Character Profile Ryder- Shadow Play

Character Profile Ryder- Shadow Play

His name is Ryder; he is one of only eight remaining Trackers living. But who is he?

Ryder is a fighter and the best damn Tracker on the planet. There isn’t a track he can’t take and win. He thrives on the hunt and capture. But you won’t want to run into him in a back alley because he is just as likely to walk away from you as he is to kick your ass. However, once you get past his defenses (if he lets you) you have a friend in good and bad. He never walks away from a friend. And if your lucky enough to count yourself in his inner circle then in Ryder’s eyes you are family. And he will kill for his family, making him one of the most dangerous people on the planet.

Hair Color: Brown

Eyes: Dark brown/black

Height: 6’4”

Weight: 220lbs

Left handed

Favorite food: Steak

Favorite color: Blue

Worst trait: Stubborness

Best trait: dedication to his family

What is on his playlist?

Breaking Benjamin – I Will Not Bow

Green Day – Know Your Enemy

A.F.I. – Miss Murder

Marilyn Manson – mOBSCENE

Eminem – The Way I Am

Taio Cruz – Break Your Heart

Violent Femmes – Kiss Off

Ani DiFranco – Untouchable Face

Kid Rock – American Bad Ass

Nickelback – Where Do I Hide

Nickelback – Animals

Favorite Movie?

The Godfather (Of course)

He’s not much of a reader but a good western can always catch his attention.

What is he afraid of?

Ryder’s biggest fear? Besides losing his brothers? He hates spiders. Despises them, but he would never show it. Just try and scare him with a spider, I dare you.

Little known fact, Ryder loves chocolate. Especially dark chocolate. He keeps a stash of it in his bedside table. Plus his go to bag so he always has chocolate with him.

Shadow Play

Book 1 of the Tracker Series, Book 1 of the Others
Christie Palmer

Genre: Urban Fantasy/Paranormal

Publisher: Jinx Fantasy Fiction LLC

ebook: 978-0-9885557-0-9

Paperback: 978-0-9885557-1-6

Word Count:  375

Cover Artist: Jaycee De Lorenzo of Sweet N’ Spicy Designs

Book Description:

A small town in the mountains of Marshall, Montana is being plagued by an unknown entity. It’s mutilating and killing the women of the town. At his wits end the Sheriff of Marshall has nowhere to turn but to a friend. A friend, with the abilities to track and kill any prey.

Ryder doesn’t normally do mortal issues. However, he can’t turn his back on a friend. Besides he is the best at what he does. After all he is a Tracker, an ancient race with unparalleled abilities to track down any prey. With one of the three essential elements: Taste, Touch or Smell. Heartless and cold, Ryder knows what needs to be done and performs his duty without feeling.

Kyra, an Air Element and the only female Elemental Enforcer, is sent on a fact finding mission to Marshall, by the Druid Council. She needs to find out exactly what is happening in Montana before the Tribunal goes in and kills everyone.

The last thing she expects to find is a Tracker, and is even more surprised to find out that he is on her side. But can they get past their initial feelings upon meeting and the sexual tension? Or will the evil that is living in the mountain kill them both.

Ryder and Kyra must learn to work together to destroy the shadow and save Kyra from a fate worse than death. When pure evil is involved is love enough?

Author Bio:

Christie was born and raised in a suburb of Salt Lake City, Ut. She lives less than a mile from the home she grew up in. World traveler she is not. But what she lacked in travel she more than made up for in her imagination. Within her vivid imagination she has traveled the world over as well as different worlds and different times.

She works a full time day job to pay the bills but loses herself in books and her writing whenever possible.

She is a loving mother of two wonderful children that she admits she is obsessed with. She has been married for 18 years to a very tolerant man that is grounded in reality in order for her to fly to the heights of her own imagination.

She started writing when she was a teenager after reading a book that she didn't like the ending too. Took a hiatus to raise her wonderful children but has dedicated herself to becoming a published writer for the last several years.

www.author-christiepalmer.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/christie.palmer.5011

Twitter: @christieauthor

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/11563672-christie-palmer

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Four Last Minute Holiday Ornament Decorating Ideas

Are you having a Christmas party or guests over for dinner and you feel your home isn’t decorated enough? Here are a few last minute decorating ideas that use simple holiday ornaments. They are quick and easy and make use of leftovers that didn’t make it on to your tree.

A simple way to add a little sparkle and an extra special festive feeling to your home is to gather up some ornaments and place them decoratively in a bowl, or even in large wine or even brandy glasses. Adorn your side tables, coffee table, or mantle with these pretty bowls filled with your extra ornaments.

Don’t want to place them in containers? You can also hang them in unusual places.

This pretty purple idea comes from About.com

My Home Ideas offers this simple and fast decorating solution- fill a vase full of holiday ornaments for display.

Here’s one of my favorites, it is so simple and looks so elegant. These ornaments on top of candle stick holders are so beautiful.

This one comes from Better Homes and Gardens. They also have tons of other easy and last minute decorating ideas.

This gorgeous ladder idea also comes from Better Homes and Gardens. Isn’t it festive? And if you go with the color scheme they show you it makes it a perfect holiday decoration but also a festive winter piece that could stay up past the holidays adding a little sparkle to the dreary winter days.

Release Day Blitz A Marquess for Christmas by Vivienne Westlake

A Marquess for Christmas

Vivienne Westlake

Genre: Regency, erotic romance, historical romance

Word Count: approx. 25K-30K

Cover Artist: Vivienne Westlake

ASIN: B00APCL7SW

BN ID: 2940016071008

ISBN 9781301409822

Book Description:

A proper widow. A rakish marquess. He rescued her from thieves, but will she be able to save him from himself?

 When Violet Laurens is rescued from highwaymen, the furthest thing from her mind is that her heart might tumble next. She loves her independent life, no matter her lonely bed. The handsome stranger reawakens the passion she thought buried along with her husband, pushing her to new heights of desire. But she knows it’s only a matter of time before he remembers his name and leaves her.

 The dissolute Marquess of Kittrick has vowed never to marry, causing a rift in his family that sets him on the road just in time to do battle with ruffians intent on stealing a lady’s coins—and more. Discovering the fiery wanton beneath the widow’s oh-so-proper demeanor makes him want nothing more than to forget who he is for just a bit longer. Maybe forever.

When Kit is forced to acknowledge who he is, will the truth trump their shared passion, and the love they can’t quite admit to? Or will Violet overcome her fear—and Kit his dissolute ways--and be able to lay claim to A Marquess for Christmas?

Amazon       Barnes and Noble      ARe       Smashwords

Excerpt

“He still sleeps fitfully, my lady.” Avery put his hand to the man’s head. “A little warm. We should get some ice and keep his temperature down.”

“And you have checked his bandages?” The bleeding had stopped, but the chance of infection was high. She stood by the four poster bed, looking down at her savior, who lay still and quiet, despite the people in the room.

“Yes, the wound is not healed, but neither is it as gruesome as it was yesterday.”

“And he has not awoken?”

“He tosses and murmurs and has managed the chamber pot a couple of times, but he does not speak and his eyes are glazed and unfocused.”

It had been two days since the incident. She prayed it was the laudanum keeping him so dazed and not his injury. But they could not be sure yet.

“If he does not awaken in the next day or two, we shall have to fetch Doctor Littleton. For now, let us keep him cool and make sure that someone checks on him every hour.”

Violet went to the window and opened it.  The sky was cloudy and the ground covered with a thin layer of snow. “The fresh, cool air should do him good.” She rang the bell then went back to the bed and sat down. The man’s hands felt hot under hers, but she raised them to her cheek to be sure. Definitely too warm. 

“My lady?” Miriam entered the room.

“Go and fetch some ice please. If there’s no ice, send a footman outside and gather snow. We need to keep him cool until his fever breaks.”

She leaned over to the small bedside table,  dipped a cloth into a small ceramic basin, and wrung it out. “I will see to him for a while, Avery.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

Gently, she took the cloth and wiped the man’s face, always conscious of the bandage. She hummed as she worked. It was a very old song that she’d learned as a girl. Sometimes her mother would sing it as she stitched.

“Come live with me and be my love and we will all the pleasures prove. The hill and valley, dale and field, and all the craggy mountains yield.”

She washed his arms, noting each twist and turn of muscle. She even tested it with her finger to see if it was as firm as it appeared. Nothing about him was soft-- except for his lips and the silky threads of his hair.

She brushed the towel over his neck and down to the exposed skin at the opening of his tunic. The hair there was thin and fine. She couldn’t help but stare as she swept over his chest. His nipples were wide, but tightened into little nubs when she touched them.

What would it feel like to run her palms over them? Would they react to her as they did to the damp cloth? What about her mouth?

Violet turned away and blushed. She closed her eyes and willed herself to remember him fighting off the thief and the moment when he’d taken the fateful blow. She needed to focus on her task and not on the yearnings she felt for a man she barely knew.

She might be fantasizing about a man of base morals or a man with a wife and four children. Or, what if he was a clergyman? That she doubted considering his skill with weapons and his readiness to fight, but what gentleman would watch an innocent woman get attacked by thieves and not come to her rescue?

A man does what needs must. Even a man of the cloth will take up a pistol if his life or his country demanded it. She had seen boys barely old enough to carry a gun with gaping holes in their chest and villages ravaged and burned in the war.

And this man would die like the rest, if she did not do her duty to him. He’d saved her and now she must do the same for him.

With such thoughts distracting her, she didn’t realize she’d paused her singing until she heard a low, gravelly voice.

“Sing.”

She looked down to see dark eyes watching her.

“You are awake!”

“Sing,” he repeated, but he’d barely finished the word when a ragged cough took over his body.

“A belt of straw and ivy buds, with coral clasps and amber studs, and if these pictures may thee move, come live with me and—”

“Be my love.” His voice was hoarse, even more than she expected for someone who’d slept for two days. She lifted from the bed to pour water from the pitcher into a cup.

When she lifted the cup to his lips, he coughed and it dribbled down his chin. “Easy.” They tried again, but still, most of the water ended up down his chest. His tunic absorbed the excess liquid and clung tightly to his body, so she could see every line and curve. His nipples hardened again.

“Let me try this another way,” she said. This time, she dipped her fingers into the cup and let the water drip into his mouth.

He opened wide for more. She leaned closer, her bosom near his face, and poured more water from her fingers.

After the third time, he put her two fingers to his lips and sucked them. A flash of heat shot through her limbs. If she’d been standing, she would have faltered and lost her balance.

His mouth was hot and she suspected it had little to do with his fever.

“More,” he whispered. He stared at her and she could not move, could not speak.

There was a knock behind them and that jolted her out of her frozen state. Miriam stood in the doorway with ice and more water. The man groaned.

She motioned for the maid to come in. As soon as the girl was close, Violet took a tiny chip of ice and put it in the man’s mouth.

The ice would help his thirst, but she also was afraid for him to speak. The need in his eyes was too real, too close to the desire that she felt. But he was a stranger. A beautiful, dark, bewitching stranger who had risked his life for her, yet she knew almost nothing about him.

A fact that she could remedy. No. What was she thinking? He was wounded, disoriented, and who knows if he mistook her for his wife or some mistress. A sharp pang twisted in her gut. Did he have a mistress? She’d already considered that he could be married, but she hadn’t thought about the possibility of a mistress.

He was a virile, handsome man with a body any sculptor would worship and carve into stone. She’d seen it all, every wicked inch of him. The thought of that body being pleasured by some other woman made her ill.

“Do you or the gentleman need anything else, my lady?”

“Perhaps the cook has some broth. But please make sure it is tepid, not hot.”

Miriam set down the tray of ice and curtsied before exiting the room.

He rubbed his temples, then when Miriam was gone, he turned back to her. Though he whispered the word, “Water,” his eyes said something else.

She plopped another ice sliver into his mouth. He sucked on it, watching her still. She felt a flush run down from her ears to her belly. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought his fever was catching.

A foolish part of her longed to demand if he had a mistress, but she bit her lip. That was not the first question she should ask him. And, he was so weak, it was better if he didn’t speak at all.

She put her hand to his mouth. “Do not try to speak, sir. You are weary and hoarse.”

He opened his mouth and before he could argue, she fed him another ice chip.

“You have a fever and you need to rest.”

His forehead was still warm. It could be a long night if his fever didn’t break. But he was at least alert for now, which was a good sign.

She stood up, intending to move aside the blankets and leave him with the sheet, but he reached for her arm.

“Don’t.” Under his stare, she froze again. “Do not. Leave.” Though the words were gravelly and low, it was a command, not a plea.

“Very well.”

She pulled aside the blankets, careful not to touch his thighs, and moved a chair close to the bed. The mere foot of space between her seat and the bed seemed much farther. Every little movement made her aware of the hard chair beneath her and the cool air brushing over her skin.

She missed the heat of his body next to hers.

About the Author:

Vivienne Westlake has been reading and writing romance since the age of fifteen. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature and when she’s not plotting stories about sexy heroes and sassy heroines, she’s buying a book on British history, watching the latest teen vampire show, doing an art project or singing karaoke with friends. Vivienne is an active member of Romance Writers of America, Romance Divas, and Indie Romance Ink.

http://www.viviennewestlake.com

http://www.viviennewestlake.com/blog

http://www.twitter.com/vivwestlake 

Guest blog and Giveaway with Michelle Cornwell-Jordan

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Interview with Jes Young

Please share a little about yourself, your genres, any other pen names you use. 

Hi, I’m Jes Young. Once upon a time, I thought I was going to write literary fiction, but it turns out I write urban fantasy and paranormal romance instead.

Tell us a little about your latest or upcoming release. 

In May 2012 I self-published my first book, Tab Bennett and the Inbetween. Underneath, which came out on December 1, 2012, is the next book in the series. Both books are about a woman in her mid-twenties who discovers that she is at the center of a centuries old war between the Light and Dark elvish. If you asked me to describe the difference between the two books, I’d say Inbetween is about being in a cage and breaking out of it and Underneath is about what you do when get free.

Are you a mom (or parent)? If yes do you find it hard to juggle writing and parenting?

I have a 6 year old son and a 4 year old daughter. They’re sweet, beautiful kids and I love them both dearly. That said, I have to admit there are days when I really, really, really wish they had their own apartment. Like maybe next door to mine. Or down the hall. Basically anywhere in the same building, except the apartment directly above mine, would be fine.  

Seriously though, I’ve found that juggling parenting and anything else takes effort, patience, and a sense of humor. I do the best I can. I try to be with the kids when they’re awake and focus on my writing at night after they have gone to bed. That seems to work for us. I’ll have plenty of time to sleep when I’m dead, right?

When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures? 

The TV show The Vampire Diaries is my guilty pleasure. I don’t know if it’s a good show or a bad show and to be honest, I don’t care. My love for Damon Salvatore exists outside any such petty measurements.

Which romance book or series (or other genre, if you don’t write romance) do you wish you had written? 

Those are the best books, aren’t they? The kind where you get to the end and think “God, I wish I’d written that!” Two series come immediately to mind: the Fever Series by Karen Marie Moning and the Night Huntress Series by Jeannine Frost.

Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is your favorite and why? 

Honestly, my favorite changes all the time. I’m so fickle. Sometimes it’s Tab Bennett, the series’ main character. I love her because she’s sarcastic and scared and imperfect but also honest and brave and not afraid to try. Sometimes Alexander Hilldale, the proverbial handsome prince, is my favorite. He’s just such a good guy and he really believes in Tab—especially when she doesn’t believe in herself. Right now though my favorite character is Finn Blackthorn, who’s making his first appearance in Underneath. Finn has secrets and confused loyalties and a hidden agenda that make him really fun to write. You just never know what he’s going to do.

What is next for you? Do you have any scheduled upcoming releases or works in progress? 

After Underneath, I’m probably going to wrap up the Princess of Twilight & Dawn series with Here & There in June 2013. After that, I’m either going to write a few books in the same world about some side characters or start something completely new—maybe about mermaids or Morrigans. 

What book are you reading now? 

I’m reading the Mercy Thompson series by Patricia Briggs right now. They’re great books. Mercy is such a fantastic character. I also love that I’m four books in and I still love both of the men in her life. I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before. Usually by now I am firmly in one camp or the other, but I’m finding it fun to root for both of them.

What is in your to read pile? 

At the top of the pile is Iced by Karen Marie Moning. I’m a little nervous to read it because, as I’ve already mentioned, I loved the Fever series so much. I know that’s silly. I’m going to read it soon. I swear. I’ve also got the Downside Ghosts series by Stacia Kane and Shadow’s Claim by Kresley Cole. 

Underneath

Princess of Twilight and Dawn Book Two

By Jes Young

Six months ago, when her long-hidden heritage came to light, Tab Bennett reluctantly let go of her past and embraced her future as an Elvish princess on the cusp of her gifts and the edge of her destiny. She never wanted a fairy tale life, but as the daughter of the Dark King and the Light Queen, that’s exactly what she got.

Raised in exile away from the kingdom of the Inbetween, Tab has never even met the parents who ruined her life. Her mother is dead, but Tab’s father, Daniel, is alive and well, the mad ruler of the kingdom of the Underneath. He’s made it clear he wants to meet her and now that she knows all the sadness and heartache in her life can be traced directly to the Dark king’s door, Tab wants to meet him too. After all, it's because of him that the first twenty-five years of her life were a lie. It’s his fault she gave her heart to Robbin when she should have been saving it for Alex, the prince who is destined to be her Homecoming. But, most importantly, King Daniel is the one responsible for her mother’s suicide and her sisters’ murders.

Now Tab wants justice – but she’ll settle for revenge and Finnegan Blackthorn, an Elvish warrior with secrets of his own, is going to help her get it. Together, they’ll embark on the dangerous journey to her father’s stronghold in the kingdom Underneath. Once she's there, far away from the Light in which she was raised, Tab will be forced to confront the seductive nature of Darkness and her own potential to truly become her father’s daughter.

About the Author:

After graduating from Emerson College with a BFA in creative writing, Jes Young was a copywriter at Random House (Ballantine Books and Crown Publishing Group) for nearly ten years. Currently she is the development manager of a small non-profit and the mother of two children under the age of ten. Her writing is done primarily between the hours of 11 p.m and 3 a.m.

My blog: http://www.JesYoung.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jesyoung3.tab

Twitter: @JesYoungWrites

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jesyoungwrites/

Pinpoint Excerpt

Strangeways Prison, Manchester, England (September 1994)

  

I’ve represented many murderers and am often surprised at how normal they appear. But this one is different. As he walks into the interview room he stops dead. His mouth drops open. His eyes bulge. His elbows clamp to his sides as though a knife has plunged into his back. And he looks straight at me unlike most who bow their heads till I say something to make them feel at ease, and who look past me when they tell me their stories. Not this one.

‘Please sit down,’ I say. His name is Smith. Sam Smith. This is what it says on his file cover. It’s what he called himself when he was interviewed by the police.

‘I know it seems stupid,’ I say, ‘but can I ask you to confirm your name. Your full name.’

I don’t know. I just don’t see him as a Sam Smith. Stupid name anyway. Nobody calls their kid that. Maybe I’ll know from the way he tells me. The name, when he says it himself, will either sound like it belongs or like he’s pretending. 

‘Sam Smith,’ he says, and something in the timbre of his voice gels with the curve of his lips and the way his slightly protruding eyes follow mine … 

And now he’s nodding his head. Or am I imagining it? And there’s an almost imperceptible smile on his face. That smile. And those eyes. I grip the desk. I can’t breathe. My skin turns cold, clammy. My fingers tingle. A fragment of long forgotten memory skitters through my head then vanishes …

There’s only one person I’ve ever known with eyes like those. And my darling twin brother died twenty-six years ago. Before my real life began.

Scary coincidence.

But let’s get on with it and start the job - it’s going to be a long haul, and he’s got a lot to do to beat the charge. Murder. Horrible, cold-blooded, psychopathic, sexually motivated sadism.

And I think I know him.

FRIDAY

Eight Months Later

- 1 -

The door to the jury room swung open. The seven men and five women filed in and took their seats. Julia Grant glanced at the dock. Perched behind the thick protective glass Sam Smith looked immaculate in a fresh white shirt, the blond beard newly trimmed, nothing moving except those marble-blue eyes.

She noticed that Detective Chief Superintendent Paul Moxon was already back with the small group of officers who had gathered, sitting opposite the jury benches and eyeballing the jurors throughout the trial. Old trick, hard to get the judges to move them away, to persuade them that they are engaging in deliberate psychological warfare for the jury’s votes. Paul smiled at her - a slow half smile and a slightly raised eyebrow, as if to say that for only one of them would today's verdict spell success. 

She smiled back. Defence versus Prosecution. Part of the day's work. Only this time the stakes were higher than usual. 

She looked towards the dock and saw that Sam Smith was also watching her. Their eyes met, but there was not a blink of recognition, his face so alien it was hard to imagine how the thoughts haunting her in the eight months she had been preparing his defence had ever entered her mind. Eight months studying his face across the narrow interview table for some tell-tale sign. But right now there was nothing in that face she could relate to. Nothing that even hinted at a link. Nothing that drew her to him. Good-looking men seldom delivered what their looks promised, she thought. Some unsuspecting female might be attracted until she looked into his eyes. Fish eyes. Cold and hard. Shut off from the rest of the world except for rare fleeting expressions of sadness when they seemed to drift into the past - and drag Julia with them.  

The Clerk of the Court rose to his feet. ‘Court stand,’ he blurted in his usual offhand way.

The door opened. Mr Justice Dale strode to his red leather chair, scarlet and ermine robes flowing, wig well down his forehead. He nodded to the crowded court and sat down.

Julia pressed her shoulders against the back of the solicitors’ bench. Another five minutes and it would all be over. And what then?

He might be free, but would she ever be?

The Clerk of the Court cleared his throat. ‘Will the foreman of the jury please stand.’ He looked directly at the foreman. ‘To the charge of murder, have you reached a verdict upon which all of you are agreed?’

‘Yes.’

Something made her glance at Smith again as if he’d called her name out loud. Instead of looking at the foreman, who was the person about to pronounce on the rest of his life, his gaze was fixed on her, waiting for her to turn and look at him, knowing that she would. Oh, that stare. That look. He thinks he has some power over me, she thought. Some right of claim. Men always expect to have power over women. One way or another. Even Sam Smith.

Or whoever he really was.

‘Do you find the defendant guilty, or not guilty?’ the Clerk of the Court asked in his precise, clipped voice.

Even a hardened criminal like Smith must surely feel some trepidation now. But there was not even a flicker to show he registered one iota of emotion.

Julia sat back in her seat, determined not to look at Smith again.

The hushed court waited. 

Pinpoint

Sheila Mary Taylor

Publisher: Taylor Street Books

Genre: Crime (Legal Crime Psychological Thriller)

ISBN: 1461049148
ASIN: B008G0IZ9O

Number of pages: 363
Word Count: 122,000

A lawyer, a murderer and a policeman - caught in a tangled web of love, loss, terror and intrigue.

When lawyer Julia Grant interviews Sam Smith who has been charged with an especially vicious murder, she feels a strange connection to him, as if she has met him before, as if he holds the key to something she has forgotten among the unbearable memories from her past she has determinedly blotted out.

He feels a connection too. "Julia, you are the only one who can help me," he pleads. 

Is it the same connection? Does he know something she cannot recall?

When he is duly convicted despite her best efforts, he suddenly turns on her in the courtroom and threatens that one day he will make sure to wreak his revenge on her.

But why? What has she ever done to him?

And then, on his way to prison, he escapes ......

Amazon.com  Kindle

Book Trailer http://youtu.be/R7Ou3N7hx8Q

About the Author:

Sheila Mary Taylor was born in Cape Town beneath the towering slopes of Table Mountain. Her Scottish parents, both serious academics and writers, despaired of her, as the things that turned her on as a youngster seemed far removed from their serious world of academia. 

And no wonder. Cape Town was a distracting paradise to grow up in: mountain climbing, surfing in the glistening waters of the Indian Ocean, roller-skating, riding, hunting – and parties galore. She did it all, although the thing she loved most was dancing, and until she was twenty-three when she met Colin, her husband-to-be, on a visit to the UK, she wanted to make ballet her career. But having been surrounded by wall-to-wall books from an early age, and listening to music almost non-stop as her father played his hi-fi classical records so loud it was like having an orchestra in the house, was bound to have a belated influence on her. Yet it was only much later that these two strong influences – combined with the clock-ticking heartbreak of her youngest son Andrew being diagnosed with teenage cancer – would change her life and kick-start her writing career.  

Her plethora of unusual activities:  jockey in amateur ladies’ races, exhibition roller skating in night-clubs, a spell of acting and directing, secretary to a diplomat, creator and editor of a dramatic society magazine, dancing in the Royal Albert Hall, and above all, living in exciting exotic places around the world with Colin, her mining engineer husband of almost sixty incredible years – have all enriched and inspired her writing.

http://sheilamarytaylorauthor.blogspot.com/

http://sellyourstoryuk.com/2012/10/01/sheila-mary-taylor/ 

Twitter: @AuthorSMBelshaw

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sheila.belshaw 

LinkedIn: Sheila Belshaw

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