Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Update & T-shirt campaign


Hello to all the members of my newsletter!
It’s been a long time since I’ve created a newsletter. With the changes in the publishing industry being as they are, I’ve been a bit discouraged with writing, with being an author. I’ve been in a funk, not following my dreams. My muse has been on hiatus, replaced by wine, books and chocolate.
In my teens, I spent hours daydreaming and writing those dreams in a notebook as mini-stories. As I grew older, I stopped creating stories, went to college for something else entirely, got married, had kids and built a family. But the dream always remained.
I wanted to be a published novelist. In 2005, that dream became a reality. I got lucky when a small press loved the first book of the Cursed MacKinnons series. For those who aren’t familiar with it, it’s about seven brothers turned to stone in 1740 Scotland, who are being set free from the curse in today’s time by the women of their destinies. It’s been an awesome series to create. Love those sexy Scottish Lairds. It took six books to save those seven brothers and almost ten years to acquire this feat. It was love, tears and turmoil the whole way.
I’m hopeful their journey will continue. Aunt May wants her story told and it’s in the works. I promise to make this happen somehow for those, who have kindly emailed requesting it. 
Over the past year, my career has taken a different path. I’ve not written a full-length novel in months. I’ve managed to produce two short stories, both of which were published by another small press. Breath of Luck was included in a special edition for the Romantic Times Booklovers Convention in Las Vegas earlier this year.  Lake Chariot is being included in an upcoming horror anthology “Never Fear the Tarot” TBR sometime in November 2016.  At the moment, the cover isn’t available.
I’m forever grateful to all the readers, who enjoy my creations. I simply request patience. There will be more in the future.
The following is a tee shirt that expresses exactly what’s been keeping me going. I think it’s appropriate for all us Book Lovers!
Book Lover’s Basics

Follow the link to get your tee shirt or coffee mug
Purchase yours today!
Book Lovers wear it with pride!

Thank you to all the readers, who encourage me to continue this author path!
I look forward to hearing from you!
Tara Nina

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Cross-posting Warwick Valley Romance Authors blog post! Enjoy!

What the four seasons mean to me. 
 Each has its good points and bad.

Spring brings flowers & Butterflies. 

Summer provides us hot days and sunshine.
Not sure where the summer went this year. We ended ours with a vacation to Tybee Island, Georgia and spent some much needed time with my Dad.

Fall is pumpkin spice lattes, wine, apple picking and cool nights.
These two are trouble. Rake the leaves and they will jump in the pile every time.

Winter equals snuggle weather, fires in the fireplace, and snow.
First snow is always pretty.  By the third or fourth go round, not so much.

All the pictures I've posted are mine to share. I enjoy all four seasons. As I sit here with my first pumpkin spice coffee of the day, I'm doing my best to write this blog and come up with something worthy that someone else would want to read. As an author, I've found that it's difficult to write on occasion. Inspiration is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Sometimes its a struggle. So please forgive me if today, I'm not too interesting. My writing partner tries to help, but doesn't seem to understand the concept of personal space.

I'm sharing a snippet of a short story titled: Lake Chariot, which  has a TBR for (hopefully) November 2016. At the moment, I'm still waiting for the cover from the publisher. This story will be included in the "Fear the Tarot" anthology from 13Thirty Books. BTW, this was my first attempt at horror. It became more of a paranormal with a twisted ghost story.

Lake Chariot
(unedited version)

     Anora reread the first words she’d managed to write in over six months. With the stress of her divorce and the battle with him in court over the rights to her novels, it was refreshing to at least be in front of the computer. All that “he said, she said” scenario had torn her apart. His claim to have been instrumental in the creation of her Josie James mystery novels was ludicrous. The judge initially leaned in his favor. Thank God, her smart attorney requested proof of Tony’s knowledge of the storyline, without using any media devices to retrieve information while in court. When he couldn’t give basic particulars concerning the characters, titles, or plots of any of the thirty-six best sellers in that series, the judge was forced to reconsider. 
     Since there was no prenup, the ass was awarded a decent chunk of her money as reimbursement of all the years he’d worked to support her writing “hobby”. If the judge had known the amount of verbal abuse, the lies, and the humiliation she’d suffered in silence… It didn’t matter. It was over. It wouldn’t have made a difference in the judge’s decision. He was a man and men stuck together. Tony hadn’t been a controlling, manipulative monster when they met, but he turned into one the instant she created a formidable name for herself in the publishing industry. Anora kicked herself daily over that mistake made while wearing the blinders of love and stupidity.
    Hobby! She snorted. The judge called her work a hobby. Her lawyer had soothed her anger by saying he was just jealous that one book alone made double the benchwarmer’s yearly salary. That still made the edge of her lips twitch into a small smile.
     She leaned back, staring at the blinking cursor. Here she sat working on book number thirty-seven. Words whirled around her brain, trying to form a blockbuster start to her latest creation, but what she’d written didn’t ignite her imagination or make her fingers itch to burn up the keyboard.
“Pure crap,” she muttered under her breath. Her finger hovered over the delete key, but never landed.
     She jumped as a bright flash of lightning filled the room, illuminating the shadows that had taken over. Thunder rumbled across the slate shingles of the old cabin on Lake Chariot at the same time a hand landed on her shoulder.