I like the idea that we’re fated to be with certain people in our lives, so here’s a list of my top 5 romance movies where the characters try to fight fate (and fail).
You can fight the good fight with many things in life, but fate isn’t one of them. Blake and Vicki in Unforgettable might just be fated, but they’re both trying hard to fight the chemistry, history, and the way their lives continue to intersect. There’s only so long that denial works, and Vicki isn’t exactly one for denying herself the pleasure of Blake’s company, but even if they accept their fate, they still have a mob boss, a hit man, and the Department of Justice to handle. What's your favorite Rom Com? Let me know in the comments
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What writers do to relax. Create a book trailer. :) Remembering those who died in service to their countryMy time in the military feels like another life. It was pre-kids, so in many ways, it was a lifetime ago. Those who know me know that I am a strong advocate for military veterans and their families. Many of my students are prior military, and sharing their stories has helped me to reclaim mine. When I told my mother I had enlisted in the Air Force, she cried. When I told her I was an aircrew member on the E-3 AWACS, she just knew I was going to die. I assured her that the E-3 was perfectly safe. It had never had a fatal crash. I was both right and wrong. I survived my time in the military without injury, the E-3 was safe, yet they did have a fatal crash. One I cannot forget. My last assignment in the Air Force was to the 962nd AWACS Squadron in Elmendorf (Anchorage), Alaska. A small squadron, everyone knew everyone, so when the news came on the radio that there had been a crash of an E-3 out of Elmendorf, I was stunned. Because I knew people on that plane. Because I had flown on that plane, from that base and squadron. Because it could have been me.
I was in Grapevine, Texas when I heard the news. Driving in my car across an overpass. The moment is a crystal clear snapshot. I was in shock. Every once in awhile, an E-3 will do touch-and-goes near the local AFB and I will see the flash of the heavy black-and-white dome. That image transports me back to every good and bad thing that happened during my time in the military. It takes me back to that moment on the overpass when I heard the news. Memorial Day is about remembering those who died in service to their country. Today I remember the crew of Yukla 27. On Sundays I run a novel writing group at the local library. They're a diverse group of male and female writers of all ages, although there is a heavy slant toward the fantasy realm. And we're lucky enough that everyone clicks. Our novel writing goals unite us. Yesterday we talked about character development and then we continued to create a class character named Harriet Crawford, whose name we chose from a website called Random Name Generator. Over the course of the last couple weeks, I've grown rather fond of Harriet. We created her as a group, so she has some surprising traits, like playing piano as a child and now she only plays piano when she's had too much gin. That's the kind of detail the class has given to developing her, and then we move on to group-brainstorm the protagonists for other members of the group. It's been an engaging and stimulating process, and we all take home the knowledge and the energy. The day before a book releaseThe day before a book release can be stressful. So many what-ifs and I'm a worrier, so lots of stress. It helps to keep busy. Saturday night, I stayed up half the night making a book trailer. Why? Because the use of my creativity in another arena helped divert my worry into something beneficial. Plus, I'm an insomniac. :) And Sunday, I got to hang out with my book tribe. Each week, they thank me for my time, but they don't realize I get as much out of it as they do. Hanging out with other writers feeds my creativity and I go home revved up to write. To me, that's a win. Some people like book release celebrations, and they have their place, but for me, I"m happy hanging out with my book tribe. What do you enjoy when you're celebrating a milestone? Insomniac theater
Weird crimes are the source of infinite story ideas for writers. Take this story about a taxi driver who drugged female passengers so they would pee in the backseat. Seriously. Weird.
As I said in the post earlier this week where I detailed the weird crime that inspired the opening of Unstoppable, truth is just as strange as fiction and we writers dig that stuff. In Unstoppable: BAD BOY MICK DONOVAN IS OUT TO AVENGE HIS BROTHER’S DEATH, AND ALIGNING WITH DESTINY HARPER AND THE FBI TASK FORCE IS HIS TICKET. BUT LANDING IN THE MOUNTAINS AMIDST A BLIZZARD AND A PAST DEZ WOULD RATHER FORGET TESTS WHAT MICK WILL SACRIFICE FOR REVENGE.
Sunday, I detailed the first true crime story that inspired the opening of Unstoppable. The second story will be posted on Entangled's blog once the book releases (yep, I'm a tease). :) But, if you read the original post, you know that my Mayberry-like suburban neighborhood wasn't exactly as perfect as it seems from the outside. In fact, I remember hearing the shots fired, but in my head, I thought: "No way, not this neighborhood." Although police still haven't released the cause of this shootout, the idea sparked this scene:
Multiple pops sounded like firecrackers through the radio, but the double tap pattern was unique to guns, not fireworks. The wheels of her car squealed as she took the corner faster than planned. She stopped in the middle of the road as she approached the target house. A sedan was parked on the street in front of the house. The driveway was clear. A narrow front porch was barely big enough for the body crumpled near the open door. The face was turned toward the house, but she recognized Agent Summerfield’s bald head.
“Officer down,” she said over the radio. “Repeat. Officer down. Requesting backup.” Heart pounding, the echo of gunfire fading, Dez scanned the neighborhood for the source and found a man on the roof of the two-story across the street. She couldn’t leave the family unprotected, but she had no clue what she was walking into. The glint of early morning sun caught the flash of metal as the suspect lifted a rifle. Either he was gunning for her or he was going to make sure Summerfield was dead. “Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered under her breath. Anger rose inside her chest, covering the fear and adrenaline. This was the kind of crap that went down when you didn’t stick to the plan. When you didn’t wait for backup. Now she was sitting in the middle of the suburbs with some nutjob taking aim and had about two seconds to decide on a course of action.
To celebrate the release of the new cover, I've got a giveaway going through Rafflecopter. Be sure to add Unstoppable to your Goodreads TBR list. The prize is a list of romantic suspense titles that are on *my* TBR list! One winner walks away with 5 ebook titles.
Unstoppable releases 5/1/17.
Weird crimes are the source of infinite story ideas for writers. There isn't enough time in the world to write about all the crazy stuff that happens in our mixed up world. Take this story about a murder attempt and a Ouija board where the writer of the article says things went from "buddy to bloody." Sometimes, truth is just as strange as fiction and we writers dig that stuff.
Unstoppable, the next in my Untouchables series, is no exception. While it is fiction, the real world does provide plenty of inspiration. There were two real world crimes, plus my Police Informant, that added realism to Dez and Mick's story. The first weird crime aspect relates to something absolutely unheard of in our neighborhood. We live in a very suburban suburb, the kind where people walk their kids to school. After dinner they walk their dogs or a baby stroller through the neighborhood. We're Mayberry normal in the middle of a midsize city. What isn't normal is guns in the street, but that's literally what happened. Twice. The second incident I'll post next month, but the first instance was just bizarre. My daughter the ballerina came home to say she had to drive the long way around because the police had blocked off an entire street. Because this is abnormal, we hit the Internet to figure out what the heck was going on. Turns out, this suburban street wasn't Mayberry after all. Witnesses said that they heard gunfire first. Moments later, two guys ran out of a house and into a newer red pickup truck. Another man chased after them firing a handgun. The pickup goes tearing off and the man who had chased them sat down on his front porch holding his gun. This happened just before 4:30 in the afternoon. People were outside doing yard work and kids were playing. What the heck? The original scenario in itself is bizarre, but what happened next is even stranger. The truck was found at a stoplight less than two miles away. One person was dead at the scene and the second was in critical condition. Had they driven out of the neighborhood the other direction, they would have been at a major hospital, but that wrong turn caused at least one death. Police aren't saying what incited the incident, but that just makes it more interesting for my writer mind. So of course, I had to put the puzzles together in a way that made sense for me. Unstoppable opens in what Dez considers a sickeningly sweet suburb where things immediately escalate. Gunshots fired and... well, the AND is what happens next in Unstoppable. :) I'll post that opening scene later this week. To celebrate the release of the new cover, I've got a giveaway going through Rafflecopter. Be sure to add Unstoppable to your Goodreads TBR list. The prize is a list of romantic suspense titles that are on *my* TBR list! One winner walks away with 5 ebook titles. Unstoppable releases 5/1/17.
Memory is a tricky thing. Bad memories filter to the top while good memories settle to the bottom of a very deep well and we struggle to keep them alive. The key is to replace the bad memories with good—or drown the bad in that well, whichever works. I’m a violent sort, so I’ll be drowning those suckers. Holidays in our house growing up were mostly good, but that means I have only this vague recollection and warm, fuzzy feelings for Christmas. Well, all but one. The year I turned five, my father was recovering from a major car accident. Money was tight and we ultimately lost the house and Dad’s business to medical expenses. That was the year someone adopted us. Just for Christmas presents that is. We were the little angels on a Giving Tree. The night before Christmas, a group of men brought what seemed like a truckload of presents for four kids and two adults. They deposited them under the empty tree just like Santa. I bounced on my toes in sheer joy at the mass of goodies. Too young to read, I didn’t know which presents were mine, but my older brother pointed out a ginormous and awkwardly wrapped present labeled “girl, aged 5.” It was bigger than me and taller than my teenage brother. It was mine, mine, mine! As the men left to bring another load of goodies, I scooted closer to that funny shaped present. I may have poked the side and heard the wrapping crinkle. The finger may have—accidentally of course—punched through a spot in the wrapper. Come on, I was five. What would you do? I looked. Inside was something soft, brown, and fuzzy. Fur! I couldn’t see the face, but I pictured a smiling bear face on this wonderfully massive gift. After the elves disappeared, Mom noticed a trail of white stuff all over the family room floor. Not just a few drops, but copious amounts of tiny white Styrofoam balls. Everywhere. She followed the trail to that awkwardly wrapped gift where, sure enough, a hole in the toe and wrapping caused it to bleed all over the house. She didn’t know I had seen and loved and coveted that fluffy, loveable, stuffed bear, because that would have meant admitting that I had peeked. So she did what any mother would do. She waited until I went to bed. Come Christmas morning, there was no awkwardly wrapped giant bear to unwrap. It had disappeared overnight. There were other presents under the tree for “girl, aged 5;” hats and gloves and girlie things, but what I remember most is that giant bear that could have been mine if he hadn’t leaked a trail of stuffing all over the family room floor. That long ago Christmas may be why I’m a bit fanatical about making Christmas special for my kids. And why I wrote the not-quite-perfect Christmas story for Sofia and Logan. Don’t get me wrong, Logan’s trying to create good memories to drown out the bad of Sofia’s former life, so when the presentfest begins, Eli is in for a giant surprise: Excerpt: With a squeal, Eli leaped from the table and ran for the tree. Wrapping paper flew as he shredded into the first present, a plastic dinosaur the size of a football. Holding her phone out, Sofia hunkered on the floor and snapped pictures. Dumbfounded by the wild activity, Logan perched on the floor against the sofa. Eli unwrapped several dinos before hitting the jackpot with a dinosaur sanctuary straight from the movies. The delight in his screams lit the house more than the Christmas lights. “Mom.” “That one is all Logan.” The boy’s eyes grew larger. “Thanks, Logan.” “Couldn’t you find something bigger?” Sofia mocked. “No.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Eli’s joyful face. “But I did try.” “How long did you spend in the toy store?” This time, he did turn to her. The teasing glint in her eyes and the lightness on her face hadn’t always been there. He’d done that, he thought, and it was a gold-medal moment. Making Sofia smile was his new goal in life. She deserved all the smiles she could get. “Blake and I might have spent two or three hours in the toy store,” he admitted. He pointed to Eli trying, and failing, to open the sanctuary box. “It was worth it.” Christmas morning starts off perfect-ish in their house, but a mysterious phone call before dinner threatens more than their holiday celebrations. One thing is for certain. This holiday is one she’ll never forget.** Now it’s your turn. Post in the comments about the one Christmas you can’t forget and why it’s so memorable. **reposted from my original article on Ever After Romance In the spring of my seventh grade school year, I wanted a yearbook so bad I could taste it, but my family lived on a necessity-only budget. Yearbooks fell under the category of luxury, so I didn’t even ask. But I still wanted one. We played cards and board games frequently, because that was free, so one night, I asked my dad to play poker with me, something we did for nickels and dimes. I played that night until I’d earned my yearbook money and then I quit, just like that. Dad was mystified by my sudden departure. Mom teased me for years that my father would have given me the money if I’d asked, but I had an independent streak. Somehow, asking seemed like a sign of weakness. The independent streak that some might call stubborn was a character trait that started young, and continued through most of my life. It’s the reason I found a job working in a distant mountain town for two consecutive summers of high school. I lived and worked there, several hours from family. I wanted to do it on my own. It’s likely the same independent streak that had me joining the Air Force before I was wise enough to know better. Like me, Sofia--the heroine in Untouchable--is one of those people who won’t ask for help, even when she needs it. Asking for help is a sign of weakness to Sofia, but it’s more than stubbornness. She wouldn’t know who to ask even if she tried. She’s caught between her mob boss ex-husband and the law which considers her a conduit into the family. When her son is kidnapped, she doesn’t look for help. She starts looking for answers. Now it's your turn. How independent (aka stubborn) are you? Do you ask for help or do it yourself? * This is a repost from Untouchable release in 2015.
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AuthorFunny story. During the Mercury Retrograde Incident in September 2016, Cindy's original blog disappeared. Five years, gone in a random act of chaos. Now she gets to repopulate her blog world one post at a time. Join her if you dare. :) Archives
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