Hello Summer



According to my calendar, today is the official beginning of summer. My author schedule is ramping up, and I’m ready to go.

In July, I’ll be going to the Romance Writers of America Conference in San Diego, California. I’m excited about the location because I’ve never been to the west coast. My husband and I will arrive a few days early so we can explore and enjoy the city’s offerings.

Conferences are a great avenue where I learn about the craft of writing and marketing my books. It is a time to reunite with friends I haven’t seen since the last conference and the chance to make new author friends as well. Conferences provide an opportunity for me to grow as I offer encouragement to those who are new to writing and the publishing industry. I always make sure I save a few hours to volunteer in some capacity because I believe it takes an army of volunteers to make these events a success.

In August, I have a speaking engagement at the Auburn Public Library in Auburn, Georgia. I will be speaking, along with several other authors about writing. This is a chance for me to express how and why I write in the romance genre. It is also an opportunity for me to meet new readers and encourage them to take a chance on a new author.

In September, I will attend the Georgia Romance Writers annual Moonlight and Magnolias Conference. Last year I experienced my first book signing as an author. I will be signing at the Book Fair again this year. I am moving from spectator to workshop presenter at this conference. Along with my writer/nurse friend Kim Turner, we will give a seminar on writing medical scenes with accuracy.

I am working on publishing a monthly newsletter, but I must admit technology is not my strong suite. Hopefully, this will be a reality soon. I have found there is so much more to authorship than writing, and I am pushing myself from my comfort zone to take on new responsibilities and experience the fantastic opportunities that await a published author.

Chasm – an adult suspense novel




What happens when you’re in love with your children’s abductor?




Taylor Vine thinks she can fight off the demons of her past when she moves back home to Estill Springs, Tennessee, but it doesn’t take long to see that things aren’t quite that easy. The bumps she hears in the night soon escalate, keeping her up at nights, and it isn’t long before her most precious possessions, her children, get abducted. She finds herself in a race against time to try to find them before it’s too late. One wrong move and the outcome could be disastrous.


Her heart picked up its pace, and she reached for the phone. She hesitated, unsure whether to even answer it. But she plucked it from its receiver. “Hello?” Her voice slid out rickety and unsure.

The male voice on the other end was dark and deeply plagued with distress. It broke, and she struggled to make out what he was saying.

What she heard next was unimaginable; it didn’t sound human. The grief penetrated through the voice—through the phone—flanking it with wretched wails and sobs. “I’ve killed the children. Heaven…help me…I’ve killed the children.” The phone went silent.

Taylor’s knees buckled. “What?” The hyper pitch in her voice strained out. “Goodness gracious, who is this? What happened? Whose children?” Her knees about took her down again. She caught the edge of the counter, catching herself before she fell. “Answer me, for crying out loud! Don’t hang up on me!”

She listened desperately, plastering the phone to her ear. But the phone was silent. “Hello, hello? Answer me!” Frantically clicking the telephone cradle button, she tried to bring him back, but there was only a dial tone.

She pounded the phone on the counter so forcefully that the plastic mouthpiece broke into a million tiny pieces. She let it fall, left it dangling by its cord. Swiftly making her way to the hall closet, she rummaged through the plastic totes for a flashlight. “There has to be one in here somewhere,” she mumbled to herself. Extension cords and old Christmas lights spilled over onto the floor.

Finally finding a flashlight, she clicked it on. It was dim, but it would do. She ran back to the hall, to the children’s rooms, feeling no pain in her swollen ankle.

Flinging Cody’s door wide, she flashed the light toward the wall where his bed sat. In slow motion, the lonely, empty, disheveled bed yanked a horrifying scream from her gut, reverberating through the house. The earth quit spinning, and she was lost to oblivion. “NO! Not my children! Please, God…not my children.” She needed life support, couldn’t breathe; the air was being sucked from her body in rapid swells. She dropped to the floor, her world going black—closing in—smothering.

Not knowing how long she’d been out, Taylor struggled to her feet, she was sure it wasn’t long; it was still black outside, flashes of lightning still cracking in through the window. She raced to check on Nora. Her room was the same: deserted, hollow, puncturing a bleeding, oozing hole in Taylor’s chest the size of a large, bottomless chasm.

“For crying out loud, no…please, no.” The tears coursed down her face. She staggered numbly to Nora’s empty bed, collapsing on it, her hand reaching, groping—trying to find the warmth of her baby girl. But the only thing the tangled blankets and sheets offered her was a bleak and disgusting coldness. It shocked her through her hand. How long had they been gone? Time couldn’t wait, she needed to find them.


Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01F6PXFY6

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/chasm-lk-kuhl/1123761841?ean=2940158502675 

iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/chasm/id1111084473?mt=11 

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/chasm-14   

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/635334 


my photo (564x800)

L.K. Kuhl lives in Nebraska with her husband of twenty-nine years, young son, Nathan, and Greg, their Black Lab dog. She has two older daughters, Morgan and Brittani and son-in-law, Trevor. L.K. has been writing for over twenty years. She first began writing children’s books and poetry, moved on to writing music, and is now writing Young Adult and Adult novels. Her first book, Everlasting, a Young Adult Paranormal Romance, was published in February, 2016. She loves spending time with her family, vacationing, writing, reading, and taking long walks. It’s the characters who write their own stories in her novels, and she is just their messenger, sharing it with the world.


I got the idea to write Chasm because my husband used to be an engineer for the railroad. Although my husband never worked with this gentleman directly, one of the engineers on the railroad hit and killed his wife and children with the train he was driving. It was no fault of the engineer. The wife did it deliberately to get back at her husband, the engineer. The engineer said the last thing he saw was his children looking up at him from the windows of the car.

Although this is a work of fiction, and this is just a story between two, make believe people, I felt compelled to tell his story about how utterly and completely devastating this would be. The engineer was never able to return to work after this.


Website: http://kuhlreads.com/

Author Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/kuhlreads

Twitter: https://twitter.com/lynettehoff1

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/lynettehofferbe/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/l.k.kuhl/

Blogger: http://kuhlreads.blogspot.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28674602-everlasting

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01BXDJGIY




Author Interview


Welcome, Artemis Grey! Thanks for being here today to share about yourself and your latest release, Catskin.


IMG_7981 (1)

Artemis Grey was raised on fairytales and the folklore of Appalachia. She’s been devouring books and regurgitating her daydreams into written words since childhood. She can most often be found writing by a crackling fire or rambling barefooted through the woods and mountains, napping (yes, napping) on horseback, searching the depths of random wardrobes and wriggling into hollow tree trunks. In her downtime, she herds cats, which is just as entertaining as it sounds. She hopes to make her readers look at the world they’ve always seen, and see the world they’ve always envisioned.



When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

I literally cannot remember a time when I didn’t want to be a writer. I mean, my twin sister and I were feral children, and we didn’t much think about careers, or growing up until later in life (for me, I didn’t even consider the fact that I might not be able to avoid becoming an adult until I was about 14) but even when I was put on the spot, it was an instant and immediately natural understanding that if I couldn’t actually travel to other worlds, then I’d write about them.

What genre(s) do you write?

I’m open to literally any genre within the age of YA. I also write environmental articles for a nonprofit conservation group called ICARUS (The International Consortium for Animal-welfare United in Stewardship) and I’m working on several memoir-type (I’m unsure of precisely how they should be classified) books. At least one of them will utilize some of the amazing photography my sister has produced.

How many books have you written and how many of those have been published?

Um… good question… Let’s see, the easy part is that so far, only one has been published. As for how many have been written, I’m going to go with five-ish. That’s counting Catskin, but not counting two So-Terrible-They-Are-Beyond-Redemption manuscripts.

How many hours a day do you devote to writing?

If only it could be hours every day… Right now, I devote whatever time I can to writing. I worked on a large estate for about 13 years, and that was lovely because I could literally be mucking out stalls, have a plot revelation, and dash into the employee lounge and jot it down in my notebook. Catskin was written while I was working there. When the farm was sold in 2013, and I had to find a more “normal” job, it got more difficult to balance work and writing. Now, I might get up, get the animals fed, and then get a few dozen words out while I’m drinking coffee before work. Since I write all of my first drafts in longhand, it’s a little different from working on the computer.

What is the hardest part of writing?

The hardest part of writing, for me, is defending writing itself–not writing for publishing, but writing for the love of writing–as an art form. Luckily, my immediate (and extended) family is incredibly supportive, and has always just accepted me for myself, but so many people I meet see writing as a hobby, or pointless if I’m not going to live off of it, or become rich through it. I’ve been told that my writing is a waste of time, or that it’s meaningless unless I make money on it, that it “doesn’t count” if it’s not validated somehow. It’s like if you spend your time writing without becoming Stephen King, then you’re just “playing around” and it’s immediately relegated to being invalid as a form of art.

What does your family think of your writing?

As I said above, my family has always been very supportive. I think there have been some quiet, long-drawn sighs at various points, not because anyone thought that writing wasn’t worthwhile, but because they knew what an uphill battle making a living on writing would be, and that I’d more than likely end up working my entire life, just to be able to afford the time to write.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Well, it used to be (when I was working on the farm) that when I wasn’t writing, I was riding horses, roaming the estate (all 600 acres of it) or possibly dancing badly to questionable music. Now, if I’m not writing, I’m usually playing Aunt Waguli to my niece, catching up with yard work or herding cats. My best friend has just bought land nearby, though, so I’m hoping that in the next year, it’ll be shifting more back to riding horses, enjoying brunch on a back deck with my bestie and playing outside on the farm.

What authors do you like to read?

Not fair. I love so many! I’ll cheat and say (without intending to name-drop) that I absolutely love reading authors whom I’ve met and had fun with in real life. It’s hysterical, and amazing, to see their own personalities, beliefs, and even sayings, shine through their characters. It’s like reconnecting with little bits of them even when we’re not together. I’m currently working my way through all of Rosemary Clement-Moore’s books, and I’ve already read (and reread) most of Tamora Pierce, Janni Lee Simner, Cindy Pon, Rae Carson and Malinda Lo’s books. There are so many others, but those are off the top of my head. Side note, I met all of these amazing writers at the annual Sirens Conference. If you’re at all hesitant about attending conferences, I urge you to check out Sirens, it’s an amazing place.

Do you have future projects in mind?

Always. I’m a multiple WIPs at a time person, so while I might be buckled down working on one specific project, it’s completely normal for me to be thinking about another one, or maybe roughly outlining several. I’m mostly a panster, but I like to know my main characters, and have a least a few points leading toward where they’ll eventually end up.

Do you write every day?

Virtually. I’ve had some health issues the last couple of years, and it’s interrupted my obsessive Must Write Every Day compulsion simply because there have been days (sometimes several in a row) where I was in too much pain and discomfort to do anything but rest and feel horrible that I wasn’t writing. But *normally* I write something every day, even if it’s just one sentence or a jotting down a story idea.

How did your writing journey begin?

If you mean literally my writing itself (not journey to publication) it started out with oral stories. My Mother is from up in the mountains of West Virginia, and I grew up listening to my Grandmother’s stories, both accounts of things that had happened in her childhood, as well as ghost stories, and hollow tales, and then I’d tell my own stories to my toy horses. Eventually I started writing them down, and that turned into a “book” which was never finished. I finally stopped working on it when it was well over a thousand pages long (all hand written) and I realized that it was just me as a character with all of my favorite other characters from other books tagging along on endless adventures with no actual plot.

What’s the best thing about being a writer?

I think the best thing about being a writer is that when I was younger, I can remember arguing with adults (not my parents) about growing up, and I swore vehemently that I would never grow up and forget what it was like to be a child. I can remember vowing to forever defy anything that looked down on childhood and the innocence of it. I would be the way I am no matter what, but being a writer means that I can share all of those cherished bits of childhood with people all over the world. And, in a world where the majority of adults look at you like you’ve had a break with reality if you go climbing trees, or running through botanical gardens barefooted, saying “I’m a writer.” usually stops them from calling security on you!

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Read whatever genre you write, and write until your fingers bleed. Also, look inside yourself and learn why you’re a writer. Some people write to say things, some write to enlighten others, some have the goal of being a best seller, and others write just because they need to bleed words onto paper even if it never gets them a dollar and no one ever reads it. No one type of writer is better, or more correct, but knowing what matters most to you about your writing, and what your goals are will help you structure how you go about putting your writing out into the world, and how you develop your own platform.

Social Media Links:

Blog: https://greyvale.wordpress.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/artemis.grey

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/Artemis-Grey-851681138247610

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GreyArtemis

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Artemis-Grey/e/B0089BO30U

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6154946.Artemis_Grey

Email: greyvaledesigns@gmail.com



Shy, eighteen-year-old albino, Ansel, thought that letting the runaway girl with the injured ankle sleep in his parents’ shed was a good idea. That was before she passed out in his shower, woke up in a panic and accidentally attacked him. Any average guy would have called the cops but average isn’t Ansel’s style.

When she refuses to tell him her real name, Ansel nicknames the girl Catskin, after one of his favorite fairytale characters, and begins the dubious task of earning her trust. It’s not an easy thing to do, but a few awkward conversations later, one thing is clear: Catskin doesn’t want to be the way she is, she just doesn’t think she can change. Ansel knows from his own experiences that seeing the world around you differently doesn’t mean that you’re wrong, something he intends to teach Catskin.

While the details of her past remain elusive, Catskin creates a new place for herself with Ansel and his family, and develops her own brand of normalcy. Then a terrible accident leaves her hovering near death, and Ansel is forced to contact her estranged parents. But there are secrets hidden in the life Catskin left behind. Dark secrets that chased her all the way to Healy, Alaska and Ansel’s actions unknowingly provoke a shocking confrontation between the wealthy world Catskin was born into, and the starkly average one she now shares with Ansel.

Refusing to give up the imperfect girl who fits perfectly inside his heart, Ansel prepares to go to war with Catskin’s father. But in the end, Catskin might be the only one who can save herself.

Buy Links:


Barnes & Noblehttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/catskin-artemis-grey/1123543424?ean=2940157746711



(Ansel and his husky-dog Zombie have just convinced Catskin–who has yet to be nicknamed–back to the shed where she slept so she can eat the breakfast Ansel made for her.)

Fighting off another blush, I stood and turned back for her. Ethan would have swept her onto her feet. But I wasn’t Ethan, and I didn’t have the gonads. All I could manage was to hold out a hand. She ignored me and got to her feet alone, finding her balance. She favored the injured ankle but it held when she put weight on it. My fingers itched with a sudden desire to support her, to help her bear her own meager weight.

Who was I kidding? This entire help-the-crazy-waif idea had disaster written all over it in letters ten feet high. But somehow, knowing it was a bad idea made me like the idea. For some reason, doing what didn’t make sense just felt like the sensible thing to do. She needed help, and I wanted to give it to her. Instead of wanting to avoid the girl, like I did everyone else, I had an absurd desire to throw myself in front of her like Superman stopping a train before it crashed.

The eggs were stone cold by the time we got to the book shed. The girl didn’t care. She snatched up the plate and sat on the floor using her fingers, rather than the fork, to shovel food into her mouth. Zombie made like he intended to share breakfast with her, forcing his head between her elbow and side. He had second thoughts when she grumbled at him in a wordless growl. I wanted to talk to her, but I didn’t know where to start. Well, besides the obvious.

“My name’s Ansel,” I said.

By then I didn’t expect her to respond. I didn’t expect her to be interested in whatever I said, either. So when she looked up from her food with those hollow eyes I was stupefied for a moment.

Finally, I managed to say, “My brother, Ethan, calls me Ans.”

She cut her gaze around, wary and untrusting.

“He’s not here,” I assured her. “No one comes to the book shed but me, usually. Pipe Dream, the bookstore my parents own, is a hundred yards that way.” I pointed to one wall, shivering when she fixed her eyes on me again instead of looking where I was pointing. I felt my skin turn the color of hot sauce and gritted my teeth.

“I live above it most of the time, since I finished with school. My family’s house is a couple of miles outside Healy. Ethan’s there with our younger brother, Ellis. My parents are up north visiting family for a few weeks.”

Just go on and babble, Ansel. Throw out your whole life story in the first five minutes.

She released me from her penetrating gaze and let Zombie pre-rinse the breakfast plate. You’d think I’d have figured out not to gawk at her by then, but my eyes kept getting stuck. More scars transected her hands and fingers. Most were almost flat. Just ghostly silver lines. But some were newer. Bright pink. Maybe the same age as the messy one on her neck. The ones on her neck. I could see, now, there were really two of them. One ran straight down to her collarbone and one branched off, curving under her jaw.

Something—or someone—had cut her throat.



Using My Emotions





Sometimes life is hard. Pressures mount, and obstacles have come my way causing me to want to shut down. On the flip side, there are times when contentment, even euphoria has claimed my day.


For a writer, the ability to recall our feelings in that moment is golden. Using our arsenal of emotions brings enrichment to one’s writing. It aids in giving the characters depth. Emotional triggers will pull the reader into the plot. To obtain a following of readers who enjoy our stories, we must make this a priority. Emotionless writing won’t sell books.

How can you store emotions from personal experience until you’re ready to integrate them into a story? Journaling is an excellent way to do this. Get in the habit of journaling, if not daily, perhaps after a challenging or happy experience. Your journal is now an easily accessible writing reference, helpful when attempting to ‘show don’t tell’ as you construct your scene. Recalling how you felt in a particular situation, the internal sensations and mental responses, can make your characters human and their reactions believable.

A writer’s work holds a part of himself. Don’t be afraid to share yourself and shine in the world of authors.


Feel free to comment on a method you use to fill your manuscript with emotion.

Fearless Of The Fall


Please join me in welcoming Amanda Hess…


Everything crumbled after Abby’s tragedy, even her close friendship with Jesse. But Ashleigh never leaves her, and doesn’t press for details. Distanced from everyone else, Abby finds solace in riding Motocross. After Jesse steps back into Abby’s life and offers his friendship once more, things slowly begin to return to normal. But explaining her reason for not speaking to him for seven months is too traumatic for Abby to reveal.

Just when it seems they’re becoming more than friends, Abby and Jesse face a horrific storm, which incredibly brings them into an even closer proximity. Due to the overwhelming damage, Jesse and his family stay at Abby’s house for a while. However, passing in the upstairs hallway at home is vastly different than passing in the hallway at school. Something between them has changed, and not for the better.

There are so many things that go unspoken, including Abby’s upcoming departure for college out of state, but neither of them seems to be able to connect. Maybe it’s best they just remain friends so that Abby can focus only on the upcoming Motocross competition.

But the arrival of Pamela, a pretty transfer student and fellow rider, complicates everything and Jesse makes a huge mistake.

Can Abby forgive him? Or will Pamela win everything?



“Come on Abby, we have to go to the basement.” Jesse shook my shoulder.

“But, why?’’ I complained, hearing a weird sound I couldn’t place.

“The storm has gotten worse. We need to get in the basement now!” He urged me pulling me up by the hand and running down the hall to the basement steps.

We hurried down the steps as this noise grew louder. My sinuses ached and my head felt like it was being squeezed. Jesse threw me in a closet pulling the door shut behind him. He pushed me as far into the back corner as he could. Pulling me down to the floor, he threw a heavy blanket over us. My mind was slowly registering what was going on. I started to shake. Jesse picked up on this and gathered me up in his arms tightly.

“I am right here Abby. We will be okay.” He whispered in the dark.

“Jess-“I started to say as a horrible noise came from outside the door.

I threw my hands over my ears and screamed. Jesse pulled my head into his chest shielding me while he gathered the rest of my body on his lap.

“It’s okay baby, everything will be alright,” he cooed in my ear.

The house shook all around us. Things were falling in on us from the shelves in the closet. I could feel the air rushing under the crack of the door. I heard the door being ripped off and felt the wind rushing all around us. I could hear myself whimpering. Jesse held on to me tightly. I kept my eyes tightly shut and prayed.

“It’s okay baby, almost over.” Jesse shouted over the noise. I held on tighter. I whimpered from the pain in my head and sinuses.

“You’re okay Abby, everything will be okay!”

It felt like time was standing still.

When the shaking of the house slowly stopped and everything seemed to calm down, I slowly released my death-grip on Jesse and opened my eyes one at a time. My brain could not put together what my eyes saw. Through where the closet door had been in the basement I could see the sky. I looked wildly at Jesse, who had some blood on his face and arm. I quickly disentangled myself from him and began giving him the once-over. He had been hit by some debris that cut a small space on his cheek. Most of the damage was on his arm. Nothing serious, but enough to be messy. He was checking me for injuries the same time I was working on cleaning up his arm with the blanket. He seemed satisfied with the results and pulled me hard against him in a crushing hug. I returned his sentiments just as violently.

“Abby, I am so glad you are alright.” He whispered with tears in his eyes.

“I am fine Jess, are you sure that you are okay?” I asked, tears swimming in my eyes.

“We are alive, thank God!” Jesse praised sniffing. A tear escaped from my eye and rolled down my cheek.

“Abby-“Jesse groaned meeting my eyes and thumbing away the tear. He kissed me softly on the lips, it wasn’t long, but it made my insides turn to jelly.





A Pennsylvania native, Amanda and her family moved to North Carolina three years ago. She is happily married with three children and a granddaughter.

A lover of all things creative, she will try whatever art of craft is out there.

You can usually find her doing one of four things; reading, writing, playing piano, or working on her embroidery machine.

Though Amanda has been writing since grade school, this is her first published book.

Author’s Social Media Links:


Twitter @AmandaHesswritr

Instagram, fearlessofthefall



Author Interview

Welcome, J. Andersen. Thanks for sharing a part of yourself with us.


There’s not much to do growing up in a small town in Western, NY, so J. Andersen wrote stories and won high school writing contests. But in college her writing was limited to term papers. While teaching middle school she began to read young adult books and got serious about writing. She now writes full time, volunteers at the town library, helps to run a School of the Arts at her church, and sings in the church band. She enjoys good coffee—read: home roasted by her husband—crafts, baking, and chasing after her children. You’ll rarely see J. without a book in her hands, and that’s the way she’d like to keep it.



When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

Well, if you ask my mom, who found a elementary writing assignment called “Marvelous Me”, I wanted to be a writer since the third grade when I wrote my first book called, Harry the Frog. After that, I remember saying I wanted to write a book when I was twelve, but I never wrote much more than short stories until I began teaching middle school and was reading what the students read. Then the bug really hit. Now I stay at home, raise my kiddos and write.

What genre(s) do you write?

YA always. As subgneres: Dystopian and Contemporary

How many books have you written and how many of those have been published?

Let’s see, I have 1 contemporary published: At What Cost

1 contemporary with my agent: Wait

1 contemporary in the works: Dear Daughter

I have 1 dystopian published: The Breeding Tree

1 dystopian contracted with the same publishing house: BOOK 2 of The Breeding Tree

And 1 dystopian waiting: Impact: BOOK 3 of The Breeding Tree

I also have 1.5 that will never see the light of day and probably shouldn’t even be mentioned. So that’s 7.5.

How many hours a day do you devote to writing?

It varies per day. Honestly, I go more for the week. Actual writing time, I try for 1-4 hour long sprints. I’ve discovered sprints work well for me. Focused writing in short spurts. The rest of the time is spent, editing, planning, marketing, etc.

What’s more important: character or plot?

Can you actually separate the two? I think they both influence each other so much that picking just one as important doesn’t work. I’ve found with this book I’m working on now, I didn’t know the character, so I couldn’t really figure out the plot because I didn’t know how she’d react to situations.

What is the hardest part of writing?

The actual writing. I’m a much better editor. Once I have a chunk of work to pick at, I’m good, but getting it down that first time is like yanking out all my hair one strand at a time.

What does your family think of your writing?

My mom and dad are proud. My son told me The Breeding Tree was the best book he’d ever read and he wasn’t just saying that because I was his mom. My daughter wants to be an author. My hubs is very supportive. My extended family thinks it’s cool to know a real author, but I think at the same time they all wonder what really goes on in my head!

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Read, binge watch Netflix, teach essential oil classes, work with kids at our church’s School of the Arts where we form youth bands, spend time with family.

What authors do you like to read?

Pretty much anyone who writes YA. I like Laurie Halse Anderson and Neal Shusterman, but I have discovered that there are some amazing stories written by authors who haven’t contracted with the Big 5. Many of these are my friends like Kelly Martin and Brenda Baker.

Do you have future projects in mind?

Always. I have a book of one liners or ideas to keep me busy for a while.

What is your favorite genre to read?


Do you write every day?

I wish. I have a toddler at home. If I can get a few hours a week in, I’m doing well.

How did your writing journey begin?

I was reading what my students were reading and kept thinking that I could write as good if not better than some of the authors with books on my shelf. So I gave it a go.

How do you deal with writer’s block?

Push through it. I get stuck often. I have to keep myself writing. Sometimes just talking things out with a few writer-ly type people helps. I’ve been cranking away at a manuscript that has been giving me fits! I’m a planner, and I couldn’t see where this manuscript was going. Finally, after brainstorming with a few friends, I have new vision and direction. I’m excited to write again.

What’s the best thing about being a writer?

The coffee. Lol. No really, I love making my own schedule. I write when I want to and don’t when I don’t. I get to sit around and create things all day. How cool is that?

What motivates you to write?

Readers who love my work. Every once in a while I’ll get a message or a post on Facebook saying how much they loved my book. That gets me going every time! I think it’s true for all authors, so if you love a book, let the author know!

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Don’t give up. Keep writing and keep learning about writing. I think we get stuck in the “I’m a writer, so I know how to write” mode. There is always something new to learn or try in our own work.

Places to connect with this author:

Website: https://www.jandersenbooks.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jandersenbooks

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JVDLAndersen

Goodreads: https://goodreads.com/jvdlandersen

Instagram: https://instagram.com/jvdlandersen

Snapchat ID: jvdlandersen

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/jvdlandersen/



The Breeding Tree


Is the opportunity to create the next generation of life a dream come true or a deadly nightmare?
When seventeen year old Katherine Dennard is selected to become a “Creation Specialist” in Sector 4, the opportunity sounds like a dream come true. But Kate soon discovers the darker side of her profession – the disposal of fetal organs and destruction of human life. It makes sense, really. In a society where disease and malformations don t exist, human perfection demands that no genetic “mutants” be allowed to live. For Sector 4, “survival of the fittest” is not just a theory – it’s The Institute’s main mission.

When Kate discovers that The Institute is using her DNA to create new life, her work gets personal. In order to save her unviable son, she’ll have to trust Micah and his band of underground Natural Born Rebels. The problem is, if The Institute discovers her betrayal, the next body being disposed of could be hers.





This entry was posted on April 1, 2016. 2 Comments

Different by E.A. West

I’m pleased to welcome once again E.A.West to my blog and spotlight another of her novels.



E.A. West, award-winning author of sweet and inspirational romance, is a lifelong lover of books and storytelling. In high school, she picked up her pen in a creative writing class and hasn’t laid it down yet. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading, knitting, and crocheting. She lives in Indiana with her family and a small zoo of pets.

Social Media:

Website: http://eawest.mcphitty.com

Blog: http://thewestcorner.wordpress.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/EA-West/34280264617

Twitter: http://twitter.com/eawest

Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/authoreawest

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/authoreawest

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/eawest

Anything can happen when the rules change.


Jezebel Smith is different. She can’t talk, she doesn’t look like anyone in her family, and no matter what she does it’s always the wrong thing. God accepts her for who she is, but He’s the only one who does. Then she finds an unconscious man in her favorite cave, and her life is turned upside down. New people and new rules collide with the old, leaving Jezebel unsure of which set of rules apply to her life. When the strangers in town attempt to help her out of the nightmare she’s grown up in, it promises to change her life forever.



Fear shivered through her that he was sleeping so much. One of her brothers had fallen out of a tree once and hit his head, and the doctor said they had to keep him from falling asleep for a while. Jezebel didn’t know if falling off a ledge and hitting his head made the man have to stay awake or not.

After worrying for a while longer, she finally decided she’d have to risk a beating from her parents and go get the doctor. She didn’t know if he’d come, but she had to try. Daniel was the only person to ever treat her kindly, and he needed help.

She put a couple more sticks on the fire so it would keep burning while she was gone, and then she lit the lantern and headed out of the cavern. As she neared the cave entrance, the flame went out. She slowed her steps and followed the faint glow of daylight. Hopefully the doctor had a flashlight. When she stepped into the woods, she set the lantern by the cave entrance and ran toward town. She practiced saying Daniel’s name while she ran, praying the doctor would come if she told him the injured man’s name.

As she neared the edge of town, she slowed down to catch her breath. She hesitantly stepped onto the main road, terrified at the thought of trying to convince the doctor to go with her. She’d learned a long time ago that no one believed her about anything, and since she couldn’t talk, people didn’t understand what she tried to tell them anyway.

A lot of strange cars and people clogged the main street through town, and Jezebel wondered who they were. Unless Reverend Brown was holding one of his many revivals, the town rarely had many visitors. As she continued toward the doctor’s office, a woman carrying a stack of papers walked toward her with a smile. Jezebel stopped, her mind whirling with uncertainty, and the woman handed her a paper.

“We’re looking for this man. He went hiking in this area a couple of days ago and didn’t come back.”

Jezebel studied the sheet in her hands, and her heart skipped a beat. A picture of Daniel stared back, and some words had been printed across the bottom in black ink. She pointed to the photo. “D-Dan… Daniel.”

“That’s right, his name is Daniel,” the woman said, her tone changing a little. “Have you seen him?”

Jezebel nodded and looked back the way she’d come. “C-c-cave.”

“You saw him in a cave?”

She nodded again, excitement rushing through her. For the first time in her life, someone understood what she tried to say. She touched the photograph on the paper, indicating where the cut on Daniel’s head was. Before she could see if the woman understood, she heard her older brother spit out her name. She cringed and felt herself shriveling inside.

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Different-E-West-ebook/dp/B00M0E4ZU0

Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Different-E-West-ebook/dp/B00M0E4ZU0

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1119984134?ean=2940149685615

iTunes: http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/different/id902524507?mt=11

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/different-7


This entry was posted on March 29, 2016. 2 Comments