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5 Things Every Author Should Know About Working with Editors: a guest post by Rose Atkinson-Carter Congratulations, you’ve just finished your first draft! Or second… Third… Tenth?  Photo by Nick Morrison on Unsplash.  Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash. Writing a book is an exhilarating experience. Taking an idea from conception through to publication is as rewarding as it is challenging. Understandably it’s a very personal experience. After all, you’ve spent countless hours bringing your book’s world to life. Which is why you should find an editor who will not only do justice to your story but will also help you improve as an author, too. They may wield a red pen to kill your darlings, but it’s only to make your diamond truly shine. So, in this post, I’ll be sharing five tips to find the right editor for your project, and to establish a successful collaboration. 1. Find an editor with experience in your genre.  Image by Freepik. This cannot be stated enough. Unless you’ve decided to write in a market you don’t know, to an audience you can’t picture with stories you wouldn’t normally tell, chances are you wouldn’t want an editor doing the same thing, too. Most authors pen a novel that bursts forth from them because of what they read—as well as what they wished they could read. So while you’ll have research to do in understanding the wider market, picking an editor who understands market expectations and knows what your readers love will be better suited for your partnership. 2. Define the type of editing you need. Not all editors are created equal. And not all editors service the same needs each author may need. Understanding the different types of editing may be a good place to begin when researching which stage your manuscript is at and which editing service you require.  Image by Anne Karakash from Pixabay. Depending on skill and experience, your book could require multiple stages of editing. One editor may be able to perform each stage for you, but specialists exist in each niche for a reason. What are they and where should you begin?
3. Book your editor in advance. The best work truly shines with correct editing and redrafting. Therefore, it’s not a process you want to rush. Many editors can edit your manuscript quickly for a fee. But the trade off can be quality.  Photo by JESHOOTS.com on Unsplash. The editing stages of a novel can be daunting for the author, but just as much pressure exists for the editor, too. They want to give you the best work they can, and they want to help make your book the best it can be. So allowing enough time for each stage to happen should be paramount in your decision process. Taking in comments, redrafting new ideas, re-editing the new changes — each stage requires focus and thinking. And time. Regardless of if you’re getting your book ready for self-publishing or submitting to an agent, giving yourself enough time will help keep your fears in check. 4. Ask for a sample edit. If all the boxes have been checked and you know what service you need, you’ve found an editor in your genre you like, then the next stage is asking for a sample edit. Many editors offer this service for free. They may ask for the first page or first thousand words, either way they’ll give you an idea of how they see your idea and how to help. If your book sings in the way you hear it, chances are they will too. Which means they’ll help it sing louder with their editing.  Image by PV Productions on Freepik. At this stage, costs can be discussed. You’ll receive a quote on the entire manuscript. But many editors will also have an approximate cost depending on word count. 5. Trust their expertise. At the end of the day, a good editor will explain their decisions and suggestions, and ultimately help you grow. They want it to read as professionally as you do, so this means some great writing will be lost in the process. It’s not personal. While this sounds scary, a book is a path of decisions—deciding which routes to go down and which to not. Would you trade cutting your favorite line to expand upon a paragraph which deserves more attention? I know I would. Editors are objective eyes that want you to write to the best of your abilities. A certain level of trust is required in this partnership—they understand it’s your book baby. But while they may offer suggestions, their word is not law. The best editors are teachers at heart. If your book isn’t up to snuff, they’ll give you directions on how to fix it. If your story is vague in some regards, they’ll help mold your idea and foster your talent to reach it.  Image by Alex Halay on Freepik. Think of an editor like a Sat Nav. Both of you know the destination, and the right editor wants to help you get there in not only the quickest time, but to enjoy the journey as well! Guest Blogger Bio  Rose Atkinson-Carter is a writer with Reedsy, a marketplace and blog that helps authors with everything from how to make an audiobook, find the best writing software, to hiring a ghostwriter and everything in between. Check out our latest Writing in the Modern Age post here. 
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What and Why Do I Write: a guest post by Branka Čubrilo On June 17, 2023, in a spacious and architecturally appealing rooftop ambience of Mosman’s Fernery function room (Sydney, Australia), I had for the third time (over a period of 23 years) a book launch for my novel, Requiem for Barbara, published in May 2023 by my American publisher, Speaking Volumes. The event was well attended by about 60-70 people, just the right number to completely fill the space. The special honor this time was to be introduced to the crowd full of anticipation by my one and only daughter Althea. It was a three-hour event, and in her speech, Althea explained her experiences of living and understanding a mother who is an author. She detailed the differences of comprehension from a child, to her adolescence and finally adulthood. For me, I believe for all present alike, it was a revealing, touching, and humorous account. After her speech, she read the poem “Barbara” by Jacques Prévert, accompanied by classical guitar, “Preludio de Adios” by Alfonso Montes. This piece of music was chosen by the performing guitarist Su Keong, because he said, “It is a sad and nostalgic composition by Montes written at the time he defected from Venezuela to Germany”. The guitarist, Su Keong, found it “to be the appropriate piece for the ‘Requiem’ title theme of the book”. For the occasion, I wrote a speech, my address to the audience to make them understand what I write, why I write, and what writing means to me or to a writer in general. I’d like to share this speech with a wider audience because I received many congratulations for it, learning from the audience that this speech might interest and enlighten many... Very often, in interviews or privately, I get asked - what do I write about? Or what is my genre? I don’t have a genre. I write about life. How do you deal with what you’ve been dealt by life? Especially, if you have been dealt a mess. Mess varies from person to person, from culture to culture, from family to family. So, the question is - what do we do about it, if the only freedom we have is what we do with the life and the mess we were born into?  Photo by Timon Studler on Unsplash. I develop well-structured, many-layered characters who grapple with the big and small questions of life. They are always in search of meaning, of reason, love, beauty, in search of home and ultimately of God. I write about love, but I don’t write love stories. I write about human suffering, about wars, migrations, broken homes, broken hearts, and broken countries. About broken souls and broken promises. I am concerned with the big questions of human existence - the meaning of suffering; about pride, overzealous and unnecessary national pride that often leads people astray; about freedom, the shadow self and all of the shades in between two extreme emotions. My characters are lost, often in moral dilemmas during various life crises, searching for truth. I was, and I am a person, a writer who has always been in search of that elusive bird, the Truth - it can show us how insufficient our knowledge is, be it academic knowledge, intuitive or spiritual. We are always floating on the surface of the truth, a partial truth learned in our family, educational institutions, or through mainstream media. Truth is elsewhere - that is the reason why we can’t grasp the meaning of complex but simple questions as well. My interests are psychology, though not popular psychology of the New Age, but rather my amazement with what lies deep down in the human psyche that governs our behavior, our choices, and ultimately our deeds that we are not proud of; then my interest lies in philosophy, not particularly of any philosophical school, but rather the personal philosophy of characters that they develop over the course of their lives; and my personal interest lies in exploring religion, Christianity, and often my characters grapple with never reaching the truth about the existence of a benevolent being that runs the universe or their small lives. I write how much we need love, yet how elusive this notion is, how it is hiding from us, how it is leading us through mud and thorns – per aspera ad astra - in the simple human need and wish for always more -- love. Love, such a desirable companion, shows its face and then it hides, dragging you through tremendous experiences and the sharpest pains to show you that it needs a life-long dedication to master the art of loving. How can we find and keep love when we are unable to participate honestly and without fear? How? If I talk about suffering, how many people would lift their hand up if I asked them - have they suffered in their lives any kind of heartache, hardship, loss, depression, et cetera?  Photo by Pure Julia on Unsplash.  Photo by Simran Sood on Unsplash. Unfortunately, life is about suffering, about search, about growth. Look, I don’t want to scare you, to put you off, believing that I am a depressing writer who like a vivisector with a sharp razor cuts through life’s miseries. I show life in all its glory: the bad and the beautiful. Therefore, I write about kindness, where it can take you if you are committed to doing noble deeds; I write about lost but found happiness, even when the tunnel looks like a never-ending black hole. I write about random, destiny orchestrated, encounters which change one’s life. I write about injustice and justice. I write about beauty, governed from my inner need for beautiful art, beautiful scenery, or the beauty of someone’s soul or character. I don’t paint black and white pictures, I always look for balance in my life and in my writing. I aim to be an objective observer.  Image by John Hain from Pixabay. I observe people, listen attentively to conversations. I soak the atmosphere of a place, of a mentality, observing everything around me, thirsty to know and to use all of my feelings to enrich my mind, hence, to enrich minds and souls of my characters when I sit at my laptop for a new story. I write about you. My readers find themselves in my characters, in certain situations. In difficult times, they get hope, they laugh and cry with my characters, and I write for me, too, in order to understand my inner world better. I write about human goodness, advancement, courage, hope and redemption. I impart hope and faith. I stir emotions, so you cry and you fear my characters, you pray and laugh with me.  Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash. I like my brutes, the horrible characters, the ones that you dislike (perhaps just because they have some hidden traits of your own character, so they irritate you). They commit unimaginable deeds, war crimes, their lessons bitter and hard, but eventually justice comes and you sigh the sigh of relief, promising yourself that you won’t ever again have a certain thought, deed or, shall I say, a misdeed. Usually, my leading female characters are physically beautiful women; I show the price of female beauty, the suffering of beauty, not the shallowness of it. My female characters are as well in constant search - with the need to better themselves, they study life through different lessons, through shallow clichés of the fashion world, through the New Age movement, through too many lovers, through art, or again, simply through personal suffering. Many of my female characters are sharp and self-sufficient women, while those that are not yet, are subconsciously yearning to be ‘elsewhere’ or someone better to achieve what they ultimately will become.  Photo by Richard Jaimes on Unsplash. In my short stories, I introduce humorous, spontaneous larrikins, naïve or care-free people who visit my vignettes just to make you laugh, or open your mouth wide with astonishment with how direct, rude, or quirky the human mind and behavior can be. Therefore, I cover a variety of characters, in different lands, of different nationalities, showing that nationality or culture doesn’t necessarily form the character, the good and the evil, kindness or rudeness, that all human characteristics and deeds belong to all of us, that our creator mixed and spread us equally on this earth in His need to encourage humans for the betterment of oneself and of society as such. And let me finish now with a few more words about the book we are launching, as it has a long life and history.  https://books2read.com/u/47dxqA I published Requiem for Barbara a long time ago. Precisely 23 years ago, in 2000 in my native country of Croatia. The book received good reviews and an interested readership; the Ministry of Education purchased it and placed the book in all libraries across the country. The more people that read it, the more often I was asked if there were hidden parts of my own life embedded within the story. People who know me well - my family and close friends - were all convinced that it was a loose memoir about my life. A life that I was in fact living on another continent and feeling all the struggles as a foreigner and young, unknown writer, building their life from scratch. It is an elegy, a sad story about a young female writer who struggles as a single mother in Sydney, without having any kind of help or any family. And after the heavy burden of trying and unfavorable circumstances, she breaks down and ultimately falls terminally ill. When I was writing the story, I was absolutely unaware that a similar destiny was going to befall me. Barbara was a neurotic, artistic woman who utterly adored her daughter; she led a very hermetic life where she never let other people participate. When people used to tell me that I was Barbara, that they could recognize me in her every word, or every deed or emotion, I would just shrug my shoulders, saying, “No, I am not Barbara, she is just a character who happens to be a sensitive writer locked in her own world.” I think a writer writes about experiences they have lived through and people they have encountered, as this is the ground where they feel the most familiar, hence the most competent. Even when the story is set elsewhere, or in a different historical period, the characters will still have traits of the writer or some of their experiences – real experiences or psychological structures in their mind. The majority of readers had believed that it was my own story, many even calling me Barbara, but with the passage of time the book slowly went into history, and I was called by the various names of my other female characters. In 2020, exactly 20 years after the first publication of Requiem for Barbara, I got asked to publish it again in a different language, in a different country, so, the book was published in Belgrade, Serbia. My friends and acquaintances who read Requiem for Barbara 20 years ago, re-read the book, and I received emails or messages from people asking the same question: “When are you going to translate this book into English?”  Photo by Caleb George on Unsplash. I was never sure if I wanted to translate it, as this story somehow always brought me a profound sadness, for it reflected a time of my life when I was living under lots of emotional stress and adversity. Besides, I had the feeling that I had finished all my dealings with this story and with Barbara herself. But she was a part of me, part of my psyche for many years, and I understood that she needed to live again through new readership. I understood that she was destined to be published and re-published over and over and get a new audience, as if she would gain a new life, a prolonged one, or that she yearned to live forever accessible to many people, in many languages. In this elegy of mine, each chapter starts with a stanza from the poem ‘Barbara’ by Jacques Prévert, setting the atmosphere where Barbara shows parts of her personality to the reader - being a writer herself, she is a poetic, other-worldly soul who struggles with everyday living in a common world, among the people who don’t have the time to listen to the song of her soul nor hear verses of her poetry. The rest you will find in the book that has been published for the third time, and hopefully many more times in many more languages. Guest Blogger Bio  Branka Čubrilo is an international author of eight novels and two short story collections. Branka has lived in Australia, Spain, and Croatia, and has also worked as a radio producer and presenter on SBS Australia, as well as working as an interpreter and translator of several languages. Branka's latest book, Requiem for Barbara, was published in May 2023. Branka's articles and essays and short stories have been published in many online and print magazines. Two years ago, Branka was named one of the top ten writers of literary fiction by her American colleagues in a literary magazine run by the author Caleb Pirtle. All of Branka Čubrilo's work is available at Barnes and Noble, Amazon, both in ebook and print editions. Branka's novels published in English include: The Mosaic of the Broken Soul, Flume - The Lost River, Dethroned, Three to Tango & Other Stories, and Requiem for Barbara. Links https://speakingvolumes.us/author/branka-cubrilo/ https://www.amazon.com/stores/Branka-Cubrilo/author/B0052Y00I6 https://medium.com/@brankacubrilo https://www.instagram.com/branka_cubrilo_author/?hl=en https://www.youtube.com/@brankacubrilo4072 Check out our latest Writing in the Modern Age post here.  Please welcome our guest reviewer today! Let’s see what she has to say. Take it away, Cassandra… Thank you! ♥ Miscreants, Murderers, and Thieves anthology - organized by Samuel W. Reed  https://books2read.com/u/boqXR1 This was quite an interesting book! As a lover of crime fiction, this book was right up my alley. Each story was great on its own with surprise twists. As a whole, the stories make for a wonderful read for crime lovers. I was hooked from the very first story. The Temperature at Which Love Freezes by Katherine Tomlinson was one of my favorites. A story of revenge for a cheating husband. I definitely loved the twist at the end. Murder at the Magic Castle by Gabriel DiDomenico leaves you with an ending that will shock you. What I loved most about this book was the crime element. All the stories were well-written with relatable characters you want to cheer for, villains and good guys alike. There was nothing about the book I didn't enjoy. I give it 5 stars and would read it again and again. NOTE: I was provided a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.  Photo by Towfiqu Barbhuiya on Unsplash. Book Blurb: Take a tour through the minds of thirteen of today's most talented independent authors in a crime anthology like no other. Miscreants, Murderers, and Thieves hosts a cross-section of indie writers from all across America in a unique compilation of diverse voices set to take you on a journey beyond your wildest imagination. From aging detectives trapped in a magic house of hell, to a doctor with a fascination for the macabre, to New Century City, where superheroes and supervillains battle it out for supremacy, this is a genre-bending short story collection guaranteed to thrill. Featuring contributions from award-winning authors, screenwriters, and wordsmiths such as Don Bapst, David Beeler, Shawn D. Brink, Dori Ann Dupre, Gabriel DiDomenico, Dane G. Kroll, Ethel Lung, Casey Mensing, Suzanne Crain Miller, Samuel W. Reed, Katherine Tomlinson, Will Wallace & Nicholas Zeman, with illustrations by Jared Sloger. Universal Reader link: https://books2read.com/u/boqXR1 Here’s an excerpt from the book… With a last look around, Jonathan exhaled a sigh and trudged back up the walkway to the front door. He was mildly surprised to find it wouldn’t open. One of the first things he’d done when he and Kaye had moved into the house was change the lock so it would shut but not latch unless turned with a key. Probably it’s just frozen in the cold, Jonathan decided. It’s an old house. But after he jiggled the handle and pulled and tugged, it became clear that the door was, in fact, locked. Jonathan was irritated, but not yet concerned. They kept a spare key to the front door beneath a fake rock hidden in the rose bushes that bracketed the front porch like a pair of parentheses. It took him a while to find the fake rock and he scratched himself on the thorny branches of the winterized rose bushes in the process. When he reached down to pick up the phony stone one of the thick, hard thorns embedded itself in his forearm, drawing a single tear of blood, which he ignored as he stared below at the cold, bare dirt. He was puzzled at first, but that soon gave way to a feeling that he identified as … panic. He patted the pockets of his robe, unconsciously searching for a phantom key but finding only a random cough drop wrapped in sticky paper. “Fuck,” he said out loud, closing his robe a little tighter. He considered lobbing the fake rock at his bedroom window but knew Kaye would never hear it. She was a heavy sleeper and she’d been snoring when he left their bedroom. Jonathan climbed the steps back onto the porch and considered his options. The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, small enough that he and Kaye knew all their neighbors. But the housing crisis had taken its toll on the neighborhood and only two of the houses were occupied. Their nearest neighbors had gone to visit their children for the holidays and the man who lived in the house across the street worked the night shift. Jonathan sighed. The windows on the first floor of his house were all covered by iron security grates. Even if he managed to break the glass, it wouldn’t do him any good; the openings were too small to wriggle through. He walked around the house toward the garage, wondering if he could pry the roll-down door open wide enough to crawl under it. He knelt on the damp, cold concrete to get some traction on the door handle but couldn’t budge it more than an inch. Fuck, he thought again, and then, it’s getting cold. In fact, it wasn’t actually getting colder, but the wind had picked up significantly, making it feel like it had. Jonathan stamped his feet to warm them up, and then tried jumping jacks to get the blood flowing in the rest of his body. The exercise didn’t help. He began to shiver, at first imperceptibly and then so violently that his teeth began to rattle. He started next door with the vague notion of breaking into the neighbor’s house, but halfway across the lawn he tripped on one of the pop-up sprinklers that kept their grass green in summer. He fell heavily and by the time he’d gathered himself, he’d forgotten his plan and returned to the house. He was beginning to have a hard time thinking straight. A few minutes later, it seemed like a good idea to shuck his robe and kick off the slippers, which were now loose on his cold, shrunken feet. By the time he stepped out of his boxers, he was feeling light-headed and calm. He didn’t even see the shadow lingering in the window. *** Inside the house, which she kept heated to 78 degrees against the Minnesota winter, Kaye watched as her husband peeled of his boxers in what she had learned was known as “paradoxical undressing.” It was a sign that the body and mind were starting to shut down in the cold, a symptom of extreme systemic distress. It was 23 degrees outside and the forecast called for sleet and possibly snow before the night was over. The wind was from the north, sweeping down from Canada and dropping the perceived temperature to somewhere around minus 15. That was cold, but not spectacularly cold. Kaye had read that in parts of Siberia empty plastic bags would freeze within minutes in the frigid temperatures; freeze and then crack like glass. She’d seen movies where people were flash-frozen by liquid nitrogen and then shattered like fine china. She’d have liked to have seen Jonathan break into a million frozen shards. But that might have looked suspicious to the police. Better to keep it simple. A lot of people simply freeze to death every winter. She’d looked it up. There’d be no reason for the police to question her story that she’d found him dead on the front lawn after he’d inexplicably wandered out into the cold. They’d find the 25-year-old scotch in his belly in the autopsy and nod knowingly. Most cold-related deaths involved alcohol, Kaye had read. Jonathan always had a drink or two before bed. She knew it was the only way he could stomach lying so close to her night after night. The police probably wouldn’t check his cell phone but if they did, it would be a bonus. The text had come from a burner phone Kaye had picked up the day after their last anniversary, the anniversary where he’d gotten her a $50 gift certificate to Bed, Bath, and Beyond. It had been easy enough to schedule the text to arrive in the middle of the night. The number wouldn’t track back to Lila, of course, but Kaye had attached one of the nude pictures she’d found in Jonathan’s computer. Lila’s skanky face had been clearly visible. It wouldn’t take the police long to find her and to ask her why she’d enticed her lover out of the house on such a cold night. Kaye had watched a lot of Forensics Files. The police wouldn’t find the photo on Jonathan’s computer. Kaye had replaced his hard drive after duplicating everything on the system except for the pictures and the incriminating emails. It had taken her close to a month, but she was nothing if not patient. Kaye really didn’t bear her rival any ill will, but if Lila was implicated in Jonathan’s death, well, it’d be gravy. At the thought of gravy, Kaye's stomach growled. Maybe I’ll make some ham and red-eye gravy, she thought. Once all the commotion dies down. Maybe some biscuits, too. Something that’ll stick to my ribs on such a cold morning. Kaye smiled as she turned back to her cozy cotton bed. She had always loved the cold. BOOK INFO: AUTHOR: Samuel W. Reed (editor, organizer) and Various Authors TITLE: Miscreants, Murderers, and Thieves GENRE: Short Stories Anthologies RELEASE DATE: January 25, 2020 PUBLISHER: Reed Press ISBN/ASIN: B0846Y2J51 OUR RATING: 5 stars REVIEWED BY: Cassandra Jones of cassandra-mywritingworld.blogspot.com Guest Blogger/Reviewer Bio:  I am an author from West Virginia. I write mostly crime fiction, horror, romance, poetry, and even children’s. When not writing, I spend most of my time reading. I love to write reviews for every book I read and I read pretty much anything I can get my hands on. Awesome. Thanks for this, Cassandra, and for stopping by the blog! :) Check out our latest Writing in the Modern Age blog post here.  Please welcome our guest reviewer today! Let’s see what she has to say. Take it away, Jamie… Thank you! ♥ Miscreants, Murderers, and Thieves anthology - organized by Samuel W. Reed  https://books2read.com/u/boqXR1 A little suspense, a little tiny bit of romance, a lot of plot twists, a little sci-Fi maybe. This anthology has a little bit of everything for everyone. Lots of didn't-see-that-coming moments too. Quick short stories. I did feel as if some of the stories left out some important details and may have been rushed to "finish". NOTE: I was provided a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. I give this book 4 stars.  Image by Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay. Book Blurb: Take a tour through the minds of thirteen of today's most talented independent authors in a crime anthology like no other. Miscreants, Murderers, and Thieves hosts a cross-section of indie writers from all across America in a unique compilation of diverse voices set to take you on a journey beyond your wildest imagination. From aging detectives trapped in a magic house of hell, to a doctor with a fascination for the macabre, to New Century City, where superheroes and supervillains battle it out for supremacy, this is a genre-bending short story collection guaranteed to thrill. Featuring contributions from award-winning authors, screenwriters, and wordsmiths such as Don Bapst, David Beeler, Shawn D. Brink, Dori Ann Dupre, Gabriel DiDomenico, Dane G. Kroll, Ethel Lung, Casey Mensing, Suzanne Crain Miller, Samuel W. Reed, Katherine Tomlinson, Will Wallace & Nicholas Zeman, with illustrations by Jared Sloger. Universal Reader link: https://books2read.com/u/boqXR1 Here’s an excerpt from the book… With a last look around, Jonathan exhaled a sigh and trudged back up the walkway to the front door. He was mildly surprised to find it wouldn’t open. One of the first things he’d done when he and Kaye had moved into the house was change the lock so it would shut but not latch unless turned with a key. Probably it’s just frozen in the cold, Jonathan decided. It’s an old house. But after he jiggled the handle and pulled and tugged, it became clear that the door was, in fact, locked. Jonathan was irritated, but not yet concerned. They kept a spare key to the front door beneath a fake rock hidden in the rose bushes that bracketed the front porch like a pair of parentheses. It took him a while to find the fake rock and he scratched himself on the thorny branches of the winterized rose bushes in the process. When he reached down to pick up the phony stone one of the thick, hard thorns embedded itself in his forearm, drawing a single tear of blood, which he ignored as he stared below at the cold, bare dirt. He was puzzled at first, but that soon gave way to a feeling that he identified as … panic. He patted the pockets of his robe, unconsciously searching for a phantom key but finding only a random cough drop wrapped in sticky paper. “Fuck,” he said out loud, closing his robe a little tighter. He considered lobbing the fake rock at his bedroom window but knew Kaye would never hear it. She was a heavy sleeper and she’d been snoring when he left their bedroom. Jonathan climbed the steps back onto the porch and considered his options. The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, small enough that he and Kaye knew all their neighbors. But the housing crisis had taken its toll on the neighborhood and only two of the houses were occupied. Their nearest neighbors had gone to visit their children for the holidays and the man who lived in the house across the street worked the night shift. Jonathan sighed. The windows on the first floor of his house were all covered by iron security grates. Even if he managed to break the glass, it wouldn’t do him any good; the openings were too small to wriggle through. He walked around the house toward the garage, wondering if he could pry the roll-down door open wide enough to crawl under it. He knelt on the damp, cold concrete to get some traction on the door handle but couldn’t budge it more than an inch. Fuck, he thought again, and then, it’s getting cold. In fact, it wasn’t actually getting colder, but the wind had picked up significantly, making it feel like it had. Jonathan stamped his feet to warm them up, and then tried jumping jacks to get the blood flowing in the rest of his body. The exercise didn’t help. He began to shiver, at first imperceptibly and then so violently that his teeth began to rattle. He started next door with the vague notion of breaking into the neighbor’s house, but halfway across the lawn he tripped on one of the pop-up sprinklers that kept their grass green in summer. He fell heavily and by the time he’d gathered himself, he’d forgotten his plan and returned to the house. He was beginning to have a hard time thinking straight. A few minutes later, it seemed like a good idea to shuck his robe and kick off the slippers, which were now loose on his cold, shrunken feet. By the time he stepped out of his boxers, he was feeling light-headed and calm. He didn’t even see the shadow lingering in the window. *** Inside the house, which she kept heated to 78 degrees against the Minnesota winter, Kaye watched as her husband peeled of his boxers in what she had learned was known as “paradoxical undressing.” It was a sign that the body and mind were starting to shut down in the cold, a symptom of extreme systemic distress. It was 23 degrees outside and the forecast called for sleet and possibly snow before the night was over. The wind was from the north, sweeping down from Canada and dropping the perceived temperature to somewhere around minus 15. That was cold, but not spectacularly cold. Kaye had read that in parts of Siberia empty plastic bags would freeze within minutes in the frigid temperatures; freeze and then crack like glass. She’d seen movies where people were flash-frozen by liquid nitrogen and then shattered like fine china. She’d have liked to have seen Jonathan break into a million frozen shards. But that might have looked suspicious to the police. Better to keep it simple. A lot of people simply freeze to death every winter. She’d looked it up. There’d be no reason for the police to question her story that she’d found him dead on the front lawn after he’d inexplicably wandered out into the cold. They’d find the 25-year-old scotch in his belly in the autopsy and nod knowingly. Most cold-related deaths involved alcohol, Kaye had read. Jonathan always had a drink or two before bed. She knew it was the only way he could stomach lying so close to her night after night. The police probably wouldn’t check his cell phone but if they did, it would be a bonus. The text had come from a burner phone Kaye had picked up the day after their last anniversary, the anniversary where he’d gotten her a $50 gift certificate to Bed, Bath, and Beyond. It had been easy enough to schedule the text to arrive in the middle of the night. The number wouldn’t track back to Lila, of course, but Kaye had attached one of the nude pictures she’d found in Jonathan’s computer. Lila’s skanky face had been clearly visible. It wouldn’t take the police long to find her and to ask her why she’d enticed her lover out of the house on such a cold night. Kaye had watched a lot of Forensics Files. The police wouldn’t find the photo on Jonathan’s computer. Kaye had replaced his hard drive after duplicating everything on the system except for the pictures and the incriminating emails. It had taken her close to a month, but she was nothing if not patient. Kaye really didn’t bear her rival any ill will, but if Lila was implicated in Jonathan’s death, well, it’d be gravy. At the thought of gravy, Kaye's stomach growled. Maybe I’ll make some ham and red-eye gravy, she thought. Once all the commotion dies down. Maybe some biscuits, too. Something that’ll stick to my ribs on such a cold morning. Kaye smiled as she turned back to her cozy cotton bed. She had always loved the cold. BOOK INFO: AUTHOR: Samuel W. Reed (editor, organizer) TITLE: Miscreants, Murderers, and Thieves GENRE: Crime Fiction Anthology RELEASE DATE: January 25, 2020 PUBLISHER: Reed Press ISBN/ASIN: B0846Y2J51 OUR RATING: 4 Stars REVIEWED BY: Jamie M. Guest Blogger/Reviewer Bio:  My name is Jamie Manous. I am a single mom with two adult kids, both in college. I also have three fur babies, two dogs, and one cat. When I am not working or caring for my family, I spend my downtime reading and writing reviews for books and products I like. I like reading because it allows me to escape the world for a couple of hours and destress. I have done countless reviews for Amazon, and I have reviewed many authors including Michelle Major, Jo McNalley, Eva Moore, and E.M Shue. Most of the authors I review write Romance/Harlequin. But I enjoy reading genres like Romance/Harlequin, Murder Mystery, True Crime, Historical Nonfiction, and Historical Fiction. On very rare occasions, I read Fantasy Literature like Harry Potter or Twilight. I have reviewed for many years and still prefer a good ole paperback any day and own a personal library with about 7,000 books. Awesome. Thanks for this, Jamie, and for stopping by the blog! :)  Please welcome our guest reviewer today! Let’s see what she has to say. Take it away, Virginia… Thank you! ♥ The Me Too Girl by Lance and James Morcan  https://books2read.com/u/b5WWp6 This is an intense and short read that reflects the #MeToo moment. I recommend it to those who need to better understand those affected by sexual abuse or for those who are suffering or have suffered sexual abuse. It’s especially helpful to help those not abused to better understand some victims’ issues dealing with abusers who have almost omnipotent power over them. Too many victims have no hope or alternative of something else outside or beyond their abusive situation. It was awesome to experience how Suzie found some other way than giving in. There should always be a way out, an alternative, a “something better than this.” Unfortunately, this is not always possible. But Suzie found a way, even using new allies. Though it would have been nice for this to be a true story, this book had to be fiction, because few victims achieve the freedom and peace that Suzie did. This story should remind us all to notice better those around us, to reach out and actually assist those who have no advocate, and to stop abusers whenever they are found. I’m fine with the story being short. Too long or more detail could traumatize readers, especially ones who have lived a life like Suzie’s. The only downside of this book for me was that I wondered whether the authors were trying to advocate for victims or were trying to capitalize on a hot topic at the time. NOTE: I was provided a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. I give this book 4 stars because the MC overcame abuses and addictions that destroy more humans than not.  Ranking Vectors by Vecteezy. Book Blurb: Young Los Angeles public relations exec Suzie Fox is being blackmailed for sex by a bad cop, a senior officer of the LAPD no less. Suzie fights back the only way she knows how, and, in the process, unwittingly becomes a beacon, a shining light, for America's Me Too movement and for abused women everywhere. But will justice be served? Universal Reader link: https://books2read.com/u/b5WWp6 Here’s an excerpt from the book… The first I became aware he was waiting for me was when I crossed the street. I was about to enter the building when the patrol car’s passenger door opened and the passenger stepped out, blocking my path. I recognized him immediately despite the fact last time I saw him he wore the uniform of a police officer. Holy shit! Hector Williams, or Heck to his associates, was the LAPD’s Deputy Chief of Police. He was also kind of hard to forget. A hulking specimen, the forty-nine-year-old Williams stood six foot six and towered over all but a rare few of the passersby currently using the sidewalk outside my apartment. That wasn’t the main reason I remembered Deputy Chief Williams, however. We had a history of sorts. A history I’d rather forget. Williams smiled at me as he ran his eyes over my body and made no attempt to hide the fact he liked what he saw. His was a cruel smile and there was no affection in those cold, gray eyes. Glancing at the security camera above the building’s entrance, he smiled again as he flashed his ID card and, turning his face away from the camera, he said, “Hey little Suzie, remember me? I’m now Deputy Chief Hector Williams.” I shuddered involuntarily. I remember you alright. “What the hell do you want?” “Now, is that any way to greet ol’ Heck?” Williams took me gently but firmly by the arm and escorted me a little way along the sidewalk. Whether it was because of the presence of the security camera or the close proximity of his fellow officer in the nearby patrol car I wasn’t sure. Knowing him, it was probably because of both of those things. As we walked, my mind was racing. When I’d last seen Williams I’d been using another name and residing elsewhere in this city – in Venice, to be precise. That was three or four years ago now. Since then, I’d adopted a complete change of lifestyle, reverted to using my real name and relocated to new premises at least three times. In doing so, I believed I’d never see the man again. At least I prayed I’d never see him again. How in God’s name did you find me, Hector? BOOK INFO: AUTHOR: Lance and James Morcan TITLE: The Me Too Girl GENRE: Crime Drama RELEASE DATE: November 5, 2019 PUBLISHER: Sterling Gate Books ISBN/ASIN: B08137BDGH OUR RATING: 4 Stars REVIEWED BY: V.B. “Can Do Indie Author” Guest Blogger/Reviewer Bio:  VB is an indie author who writes romance and Sci Fi and voraciously reads anything (with some limits). When she’s not reading and writing, she’s working a day job to pay for her truck habit and puttering around her house. Awesome. Thanks for this, V.B., and for stopping by the blog! :)  Please welcome our guest reviewer today! Let’s see what she has to say. Take it away, Ginny… Thank you! ♥ Raising Kane by Susan Lynn Solomon  https://books2read.com/u/bPLJNz We start our story with reporter Libby Bridgeman going to interview a one-time star Alicia Kane, who has been in seclusion for many years. Her boss wants her to fly out to do an interview in person. However, Libby does not want to go. She would rather do the interview over the phone and get it over with. She gets ahold of a friend who does some digging into Alicia’s background and finds out that she was arrested during a student riot during the 60s. So, she thought that she had enough information, and she could just fill in the gaps with a phone call. When she arrived at the house, she was greeted by a very happy to see her older woman whom she was not expecting, but she was ready to get the interview over with so she could be on her way. Alicia wasn’t interested in talking about the one topic that Libby was ready to start with and it made her feel uneasy. She was there to do a job and Alicia was not making it easy on her. She got her interview back on track and they continued. After she had returned home, she was sitting on her bed getting all her interview notes in order when she got a message to call the Niagara Falls Police Department. She was not prepared for what she was about to hear on the other end of the phone conversation. The detective that she spoke with gave the news of Mrs. Alicia Lawrence’s death and how they did not expect foul play. Though Libby was warned by several people – including her family – to let this investigation go, she kept researching it and was set back by what she had learned of this mysterious woman, whom she had met once. I was able to finish this book in one day, it was a great, easy read that held my attention the entire time. I recommend this book without a doubt.  Image by Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay. Book Blurb: Libby Bridgeman, a stringer for the Village Voice, balks when Max Howard, her editor, insists she interview Alicia Kane. Though, campus rebel, a rock superstar and an icon in the 1970s, Kane hasn’t been heard of in forty years. A Brooklyn court case involving a Black Lives Matter protest seems far more relevant. But you don’t say no to Max Howard. While writing the article about the interview after meeting Kane, Libby receives a call from a detective—Alicia Kane is dead. Accident or suicide, the detective tells her, but Libby believes she was murdered. When Max insists that she drop the story, she’s certain he knows more than he’ll tell her. In Greenwich Village, Chicago, Niagara Falls, a Manhattan recording studio, Libby interviews people who’d known Kane. Like Max, each seems to hide something. A connection to her family? Then, one tumultuous night she learns Alicia Kane’s complete story, and this flips her world. Universal Reader link: https://books2read.com/u/bPLJNz Here’s an excerpt from the book… “A lioness of the 60s and 70s,” I said with a sardonic laugh as I sat before my make-up mirror. I have a habit of thinking out loud. In fact, some- times words fall from my mouth before I realize they’re in my brain. This can be embarrassing—not lady-like, my mother often told me. While in my mind, I listened to my mother chastise me for this untoward trait, I had another idea. “Ira!” I picked up my phone and punched in the number of a friend who worked at a collection agency. Phone, gas, electric bills, charge accounts, speeding tickets, arrests, even most birth records—every bit of a person’s life seemed to be logged in some computer’s database. My friend had access to those. After a few minutes on hold, listening to Latin music, he came on the line. “Ira?” I said. “What do you want now?” “Do I have to want something to call an old high school pal?” “You always want something,” he said. “I give, you take, and I don’t hear from you again until you want something else.” I sighed. This was definitely not one of my better days handling men. No surprise. I’ve never handled them very well. I tried again. “I just thought maybe you could find me a little background on―” “Giving you a little background could get me fired.” “Ira, don’t be this way,” I said in the most helpless voice I could muster. “I don’t need anything as deep as last time. No bank records. I’m really stuck for a place to start on my new assignment. You’re the only one I can turn to.” BOOK INFO: AUTHOR: Susan L Solomon TITLE: Raising Kane GENRE: Mystery/Suspense RELEASE DATE: January 18, 2022 PUBLISHER: Solstice Publishing ISBN/ASIN: ISBN: 979-8404780031/ AISN: B09QQ9YCJK OUR RATING: 5 Big Amazing Stars REVIEWED BY: Virginia (Ginny) Frick Guest Blogger/Reviewer Bio:  I am a military wife, a mom, and a Gigi. All of which I would never change. I have a deep love for reading, and if I was given the opportunity, I truly believe I could do it all day. I decided to start reviewing books one day while I was reading some posts and thought, I can do that. So I commented on a few posts and next thing I know, I am reading some pretty amazing books. My cousin and I started a review blog (www.cuzweread.wordpress.com) and a bookstagram (@cuz.weread.books). Awesome. Thanks for this, Ginny, and for stopping by the blog! :) 
Hi, readers! We have a real treat in store for you today, a spotlight on a book by Mary Maddox, a talented author!
Mary, an author I met on my journey, has a book tour running right now. Let's check out the details, shall we?
Daemon Blood
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play 
GIVEAWAY!
Intriguing! Mary is providing us with an exclusive playlist for her new book...
Compiling a playlist for Daemon Blood was a challenge for me. I admire playlists in movies, the way the music underscores and sometimes provides ironic commentary on the story. I strived to meet that high standard in this playlist. My knowledge of music is less than encyclopedic, though. I listened to numerous songs and musical passages to discover new songs, and tracked down pieces I knew by ear without knowing what they’re called. I’m mostly satisfied with the twelve songs in the playlist, but I suspect that somewhere in the vast universe of music I could have found music that complements my story even better. The playlist below is eclectic, to say the least. I’ve tried to select music to represent the diverse characters and bizarre events in Daemon Blood. I hope you enjoy it. Amy Winehouse--Rehab Igor Stravinsky--The Firebird Gustav Holst--Mars from The Planets Emmy Lou Harris— Pledging My Love Iggy Pop--The Passenger Lords Of The New Church--Dance With Me Sonny Rollins--There'll Never Be Another You Aaliyah--Rock The Boat Erik Satie--Gymnopédie No.1 Khalid--Talk Samuel Barber--Adagio for Strings The Doors— Strange Days The complete playlist is here. Awesome! Thanks so much, Mary! Let's also give kudos to Mary's sponsor: 
Grab a copy of this one! Thank you, Mary, for letting us know all about your adult fantasy/horror novel. It sounds like quite a tale! 
Thanks for stopping by to let us know about your new release, Mary! ♥
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