Officer ‘Mel’ Petersen investigates a death only she believes is murder. By disobeying direct orders from the Rhodes End Chief, she risks her career to follow clues that twist in circles to her backyard and lead the killer to her.

Her neighbor Stephen Zoriak is a prime suspect. Steve worked for a major pharmaceutical company where he discovered a weapon so dangerous he destroys the research. He is exposed to the dangerous organism. He suspects he is the killer and agrees to help her find the truth.

In the course of their investigation Mel and Steve find the real killer and a love that defies death.

Blurb: Ancient Blood

Lily Alban escapes a murderous stalker, but his vicious attack leaves her with the ability to see auras. She finds safety in the tiny hamlet of Rhodes End where a stranger stands out like a red light. Try as she might to deny her growing desire for Cole, she seeks his help but soon discovers the man she loves is not a man at all.

Werewolf Cole Benedict resists his attraction to Lily. A botanist researching the healing herbs to find a cure for Lycanthropy, he’s determined to protect Lily from her stalker as well as himself even in human form, but instinct takes over when he changes to his inner beast.

Together they must use their extraordinary gifts to catch Lily’s stalker before he attacks again, but revealing their secrets to one another could destroy their growing love or save them both.

Timeline for my manuscript by Barbara Edwards

Time can be as important as any character in a story. Over the years I’ve read anything from an entire novel that occurred during twenty-four hours to sagas that move through hundreds of years. The author’s job is to make the plot flow smoothly from beginning to end.

My mistake with book three of my Rhodes End was neglecting to keep a timeline as I’ve been writing. I have a lot of excuses. I tried a method of writing scenes as they occurred to me instead of in sequence. With my final edits underway I have to work them in.

Ooops, where does that fit go? Transitions are needed as well as more scenes.

I also had to deal with my husband’s heart attack and its aftermath. I wrote scenes on my Alphasmart in the waiting room or while he slept. They needed to be plugged in.

So here I am with a surprisingly ragged manuscript. Usually when I’m this far along, the work has been edited in an on-going process.

So I am making a timeline. I need to note time, place, weather, who’s there, points covered and anything else I think important.

It’s almost like writing another book.

The only benefit is doing more edits as I read.

While you’re waiting for Book Three, here’s more about Ancient Awakening

Book One: Rhodes End Series — Ancient Awakening

In the course of their investigation Mel and Steve find the real killer and a love that defies death.

Excerpt:

“Don’t touch me, Mel, not unless you’re willing to do a lot more,” he warned as her hazel eyes flared golden.

“Don’t threaten me, Steve. You’re…”

He pulled her into his arms despite the alarm bells clanging in his head.

Danger! Danger! Danger!

Her widened eyes met his. Mel’s hands were trapped against his chest, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt.

Her mistake. His mistake was to crush her mouth under his.

Mel’s soft lips parted. Need exploded. The taste of black coffee didn’t hide her sweet flavor. As her tongue tangled with his, her arms slid around his neck and her fingers burrowed through his hair.

Steve hungered to peel the starched shirt off her soft shoulders, lay her on the thick turf and ease his desire. He tasted her brows, her cheek, along her throat, seeking the source of her call. Her pulse whipped under his mouth, awakening another need.

His teeth gently closed on the vulnerable vein.

He wanted, wanted, wanted…

Cold alarm chilled his pounding blood.

Steve gasped for air. He’d forgotten his own ironclad rule. Mel’s eyelids flittered open to reveal the molten glow of desire but he forced himself free.

He had no right to touch any woman. Not until he knew he hadn’t become what he had set out to destroy.

Blog Site: https://barbaraedwardscomments.wordpress.com

Ancient Blood http://on.fb.me/naHRY5

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/barbaraedwards

Email: author@barbaraedwards.net

Buy hyperlink Ancient Awakening http://www.wildrosepress.us/maincatalog/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=177_136&products_id=4511

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B002TG4NFG

Ghostly bride haunts cemetery by Barbara Edwards

Haunted cemetery features ghost of bride should be the description of most creepy stories. I decided to be logical about the over-abundance of dead young brides if there is any kind of logic to deciphering deadly tales.

My opinion is that there aren’t more brides fluttering over gravestones than any other demographic.

So what causes the stories?

In times past burial was a simpler matter. Wash the body, cloth than wrap in a shroud or winding sheet, put in a wooden box (this is if there was someone to build it in the time left), dig a hole and insert remains. Cover with dirt.

Now comes the interesting part.

The body decomposed. TaDa- gas is released. At night this could appear to be a mist or cloud rising from the grave. Thus anyone passing the cemetery at night might be treated to a scary sight.

Imagination would provide the identity in a small town where everyone knows who was the most recent person to die.

Would you expect to see the actual person or a misty form floating near the grave?

My favorite local story is in a Harwinton Cemetery and she is called The Green Lady. The story says the Green lady was murdered by her husband on their wedding night. He threw her body into the swamp bordering the cemetery and claimed she ran off. This was in a time when the settlers were sparse, the graves few in number and the area not well-traveled.

Since then the area has been populated, the old cemetery expanded to hold hundreds of graves and a major highway passes close by. The swamp still exists due to inland-wetland preservation.

My two sons went there one dark night near Halloween to check her out. They parked the car and walked in, daring each other and talking the trash boys exchange when trying to scare each other.

I don’t know what they saw.

A green light floated over the swamp. Growing brighter, larger, it drifted toward them. They ran like rabbits and almost blew the tires speeding out of there.

They were laughing by the time they got home, but they did say ‘no’ when I wanted to go there, too.

Do you have a scary story?

Read my paranormal romances, Ancient Awakening and Ancient Blood for some frightening scenes.

Please visit me, Friend, follow or Tweet. I love to hear from you.

Author Website: http://barbaraedwards.net

Blog Site: https://barbaraedwardscomments.wordpress.com

Ancient Blood http://on.fb.me/naHRY5

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/barbaraedwards

A repeat visit to Bar Harbor, Maine by Barbara Edwards

Bar Harbor, Maine has changed since our last visit.

Five years ago we camped at Acadia National Park for a week. Dry camping is a challenge, but well worth it for the wonderful access to the rugged Maine coastline.

Bar Harbor is a typical resort area with large private residences nestled so far into the woods you can’t see them. It stars waterfront properties with all types of boats at anchor. In the intervening years, cruise ships have increased stops. The response from the

Cruise, 9-26-2012 015 — Barbara Edwards on Main ST, Bar harbor

town is a pretty new marina area and easy access to the small shops run by local business people. Despite the increased traffic, the people are friendly and helpful.

I drove my husband crazy reminding him I wanted to buy a piece of watermelon tourmaline. If you’re not familiar with gemstones, you don’t know about Tourmaline. It comes in lots of different colors and makes beautiful jewelry. I coveted the watermelon: striped with green, white and bright pink. I never saw it anywhere else for good reason. It’s a local stone and the artisans here are smart enough not to share.

Cruise, 9-26-2012 062 — Family dining of fresh Maine lobster

We spent the day, had a fresh Maine lobster for lunch and returned to the ship. The leaves hadn’t changed color last week, but I bet a trip up the New England coast now will show glorious views.

I set my paranormal romances in New England because I love it so much. Does it show?
Visit me, Friend me, Follow or Tweet. I’d love to hear from you.

Author Website: //https:www.barbaraedwards.net

Ancient Blood http://on.fb.me/naHRY5

http://www.amazon.com/Ancient-Blood-Finding-Rhodes-ebook/dp/B0052NUR12/

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/barbaraedwards

Email: author@barbaraedwards.net

Book Cover — Paranormal romance by Barbara Edwards

Buy hyperlink Ancient Awakening http://www.wildrosepress.us/maincatalog/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=177_136&products_id=4511

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B002TG4NFG

Rhodes End Series: Book Two — Ancient Blood,

Buy hyperlink Ancient Blood http://www.wildrosepress.us/maincatalog/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=177_136&products_id=4511

Kindle

Another Love: Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Another-Love-Barbara-Edwards/dp/1590888332/

Every family is dysfunctional.

Every family is dysfunctional. That’s my opinion after becoming a die-hard people watcher. How do you measure the odd behavior of people, especially behind closed doors.

I recently remarked on my feelings and got an argument from a close friend who declares her family is normal. There is nothing remarkable about anyone in her large family. Of course, you have to eliminate the aunts who didn’t talk for years but have since made-up. The drug-addict cousins don’t count either since they went on the wagon with the alcoholic uncle who beat his first and second wife until they divorced him. No-one is in jail right now either.

Are you laughing? I did bite back a smile and nod in agreement since I like her.

My own family is a prime example of ‘normal’. No-one aired dirty linen in public when I was growing up. The heavily drinking uncles who had a mean streak after too many, the aunt who divorced four husbands, the cousin who stole a car or the pregnant fifteen year old all were kept in the family closet.

Now people publish all this stuff on FaceBook or MySpace without a qualm and others read it and accept the dysfunction as regular business.

Why do I care? I guess I want to understand. Why does an abused wife stay with that creep? Why does a person choose to get lost in drugs? Or the opposite: why does an addict decide a sober life is worth fighting for?

Every action needs to make sense to me. That comes from plotting and writing stories about people. My hero has a reason for loving to run. My heroine has a reason to be afraid of being followed. So I study those around me. I take that tiny scrap of over-heard conversation and build a whole background for the speaker.

Do I use what I learn? Gosh, I wish I could but so much is a tiny fragment of the puzzle. Do you see the hidden parts of those around you?

Visit my website: http://www.barbaraedwards.net

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In the course of their investigation Mel and Steve find the real killer and a love that defies death.

Excerpt:

“Don’t touch me, Mel, not unless you’re willing to do a lot more,” he warned as her hazel eyes flared golden.

“Don’t threaten me, Steve. You’re…”

He pulled her into his arms despite the alarm bells clanging in his head.

Danger! Danger! Danger!

Her widened eyes met his. Mel’s hands were trapped against his chest, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt.

Her mistake. His mistake was to crush her mouth under his.

His teeth gently closed on the vulnerable vein.

He wanted, wanted, wanted…

Cold alarm chilled his pounding blood.

Steve gasped for air. He’d forgotten his own ironclad rule. Mel’s eyelids flittered open to reveal the molten glow of desire but he forced himself free.

He had no right to touch any woman. Not until he knew he hadn’t become what he had set out to destroy.

Barbara Edwards

The Wild Rose Press: Ancient Awakening, a Black Rose

www.barbaraedwards.net

Available on Kindle

Building readership following

When I wrote my first book I didn’t even know about readers. I wasn’t worried about those vague future participants in my success. I wasn’t thinking in terms of number of books sold, but in getting the darn thing written and published. I spent months writing my manuscript.

Then I put my hours into finding a publisher. When I say hours I mean hundreds of hours before the call came.

Whoopee! Someone out there thought my book worth putting on the market.

Then came the edits. Oh boy, who knew that that wonderful person who loved my story was so picky? My editor wanted the grammar correct, the plot to flow smoothly, the characters to be consistent, the dialogue to make sense. More months spent on rewrites and edits.

All of this is to please the reader. And I thought my book was perfect when the editor offered a contract.

To get to the point: readers.

Readers buy books. Since my book is so good, I knew it will fly out the door. Hah. A few friends bought it. A few more read the great reviews and bought it. Then nada. I did book signings and sold more. Sold a bunch at the Romantic Times convention.

I needed a way to reach readers. The next move was a website, only someone had my name on hers. Turns out she was an exotic dancer. Sigh. Didn’t exactly drive readers to my site. I added free reads and buy links. I persisted since all my friends and family owned a copy and I really needed to find more.

For a time I became lost in the world of cyber promotion. Do you realize how much time you can waste on the web? That writing time is lost forever when it could be used on the next book instead.

I went on FaceBook, Yahoo groups, Goodreads, Shelfari, Twitter, posting my profile and book information everywhere I could find. Sales hiccup with each action.

Then I had the AHAH moment. Another author said, you need to write more books. Each book adds more readers. It’s called a geometric progression in fancy language.

This was what I really wanted to hear. Write, write, write. So I wrote and published several more books. The giant leap didn’t happen. A steady climb, but not huge.

The point is still readers. My publishers are great, supportive and helpful, but they can’t add readers. I get my name out there.

A part of me is still the hermit writer huddled over my laptop, but another part is the media mogul spending part of each day inviting readers to learn more about me, like what they learn and be interested enough to buy my books.

Visit me at: http://www.barbaraedwards.net

Ancient Blood http://on.fb.me/naHRY5

Twitter: http://twitter.com/barb_ed

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/barbaraedward

Do you have psychic ability?

I’m truly curious about how many authors can claim psychic abilities. I’m going to be on a panel addressing this area and woke this morning wondering if I have to admit I have some psychic talent.

It’s like rattling my closet skeletons. I’m so nervous. People will think I’m weird. I’ll be pointed at on the street and have to move or change my name. Boy, am I going off on a tangent.

Writers are the most accepting people in the world. We understand what makes people different and value all the quirks. It all adds to the characters and plot we create.

I use psychic abilities to round out my characters, but it’s usually a secondary part of their personality. Annie knows her child is threatened. Rachel senses her twin’s feelings. That’s recorded and researched ability. Lily sees auras, but not on everyone or even when it will reveal the villain.

I don’t share those talents, but I do know how it feels to have that unexplainable episode occur. I am puzzled, even confused. For a minute I question why the people around me didn’t see or hear that ‘other’. I always have a lag time. My reality has to accept the unreality as real.

Confusing? Oh yes. I think my mother had a talent, too, but she died young and I didn’t know enough to ask. She always explained to me that it was all right. I remember once waking from a vivid dream of a recently deceased person who grabbed my arm. I had a finger pattern of bruises on my bicep. Mom said I was the only one she could reach and to pray for her soul. Scary now that I look back.

I have vivid dreams that sometimes do come true. I also dream my story before I start writing. Along with a few other things I didn’t mention.

Let me know what you think. Do you use psychic abilities is your stories? Do you have one?

On my website are tidbits and urls to reviews for my books.

Author Website: http://barbaraedwards.net

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