Denise Moncrief's Blog

 

I’m happy to announce the release of my latest book, The Cottage on Dare Lake, the second book in the Dare Lake trilogy.

Almost threeyears have passed without publishing a new book. My last book was released inOctober 2020. Sure, I wrote some new material off and on over the last fewyears, but I couldn’t quite push myself hard enough to complete a manuscript.

I enjoy the fiction I create. A lot. So whathappened? What got in the way of my creative output? Life. That’s whathappened.

So a little background. In 2020, I did the work Ineed to do to reactivate my CPA license, and along with that, my work hours,responsibilities, and workload increased. As I’ve said before, accounting is askill I learned to support my writing habit. (Which, by the way, includes my travelinghabit. Because I absolutely must travel to research settings for my books,right?)

On to what happened. The first big thing that stalledmy writing progress was the birth of my first grandchild. I spent a lot of timein 2021 caring for my grandson. He calls me Nana.  No regrets for the hiatus during this time.Spending time bonding with my little buddy is one of the greatest joys of mylife. My accounting hours took a hit. I spent less time on the job and more timewith the family. No regrets. Though my writing time suffered. It was almost non-existent.

Then in 2022, as the 2021 tax season approached(As a CPA, I always lived in the past), I made a promise to my employer to makeup for the previous year’s decreased hours. I worked my posterior off duringthe 2021 tax season, which officially ended in October 2022. BUT I still spenta lot of time with the grandson BECAUSE his mom was expecting another baby, mysecond grandchild, and she needed my support as the birth of grandson number 2approached. What’s a Nana to do? I have my priorities. My writing time was onceagain limited because I still had that accounting job.

Years ago, I read a book about trimming the excessbranches off my tree of life. You know, getting rid of things that don’t addvalue or meaning to your life. I was in a good spot to do some trimming as Ihad just reached retirement age. (Sorry, I don’t remember the name of the bookany longer and a browser search didn’t help me locate it.)

In September 2022, my husband and I took a much-neededvacation to Washington state to visit Mt. Rainier and Olympic National Park,which included lots of day hiking. It was a good time to reflect on my life andhow it had changed, and more importantly, what my life was missing. By the timeI got home and back on the accounting job, I’d made up my mind. It was time toretire. I put in my years as a CPA, and I still have priorities that don’tinclude surviving another tax season.

So now, I spend time with both of my grandsons andhave plenty of time to write. I’ve spent more time on my hobbies, like scrapbookingand baking. After nine years of public accounting, I finally feel like my lifeis back in balance.

It’s Fall ya’ll, or at least, our version of it. Here in north Louisiana we have four seasons: pre-summer, summer, deep summer, and summer-isn’t-over-yet summer. Winter? What’s that? There have been times when we wore short sleeves on Christmas Day. Sure, from January through March the temperature gets a little cooler, but I can only remember once when the temperature dropped to single digits during the day. It takes very special conditions to freeze the Red River, like during the Great Freeze of December 1983.
Maybe I exaggerate (But not about the Great Freeze. We still talk about that event down here). No, I’m not exaggerating. Not at all. Sure, I’ve seen snow in June...in Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana. It snowed on my birthday one year. I can’t remember which year.
Fall is when the high drops from 100 degrees to 75 degrees in one day and the cooler temperature struggles to return the next day but just can’t quite beat the heat. We love this time of year because it comes as a great relief from the burning hell of summer. So Fall is here in North Louisiana. I always look forward to this day for months...and months...and months.
So in homage to Fall, here are a few things that make Fall special for me:1.    The smell of firewood burning. We don’t really need the heat from the fireplace. It’s for ambiance. If we get chilled, we throw on another layer of clothing. That’s all we really need.2.   The crispness of the air in the morning. As I said before, the cooler weather is a relief from the burning fire of he... I mean summer. I love to breathe in the bright, crisp air on a fall morning. I luxuriate in the smell of leaves on the ground instead of mowed grass. I’m allergic to grass clippings.3.   Cool-weather comfort foods. It seems odd to eat chili and drink hot cocoa when the temperature is over 80 degrees. So we wait and wait until the thermometer drops to 79 or below. Then we indulge. I know it’s truly Fall when I pull out my Daddy’s chili recipe.4.   Wearing jackets and boots. I admit it: I collect jackets. It’s an obsession. I love outerwear. I’d wear a jacket, a blazer, a cardigan, a shawl, etc., every day, all year if I could. And boots? I love pulling my booties out of the deep, dark hole where they’ve been hiding for months. I can’t wear them in the summers (yes, plural). I inherited hot feet from my Daddy.5.   Decorating the house for Fall. This is my absolute favorite thing about Fall. My daughter comes over and helps me pull the decorations out of the still-hot attic. It gives me the feeling that Fall has arrived even if it hasn’t.I love this time of year. I think I’ll go make myself a cup of hot apple cider.

It was 1987, and my husband and I were excited to go on our first trip together to Colorado. I’d been in love with the Rocky Mountains since I was a little girl. My parents had visited there before I was born, and I would often gaze at the pictures and postcards from their trip way back in the 1950s. Of course, by the time they took my sister and me there in the late 1970s, although some things were the same, a lot had changed. 
So my husband and I set out on our road trip. We settled into our motel in Estes Park and planned our adventure. The first full day there, we headed up Fall River Road, a trek that is only possible between July and October because the road stays covered in snow and ice for most of the year. We were so excited to be in the mountains, taking in the scenery, that we stopped at every pullout along the way.That’s how we found the Chapin Creek Trail. We were thrilled to discover we could actually walk into the wilderness to see things we couldn’t see from the road. Our parents had never done such things when we were growing up, so we had little to no knowledge of such adventures. Both sets of parents were make-good-time sort of travelers. They weren’t dawdlers. So the idea of getting out of the car and diving deeper into the woods was a brand new concept for us. 
We started out and soon realized we were not prepared to venture into the woods. The wrong shoes. No water. We had no idea how long it would take to hike that particular trail. We were rookies. So we turned around and went back to the car with sad hearts.  When we finally made it all the way up Fall River Road to the summit of Fall River Pass, we found the Alpine Visitor Center; and to our delight, we discovered trail maps existed for the entire park. So when we drove back into Estes Park, we bought provisions (water and trail food) for our first hike. It was getting late in the afternoon by then, so we couldn’t do any trail that was very long. We chose a short hike to Alberta Falls in the Bear Lake area of the park for our first hiking experience.The view from the top of the falls was gorgeous. We truly felt like we were on top of the world and closer to heaven. The view seemed sharper. The air smelled fresher. Our bodies experienced the feel-good tingle of exercise. We felt connected to ourselves, to nature, to our Creator. This was when we realized we couldn’t truly see and experience the wonders of the mountains in the seat of a car. There was a whole other world off the road and down a path. We were hooked. The next day we got to Bear Lake earlier and hiked all the way to Emerald Lake. Now, we plan trips around the possibility of day hiking. I’ve included some pictures taken during the numerous hikes we’ve done. I hope these photos will inspire you to get out of the car and discover the beauty and adventure that exists only a few miles from the road.

Ever since Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson created a wish list of things they wanted to do before they kicked the bucket, people have talked, dreamed, blogged, posted, and written about their Bucket List. But I wonder...how many people actually make a list and then go about fulfilling their dreams and living their fantasies?Most people are too busy living every day on a get-by basis to pursue their bucket list goals. Does that mean most people have lived unsuccessful, underachieving lives? I don’t think so.What if success is defined by not what you’ve done but what you haven’t done, or rather what you’ve avoided doing that could make your life a disastrous mess? What if a successful life is a life not filled with regret or life-changing consequences? What if the best thing you could do for yourself was to consider a NOT bucket list? Unlike an Unbucket list where you list things you’ve done that you would never do again, a NOT bucket list is a list of things you would never, ever do in a million years.So I thought about what I’d put on a NOT bucket list. And here it is:1.     Go to a foreign country where I don’t speak the language. Why would I risk a serious miscommunication? I would end up in a foreign jail for the rest of my life. I watched Brokedown Palace . I know what kind of trouble a tourist can get into, especially if you don’t know the language and don’t know where you’re going.2.     Go into the woods alone at night. Why would I do this willingly? Aren’t there enough horror movies that everyone should know better than to do this? Haven’t we all been warned? Anybody remember Friday the 13th ? Art imitates life, doesn’t it? I would end up dead because I would trip over a large something or other and fall, probably breaking my neck. Or I would meet an ax murderer.3.     Go skydiving. Why would I jump out of a perfectly good airplane? My parachute wouldn’t open. I know this. Deep in my heart of hearts. I don’t understand D.B. Cooper, the guy that hijacked a plane, demanded a ransom, and then jumped out of the plane with the money. There isn’t enough money in the world that would entice me to hatch that kind of plan. His body was never found. Mine wouldn’t be found either.4.     Go back in time. Why would I want to relive this life? Redoing the good times wouldn’t be the same, and redoing the bad times wouldn’t make them any better. The good times and the bad times have made me who I am, and I’m okay with that. Besides, if I had a do-over I’d probably disrupt a time-space continuum and erase the universe...or something like that. Didn’t Marty McFly almost erase himself in Back to the Future ? I don’t want to erase myself.5.     Go swimming in shark-infested waters. Why would I want to tempt a shark to take a bite out of me? Why would I want to play tag with one? I would bump into it or it would bump into me, and I would either freak out or freeze. But whatever I would do, it wouldn’t be the one thing that I should do if I were ever to encounter a shark...whatever that one thing would be. Is there any good way to deal with a shark encounter? Probably not. That situation would not go well for me. The shark and I would not become friends. The Great White would smell my fear. It would stalk me and play with its food before doing its worst. Have you seen The Reef ?This may seem like a negative list, but really it isn’t. This list represents my deepest fears, so if I avoid things that make me fearful, I should be able to live a happier, less stressful life. The absence of negativity is positivity, right? That’s my theory anyway.I could have made a long list of things I would like to do before I go, but I’m not going to waste my time writing lists. (Oh, okay. I know I just made a list, but it was a short list.) I’m going to spend my time reaching for my dreams and pushing toward my goals. Living my life to the fullest in every moment is the only item on my bucket list.

I needed ideas and inspiration. River Road Hauntings was complete, but I didn't want the Haunted Hearts series to end. So where could I take my readers next? The next locale for the series had to be a setting rich in history and potential ghost activity.

Charleston, South Carolina, of course.

Aerial view from the eighth floor of The Francis Marion Hotel looking
south down King Street. © Denise MoncriefSo I asked my wonderful assistant, Katy, if she would join me on my adventure, and off we flew for a very quick three-day weekend. We arrived late on Friday night, exhausted from a multi-leg flight to Charleston. It was the smoothest and easiest airport/flight experience I've ever encountered.

On the flight from Charlotte NC to Charleston.  © Denise Moncrief
Thank goodness for my wonderful assistant. She was up for anything I wanted to do on this trip. And we walked our butts off. In the heavy humidity. And we drank lots of water because it was hotter than Hades. What were we thinking booking our trip for the weekend before July 4th?
We stayed at the Francis Marion Hotel at the corner of King and Calhoun. The hotel was first opened in 1924. Although the furnishing had been modernized, the hotel still felt like an old, elegant hotel.
The lobby of the Francis Marion Hotel. © Denise Moncrief
Our first task on Saturday morning was to find a brunch place. The first restaurant we tried was Virginia's on King. Be aware that Virginia's requires reservations for breakfast, which we didn't have. So onward we trekked north on King and found Callie's Hot Little Biscuit.
Callie's is a very narrow shop front, really narrow, with a kitchen along one wall and a few barstools against a bar along the other wall. Very crowded. Most patrons ordered their biscuits to go, and we did as well. My bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit was the best I've ever had. The biscuits are made fresh and are very light and tasty. I highly recommend Callie's for an on-the-go breakfast.
After we had filled our tummies, we headed south down King Street toward Charleston City Market.
Charleston City Market. © Denise Moncrief
As you might be able to see from the above photo, the market was established in 1807. The building is long and narrow and went on for several city blocks. One building would end, we'd cross a street, and the next building would begin. The market is full of both touristy type items as well as locally made arts, crafts, and jewelry. Katy and I both bought a pair of unusual earrings that could either be worn dangling or nestled in the ridges of the outer ear. We enjoyed our shopping experience so much that we went back on Sunday morning after brunch.
Our next destination was Folly Beach. The popular beach area is located 26 miles south of Charleston. Since we went on a holiday weekend, the main intersection was jammed with both vehicle and pedestrian traffic. It was nearly impossible to find a parking place close to the hub of everything, but we finally found a restaurant a block or two away with parking available for customers only.
My lovely assistant Katy at Washout. © Denise MoncriefThe Washout is an open-air restaurant, and we could imagine the place hopping with bar business at night. Katy ordered a hamburger, and I ordered jerk chicken and tomato pie. I'd never had tomato pie before. Oh, my God, I fell in love.
Jerk chicken, tomato pie, and cole slaw at Washout. © Denise Moncrief
Once again, we had appeased our hunger, so we headed out in search of a parking spot near a beach access and lucked upon a spot right next to the walkway out to the beach.
Folly Beach. © Denise Moncrief
Already tired from a busy day, we headed back to the historic district and decided to drive down the peninsula to gawk at the houses south of Broad. We started at the Battery and worked our way north. This gave us a nice introduction to the walking tour we planned for Sunday morning.
After our gawking, we went back to the Francis Marion for a bit of a rest because we knew we were about to do more walking.
Our next adventure was a guided ghost tour in the French Quarter area of Charleston. I found the tour a bit schmaltzy and the tour guide eccentric (which only added to the fun of the adventure), but despite the somewhat cheesy nature of the tour, the adventure gave me what I craved: inspiration for the new book series. Sadly, I saw no ghosts and captured no apparitions on camera, but I really didn't think that I would.
St. Michaels on Broad. Haunted or not? Our tour guide thought so. © Denise MoncriefAfter our walking tour, we searched for a place to eat along King Street and were disappointed to find that most restaurants along King close up around nine on Saturday night. We finally found Mod Pizza. Mod is a build your own pizza joint. I ordered a large--my eyes were bigger than my stomach--with regular pizza sauce, mozzarella, Italian sausage, mushrooms, and roasted garlic. Very tasty. But I couldn't eat it all. I'd recommend getting the smaller size if your appetite isn't that big.
Sausage, mushroom, and garlic pizza from Mod Pizza at
the corner of King and Calhoun. © Denise Moncrief
We slept well that night. The next morning, we took our time getting out the door.
Our first stop was Slightly North of Broad for brunch. I highly, highly recommend SNOB for brunch. I ordered shrimp and grits, and Katy ordered French toast with Red Harbor maple rum syrup and walnut streusel. Both dishes were excellent. We both ordered a Mimosa, which we both enjoyed. Considering the socio-economic history of that part of Charleston, I do think the name of the restaurant was slightly tongue-in-cheek.
Brunch at Slightly North of Broad. © Denise Moncrief
After brunch, we found a parking lot closer to the market and hit it again. Of course, we needed to bring back souvenirs for those that we left back home.
We spent the rest of the morning on a walking tour of the area South of Broad. We parked on East Bay and passed the magnificent Rainbow Row on our way down the peninsula.
Rainbow Row, Charleston, SC. © Denise Moncrief.
The houses in the district were even more beautiful than the pictures I'd been drooling over ever since I started planning this trip. The tour was worth the time spent walking in the heat and humidity to get an up-close view of some of the city's oldest homes.

I'm going to leave a few pictures below from the walking tour.
© Denise Moncrief
© Denise Moncrief
© Denise Moncrief
For our final adventure before we headed toward the airport, we drove out to Sullivan's Island to take a tour of Fort Moultrie. The island is 28 miles east of Charleston over the Arthur Ravenel Bridge. We would have liked to tour Fort Sumter, but the tour would have taken two and a half hours. We didn't have that much time to spare on a short, fast weekend. The tour of Fort Moultrie gave us an insight into the harbor defense of the area throughout the history of Charleston.
We left Charleston knowing that we wanted to return. Even though there was so much we'd left unseen and undone, I considered the trip a success. I boarded the plane home brimming with ideas for the new book series.
So...be on the lookout for the new series. I'm titling it Carolina Hauntings, and I'm excited to begin development of the series premise and the book plots. I'll keep you posted.

True confession time. I didn’t create my Twitter account for the purpose of social interaction. There, I said it...or um...wrote it. No, I opened the account for the purpose of selling books. I know. That isn’t something I’m supposed to admit. My presence on social media is supposed to be all about developing relationships, isn’t it? But the honest to God truth is that most authors were on Twitter for the purpose of selling books, and so was I.When I published my first short story through a now-defunct, small Canadian publisher, one of the first things I did was create a Twitter account for my author profile. Back then, an author was expected to establish a social media presence. That’s what authors did, especially new ones. I still see authors and publishers pushing book promos through social media, so I guess it’s still a thing to do, but I started questioning the effectiveness of marketing books through free social media a long time ago.Sure, when I first signed on, I met some interesting people through Twitter. That was back when being on Twitter was new and authors actually hung out on their Twitter feed. There was some real-time social interaction. I still maintain some of those early connections I made on Twitter through Facebook.As the number of people I followed grew, so did the speed of the tweets flying through my feed. There were too many to keep up with, and I couldn’t hang onto one of them long enough to start a conversation.The people I met were other authors. I never once made a connection with a reader or book blogger through Twitter. Never. I followed authors, and authors followed me. So when I pushed my books over Twitter, I was peddling them to people who were doing the same thing I was doing. Were we even paying attention to each other’s tweets any longer? I don’t think so.Then, the inevitable happened. I discovered there was a way to automate my Twitter feed. Twitter automation killed real-time interaction amongst authors. I wasn’t there. Just the tweets I had scheduled at the beginning of the week. When I signed on, there was no else there either. Just their tweets. One time, I tweeted, “Is there anybody out there?” I got no answer.This exercise in futility didn’t sell books. It didn’t gain me any new readers. It didn’t foster new relationships. It was a waste of time. I stopped automating. I stopped popping into Twitter to see what was going on. My feed died from neglect. I almost forgot Twitter existed.Now, I know there is social interaction on Twitter. I read about it in the news. Every day someone tweets something that someone else disagrees with or finds offensive, and the tweet receives a flurry of angry tweets in reply.I don’t want anything to do with what spews forth from angry, hateful people on Twitter. For me, use of the medium has lost its intended purpose, and I don’t want to wander into the swamp of dissension that hangs out in other places on Twitter outside of author-land.
So bye-bye, Twitter. I wish I could say it’s been nice knowing you, but for the most part, you’ve been a pain in the butt.

NOT MARY SUE!Her name is Mary Sue. She’s a time and space traveler, zipping from book to book, scene to scene, unmindful of physics. The woman is disdained throughout the literary world because Mary Sue is a thinly-veiled representation of the author. She appears when the author interjects a little too much of herself into her characterization.
I'm not Mary Sue. My name is Denise.
My life is not entertaining enough or adventurous enough to be at the center of a suspense story. My characters are so much more than I am. I try to write them stronger, smarter, braver, fiercer, sassier, bolder, more flawed, more compassionate, more sensitive, more emotional, more impulsive, more conflicted, and so much more interesting than me. None of them are perfect.
So when a reviewer assumes the thoughts and opinions of the character are my thoughts and opinions, I’m disappointed and dismayed. Actually, I’m a little bit wounded. How could someone who doesn’t know me assume I’m that shallow, mean, cold-hearted, stupid, uninformed, disrespectful, immature etc.?
One review, in particular, has gnawed at me for years. I've considered responding, but responding to reviews is considered a really bad no-no. So I've kept my angst to myself all these years.

First, let me say I have a tremendous amount of respect for law enforcement officers and I believe most of them are trying to do the job right. So... Just because I write a bad cop character doesn’t mean I think all cops are bad. Just because I write an innocent ex-convict character doesn’t mean I think all convicted felons are great guys. No, I don’t think all police officers treat victims of violence as horrible as the detective character treated my heroine.

I started writing because I didn't want to read about one more perfect hero or heroine. Human begins are not clones, and characters in books shouldn't be either.

If I didn’t write flawed characters, if all my characters were wonderful pristine people, if they all conformed to stereotype, my characters would be dull and flat, lifeless, and boring. 
Maybe I should put a disclaimer at the beginning of each book:
The opinions expressed in this book are the characters’ own and do not always reflect the views of the author.
As strange as this might sound, I don’t always agree with my characters. I don’t always approve of their behavior. I don’t always think like they do. I don’t always behave as they would. Sometimes, they say things I wouldn’t say. Sometimes, they do things I wouldn’t do. Actually, most of the time, they don’t act or react like I would at all.

I’m not my characters. I’m not Mary Sue.

Image Source: Popsugar Photography   Reading is essential to writing. Every writer began his or her career as a reader.   In the last few years, I haven’t done as much reading as I used to do. Actually, since I began publishing my work in 2012, I haven’t made time to read anything but my own manuscripts. This year, I challenged myself to read more books from a variety of genres. I happened upon the Popsugar Challenge.
   As I go through the list, I’ll update this post with my impressions of the books I’ve read. They will be listed in reverse order with the last book I read showing at the top of the list.
Prompt 3
  The next book in a series you started – Return to Tradd Street by Karen White
  This is the fourth book in the Tradd Street series. I really enjoyed books one and two. The ending of book three was rather disappointing. Book four drags the Melanie/Jack relationship out to its ultimate happy-for-now conclusion. I wouldn’t call this a happily-ever-after sort of book. This couple still has relationship issues, which I understand continue to cause them problems in book five. I’m not sure I’ll read book five. I think I want to leave Melanie and Jack right where they are.  White’s series is paranormal romance. Actually, this series, along with Heather Graham’s Krewe of Hunters series, inspired me to write paranormal suspense. So, as you can imagine, I enjoyed reading the haunting scenes. Interwoven with the ghost story was a nice mystery to resolve. White wrapped up both the mystery and the ghost story satisfactorily for me.  The Tradd Street books are not by any means an intense read. If the reader can get past Melanie’s annoying personality and Jack’s obliviousness to the obvious, this book is a fun read. The book was a refreshing departure from the serious content of the previous two books I read.
  I give Return to Tradd Street four stars because the author gets a bit redundant in describing Melanie’s annoying habits and her continued lack of self-esteem. White needs to grow the woman up a bit. She’s had four books to accomplish some character growth, and Melanie is still whiny and irritating.
 Prompt 2
   A true crime story – Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt
   Midnight is not a true crime story in the accepted definition of the genre. Rather it is a real-life event portrayed in a fictionalized manner. Sometimes it seemed a bit too fictionalized and a bit too literary. The story suffered from lack of the grit of a documentary exposition of a murder. A true murder story should show blood on the page. To be fair, the book is listed on Amazon under Customs and Traditions rather than True Crime.   The author spent the first part of the book doing in-depth character sketches of eccentric personalities who lived in Savannah, Georgia, at the time of the Danny Hansford murder. By the time part two began and the author dove into the murder and its aftermath, I had almost given up on reading anything at all about the crime. The central event in the book, the murder, was secondary to the unnamed narrator’s impressions of the people of Savannah. I wanted to know about the murder and all its gory details. I didn’t get my true crime fix.  Midnight attempted an in-depth analysis of the socially inbred culture of a town that had for all intents and purposes isolated itself from the rest of the world. The author exposes his perceptions of the ugliness underneath the polished veneer of Savannah society, but then he glosses it over as if to say, “That’s just Savannah being Savannah.”   I give the book four stars. Sometimes the excessive characterization bogged down the narrative. Underneath the in-depth analysis of Savannah society, there was, after all, a murder story that was dying to be told.
  Prompt 1
  A book on which a movie I’ve watched was based – Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells
  I expected so much from this book because I enjoyed the movie. Now, I look back on my movie-going experience and I wonder why I did. Maybe I don’t remember the movie quite as well as I thought I did.  So much about this book and its characterization disturbs me. I think the author meant for the heavy premise to be softened by the antics and eccentricities of the Ya-Yas. On the surface, this would appear to be a chick book about the never-ending loyalty of a group of eccentric friends. Not so. I found it to be a book about a grown woman caving in to her demanding mother in exchange for some grudging affection. The book was more about a dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship than the power of healthy friendships. The ending left me unsatisfied.  Possibly the most annoying thing about the book was the author’s word choices. I’m from Louisiana. I’ve lived here all my life, and I can tell you for a fact that ya’ll is not spelled yall without an apostrophe. Never has been; never will be. No self-respecting Louisianan would call the small, red crustacean a crayfish. About the only thing authentic about Louisiana was the author’s description of the unbearable humidity in...well, most of the year.   Don’t even get me started on the contrived dialog. No one in real life banters like Sidda and her friends or Vivi and the Ya-Yas. The dialog sounded like it came straight out of an old Hollywood movie.   I give the book two and a half stars. It kept my attention, but I grumbled a lot while I read it. I found nothing at all divine about the Ya-Yas or their secrets.

Happy New Year, everyone! Some of you are glad 2017 is over and history. Some of you might be sad to see the old year go. I have mixed feelings about 2017. Some good things happened and some not so good things.

I’m started this new year off with some goals. And I’m happy to report that I’ve already completed my first task: cleaning out my clothes closet. So I’m marking one task off my list already. Yay!




Someone told me she was trying this new method of deciding what clothes to keep and what clothes to toss. No, it’s not the hold-it-in-your-hand-and-decide-if-it-brings-you-happiness method. I tried that with questionable results. It depends on what day I’m trying on a certain piece of clothing if it makes me happy or not. This new method is called the backward hangers method. Turn all your hangers around backward, and after you wear a piece of clothing, hang it forwards. By the end of 2018, you should know which clothes you still wear and which to get rid of. We shall see if this method works on New Year’s Day 2019.

So onward to my writing goals for 2018.

Goal Number One: Release at least four books.
The Rush of Winds Through Magnolias and Wild Rose were the only two new books I published in 2017. I did a lot of writing last year, but most of my new work is scheduled for release in 2018. Truthfully, I should have concentrated on finishing the Haunted Hearts series, because toward the end of 2017, my personal life interfered with my writing schedule, and the release of book number ten was postponed longer than I had planned.



The final book in the River Road Set of Haunted Hearts, The Sweet Madness of Honeysuckle is on pre-sale now and set for release on January 21, 2018. So that’s release number one.



I’ve completed the first book in the new Prescience series, Second Sight, with a tentative release date of April 15, 2018. Here's the link to a chapter one sneak peek. My goal is to have the next book in the series Dream Sight written before I release Second Sight, and release Dream Sight six weeks later toward the end of May or the beginning of June 2018. So that’s books number two and three.

My plan is to complete Oceans Apart for release in September 2018. So that’s book number four.And last but not least, I promised Jane that I would start the Dare Island series this year. So hopefully that’s book number five.

I know it’s an ambitious goal, but Second Sight and Honeysuckle are already written, and if life doesn’t get in the way, I might be able to release all five books.

Goal Number Two: Establish a regular email newsletter schedule and stick to it.
My goal is to send out a newsletter every other month. Every month is too much. I want to send you news about my writing and my release schedule that is informative and of interest, so I don’t send out a newsletter just to send a newsletter. Hopefully, there will be more news to report in 2018.

Goal Number Three: Start a Facebook Group just for my readers.

I love getting feedback from readers and interacting with you. A private group would make communicating so much easier. I want to make it a place where my readers can go to view content that is exclusively for them. Sneak peeks. Special offers. Contests. I'll let you know when the group goes online.

I'm excited about my goals for 2018. I hope everyone has a happy, safe, successful, and totally wonderful New Year.

Denise

I'm finally able to give my readers a peek at the cover for the last book in the River Road set of the Haunted Heart Series, The Sweet Madness of Honeysuckle. So here's the cover:


Here's a sneak peek from the book:
It was almost time to open, and R.J. hadn’t shown up yet. Tricia leaned on the bar and shut down the string of curse words she had been about to utter. She straightened and rubbed the back of her aching neck. The bed in the spare bedroom was uncomfortable, and she had woke up with a crick in her neck.She considered her options. If she didn’t open on time, the only people she’d be pissing off where the regulars who showed up right at four come rain or come shine.Nope. R.J. wasn’t going to do her like this. She grabbed her cell phone out of her bag, intending to call him, but the call wouldn’t go through. She glared at the phone as if it could feel the mean thoughts she was hurling at an inanimate object. Hadn’t she charged the thing before she’d left the house? Why was the battery already drained again? Was she going to have to get a new phone?Aggravation. That’s all it was. Just another freaking aggravation to deal with.The overhead lights blinked. She listened for the rumble of distant thunder. The lights went out every time it stormed. But as she had come into work, it had been a clear day. No sound of thunder. She went into the back office to use the house phone, but strangely enough, the line was dead. What the hell was going on?As she turned to leave the office, the clank and rattle of metal on metal came from the storage room. She eased along the bar and grabbed the baseball bat from under the counter. With it over her shoulder, she inched toward the open door of the storage room. She flipped the light on.“Who’s there?”No one. The room was empty of humans. Plenty of cases of liquor and bottled beer. But no humans.“Must have been something shifting.” She reasoned with herself, but she wasn’t convinced.Behind her, something crashed. She twisted on her heel. A stack of glasses had tumbled off the back bar and landed on the floor.The dead phones. The strange noises. The flickering lights. The crashing glassware. Everything was combining into one massive case of freak out.She shook off her paranoia. “It’s all just a coincidence. Get a grip.”Tricia leaned the bat in the corner, pulled the broom and dustpan out of the storage room, and began to sweep up the broken glass. That’s when the house phone and her cell phone started ringing in unison. She froze with the dustpan in her hand. A crash came from the storage room.The broom and the pan fell out of her grip. She rushed through the back room and flung the back door open. R.J. had his key out to let himself in.“Whoa. What’s wrong?” He glanced over her shoulder. “Is he here?”She shook her head, but she couldn’t make any words come out of her mouth.“Tricia, talk to me. What’s going on?”She stared at the barroom behind her. “The lights... and the phones... and the glasses... Something really strange is going on in there.”When she turned to face R.J. again, he had a skeptical expression on his face. His eyes reflected a bit of amusement but mostly concern.“It’s probably just you’re imagination, Tricia. You’ve got to be exhausted. I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep. I didn’t.”“I’m telling you that the lights flickered and... and...” She grabbed his hand. “Come and see for yourself.”She dragged him behind the bar. The glassware was still shattered on the floor. Then, she pulled him into the storage room. A shelving unit had toppled over and broken liquor bottles littered the floor. The stench of spilled alcohol filled her nose, and she pulled the tail of her shirt over her face.R.J pulled her out of the storage room. She stalled outside the door, immobile.He nudged her upper arm. “Are you okay?”Of course, she wasn’t okay.She allowed herself a moment to force a bit of calm. “First, I couldn’t get my cell phone to work. It was like the battery had run down, but I charged it this morning. Then, I tried the landline because I was pissed at you for not showing up on time again—”“So really this is just you being pissed at me?”“No. Listen to me. The landline was dead. It was dead, R.J. Just like my cell phone. Then, I heard some strange noises in the storage room, but when I turned on the light in there, nothing was out of place. No one was there. But while I was in there, that stack of glasses on the back bar fell off and broke. I got the broom and the dustpan to clean it up, but the house phone and my cell phone started ringing at the same time. Then I heard a crash in the storage room. It freaked me out.” She grabbed him by the shirt collar. “This is not my imagination.”He studied her face a long time. “Do you believe in ghosts, Tricia?”She cackled. Yeah, that’s exactly what her derisive laughter sounded like. “Ghosts? Are you freaking kidding me? No.” She leaned into him. “Someone is playing tricks on me. Is it you?”“Me?” He croaked a bit. “Why would I do something like that to you? I’m trying to help you.”She released his collar and backed away from him. “Right? That’s what you say.”R.J. held her gaze, steady and calm. “Yeah. That’s what I’m trying to do. Actually... I talked to a friend of mine about putting an alarm system in your house.”“Really?” Why would he do that for her? “I can’t afford an alarm system.”“I didn’t think so, but Craig said he’d install the system for free. It won’t be monitored, so there won’t be a monthly fee. But maybe an alarm going off would be enough to discourage an intruder from coming inside.”“Why are you doing this for me?”Her question seemed to stump him. A puzzled frown formed on his mouth. “I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t want you to be afraid.”“It’s not your concern whether I’m not afraid or not.” She wasn’t trying to be harsh.“Maybe there’s enough cop left in me... I don’t know.”He wasn’t telling her the whole truth. She could see the flickers of guilt in his eyes.“There’s another reason you’re trying to help me, isn’t there?”He leaned on the bar and released a long sigh. “I don’t want you to leave.”As if someone had shoved her in the back, she fell forward against him. Her head popped up to look him in the eyes. She tried to push off him, but his arms wrapped around her.“I didn’t do that on purpose, R.J.”“I know. I saw. It was like someone pushed you.” He smiled. “I think I like this ghost.”She shoved and stepped back from him. “That...” She waved her hand between them. “That ain’t happening.”The pounding of a pissed off customer at the door to the parking lot interrupted them. She rushed to unlock the door, thankful that she didn’t have to finish the conversation they’d started.For the rest of the evening, every time she glanced toward R.J., he was staring at her with a strange expression on his face. If she didn’t know better, she would have called the look mushy. Maybe he didn’t want her to leave, but she wasn’t sure she should stay. Pulling him into her mess wasn’t fair to him. She didn’t want to lead him on just to run away. Running again was inevitable.