Today’s Featured Author – K.M. Hodge

Please welcome author K.M. Hodge to my blog. Her latest book, The Sally Ride Chronicle, is a prequel to her Syndicate Born trilogy. And best of all it is FREE until Saturday March 3rd so get your copy today from Amazon!

Interview

Tell us a bit about yourself:

Award winning and USA Today Bestselling author, K.M. Hodge grew up in Detroit, where she spent most of her free time weaving wild tales to spook her friends and family. These days, she lives in Texas with her husband and two energetic boys, and once again enjoys writing tales of suspense and intrigue that keep her readers up all night. Her stories, which focus on women’s issues, friendship, addiction, regrets and second chances, will stay with you long after you finish them. When she isn’t writing or being an agent of social change, she reads Independent graphic novels, watches old X-files episodes, streams Detroit Tigers games and binges on Netflix with her husband.

If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what would it be?

I started my first novel at the tender age of 18, but my own feelings of inadequacy prevented me from finishing the novel. The novel, Red on the Run, didn’t get completed until eighteen years later. The novel eventually got picked up by a publisher and went on to win the Pinnacle Book Achievement Award for Thrillers. My advice to my younger self would be to complete the book and not give up.

How long on average does it take you to write a book?

While it took me eighteen years to write my first novel, the others have gone by much faster. In the last three years I have written almost nine novels and published seven. The fastest book I wrote was my Syndicate-born novel: Black and White Truth, which took me 60 days to write.

Please tell us about your current release.

My latest release, The Sally Ride Chronicle–A Syndicate-born Prequel, gives a look at what drove Sally Ride to become a spy and take down the Syndicate. Readers asked me to write more about my characters Sally and Alex. According to the current reviews, I met reader expectations.

If you could be one of the characters from any of your books, who would it be and why?

I would absolutely be the character Sally. She is a strong, determined and feisty gal. She preservers through intense situations and fights even when it seems like all hope is gone. Her evolution through the series was the most interesting and fun to write.

Book Blurb

The Syndicate doesn’t believe in divorce, but murder is another story.

Sally wants out—out of her marriage, out of the mob, out of Ocean City. An impossible dream. That is until the MDNA, a secret hacktivist group, invites her to join the ranks of their rebellion. The goal? Take down the criminal empire.

She’s no Jane Bond, but no one in her town suspects the quiet church-going mom is a threat, especially The Syndicate’s criminal defense attorney, Michael David, who’s got a thing for mysterious blondes. His love-’em-and-kill-’em exploits, and his penchant for causing witnesses to disappear, make him enemy number one for the hacktivist group. Sally’s mission sounds simple enough—destroy the lawyer’s life and make him pay—but….

Once she starts, there’ll be no turning back.

Follow Sally as she attempts the unthinkable—take down the largest crime ring in US history—in this prequel to The Syndicate-Born Trilogy.

About the Author 

Award winning and USA Today Bestselling author, K.M. Hodge grew up in Detroit, where she spent most of her free time weaving wild tales to spook her friends and family. These days, she lives in Texas with her husband and two energetic boys, and once again enjoys writing tales of suspense and intrigue that keep her readers up all night. Her stories, which focus on women’s issues, friendship, addiction, regrets and second chances, will stay with you long after you finish them. When she isn’t writing or being an agent of social change, she reads Independent graphic novels, watches old X-files episodes, streams Detroit Tigers games and binges on Netflix with her husband. K.M. Hodge truly enjoys hearing from her readers, so don’t be shy about dropping her an email or say hit on social media: Facebook, Twitter and Google+.

You can get The Sally Ride Chronicle on Amazon for FREE through March 3.

Today’s Featured Author – Vasant Davé

Today, I would like to welcome author Vasant Davé to my blog. Please enjoy this excerpt from his historical novel Trade Winds to Meluhha. 

Excerpt – Chapter 7

Swells higher than a man’s height rocked Captain Paravar’s ship. His sailors sniggered as Sam sat at the base of the mast, gripping it like a child hugging its mother. Although he was used to the howling desert winds, he had never heard such ominous rumbling every time the lightning stabbed the darkness. The waves slapped the vessel whose woodwork screeched eerily, making Sam wish he could shut his ears just like his eyes.

Had fate saved him from execution only to drown him at sea?

Shouts accompanied by a fluttering sound told Sam that several sailors were busy taking down the sail. From the Captain’s bellows, Sam guessed that he was fighting hard along with his sailors to drain out the deluge of water from the vessel.

Perhaps the situation was not as grim as he feared. Shouldn’t he too perform his duty? “The foal would have been scared to death by now,” was his first thought.

He got up like a child learning to walk, and tottered to the animal. One look at it threw the storm out of his mind. It lay sprawled on the deck, soaked to the skin and staring at the sky.

Sam’s arms slipped around the foal’s neck, and he broke down.

He was not aware when the storm showed signs of abetting, and the sailors started gathering around him. A hand gripped his shoulder. He knew it was the Captain, but was unable to look up and meet his eye.

Then he heard the Captain’s soothing voice. “We could save it from man, but not from nature. Perhaps it was its destiny to be buried at sea.”

As the Captain’s footsteps retreated, Sam thought that his palm sensed a throb. He sat up and perceived a weak pulse. Spinning around, he shouted. A couple of sailors ran to bring warm water and dry cloth as he bade. Another hurried to fetch an earthen pot containing smouldering coal to start a fire.

Cajoling the foal, Sam cleaned and rubbed its limbs. Little by little he poured warm broth into its mouth. He saw its hide shiver, and then its chest heave. Then it neighed as if under unbearable pain. He patted and cheered it. “Captain,” he yelled, “your little one has got over the worst.”

Sam heard the Captain hollering ‘thanks’, and then asking his deputy to set free one of the two rock doves in the cage. They watched the bird taking off towards the stern and fluttering away. “Turn her around,” ordered the Captain.

As the crew started the exercise, Sam went to the head sailor and said, “Why did you release the pigeon? Wasn’t it meant for the Captain’s dinner?”

“No,” said the head sailor. “Those birds are our best friends. When we lose our way at sea, we release a dove. It always flies away in the direction of land.”

Sam saw the Captain studying the mast which whipped at the top. There was concern on his face. Summoning two sailors, he instructed them. They tied a piece of rope around their waists and scaled the mast. Suspended high above the deck, they commenced a long struggle to fix a supporting strut to the mast.

The foal had slipped into a nap and Sam watched the Captain with interest as he gave periodic instructions with one eye on the sky. At one point he said, “There, the Vata-miin is now visible. Get me the kamal.”

Following his gaze, Sam recognised the Pole Star Thuban shining in the northern sky. The head sailor came, carrying a wooden card with a hole in its centre through which passed a string. The Captain held the string between his teeth and moved the card to and fro at the Thuban. Then he marked a position on the string with a knot.

He walked towards his cabin, measuring the length from the knot to the card with his fingers. The head sailor ran ahead of him, lighted a couple of lamps and flung open an ebony chest. Selecting a tome of barks from several stored inside, the Captain studied it for quite some time. “We’re somewhere near Sutantoru¹-on-Sea,” he announced at last, and strode to the rudder to take charge.

Around midnight, an excited cry woke up everybody. The Captain strained to see in the direction pointed by the sailor. “Yes,” he agreed, “we were closer to the port than I reckoned.”

Sam discerned a weak flicker of light far away. “That’s one of your regular ports of call, isn’t it?” he asked.

“No, it’s one port that prefers foreign ships to our own.”

“Any ship, whether local or foreign, pays the port for the facilities, doesn’t it?”

“Sutantoru has its reasons,” said the Captain. “One, the monsoons don’t affect its route to Suméru as they do in Alatinam and Port Lothal. This port is accessible to Sumérian ships all the year round.”

Sam waited for him to continue, but there was silence. He turned to see the Captain’s face in the dark. “What is another?”

“Sutantoru is notorious for some sort of slavery, which would never be permitted at other ports.”

“Slavery? With Sumér?”

With a sigh, the Captain started walking towards his cabin. Sam considered it best to resolve an issue that was on his mind. Catching up, he said: “The foal is too weak to continue the voyage, Captain. Shall we leave it in Sutantoru?”

“I can’t abandon it, Samorist.”

Sam thought that since he did not know where Hiwa Haqra lived, he might as well start his search from Sutantoru-on-Sea rather than from Port Lothal. “I’ll go along with the baby if its buyer provides me shelter and food,” he said.

The Captain shook his head. “Who will buy a sick animal?”

“It’s not just any animal,” said Sam, and he immediately realized that he had given away annoyance in his voice. He quickly added, “As I told you, Captain, it’s going to grow up into a lovely mare.”

“To the people who have never seen a horse, Samorist, it’s no more than an exotic breed of donkey.”

Sam considered it practical to postpone his search for Hiwa Haqra till the foal had grown up. A mare could be an invaluable help in Meluhha, the land of long distances.

“Suppose nobody takes it away, Captain,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay back in Sutantoru to look after it.”

Book Blurb

Samasin, an orphaned stable boy, rushes to help a foreigner sprawled with a slashed neck in a deserted tavern. Gasping for the last breath, the stranger presses a fish-hook in his hand and pleads, ‘Give to Siwa Saqra.’ Just then, a crowd rushes in and accuses the bewildered youngster of the Meluhhan’s murder. In order to clear his name from the stigma of manslaughter, Sam must hunt down the killer.

He flees Babylon under the darkness of night, and shivering violently, swims to a ship setting sail for Meluhha. Unknowingly, he has embarked on pursuit of an evil trade wrecking the lives of many a young Mesopotamian. A severe monsoon storm, besides ravaging their little vessel, blows it off its course. During his journey in exotic Meluhha, Sam survives several situations which would have cost him his life. However, it never occurs to the naïve stable boy that a powerful foe does not want him to see Siwa.

Sam encounters Siwa’s haughty daughter who takes an instant dislike for the grinning young man seemingly because he hails from Mesopotamia. Her slim dark form and long swinging hair steal his heart. With an eye on her as she hovers in the background, he sees Siwa staring blankly at the fish-hook and his jaw drops. Who else did the dead man actually intend to convey the ‘message’?

Inspired by Thor Heyerdahl’s voyage in a reed ship across Persian Gulf and Arabian Sea, TRADE WINDS TO MELUHHA is an adventure unfolding between two ancient lands of Mesopotamia and Indus Valley Civilization.

About the Author 

As a retired engineer walked through the ruins of Lothal in Western India, his mind went back to his childhood in the Kenyan port of Mombasa where, as school boy, he used to be awed by wooden dhows sailing out to the open sea. The tourist guide was showing a gigantic rectangle made from bricks on the ground level. It was almost filled to the brim with soil, “to preserve it from erosion”, he said. “It’s the world’s oldest excavated port,” he added, “which was used by Indus Valley ships trading with Mesopotamia.”

Maritime trade across 3,000 Km of sea when iron was not yet discovered, and the magnetic compass was unkown? That query set Vasant Davé on a search for more information about both the Bronze Age civilizations, which ultimately resulted in the writing of the historical novel ‘Trade winds to Meluhha’.

During his professional career, Vasant had provided Industrial Market Research services to corporate clients in Australia, China, Germany, Hong Kong, India, Israel, Singapore, the UK and the USA. His articles/anecdotes were published in Readers’ Digest, Economic Times, Business India, Dawn, Telematics India, Studio Systems and Shankar’s Weekly.

You can connect with Vasant on Facebook, Twitter or his website.

You can purchase Trade Winds to Meluhha on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo Store and Smashwords.

 

Today’s Featured Author – Maggie Spence

Today I welcome author Maggie Spence to my blog. Her second novel, The Johnson Project, came out March. (You can buy it on Amazon.)

Interview

Tell us a bit about yourself.

I’m a mom in a northern suburb of Chicago with three active kids and a wonderful husband. I’ve been writing since I can remember and my imagination takes me to crazy places which end up in a Word document which ultimately turns into a book.

 Please tell us about your current release.

It’s about a doctor who is frustrated with unplanned pregnancies and worldwide child abuse. He finds himself in a position to do something about it and makes that choice. I think we’ve all read the heartbreaking stories of child abuse and wondered why some people are allowed to procreate. I started thinking about what the world would look like if pregnancy could never be an accident, it had to be planned by two willing people. The Johnson Project was born. No pun intended.

What kind of research did you do for this story?

Tons! I learned so much about human rights around the world. I should say the LACK of human rights especially when it comes to children. The research was difficult to absorb and discouraging. I first intended to keep the story in the United States but was moved to go international by what I learned from the research. As an American, I’m pretty cocooned in my first world life.

Which of your characters is your favorite? Do you dislike any of them?
The whole crazy Johnson family are my favorites and I wish they were real so I could hang out with them. That would be a party! Except Penny because she’s horrible.

Have you started your next project? If so, can you share a little bit about your next book?

I am working on a cozy hometown kind of mystery not nearly as intense as The Johnson Project.

If you could pick two authors to meet, who would it be and why?
Easy. Stephen King and Anne Rice. I admire both of them so much, not just for their incredible talent but for their encouragement to hacks like me.

Book Blurb

It’s 2017 and the Aqar virus has infected every female on the planet and left only one lasting consequence: Infertility. No more babies. The end of the human race is imminent until a renowned fertility specialist finds the cure but he’s not ready to let just anybody become a parent. Ted Johnson and his family have formed a team to decide which couples have earned the right to be called mommy and daddy. Their expectations are steep. Their motives are questioned. Their lives are threatened. The Johnsons never considered procreation a right, rather, a privilege. The world fights back.

About the Author

Maggie Spence is an award winning author from Libertyville, IL where she resides with her husband and three children.

You can find out more about her on Facebook.

You can purchase The Johnson Project on Amazon, Amazon UK and Amazon CA.

Today’s Featured Author – Belinda G. Buchanan

Today, I welcome author Belinda G. Buchanan to my blog. In September 2015, she released a stand-alone sequel to her mystery/thriller, The Monster of Silver Creek. Here is an excerpt from her latest – Tragedy at Silver Creek.

Excerpt -Chapter One

Cheryl Collins breathed sporadically through her mouth and nose, trying, without success, to ease the contraction that was currently slicing through her body.

“You’re doing great, Cheryl.”

Grimacing, she looked between her parted knees at Dr. Jensen, whose gloved hands were resting against the innermost part of her thighs, as he studied the fetal monitor beside his shoulder.  Two nurses—one, a thin redhead with a diamond stud protruding from the fold in her chin, and the other, an older, frumpy brunette with a dour expression—stood on either side of him, staring at her nether region.

Cheryl closed her eyes, wishing that the intimate act of giving birth did not have to involve being seen naked by half the staff of Memorial Hospital.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

The familiar touch of Jack’s hand swept across her skin, yet she chose to keep her eyes shut, fearing that any movement, no matter how small, would bring about another contraction.

“All right, Cheryl, on the next one, I want you to push.”

Jack slipped his arm behind her shoulders.  “On the next one, you push.”

Cheryl felt her lips fold in on themselves as she glanced over at her husband.  For the past two hours, he had been repeating everything the doctor had said.  “Jack?”

“I’m right here,” he answered, patting her on the forearm.

She clutched the front of his shirt, uncaring that she’d also grabbed a handful of his chest hairs, and pulled him towards her.  Pausing to draw a shallow breath, she then proceeded to tell him to shut up in the nicest way possible—only to have her words replaced by a cry as another contraction took hold.

“Give me a big push, Cheryl.”

Jack helped her sit up, and she bared down the best she knew how.

“Okay,” said Jensen, watching the monitor, “relax for a moment.”

Exhausted and drenched in sweat, Cheryl let go of Jack’s shirt and fell back against the bed, hoping that the next one wouldn’t come for a while; however, in reality, she knew that she probably had a minute, at best.

As those precious seconds ticked by, the sun began to filter through the open slats of the dark metal blinds, enveloping the tiny room in a suffocating heat.  Cheryl pressed the side of her cheek into the edge of the pillow, seeking comfort in the coolness of its cotton fabric as she waited for the inevitable to return.

“It’s almost over,” Jack whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Incapable of answering him at the moment, Cheryl moved her head up and down in the hopes that it resembled a nod.  Earlier this morning, she had been awakened, from what could only be described as a restless sleep, to find her side of the sheets, as well as the mattress, soaking wet; it was a discovery that had brought her, along with a frantic Jack, to the emergency room.  Now, five hours and ten centimeters later, she lay in a hospital bed—with her legs spread perversely apart—about to deliver her first child.  It was a moment that was as surreal as it was sobering, as the last two weeks had been the hardest she had ever known.

The sound of the baby’s heartbeat echoed off the sterile white walls, causing a surge of desire to suddenly rise and fall inside Cheryl.  She was a firm believer that joy, as well as hope, could come in many different forms, and it was for this reason that she found herself eagerly anticipating the arrival of her daughter.  Her excitement was momentarily shelved, however, as the pain that she had become all too familiar with wrapped itself around her stomach and began to twist it.

“I need one more push,” Dr. Jensen urged.  “Come on, Cheryl…big, big push!”

Grasping the edge of the bedrails, Cheryl waited for Jack to sit her up, and then, with her teeth clenched, she pushed.  She pushed until her legs trembled.

“Okay, stop.”

Cheryl dug her fingernails into the palm of Jack’s hand as the activity at the foot of the bed increased.  Her breath fell in and out of her in jagged fragments as she kept her eyes locked on Dr. Jensen, searching the crevices in his face for the slightest hint of distress, as time—which had been passing all too quickly just moments before—stood utterly still.

A feeble cry sounded, shattering the thick silence surrounding them.  Relief, in the form of a single sob, came tumbling out of Cheryl’s mouth as ten quivering fingers attached to two tiny arms appeared in her line of sight.

Dr. Jensen thrust a small pair of scissors into Jack’s hand.  “Cut here,” he said, pointing.

The blood drained from Jack’s face as he looked down at the bluish braided rope that bound his wife to his daughter.  The color of his skin went from white, to ashen, to gray as the scissors sank into the cord.  Three ragged snips later, it finally relented.

“Great job, Dad.”  Jensen seemed to be smiling behind his mask as he took the scissors out of his trembling fingers.

Dropping his hand, Jack hurriedly retreated to the safety zone behind Cheryl’s right shoulder.

The nurse finished wrapping the infant in a blanket and came around the bed, offering Cheryl a stoic smile as she placed the baby in her outstretched arms.  Pressing her lips to her daughter’s forehead, Cheryl closed her eyes, pausing to give thanks to God for her…and for allowing Jack to be by her side.

“She’s beautiful.”

Opening her eyes, Cheryl forcibly blinked back her tears as she watched Jack caressing the tips of the baby’s fingers with his own.  For one, fleeting moment, he seemed happy—yet before the smile had fully formed upon his face, it began to fade, and she saw the sadness returning to it as the memory of what he had lost settled back into his heart.

Wanting so badly to take his pain away, Cheryl reached up and touched the side of his cheek, but upon feeling his jaw tighten, realized that it was an effort in futility and stopped.  Withdrawing her hand, she shifted her gaze back to her daughter, refusing to let the darkness overshadow this blessed day.

The nurse with the piercing in her chin leaned across the bed.  “Mrs. Collins?  I’m going to take your daughter to the nursery where they’ll get her cleaned up and weighed.”

“Wait,” said Jack, reaching into his pocket.  “Can I get some pictures, first?”

“Of course,” she answered, taking a step back.

Holding the baby close to her cheek, Cheryl sank farther into the pillow and offered Jack a weary smile.  When he had finished with the pictures, the nurse scooped up the tiny bundle and walked away, leaving her arms empty and cold.

Jack stared at the screen a long time before speaking.  “You gave me a beautiful little girl,” he said in a voice that was as uneven as it was broken.

Feeling her own emotions beginning to churn, Cheryl quickly swung her attention over to Dr. Jensen, who was still sitting between her legs, in the hopes of finding a distraction.  She watched with pretend fascination as he placed an instrument, coated in her own blood, on the tray beside him and stood up.

“All done,” he chirped, removing his mask.

Jack cleared his throat but made no motion to move out from behind Cheryl’s shoulder.  “Thanks, Doc,” he said, offering him an appreciative nod instead.

“It was my pleasure, Collins.”  Jensen stripped off his gloves and ran his fingers through a disheveled mop of silver hair before coming around the side of the bed.  “I’ll check on you later, young lady,” he said, peering down at Cheryl with a pair of bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you.”

He wrapped both of his hands around hers and squeezed.  “Be good now.”

“I will.”

After giving Cheryl his trademark wink—which in the beginning she’d found creepy but now had come to anticipate—Jensen turned and disappeared from the room; yet, as the door swung closed behind him, she was unable to shake the feeling that this time he had done it out of sympathy rather than habit.

The older nurse, whose only interest seemed to be that of doing her job as efficiently and rudely as possible, removed the sheet that had been covering Cheryl’s stomach and upper body, causing a shudder to roll across her shoulders as the cool air blowing down from the vent surrounded her.  Out of the furthest corner of her eye, she noticed Jack shifting his feet as the woman began wiping away the blood from her thighs and perineum.  She touched the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.  “Would you mind calling my parents?  I know they’re dying to hear back from you.”

A look of gratitude, mixed with embarrassment, flooded Jack’s face as he gave Cheryl a small nod.  His blond locks fell against her forehead as he bent down and placed a well-meaning but fragile kiss upon her lips.  “It’s all over,” he whispered.

Cheryl’s sight grew blurry as she watched him turn and walk towards the door with his right arm pressed tight against his side.  The tears that had pooled in the rims of her eyelids silently began to spill down her cheeks.  It was far from over.

Book Blurb

Guilt is a powerful thing, and former deputy Jack Collins is mired in it.  Unable to forget the events that have taken place in the town he was sworn to protect, he feels as if he is slowly drowning as he tries to cope with the aftermath of a serial killer’s reign of terror, as well as his new—and unwanted—job as chief of police.

When the body of a young woman, having the same puncture wounds as the serial killer’s previous victims, is discovered, Jack must determine if this is a copycat crime or the work of a possible accomplice—either of which—could put the killer’s only surviving victim in grave danger.

As Jack delves deeper into the murder, his vow to keep the victim safe, combined with the secret he’s been harboring, begins to take its toll.  His sudden inability to confide in his wife, Cheryl, causes their home, which was once a haven for him, to become just another source of tension.

An overzealous news team, a threat from his not so distant past, and a mayor who wants the murder swept under the rug, only add to the pressure surrounding Jack as he struggles to do what’s right on all levels in this riveting, stand-alone sequel to The Monster of Silver Creek.

About the Author

Belinda G. Buchanan is an author of edgy, women’s fiction & mystery.  Her works include, After All Is Said And Done: A Novel of Infidelity, Healing, & Forgiveness, The Monster of Silver Creek, Seasons of Darkness, and Tragedy at Silver Creek.  When not writing, Belinda enjoys spending time with her family that includes her husband and soulmate of twenty-five years, two sons (one who loves her unconditionally and one who loves her only when not in public), and a menagerie of animals.

You can learn more about Belinda by visiting her website.  She loves to talk almost as much as she loves to write, so come chat with her on facebook or twitter.  And if you’re a pinner, join her on pinterest.

You can purchase her books on amazon, barnes & noble, ibooks, and kobo.

Today’s Featured Author – Eric Drouant

Today, I welcome author Eric Drouant to my blog to talk about Remote, his suspense thriller series.

Interview

Tell us a bit about yourself.

I work for a large company in the defense industry. I guess the most notable aspect of that career has been time spent in Iraq and Afghanistan and plenty of travel to places I never imagined seeing.

Where were you born and where do you call home?

I’m a Louisiana boy, born in Baton Rouge and raised in New Orleans. I currently live just north of the Crescent City along with a pack of kids and an even bigger pack of grandchildren.

What is the best and worst advice you ever received? (regarding writing or publishing)

The best advice I’ve ever heard is to just sit down and start writing. Write anything. It might be good or it might be crap, but you can always toss it or revise it. If you don’t do something, you have nothing. I don’t know about any bad advice. I believe you just have to find something that works for you.

What is the best thing about being a writer? The worst?

This is strange but in one of my short stories I found an incredibly original way to kill a character, which is tough to do. I was proud of that. The worst part, for me, is editing and re-writing.

How do you conceive your plot ideas?

Most of my books have begun with only the vaguest idea of what I want to do. As I move further and further into it, I’ll begin to map out a few ideas. These sometimes come to fruition and sometimes fall by the wayside.

Please tell us about your current release.

Right now, I have a three book series titled REMOTE. The first book, ORIGINS, relates the story of their discovery by a government agency and their struggle to escape being imprisoned and used as a weapon in the Cold War. FATAL, the second in the series, becomes a little more personal, but again the characters are faced with tough situations. The ending of this book caught both myself and some readers by surprise. ARTIST is the third in the series and sets the tone for further books by placing Cassie Reynold, the main focus of the first two books, into an entirely new set of circumstances in her life.

Did the story turn out the way you planned from the beginning? If not, what change happened that you didn’t expect?

The biggest surprise to me was the emergence of Cassie Reynold as the focus of the book. The original concept involved her boyfriend, Ronnie Gilmore, as the main character. As I moved through the writing, Cassie became simply overpowering and grabbed the lead without any help on my part.

Is there a specific place in the house (or out of the house) that you like to write?

I write where I can, which is usually at my kitchen table or in a hotel room on the road. If I could pick any place in the world to write, it would be in a small hotel room in Le Havre, France. Large parts of ARTIST were written t here and that location is the place I’ve been most productive. I don’t know what it is but I would go back there in a minute and I know the words would pour out again.

Book Blurb

When CIA operatives discover that teens Cassie Reynold and Ronnie Gilmore possess uncanny psychic abilities, their seemingly normal existence is catapulted into a world of espionage,mayhem, and cold blooded murder.

Set against the backdrop of the Cold War, these two high-value targets are marked as prey for renegade agent Thorne. Capturing them will cement his position within a clandestine world, rife with danger at every turn.

The year is 1973 and the world has changed. The government is on edge, no one more so than rogue CIA operative Thorne. After discovering the pair of New Orleans teenagers and their paranormal abilities, he is determined to capture them and use them to further his own cause, but doing so will not come easily, especially when the pursuit unleashes the deadliest instinct of Cassie Reynold.

About the Author

Eric Drouant lives in Slidell, La just north of New Orleans. Born and raised in the deep south, the author spends a considerable amount of time on the road. His work has taken him to Iraq, Afghanistan, South America, and several European countries. A lifetime of reading led him to newspaper work, web content writing, and finally, a plunge into fiction.

You can buy Origins and the rest of the Remote series on Amazon.