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Emily's Blog

3

Happy Halloween! Enjoy it with an interview with Renee Pawlish

Well, loyal readers, first HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Be safe but please have fun. All things in moderation, (including moderation). Not only is today Halloween but it’s also the last day in the series of A Crime Collection interviews we’ve been having all week. Last, but certainly not least, I’m proud to welcome Renee Pawlish on the site. Master Wordsmith Renee is the award-winning author of the bestselling horror book Nephilim Genesis of Evil, the first novel in the Nephilim trilogy, the Reed Ferguson mystery series (This Doesn’t Happen In The Movies, Reel Estate Rip-off,The Maltese Felon) and the short story Elvis And The Sports Card Cheat, Take Five, a short story collection, the Noah Winters kids adventure series (The Emerald Quest), and The Sallie House: Exposing the Beast Within, a non-fiction account of a haunted house investigation in Kansas. She lives in Colorado and can be reached on her Website. You can find her books on Amazon, and follow her Blog as well.

 

portrait

Welcome Renee!  So, what draws you to your style of mystery?

I love mysteries and I like to laugh and joke around, so it’s natural for me to have a private eye who wisecracks throughout the stories. And I enjoy taking the readers on a journey to discover who the bad guy is. This series has been a lot of fun to write.
While you write in the cozy style, are there other sub genre’s of mystery you love to read but just don’t write? Is that because you have not gotten to it yet or is there another reason?
I’m not a big fan of romance, so I don’t have a lot of that in my stories. I am mulling over a new series that will be more action/adventure/spy story. I enjoy reading spy stories and I’d like to dabble in that more. I’ve got the name of the main character but I’m not sure what his back story is yet. It’ll be fun to develop.
What made you want to join in this box set?
I thought it would be fun to get a group together and explore difference types of stories, from the more violent to the fun and humorous. I think we have a nice mix in this set.
What do you do when you get stuck?
I walk or hike, or I journal about the story. Every time I do that, it clears my head and I’m able to see where the story needs to go.
Any weird “practices” that help keep you going?
Not really. I find that I squeeze writing in whenever and wherever I can. I do like sitting in my office with all my books around me and this feels nice, but it’s not a practice I have to do in order to write.
My series centers around Sydney Rye and her amazing dog, Blue. Do you have a Blue in your life? If so, can we see a picture? If not, how do you get warm fuzzy feelings?
I have two cats, Hugo and Harley. They are shelter cats and they had to be adopted together because the shelter felt they were so close to each other that it would be detrimental to separate them. And the shelter was so right! I’ve never seen two cats love each other so much. They hang around together and are almost always around me. And they are both very affectionate with me. Things can be going horribly wrong but those two will make it all right.

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Hugo and Harley

Can we get a taste of your work? How about a short excerpt?
This is from This Doesn’t Happen In The Movies

“I want you to find my dead husband.”
“Excuse me?”  That was my first reaction.
“I want you to find my husband.  He’s dead, and I need to know where he is.”  She spoke in a voice one sexy note below middle C.
“Uh-huh.”  That was my second reaction.  Really slick.
Moments before, when I saw her standing in the outer room, waiting to come into my office, I had the feeling she’d be trouble. And now, with that intro, I knew it.
“He’s dead, and I need you to find him.”  If she wasn’t tired of the repetition, I was, but I couldn’t seem to get my mouth working. She sat in the cushy black leather chair on the other side of my desk, exhaling money with every sultry breath.  She had beautiful blond hair with just a hint of darker color at the roots, blue eyes like a cold mountain lake, and a smile that would slay Adonis.  I’d like to say that a beautiful woman couldn’t influence me by her beauty alone.  I’d like to say it, but I can’t.
“Why didn’t you come see me yesterday?” I asked.  Her eyes widened in surprise.  This detective misses nothing, I thought, mentally patting myself on the back.  She didn’t know that I’d definitely noticed her yesterday eating at a deli across the street.  I had been staring out the window, and there she was.
The shoulders of her red designer jacket went up a half-inch and back down, then her full lips curled into the trace of a smile.  “I came here to see you, but you were leaving for lunch.  I followed you, and then I lost my nerve.”
“I see you’ve regained it.”  I’ve never been one to place too much importance on my looks, but I suddenly wished I could run a comb through my hair, put on a nicer shirt, and splash on a little cologne.  And change my eye color – hazel – boring.  It sounded like someone’s old, spinster aunt, not an eye color.
She nodded.  “Yes.  I have to find out about my husband.  He’s dead, I know it.  I just know it.”  Her tone swayed as if in a cool breeze, with no hint of the desperation that should’ve been carried in the words.
“But he’s also missing,” I said in a tone bordering on flippant, as I leaned forward to unlock the desk drawer where I kept spare change, paper clips, and my favorite gold pen.  Maybe writing things down would help me concentrate.  But I caught a whiff of something elegant coming from her direction, and the key I was holding missed the lock by a good two inches.  I hoped she didn’t see my blunder.  I felt my face getting warm and assumed my cheeks were turning crimson.  I hoped she didn’t see that either.
Perhaps I was being too glib because she glanced back toward the door as if she had mistaken my office for another.  “This is the Ferguson Detective Agency?  You are Reed Ferguson?”
“It is and I am.”  I smiled in my most assured manner, then immediately questioned what I was doing.  This woman was making no sense and here I was, flirting with her like a high-school jock.  I glanced behind her at the framed movie poster from the The Big Sleep, starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.  It was one of my favorites, and I hung the poster in my office as a sort of inspiration.  I wanted to be as cool as Bogie.  I wondered what he would do right now.
She puckered pink lips at me.  “I need your help.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”  Now I sounded cocky.
The pucker turned into a fully developed frown.  “I’m very serious, Mr. Ferguson.”
“Reed.”  I furrowed my brow and looked at my potential first client with as serious an expression as I could muster.  I noticed for the first time that she applied her makeup a bit heavy, in an attempt to cover blemishes.
“Reed,” she said.  “Let me explain.”  Now we were getting somewhere.  I found the gold pen, popped the top off it and scrounged around another drawer for a notepad.  “My name is Amanda Ghering.”  She spoke in an even tone, bland, like she was reading a grocery list.  “My husband, Peter, left on a business trip three weeks ago yesterday.  He was supposed to return on Monday, but he didn’t.”
Today was Thursday.  I wondered what she’d been doing since Monday.  “Did you report this to the police?”
She raised a hand to stop me.  “Please.  I already have and they gave me the standard response, ‘Give it some time, he’ll show up.’”
That one puzzled me.  The police wouldn’t file a missing persons case for twenty-four hours, but after that, I was certain they would do something more.  “They didn’t do anything?”
“They asked me some questions, said they would make a few calls to the airlines.”  Amanda paused.  “They were more concerned about my relationship with Peter,” she said, gazing out the window behind me.  The only thing she would see was an incredible view of a renovated warehouse across the street.  For a brief moment, her face was flushed in as deep a sadness as I’d ever seen.  Then it was gone, replaced by a foggy look when she turned back to me.  “You see, Peter wasn’t exactly what you’d call a faithful husband.” She frowned, creating wrinkles on an otherwise perfect face.  “Well, that’s not completely true.  He was faithful, to his libido at least.  But not to our marriage.”  I paraphrased the last couple of sentences on the notepad.  “He travels quite a bit with his company, computer consulting, so he has ample opportunity to dally.  And he never tries hard to conceal what he’s doing.”
“Did you tell the police all of this?”
“Yes.  I believe that’s why they’re not doing that much.  That, and the fact that there appears to be no foul play, has kept them from doing little more than paperwork.”
“You’re afraid they’re not treating his disappearance seriously.”
“Exactly.”
I scratched my chin with the pen.  “I’d have to disagree with you about that.”  I didn’t have much experience – okay I didn’t have any experience – but in the tons of detective books I’d read and all the movies I’d seen the police would take someone of Amanda’s obvious wealth with some concern.  At least until she gave them a reason not to.
“They don’t have the resources to track him down,” she countered.  “That’s left up to me, which is what I’m here to do.”
“And this way you also keep any nasty details private.”
“Exactly.”
“Why come to me?”
Amanda glanced around the sparsely furnished office and the stark white walls decorated with noting more than movie posters, as if she were second-guessing her choice of detectives.  “You came recommended.  I know you’re not licensed but…”
“You don’t have to be in the state of Colorado,” I interrupted.  Anyone who wanted to could be a detective here, just hang up a sign.  Hell, you didn’t even need a gun.  I could testify to that.  Never had one, never shot one.
She waved a hand at me.  “I don’t care if you’re licensed or not.  I know your background.  You come from a well-to-do family; you know when to be discreet.”
I came recommended.  Now that caught my curiosity.  The only thing I’d done was to help a wealthy friend of my father track down an old business partner.  It was slightly dangerous but not noteworthy, and at the time I didn’t have an office or a business.  I had been between jobs, so I decided to pursue an old dream.  I hung up a shingle to try my hand at detecting.  I loved old detective novels, had read everything from Rex Stout and Dashiell Hammett to Raymond Chandler and James M. Cain.  I’d watched Humphrey Bogart, William Powell, and all the classic film noir movies.  I pictured myself just like those great detectives.  Well, maybe not.  But I was going to try.
“Who recommended me?” I asked.  The list was surely small.
“A friend at my club.”
“Really?  Who?”
“Paul Burrows.  Do you know him?”
I shook my head.  “Does he know my father?”  I assumed he was someone who’d heard about me helping my father’s friend.
“I don’t know, but Paul said you were good, and that you could use the work.”
She was right about that.  I lived comfortably off an inheritance from my obscenely rich grandparents, plus some smart investments I’d made over the years, so I’d never had a real career.  I had always wanted to work in law enforcement, but my parents had talked me out of that.  Instead, I got a law degree, flitted from job to job, and disappointed my father because I never stuck with anything.  I hoped being a detective would change all that; it was something I’d always wanted to do, but my father still thought I was playing around.  I needed to solve a real case to prove him wrong.
“Are you a fan of old movies?” Amanda asked, noticing the posters for the first time.
I nodded.  “I like old movies, but especially detective film noir.”
“Film noir?”
I pointed to a different poster on another wall of The Maltese Falcon, one of Bogie’s most famous movies.  “Movies with hard-boiled detectives, dark themes, and dark characters.”
“And dark women?” Amanda said.
I kept a straight face as I gazed at Lauren Bacall.  “Yeah, that too.”
“I hope you’re as good as Sam Spade,” Amanda said.
I watched her cross one shapely leg over the other, her red wool skirt edging up her thigh.  Trouble.  Just like I’d thought before. I should have run out of my own office, but I didn’t.  I know what you’re thinking, it’s her beauty.  No, it was what she said next that complicated things immensely.
“I’m prepared to pay whatever it takes.”  Saying that, she pulled a stack of bills from her purse.  I crossed my arms and contemplated her.  This sounded like I’d just be chasing after a philandering husband.  Not exciting at all, even though I had little basis for making that assumption, other than what I’d read in books.  But a voice inside my head said that making money meant it was a real job, right?

I named my daily wage, plus expenses.  It was top dollar, but she didn’t blink.  And I had my first real case.  What would my father say to that?

And check out Renee’s site for her interview with Betta Ferrendelli

and today see my interview on Simon Jenner’s site.

A Crime Collection

Five first-in-a-series mystery novels by up-and-coming authors Betta Ferrendelli, R.S. Guthrie, Simon Jenner, Emily Kimelman and Renée Pawlish. These spellbinding stories, filled with twists and turns, murder, intrigue and suspense with captivating and unforgettable characters, have been reviewed more than 1,600 times and have earned more than 750 five-star reviews.

Marketing Graphics 16

a Rafflecopter giveaway

3

An Interview with Betta Ferrendelli

For day three of the A Crime Collection Extravaganza, please give a welcome to Betta Ferrendelli! Betta is the author of the Samantha Church Mystery Series, where she drew on her years as an award winning journalist for inspiration for Samantha’s adventures.  Check out her Website, Facebook, Twitter, and purchase her books on Amazon.

 

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Welcome Betta!  First, and always what draws you to your style of mystery? One of my favorite authors has always been Patricia Cornwell, especially when she first started writing the Kay Scarpetta series. Though I don’t read her much anymore, her early books were the best. I liked the story lines, Post Mortem, Body of Evidence, Point of Origin, etc., were all really well written books with good story lines. Her writing to me has always been superb.

While you write in the Cozy style are there other sub genre’s of mystery you love to read but just don’t write? Is that because you have not gotten to it yet or is there another reason? Mainly just haven’t gotten to it yet — there’s always something else to do first!
What made you want to join in this box set? I wanted to be part of the exposure with the other authors.
What do you do when you get stuck? I just keep writing. It is always a lot easier to edit when you have something on paper than to keep staring at a blank screen. Sometimes it may not seem like the words are coming or that they’re very good, but once you have something down on paper and you go back and reread what you’ve written, more often than not, you find there’s more there than you expected and the writing is good. Plus, my background is newspapers and that always means at some point you’re going to be writing on deadline and you have to produce.
Any weird “practices” that help keep you going? Not really. It helps to love writing. It is just something I have to do.
My series centers around Sydney Rye and her amazing dog, Blue. Do you have a Blue in your life? If so, can we see a picture? If not, how do you get warm fuzzy feelings? My mother was not an animal person, so we didn’t have pets growing up, so for the most part, it’s all in what you get used to. We did, however, have one dog for about six months. His name was Roman and he was a German Shorthaired Pointer. I have a nice memory of Roman. We had just gotten him. I was about 10 years old and my younger brother and I took him for a walk, but we didn’t have a leash. It didn’t matter, Roman walked beside us, and never left our sides the entire time. We’d say “This way, Roman.” And he would just follow us.
Can we get a taste of your work? How about a short excerpt?:

“He opened the car door and Jingle Bells spilled out from the radio, filling the night air with holiday spirit until he cut the engine. The Lexus groaned and settled as the couple collected their packages and got out of the car.

Wrapped in coats and scarves, they followed their breath toward a high-rise of condominiums, their footsteps crunching over freshly fallen snow. Light from the near-full moon honed the distant tall trees into black skeletons, but the couple, laughing and caught up in a festive mood, did not notice. They were still singing. “Oh, what fun it is to ride …”

“Roger! Hush!” Marj said in a loud whisper. “You’ll wake the entire complex.”

A scream came from somewhere above them, its shrillness cutting through air thick with the smell of burning wood. Before they had a chance to look up something clipped her arms with enough force to knock the packages to the ground. “Oh my God!” she gasped. “What on earth was that?”

Roger dropped his packages, grabbed his wife’s arm and pulled her close. She could see his eyes darting back and forth, quickly assessing their situation. His easy disposition changed instantly, reminding her that his years of military training would always be part of their civilian lives. She felt him push her closer to their building. “Stay here,” he said.”

And check out Betta interviewing Simon Jenner on her site

and I’m visiting R.S. Guthrie today, so come by!

A Crime Collection

Five first-in-a-series mystery novels by up-and-coming authors Betta Ferrendelli, R.S. Guthrie, Simon Jenner, Emily Kimelman and Renée Pawlish. These spellbinding stories, filled with twists and turns, murder, intrigue and suspense with captivating and unforgettable characters, have been reviewed more than 1,600 times and have earned more than 750 five-star reviews.

Marketing Graphics 16

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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