Showing posts with label Excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Excerpt. Show all posts

Friday, December 20, 2013

Love of Christmas and What Inspired A Christmas Fling: A Magical Tale of Romance and Adventure by Beth Barany #Author #Interview #Excerpt

A Tale of
Romance and
Adventure

Beth Barany, Award Winning Author, Chats With Us Today and Shares the First Chapter of her New Novel Christmas Fling. 



First Beth, will you share a brief summary of your magical tale with us? And then, of course, I have a few questions and I think my readers would really enjoy a taste of this warm and wonderful story.


Thanks Lynnette for having me on your blog to give a shout out about my new sweet paranormal romance novella, A Christmas Fling, and for answering your fun questions.

 About the Book
She’s a Santa’s Elf. He’s a Human.
What if falling in love put the life you cherished in jeopardy?

Dahlia, a Santa’s Elf, has 21 days left before Christmas to create the best toy in the world without using magic or revealing her true identity. Stuck on how to complete the prototype, and working as a temp in San Francisco’s financial district with no time for love, will her innocent Christmas fling get her unstuck, or will she turn her back on her beloved career for her heart?

Liam, an up-and-coming financial analyst, swore off women after getting dumped by the love of his life. He just found out his ex is going to the company Christmas party with his rival Michael Hendricks. Up for promotion against Hendricks, Liam has to win the favor of his boss. His best bet is to invite the vivacious secretary Dahlia to the party. Will Dahlia be a welcome distraction, or will she turn his life upside down?
~~~~~~~~~~
Lynnette Phillips: Beth, when did you know you wanted to write? 
Beth Barany: I was seven years old when I remember writing a story with my brother about our cats and wanting to know how to get published. My great-grandmother Meridel Le Sueur (http://www.meridellesueur.org/) was a writer. I wanted to write her a letter asking for her help, but I was too timid to ask for my mom's help on using my dad's typewriter. LOL I did end up writing her letters when I was older.


LP: You're an award winning author. When did you win your first award or prize for writing? Did you enter any contests in school?
BB: I didn't enter any contests in school -- just studied my butt off, but I did start to enter contests once I started writing romance about 10 years ago. I did win Second place in a contest for my paranormal time-travel-to-the-future that I have since sadly lost. I'm so bummed, and I've looked everywhere. Then when I published Henrietta The Dragon Slayer, I entered it in a few contests, and voila, I finaled in the Hollywood Book Festival in 2011 with it -- alongside my husband and his first thriller novel -- and won the California Indie Fiction Contest in 2012. I'm so proud of that book, even if it hasn't been discovered yet by a wide audience, yet. Maybe it will take off when book 2 is published -- soon -- or when book 3 is published, I don't know when.

LP: What inspired you to write Christmas Fling?
BB: I love Christmas stories, especially short romances and the made-for-TV ones. Last Christmas vacation I spent most of it watching the Hallmark channel's Christmas movies, sniffling at the warm-hearted stories, and eating dark chocolate. I also was inspired by my friend's Pamela Fryer Christmas story, One Snowy Night Before Christmas, a modern-Grinch retelling. I wanted to write my own Christmas story and a Santa's Elf came to mind. I think elves are super smart, so wanted to tell a story of one of them. (And yes, I'm enjoying dark chocolate as I write this!)

LP: Dahlia seems to reflect your childhood desire to be magical. Are there elements of your 'little girl' dreams in all of your characters? 
BB: Oh, you found me out, about my childhood desire to me magical! There are probably elements of my 'little girl' dreams and my big girl dreams in all my heroines. My heroes are made of stuff from a bit more adult. ;)

LP: You like strength to show in your female characters; what do you feel are Dahlia's leading strengths?
BB: I do like to show strength in my female characters. Dahlia is persistent, dedicated, and loyal, and has a strong sense of her value. Those are her leading strengths.

LP: Are there any eccentricities involved in your writing process? 
BB: Are all writing processes eccentric? I'm sure I have my share... For a pantser, I'm pretty step-by-step in my creative process. And for all my structure, I really trust my instincts on what the story is. I draft my characters, do a synopsis, and a scene-by-scene outline, but still don't really know the heart of the story until I actually write it. 

LP: You write in different genres. Do you have a favorite? 
BB: I love both romance and fantasy equally. I do have a secret love for science fiction, but don't know if I'll ever be able to write that.

LP: You're writing has lead you to be involved in 'good works'. Please tell us about that. Can my readers get involved also?
BB: Yes, sure! I'm a huge believer in the power of a good to book to change lives and open our hearts and minds. So I donate books and support literacy and education wherever I can. This year I donated to PaperBackSwap.com's drive to support elementary schools -- a great place to share your surplus books. More information here: http://author.bethbarany.com/2013/12/08/elementary-schools-looking-for-donations-via-paperbackswap-com/. My past donations here: http://author.bethbarany.com/contact-me/for-a-good-cause/.

Thanks for chatting and sharing with us today, Beth. I can't wait to read the excerpt of Christmas Fling!

Thanks Lynnette!

Here’s an excerpt:
Chapter 1
December 1, Oakland, CA

Dahlia strolled through the small neighborhood park. It was great fun to think about how the children would enjoy her toy once she was done with it, but she had to complete it first. She only had twenty-two days to fix whatever was wrong with it before returning home. She’d gone over her designs and schematics and taken it apart and put it back together a dozen times, but it still wouldn’t work.

Dahlia left the park and headed down the street toward the detached studio she rented on Miles Avenue.

A dog bark had her look up just in time to almost but not quite avoid getting tangled up in a long leash. A man with the warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen gazed down at her, a half smile on his face.

She smiled back startled out of her daydreaming, but not before she noticed his endearing dimple on one side of his mouth.

She said, “Sorry, I didn’t see you. Thank goodness for your dog. Oh, she looks like a Husky.”

Dahlia shifted her bag to one hip, so she could bend down and pet the dog.

The dog wagged her tail.

Dahlia said, “You must feed her really well. Her coat is so soft and luscious.”

“She’s a Bernese Mountain Dog. Sally. My roommate’s.”

His voice was deep. She had to look up to smile into his deep brown eyes. He was a whole head taller than she was. Almost two meters. She translated into American measurements. Six foot three or something.

“My uncle, well one of my uncles has one—that he uses for work. But I hardly see him because he lives—” She paused. “I’m prattling, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are, but I like listening to your accent. Scottish?”

“Yes, wow, you guessed correctly. Most people here can’t do that. Yeah, we’re from Scotland, but it’s been a few generations.” She couldn’t very well tell him how Santa’s elves lived a very long time. It had only been her grandparents that had immigrated with Uncle, known as Santa to most, and some neighbors to set up the North Pole.

“So, you’re in school here?” He waved off toward what she knew was the art college a few blocks away.

“No. I’m here on an independent research project for a few more weeks.”

“So you’re from—”

“Alaska. Well, near Alaska, anyway. I—I best be going,” she interrupted and gestured to her bag of goodies. She shifted from foot to foot on the corner of Miles and Clifton Streets, still tangled up in the Bernese’s leash. “Gifts to wrap. For the kids. Big project.” She gulped and held out her hand. “I’m Dahlia, by the way. Dahlia MacMillian.”

With a half-smile, he shook her offered hand. His grip was firm and strong. “Liam. Nice to meet you, Dahlia MacMillian.” He led the dog around her, slowly untangling the leash.

How he moved with grace and power, even in his simple gestures. He was tall, lean and muscular, broad shoulders identifiable even in his sweatshirt with the UC Berkeley name and logo on it.

“There we go, Sally,” Liam said, his voice a rumbling, soothing cascade.

Sally licked Dahlia’s hand, bringing her out of her staring. She gulped and felt the heat of a blush creep up her neck and onto her cheeks. Dahlia stroked the soft fur to cover her embarrassment. It had been a long time since she’d felt attracted to anyone. Everyone she’d dated at the Pole was so familiar to her, and mostly related. She didn’t have time for a distraction.

She looked up when she heard Liam chuckling. He was shaking his head.

“What?” She couldn’t help but ask.

He shrugged. “I guess I should run into girls more often with my roommate’s dog. I didn’t realize it could be such a pleasant experience.”

“You must not walk her very often then.” Oh my, she was flirting. The Elf boys back home never brought that out of her. She felt her pale skin flush. Och, yes, this was a man, she thought. “Thank you, then. For the pleasant experience. And the untangling.”

“You’re welcome.” Liam said to her, smiling, that one dimple showing again. Then he spoke to the dog. “Come on Sally. Let’s finish your walk, so we can go watch the game.”

Dahlia waved good-bye and turned to go down the street and head for her apartment. But first she had to watch Liam walk away. He fit nicely into his jeans. For a moment, a pang of wistfulness washed through her. She shook her. She had other things to focus on, like completing her toy on time so she could get her Master Elf badge, and even win the Grand Prize.

She was sure she’d be able to make progress on her toy tonight. Maybe it was something about meeting a happy dog and tall brown-eyed man that made her feel hopeful. Yes, she would get her toy done in time.

***

Liam tugged on Sally’s leash. It had all happened so fast. She’d practically run into him. He’d had to yank on Sally’s leash to prevent the girl from running into him, which had made the normally quiet Sally bark.

The girl, well, actually more like a very nice looking woman—all that wild hair and those sparkly eyes that seemed to practically twinkle when she spoke. Must have been a trick of the afternoon light. She seemed so light-hearted. Dahlia MacMillian, with the soft lilt in her voice. Her mess of red hair part frizzy, part curl that turned golden red as the winter light touched it. A winter jacket covering tantalizing curves. Strong legs in hugging jeans. He almost wanted to make her do a pirouette so he could check out her ass. But he hadn’t.

She was so unlike the highly polished co-workers and high-rise office colleagues he worked with. He loved that environment. He loved his eclectic neighborhood, too. They were right next to an art school. By now he should expect to run into the artsy design type of people in this neighborhood in Oakland. So different from the financial district where he spent over sixty hours a week in downtown San Francisco.

He realized he’d been standing on the corner with Sally when she tugged on the leash, done with her business with sniffing every fifth bush. She needed to get walking. His roommate Josh Kleine, one of his best buddies from college, was away in Paris at a conference and had made him promise to walk Sally himself at least once a day. He did, even though a dog walker helped out during the week, while he was at work. But on the weekends, Liam thought he should walk Sally himself for her twice-daily walks, as he promised Josh.

“Okay, girl. Let’s go.” He picked up the pace and jogged with her up the quiet street.

Dahlia had been so friendly to the dog. She’d made him smile. God. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman made him smile like that. Maybe he could ask her out. No, he’d sworn off dating, even casually, since the fiasco with Christine back in February, seven months ago.

He turned up Clifton, crossed College Avenue, jogged up it a little more until he got to Broadway, then he crossed Broadway and took the dogleg turn and hiked up Broadway Terrace at a good clip to the golf course. On his way back down the hill, his cell phone rang. It was Josh, no doubt checking up on him to see how well he was treating Sally.

“Hey,” Liam answered.

“So?” Josh asked.

“She’s fine. We’re just heading back from our walk. We went as far as the golf course today. She’s got her miles in. Don’t worry. Second walk today, too.”

“And she got her food?”

“Of course. Who do you think I am?”

“It’s just the responsibility—”

“Seriously? We’re going to have this discussion again? I manage crazy-ass databases with hundreds of millions of dollars on the line for Cooper, Andrews & Sons. And you don’t trust me to feed your dog—”

“Cool your jets, Liam. Numbers don’t require regular feeding and—”

“Sally is your baby, I know, Josh. You’ll be back in a week, and you can look after her yourself. How’s the Transportation conference going? Meet any hot Parisian chicks yet?”

“It’s good. No, on the Parisian chicks. Just—no, never mind. Hey, I ran into one of your colleagues here. Michael Hendricks. He’s in your department, right?”

“Yeah, he handles the transportation portfolio analysis. Right. I forgot he was going.” Liam frowned.
“He told me he’s bringing his fiancée to the company Christmas party. And implied that you were going to lose out big time. Something about gaming you out of the corner office. MacAuley, that guy has it in for you.”

“Yeah, always does. He always wants what I have. Now he wants the same promotion I’m after.” He stole his girlfriend, ex-girlfriend from him. And Christine let it happen. “What’s this about bringing his fiancée to the party? What fiancée? Is it Christine?” He really didn’t want to see Christine ever again. He ground his teeth.

The promotion was a straight shot to a corner office, weekly golf with the shareholders, and a seat at the C-level table.
“I don’t know who,” Josh said. “Not surprised he plays the field. He’s a jerk. I heard his talk was poorly attended. Don’t worry, man. I didn’t go.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. Hey, how’s Brett? You guys do your weekly squash game last week?”

“Yeah. Like always. What? You’re homesick or something?”

“I don’t know. Yeah. Whatever. Something happened in our behind-the-scenes tour of the Paris Metro that shook me a little. I’m fine. We’re fine. It’s nothing. Just miss home, and my buds—”

“And your dog.”

“Yeah. I miss Sally. Put her on the phone.”

“Dude.”

“Come on.”

“I’m on the street.”

“So? It’s a crazy town, so just do it, okay? Hey, the French wouldn’t think it’s weird. They love their dogs.”

Liam huffed, but put his cell phone to Sally’s ear, so Josh could coo or whisper or whatever he did when he talked to Sally through the phone. Sally paused from her sniffing the millionth bush and lifted her ear a little, as if listening. He gave Josh a minute tops, then put the phone to his ear.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Gotta go get some shut eye to get up early for the conference tomorrow. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Sure. Take care. And go meet some French women, will you? Sounds like you need to get laid.”

“Where did that come from? Speak for yourself.”

Liam barked a laugh and clicked off the cell phone.

Josh was worse than Liam’s own mother for the way he checked up on him. At least his mother only expected to talk to him once a week. Tonight. He groaned inwardly. First he’d watch the football game. Then he’d call his mom. She’d still be up in New York, testing out new pastry recipes for her boutique Italian pastry company.

In five minutes he reached the bottom of the hill and crossed Broadway, turned right on College. A few minutes later, he turned at Forest Street, passing the toy store. He’d never really noticed it before, though he must have passed it hundreds of times on his runs, and certainly seven times in the last seven days he’d been walking Sally for Josh. This store must have been where Dahlia had done her toy shopping, though he hadn’t seen the bag logo clearly. She’d had stuffed animals and some tubes of sparkles sticking out of the top of the bag.

Perhaps she had kids. A wistful pang washed through him. He thought he’d start a family with Christine, but she killed that dream before it had a chance to blossom when he caught her cheating on him with Hendricks. He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend since he ended it with Christine seven months ago. Thank goodness he hadn’t proposed to her. He’d been thinking about it. Since then, he’d sworn off all dating. And he’d sworn off love.

Love was for losers. He had to bring someone to the party and show up Hendricks, and Christine, if it was Christine that Hendricks was bringing. Show them he was fine. Have a great time. Live it up, and all the while beat Hendricks out by getting his analysis in on time and under budget, so he would get the promotion over Hendricks.

His stomach grumbled, tearing him away from the past.

“Time for an early dinner, eh, Sally?” he said.

She gave a soft woof. He picked up the pace and jogged back home to the house on Locksley he shared with Josh. Sally kept pace with him the whole way, the perfect running companion. She didn’t talk and could keep up with him. He’d take her out for their morning run tomorrow at 5 a.m. before he left for work.

It wasn’t until he put the key in the front door that he realized what Michael’s jab about bringing his fiancée to the Christmas party was all about.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. Hendricks was bringing Christine. The guy was trying to psych him out, acting like having Christine at his side was his ace in the hole, his secret weapon. Hendricks wanted to push Liam’s buttons and have him lose focus on the big job. He wanted Liam to crash and burn so that he would get the promotion.

Liam slammed the door and felt like throwing his keys down the entry hall. His buttons were pushed all right. But throwing the keys would startle Sally and leave marks in the hardwood that he didn’t want to have to deal with or explain to Josh. So he dropped his keys in the ceramic bowl his grandmother had made for him eons ago. He slipped off his shoes, lined them up next to the entry mat, and unhooked Sally’s leash. She trotted off probably to find her favorite chew toy and settle down for a nap by the fireplace.

He tromped to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed the celery and Parmesan. He knew how to handle his anger. He’d focus it into something creative. He chopped some onions and celery, hammering the knife against the cutting board. Got the water going. Heated up some homemade tomato sauce. Grated some cheese.

What the hell was he going to do? He really wanted this promotion. It was what he’d been striving toward for the last eight years, through grad school and propelling his way up the ranks in the financial companies he’d been employed at across the country, until he’d landed at Cooper, Andrews & Sons three years ago.

He pictured contacting the vivacious Dahlia, the girl he’d just met, but brushed that thought aside. He didn’t even know where she lived, or how to contact her.

His cell phone rang. “Hi Mom. I was going to call you after the game. It’s about to start.”

“Liam, dear, have you married and made me a grandmother yet?” His mom’s favorite question of the day.

“Mom, not tonight.”

“What? Bad day? Did your team lose?”

“Ma, the game hasn’t started yet. Just got back from the dog walk.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing, Ma.”

“You’re cooking, aren’t you?

“Yeah.”

“You always cook when you’re upset. What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then at least tell me what you’re cooking.”


Liam sighed and relented, telling her what meal he had in mind. That took them both off his problems. For the time being.

About Beth Barany
Based in Oakland, California, Beth Barany writes magical tales of romance and adventure to transport
readers to new worlds where anything is possible.

In her off hours, Beth enjoys capoeira, travelling, and watching movies with her husband, bestselling author Ezra Barany, and playing with their two cats, Kitty and Leo.

You can connect with Beth on her site http://author.bethbarany.com

Where to Find A Christmas Fling
A Christmas Fling on Amazon: http://amzn.to/18ELyiY
A Christmas Fling on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1bytk64

Where to Find Beth Barany
Beth Barany’s website: http://author.bethbarany.com/
Beth Barany on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Beth_Barany
Beth Barany’s Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/bethbarany

It's no surprise ~ If you leave a comment below you will enter the giveaway of a copy of a Christmas Fling ~ Thanks Again Beth!





Friday, December 13, 2013

There's No Better Time For an Excerpt From the "Goodwill Tour" by @Keith_Maginn Than During the Season of Giving


This seems the perfect season for this quick feel-good read! 


Title: Goodwill Tour: Paying It Forward
Author: Keith Maginn (self-published/independent)

Summary
In mid-July of 2011, Keith Maginn, and his friend, Emily, set off from Cincinnati, Ohio, on a 3,000-mile road-trip through several southeastern states. The pair stopped in Memphis, New Orleans, Savannah, Charleston, Asheville and smaller towns in between. 

Goodwill Tour: Paying It Forward is a travelogue detailing a philanthropic experiment in this incredible country the two call home.

What makes their trip unique is that sightseeing wasn’t their sole purpose. Emily and Keith were determined to spread kindness as they worked to make a difference in the lives of others along the way. They gave their own money to hand-picked strangers, who then had to pay the money forward.

Goodwill Tour is the narrative of the places Emily and Keith visited and the people they met on their journey. It is an ode to the United States and, even more, a tribute to its people. From Beale Street to Bourbon Street and Graceland to the Biltmore Estate, from feeding the needy in downtown Charleston to brainstorming ideas with a female Buddhist monk to help abused teens and high school dropouts in North Carolina, readers will enjoy riding shotgun on the trip as they relive the experience of these life-altering events, and contemplate how people changed as a result.

Emily and Keith’s pay-it-forward mission will touch and inspire readers to take the trip that they’ve always dreamed of or to have a positive effect in the life of a loved one, an acquaintance, or even a complete stranger.

Length: 13 pages; 26,000 words (quick read!)
Amazon: Goodwill Tour: Paying It Forward
Release date: January 2013

Enjoy This Excerpt From Keith Maginn and The Goodwill Tour

First donation: Memphis, Tennessee

In the morning, Emily and I decided to heed several friends’ suggestions and took the $4 monorail to Mud Island River Park. On the ride over, a female staff member dressed in khakis and a bright red Mud Island polo shirt greeted us. Being the lone passengers at the time, Emily asked the attendant, “Are you our entertainment?” Without hesitation, our host did an impromptu dance for us.

We could tell immediately that Jena (pronounced “Gina”) was an affable young lady who didn’t waste time complaining about the 100-degree temperature. When questioned about her favorite part of the job, she said it was being able to meet people from all over the world, from Amsterdam to Hawaii. Her favorite thing about Memphis: “Beale Street. There are so many places to go and eat, to hear live music. It’s always live.”

Jena could have been in a foul mood, outside in excessive heat. Instead, she had a big smile for everyone, asked questions, and seemed genuinely interested in our responses.
Since two cars shuttled visitors to and from Mud Island, we told our new friend that we would catch her train on the way back (which she told us was the car that Tom Cruise had ridden during the chase scene in the movie The Firm). As we got off the rail, I hinted strongly to Emily that we’d just met our first donation recipient.

While we put the idea on the back burner, Em and I explored Mud Island. Had the temperature been 25 degrees cooler, the park would have been the ideal setting for a picnic. We saw several young adults singing and dancing, oblivious to the hotness. The sun shimmered on the Mississippi and a light breeze lifted from the water from time to time. It was a beautiful day in Memphis, with blue skies and few clouds.

When we stood by to return from the island, a staff member told us Jena was on her break for the next 45 minutes. We decided to wait. After all, we’d promised we would see her again.
So we plotted.

Giving money to a stranger was foreign to us. We didn’t know how to give cash to a person we had just met. Even Emily, who seems comfortable in any situation, was nervous.

I suggested we pose the idea to Jena as if we were conducting a survey, asking strangers what they would do if someone gave them $100. (Unlike the donations to come, this was not necessarily a pay-it-forward gift: One of Emily’s co-workers had donated $100 to be used specifically in Memphis, as her family had lived there years ago when her husband was in the military.)

Soon enough, we saw Jena again. She remembered our names, which impressed us, as she probably saw hundreds of people every day. Jena looked suspicious: “They told me y'all wouldn’t get back on without me.”


Emily: “Well, we told you that we’d see you on our way back.”

About the Author
Keith Maginn was born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio, the youngest of four kids. He attended Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, as an Evans Scholar. After earning a Bachelor's degree in Sociology, Keith relocated to Knoxville, Tennessee, to work for AmeriCorps (a service organization like the Peace Corps, but within the United States) and for Knoxville Habitat for Humanity.

Keith recently moved back to Cincinnati after living nearly ten years in Tennessee. He likes to be around family and friends and has eight nieces and nephews that he adores. He loves playing and watching many sports and also enjoys live music, writing, meditation, yoga and reading.

In December 2012, Keith self-published an inspiring self-help memoir, Turning This Thing Around. Maginn's second book, Goodwill Tour: Paying It Forward, is about a philanthropic experiment on the road. Released in January of 2013, the author hopes it will be his second book of many more to come. He feels writing is his life's purpose and that he has a message to share that will help others

Keith Would Love to Connect With You
maginnka@yahoo.com
Website: keithmaginn.com
Twitter: @Keith_Maginn


If you enjoyed this excerpt, why not share it with a friend?

Thank you for sharing with us today, Keith.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Patricia Cornwell book excerpt: Inside the hunt for a killer

Patricia Cornwell's
Patricia Cornwell's "Dust" book cover (Putnam)
(CBS News) In Patricia Cornwell's "Dust," the author continues the story of Kay Scarpetta in the twenty-first installment of her wildly popular series.
In "Dust," readers are re-introduced to the Scarpetta, chief medical examiner and the director of the Cambridge Forensic Center in Cambridge, Mass., where she coaxes the truth out of dead bodies and grisly acts of violence. At this point in her career, Scarpetta has seen it all and very little throws her, but right now she is exhausted and shaken having just returned from working one of the worst mass killings in U. S. history-the blood bath at the Newtown, Conn., elementary school. She's barely home and recovering from the flu when she gets a call about a dead body discovered on the nearby MIT campus. The grad student, identified as Gail Shipton, has been found on an athletic field wrapped in unusual cloth and posed in a deliberate way that suggests this isn't the killer's first victim.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Keith Magninn Shares an Excerpt From His Memoir Turning This Thing Around

Summary:
Turning This Thing Around is an inspiring memoir of overcoming personal struggles. This brutally honest, deeply personal account of redemption takes readers on a moving spiritual journey. Confronted with caring for a manic depressive fiancée in addition to several of his own obstacles, the author was outwardly happy, but inwardly miserable. Pushed to the lowest point of his life, Maginn shares how he gradually turned things around and used his experiences to grow as a person.

Supplemented by heartfelt poetry by the author and with quotes from Gandhi to Dr. Wayne Dyer to Eckhart Tolle, Turning This Thing Around has universal themes that speak to nearly everyone, as we all must face challenges as part of being human. Turning This Thing Around is a story of a normal young man’s resiliency when battling extraordinary circumstances.

Excerpt from Turning This Thing Around


HELL


What the hell did we do to deserve this? That question has popped into my head a few dozen times in the past several months. I’m in a shit-hole motel somewhere in Atlanta, but it might as well be a five-star hotel compared to my fiancée’s situation: Mary is in a psych ward being treated for severe bipolar/manic depression. I just got off the phone with her. She was hysterical, begging me to sneak her Coca-Cola and muscle-relaxers.

I have no idea what to do or how much longer I can take this. Tears are streaming down my face and I am asking God, once again, for help. My life has fallen apart and I see no daylight ahead.

Mary is still furious with me about check-in night at the “rehabilitation center,” as they delicately call it. She is enraged at me because I refused to give her muscle-relaxers despite strict orders to the contrary. Weaning her off the plethora of medications she was on was the whole idea of bringing her here: sixteen prescribed meds daily and another ten to be used “as needed.” Up to twenty-six different medications a day for one person (and she weighed less than 120 lbs.)!

And they were not helping; quite the opposite, actually.

I stood firm on that first night, refusing to “help her pain” by disobeying facility commands. Mary cried and told me to leave; she said I must not really love her. I stalled for a few minutes, waiting for her to change her mind. She did not.

Hadn’t I proven time after time I would always be there, that I truly loved her and would do anything I could for her? Hadn’t I talked her out of suicide multiple times, holding her on the bathroom floor or in bed as she cried uncontrollably night after night? Didn’t I lay with her in the hospital telling her things would be better someday? And now she’s saying I don't care and she doesn’t want me around?

So I left the building.

I went to my car to think for a few minutes. I decided to go back to Mary’s room. I asked her if she really wanted me to go. She said if I wouldn't give her the muscle-relaxers, then I should.

I left again.
*
The Most Loving Thing I Could Do
sitting outside your prison
where they’re trying to figure you out
wondering why you?
why now?
what’s this crazy world all about?

Been trying to read a little
but thinking of you a lot
you’re stuck inside alone
wondering if you’ll make it or not
I keep tearing up
looking to the sky
drops smack the pavement
as I ask “oh God, why?”

I know you feel so alone
maybe someday it will make sense to you
why I didn’t give you what you asked for
that’s the most loving thing I could do

I withheld from you
what I was ordered not to give
even when you said
I should leave
there was no reason for you to live

I would give up us
my love
only if that would help you
maybe someday you will understand
that’s the most loving thing I could do.

–KM (February ’08)

*
Mary had been manic on the drive down from Knoxville, Tennessee, the phase of her illness when she felt indescribable euphoria. I dreaded this stage because of the devastating low that inevitably followed. And it wasn’t her; it was a fake happiness, a mirage.

She’d had these sporadic manic periods for years, often staying awake for days. Mary would finish entire novels in one sitting or jog for miles, despite rarely exercising normally. It was a fantasy-like high, as if she were on hallucinogenic drugs.

The rehab center was one highly-monitored hallway of rooms. Patients stood inert with blank expressions on their faces. Others stared at bare walls as if there were no life inside them. I could not tell what gender some of the patients were. There were odd, primal sounds coming out of several rooms.

Nearly all the patients had attempted suicide at least once, some several times. Many were in the midst of electro-shock treatments. It was a sullen, grave place, much like the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest with Jack Nicholson.

The huge difference to me, of course, was that in this real-life psych ward, my fiancée was the main character.

Mary was adamant that no one know the whole truth of our predicament. A great number of prejudices and stereotypes are associated with mental illness in our society and she did not want to be judged unfairly. Nor did she want pity. My friends and family eventually began to suspect something was not right, but chose not to pry. I admitted to others that Mary struggled with migraines and insomnia—which she did—but no one had a clue how serious her problems were.

In the meantime, I could feel myself slipping away. I was going down with the ship. My mind was a whirlwind of worry, sadness, confusion and anger. It was overwhelming.

I feared I was losing my mind.

Repeatedly, I asked God for help, but things kept getting worse. What did Mary do to deserve this? She was a good person—so great with kids—yet had suffered almost her entire life.

And, what did I do? I was a good person. Had I not spent years in low-paying jobs helping others instead of chasing a bigger paycheck elsewhere? And for what, so we could struggle with bills and barely afford groceries?

I often feared Mary would finally give up. She swore she could never do that to me, but she talked about it often.

We had no idea how long Mary would be at the rehab center. Thank God my boss was understanding and told me to stay as long as I needed and not worry about work right now (I only told my boss that Mary’s health was terrible and we were going to a center to help her regulate her medications). I had very little money, hence the shoddy motel. My “smoke-free” room reeked of cigarettes and had multiple burn holes in the drapes and comforter. The cleaning crew neglected to clean the shavings from the previous guest, which were still on the bathroom counter-top and in the sink. Yet compared to Mary’s circumstances, I had no right to feel sorry for myself.

After Mary asked me to leave, I drove an hour toward home before I swallowed my pride and returned to be with her. I didn’t know if she would pull through. I didn’t know if either of us would ever be “okay” again. I had no idea how we’d gotten into this mess or if we could get back out.

Visiting hours at the center were 5 to 9 pm. I spent the days reading and writing, but mostly worrying. I also passed time in a small hospital chapel next door to Mary’s facility, meditating and praying. I prayed mostly for Mary, but—for the first time in years—I also prayed for myself.

Author bio:
Keith Maginn was born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio, the youngest of four kids. He attended Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, as an Evans Scholar. After earning a Bachelor's degree in Sociology, Keith relocated to Knoxville, Tennessee, to work for AmeriCorps (a service organization like the Peace Corps, but within the United States) and for Knoxville Habitat for Humanity.


In December 2012, Keith self-published an inspiring self-help memoir, Turning This Thing Around. Maginn's second book, Goodwill Tour: Paying It Forward, is about a philanthropic experiment on the road. Released in January of 2013, the author hopes it will be his second book of many more to come. He feels writing is his life's purpose and that he has a message to share that will help others.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Granddaughter’s Bedtime Story Forms New Book #excerpt #kidslit


It’s the privilege of nearly every grandparent to tell their grandchildren stories at bedtime, and every so often one of those stories is so well-loved that they’re forced to repeat it again and again. With the publication of her new children’s bookDown by the Sea” (published by AuthorHouse), author Robbie Zeigler’s granddaughter will have her story immortalized.

Read an excerpt from “Down by the Sea”: Granddaughter’s Bedtime Story Forms New Book

Monday, October 3, 2011

Excerpt From Shoulder Bags and Shootings: A Haley Randolph #Mystery by Dorothy Howell


Detective Madison had taken the power position in the chair behind Jeanette's desk and Shuman stood off to the side. Jeanette retreated to the corner. In that dress she looked like a tropical sunset during a nuclear winter.
"So," Madison said, rearing back in the chair, "you want to tell us what happened?"
That was a trick question. I knew because I'd been questioned by the police before. I'd already explained myself to Shuman and he'd, of course, passed it all on to Madison. He just wanted me to tell my story again.
Under other circumstances, I might have hesitated. But not this time. There was absolutely no way Madison could stick me with this murder. I'd simply had the misfortune of driving a car that had a dead body stuffed into the trunk at the airport. I wasn't worried.
"Haley, you don't have to say anything," Jeanette said.
Madison looked excited, as if invoking my rights meant I was guilty of something.
"I'm happy to cooperate," I said.
"You're entitled to have an attorney present," Jeanette said.
Jeanette knew I was involved with Ty, the owner of the department store chain of which she hoped to remain employed, though she'd never come right out and said anything. I'm sure she figured it out, though, the night I was leaving for Europe with Ty and he called her at home and explained I wouldn't be at work for a few weeks.
Now she was just covering her bases. Jeanette wanted to make sure that during my next pillow-talk session with Ty, I told him that she'd been concerned about me during the police interview. Little did she realize that the only thing I was likely to mention was the hideous dress she had on.
Not that Ty would listen anyway.
"I don't need a lawyer," I said, smiling pleasantly, as any innocent person would. "The car belongs to Ada Cameron. We picked it up at the airport last night after we landed. It had been there for a couple of weeks."
Detective Madison just stared. "Go on."
I didn't really see what else there was to explain, except maybe to give them the reason Ada and I hadn't found the body in the trunk last night at the airport. If we'd had luggage instead of just a small carry-on, we'd have made the discovery there.
I guess I didn't speak fast enough for Madison because he said, "And how did you end up here at the store with the car this morning?"
"I dropped Ada off at home last night after we left the airport so she wouldn't have to be out so late. I used the car to pick up some clothing Holt's was donating to charity."
"First thing this morning? What was the hurry?" Madison asked.
"Because I was going shopping."
Okay, that sounded kind of lame. So what could I do but give more details?
"I saw the new Sinful handbag in Elle last night," I said.
"Elle?" Madison asked.
"The fashion magazine," I told him.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Jeez, what's wrong with him? Wasn't it obvious?
"I wanted to get to the mall and find the handbag before they were all sold out," I told him.
"Let me be sure I have this straight," Madison said, shifting in his chair. "You got up early after a grueling flight from London. First thing you wanted to do was go to the mall. You could have waited for Mrs. Cameron to show up, but you didn't. You could have taken your own car to pick up the charity donation, but you didn't. And all of this was because of some handbag?"
When he said it like that, it did sound kind of weird, but it was the truth.
"Yes, that's right," I told him.
Everybody was staring at me now. Shuman, Madison, even Jeanette. I started to get a yucky feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Did you get a look at the victim in the trunk?" Madison asked.
I was kind of relieved he'd changed direction in his questioning. Guess he understood, after all.
"I saw her," I said.
"Recognize her?"
I shook my head. "No."
"You've never seen her before," Madison said, making it a statement, rather than a question.
I got the yucky feeling again.
"I have no idea who she is," I said.
"None at all?"
Maybe I should stop talking now.
"Look," I said, "I don't know anything more – "
"Well, as it turns out, we know lots more to talk about," Detective Madison said, and suddenly I knew exactly what the canary must have felt like the second the cat opened its mouth.
Madison leaned closer. "We talked to Ada Cameron. She's telling a different story. She says that she never gave her permission for you to take her car anywhere, except to your apartment. She didn't ask you to pick up the clothing for the shelter. In fact, she told you to stay home, she'd get the car from you at eleven this morning."
"Well, yeah, but I told you I wanted to go to the mall and get that – "
"Handbag. Yeah, right," Madison said and grunted. "And when you got to the store you didn't park out front where you usually park, did you? You circled around to the back. You parked as far from the building as you could, without making it look obvious. And when you got out of the car, you looked around to see if anyone had seen you, didn't you."
"But that was – "
"We have witnesses," Madison said. "Don't lie."
"I'm not lying!"
"The assistant store manager said he saw you in the stock room, but you ran off, like you didn't want him to see you and know that you were in the store," Madison said.
"I didn't want him to – "
"And that kid back in men's wear. What's his name?" Madison asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"Troy," Shuman said, checking his notes.
"Yeah, Troy. He told us you practically ran over him trying to get out of the store."
I was not getting into the whole porn star thing with Madison. Not with Jeanette standing there.
"And about the victim." Detective Madison gestured to Shuman.
"Tiffany Markham," he replied.
"Are you still claiming you don't know her?" Madison asked.
"I don't know anybody named Tif – "
Oh God.
The little yucky feeling in the pit of my stomach doubled in size.
"Tiffany Markham," Madison said. "She's the co-owner of a purse party business, along with that woman Rita who works right here in the store. Your arch rival in the purse party business. The person who's booking bigger parties than you. The person who's selling more bags than you. The person who's trying to ruin you. That's who Tiffany Markham is. Isn't she? Isn't she?"
Oh, crap.
The above is an excerpt from the book Shoulder Bags and Shootings: A Haley Randolph Mystery by Dorothy Howell. The above excerpt is a digitally scanned reproduction of text from print. Although this excerpt has been proofread, occasional errors may appear due to the scanning process. Please refer to the finished book for accuracy.
Copyright © 2010 Dorothy Howell, author of Shoulder Bags and Shootings: A Haley Randolph Mystery
Source: FSB Media