DEFENDING THE PEN
It’s all about murder . . . romance – writing it!
I post flash fiction, book announcements, interviews, and the things I love.
Careful . . . you may end up the victim . . .
of fun!
Today, I’ve invited one of
my favorite authors, Jemi Fraser, to tell us about her first love and how it
inspired her writing?
Jemi is about to release a series of romances called Bloo
Moose Romances.
Reaching
For Normal
Reaching
For Risks
Reaching
For Everything
As a Beta Reader, I had the pleasure
of a first look and I was blown away by how her books captured my heart. I just
had to know what her inspiration was. Here is Jemi's story!
Thanks for having me on your
blog today, Renee!
My first love?
Way
back when, my sister started playing tennis. Being the tag-along sister I was,
I decided to play too. We jumped on our bikes and found different courts around
the city.
Back in
those days, there were always lots of people at the tennis courts. In our city
we had a system. Everyone sat on the benches lining the courts and waited their
turn. People played for about a half-hour then took their seats at the end of
the line. We all played doubles so that more people got to play.
At one
set of courts, we played a few times against a boy and a girl we didn’t know.
Sigh.
He was
a cutie and he played really well. We were well-matched teams so we often
arranged to play against each other. It was a really fun summer.
Me
being me, I was way too shy to ask the cutie for his name. In fact, we rarely
spoke except about the game.
But my
twelve-year-old self was in love.
Fast forward
to Reaching For Everything and you’ll find that Kami and Rayce spent a lot of
time in their youth on the tennis courts of Bloo Moose. Those memories, that
love of the game translated easily onto the page.
As did
the memories of that first love. That first burst of emotion that you remember
a long time afterward.
As for
the cutie?
I
married him.
***
Folks, if that doesn't make you swoon...nothing will!
Jemi Fraser writes both fiction and nonfiction. Her
nonfiction work focuses on the ways that dementia has impacted her family. Her
fiction work varies from contemporary romance to suspense and flash fiction.
Years as a teacher have taught Jemi that life is short and that happy endings
are a must.
Jemi lives in Northern Ontario, Canada where snow is always
a topic of conversation and the autumn leaves make everything better.
An Interview with Elaine Kaye, author of Bad Fairy.
1. What was your hardest scene to write?
The scene with the twisty (the tornado) was the hardest to write because I had to figure out where my fairy characters would go, who would help, and how they’d survive. Of course, the devastation afterward was also tough. Trying to describe all that for kids was a challenge.
2. What makes you run screaming?
One word. Snakes.
3. You’re about to be dropped in a remote spot for a three-week survival test. Where would you go? What three tools would you take?
I would go to a private island off the coast of Key West, because I’ve always wanted to go to Key West. And I would bring a complete portable gas grill/burner, a fishing pole, and a tent. That way I can catch fish to eat and sleep peacefully at night.
4. What behind-the-scenes tidbit in your life would probably surprise your readers the most?
I am a children’s author to date, but I started out writing pioneer/frontier novels. I am still working on these stories, one of which I began in 1982, and hope to one day publish them.
5. If you had the opportunity to live anywhere in the world for a year while writing a book that took place in that same setting, where would you choose?
Hawaii. I lived there when I was younger for several years, so I know
quite a bit about Hawaii already, but I’d love to go back. Writing a book set there wouldn’t be so bad, either.
6. If you could tell your younger writing self anything, what would it be?
Dreams do come true.
7. What does literary success look like to you?
That’s simple. Happiness. I’m retired. I’m not looking for big bucks or to be a best-seller. All I want to do is publish these books I’ve been dreaming of sharing for decades, see them in print, and know that someone out there is reading them.
8. Tell us about the book you’re working on now.
I am working on more books for the Bad Fairy Adventure series! And Gregory and Sammy (Gregory Green Adventure series) are always getting into trouble, too.
Title: Bad Fairy
Series: A Bad Fairy Adventure (Book One)
Author: Elaine Kaye
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Genre: Fantasy Middle Grade
Length: 66 pages
Age Range: 8-12
BLURB: Thistle Greenbud is not a bad fairy. She simply doesn't like rules, and it's just her luck that her homework is to create a new rule for the fairy handbook. But first, she has more important things to do. Like figure out how to get back at Dusty and Moss for playing tricks on her.
Before she can carry out her plan, though, disaster strikes and she finds herself working alongside the very fairies she wanted revenge on. Can they work together and trust each other, or will things go from bad to worse?
As we watch the boys, the wind picks up, making the fern lay flat, exposing us. We gasp and make a dash for the closest tree. Behind it, we huddle together.
“Boogles! A branch just hit me,” Weedy says.
The sky turns black. Wind swirls dust and leaves, and spits pebbles at us. This is not good. We have to get going now or else our payback will get blown away.
“Let’s go!” I scream and lead the group from behind the tree, but the wind makes it hard for us to move forward.
Rose and Lilly grab hands as they run, screaming, toward the creek. Lacey stumbles over a fallen twig, landing flat and hitting her face hard on the ground. When she doesn’t move, I race to her as sand and pine needles prick my skin.
I help Lacey to her feet. Luckily, she only has a few cuts on her face. A tiny bit of blood streaks down her forehead. She looks at me. Fear is bright in her eyes. She needs help. We all need help. I peer toward the creek. The boys are still there, frantically trying to lift the bag full of stones.
Shouting a warning and waving my arms, I hurry to the creek, trying to get their attention. Finally, Dusty sees me. He looks as if he’s been caught with his hand in the pixie jar.
I point to the sky and wave them to come our way. Rain starts to fall. Dusty pulls Moss from the creek. Fat drops of water pelt my head and wings as I wait for the boys to reach me.
“It must be a twisty!” Dusty screams. “We better find shelter.”
GIVEAWAY:
3 Signed Paperback Picture Books –
Pea Soup Disaster, Doctor Mom, The Missing Alphabet
Eligibility: International
Number of Winners: One
Giveaway Ends: July 1, 2020 12:00am Eastern Standard Time
Elaine Kaye is the author of A Gregory Green Adventure series. She first created Gregory Green after her son, who loved her homemade pea soup, thus inspiring the story Pea Soup Disaster. Bad Fairy is her middle grade debut and the first of A Bad Fairy Adventure series.
Kaye has worked as a library assistant and teacher’s assistant in elementary schools in the Sunshine State. She currently lives in Florida, but she has called Michigan; Honolulu, Hawaii; and Okinawa, Japan home. She is a grandmother of three boys.
“Damn it, Gracie! Don’t yell. What’s your hurry? We’re only going down the road.”
“I know, but I don’t want to make a bad impression.”
“Bullshit! Bad impression, in that outfit?” Bill smirked.
“What? What’s wrong?” She looked at her reflection in the refrigerator. “It’s a simple summer dress. We’re going to a barbecue, not a black-tie affair.”
“You look like a whore.”
Grace cringed and mumbled. “You say that no matter what I wear.” Then a bit louder, she added, “I see you added jealousy to your outfit. Stuff it! Let’s go.”
Bill grabbed her by the wrist and wrenched, almost dislocating her left arm.
“Ouch.” She tried to pull away.
He yanked again, pulling her close. His face next to hers. “Go change! Put on something decent!” He let go of her. “NOW!”
Grace stiffened her back but hurried from the room. Tears raced down her cheek. She yanked the dress off, wiped her tears, blew her nose, and threw the new outfit in the trash. She grabbed a conservative pair of black Capris and an oversized blouse. Heaven forbid she show any curves. Flat sandals and the look was complete.
When she walked back into the kitchen, Bill nodded. “That’s better!”
*****
Dinner went well, and the conversation flowed, but so did the beer. Kay’s husband, Ernie, was a friendly guy, and he and Bill seemed to connect. But the more beer they drank, the worse the conversation got.
Grace and Kay cleared the food and dishes and drank a glass of wine in the kitchen while the boys got their boast on. During their conversation, Bill walked in and came up behind her. He hugged her tightly. His hands slid under her blouse for a quick feel. Grace tried to brush him off, making him more persistent. “Come on, babe, just want some of that brown sugar!”
Embarrassed but not willing to cause a scene, Grace turned to kiss him.
Ernie walked in. “Hey, you two, get a room,” he laughed. “Ready to go?”
“Always,” Bill said. “We’re going for more beer,” he told Grace, “don’t wait up.”
“And some fun,” Ernie said as he opened the basement door and grabbed two bats: one metal, one wood.
“You’re going to play ball at night?” Grace said.
Ernie laughed. “Yup, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” He swung the bat, barely touching Bill on the shoulder. They walked out laughing.
Grace looked to Kay, who just shrugged.
“You want more wine?” Kay asked.
“No, I’m exhausted. I just want to go home and take a nice long, hot bath.”
“That sounds wonderful! I think I’ll join you.” The women laughed as Kay walked Grace to the door.
*****
Grace awoke at six the next morning and realized that Bill hadn’t come home, again. Pissed, she went to the kitchen for coffee. “This is it. I’m leaving,” she said to no one as she pulled a mug from the dishwasher.
She’d been contemplating it for a long time, well, not that long. They’d only been married for six months, but she knew Bill’s womanizing and abuse would only get worse. She had to get out before a child made going impossible. Her problem, no money, and no car, but a bus ticket wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. She went back to her room to pack.
An hour later, packed, dressed, and ready to call a cab, Kay knocked on the door.
Kay looked flustered. “I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?” Grace said and ushered her in.
“I just got Ernie out of jail.”
“And Bill?”
“I’m sorry, Grace. He’s in the hospital.”
“What? “Grace backed up. “No one called. What hospital? What happened?” Panic began to build.
Kay took her by the arm and led her to the living room. “It’s all right. I promise. Just sit down, and I’ll explain.” Kay quickly poured a small glass of brandy and handed it to Grace.
Grace nodded and took several deep breaths, then sipped the drink. “I’m okay. Just please tell me what’s going on.”
“Last night, when Ernie said they were going out to play baseball, he meant something else.”
“What?’
“There’s this game the guys play. But instead of hitting baseballs, they hit…” She hesitated, rubbed her hands together, and lowered her head.
Grace reached out and touched her knee. “What? What is it?”
“They drive around town and swat at the black people on the streets.”
Grace stood. “What? Oh, my God! What are you saying?”
“Ernie’s family has done it for years. They see a lone black person, drive up close, try to get their attention, maybe ask for directions. When the guy leans in, they swat him with the bat and drive away.”
“This can’t be true. You’ve got to be kidding.” Grace stood but was so shocked she could only pace the small room. Her hands in constant movement.
“Why? How? And they did this last night?”
“Yes, but the guy they hit had a gun. He shot Bill.”
“Bill was shot?” Grace felt as though she were in a nightmare.
Kay nodded. “I’m sorry. Ernie told the police Bill was a hitchhiker that he thought was coming from a baseball game. He told them the baseball bats belonged to Bill. That he didn’t even know his name. That’s why no one called you. Ernie threw Bill’s wallet away before the police arrived.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
“If Bill dies…”
“Dies? He’s that bad?”
She ran to the kitchen to get her purse and keys. “Take me to the hospital.”
“I can’t. Ernie won’t let me. Listen, Grace. I know Bill’s abused you. You told me yourself you’ve thought of leaving him. All I want is to save my Ernie. After all, it was Bill that swung the bat.”
“Oh my god, you expect me to lie for your racist husband while my racist husband is on the brink of death. No way, there is no damn way!”
Grace started to cry, then shake. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t!” She sank to the floor. “Bill never showed any signs of racism.” She put her face in her hands and rethought her words. She really did not know the man. He’d swept her off her feet. How? How could I miss that and his penchant for abuse? “Oh god. Oh god,” she said repeatedly. All she could see was her mother’s face. She even heard her words. “Mixed marriages are trouble. Nothing but trouble.”
Kay sat down beside her and hugged her close. “I know it’s a shock. It was for me too, but despite it, I love Ernie. He’s my everything,” she said, her voice coated with tears. Defeated, Kay moved to the wet bar.
“Listen, you don’t have to do a thing. I’ll think of something else.” She poured more brandy and handed Grace the liquor. “Drink all of it. It’ll settle your nerves. Then we’ll talk calmly. I’ll make sure you get to the hospital.” She watched Grace down the potent liquor.
*****
Kay watched the movers haul boxes and furniture from Bill and Grace’s house.
Ernie came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. He pulled her close. “What would I do without you?”
She smiled. “You’d have ended up on death row ten years ago. You do the job of the righteous, and I do the clean up.”
“I still can’t believe they bought that story. But leaving Bill’s car empty of gas in that lot and with several baseballs inside, convinced them I’d picked him up as I said.” He kissed her. “You are my guardian angel.”
“And don’t forget, putting her body in that hot tub screwed up their chances to determine the time of death. Now they believe Bill killed his wife too.”
“We’re just lucky he died before regaining consciousness. Talk about the perfect crime!”
A critical moment in history is happening before our eyes. This story was written because I can’t stay silent. I may not have the right to speak, but I want to add my voice to those fighting for justice. Writing is one way I can do that. And while this is fiction, the story is based on reality.
I learned of this sick game. Yes, it was described as a game. I learned about it when I lived in Valdosta, Georgia. I heard it from the mouth of one of the players.
Was he describing an Urban Legend/Nightmare? I have no proof one way or the other. All I know is that the man’s bragging scarred my soul, just as the scene of George Floyd’s murder did.
But I believe that change is coming. Maybe I’m being idealistic, even naïve, but my broken heart says otherwise.
****
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