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Showing posts with label Author spotlight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Author spotlight. Show all posts
Earlene Fowler was raised in La Puente, California, by a Southern mother and a Western father which is probably why her Benni Harper series features quilts, cattle, smart-mouthed women, cowboys and a sexy Latino cop. She wrote literary and commercial short fiction for ten years with no publishing success when she decided to change gaits and write a mystery novel.
Earlene's first novel Fool’s Puzzle and two sequels were sold within a week of submission to Putnam-Berkley Publishing Group as one of three lead titles for their new hardcover Prime Crime Line. Fool’s Puzzle was nominated for an Agatha Award for Best First Mystery of 1994. Kansas Troubles, Goose in the Pond, and Dove in the Window were each nominated for an Agatha award for Best Novel. Earlene finally won the Agatha Award for her sixth book Mariner's Compass. It was followed by Seven Sisters,Arkansas Traveler,Steps to the Altar and Sunshine and Shadow, Broken Dishes. It was followed by Delectable Mountains, Tumbling Blocks, and State Fair. In March 2009, she published her second mainstream book, Love Mercy, which is set in Morro Bay, California, and stars a new set of San Celina County characters (Benni and family are minor characters and the book is set eleven years later than the Benni Harper books). Her fifteenth Benni Harper novel, Spider Web, comes out in May 2011. She is currently working on the sequel to The Saddlemaker's Wife.
The Benni Harper mystery series is set on the Central Coast of California in a town remarkably similar to San Luis Obispo. Love Mercy is also set on California's central coast in the town of Morro Bay.
Earlene is an avid lover of quilts, folk art, horses, oral history, cowboy boots (she owns 25 pair), the Central California Coast and country/western music. She lives in Orange County, California, with her husband Allen and Pembroke Welsh Corgi, Boo.
Benni Harper is back in an unforgettable new mystery from national bestselling author Earlene Fowler.
The Memory Festival is a celebration of recollections and loved ones through crafts. But when a local cop is wounded by a mysterious sharpshooter who seems to have a vendetta against the police, Benni fears for her loved ones, especially her police chief husband. Benni is determined to make her hometown safe-before their peaceful street fair becomes a day to remember in the worst way.
* Please complete the form below - do not leave information in the comments - it will not count.
* One entry per person. Duplicate entries will be deleted.
* The contest will end on June 8th at 11:59PM EST; 1 winner will be selected and contacted thereafter.
* Once the winners are contacted, they will have 48 hours to respond to my email or another winner will be chosen (make sure to check your spam filters!).
* Book will be shipped directly from the publisher.
The inspiring, heart-rending story of a father's unwavering love for his son.
David Goldman and his Brazilian wife, Bruna Bianchi, led what appeared to be a happy life in New Jersey. But in June 2004, Bianchi took their four-year-old son, Sean, to Brazil for what she said would be a two- week vacation. Once there, she informed Goldman that she was staying in Brazil-and keeping Sean, setting in motion an international controversy that would eventually reach the highest levels of the U.S. and Brazilian governments. It would be almost five years before David saw Sean again.
What kept David Goldman going when everything looked so hopeless? In A Father's Love, Goldman recounts his extraordinary battle, despite overwhelming odds, to bring his abducted son back home. It is a riveting story full of peculiar ironies, unfathomable elements, threats, and legal twists and turns. Goldman describes in detail the wrenching emotions he went through and how he relentlessly rallied support behind the scenes from both high-level U.S. government officials and national media organizations. Father and son were finally reunited in December 2009, and Goldman writes about the challenges he is now facing as he works to rebuild his relationship with his son, and the advocacy work he is doing on behalf of other children in similar circumstances.
Goldman's unusual story movingly celebrates an ordinary man's incredible love for and loyalty to his son, and his ability to overcome the unimaginable to keep them together. It is a testament to how connected any father and son can be.
About the author ~
David Goldman grew up in Ocean Township, New Jersey, the son of a charter boat captain. A graduate of Virginia Wesleyan College, Goldman found a career modeling and acting in television commercials. He now runs a charter boat business and does advocacy work on international child abduction
* Please complete the form below - do not leave information in the comments - it will not count.
* One entry per person. Duplicate entries will be deleted.
* The contest will end on May 20th at 11:59PM EST; 1 winner will be selected and contacted thereafter.
* Once the winner is contacted, they will have 48 hours to respond to my email or another winner will be chosen (make sure to check your spam filters!).
* Book will be shipped directly from the publisher.
Leann Sweeney was born and raised in Niagara Falls and educated at St. Joseph's Hospital and Lemoyne College in Syracuse, NY. She also has a degree from the University of Houston in behavioral science and worked for many years in psychiatry and as a school nurse; she has retired to write full-time.
She began writing in 1980, fulfilling her lifelong dream. After perfecting her writing skills with classes and a small fortune in writing books, she joined MWA and Sisters in Crime. Now she's in love with both her NAL/Obsidian mystery series: The Yellow Rose Mysteries and the Cats in Trouble Mysteries, and it shows--The Cat, The Quilt and The Corpse was the #1 bestseller on the Independent Mystery Bookseller's List when it debuted and made several top twenty lists for 2009 at bookstores across the country.
Leann is married with two fabulous grown children, a wonderful son-in-law and a beautiful daughter-in-law--not to mention grandaughter Maddison Grace (Maddie). She has lived in Texas since 1974 and resides in Friendswood, Texas with husband Mike, her three cats, and Rosie--the smart, retrieving, golf-ball chasing, busy-busy-busy mini-labradoodle.
THE KITTIES!
Leann's Cats:
Indigo is a sable point Himalayan, the top cat in the Sweeney household. Indigo is a brilliant kitty who loves quilts and gets so excited whenever the sewing stuff comes out. Her favorite toy is a measuring tape. She was born in '95.
Agatha Christie is a tortie exotic shorthair, a former show kitty who asked to come home with Leann. She is a sweet, sweet lap kitty, now of delicate health, who stays close to Leann. Agatha was born in '96
Archie Goodwin is a tuxedo cat--a starving grocery store foundling. Now he's big and gorgeous and quite the comedian. Archie was born in '98.
The Cats in Trouble Cast--all Katrina rescues:
Merlot is a red tabby Maine coon cat who weighs twenty pounds: Ninja protector cat!
Syrah is a sorrel (with chocolate ticking) Abyssinian: Jillian Hart's top cat--quiet, smart, and can even open doors.
Chablis is a sable point Himalayan with crystal blue eyes: Loving and a little clueless, but a great mouser; always wants to be on Jillian's lap.
Cat quilter Jillian Hart finds a gorgeous stray cat belonging to the fabulously wealthy Ritaestelle Longworth, who believes she's being drugged. Before Jillian can get to those charges, a body turns up in the lake-and her cat Chablis finds Ritaestelle nearby. Can Jillian's cats aid her in solving a mystery with decades old roots?
First time I meet someone in person, they almost always say, “How does such a nice girl like you write such dark books?”
The answer: Beats me. I was raised in suburbia by two accountants. Normal childhood, normal house, normal family. Maybe this is simply what so much normalcy does to a kid.
I’ve always loved to read and I’ve always loved to write. At eighteen I got the bright idea to write a romance novel. I needed something to do during the day before I went to my summer job as a waitress. God knows waitressing wasn’t going well. We had this appetizer called flaming saganaki-basically flaming cheese. You’re supposed to serve the sizzling cheese with grand flourish, dousing it in brandy, then tossing a match. Mostly I caught my hair on fire. Then there was the time I flipped the flaming appetizer onto the floor and had to beat it out with a serving tray. Let’s just say my days in food service were numbered, so it was a good thing I was working on a novel.
A funny thing happened my junior year of college. The novel-rewritten several times now-actually sold to Silhouette Intimate Moments. They gave the book the title, WALKING AFTER MIDNIGHT, and me the name Alicia Scott. It was pretty exciting. Then I got the check in the mail. Three thousand dollars. Not much for three years of work. I bought a computer for my new nom de plume, then went out to get a real job.
I became a management consultant. And frankly, that was the best decision for my writing career I ever made.
I absolutely loathed being a consultant. Morning commutes, claustrophobic cubicles, unsympathetic bosses, and worst of all, pantyhose. The only good things were my coworkers and a fresh appreciation of Dilbert cartoons. Basically, I worked as a consultant for twelve hours each day, then wrote romance novels during the odd hours of the night. I ended up producing thirteen romance novels, earning one TV-movie-AT THE MIDNIGHT HOUR (CBS 1995)-and becoming one very tired girl. I needed a change. So I wrote a suspense novel. One where I could kill lots of people, some of whom may or may not bear the same name as various vice presidents who made me work all weekend.
The end result was THE PERFECT HUSBAND. One psychopathic ex-husband, a good half a dozen murders. Bantam scooped up the manuscript, launched it in a huge way, and next thing I knew, I was throwing out all my pantyhose and discovering the delights of daytime TV.
I have to say, being a self-supporting writer is one of the best gigs around. Now, when I have business trips, instead of visiting Manufacturing City, USA, I go to fascinating places like the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia. I also haven’t caught anyone on fire with flaming cheese in a very long time.
These days I live in New Hampshire with my wonderful husband who loves auto-racing and black-diamond skiing. I work out of the loft with two barky shelties guarding my feet, and one hostile, three-legged cat banging her head against my leg. Our little girl now frequents the office copying her mom “working”. Sometimes it takes days to find what she typed into the manuscripts.
Life is never quiet. No one around here gets much sleep, but we’re all having fun.
One question, a split-second decision, and Brian Darby lies dead on the kitchen floor. His wife, state police trooper Tessa Leoni, claims to have shot him in self-defense, and bears the bruises to back up her tale. For veteran detective D. D. Warren it should be an open-and-shut case. But where is their six-year-old daughter?
AND HOW FAR WOULD YOU GO . . .
As the homicide investigation ratchets into a frantic statewide search for a missing child, D. D. Warren must partner with former lover Bobby Dodge to break through the blue wall of police brotherhood, seeking to understand the inner workings of a trooper’s mind while also unearthing family secrets. Would a trained police officer truly shoot her own husband? And would a mother harm her own child?
. . . TO SAVE HER?
For Tessa Leoni, the worst has not yet happened. She is walking a tightrope, with nowhere to turn, no one to trust, as the clock ticks down to a terrifying deadline. She has one goal in sight, and she will use every ounce of her training, every trick at her disposal, to do what must be done. No sacrifice is too great, no action unthinkable. A mother knows who she loves. And all others will be made to pay.
Read an excerpt ~
1
Sergeant Detective D. D. Warren prided herself on her excellent investigative skills. Having served over a dozen years with the Boston PD, she believed working a homicide scene wasn’t simply a matter of walking the walk or talking the talk, but rather of total sensory immersion. She felt the smooth hole bored into Sheetrock by a hot spiraling twenty-two. She listened for the sound of neighbors gossiping on the other side of thin walls because if she could hear them, then they’d definitely heard the big bad that had just happened here.
D.D. always noted how a body had fallen, whether it was forward or backward or slightly to one side. She tasted the air for the acrid flavor of gunpowder, which could linger for a good twenty to thirty minutes after the final shot. And, on more than one occasion, she had estimated time of death based on the scent of blood–which, like fresh meat, started out relatively mild but took on heavier, earthier tones with each passing hour.
Today, however, she wasn’t going to do any of those things. Today, she was spending a lazy Sunday morning dressed in gray sweats and Alex’s oversized red flannel shirt. She was camped at his kitchen table, clutching a thick clay coffee mug while counting slowly to twenty.
She’d hit thirteen. Alex had finally made it to the front door. Now he paused to wind a deep blue scarf around his neck.
She counted to fifteen.
He finished with the scarf. Moved on to a black wool hat and lined leather gloves. The temperature outside had just crept above twenty. Eight inches of snow on the ground and six more forecasted to arrive by end of the week. March didn’t mean spring in New England.
Alex taught crime-scene analysis, among other things, at the Police Academy. Today was a full slate of classes. Tomorrow, they both had the day off, which didn’t happen much and warranted some kind of fun activity yet to be determined. Maybe ice skating in the Boston Commons. Or a trip to the Isabelle Stewart Gardner Museum. Or a lazy day where they snuggled on the sofa and watched old movies with a big bowl of buttered popcorn.
D.D.’s hands spasmed on the coffee mug. Okay, no popcorn.
D.D. counted to eighteen, nineteen, twent–
Alex finished with his gloves, picked up his battered black leather tote, and crossed to her.
“Don’t miss me too much,” he said.
He kissed her on the forehead. D.D. closed her eyes, mentally recited the number twenty, then started counting back down to zero.
“I’ll write you love letters all day, with little hearts over the ‘i’s,” she said.
“In your high school binder?”
“Something like that.”
Alex stepped back. D.D. hit fourteen. Her mug trembled, but Alex didn’t seem to notice. She took a deep breath and soldiered on. Thirteen, twelve, eleven . . .
She and Alex had been dating a little over six months. At that point where she had a whole drawer to call her own in his tiny ranch, and he had a sliver of closet space in her North End condo. When he was teaching, it was easier for them to be here. When she was working, it was easier to be in Boston. They didn’t have a set schedule. That would imply planning and further solidify a relationship they were both careful to not overly define.
They enjoyed each other’s company. Alex respected her crazy schedule as a homicide detective. She respected his culinary skills as a third-generation Italian. From what she could tell, they looked forward to the nights when they could get together, but survived the nights when they didn’t. They were two independent-minded adults. She’d just hit forty, Alex had crossed that line a few years back. Hardly blushing teens whose every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of each other. Alex had been married before. D.D. simply knew better.
She lived to work, which other people found unhealthy, but what the hell. It had gotten her this far.
Nine, eight, seven . . .
Alex opened the front door, squaring his shoulders against the bitter morning. A blast of chilled air shot across the small foyer, hitting D.D.’s cheeks. She shivered, clutched the mug more tightly.
“Love you,” Alex said, stepping across the threshold.
“Love you, too.”
Alex closed the door. D.D. made it down the hall just in time to vomit.
Ten minutes later, she remained sprawled on the bathroom floor. The decorative tiles were from the seventies, dozens and dozens of tiny beige, brown, and harvest gold squares. Looking at them made her want to puke all over again. Counting them, however, was a pretty decent meditative exercise. She inventoried tiles while she waited for her flushed cheeks to cool and her cramped stomach to untangle.
Her cellphone rang. She eyed it on the floor, not terribly interested, given the circumstances. But then she noted the caller and decided to take pity on him.
“What?” she demanded, her usual greeting for former lover and currently married Massachusetts State Police Detective Bobby Dodge.
“I don’t have much time. Listen sharp.”
“I’m not on deck,” she said automatically. “New cases go to Jim Dunwell. Pester him.” Then she frowned. Bobby couldn’t be calling her about a case. As a city cop, she took her orders from the Boston turret, not state police detectives.
Bobby continued as if she’d never spoken: “It’s a fuckup, but I’m pretty sure it’s our fuckup, so I need you to listen. Stars and stripes are next door, media across the street. Come in from the back street. Take your time, notice everything. I’ve already lost vantage point, and trust me, D.D., on this one, you and I can’t afford to miss a thing.”
D.D.’s frown deepened. “What the hell, Bobby? I have no idea what you’re talking about, not to mention it’s my day off.”
“Not anymore. BPD is gonna want a woman to front this one, while the state is gonna demand their own skin in the game, preferably a former trooper. The brass’s call, our heads on the block.”
She heard a fresh noise now, from the bedroom. Her pager, chiming away. Crap. She was being called in, meaning whatever Bobby was babbling about had merit. She pulled herself to standing, though her legs trembled and she thought she might puke again. She took the first step through sheer force of will and the rest was easier after that. She headed for the bedroom, a detective who’d lost days off before and would again.
“What do I need to know?” she asked, voice crisper now, phone tucked against her shoulder.
“Snow,” Bobby muttered. “On the ground, trees, windows . . . hell. We got cops tramping everywhere–”
“Get ‘em out! If it’s my fucking scene, get ‘em all out.”
She found her pager on the bedside table–yep, call out from Boston operations–and began shucking her gray sweatpants.
“They’re out of the house. Trust me, even the bosses know better than to contaminate a homicide scene. But we didn’t know the girl was missing. The uniforms sealed off the house, but left the yard fair play. And now the grounds are trampled, and I can’t get vantage point. We need vantage point.”
D.D. had sweats off, went to work on Alex’s flannel shirt.
“Who’s dead?”
“Forty-two-year-old white male.”
“Who’s missing?”
“Six-year-old white female.”
“Got a suspect?”
Long, long pause now.
“Get here,” Bobby said curtly. “You and me, D.D. Our case. Our headache. We gotta work this one quick.”
He clicked off. D.D. scowled at the phone, then tossed it on the bed to finish pulling on her white dress shirt.
Okay. Homicide with a missing child. State police already on-site, but Boston jurisdiction. Why the hell would the state police–
Then, fine detective that she was, D.D. finally connected the dots.
“Ah shit!”
D.D. wasn’t nauseous anymore. She was pissed off.
She grabbed her pager, her creds, and her winter jacket. Then, Bobby’s instructions ringing in her head, she prepared to ambush her own crime scene.
Growing up, I was an avid (rabid?) reader. I am a natural speed reader, regularly clocked at about 1200 wpm (I read Harry Potter 5 in just under three hours), and always have several books on the go, nearly all in e-book form on my iPhone.
I have always made up stories in my head, but never considered becoming a writer. Instead, I intended to be a high school music teacher. I was sidetracked by my enjoyment of my psychology courses in university, and ended up with a psychology degree with a concentration in computer science.
This took me to a major Canadian bank as a software developer. I stayed there for just over four years, and then went back to school to become an elementary school teacher. After four years teaching elementary school computer science, I took up the National Novel Writing Month challenge and attempted to write a novel in a month.
I succeeded, and the first draft of "Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo" was the result. I realized I love writing. I left teaching, and I haven't looked back since!
In my non-writing time, I read, run, swim, crochet (I am on Ravelry and would be happy to add you as a friend!), take care of my 55 gallon aquarium and my cat Sapphire, and play clarinet. Generally not all at once.
This picture shows me wearing a sweater I crocheted and holding the finishers' medal I received at my second half marathon, May 13/08.
Mary's given up everything, including an unsatisfying marriage, to become a chef. But the career comes with a side dish: Kegan, her sexy; but controlling new boss.
They're soon in a relationship, and in all-too-frequent arguments, and when it becomes clear they can't work together and be together Mary faces a dilemma: keep her dream job or her dream man?
Read an excerpt ~
Prologue
After everything I've learned and all the ways I've changed over this last year, how can I possibly be here again, trapped between a man and work?
This time is different, though. It is. Charles didn't want me to have a career. Kegan does. But he wants our relationship too, and we've more than proven we simply can't work together and be together.
My shaking legs carry me away from Steel and I wonder what will happen when I return tomorrow. I love working here, and I love Magma even more. I've dreamed of being a chef forever, and now that dream's come true twice over.
But I've also found Kegan, of whom I didn't dream because I'd never have been able to imagine someone so right for me. Why does he have to be my boss? But if he weren't, would I have fallen for him? Without his amazing work with his restaurants, without his focus and attention and drive, would I have fallen hard enough to consider leaving the kitchens I adore?
After the emotions of last night I knew something had to give, but I didn't expect him to say, "We can't go on like this, Mary. I want you, and I want full control of my restaurants, but I can't have both. I can't decide which I want more, which I'll resent less for making me lose the other. I need you to decide for me, for us."
His words ring in my head and the shock mixed with fury I felt as he spoke tenses my body again. The shock makes sense but I don't know why it made me so angry. I understood. He's lost too many girlfriends to his control issues to risk letting it happen again. He has to leave the decision to me.
But understanding doesn't make deciding any easier.
I need to find something that will, so I call the spa where Tanisha sent me to relax post-Christmas and book myself an overnight visit and a long massage. It's not cheap, and it's a good hour's train ride from Toronto, but I need a quiet and peaceful place to think and I've never felt more peaceful anywhere else.
Except maybe in Kegan's arms after the first time we made love.
I take a deep shuddering breath and make myself push the memories away. I have to be strong, stand on my own two feet, and choose: stay as the chef of Kegan's two restaurants and end our relationship, or stay with him and try to find a job that's even close to as perfect for me.
I know for many women there'd be no question: career comes first. And a huge part of me wants to make that choice. But I also know Kegan himself has been amazingly good for me and I don't want to lose him either.
I turn off my phone so I won't have to talk to anyone. I need to listen to myself. After a quick stop at home for overnight gear, I take a taxi to the train station and am soon on my way.
I don't get any closer to resolving my dilemma on the train, and once I've checked into the spa and am resting in my room before heading down for a late lunch I wonder if replaying everything that's happened between Kegan and me from the day we met will help. It might, but it'll hurt too.
But I need to find the answer for us, so I give in, close my eyes, and relive the last four months of my life.
Thanks to the author I have three (3) e-copies and one (1) paperback copy of Stir Until Thoroughly Confused to give away.
GIVEAWAY Rules for entering:
This contest is open to residents of USA residents only!
Please complete the form below - do not leave information in the comments - it will not count.
The contest will end on February 9th at 11:59PM EST; 4 winners will be selected and contacted thereafter.
Once the winners are contacted, they will have 48 hours to respond to my email or another winner will be chosen (make sure to check your spam filters!).
Book will be shipped directly from the author.
When you fill out the form, make sure you choose which copy you would like - paper or e-copy.
Eva-Maria Mora, a German-born U.S. citizen, overcame a severe illness and underwent amazing life changes which led her to discover a new healing method: Quantum Angel Healing (QAH). When her baby boy was six months old, the doctors told her that she only had a few weeks to live. After this shocking diagnosis, she prayed for help and guidance. Her prayers were answered. She had an encounter with a beautiful angel which changed her life forever.
She started to communicate with angels on a regular basis, and they helped her to understand why people get sick, how they can heal themselves, and how they can find their true life purpose. In 2000, Mora, who has an MBA, was guided to quit her international career as a top management consultant and to let go of everything and everyone in her life. With only two suitcases and a lot of trust, faith, and love in her heart, she came to the United States as an immigrant, not knowing if she would be able to stay in the country.
Years of unemployment, very little money, hardship, and other painful experiences followed.
Eva-Maria understood that all these life lessons were spiritual initiations, which prepared her for her true calling.
Today she is a compassionate, clairvoyant medical intuitive and spiritual teacher. She was approached by Random House to write a book about her life-changing healing method, QAH. It became a bestseller in Europe, and many more books and CDs about spiritual relationships, children of the light, and how to activate your divine power followed.
Together with her husband, Michael, Mora teaches seminars and QAH certification programs worldwide. She dedicates a lot of her time to charity, helping the new children of the light. She was guided to found a nonprofit organization (www.lichtkinder-lkk) and organize the first children of the light conference in Germany in 2010 (www.lichtkinderkonferenz.de).
Identifying and transforming the true cause of an illness or difficult life situation is a very complex task. Through connecting and communicating with angels, Quantum Angel (QA) Practitioners help those living with pain access the divine matrix and restore health and balance by applying the "Angel Healing Formula."QA Healing applies fundamental concepts of quantum physics to perform healing, either hands-on or at a distance. It uses diagnostic intuition, clairvoyance, telepathy, energy healing, and prayer and goes beyond physical death and integrates nonphysical helpers in the process.
* Please complete the form below - do not leave information in the comments - it will not count.
* The contest will end on February 5th at 11:59PM EST; 2 winners will be selected and contacted thereafter.
* Once the winners are contacted, they will have 48 hours to respond to my email or another winner will be chosen (make sure to check your spam filters!).
* Book will be shipped directly from the publicist.
CASH RULES EVERYTHING AROUND HER AND GOLDIE WILL USE ANYTHING TO GET IT. . . .
In the hood every day is about struggle and survival, and no one understands that more than twenty-two-year-old Kaeyla "Goldie" Dennis. So when the affair she's been having with a wealthy married man comes crashing to an end, Goldie doesn't waste any time getting back on her grind. Her new hustle? Running a strip club where she also happens to be the main attraction. Pretty soon she's knee-deep in the skin game with more money than she ever imagined. Enough to bring more girls on and even hire a security detail. But as the saying goes, More money, more problems. When one of her dancers becomes the victim of a vicious assault, Goldie must decide whether to remain silent and continue her lucrative business or tell the truth and lose everything she's worked for. Her decision will test her devotion to the motto she seems to live by: Get Rich or Die Trying . .
.
Real Wifeys is the first installment of a fierce and gritty new series by the coauthor of one of the classics of street fiction, Desperate Hoodwives
About the author ~
Raised in the gritty Central Ward of Newark, New Jersey, Meesha Mink beat the odds of being raised in a single family home. Thankfully, with a strong and resilient mother who worked hard and struggled not to raise her two children in the projects, Meesha Mink knew there was more to life than just drugs and violence. From a young age, her mother introduced her to reading and used it as a tool to teach Meesha and her brother to know more so that they wanted more.
As a child, she remembers writing her first story in the second grade. At that time horror was her genre of choice. Over the years Meesha Mink continued writing short stories and poetry. She even recalls making up stories and entertaining both her friends and strangers on the back of a New Jersey transit bus on her way to and from University High School. Even then she was a natural born storyteller.
She went on to attend Seton Hall University in South Orange, New Jersey. Writing always called to her and when a college professor commented that although her essay on the Million Man March was more emotion than fact, that it was stirring, uplifting, and inspiring. He suggested a career in writing and she promised herself she would have a book in print before she reached the age of thirty.
While unsatisfied with her career after graduating college with a double major and a minor, she began writing short stories for African-American romance magazines. She soon gained the confidence to write a full-length novel–an African-American romance–which eventually led to the completion of a dream as the first book she ever finished was offered a two book deal by two publishers. She has since written nearly ten books under a different name in the romance and womens fiction/mainstream genres.
Interested in telling the stories of the urban environment which help shaped her into being both street savvy and educated, she felt the urban fiction genre was calling to her.
Her urban fiction debut, written with De’Nesha Diamond, led to an amazing deal with Simon & Schusters’ Touchstone line. The bestselling HOODWIVES series includes Desperate Hoodwives (January 2008), Shameless Hoodwives (August 2008) and The Hood Life (January 2009). Meesha’s solo project, Real Wifeys: On The Grind, drops January 2011 with Simon & Schuster’ Touchstone line.
Meesha Mink wants people to know that the stories about inner cities needs to be as diverse as the people who live in these environments. “Growing up on 16th Ave in Newark all my life, I know in a one block radius you could either have a single mother or a married couple raising their family, a dope dealer or people working forty hours a week, a homeowner or someone renting a low income apartment. It is the epitome of diversity and some assume that every story told with a hood setting is the worst of the worst of these environments. For me, urban fiction isn’t about glorifying the negatives in the ‘hood, but simply telling the real and varied stories that do exist. As a writer and a reader I can always respect the gift of storytelling of ALL stories.”
* Please complete the form below - do not leave information in the comments - it will not count.
* The contest will end on January 27th at 11:59PM EST; 2 winners will be selected and contacted thereafter.
* Once the winners are contacted, they will have 48 hours to respond to my email or another winner will be chosen (make sure to check your spam filters!).
Earlene Fowler was raised in La Puente, California, by a Southern mother and a Western father which is probably why her Benni Harper series features quilts, cattle, smart-mouthed women, cowboys and a sexy Latino cop. She wrote literary and commercial short fiction for ten years with no publishing success when she decided to change gaits and write a mystery novel.
copies of to give away.
Author ~ David Goldman
Leann Sweeney was born and raised in Niagara Falls and educated at St. Joseph's Hospital and Lemoyne College in Syracuse, NY. She also has a degree from the University of Houston in behavioral science and worked for many years in psychiatry and as a school nurse; she has retired to write full-time. 
Leann is married with two fabulous grown children, a wonderful son-in-law and a beautiful daughter-in-law--not to mention grandaughter Maddison Grace (Maddie). She has lived in Texas since 1974 and resides in Friendswood, Texas with husband Mike, her three cats, and Rosie--the smart, retrieving, golf-ball chasing, busy-busy-busy mini-labradoodle. 
THE KITTIES!
