

Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
My name is Tiffany Fier, but I write under T.J. Fier. By day I’m an associate professor of set design at NDSU, and I write when I can around my hectic professorial schedule. I have several short stories in several anthologies, and my debut novel has recently been released: THE BRIGHT ONE.
What does your writing process look like?
Each project is a little different. Sometimes I put together a detailed outline primarily to get to know my characters better. Other times I pants my way through a story. Or, especially with short stories, I’ll give myself a few guiding notes and plot points and work the story around those ideas.
Does writing energize or exhaust you?
Depends on the project and the task at hand. Sometimes it’s incredibly energizing, and sometimes, it’s not. Sometimes the story pours out, and sometimes you need to drag it out by its ears.
What genre are your books and what draws you to this genre?
I oscillate between contemporary fantasy, dark fantasy, paranormal fantasy, urban fantasy, and horror. There is a dark undercurrent to most of my writing. It’s just how I’m wired. However, I often try to throw in a touch of irreverence to my stories or a bit of humor to keep the mood from sinking too deep.
What are your current projects?
Too many! My debut novel, The Bright One was recently released by my publisher Three Little Sisters. It’s a contemporary sci-fi/fantasy adventure with a surly unicorn named Una. I have a short story in a recently-released anthology, Seasons in the Dark, from Bisman Writers Guild. I’m reviewing edits on another short story for the second Moorhead Friends Writing Group anthology. I’m sharing the sequel to The Bright One with some of my writing group AND another story of mine is in the beta-reading phase of review.
How do you relax?
I read, hang out with furry friends, and curl up on the couch with one of my favorite “comfort shows.”
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
You get better the more you write. Also, having a critique partner or a writing group has been vital to my progression as a writer. Surround yourself with a support system. It takes lots of time, patience, and hard work to have success with writing.
Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
Check out my linktree:
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
From the end of Chapter One of The Bright One:
“Holy crap.”
The beast flicked a lion-like tail with a cascading plume of white hair. Long enough so strands brushed the floor. The hair shimmered fine as silk threads and light refracted off flaxen curls. A radiant blue eyes stared back at her with a mixture of fear and defiance.
Alexa’s head seemed to disconnect from her body, unable to process what stood before her. She refused to accept the creature and backed away, heart racing beneath her trembling fingers.
The smeared light couldn’t manipulate the shape she had seen, nor could it change the animal in anything but what stood before her.
It was a unicorn.
A real, live unicorn.
My short story “Chill of the Reaper” will be in the BisMan Writers Guild’s Seasons in the Dark Anthology. This is my second short story in an Anthology, but my first with The BisMan Writers Guild. Here’s some more information.
Title: Chill of the Reaper part of the “Seasons in the Dark” Anthology
Author: Tina Holland
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: December 1, 2022
Publisher: BisMan Writers Guild
Blurb:
Daredevil Daisy Heyer is dead, stuck on earth, and avoiding a persistent reaper who’s been chasing her through the centuries. Being a ghost sucks but it’s better than hell. Daisy had been a bad girl in the Wild West and she has no guarantee which direction the reaper will take her.
Simon Travers has been a reaper for over one hundred and twenty-five years. He’s successfully brought every soul to heaven or hell, except Daisy Heyer. She was his first and the one that got away. He has time though, because once dead there is no going back.
After a spell is cast making Daisy flesh and blood, will she stay on earth or feel the Chill of the Reaper?
Excerpt:
Daisy woke with a kink in her neck. Weird. She stretched on the sofa. Wait! She didn’t sleep or get kinks. She shot straight up. Too fast, she realized, when a pounding started in her head. She placed her left hand on her temple, willing it to stop. “Collette!”
Colette came running down the basement stairs. “Holy craft. You’re flesh and blood.”
Daisy didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm. “Really? I hadn’t noticed. What did you do?”
Colette looked at the beige carpet as if fascinated by a non-existent pattern.
Daisy tapped her boot on the carpet. “Well?”
The witch pinched her index finger and thumb together. “I may have tweaked Nana’s spell a bit.”
She threw her hands up. “A bit!?”
Colette crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “I just wanted you to find true love.”
“True love?” Daisy suddenly felt a great desire to go back to sleep.
“Yeah. I’ve given you forty-eight hours in mortal form.”
“Collette, I haven’t been mortal in a hundred and twenty-five years. What the hell am I supposed to do in two days?” She was suddenly anxious to return to her former self.
“Daisy, if you find true love, your soul won’t be bound for hell.”
“I get into heaven?” Could she after all these years?
“I’m not a hundred percent certain, but my research clearly indicated a soul could not go to hell if it felt love.”
“Anything to not go to hell.” Daisy hadn’t lived the best life. She had been an independent woman of the west and rather than earn money in easier ways, she’d taken to a life of crime. “Okay, so how do I find true love?”
“Well, first we need to change your wardrobe.”
Daisy looked down. She was wearing the clothes she’d died in, with a crimson starburst pattern on her chest and her six-shooter strapped to her hip. A change was definitely in order. “I’ve always wanted to be a blonde.”
Buy Links: Amazon
About the Author:
Tina studied Journalism at University and then went to work for a fortune 500 company working in Logistics for over 20 years. She now writes full-time and helps her husband run his Crop Dusting business in the summer months. When she’s not writing she likes to travel, read and spend time with her critters.
Social Media Links:
Website – www.tinaholland.com
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/author.tina.holland
Twitter – https://twitter.com/haveubeenaughty
Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/tina_holland
Pinterest – https://www.pinterest.com/haveubeenaughty
To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the approbation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty; To find the best in others; To give of one’s self; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; To have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived – This is to have succeeded. — Ralph Waldo Emerson
Hope is the feeling you have that the feeling you have isn’t permanent. – Jean Kerr
Title: Tales From the Frozen North Anthology featuring “Snow by any other Name,” by Tina Holland
Series: A Brave the Elements Short Story
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: Kindle Anthology March 15th.
Editor: Robin Pope Cain
Cover Artist: Anthology Tiffany Fier
Blurb:
Holly Frost has a problem. She can’t make it snow in Innocent, Minnesota. As a descendent of Jack Frost, she should be natural, but something is very wrong. She needs help so she goes to Sheriff Andy Finn.
Andy Finn is a grouchy, not-yet hibernating bear shifter. All he wants is for the snow to fly so he can get some sleep, but it’s forty degrees in December. When Holly Frost approaches him for help, he sets aside his dislike of the Frost family and does his job by taking her to a powerful elemental.
Excerpt:
Sheriff Andy Finn watched as trouble—AKA Holly Frost—made her way towards him. What did the woman want? Why did she look as if she had him in her sights? All he wanted was to manage this town of shifters and humans and make sure everyone got along. Having the fae parked in his backyard didn’t help, and he didn’t want to tangle with them any more than necessary.
Andy had a job to do, and he did not need the distraction of Holly. It was bad enough he was still awake. As a bear shifter, he needed to hibernate, but his clock was off until the weather dropped below thirty-two degrees. It was nowhere near freezing, not even a frost—unless he counted the Frost standing in front of him.
“Sheriff,” Holly sounded out of breath. “I need your help.”
Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09T3N12GG/
About the Author:
Tina studied journalism at University and then went to work for a fortune 500 company working Logistics for over 20 years. She now writes full-time and helps her husband run his Crop Dusting business in the summer months. When she’s not writing she likes to travel, read and spend time with her farm critters.
Social Media Links:
Website – www.tinaholland.com
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/author.tina.holland
Twitter – https://twitter.com/haveubeenaughty
Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/tina_holland
Pinterest – https://www.pinterest.com/haveubeenaughty
Author Central – https://www.amazon.com/Tina-Holland/e/B003OLKLA6?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2&qid=1647117774&sr=1-2
Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
I’m a born and bred military brat turned military wife, a Texas Longhorn forever, and California is my soul’s home. I have a clinical doctorate in Audiology and by day work for a global hearing amplification company. By night, once my kiddos are in bed, I read, write, and create new worlds. I was chosen for PitchWars in 2016, landed my agent with a different manuscript in 2019, and my debut novel REVOLUTIONARY LOVE came out August 23, 2021. I’m also a die-hard Oxford comma supporter and will never give it up!
How do you make time to write?
I don’t sleep! Kidding…kind of. I do primarily write in the evenings after my kids are in bed. I’m not much of a morning person. I also take time on weekends to carve out a few hours and when I take the occasional work trip (pre-pandemic) I also snag the extra alone time for writing, too.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
Yes!! I’m a pantser by nature so writer’s block can be a bit tricky. I’ve learned to use a very loose outline to help have at least a vague idea where I’m going with a story, and I’ve also learned it’s okay to skip sections or simply put [INSERT SCENE HERE] and circle back later. The main thing to keep in mind is don’t let it stop you from finishing your story!
Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.
I write Romance! Contemporary, paranormal, historical – as long as it has love and an HEA I’m here for it! My debut novel is a historical romance set during the American Revolutionary War, I have a contemporary romance on sub, and am drafting a romance with light paranormal elements. My PitchWars manuscript is a YA paranormal romance that I hope will one day see bookshelves, too. I am a sucker for a good love story and I *have* to have a happy ending! Uncertain or sad endings are not my jam. I go into writing (and reading!) with the excitement of seeing how my MCs are going end up happily together!
How are you publishing your recent book and why?
My first book was published through Champagne Book Group and it was a great experience! As with many authors, I hope to land a deal with one of the big five and their imprints one day, but the Indie route was great for having easy and quick communication, one-on-one attention and mentoring, and CBG has been a great group to launch with!
Are you an Introvert or Extrovert? How does this affect your work?
Introvert for sure! Writing is a great way for me to recharge and have alone time while still getting the vibes of spending time with friends. I always know I’m writing the right plot idea when my characters feel real to me and I look forward to my writing time to see what happens next!
What is your favorite motivational phrase?
“Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.” – Maya Angelou
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
Keep writing!! Keep writing, keep querying, and keep participating in mentor contests and Twitter parties. Keep going with all the things and YOU WILL BE SUCCESSFUL!
Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
Website/Blog: https://www.cassscotka.com
Twitter: @CScotka; https://twitter.com/CScotka
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cass.scotka/
Instagram: @cassscotkawrites; https://www.instagram.com/cassscotkawrites/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2129915.Cass_Scotka
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
“This world?” A small shake of her head set the moonlight shimmering in her dark tresses. “As if we are living in two different places.”
His voice turned hard. “We are. You have no idea what I’ve seen. What I’ve done in this blasted war.” He released her arm and looked away, afraid his sins would somehow show on his face.
She touched his shoulder, but he refused to meet her eyes. “And you’ve no idea what I’ve seen and endured. The British soldiers in New York…they are not kind or decent men. I’ve seen how prisoners are treated. I’ve firsthand experience in how they treat women. Whatever you’ve done, the soldiers I know you’ve killed in battle, is all for the greater good of America.”
He spun back to her, eyes flashing. “You don’t know what I’ve done! I murder men, Verity. Murder. Not fight in battle, but sit atop hills and cliffs three hundred yards away with my long rifle and shoot men without warning. They have no means to fight back against me. They never see me coming. My sharpshooting skills are exceptional and I’ve been singled out as Washington’s private killer.” His chest heaved from the force of his breathing. Hands shaking with rage and regret, he balled them into fists. “Go to bed.”
Stay. God, he wanted her to stay, but he’d stain her sweet innocence. He wasn’t worthy of her attention. Not when she discovered—
“Oh, you are too hardheaded!” She snarled with all the ire of a wet kitten. Plunking her hands on her hips, she scowled. Theo choked back his guffaw at the indignation she displayed. Even angry, she was delightfully charming. Her jaw clenched tighter, brows lowered a fraction more, and her eyes burned.
Unease stirred within him. Perhaps he’d underestimated her vexation. “Don’t you dare patronize me.” She stepped closer so they were chest to chest. Her chin tilted up to keep their stares locked. “You believe General Washington is so morally corrupt he’d use someone as a trained killer on a whim?”
“No, but—”
She sliced a hand through the air. “Tell me, these men you’ve shot from afar, were they key soldiers leading troops into battle?”
“Yes, but—”
She poked a finger into his chest. “Did their deaths mean swift victories for the Continental Army without additional bloodshed?”
“Most of the time, but—”
“Then you saved lives, you daft man! By working with Washington to choose when and whom to target, you are saving countless American and British soldiers from death on the battlefield. I spent one dinner with the general and I know without qualms he is the very best of men. His Excellency would not be our chosen leader if he did not inspire unwavering trust in his decisions for the good of our country.”
Theo blinked while his mind whirled over her words. A few points were fair, but still these men did not have the hope of fighting back against him. They did not see their deaths coming at his hands. “They could not fight back! The soldiers I’ve murdered did not even know from which direction death struck.”
A frustrated growl filled the air and Verity stamped her foot. “As is so for most of us. Not everyone is fortuitous enough to see Death approach and have an option to fight back. People die every day and there is nothing to stop it. My father is proof. Redcoats dragged him from our field without warning. Tortured him for information. Beat him when he refused to pledge allegiance to the king. Hanged him and burned our home to the ground. All while I cried and begged for mercy. The only mercy I found was when they left me to spread the news of what happens to so-called traitors.” Theo’s eyes grew round as horror swept through him. The strength she held inside her tiny frame. It shamed him further to think of how he hid from afar behind his gun. His teeth ground together. He was a worthless coward. A worthless coward who could not provide her the life she so deserved.
Her face softened. Shaking her head, she lifted a hand to his cheek. “You cannot blame yourself. No matter what your mind tells you, you are a good man.”
Theo jerked his head away from her touch, afraid to sully her. “You are too naive, Verity.”
“Stop treating me as a child. I am a full-grown woman, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Before he registered it, Theo reached out and swept her into his arms so their bodies touched from chest to thigh. “I am all too aware you are no longer a child.” He shifted his hips against her belly and she gasped as his erection pressed
there. “There is no mistaking your lush female curves.”
Their eyes locked and held. In the moonlight, he saw her pupils enlarge, her pulse flutter at her throat, and the small parting of her lips as her breathing quickened. Her body softened and relaxed into his embrace. “Theo,” she whispered and the tip of her tongue peeked out to wet her lips.
Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
I was born and raised in Saskatchewan, Canada, and I live there with my husband and three girls ranging in ages from 3 to 10 year old. I’m a coffee addict and a Mine-craft junkie, and I adore spending time with my family, especially at the
lake.
I love writing books infused with humor, mystery, and steam. My series, the Wickwood Chronicles, is set in the fictional
town of Wickwood where the unexpected keeps happening. Book three in the series, Ghost of a Summoning, will be
coming out on September 14th, and it’s all about a prophecy that needs to be stopped or the gates of hell will be opened on Earth. (It’s funny too, I swear!)
How do you make time to write?
I wake up early in the morning and join the #5amwritersclub on Twitter. Sometimes it’s hard to make myself roll out of
bed and sometimes I wake up before my alarm. It’s the best time for me to write because everyone else in my house is
asleep and I find I’m the most productive in the morning.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
I think writer’s block can be attributed to either a lack or inspiration or a lack of motivation. If you really want to, you can
get around those. The biggest dry spell I had with my writing was because of depression. It took a while, but I got back
into my routine a step at a time. Even if I sat down and only wrote fifty words, I did it daily, and eventually returned to my regular pace.
When I feel a lack of inspiration, I read a lot. I’ll return to old favorites, or binge on something new.
Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.
I write paranormal romance, and I absolutely love ALL romance. Paranormal is especially exciting because I love
mythology and the fantastical paired with high stakes and spice.
How are you publishing your recent book, Ghost of an Enchantment, and why?
I’m with a small press called City Owl Press, and I love being one of their authors. They’re supportive and energetic and I
hope to be working with them for a long time yet.
Are you an Introvert or Extrovert? How does this affect your work?
I’m an extroverted introvert. I like meeting new people, but it can be draining, and I have no problem spending time on
my own. I think my biggest challenge is on social media. It’s hard for me to connect with new people, but I work at it a
little bit at a time.
What is your favorite motivational phrase?
Let’s do this!
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
Reach out to people in the writing community and make connections. Other authors can be some of your greatest allies,
and you’ll never know what opportunities might come up.
Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
Lots of places! My website and newsletter sign up at https://www.jemcdonald.net/
And here are my social media links:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JEMcDonaldAuthor/?modal=admin_todo_tour
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JEMcdonaldSk
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jemcdonaldsk/
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
I’d love to! This is the beginning of Ghost of a Gamble, the first book in the Wickwood Chronicles.
Her tote bag hitched on her shoulder, Bree picked up her pace as she weaved in and out of the early morning shoppers.
Late. Late. Late. So damn late. One or two hours she could get away with. But three? Even Theo couldn’t be that
forgiving. Could he?
The eviction notice she’d found on her door that morning burned a hole in her back pocket. Trying not to dwell on it, she
trotted through the bustling morning crowd of old downtown. She skirted around a young family, then bumped into a
man with a camera pointed at the clock tower.
“Sorry!” she shouted as she dodged between a dog and bicycle, breezing past the advertisement board. Her short jog
finished in front of Theodore’s Bakery.
Bree inhaled the scent of fresh baked bread and thrust open the door. Chimes tinkled overhead. A line of customers
snaked through the shop, every table full with coffee-drinking, scone-eating patrons.
“Hey, Fran,” she said as she rushed to toss her tote bag on the back counter and grab her apron.
Behind the cash register, a harried Fran, her white hair coming out of her bun, shook her head, unsmiling. “I tried to call
you.”
“I turned my phone off.” As usual when I’m sleeping.
“Theo wants to talk to you.”
Bree glanced at the lineup, then back at Fran.
“Go,” Fran said, jerking her chin to the kitchen.
Tying the apron around her waist, Bree pushed through the swinging doors and found her boss taking a batch of buns
out of the oven. “Hey, Theo. Sorry I’m late. Fran said you wanted to talk to me?”
Theo’s bald head gleamed as he slid the pan into one of the cooling racks before meeting her gaze. “I can’t do it
anymore, Bree. I’m going to have to let you go.” His eyes held regret.
No. No. No. Not again. This wasn’t happening. “I’m sorry. I won’t be late again. I promise.”
He wiped his brow with his forearm. “I thought maybe it could work, but you’re not made for mornings.”
Bree smoothed her apron with shaky hands. “Then I can come later and do the shop work like Fran. I can clear tables
and serve people.”
He shook his head. “That’s what I have Fran for. I hired you for the back and that’s the person I need. I can only hire one
other person and I need that person here at six.”
From his quiet voice and the hard set of his shoulders, Bree knew he’d already made up his mind. She gave him a small
nod and forced her chin not to wobble. “I understand.” She stared at the tips of her sneakers. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a
better job.” Being yelled at would have been so much easier than dealing with his disappointment.
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
A heavy sigh made her head snap up. Maybe he’d changed his mind? But the expression in his eyes told her not to get
her hopes up.
“Look,” he began. “I’ll give you a recommendation if you need it. I’ll keep an eye out if there are openings anywhere.”
Her breath hitched. “You’d give me a recommendation?”
“Hey, when you’re here, you’re a good worker. It’s these early hours that don’t suit you.”
If it were only the case. Bree’s stomach squeezed. Nine o’clock. Ten o’clock. It didn’t matter what time her job began.
She’d lay awake at night, wanting to fall asleep, willing herself to fall asleep, and nothing would happen but her brain
playing the haunting sound of the wind whispering through the pine trees in her ears.
And now she’d lost another job because she couldn’t wake up in the morning. Her eyes drifted over the pans stacked in
the sink, all the dough that hadn’t been rolled out yet. Failure had her shoulders slumping. She turned to leave, then
stopped. “Um, I hate to ask this, but my paycheck?”
Another sigh. “Fran’s got it up front.”
“Thanks.” She pushed the swinging door open and paused. “You were a good boss,” she said over her shoulder. The
sound of dough smacking the counter followed her into the storefront.
The line in the bakery had diminished some, but every table had someone at it. Fran gave her a sympathetic smile.
Guess she knew I was getting fired when I walked in the door. Bree took off her apron, grabbed her tote bag, and waited
until the last person in line had paid. She sidled up to the counter, hip pressed against the glass housing everything from cinnamon buns to focaccia, and gave Fran a half smile. “I’ll get an Americano to go.”
Fran rang her up. Bree scanned the patrons, trying not to let the gloom of being fired set in. She needed a new job or
she’d be living on the street in a week. Her eyes darted to the advertisement board full of flyers and posters outside the
bakery. Maybe she could find something there, something that didn’t involve a morning shift.
Fran passed her a coffee and her check. Bree glanced at it and a little of the tension in her chest eased. Just enough to
cover what she owed her landlord.
She dug into her pocket for a five to pay for the coffee. She knew she had one. She’d put it there yesterday and hadn’t
spent it. Or had she? Her front pockets were empty. She quickly checked her back pockets, but only found the eviction
notice. Her cheeks heated. Her bank account probably had enough in it for her to use her card, right? It would be a
gamble. She swallowed and met Fran’s brown eyes.
Fran waved a dismissive hand. “This one’s on me. Consider it a going away present.”
Bree barked out a laugh. “Like, ‘Please go away and never come back’ kind of present?”
Fran’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my, no! I’m just sorry it didn’t work out. Now Theo’s going to be a person short until he
finds someone more suitable.”
More suitable. Bree had heard that one before too. The door chimed and a new customer received Fran’s attention. Bree
lifted her cup. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Fran gave her a small smile, then turned her attention to the man in a suit. Bree eyed her check, a hard knot solidifying in her chest. She still needed another full month’s rent in three weeks.
The check wrinkled between her fingers as she squeezed it. One option would be to take the money and run. It was
enough that if she packed up and left tomorrow, she could settle in a new town and not look back. She’d already paid
her last month’s rent when she’d signed the rental agreement. And no one would miss her here.
Inaya would.
The door chimed behind her as she left the yeasty smells of the bakery. Bree inhaled the crisp air of the street, people watching as they bustled around her, trying to focus on anything but the unease in her chest. She sipped her coffee and
winced when it burned her tongue.
Rubbing the sting away on the back of her teeth, she strolled the five steps to the advertisement board. From beneath
the half-wall, she saw someone on the other side in combat boots and black jeans. Bree scanned the ads. Most were
college students searching for roommates. Others were for concerts coming up in the Wickwood area.
The hard knot in Bree’s chest mutated into a hot burn. She really needed a job.
Thunk. Thunk. A stapler hit the other side of the board. She straightened. Thunk. Thunk. Slowly, she edged to the side
and peeked around the board to check out what Mr. Combat Boots had posted. Probably looking for a roommate.
She noticed his hair first. Brown with a hint of red, it swept across his forehead to stop below his chin. A dusting of
stubble showed through his tawny skin, but nothing you could call a beard. And his clothes matched his boots. All black.
He’s cute. Her heart did a double thump. Really cute.
Straightening, she stepped around the board to get a better look at his flyer. His golden eyes tracked her, then quickly
looked away. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, and she stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder. Her body
hummed. Acting casual, Bree took a cautious sip of her coffee and read the flier.
HELP WANTED IMMEDIATELY
PART-TIME FIELD ASSISTANT
RESILIENT PERSONALITY PREFERRED
AVAILABLE NIGHTS
*NEEDS TO KEEP AN OPEN MIND*
She pursed her lips. “What do you do? Make pornos or something?” She wouldn’t want to star in a porno—not that she
didn’t have the skills—but taking a leap into adult entertainment wasn’t a life goal. She wasn’t a prude and could
probably be an assistant.
“What?” He turned so abruptly, he hit her elbow. She managed to hold onto her coffee, but some splashed out of the lid
and landed on his jacket with a splat.
“Oh, my God.” Bree set her cup on the ledge of the advertisement board and dug around in her tote for a tissue. “Are you
hurt? Are you burnt?”
Eyes wide, he shook his head.
“I’m so sorry.” Bree kept digging in her bag. There must be a napkin or something in here. “Not that it was my fault, mind
you, since you hit my hand. But I am sorry I poured coffee on you.” She found a used, crumpled up tissue, stared at it for
a full two seconds, shrugged, and wiped at the front of his jacket. “At least I didn’t get your boots wet.”
As she turned to reaffirm her coffee was secure on the ledge, she hit the cup with her tote. The cup tipped, tipped…she
reached…and it fell to the ground with a dull thud. The lid flew off and coffee splattered her sneakers and his boots.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I did it again.” Easy come, easy go. That’s how it was with free pity coffees. She went to a
knee and swiped at the moisture on his boots. The embarrassment ringing in her ears made it hard for her to hear.
“Please stop,” he said, the words finally making it through.
She peered up to see his wonderfully beautiful face twisted in distress. Glaring at the tissue, she grimaced, and shoved
it in her tote before hopping to her feet.
“Sorry,” she muttered. Had she ruined her chances?
Most likely.
She glanced at the flyer. She really needed a job, but if he was wanting a fluffer, that was probably a deal breaker.
Probably.
“So, um, you’re needing a field assistant? I’m actually looking for a job.” Best not to mention she’d been fired five
minutes ago.
Instead of saying yes or no, he stared at her with bewildered eyes. She cleared her throat. No change in his expression.
She cocked her chin to the flyer. “The porno thing? I haven’t worked at a porno shoot before.”
“Porno thing?” That snapped him out of it. “What? No.” He shook his head. “No porno thing.”
From the completely shocked look on his face, she knew he had to be telling the truth. She swallowed hard. But was it
something worse? Her mind scrambled to fill in the blanks left by the flier. Grave digger? Grave robber? Neither fit.
No matter what it was, she worried at her bottom lip, believing she might have just ruined her shot at making sure she
didn’t end up homeless.
Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
Years ago I was cleaning house and I thought I can change the sheets or write a book. I have no idea where that thought came from, but I wrote a book. It was a terrible book, but it ignited my passion.
How do you make time to write?
I get up early every morning and write while the house is quiet. Then I tend to my other stuff.
Do you believe in writer’s block?
No. Nora Roberts spoke at a conference and said (and I’m paraphrasing…) if you wait for the muse to strike, there is no muse. It’s just ‘sit your butt in the chair and write.”
Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.
I write romance – historical, historical paranormal, romantic suspense, crossover. I guess I just love love and a happily ever after.
How are you publishing your recent book and why? (*e.g. Indie, traditional, or both)
I’ve written fourteen books so far and I’ve published both traditionally and indie. I think I’ll try traditional again and if that doesn’t work out, I’ll self-publish.
Are you an Introvert or Extrovert? How does this affect your work?
I’m actually both. I can talk to a room of 1000 people just fine, but I am shy at small parties. I tap into both for my characters.
What is your favorite motivational phrase?
Don’t quit!
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
Read everything you can in your genre and then read some more. And take workshops. There is always so much to learn. And each book you write should be an improvement over the last one.
Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
Website: https://www.lesliehachtel.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lesliehachtelwriter/
Twitter: @lesliehachtel
Blog: https://lesliehachtelwriter.wordpress.com
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/leslie-hachtel
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/leslie_hachtel
Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?
This is from the first book in my “Morocco” series, Bound to Morocco…
Spring, 1713
The throbbing was relentless. Shera, Lady Edgerton, squinted and reluctantly peeked out from beneath her eyelids. She immediately regretted it. A thousand needles of light stabbed her with brutal fury and she quickly closed her eyes again to ease the misery. She drew in a deep breath, trying to quell the pounding in her head. Mindful of the pain, she very slowly opened her eyes again, fighting the agony of vicious brightness that assailed her. Sunlight pierced the room through a narrow slit in the wall high up in the small space and pooled about her. Nausea threatened but she swallowed hard and stiffened her spine.
Gathering her senses and forcing herself to focus, she looked around. Where was she? A small room made of wood? The walls were bare except for four sets of chains attached to the wood by rings hanging a few inches from the floor. Was this an area used to confine prisoners? But that did not answer why she was here. She was an innocent. Her being here must be a terrible mistake.
She heaved in a deep breath and listened carefully. Naught but a kind of creaking. Raising herself gently, she sat up. Her head spun and she took in a few shallow breaths to ease the dizziness. The space around her gradually took shape. She was indeed in a small room with walls of horizontal planked wood. Beneath her, the floor swayed gently back and forth. And the smell? It was the scent of despair. Someone had been held here before her. Or many someones. And there was also the unmistakable odor of the sea. I am aboard a ship? How is that possible? A slither of terror crawled up her back. Had she been kidnapped? Was her life at risk? Who did this and what did they want? The lack of answers was tormenting.