Interview Frederick L. Malphurs Author of Dr. Fox
Give a warm welcome to Frederick L. Malphurs, author of A Year in the Life of Dr. Fox.
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Frederick L. Malphurs and his book A Year In the Life of Dr. Fox.
What defines you as an author? As a person? Are they one in the same? I am interested in nearly everything: people, places, situations, issues. Probably the same thing that defines me as an author is true of me as a person.
What inspired this particular story? As a child I watched the Disney television series, later as an adult, in El Fuerte, Mexico, in the hotel courtyard there was a nearly full size statue of Zorro which instantly rekindled my interest in Zorro and in writing a novel on same which as the original Zorro is trademarked protected, the story had to move away from the television and movie Zorro and it did.
What secret do you use to blast through writer’s block? I am lucky in that I have not experienced writer’s block, at least as I understand it. I am more on the opposite side, writing away on stuff that will need to be heavily edited or placed in a deep pending file.
Who is your favorite character of all of the books you’ve written and Why? Meanie Mouse. We need a woman superhero who isn’t bulletproof and uses her intellect and personal sense of right and wrong to at least try to make things right.
What inspired you to write? A lot of reading, probably, and then something popped inside my head.
How long have you been writing? In my first career as a health care manager and then executive, I wrote a lot of business related stuff: memos, case studies, investigations, reports, etc. But, that job was so demanding, I had little time to write fiction, I would start, have to stop, and months might go by before I got back to it.
Did you tell friends and family that you were writing a book? Or did it take a while to come out and tell friends and family you were a writer? I was totally open about it.
Do you see yourself in your characters? Yes, health care management and a mostly disfunctional family life while growing up gave me a lot of characters, a daily view of behavioral health issues, the variation of the human experience and intellect, etc. which I realized was a rich source of material for writing.
What do you want your readers to take away from your books? That reading my books was worth the experience. Then maybe, some reflection on what things are as they are and how society could be improved.
Where do your story ideas come from? If they come to you in the middle of the night, do you get up and write them all down? From my life experiences, my dreams are mostly about missed airplane connections, late to meetings, and that sort of thing. Many years ago, I tried to wake up and write down ideas that occurred to me in the middle of the night. Those notes invariably were jibberish, which I suppose is a sign of the state of my mind during the night.
If writing is your first passion, what is your second? Physical fitness. After a lifetime of work which involved multiple meetings on a daily basis, raising a family, and running for airplanes, physical fitness did not get done, so now I go to the gym four or five times a week, most of the time.What do you like to do when you are not writing? Reading, some travel, watching major sports events such as Gator football and basketball games, the Masters, the Superbowl, etc.
You’ve got a time machine, a cloak of invisibility, and one hour. Where would you go, and what eavesdropping would you do? I would go to the White House, any President, wander around, and most importantly try to listen to every word.
A Peek Between the Page of A Year in the Life of Dr. Fox.
An Untimely Arrest, January 5
Father Teodoro de la Vega was sitting in an ancient wooden swivel chair, working on revisions to his doctoral thesis Methodism in America, when he heard the soft buzzing of his cell phone. He picked up the phone, swiveling his chair around before he spoke to look out the high tiny window in his cramped office at the far end of the Culiacan Cathedral. “This is Father De La Vega.”
“This is Lieutenant Flores of the federal police. We are trying to notify the family of Diego Sanchez. He has you listed as the family contact.”
Father Teodoro’s eyes stayed fixed on the fronds of the tall palm tree growing in the cathedral’s backyard. “Yes, I am Diego’s brother-in-law. How can I help?”
“I am sorry to inform you that your sister’s husband, Diego Sanchez, was arrested this morning and is currently being held in custody in Culiacan prison.” The lieutenant sounded subdued, deferential to the Catholic priest, sympathetic.
Father Teo was silent for several moments. “Oh my God, this is a shock. My sister was kidnapped three days ago, on January 2. She and Diego have three young children, and now this.” Father Teo sighed deeply and made the sign of the cross.
“I know about the kidnapping. I am so sorry. It seems your family is suddenly confronting great adversity. I can assure you that all the police agencies are working diligently to find your sister.”
Father Teo took several deep breaths before responding. “Would it be possible for me to go see Diego now?”
Lieutenant Flores was silent a moment. “Yes, under the circumstances, I’m sure there must be many arrangements to be made for the children. I will contact the prison and get your visit authorized.”
Father Teo stood up, suddenly feeling dazed; his jaw clenched as his eyes riveted on the small statue of Jesus he kept on his desk. “I am on my way to the prison now.” He next forced himself to call his brother, Eduardo, and their father, Alfonso. He quickly concluded each call with “I’ll call you back as soon as I learn anything.”
Father Teo quickly jogged down the hall and across the cathedral campus to his car. Outside, he stood beside his car and gazed upward for several moments, praying for his sister, Diego, and their children. Then he got into his battered Toyota and headed to the prison.
Father Teo sat in the visitors’ waiting room for thirty minutes before the guards escorting Diego burst through the door on the prisoners’ side.
They pushed Diego ahead of them and roughly shoved him into a chair. One of them said, “Sit down and shut up!” to Diego and waved a finger under Diego’s nose. Father Teo moved quickly to the cubicle opposite Diego and sat on the hard plastic chair in the narrow enclosure.
“Teo, tell me about my family.” Diego was somber and seemed to have physically shrunk since the last time Teo had seen him only three days before.
Diego’s usual state of casual good humor had been replaced with a pallid and tense facial expression. His eyes were tearing and moved only indirectly in the direction of Father Teo; he could not maintain eye contact for more than a moment. His eyes, now dark and sunken, slowly roamed the brightly lit room: floor, walls, ceiling, Father Teo.
“We have had no contact with Tina’s kidnappers. We are doing everything we can to find her. Eduardo and I are moving heaven and earth to find her.
The kids miss her and are understandably upset. How are you?”
“I am depressed as hell. I’m scared out of my mind. I am so grateful to you and Eduardo.” Diego dipped his head and nervously checked the position of the guards. “Please do everything you can to get these charges dropped and get me out of here somehow.”
“Of course you are depressed. Anyone would be in these circumstances.
My father is talking to lawyers right now. Your arrest has come as a complete shock to all of us.”
“I am embarrassed and stunned by my arrest too, Teo. Please tell my mother and the children that I love them, but I do not want them to come here. Seeing me in this place will only make things worse for them. Have you learned anything about the charges against me?”
Father Teo chewed on his lip. He hesitated while a myriad of happy family memories flooded his thinking: Diego and Tina’s wedding, the births of their three children, and many family gatherings. “You are accused and charged with consorting with narco-criminals by laundering their illegal earnings, aiding the cartel’s hit men by providing them with shelter, engaging in a criminal conspiracy, and accepting financial assistance from the Pacific cartel. I’m still in shock, Diego. I don’t understand this. Is any of it true?”
Diego squirmed in his seat and dropped his head to the Formica countertop of the little booth. “Oh my god,” he said this loudly, and the nearest prisoners on Diego’s side of the barrier turned in his direction. When he sat back up straight, his hands clutched his heart. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Adventure, Dr. Fox, fiction, Frederick L. Malphurs, Thriller by Tena Stetler with 3 comments.
Interview with Marie Tuhart Author of Master Cole
Give a warm welcome to Marie Tuhart, author of Master Cole! just released on February 19, 2018!
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Marie Tuhart and Master Cole.
What inspired this particular story?
Well, I was working with a new small publisher and she wanted a full length story from me. She actually gave me the idea telling me she knew I could write a book like that. While I was writing the book she decided to close down her publishing company. So I put the story aside, and then came back to it. I still liked the story, but not the situation the characters were suppose to be in to created the conflict. So I changed the conflict and the book started to write itself
What secret do you use to blast through writer’s block?
It really depends. A lot of time I just sit down with my critique group and do a sprint session. I tell myself it’s only for an hour, you can write a few words in an hour. It usually helps break through the block. Sometimes I have to sit down and really think about why I feel I can write. When nothing works, I’ll allow myself to sit down and read for a while.
What do you want your readers to take away from your books?
I want readers to feel good. Romance is uplifting to me, and I want to share that with my readers. I want them to enjoy reading my books and feel the love the characters have for each other.
Why do you write what you write? Contemporary, paranormal, suspense, etc.
I write erotic romance and super sexy contemporary romance because they’re fun and I enjoy it.
What do you like to do when you are not writing?
I love to read and snuggle with my dog. I also spend time traveling when I can.
SPEED ROUND FOR A LITTLE ADDED FUN:
Speed Round (one word only answer): Yep, I know torture for a writer!<evil laugh>
Favorite movie: The Mummy
Favorite book: Romance
Last book read: Slade
Favorite color: Black
Stilettos or flipflops: neither
Coffee or tea: Coffee
Ebook or audiobook or paperback: Ebook
Pencil or pen: Pen
Favorite song: Save a horse, Ride a Cowboy
Streak or not: not
Favorite dessert: chocolate
Favorite junk food: potato chips
Favorite thing to do to relax: read
Champagne or gin: neither
Paranormal or Historical: Paranormal
Wonder Woman or Top Model: Wonder Woman
Favorite TV show: NCIS
Hot or cold: Hot
POV: Heroine
I’d die if I don’t have: Internet
Review or Not: Not sure
Tell us a little about Master Cole.
Janie Murphy’s glimpse inside of lifelong friend Cole Daniels’ special playroom has her intrigued, even if she has no physical experience with such wild pleasures. She only knows she’s been attracted to him for years and yearns for a relationship between them – and she’s not afraid to try a little kink.
Dominant Cole Daniels never imagined he’d find himself in the position of dragging a very grown-up and very attractive Janie out of a BDSM club. And when she challenges him to be the one to teach her the joys of the wilder side of intimacy or allow someone
else the sheer pleasure of initiating her, he can’t resist.
As Janie begins to fall in love, witnessing a true power exchange causes her the painful
realization that touching Cole’s heart is beyond her dreams.
When Janie leaves him, can Cole open his heart to the woman he truly loves? And will she be willing to handle all of Cole?
A peek between the pages of Master Cole.
Two long, frustrating months of living with Cole as if they were nothing more than friends. It was all going to end tonight. Bad or good, it had to end. “Look, I know you promised your dad to look after me, but I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
“I never said you weren’t old enough.”
“Then quit treating me like a child! I’m a woman and I have needs.”
He choked on his drink, and Janie covered her grin with her hand. She wasn’t going to pull her punches tonight. “I’m going to explore my sexuality with or without your help.” She really wanted him, but if he couldn’t see her as an adult, she’d find another Dom who would.
“What does that mean?” He scowled at her.
Janie downed the rest of her drink and set her glass on the bar. “It means I’m going to make my own decisions about sex and kink and how I experience them.” She lifted her chin and stared at him. “Now it’s your turn to decide if you’re going to teach me what I want to know, or do I go elsewhere?” Her heart clenched. She really wanted to learn from Cole, but she wasn’t going to wait forever. Janie turned and left the room.
Master Cole is available at:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079823NL1
Barnes & Nobel: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/master-cole-marie-tuhart/1127887257?ean=2940155380931
iTunes/book: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/master-cole/id1340033828?mt=11
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/master-cole
About the Author:
Marie Tuhart lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her muse, Penny, a four pound toy poodle. Marie loves to read and write, when she’s not writing, she spends time with family, traveling and enjoying life.
Marie is a multi-published author with The Wild Rose Press, Trifecta Publishing and does some self-publishing. To be alerted on new releases on Amazon or Book Bub. Also you can join Marie’s newsletter where she gives her group advance information on her books, runs contests and does giveaways just for newsletter readers. Marie can also be found on Goodreads, Pinterest, Twitter, and Facebook.
It was wonderful having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Master Cole.
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged erotic romance, Marie Tuhart, Master Cole, Spice Contemporary Romance by Tena Stetler with 2 comments.
Montana Ash – Author of Custodian
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Montana Ash and her latest release Custodian, Book Five of Elemental Paladins.
Click on cover to read more or buy.
About the Author:
Goodreads page https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14661560.Montana_Ash
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Ancient Knights, Custodian, Montana Ash, Paranormal/Fantasy Romance by Tena Stetler with 3 comments.
Interview with Casey Wyatt, Author of Dead Girls Don’t Sing!
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Casey Wyatt and Dead GIrls Don’t Sing. I’ve got to check this one out!
What inspired this particular story, Casey? My main character, Cherry Cordial aka Charity Belmont is a former vampire stripper who ends up living on Mars (see Dead Girls Don’t Cry). In the first book, Cherry finds her true love, Ian and they settle an undead colony on Mars. I don’t want to say more (spoilers!) but, while that adventure ended, Cherry’s past was an unexplored treasure. I had so many unanswered questions about Cherry’s family. I knew Jonathan (her maker and first husband) had to be holding things back. Did her brother and her sisters go on to live quiet, mortal lives? And who were the visitors that appeared at the end of book one? I needed answers!! And so, Dead Girls Don’t Sing was born. I may have answered those questions, but there are more for Dead Girls Don’t Lose.
What do you want your readers to take away from your books? I want my readers to have fun and to go on an exciting adventure. I write the kinds of books that I like to read too. My eyes gloss over if a book is “important” or has dense walls of descriptions because I’m the kind of person who gets impatient reading long greeting card prose. I’m all about dialogue. Banter is the best, and so is a story that makes me stay up half the night wondering how it’s going to end.
What do you like to do when you are not writing? I love to read but my favorite activity is to go to museums with my younger son (and sometimes my older son too). We enjoy museums so much that I created a website, Museum Maniacs (museummaniacs.com) and a Facebook page too (https://www.facebook.com/MuseumManiacs/). At the moment, the website is bare bones (the day job and writing consume most of my day) but the Facebook page sees more action. I’m also a crafter (knit, crochet, embroidery, cross stitch) and I’m a lapsed artist. I grew up drawing and painting mostly from life and now I’m learning Manga/Anime styles. I recently bought a HUION Kamvas digital drawing tablet and CLIP Studio Paint to “help” me learn. Yup. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it J.
You’ve got a time machine, a cloak of invisibility, and one hour. Where would you go, and what eavesdropping would you do? First off, you’d never get the time machine or the cloak of invisibility back. Because seriously, I’d want to see everything. The past, the future, even the present (I’d probably sneak onto movies sets and Doctor Who). I totally get why Doctor Who stole the TARDIS. I have a degree in anthropology and I have no idea where I’d start first. So many choices!! But if I have to choose, I’d visit Heron of Alexandria (and that famous library).
Thank you so much for hosting me today. I love to chat so if anyone has any questions or comments, fire away! My social media contacts are listed toward the bottom of the page.
Click on the cover to read more or buy!
A peek between the pages of Dead Girls Don’t Sing!
Tiny pokers stabbed my eyes.
Another body, warm and hard, spooned against my backside.
Ian always felt so good, comforting and real.
His hand wrapped around my waist, cupping the underside of my breast. A cool sheet slid off my bare shoulder.
I was naked and in bed. A snippet of memory interrupted my appreciation of my husband’s hand.
Wasn’t I running from something . . .?
Fingers trailed along my spine, heading south. The touch was wrong, unfamiliar and rough.
Hold on. That wasn’t Ian. I shouldn’t feel the warmth of sun against my skin either. We lived on Mars, where it was colder than a witch’s tit.
If not Ian, then who was touching my inner thigh?
My eyelids snapped open like a shade on a spring. Bolting upright, I bared my fangs and grabbed the man’s wrist.
Oh, holy hell. I was in bed with another man. I rolled away and slammed into a different body. Shit, make that two other men. Two eye-poppingly gorgeous men.
Hey, I might be dead, but I’m not dead dead.
“Mistress? Have I displeased you?” said the man whose wrist I was about to shatter. Stunning blue-gray eyes. Dark stubble lined his chiseled jawline. His dark hair was mussed and complimented his swarthy skin tone. Dried blood smeared his neck. A red trail led to puncture marks.
The other man’s brown muscled chest rose and fell in rhythmic sleep. His body was fully exposed on the white sheet. Puncture marks lined his neck, his groin and his very erect penis.
My cheeks heated like a furnace. Clearly, we’d had a good time.
“No. Leave me. Both of you go to your rooms.” I dropped his wrist. The man woke his drowsing companion, and they left as I’d commanded.
Damn. I wished I could get the other men in my life to be so compliant.
Other men? There were other people important to me. Why couldn’t I remember them?
I’d kill Jonathan if he was messing with my mind again.
But yet… that idea didn’t feel right.
Somewhere in a dead corner of my memory, this moment seemed familiar. Jonathan, sensing my unhappiness with our “arrangement,” had spent the early years of our relationship attempting to please me.
This must have been my slut phase, where we’d bring home gorgeous men and I would feast and fuck while he watched. I enjoyed knowing it bothered him that I wouldn’t sleep with him. Only the mortals that we found in gaming dens, brothels, even at society events. The only other thing I would take from Jonathan besides his money was his blood, and only out of necessity.
Fucking hell. Ian’s go-to phrase—I remembered him now—helped resurface the reason why I was reliving this not-so-proud moment in my past.
The plague. The Lost Ship. The time stream. My daughter.
Oh, dear God. I hoped she was safe.
“Good morning, my pet.” Jonathan read a page of the morning newspaper while sipping tea from a dainty cup. He sat on the balcony situated outside my bedroom. From his vantage point, he could view the bed and my doings in Technicolor glory.
My heart lurched at the sight of his arrogant beauty. I had forgotten how full of life he’d been, especially in this time period. And, oh, how handsome he was. His raven hair glossy with blue highlights sparkled in the early morning sunshine. The strong line of his jaw and perfect Roman nose coupled with full lips made it hard not to stare at him. He hadn’t yet acquired the weariness that having a Family would place on him.
In later years, after much bitterness between us, I no longer saw him anymore. The beauty was tarnished, and we became as passionate as two coworkers passing the time until their shift ended. He had become someone I had to endure rather than enjoy. Not that I ever really “enjoyed” him because of the circumstances surrounding our sham marriage.
The horrid image of his death, when he’d knelt, offering Thalia his head, shattered the peaceful moment. With a plaintive look, he commanded that I accept his fate and mine. We both knew that Thalia, the dead queen’s heir apparent, was a vindictive bitch. She blamed me for her mother’s death and Jonathan refused to bow down to her. So, he did what he always did. He protected his Family by sacrificing himself so we could escape. In his last moments, regret had filled his eyes. The wish that we could have been different together had been silenced forever.
Seeing Jonathan again and remembering was worse than reopening a wound and rubbing salt in it with a lemon juice chaser. If only I could apologize to him for how awful I’d been. I hadn’t been blameless in wrecking our relationship. I could have tried harder to accept my fate instead of punishing him at every turn.
The temptation to blurt out the truth bubbled inside, until I had to force myself to look away from him. Would this Jonathan be willing to help me? Or would he use my current predicament to his advantage?
No. I couldn’t, wouldn’t chance it. Not with the entire colony’s lives hanging in the balance.
Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve. Sew it on a patch and you’d have my life’s motto.
Yup. Regrets sucked.
Jonathan placed the teacup down and smiled. “Did you enjoy yourself? You seemed a bit surprised when you awoke.”
Surprise didn’t cover how I felt. That word was too puny, too inadequate. After a few seconds, I found my voice again.
“Yes, we had a good time. Thank you.” It sure looked that way.
He acted like finding his wife in bed with other men was no big deal. It wasn’t like I would keep them. To him they were more like pets or meals with legs.
But now, with a century of wisdom tucked under my belt, instead of relishing in his annoyance, I realized something. He was sad. With himself or me, I wasn’t sure. And it didn’t matter. I had a mission to accomplish. A future to save.
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Casey Wyatt, Dead Girl's Don't Sing, Time travel, Urban Fantasy by Tena Stetler with 8 comments.
