Follow-up with Authors Nike Chillemi and Barbara Robinson

  

We’ve spent the last few days chatting with authors Barbara Robinson (left) and Nike Chillemi (right). They were nice enough to answer a few more questions!

First, Nike asked Barbara:

Barbara, Although I love Gotham (NYC), I envy you so much because you live in Florida. I know you’ve spent a good deal of time in the Keys. I love Key Largo. Do you have a favorite Key and why?

And here’s Barbara’s answer:

Key West is the only Key I’ve spent much time in, but I’ve heard Key Largo is great. I’d like to visit it one day instead of merely driving through it to get to Key West. Key West is the big tourist attraction, but I’ve heard the other Keys are pretty laid back and not as crowded. If Nike ever retires with a Florida beach house, I’d love to accept her invitation and bring the strawberry shortcake. We’d sit out on the deck and listen to the roar of the surf while we enjoy it.

Then I got up the courage to ask our authors a few questions. Here’s Nike’s answer

1. Where did you come up with the inspiration for your work? Not just this recent book, but for your writings as a whole?

Nike:  I’ve been writing for a long time. As a teen I penned the usual poetry with angst. My poor, dear parents had to suffer through me reading those truly bad poems to them.

2) How has your sense of yourself changed since you became a published author? PLEASE elaborate 🙂  (Lots of writers, especially women, would find this really interesting.)

Nike: I think I have more confidence now then I did before I was published. I doubted that I could be me, the real me and be accepted in Christian publishing. But I have been accepted, warts and all. It’s been a great blessing to me. I love my readers, who have supported me with such loyalty.

3) If you didn’t live where you live now, how would your writing be different? Please explain (if possible)

Nike: I have several places I’d love to live. Saratoga Springs, NY, Quebec City, Canada, and Montauk, NY. I’d bring a crime wave to the area to be sure. Although I don’t live in Montauk, I’ve spent quite a bit of time there and I’m plotting a contemporary story there.

4) About the adage that writers should adhere to the theory of ‘write what you know’: please share how you feel about that.

Nike: I agree whole heartedly with “write what you know.” I only write about settings that I know quite well. Sanctuary Point is a fictitious village on Long Island, NY. However, I know Long Island quite well. I write about the type of people I grew up with, or met along the way. The dialog I write are words I’ve heard before…that resonate with me.

5) If you could change one thing about the world, what would that be and why?

Nike: If I had a magic wand and could change something…I’d cause the church to get into a love mode. I’d want the entire church to start loving…as Christ commanded us to.

6) Most fun memory? Most fab writing moment? Most favorite get-away-from-it-all activity? (Okay, sorry, that was 3!)

 Nike: One of my best memories happened when we visited my grandmother and grandfather. My grandma baked bread. When it came out of the oven it smelled so good. I hurried to the kitchen and I saw my grandfather standing behind my grandmother at the stove. He had his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, holding her close. They turned around, saw me, and smiled. My grandmother gave me a slice of warm bread slathered with butter.

                                               

What beautiful and thoughtful answers. Thank you so much, Nike, you are amazing!

And here are Barbara’s answers:

1)   Where did you come up with the inspiration for your work? Not just this recent book, but for your writings as a whole?

Barb: Life experiences provide fodder for my writing. My mother, father, friends, and family have all provided inspiration, but most of all, my inspiration is God-given.

2) How has your sense of yourself changed since you became a published author? PLEASE elaborate 🙂 (Lots of writers, especially women, would find this really interesting.)

Barb: I’m still the same old me, and I love to write just as much as before I was published. I have grown as a writer since publication though, and I hope improvement shows with each book published. Like with anything else in life, practice helps. Being published doesn’t mean you’ve arrived. You still have to work just as hard to promote, write, and market your work. I have made many new friends through writing and grown closer to God in my studying His Word and writing devotionals and Christian fiction. So, the main thing that has changed with my sense of self with publication is it’s afforded me a closer walk with God and allowed me to serve Him with my writing.

3) If you didn’t live where you live now, how would your writing be different? Please explain (if possible)

Barb: I enjoy writing about places I’ve lived or visited during vacations, so if I lived elsewhere my fiction would be set in different areas. I feel writing about places I know makes the story more realistic.

4) About the adage that writers should adhere to the theory of ‘write what you know ‘ : please share how you feel about that.

 Barb: In a way, I feel it’s true, and that’s what I do, but in another way, writing is also about discovery. It’s a process of self-discovery as well, and involves research when you decide to write about what you don’t know. I do feel people who have lived in a place and know it inside and out can do a better job of writing about those places. In fact, I feel I do a better job of writing about what I know because it comes more naturally, but that doesn’t mean I can’t write about what I don’t know. I can research and learn and have fun researching.

5) If you could change one thing about the world, what would that be and why?

Barb: I’d change the violence and evil that seems to have overtaken the world, but I’m a mere human being without the power to achieve such a task alone. Only God can accomplish such a feat, and He will when He’s ready, in His own perfect timing. It’s heartbreaking to hear of abused children and women, robbery, and murder. If I had such power, I’d change the world to a peaceful, nonviolent place, a paradise like God intended in the first place, so there would be no pain, no heartache, tears, sickness, death, and evil, only love for one another and happiness.

6) Most fun memory? Most fab writing moment? Most favorite get-away-from-it-all activity? (Okay, sorry, that was 3!)

Barb: My most fabulous writing moment was winning first prize for a short story in fiction-writing competition because it made me realize I could keep writing and write books, not just stories. Though, if I thought about this one long enough and wasn’t rushing this question, I’m sure I’d write something different, to be honest.

My most favorite get-away-from-it-all activity is spending time in a Tennessee mountaintop cabin, standing on the deck and looking out at the clouds and treetops, feeling closer to God and being filled with a deep sense of peace and contentment.

Oh Barb, thank you for your wonderfully beautiful answers, you are incredible.

 It has been such fun to visit with both of you. I feel really blessed that I got to know you better. Now friends, what questions do YOU have for Barbara and Nike?

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Thursday’s Excerpt from Author Barbara Robinson!!

1. Barbara,  would you please give us an excerpt?

Prayer versus Southern superstitions when a woman’s husband mysteriously disappears in the swamp on a deer-hunting trip. As steamy as the hot, thick, sticky heat ofLouisiana, this page-turner will keep readers in suspense, as the author spins a tale of love, loss, superstition, pain, heartache, and faith in God. Reviewer Kathy Boswell says, “Very good! She never gives up hope that Andy will return to her someday. She puts it all in God’s hands like she’s done every crisis in her life. She knows He will take care of this for her.” God and the power of prayer versus Southern superstitions. Through belief, faith, hard work, the power of prayer, and God’s help, this powerful, moving story is a thought-provoking Christian romantic suspense about a young couple who fall in love, but have to change her mother’s mind in more ways than one, if their relationship is to survive. Can Andy convince June there’s more to their relationship than friends? Will he win the approval of Mrs. Myrtle, her mother, and can love survive strawberry season and an April flood? Will June be able to give Andy a child? A Southern story of love and faith.

Excerpt:

Rod joined the search party to help investigate his dad’s disappearance. It’d disbanded at nightfall and picked up the search again at daybreak, but they’d found no sign of his dad. Rod guided a canoe deep into the marshes and swamps. He’d hunted with his father many times in these wetlands so he knew where to check. No word or sign of his father made the cold, Christmas season stab like an ice pick, and his heart ached for his mother, left alone.

He slid the canoe through a wall of cypress trees, deeper and deeper into the heart of the swamp. He figured his father headed for the hills. White cranes flew from the cypress limbs. The canoe hit a cypress knee, and Rod gently eased it around a few more. The way they stuck out of the shallow water, like protruding nubs, they reminded him of his grandmother’s warning finger wagging in his face. They could tear a hole in the bottom of a boat. Thank God my boat survived

the lick. Maybe that’s what happened to Dad.

 

Finally, after twelve hours of searching, Rod spotted his dad’s pirogue on the side of the hill, where they’d hunted the previous year. He tied his canoe to a tree limb. “Dad!” He raced to the dome tent and unzipped the door. “Dad?” The tent looked as if his dad made camp, but hadn’t yet used it. The sleeping bag was still rolled up in a corner. The butt of his dad’s 30-30 stuck out from under a sleeping bag. The supplies were still there. Outside, there was no sign of a campfire. It looked as though he never got to hunt. There was no sign of him. Where was he?

Rod picked up the rifle and carried it back to his canoe. He left the other items in case his dad returned looking for them.

They searched until dark. Rod dreaded giving his mother the disappointing news. She’d worry even more, because the pirogue was in perfect condition and so was the tent. No leaking pirogue kept him from coming home. The campsite looked peaceful and serene, not like anything bad had happened, but still there was no sign of his father.

Mom’s on pins and needles, yet she clings to her faith and trust in God. I hear her

faithfully pray for Dad’s safe return. Maybe she won’t fall apart when she hears the news but oh,how I dread having to tell her.

 

To obtain a Kindle copy:

http://www.amazon.com/Southern-Superstitions-ebook/dp/B006X8GAWA/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1327008085&sr=1-2

Book trailer:

http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-249/Southern-Superstition-BJ-Robinson/Detail.bok

Publisher’s link where you may purchase a PDF file to read on your laptop or computer, or an ePub file.

B. J. Robinson is a multi-published, award-winning author of two Christian romantic suspense novels, Southern Superstitions and Last Resort. She makes her home in Florida with her husband and pets, blessed with children, grandchildren, and faith. She’s an avid reader and passionate writer. Visit her at http://barbarajrobinson.blogspot.com.Visit her author page at http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-template/BJRobinson/Page.bok.

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Welcome, Barbara Robinson!

What a great, trend-setting week! Today I am so happy to visit with author Barbara Robinson! Welcome, Barbara!

What prompted you to write your most recent book?

My most recent published book is SOUTHERN SUPERSTITIONS. Mother’s mixture of raising me on Bible verses and Southern superstitions prompted me to write it, but my most recent novel is WHISPERING CYPRESS, which will release in August. I wanted to write something different and didn’t write about strawberries this time. LAST RESORT and SOUTHERN SUPERSTITIONS both have strawberries. All novels are set in the South. The main reason I wanted to write my most recently published book was to illustrate that faith and trust in God are more important than being addicted to horoscopes. God’s on His throne, and He’s in control. I also wanted to write about the South where I grew up. Spring and strawberry season are my favorite time of the year. In Louisiana, spring is strawberry season and vice versa. I spent many glorious spring days in a packing shed with the sun smiling down, the sweet smell of berries tempting me to eat instead of pack, and my youngest son in a baby swing or walker. I wanted readers to experience the hard work of strawberry farmers and enjoy a novel with the delicious fruit.

2. Tell us please about the hero, the heroine and the conflict J

 Andy and June have more than one conflict. First, Andy has to convince June to consider him more than a friend and a big-brother type. Then, there’s Mrs. Myrtle with her wagging finger always telling June she can do better for herself than a common strawberry inspector. To top it all off, Mrs. Myrtle is stuck on Southern superstitions and worries about black cats when they cross her path. She also has a few other superstitions you may not have heard before. Can Andy win her over and convince her he’ll be the son she never had? Will June be able to give Andy a child? The main conflict comes when Andy does a disappearing act while deer hunting during Christmas season. Yes, Andy and June have many obstacles to overcome, if their love is to bloom and survive.

3. Favorite line from the book?   Favorite sentences: It was faith in God that would bring her husband home. Even a lucky penny or dime declared, “In God we trust.”

4.  Congratulations! You have many books to your credit. What are your current plans?

I plan to try my hand at a YA novel which will release in October. It will be my first in that genre.  It’s a story of old love and new. Hope falls for the boy next door, while Granny rekindles a relationship with a man her family didn’t approve of years ago.

4.  Give us a version of a typical day for you.

 I’m up early each morning, work or not, morning person that I am. A normal day off affords me writing time, and I brew a pot of French vanilla Dunkin Donut coffee and start my writing day, which I call French vanilla coffee and writing time. I savor the coffee as much as my blessed writing time. They go so well together. I’ll work at my computer until the sun rises and then enjoy sitting out on my new back deck hubby recently built. I can’t wait until spring break to do just that. I enjoy writing in a spiral notebook while outdoors, as I enjoy watching my two dogs frolic, squirrels play, listen to birds sing, and enjoy the beauty of flowers blooming and trees turning green. I write page after page while savoring my time outside until the sun climbs high and it gets too hot. Then, I go inside and key my writing into the computer, adding to it, layering, correcting, and editing as I go. After I finish my spiral-bound writing, I keyboard directly at the computer. If it’s too cold outside or too hot, I keyboard directly at the computer, but I still love the feel of the pen in my hand and watching those notebook pages fill. I write the morning away, have some lunch and check Facebook while I eat, then I write again. I usually call it quits by early evening, but I’ll have added a great deal of material to my novel with my uninterrupted writing time. I treasure such days. I don’t feel like I’m working because I love writing.

 

5.  Please give us a glimpse of your current writing space and then a vision of your dream space.

 

My current writing space indoors consists of an L-shaped oak desk with a Dell desktop with a 20 inch monitor. Three windows overlook my backyard. I keep the blinds open so I can enjoy nature even while indoors. My current outside writing space consists of a table with an umbrella on the wooden back deck overlooking the backyard. My dream writing space would include a gorgeous lake with azaleas and other blooming flowers. I have the azaleas, but not the lake. A woman can dream, can’t she? Henry David Thoreau had his cabin in the woods, and I once dreamt of having one, too, with that lake.

 

6.  Other than writing, what are some fun things you love to do?

I love to travel, visit zoos, and theme parks. I live in vacation land near all the theme parks. I’ve ridden all the roller coasters except the newest one. I’ve parasailed and zip lined. I love the water. Oh, and I really adore Tennesseeand a mountain-top cabin, especially in the fall of the year when all the leaves are turning. I used to bowl on a league. And, I can’t forget Key West, a mini HawaiiI wrote about in Last Resort and Southern Superstitions. I love visiting with my family, but I only get to see them during the summer. I love my quiet, peaceful morning time with God when I don’t have to work. Remember, I don’t consider writing work, though it is hard work. I love it too much. I’m an avid reader, so if I’m not working on my own WIP, I’m reading someone else’s good book. I also have a blog at http://barbarajrobinson.blogspot.com where I review books.

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Tuesday’s Excerpt fro Nike Chillemi

Today we continue our series with authors Nike Chillemi and Barbara Robinson.Here’s an excerpt from Nike’s book. Enjoy!

Chapter One

Long Island, NY

Late December, 1946

 

Katrina Lenart nodded toward a break in the leafless maples and snow-covered pines lining Hill Street then pointed with her black cable knit glove. A fat blue jay sat on the tip of a pine branch and quirked his head at her, almost mocking. The sun, more the color of wheat than yellow, floated in the pale, cloudless, winter sky, surrendering little heat.

“It might seem like we’re almost there to you, but we still have to climb that hill.” It wasn’t high, but steep, as if a pitiless hand had gouged earth from its side. She turned her head back and squinted against the glare off the snow, adjusting her black velvet earmuffs, stitched into a floret on one side, all the rage since the war.

“Said just like a female.” Willie Brogna grinned, pulling the toboggan behind him, his rubber boots stomping deep impressions in the fresh fallen snow. Pivoting, he gave her a wide smile. “I know you’re just being nice, helping me try out my favorite Christmas present. With my sister on her honeymoon and all, I don’t have anyone to be my guinea pig.” He resumed his climb, out-pacing her, and chuckled under his breath.

Determined to put her best friend’s teenage brother in his place, Katrina lengthened her strides and arrived at the top of the incline breathing hard. “People often comment on how nice I am… and courteous. Willing to help those in need.” She tossed off a teasing smile.

The tall, lanky teen snorted then tugged on his hand-knit gloves, securing them, and flexed his fingers.

Shading her eyes with a glove, she gazed south, unable to see the village of Sanctuary Point or the Great South Bay through the trees. Though she knew icy wind whipped them both.

The weather forecast said a storm was headed their way. Directly below, the ground dropped away into an empty lot. Beyond that, Hill Street and the tiny Bauer cottage.

“Are you ready? I’ll steer and you take the rumble seat.” Willie knelt and positioned the toboggan for the first run down the steep hill. “Don’t forget to hang on tight, I’m gonna let ‘er rip, if that won’t bruise the dignity of Memorial’s most promising nurse.”

Katrina gave him a playful smack on the arm. “How you do go on. Just watch out for that huge bump down there.”

“Aw, that’s not even a blip on the radar.”

She hunkered down behind him and clasped her arms around his waist. The toboggan sped down the hill, her hair airborne behind her. Icy snow crystals flew into her face. They hit the bump and went aloft. “Willieee,” she shrieked.

They landed so hard her teeth clattered.

When they came to a stop, Willie jumped off. “While we were in the air, I saw something near Mrs. Bauer’s cottage. Does she have a pet? A cat, maybe? It looked like a hurt animal… something bloody.”

He trotted across the street. “It’s not in the yard. It’s away from the house. Closer and to the side of the road.” He hastened down Hill Street, slipping and sliding, to the edge of the Bauer property.

Katrina hurried down the sloping street after him, her arms stretched out for balance. If this were his idea of a practical joke, she’d let him have it.

Willie bent over the object. Rising, he twisted toward her. “Well, it’s not an animal. It’s a piece of soiled cloth.”

Rushing to his side, she tried to catch her breath. “That’s blood on a kitchen towel. Not a lot, but sufficient to warrant concern.” Please, Lord, let everything be all right in the Bauer house.

“Do you suppose Mrs. Bauer cut herself out here? But why would she come all the way out here with a kitchen towel?”

“We’d better check on her.” Katrina raced back up the hill after Willie along the length of the lot, as fast as she could. She slipped but regained her footing on the Bauer’s icy walk. When she reached the stoop, she panted in short painful gasps.

Willie hurdled the two steps and came to a stop on the miniscule porch. The front door stood ajar.

Uneasiness halted her winded, ungraceful gait. She forced herself to follow until she stood before the door and called out, “Mrs. Bauer, hello.”

Willie nudged the door and shouted. “Mrs. Bauer, are you in there?”

She peered between the door and its frame into dimness. “Mrs. Bauer… Noel, it’s Katrina, your neighbor.”

“This is getting us nowhere.” Willie gave the door a shove.

The living room was chilly and silent — something definitely not right. Mrs. Bauer wouldn’t leave the door open on such a cold day, not even a crack. Katrina eased in. “Hello, anyone home?” She stepped around the couch and froze.

Noel Bauer lay on her living room floor, in front of a decorated Christmas tree. Blood pooled beneath her head.

“Oh, my Lord.” Katrina rushed to the woman and knelt, applying two fingers to her neck.

“Willie, she has no pulse.”

“I mean, I know you’re a nurse, but are you sure?”

“She’s dead.” Katrina’s voice shook in her throat. “She’s not breathing and her body temperature isn’t warm.”

“The telephone lines come up here, so I’ll bet she has a phone. We’d better call the police.

This is awful.” His eyes darted around the room. “There… in the kitchen.”

Katrina took a deep breath and calmed herself. How strange and brutal life could be.

Yesterday, gay and carefree, she stood as maid-of-honor in Willie’s sister’s wedding. Today she’d found Noel Bauer’s corpse.

She hurried to the phone, dialed the village operator, and asked to be connected to the police station. After relaying the information to young Officer Classen, whose mother worked with her at the hospital, she sank onto a chair at the table and held her head in her hands. There was something peculiar about the position of Noel Bauer’s body Katrina couldn’t put her finger on, as if she were reaching for something.

Cries of an infant came from the bedroom down the hallway.

*****

Standing by the Christmas tree, Katrina rocked the baby wrapped in a pink blanket. She took a small green and white glass ornament from the top of the tree and dangled it before the tiny face. “Look how pretty. Your mommy made such a lovely tree for you.” Her eyes misted, and her gaze slid to the lifeless form on the floor. The house reflected the woman’s efforts to turn a meager cottage into a comfortable home with touches of handcrafted style and elegance. On the wall above an aging sofa, a needlepoint wall hanging in a simple frame depicted two swans floating on a lily pond that could well have hung in a fine gallery.

“Detective Daltry’s here.” Willie turned from the window and hurried to open the door.

Ian Daltry entered with rookie-officer Robert Classen at his heels. The detective removed his brown fedora freeing a riot of salt and pepper hair. He nodded toward Katrina. “Miss Lenart, you phoned the station?”

“Yes, Willie and I found Mrs. Bauer.” She glanced at the teen, who stood by the front window, a stricken look on his face, and her heart went out to the boy. Her gaze shifted to the detective and then down to the body. “She’s gone.”

Detective Daltry placed his hat on the coffee table and bent over the still form. The blood on the floor, dark and thick, gave off a metallic smell. Straightening, he looked at Katrina, his lips in a tight line. “You’re right. She’s dead. I’d guess a couple of hours.”

Katrina took a halting step toward the body, but the detective put up a staying hand to stop her. She cleared her throat. “Severe trauma to the head. She couldn’t survive a wound like that.”

He nodded. “That’s my take on it. I’ll phone the medical examiner.”

Willie pointed. “Phone’s in the kitchen.”

Katrina took a quick step forward. “Is it murder?”

The detective pivoted, and the intensity of his eyes pierced her soul. “I really can’t say, Miss. It’s very early in the investigation.” He turned on his heel, crossed the living room, and disappeared.

Katrina followed stiff legged part way across the room. She felt cold, and it wasn’t just because the door had been open. She wanted to do something, but didn’t know what. It wasn’t illness that had killed Noel Bauer, and it wasn’t accidental death. What else could it be but murder? She shuddered. How awful for Mrs. Bauer and this poor dear baby.

Officer Classen stepped forward and blocked her path. “You can’t go into the kitchen.”

She stopped in her tracks, stroked the infant’s soft hair, and held her closer. “I had no idea

Mrs. Bauer had a new baby. She closed the house in early spring last year and was gone over six months. She’s been back only about three.” Since then, she’d been reclusive, but why?

The baby grabbed for the ornament and cooed.

Katrina lifted the glass bulb away from the tiny hand and returned it to the tree. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re a quick little lady, aren’t you? Yes you are.” She made an exaggerated smiling face and shook her head. “Such an energetic little thing, you are.”

The baby started fussing.

“And now your mood has changed. Are you cold, sweetheart?” Katrina pulled the blanket tight around the infant, rubbed her tiny hands, and blew warm breath on them.

“I’d like to throw a log on the fire for the baby, but can’t touch anything until we complete our investigation.” The young officer shifted from foot to foot.

“I understand. Still, can’t you make an exception for the baby?”

“No, if we disturb things we might be destroying the fingerprints of the killer.”

“I see. I think she’s cranky more than cold, though it is chilly in here.”

Detective Daltry emerged from the kitchen and advanced toward her. He touched the pink blanket. “A girl.” A tremor ran through his fingers, and he dropped his hand to his side.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Katrina stroked the infant’s face. When she glanced up, she thought she saw pain flicker in the detective’s eyes, and then it was gone.

“Her mother was lovely. By all accounts a cultured lady. Such a shame.” Officer Classen stood over the body with a camera. “Detective, do you want me to start taking photographs?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, begin with the body and work out to the periphery of the room. Don’t spare the film.”

The child gurgled, squirmed, and kicked her legs against the coverlet wrapped tight around her.” Aren’t you a feisty one?” Katrina kissed the baby’s little fist. “You’re going to be fine. Somehow, I’ll make sure. I promise.”

The detective rocked back on his heels and raked his hand through his hair, mangling it.

He cast a quick glance at the hearth. “With the fire nearly out and the door opening and closing, perhaps the child shouldn’t be here. I can phone my neighbor. She watches my daughter when

I’m working. I’m sure she’d look after the little one until we figure out what to do with her.”

The baby made a face and fidgeted, her knees pumping.

“No. That’s not necessary.” Katrina held the baby tighter, her need to protect this infant growing by the second. “I live down the street, and I’m a maternity nurse. If you consent, I’ll take her home. I’m sure my mother will agree to mind her while I’m working at the hospital.”

A huge wail came from the tiny mouth.

“Maybe she’s hungry.” Willie took two quick steps. “Let me see if there’s milk in the kitchen.”

The detective shook his head. “Sorry, off limits. You can’t touch or remove anything. We haven’t done a walk-through yet, and they’ll want to brush for fingerprints.”

Katrina placed the baby on her shoulder and rubbed her back in a circular motion. “This child can’t drink bottled milk. I’m sure her mother nursed her, most do. We’ll have to make formula from evaporated milk.” What did men know about babies?

“Won’t you need a baby bottle?” Willie plunked both hands on his hips.

“Yes, or fashion something similar. I need to get this baby home where Momma can help me.” Katrina bounced the fussing infant in her arms and checked the seat of the diaper. “She’s dry and didn’t leave us a present in her pants.”

Detective Daltry moved to Katrina’s side and stroked the baby’s back. “Officer Classen can drive you home.” He turned toward the rookie cop. “Wait up on the photos and take this young woman and the child down the hill. On your way back, stop on the wrong side of the street by the Bower property. Get that cone out of the trunk and mark the spot. I’m calling the troopers station to see if they can get any tire impressions near where we picked up the bloody towel.”

“If Lorne Kincade was finished with trooper training, we’d get that done right quick.” The young officer opened the door and held it for Katrina.

“You bet you would.” Willie tried for a grin, but only one side of his lips lifted. “Thing is, he won’t even start the training until he and my sister get back from their honeymoon.”

Katrina rocked the baby whose face had turned bright pink. “Heavens to Betsy, let’s not rush the newlyweds home in our talk.” She tried for a smile and managed a small one.

The detective pivoted toward the window. “Mr. Brogna… Willie, I’d like you to stay. I have questions for you. Miss Lenart, I’ll question you later.”

The infant emitted a piercing cry.

Katrina hurried toward the door. “Our house is the first one on the right side.”

8.     purchase links, website, blog, etc.

Amazon (Kindle). http://www.amazon.com/Sanctuary-Point-Book-Two-ebook/dp/B006LTHI1I/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331251144&sr=1-1

Barnes & Noble (Nook). http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sanctuary-point-book-two-nike-chillemi/1107966847?ean=2940013874657&itm=1&usri=goodbye+noel

Desert Breeze Publishing. http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-template/NikeChillemi/Page.bok

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Two is Really Better than One! Welcome Nike and Barbara

Hello everyone and welcome to this first post of featuring two wonderfully talented authors! This week we will be chatting with & getting to know Nike Chillemi and Barbara Robinson.

Welcome, Nike and Barbara! I am so thrilled and happy that you both are visiting this week, thank you both so much!!

 

Barbara                                           Nike

These two wonderful authors and fab women have agreed to visit here throughout this week, talking about their writngs, lives, future plans and anything else we might venture upon as we get to know them better. My thanks to them for being blog pioneers!

Let’s start alphabetically with Nike and some fun questions with her about her life, her perspective and her writing.

Nike, thank you so much for visiting! I have a few questions.

1. What prompted you to write your most recent book?

I wanted to continue the series in a way that the community in the fictitiousvillageofSanctuaryPoint flows from one novel to the next. Katrina Lenart and Detective Ian Daltry were secondary characters in my first novel  and I thought they’d be perfect for each other in the second novel. And so, GOODBYE NOEL was born.

2. Tell us please about the hero, the heroine and the conflict.

Ah, the conflict. Well, that’s just it. I knew the sparks would fly if I put Katrina and Ian together. First of all, she’s accepted she’s going to be a career girl and not get married, so she’s not that comfortable with what she’s feeling toward him. He’s a widower with a four year old daughter and he’s a bit older than Katrina. He thinks he’s practically gone bonkers with the attraction he’s having toward such a lively young woman. So, it’s a set up where they’re going to be attracted and fight it. Then the village police chief gives Ian an order to carry out that riles Katrina, and she’s got quite a temper.

3. Favorite line from the book?

Chapter 5, scene 1:   Katrina wanted to throw Detective Daltry into a snow bank.

4.  Congratulations! You have many books to your credit. What are your current plans?

I just turned in the completed manuscript for book number three to Gail (editor in chief at Desert Breeze), PERILOUS SHADOWS. Of course, there’s still more to do on it. I’ve got to go through the editing process, and a cover has to be created. I’m very excited about it. I’ll give you a taste of what it’s about…

Pioneer newspaperwoman Kiera Devane is on a mission to prove a woman can do a man’s job, as she hunts a young coed’s killer? Ace radio broadcaster Argus Nye lost one love to a murderous fiend and his heart aches as he tries to protect Kiera from herself as much as from this killer.

4.  Give us an idea of what a typical day is like for you.

I get up, throw on a pair of baggy sweats or knit pants and drive my 14 year old daughter to school. Then I come home and our malti-poo Sophie is waiting to be walked. When that’s done I make a cup of tea and kiss hubby goodbye as he rushes off to work. I try to select a Bible verse and have time for personal worship. I wish I could say I’m always faithful in that, but I’m getting better at it. My church sends out daily Bible readings and a short lesson via email and I’ve signed up for them. After that I start checking writing related email, send a chapter to my critique group so they can write with red ink all over it. See if anyone has sent me a chapter of their work to critique. And of course there’s marketing, marketing, marketing for GOODBYE NOEL. It seems the marketing never stops. LOL

 5.  What’s your current writing space like and what does your dream space look like?

My current writing space is a small computer desk shoved into the corner of a room. It’s cramped. I’d love to have an office in a beach house in Florida (when we retire). I’d like to step out of my office’s French doors and onto a wide veranda where I’d sit in a comfy chair each morning, drink my tea, and listen to the rumble of the surf. Then I could invite Barbara over and she might bring her wonderful strawberry shortcake. Yum.

6.  Other than writing, what are some fun things you love to do?

I was a foodie for years. And I still love to cook. But my husband and I are approaching a time when we might be considered to be more, ah, hem, seasoned. We don’t have much in the way of major health issues and we’d like to keep it that way. I’ve changed the way I cook. I’ve started increasing the number of food items that God has made…more natural and organic ingredients. I also try to cook low fat. I think of food more as fuel, but being a former foodie…and also always short of time…it has to be feasting on fast, frugal fuel. I also shop for bargains.

Thank you, Nike!

COMING UP TOMORROW: AN EXCERPT FROM NIKE!

WEDNESDAY: A VISIT WITH BARBARA!

THURSDAY: BARBARA’S EXCERPT!

FRIDAY: Cross-Questioning from the Authors and Reader’s Questions!

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