February 18, 2015

NEW BOOK ALERT:
"Love After War" by Té Russ

About the book:
Connie and Drew have been butting heads since they were teenagers. With Connie refusing to talk about anything from their past, Drew has never figured out what made them go from friends to enemies.

Drew decides to finally get to the root of their lifelong feud when Connie ends up in Texas for a remodeling project. When the truth comes out, it just might bring out some feelings both of them have been refusing to acknowledge for over a decade.

About the Author:

Growing up an introvert, Té Russ found solace in literary arts at an early age. She found reading to be a vehicle to broader horizons and writing a form of self-expression. She began writing love stories in her adolescent years as a way to expel her youthful thoughts of love into words. Since then she has gone from writing stories and thoughts of love in journals to attending college for journalism and falling in love, which has allowed those youthful words of love to blossom into a series of stories in her romance novels. Though she has an immense appreciation for the sheer smell that books collectively exert, she also has found balance to her introverted nature with adrenaline inducing activities. So if she does not have her nose pressed deeply into a book or her pen ticking through a pad, you may also find this mother of three baking some tasty treats, jumping out of airplanes, cheering her husband on at the top of her lungs at MMA fights, buzzing down the interstate on the back of motorcycles, or kayaking.

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Email: terussnovels@gmail.com

Books available on Amazon

Excerpt, Love After War:

“What are we doing here, Andrew?” Connie asked, annoyed.

“This is where we’re having lunch,” he replied simply. “You still eat pizza, don’t you?”

They were standing in the waiting area of Uno Chicago Grill, simply known as Uno’s in the area.

It looked a lot like a pizzeria they used to go to as kids in the summer in Galveston. She wondered if he’d brought her here on purpose.

“Yes, I still eat pizza, but–”

“Great, here comes the hostess to seat us.”

The lady barely looked at Connie; she was so busy eyeballing Drew. And flirting just a tad too much.

“Can I get you anything to drink, honey?” she cooed, while brushing her hand up and down his shoulder.

“Constance?”

“What?” she asked, tearing her glare away from the woman.

He tried to hide the smirk on his face. “What would you like to drink?”

“Iced tea. Sweet.”

“I’ll have the same thing,” he said, never taking his eyes off of Connie. “Iced tea. Sweet.”

“I’m sure it’s not as sweet as you.”

“I’m hardly sweet,” he replied, causing the hostess to laugh a little too hysterically and all but throw herself into Drew’s lap.

After she was done fawning over him, she sauntered off with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

Connie couldn’t wipe the scowl off of her face and Drew was about to say something when Miss Laughs-a-lot returned.

“Joss will be your waitress today, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

Connie watched as the woman slipped a piece of paper down in front of him. She rolled her eyes as the woman walked away.

“Unbelievable,” Connie murmured.

“What is?”

“That... woman. She was throwing herself all over you, Andrew.”

He shrugged. “I suppose she was a little flirty.”

Connie laughed. “A little flirty? Andrew, please! She was two seconds away from giving you a lap dance right in front of me. And she didn’t acknowledge me once. It was as if I wasn’t even here. For all she knew I could have been your date or girlfriend, but she didn’t care.”

“But you do?” Drew asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you’re not my girlfriend. And technically this isn’t a date, just lunch. So why do you care if some hostess flirts with me?”

“You are completely incorrigible! It’s simply rude of her to flirt with a man in front of lady company. And it’s just bad customer service to ignore patrons. Besides that, I don’t care who flirts with you or whom you flirt with.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing! I didn’t flirt with her. In fact, if I recall, I never took my eyes off of you.”

Connie opened her mouth to argue, but she couldn’t because he was right. Drew seemed to have barely to noticed the hostess.

“Well–”

“If I didn’t know any better, Barb, I’d say you were jealous.”

He watched as the color rose up her neck and filled her cheeks. “Andrew McAllister, I am not jealous of some floozy hitting on you!”

He chuckled, and then said, “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks!’”

She scoffed. “Quoting Hamlet does not make you cute.”

“So what does make me cute?” he asked, his voice filled with a hint of intrigue.

Connie threw a napkin at him and he laughed out loud.

Joss, the waitress, showed up then and took their food orders. She was clearly a young girl, probably a college student and was completely enamored with Drew as well. Thankfully, she wasn’t shameless like the hostess. The poor girl could barely speak. She kept looking at Connie and stealing glances toward Drew, as if he were the sun and just too bright to look at directly.

Drew ordered for them, remembering exactly how Connie liked her pizza.

Another thing from their past, she thought. But she let it slide this time, because the poor girl nearly knocked over their glasses of iced tea.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized to them both.

“It’s all right,” he said to her.

Connie nodded. “Don’t worry honey, no harm done.”

The girl scuffled off to put in their orders and Connie couldn’t help but laugh.

“The great Andrew McAllister, turning women all over the place into crazed fools.”

“Except you,” he said sarcastically.

If only you knew, she thought.

“I’m not the only one causing trouble in here,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“The man sitting at the table behind you, at your five o’clock...”

Connie used the excuse of tucking her hair behind her ear to glance over her shoulder and caught a man averting his eyes from their direction.

“He’s been staring at your legs since you walked past him.”

“What? That’s ridicu–”

“The man at the table behind me, at your two o’clock.. .”

He waited for her to glance over his shoulder and then look back at him.

“Well,” he said, slightly annoyed, “Let’s just say he’s been looking a little bit North of your legs, South of your neck.”

She gasped at what he was implying.

“How could you know that?” she asked in a whisper, leaning closer toward him.

“Part of my job is to make sure I know everything going on in my surroundings.”

“Well, I guess you do your job pretty well.”

He shrugged. “I’m still alive.”

There was something in the tone of his voice when he said those words. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought it sounded like remorse.
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 Love After War is available now at Amazon! Purchase yours today! And if you're intrigued, show Té some love and leave a comment below!

February 17, 2015

Brrrrrrr!

Given the exceptionally cold winter, this isn't such a bad idea...

How are you coping with the cold?

January 31, 2015

"I'm definitely not running for President...I might run for President...No, I'm not going to run President..."


I'm not a psychiatrist, but I'm going to take a stab at what makes Mitt Romney tick:

Here is a man raised in privilege who has had smashing success at virtually anything he set out to do, and he wanted to be President.  He lost the 2008 nomination to John McCain, but got it in 2012.  His apparent willingness to say whatever he thought the base wanted him to say in order to win the White House made him impossible to read, although he had solid support among die-hard Republicans.  His wife's lament that "It was our turn," after the 2012 loss against President Obama smacks of a sense of entitlement.

My jaw dropped when Romney announced his interest in making a third attempt, after declaring on multiple occasions that he wasn't going to run again (I'm not sure if any major party politician has attempted three Presidential runs). It was comical watching him reverse his opinions, not only about running, but about his sudden concern for the Americans living in poverty that he didn't care about last time around.  Some attendees of his New York meeting, billed as a social event to mix with old friends he hadn't seen in awhile, were rankled when it was revealed to be an exploratory meeting, because it made them appear to be Romney supporters, when many of them had already gotten behind Jeb Bush.

Speaking of the former Florida governor, I don't believe it was coincidental that Romney announced his change of heart until after it started looking more and more like Jeb Bush is going to run.  Romney is competitive, and I don't think he cared much for the idea of an already established political dynasty making history.

As for that parting shot about stepping aside in favor of a new generation of not widely known Republicans stepping up to lead the party (a pretty direct jab at Jeb), consider this: Mitt Romney's father (George) wanted to be President (he didn't advance far enough in the primaries for it to be determined whether he was even eligible under somewhat murky citizenship regulations and having born in Mexico). Jeb Bush's father (George) also wanted to be President, but unlike the other George, he made it, as did his son, also named George, a contemporary of Mitt's.

Am I the only one who senses characteristics of entitlement, competition, and jealousy here? 

I'm glad he realized that running again would only be a public embarrassment for him as his backers almost certainly turn to other candidates they deem more viable than a third-time also-ran and his competitors (even those in the same political party) make mincemeat of his changing his mind so often. Anyone who seeks the presidency because they've gotten everything else they wanted, so therefore this should be theirs as well, plus not wanting to be bested by another political family who succeeded where theirs failed, are not good reasons for wanting to be President.  

Mitt Romney appears to be a still-vigorous man in his late sixties. My hope is that he will simply walk off into the sunset, enjoy his family and his millions, and never appear on the political landscape again...    

January 20, 2015

Only in the movies...

Movies have always been a big part of my life. I’m the youngest of five, with my siblings ranging between five and ten years my senior. That feels like half a generation when you’re six or so. But somehow, when we would gather around that huge (the console itself, not the screen, which was actually only about 15 inches), old television set in my youngest brother’s room (where it was relegated after my parents purchased a smaller, more contemporary Zenith for the living room), the years separating us melted away.

We watched youth-oriented programming, cartoons and those silly situation comedies. Believe it or not, in the early 1960s three of the five of us were not allowed to stay up late enough to watch the #1 rated program, The Beverly Hillbillies, which came on at 9PM.

My fondest memories involved the movies we watched, those sword-and-sandal Steve Reeves epics depicting ancient Rome, Abbott and Costello comedies, and fantasy monster movies. I was enraptured by King Kong’s wild rampages, and to this day I adore Mighty Joe Young, in spite of the transparently crude special effects in the original low-budget B-picture version, and consider it to be one of the few films with an excellent remake.

Today, over 50 years later, I love to spend the early morning and afternoon hours as I work on my latest novel in front of the television screen, watching Turner Classic Movies. Over the years, I’ve noticed things that happen regularly in old movies that are highly unlikely to occur in real life, then or now. Maybe you’ll recognize a few (or share some I might have left out in the Comments):

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• People dressed in their best to go rob a bank.
• People leave town carrying all their clothes in a single, not-very-big suitcase are then seen wearing wardrobes that can only be described as extensive.
• Poor widows often dress in Chanel suits (most famously Lana Turner in Imitation of Life), and their one cocktail dress looks like it came straight out of that month’s Vogue.
• The clothes that the escaped convict pulls off some stranger's clothesline are always his exact size.
• The casts of Westerns are always remarkably clean, considering the scarcity of bathtubs at that time, and so are their clothes. And everyone’s teeth are pearly white, even if they’re always seen chewing tobacco.
• Speaking of Westerns, funny how someone usually gets knocked through a glass window but never seems to get cut.
• No matter what type of fall the hero takes in the fight scene, he always jumps up and keeps fighting…even if it’s six feet down landing flat on his back onto a glacier...yes, a glacier. I saw this once in a Victor Mature movie set in Montana's Glacier Park, and I howled with laughter. Anyone else would have broken their damn back.
• When the good guy who is being wrongfully pursued has to beat it quickly the car always stalls once, twice, starting up the third time, just as they’re about to be captured.
• A woman being chased always falls and sprain her ankle, then will have to be carried.
• People ride with convertible tops down in the dead of winter, with neither hats blowing off nor hair moving more than a cursory half-inch.
• Drivers look at their passenger for long stretches while talking (usually while driving said convertible), not watching the road for long stretches but never crashing.
• Gas tanks always explode in a crash.
• People in midtown Manhattan always find a parking spot right in front of their destination.
• No one in midtown Manhattan ever has a hard time getting a cab.
• People entering packed nightclubs always manage to get a choice table right up front.
• Pretty gals in their 20s and 30s always fall for men in their 50s or 60s. (C’mon, if you looked like Audrey Hepburn, would you want Humphrey Bogart?)
• Women always awaken with perfectly coiffed hair and in full makeup, with no blemishes.
• Men's chests are just about always hairless.
• The orphanage or other building is on fire with people trapped inside, and the fire department is nowhere to be found.
• The solder in a war movie who talks about his postwar plans to marry his sweetheart, go to work at the town's mill and have a houseful of kids, etc., dies in the very next scene.
• Anyone who coughs on film is dead two scenes later (I saw this plot device used as recently as 2007, in the movie Daddy’s Little Girls).
• No one is ever buried on a sunny day; it’s always storming outside.
• Golfers always have caddies, but who supplied Robin Hood with that endless supply of arrows?

See you at the movies!

October 31, 2014

Gone Blogging

I know I've been MIA...I'm feverishly working on a Christmas release that I hope will come to fruition (or else I'll hve to wait until next Christmas...not an appealing prospect). 

In the meantime, I did an interview on Cheryl Holloway's blog, talking about my writing career and my new release, Love Will Grow...hope you'll stop by! Comments are always welcome...

Back to write some more!

September 10, 2014

For Keeps by Deatri King-Bey

Got the midweek blues? Dump the doldrums and get engrossed in Deatri King-Bey’s latest, For Keeps!

Here’s Deatri to tell you about it. Take it away, Deatri!

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In my upcoming romantic suspense, For Keeps, Gina Guy’s daughter has witnessed a murder and the murderer is after the little girl. Child Protective Services is manipulated into the picture, and Jarvis Martin, a manager within the agency, steps in to protect the Guy’s rights. From the moment Gina meets Jarvis, she feels she can depend on him, but life has proven to her that the only person she can count on is Gina. Will they be able to stop the murderer? Can Jarvis earn her trust and love?

Heavy topic for a romance, huh? I’m known for taking non-conventional characters and topics and spinning them into a romance. I like to create dialogue. The moment I released the For Keeps blurb, people started asking me where the idea came from. I’ve often said that I have voices in my head that tell me their stories, then I relay those stories to you though my books. Basically, I put my psychosis to work.

Events usually wake those voices in my head and cause them to start speaking to me. The voices from For Keeps came about as the result of two incidents. A few years back, I noticed more reports of children being murdered down here (Arizona) by abusive parents on the news. This was a very noticeable increase. There was actually an event that correlated to the increase in deaths and abuse. I can’t remember the number, but there were like 2,500 reported cases of abuse that were never investigated during that time period. Big time scandal. Lots of people fired over that.

In incident two, I know someone who was reported to CPS by the hospital she delivered her baby in because there were narcotics in the baby’s system. Actually, hospitals must report when babies are born with drugs in their system. That sounds like a good thing, right?

Well, the hospital neglected to inform CPS that the mother had been a patient in the hospital and administered the narcotic by the nurses. The mother didn’t even realize what they were giving her was a narcotic until after CPS contacted her and told them they’d be taking her child from her for him testing positive for narcotics.  This mother went into a panic. She did everything her CPS case manager asked for, but CPS didn’t do their part. Then the case manager’s boss came into the picture and took steps to take this child away from the mother. It got really ugly.

To make a long story short, the original case manager came back into the picture and stopped the insanity. Had it not been for that case manager, this woman’s child would have been taken from her even though the hospital had supplied the paperwork requested by CPS. Sounds crazy, huh? Yeah, I couldn’t believe what was happening as it unfolded.

These incidents breathed life into Gina and Jarvis. There are good parents caught up in the system every day. There are bad parents that children need to be protected from. There are bad case managers and there are good case managers.

I don’t know, this seemed like the perfect backdrop for a romantic suspense. Next thing you know, Gina and Jarvis were telling me their story. I hope you enjoy For Keeps. This title is now available in Print, Kindle, Nook and ePub (via Barnes & Noble) formats. You can read the first chapter here.

Bettye, thank you for giving me the opportunity to share For Keeps. I appreciate it and you.

Deatri King-Bey

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You’re so welcome, Deatri! Sounds like my kinda book. I love stories where characters fall in love under unusual circumstances. Readers, you’re in for a treat!

September 5, 2014

Cover Reveal and Excerpt

At long last, Love Will Grow is finally complete. It's being edited right now. I haven't assigned a release date yet, but it will probably be around the end of this month or perhaps early in October. If there's one thing I've learned since being an indie writer, it's not to be so quick to hit the Publish button; take your time and do it right.

First, the cover:

 
If this looks familiar, it's because this is part of my Love Will series. This is the final book; the earlier titles are Lost That Lovin' Feeling (a short prequel) and the novel Love Will Follow. For the convenience of those who might have missed any of these prior studies, I'll be offering a bundle with all three titles at a savings. For those of you who've read the other books, I'll be offering Love Will Grow on pre-order on Amazon for $2.99...the price will go up to $3.99 on the release date, so you'll save by pre-ordering. If you need a PDF or an EPUB, those will be available at my eStore at an even sweeter deal!

In the meantime, here's an excerpt for you. Enjoy!
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Nylah got out of the car, slammed the door shut, then hurried inside the small post office branch on her route home. A small, one-person post office, it closed at 5:30. It was now 5:24, but she still had time to buy stamps, get the envelope containing her rebate date stamped, and get to Dillon’s daycare by six.

She held the door of the post office open for a slow-moving elderly gentleman, who thanked her profusely in a voice creaking with age. When she went to pull the envelope out of her purse, she realized she’d left it sitting on the passenger seat of the car. She cursed under her breath as she rushed back outside to retrieve it. As she did, she noticed an old Ford Taurus pull into the parking lot.

It only took a few seconds to get the envelope. She rushed back toward the post office entrance.

“Hello, Ms. Taylor.”

Turning sharply at the sound of her name, Nylah found herself looking dead into the eyes of Detective Marc Samuels. She felt her jaws tighten, then forced herself to relax her expression. She’d been contacted by his partner, Detective Sayegh, last week. They planned to charge the already imprisoned woman with identity theft upon her release. Unfortunately but not surprisingly, she had claimed innocence, and they were unable to get her to confess having known anything at all about Dillon’s personal information, much less giving or selling it to anyone. Detective Sayegh told Nylah that they would try again when she was released from prison, offering to reduce the charges against her in exchange for names of her clients and/or partners. He told her that people’s memories often improved once they were arrested.

At least she knew who was responsible for what happened, even if nothing ever became of it. That part of the nightmare was over, and the detectives on the case, John Sayegh and Marc Samuels, had been the ones to solve it. So what if Marc had been inconsiderate with his questions about Dillon and had stepped into matters that shouldn’t concern him when suggesting that she tell Dillon about his birth parents. His apology in the hospital cafeteria had felt genuine. The least she could do was be civil to him.

“Detective,” she said with a curt nod. “You’ll have to excuse me. They’re going to be closing at any moment.” Once more she rushed toward the entrance.

He was behind her in an instant, reaching forward to open the door for her. “Thank you,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“You’re welcome.” Marc inadvertently licked his lips. Nylah Taylor was, in the words of a sexy jazz tune by Harry Connick Jr., one fine thing. It still distressed him to have clashed with her, not once, but twice. He’d like nothing more than to get another chance with her, especially now that the perpetrator of Dillon’s identity theft was now in the hands of the justice system, delayed as it would be. He didn’t often meet a woman who piqued his interest in the way Nylah had. As he watched her make a purchase, then step aside with her change in hand, he decided to go for it. He moved up to the counter, barely a foot away from her as she put her change away. The clerk gestured to him that he’d be with him in just a moment. That was even better. He’d prefer not to have an audience, and the only other person present was an elderly man who was handling some sort of paperwork at a rear counter. “Ms. Taylor, do you think I could speak with you for just a moment?”

He was pleased when she actually smiled at him. “I’m terribly sorry, but I have to pick up Dillon at his daycare by six o’clock at the latest. I’m already in trouble with the management. They’re threatening to terminate his enrollment because I’ve been late several times recently. So I’m afraid I have to run.” She gathered her change purse and wallet and returned them to her handbag, which she slid onto her shoulder. “Take care.”

Marc knew better than to ask if he could call her. He wasn’t sure whether or not she was brushing him off, but he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. She seemed sincere enough, and she’d even given him one of her beautiful smiles. He imagined the two of them sitting over a candlelit dinner in a romantic restaurant, a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes.

“A book of stamps, please,” he said to the clerk, who had returned.

Nylah’s voice rang out, sounding more than a little distressed. “Excuse me. Can you let me out, please? This door is locked.”

“That’s because it’s past five-thirty,” the clerk replied. “Because I’m the only one here, I have to take care of the remaining customers, and you’ll all have to leave at the same time.” He handed Marc his change and receipt. “Thank you, sir.”

“But I have to be somewhere in a few minutes!”

One look at Nylah’s agitated expression, and Marc knew she hadn’t been kidding about needing to pick up Dillon on time. Apparently when the clerk excused himself, he’d gone to lock the door. He’d been so busy talking to Nylah he hadn’t noticed.

Damn, he must really be taken with her. Rarely did he find himself unaware of what was going on around him. In his profession such inattentiveness could be dangerous.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the clerk said apologetically. “If I let out each customer one at a time, I’d never get out of here. But there’s only one customer left.”

Marc’s eyes immediately went to the elderly man who was shuffling forward. Instinctively he knew the clerk’s final transaction of the day would be no quick matter, as his and Nylah’s business had been.

He approached Nylah, who appeared to be hyperventilating as she watched the old man pull out a list. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, though not necessarily to him—he wasn’t sure she even saw him. “He’s getting money orders. More than one, if those envelopes are all bills.” She looked as if she was about to cry. “I’ll never get to Merrillville in time.”

Standing beside her, Marc decided to make his presence known. “It looks like we’re stuck for the duration…like being in a traffic jam.”

She looked at him as if noticing him for the first time. The despair in her eyes turned into hope as she asked, “Can’t you do something?”

“Me? What could I possibly do?”

“You’re a law enforcement officer. Flash your badge and demand he let us out of here.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Ms. Taylor. I work for the city of Gary. The post office is a federal jurisdiction. I’m not authorized to interfere in their business.”

“But you’d have to if it was an emergency.”

“Wrong again. I’m officially off-duty. That could easily be proven, and I’d be in a heap of trouble.” Watching her shoulders slump in defeat, it was all Marc could do not to pull her in his arms and comfort her. “I’m sorry, Nylah,” he said, unconsciously addressing her by her first name. “I hope you know I would help you if I could.”

She let out a vexed-sounding breath. “I guess the only way you can help me now is to recommend the second-best daycare center in Merrillville, since Dillon is about to be thrown out of the best one.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, either. I live in Merrillville, too, but I don’t have any children.” He hoped she would find those two points of personal information he’d purposely dropped about himself interesting, even as he told himself she was much too preoccupied with her current dilemma to take much notice.

Marc knew that if he could somehow get her to the daycare before they closed, not only would he score big points with her, but she’d look at him through new eyes…He’d actually be her hero, having saved the day. Using his detective’s logic, an idea began to form. He’d make the most of this golden opportunity. The police brass wouldn’t care for it much, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

“I don’t think it’s a lost cause,” he remarked. “At least not yet.”

Once more Nylah’s eyes widened with hope. “What do you mean?”

“I’m off-duty, but I usually bring my vehicle home with me. It does have a siren.” He gave her a meaningful look.

Her eyes grew even wider. “You mean…”

Marc casually glanced at his watch. “If you’re willing to ride with me, I’ll turn on the siren. That’ll get us there on time, and of course after you get Dillon I’ll bring the two of you back here to get your car.”

She relaxed visibly. “That’s awfully generous of you, Detective. I accept.”

“I’ll do it on one condition.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And what’s that?”

 
With a smile as bright as the rays from the fading sun, he said, “That you call me Marc.”
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Love Will Grow, Coming soon!