Busy with Edits ~ Raine Rochelle

 

Hello there. I’m still busy with edits for Heartstrings, the first book in the Johnsons of Junova series.

Developing Tyler Johnson’s character has been real fun, and I’d personally love to meet the guy in person!  Not only is he gorgeous, he’s also very kind and caring. Being human, though, he does have his flaws. His confident and happy-go-lucky attitude allows me to add a little humor to his personality, but it can be a little misplaced if he’s not careful. Here’s an excerpt which I hope shows more of his character, as his kiss with Sasha is rudely interrupted by another man…

 

Sasha tore away from the kiss and spun her head round to see a familiar face staring back at her. Her heart sank.

“Vincent? What are you doing here?”

It wasn’t the man she used to know at all. Not in appearance, anyway. Nor demeanor. The Vincent Jennings who she’d dated for two years before he’d dumped her wore expensive clothes, had expensive haircuts and always smelled of expensive after-shave. This guy looked—and smelled—like he was living on the streets.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he growled back.

He didn’t look as angry as she’d first thought, more… horrified. He didn’t have the confidence of the guy she remembered, and seemed confused and hurt. Something must have gone terribly wrong in his life for him to end up like this. But it made no sense that he’d suddenly show up in Brightside.

“I live here,” she replied, aware of the other customers going quiet as they listened to their conversation. “I moved out here a couple of years ago, after we broke up.”

“You left me?” His saggy, red eyes now looked wide with devastation.

She shook her head. “No, you left me, if you recall? For that other girl. Lacey, wasn’t it?”

His face clouded over as he was clearly trying to compute what she was saying.

“You know this guy?” Tyler asked, clearly bemused.

She nodded. “This is my ex, Vincent Jennings. He’s from Sundown.” She turned back to the guy standing in front of them. “Vincent, this is Tyler Johnson, my boyfriend.”

Vincent’s jaw dropped. “Your boyfriend?”

“That’s right, buddy,” Tyler stood up, towering over the other man. “So what brings you to Brightside?”

As if his height wasn’t intimidating enough, Tyler stared at the guy, who appeared to be trying to take it all in. Tyler put his hands on his hips during the few minutes of silence that passed before saying, “I believe I asked you a question.”

Vincent frowned. “I was looking for Sasha. She’s my girl.”

Tyler snorted. “Not any more she ain’t, buddy. She’s mine now. So why don’t you take your bag full of mixed-up memories and leave us alone? You have no business here.”

Sasha put her hand to her mouth. She certainly hadn’t expected that sort of reaction from him. “Tyler… I think…”

He turned back to her, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You want him around here?”

“Well… no… but…”

“You heard the lady,” Tyler said, facing Vincent again. “She doesn’t want you here. Now I suggest you…”

“I suggest you mind your own damn business,” Vincent snapped. “This is nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, I’d say it’s got everything to do with me when you’re here to stir up trouble for my girl.” Tyler spoke through gritted teeth. “Now, are you gonna go or do I have to call the sheriff?”

“No need, Tyler.” Doug Sandler’s voice could be heard as he made his way through the crowd that had gathered to watch the spectacle. “I was here anyhow.”

“Great.” Tyler gave a satisfied smirk which shocked Sasha to the core. He folded his arms, staring at Vincent.

“You new in town, son?” the sheriff asked, eying Vincent curiously. “I don’t reckon I’ve seen you before.”

Vincent looked panic-stricken and Sasha’s heart went out to him. He nodded silently.

“Sheriff, this is Vincent Jennings. He’s from Sundown. We went out together a few years ago. I think he came to see me,” she offered.

“You invited him here?” Doug asked with a frown.

“No. We haven’t been in touch for years. But he wasn’t causing any trouble. We were just talking.”

The sheriff raised his eyebrows, then turned back to Vincent. “You got some ID on you, son?”

Vincent frowned. “No.”

“Any money?”

Vincent shook his head slowly.

“Then how were you planning to get back to Sundown?”

Vincent shrugged.

“You’ve been drinking, and you’ve got nowhere to go for the night. I think it’s best you come with me, son.” Doug immediately cuffed him, much to Vincent’s dismay.

“Sheriff, I don’t think you need to do that.” Sasha was appalled, her heart thumping hard.

“Anyone who’s been drinking is unpredictable,” Doug told her, firmly. “I’m not taking any chances. He’ll be safer in the cell than on the streets in that state. We can sort out the whys and wherefores in the morning.” With that he led Vincent through the bar to where his car was waiting outside.

Sasha sat down, her mind whirling.

“That was your ex?” Tyler sat next to her, chuckling. “Well, I have to say, I’m glad your taste in men’s changed. The guy’s a wreck.”

Sasha bristled. “He wasn’t like that back then.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it, darlin’. You had me worried for second there.” He grinned, shaking his head as he reached for his beer.

“I’m going home.” Sasha picked up her purse and stood up.

Tyler shot to his feet, staring at her. “What? Why?”

“If you don’t know, then you’re definitely not the man I thought you were, Tyler Johnson.” Her lips were tight as she spoke. “In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if I really know you at all.”

She took a step but he rounded on her.

“Now, look, darlin’, I don’t know what I’ve done wrong here, but we can’t sort it out unless we talk about it, can we? Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you another drink? Then you can tell me what’s on your mind?” His voice was calm and more than a little patronizing to her ears.

“No, thank you. I’d rather go home. Alone. Now, if you’ll please move out of my way, it would be good not to cause another scene around here. I think these good folks have had enough drama for one night, don’t you?” She took the opportunity to take a step past him as he gawped in surprise.

 

It’s never all plain sailing in the Johnson household, but you’ll have to read the book to see how Tyler gets out of that one! I’m hoping to release it around Christmas time if I possibly can. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of the series in the meantime.

Take care,

Raine

Don’t forget that The Billionaires of Brightside Ranch series is currently FREE in Kindle Unlimited

Editing…A Necessary Evil! ~ Lorraine Nelson

 

Today's emphasis, as the title suggests, is about editing. I know, I know. You've written your book. You've edited it yourself. You might even have had a few friends suggest changes or comment on how well it's done. However, none of this takes the place of professional editing.

You look forward to publishing your book and building a reader base. Right? You might even be wondering how you're going to compete with all the other books and authors out there. Well then, you need to edit, proofread, and edit again and again until you get it right. Guaranteed that if I purchase a book riddled with grammar issues and/or typos and such, I will not buy that author's work again and I will not leave a review anywhere. Many books I’ve read have great characters and plot lines but poor grammar can leave you feeling cheated and, in most cases, I feel sorry for the author. Yet, I hate to think of the ridicule they face when those mistakes are pointed out to them publicly (And yes, there are reviewers who will leave derogatory remarks on your book page.) One or two typos I can handle, but consistent errors pull me right out of the story line. I just cannot turn off my inner editor. 😊

Authors, be proud of your work. You only get one chance to make a first impression. Make it a good one by releasing the best product you can possibly deliver. If your English (or whatever language you write in) is not up to par, hire somebody else to give it a go. In the end, it’s well worth it.

With today's self-publishing industry, everyone can make their dreams come true, but make sure your book is as perfect as you can make it. You have a story to share and the words with which to tell it.

Don't let grammar mistakes and typos hold you back from the bestseller list. In fact, I feel so strongly about this that I’m willing to edit one chapter free for one of the commenters on this post.

Please feel free to post questions or comments and I’ll do my best to answer.

Lorraine

THE DREADED RED PENCIL

Thanks for joining me on my very first Cowboy Kisses blog post.  I’m dying to know what everyone likes to read about here.  In writer’s Facebook groups, new authors often ask if they need to hire an editor and have their work edited before they self-publish their book.  This question makes me cringe.  No matter how experienced a writer is, or how many books to their credit, a writer’s words will always be improved by a round of good editing.  The key being “good” editing.  Which is a topic for another day.  (Over the years I’ve had some dreadful copyright editors whom I’ve refused to work with)

Lately I’ve had an interesting experience in the world of edits.  I’ve been comparing, line by line, the final version of my accepted manuscript to the traditionally published book.  At the time of publishing I accepted those changes because they improved my work.  Years later, I am a bit shocked at the visual proof my over-wordiness.  Plus I see all my bad habits corrected. 

I consider myself a lean and clean writer, which is clearly not always the case because, like all writers, I love words.  I am also deeply dismayed when I find a typo that was missed by not only me, but an entire team of editors, copy editors and proofreaders at a New York publishing house.

If, while reading a published book, you come across one or two typos forgive us; we are human.  If, however, the book is riddled with errors, that author didn’t take the appropriate time and care, which makes me not want to invest the time to read it. 

How do you feel?  Are you bothered by multiple errors and typos in published books? Or are you so immersed in the story they don’t matter?

Lately I’ve been working on a series of sweet western historicals,  Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, yet I couldn’t resist mixing things up with a very steamy contemporary western, UNTAMED.  After all, variety is the spice of life.  And thanks to the electronic book world, readers have more choices than ever before.

         
Taking a chance in the new Wild West.  The chance to be someone else.  The chance to be with him.

“Imagine Nancy Drew meets Sex in the City.”  Roundtable Reviews.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B083CXQW84

See you next month!   

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The Final Stages Of Writing A Book

By Kristy McCaffrey

Last week, I was in the home stretch of editing my manuscript The Blackbird. I’d spent months writing, researching, and rewriting the story, then I sent it off to the editor. As is usual when a manuscript is returned, there were many comments and suggestions, with the bulk being fairly minor concerns. (Along with those pesky grammar issues—it seems I still don’t know how to punctuate a compound verb. Yes, we authors are always learning something new when it comes to writing skills.)

There was a bigger issue, however, in the work. The heroine and her father had a rather volatile, and, the editor felt, unforgivable, aspect to their relationship. And while she loved the hero and his role in the tale, the heroine’s actions gave her pause. I appreciated the input because sometimes the writer is simply too immersed in the work to really see the bigger picture. But I had to consider carefully how I wanted to handle any modifications since anything I changed would ripple throughout the story.

It’s always good to sleep on it before making any knee-jerk decisions. And as I’ve done many times in the past when faced with a crossroads in my work, I hoped for a bit of inspiration. I can say with confidence that 95% of the time, no magical guidance ever arrives. As an author, I’m always forced to simply make a choice about which way to go in the story. But, this time, I did receive guidance.

I’d been reading a book called Eyes of the Wild: Journeys of Transformation with the Animal Powers by Eleanor O’Hanlon. Ms. O’Hanlon is a field researcher for international conservation groups and shares her travels and experiences with animals, beginning with whales, but also including wolves, bears, and horses. That night, I read a section where she recounted the tale of Sedna, a creative power to the people of the Arctic basin.

Sedna lived with her father in a tent made of reindeer skin. Together, they followed the herds across the great tundra plain. Before her mother died, she taught Sedna many things, such how to make clothing using finely carved needles from the bones of birds and how our own bodies are only clothes that we wear for a short time, when we journey from other worlds.

Sedna grew to be a beautiful young woman. One day, a handsome stranger appeared, and he was so vivid and compelling that she decided to marry him. Her father tried to advise against it, but Sedna wouldn’t listen. She left with the man, his hair the color of a raven. Once they were alone, she came to know that he truly was a raven. In fear, she fled and called out to her father, who came to her in his boat.

As Sedna and her father attempted to leave, a great storm came upon them, and the boat began to sink. Frantic with fear, the father threw Sedna overboard in an effort to save himself. As she clung to the side, he cut her fingers one by one until she sank to the bottom. In death, she met her mother and entered a light filled with all the love she thought she’d lost.

Photo courtesy of mrpsmythopedia.wikispaces.com

Back on the surface, her father was lost in grief over what he’d done. As Sedna tried to reach him, her fingers grew back, creating the beluga whales, and the orcas, and the narwhals. All the whales sprung forth from Sedna—the grays, the humpbacks, the blues, the fins, and the bowheads. As the whale song reached Sedna’s father, he at last found peace in the grace of the giant beasts.

I had the answer for my story. I needed to redeem my heroine’s father, and once I did this, then her forgiveness would ring with far more truth. I was glad to dig a little deeper into the narrative, to find something more authentic than was previously present.

As an aside, I also decided to change a character’s name during my final proof of the story. I had an Apache woman named Bly and an old teamster called Vern Blight. Bly and Blight were so similar that I was getting confused in my last read-through. So, I did a search, and replaced ‘Bly’ with ‘Smita’. This proved to be a huge nuisance because Microsoft Word replaced other words that contained ‘bly’. ‘Possibly’ became ‘possiSmita’. ‘Understandably’ became ‘understandaSmita’. I simply couldn’t search for all the permutations, so I had to proof the entire manuscript one more time. Ack! I found many—presumaSmita, incrediSmita, and, my favorite, scramSmita.

But, I did it. The Blackbird is finished and available in digital formats. I hope you’ll check it out.

Kindle | Smashwords

(It will be available at Nook, iTunes and Kobo within a few days.)

For two years, Tess Carlisle has tried to heal the mental and physical wounds of a deadly assault by one of her papá’s men, but with no contact from Hank Carlisle since the attack, she’s determined to track him down. Her only hope is bounty hunter Cale Walker, a protégé of Hank’s and a man unlike any she has ever known. As he teaches her strength not just in body but spirit, he also makes her yearn for something she vowed she never would—love. (Rating: Steamy)

Excerpt from The Blackbird

A bit of inquiry led him (Cale) to a hovel with a dirt floor and an underlying stench of sweaty bodies. It was late afternoon, but there were already many customers, mostly Mexicanos, and they eyed him warily. He ordered a bourbon and downed whatever rotgut had been substituted in one swallow, not of a mind to argue with the man serving as a barkeep behind the wooden plank.

Cale took in the lay of the room, welcoming the distraction after spending so much time with Tess. Her emotional distance, while he understood it, irritated him.

And the fact that it bothered him only annoyed him more.

He didn't need to befriend her to find Hank. He knew that. And damn it, he could be unfeeling and detached, too.

Cale set down his glass and the barkeep refilled it. Emptying it, Cale continued this routine as Tess plagued his thoughts. The twinge of attraction that gnawed at him like a coyote chewing off his foot to escape a snare made him want to save her and run from her at the same time.

After playing cards and downing more liquor than he should've, he learned of a fella who might have a lead to Worthington. In complete darkness, he managed to find the man's adobe home near the edge of town. Just as he approached, the distinctive sound of a cane hitting the dirt echoed behind him. He spun around.

“What are doing here?” he asked Tess.

She stopped before him, out-of-breath. “Trying to find you.” Her exasperated tone and narrowed eyes clearly showed her condemnation, and he felt like a school boy caught by his teacher. He stepped back before she smelled the liquor on his breath, but it was too late.

“Are you drunk?”

She moved toward him and he could smell rose oil. Damn, she smells nice. Even in the inky night, he could see the flash of anger in her eyes. He liked it. And he found it difficult to ignore the appeal of her scent, the lush curve of her mouth, the smoothness of her skin, leading from her face to her neck to...

“Just a little,” he conceded.

“Whatever on earth for?”

“It's tough for a man traveling with a woman.”

That caused her to freeze.

Damn again. He shouldn't have said that.

“Look Tess, I didn't mean it that way. It's just been a long few days.”

She stepped back and he tried not to notice how enticing her hair looked, unbound and flowing over her shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, nodding toward the dwelling.

“Following a lead on Hank.”

“Then, I'll help you.”

Cale didn't know what else to say, so he nodded. He walked to the door and knocked.

An elderly Mexican answered.

“Are you Juan?”

“Sí.”

“My name is Cale Walker, and this is Tess Carlisle.”

At that, the man peered more closely at Tess. “You Hank's girl?”

The man and Tess began conversing in Spanish. Short and wiry, gray hair sprinkled Juan’s dark hair, and deep wrinkles fanned the sides of his eyes.

“Translate please,” Cale said under his breath to Tess.

“He can show us where Henry Worthington was several months ago, in the hills to the east. Maybe Hank is with him. Juan isn’t certain.”

After more discussion, she said, “He doesn’t want money. He said Hank did a favor for him once, so he will repay his daughter. We’re to meet at the livery tomorrow morning at seven o’clock sharp.”

Juan interjected something in his native tongue.

“He says we’d better make it eight thirty,” Tess added. “You’re going to need to sleep that off.”

“I'm not drunk.”

Tess gave Cale a look that said she didn’t believe him. She shook Juan’s hand. “Gracias.”

She turned and began walking away, the cane at her side and her checkered skirt undulating around her.

Cale nodded to Juan and ran a bit to catch up to her, swaying from a bout of dizziness. “Wait for me, Tess.”

She paused. “Maybe I should let you borrow my cane.”

“No, I'll be fine. I just don't want you walking alone.”

“I came here alone.”

He fell into step beside her, focusing diligently on walking straight. “You really don't make friends easily, do you?”

“I didn't know it was important to you that we be friends.”

“Well, I don't like it when we're not getting along.”

“We've only known each other a few days, Señor Walker.”

“Now hold on.” Was he slurring his words? He couldn't be sure. “You need to call me Cale.”

“Because you call me Tess?”

“I'm supposed to call you Miss Carlisle?”

“That would be proper, wouldn't it?”

Cale laughed. “But you and I are practically related because of Hank.”

Tess stopped. “So, you see yourself as my brother?”

Hell no.

At least he had enough sense not to blurt that out.

He'd definitely had too much to drink. This rarely happened to him. He imbibed at times, but always within his boundaries.

In a flash, a hunger for this woman coursed through him. Unable to tear his gaze from hers, he wanted to set this boundary clearly. “I'm not your brother, Tess.”

Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to speak. Her momentary hesitation was all it took for Cale to know that she wasn’t immune to what was happening between them.

She knew he wanted her.

Copyright © 2015 K. McCaffrey LLC