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Could you please describe yourself in five words.
I am passionate about writing.
Do you have a motto that you live by, and if yes, would you mind sharing it with us?
Write every day no matter what.
What book is currently on your bed-side table?
Kylie Logan’s “A Trail of Lies”
If you could interview anyone in the world, who would it be and why?
I think I’d rather just sit down for a cup of tea and have a pleasant conversation, then do an actual interview. And with whom? Genevieve Cogman, author of the amazing secret library series. Why? Because I think we share a common passion for books and libraries the wonderful endless possibilities of what if.
If you could have been the original author of any book, which would it be and why?
Susan Vreeland’s book, “Luncheon of the Boating Party,” which follows Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s passion for art and people and the story that plausibly led up to his painting by the same title. Why this book? Because it’s brilliant and I love novels about the arts and I love the work of Renoir and the Impressionists.
which genre(s) was the hardest to write and why?
I think what makes my genres difficult is that they’re actually a combination of more than one genre. For example, my novels “Queen Mary’s Daughter,” “King Henry’s Choice,” and soon to be published, “Anne Regina: Daughter of a Queen” and “The Door, the Key and the Kingdom,” all part of the “Altering Royal History” series, are part historical fiction, but also just as much science fiction with all the time travel involved in the plots. Re-writing history is difficult, if not impossible in reality.
Is there a genre(s) you would not consider writing, and if yes, which one and why?
Horror. Why? I don’t think I could be convincingly gory. The closest I could get to this genre is my “Piccadilly Street” series, which has a very friendly resident ghost. There are some ghastly battles in these books, but nothing horrific. Even this recent book, “Beauty in the Beast,” has it shares of battles, but this is about as gory as I can get:
“Because you are their ultimate creation, Priya,” he sputtered. His body gave a violent shudder, as if he were fighting the inner workings which were enforcing their control on all he did and said. “You…” he was about to say more, when a wail escaped his lips and his arms flailed recklessly. The glass tomb shattered and he stepped out with ease, eyes glowing red, tubes fluttering around him like loose feathers. “Priya.” It was no longer Wayne’s voice, but rather something unearthly. “Priya. Come to us.”
“She stepped back. Assessed the approaching zombie-like creature and screamed. Amell was beside her within minutes as she continued to watch in horror the growing power as it approached.”
Which actor/actress(s) would you like to see playing the lead characters if they made a movie out of Beauty in the Beast?
To be honest? I’m not really up-to-date on the who’s who in twenty-first century Hollywood. Most of what I watch are old TV series from the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s and some from the 1990s, the eras when a TV show actually had a purpose, a theme and a plot. So, the actor/ actresses I’m familiar with are from my generation and too old to fit into these roles.
Do you have any questions that you would like to ask your readers?
Dear readers, do you write reviews for the books you read? Good or bad, did you know that reviews are the lifeline for all authors? Without these reviews, our ratings plummet and we don’t get noticed. All you need to do is write a couple of sentences to explain why you liked or disliked a book you read. I’m sure there’ll be an author out there (perhaps it’ll be me) who’ll thank you.
“Wait!” she called out in vain, but it was too late. Her escorts had vanished. She was alone. In the forest. With a strange creature trekking ever closer. She could hear the crunching of underbrush. Was it Roderick? Wayne? Or the unknown? D’Sonoqua? “Wait!” She stood frozen in place. Unable to move. Her weeks of training useless, for here, in the moment of urgency, she couldn’t think of what to do. Mind freeze! Lifting her head slowly, she let out a wail of frustration, the volume of her voice matching the creature in pursuit. The crashing was mere feet away and yet, still, she saw nothing but the forest. The trees. The shrubs. The annoying vines and fallen branches which threatened, and did, trip her. Again.
And, finally, she knew what to do. She ran. There wasn’t room enough to spread her wings and fly. At least, she didn’t think so. Jumping to the lowest tree branch, she used her chimpanzee prowess to grab hold and swing. She gained momentum in the swaying motion and swung herself to the next branch. A little higher this time. A little lower the next. Until she found herself facing a long stretch of sand and gravel and the wide, open waters beyond.
The beach. They had been headed toward the beach. The ancient village had stood along this stretch. Nothing remained. Only sand. Gravel. And the flapping waves lapping against the shoreline.
She swung once more and landed in a thick, soft patch of sand. The crunching was still close. Behind her. All around her. It echoed in the open spaces. Was this a test? Had Roderick and Wayne been set up to abandon her here? To test her abilities? She didn’t have time to ponder the possibility. An ear-piercing shriek, mere feet behind, made her jump and set off in a burst of momentum. She ran toward the water and splashed in the incoming tide, leaving a sloshing sound in her wake as she plundered ever forward.
But the creature, whatever it was, continued its pursuit. She was the prize. The victim. And, before the beach ended, she felt something grab her firmly, swinging her body in a circular motion as a parent might spin a child for pleasure. Only this wasn’t pleasure. And she was being swung much higher, much faster, until with a single toss she landed wrapped around a furry set of shoulders, hands and feet firmly gripped. She tried to resist. No use. The grip was too tight. She tried to scream, but only earned a mouthful of rancid, fowl-smelling fur which made her gag.
The creature roared. Shrieked. Roared some more. And ran. The motion was jolting. Jarring. Priya bounced relentlessly, her body repeatedly bruised with each new contact it made with the creature as the two plunged back into the forest. As branches chortled against the two, Priya sought refuge by burying her head in the furry shoulder, breathing gently so as not to gag further at the stench. It was either that or have her head scraped to shreds by resisting tree appendages.
They tore deeper into the forest, up and down inclines until finally the creature stopped. Abruptly. Dropping Priya roughly to the ground.
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