Hi Isabel!
I’m taking a break from a marathon of cookie baking to sit down and chat
with you today. Before we begin, let me
share the recipe I just finished, it’s one of my favorites because it’s super
easy, completely versatile and most importantly, yummy! These cookies look like you went to a lot of
fuss and trouble, but they’re fast and easy.
2 Devils food cake mixes (18 ¼ oz each)
4 eggs lightly beaten
2/3 cup vegetable oil
- Beat cake mix, eggs and oil to form a very stiff dough. Roll into one inch balls, flatten slightly and bake at 350 degrees for about 8-10 minutes or until a slight indentation remains when lightly touched. Cool completely.
- When the cookies are cool, spread cream cheese frosting (I cheat and buy a can from the grocery store when I’m in a hurry, but you can make your own) generously on one cookie and top with another.
What I love about this recipe is you can use any
cake mix and frosting combination you want, the possibilities are endless. I love to add peppermint flavoring to the
frosting and tint it pink or green when I make the chocolate cookies. Today I used red velvet cake mix and cream
cheese frosting. Yum!! They’re going to
look so pretty on my cookie trays next week!
These sound delicious and very easy to make, thanks for sharing!
Okay, on with the interview!
1.
At any given time do you work on
only one story at a time and maybe plot out the next one or are there many
ideas racing around your head?
LOL I am the living
definition of the phrase “so many stories, so little time.” Usually right around the time I hit the
halfway point with a story, another idea that’s been in the back of my mind
will start coming together and begging me to write it. In the past when I’ve resisted the temptation
to at least jot down a few words from story #2, I’ve regretted it because when
the time finally comes that I can work on it, my fickle muse won’t come out and
play anymore LOL. I find when I allow
myself to take a break from one story and start another, it helps me to work
out the bugs and kinks and things that were bothering me in story #1 so that when
I return to it, I’m fresher and more focused.
Sometimes the second story comes at me so strong it ends up being the
one I finish first.
2. Is there a genre
you haven't written in but would like to? Or wish you could write in?
Well being a
paranoid person with an overactive imagination LOL, I actually get a lot of
romantic suspense ideas. But the time it
would take to learn police or other law enforcement protocol and procedure —
and learn how to spin a good suspense story…I don’t know where I’d find the
time anytime soon—after all I’ve spent 20+ years researching American history
and still don’t feel I know it as well as I’d like, LOL. Never say never, though.
3. Do you add an
element of romantic suspense in your stories? If so, how difficult is it to
maintain the integrity of the mystery?
A lot of historical
romances have some element of suspense and if I’m writing a story that does, I
try not to weave a web that’s too tangled.
If my readers are anything like me, they know “who done it” long before
they get to the page where that information is revealed anyway. I could never outsmart them, so I don’t try
to (does that make me an underachiever? LOL).
For me the fun is taking the reader on the journey with me while the
characters figure it out.
4. Say you have
unlimited funds: What kind of writing office/cottage would you create for
yourself?
Oh I’d love a
little thatched cottage in the woods. I live near a wooded area and there’s
something very soothing about being surrounded by the sounds of nature and lots
of trees and greenery. My dog and I have
pretty much a daily routine of walking in the woods. It never fails to quiet my mind—at least for
a little while. If I could I’d live right smack dab in the middle of wherever
it is that the deer and the antelope (and the bunnies and the chipmunks) play LOL.
5. If you could
turn your novel into a TV show, which novel or series would you do? Where would
it be set? Network TV (ABC, NBC, CBS), Cable (AMC, BBC, Lifetime) or Premium
Cable (HBO, Showtime, Starz)?
Oh nothing
recharges my battery like sitting down to watch one of those great romantic
Hallmark channel movies, especially this time of year. Small Town Christmas practically begs to be
on the Hallmark channel during the holidays LOL and I think The Model Man would
be fun, too. I’m not sure they do
historical movies, though, I’ve only seen a few, but I’d be all for having Wild
Texas Wind as a movie, too.
6. Finally, tell us
about your latest release!
My latest release
is my first venture into something a little paranormal. It’s a time travel romance called This Moment in Time. My hero buys an abandoned old house with every intention of tearing it
down—until he decides to spend a night there and runs into a beautiful woman in
the upstairs bedroom. At first he thinks
she’s a ghost but he soon realizes somehow, he crosses a threshold to another
time when he enters that room. He soon
learns she’s a famous spy from the Civil War era who once lived in the house…
he also learns she’s about to be discovered and executed. If he saves her will it alter history—or
should he sacrifice life in his own century to be with her for what little time
she has left?
Blurb:
Not even captivity
can sway Southern widow Josette Beaumont from spying for the Confederacy. Under
the nose of the Union army, she willingly risks her life to pass information to
her sources. Until a stranger appears in her bedroom one day with a cryptic message:
stop spying or you'll die. She has no reason to believe his warnings about the
future, but his company is the only solace in her long days of imprisonment and
his friendship quickly comes to mean so much more. If only she could make the
sacrifice he asks of her...
To
hell with history, real estate mogul Jamie D'Alessandro has no intention of
saving the historic mansion he's purchased, even if it is the home of a famous
Confederate spy. But when he steps into an upstairs bedroom of the old house,
time suddenly shifts, bringing him face to face with a very beautiful and irate
Southern lady. Against his will he's drawn into her cause--to save the
Confederacy. But Jamie has a cause of his own. According to his research the
lady spy has only days to live. Should he change history to save the woman he
loves--or sacrifice life in his own century to be with her for This Moment in
Time?
Exceprt:
By the
dim glow of propane lanterns, Jamie unrolled the sleeping bag and spread it on
the floor. His flight had arrived late, and he’d gotten lost on the way to the
house. It was dusk by the time he arrived. He’d have to wait until morning to
fully explore Beaumont House and the grounds around it.
He rubbed
his arms against the chill of the spring night. Fortunately, he’d never minded
roughing it. In fact, sitting here in this abandoned house, with only the sound
of his own breathing for company, he was more content than he’d ever been in
his multi-level New York penthouse. No servants tiptoeing about, no cell phone
buzzing, no financial advisors dropping by for hours-long discussions.
Maybe
he’d have a look around before night fully took over the house. He hadn’t
actually stepped foot inside before, had merely relied on the findings of his
reconstruction team. But now, flashlight in hand, the narrow beam of light lit
upon yellowed paint, peeling wallpaper and architectural detail the likes of
which were rarely seen these days. He stepped closer, studying the intricate
molding on the fireplace and ran his fingers along the smooth, cold surface. It
would need more than stripping and refinishing to restore it, but the wood felt
solid beneath his fingertips.
Stepping
back, he drew the light up to reveal the crown molding along the ceiling. He’d
need a ladder and full daylight to get a good look at it, but the idea of
working with his hands again—getting them dirty, as Len said—filled him with an
excitement that renewed his spirit in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.
The light
glinted off the top of a framed painting. He lowered the beam, illuminating the
portrait. A woman with dark hair and smoldering dark eyes. A modest
hint—downright puritan by today’s standards—of pale bosom peeked over the
ruffled bodice of a white dress. Somehow that hint of creamy flesh seemed more
forbidden—sexier — than any modern woman he’d ever seen. There was something
prim and ladylike about her that made it feel wrong to stare at her like that.
Was this the famous spy? Her name escaped him, but he made a mental note to
learn more about her.
A loud
thump from the second floor caught his attention. His heart leaped to his
throat, and for a moment, he felt like a scared kid in a haunted house. He
shook his head, chuckling at himself. The house had been locked up tight since
the renovation team had come through to inspect it, there was no one around.
Probably a rodent or critter had gotten inside. Still, he had no intention of
spending the night listening to the scratching and thumping of a wild animal.
He shone
the flashlight ahead of him until he found the winding, elegant staircase that
led to the second floor. Common sense warned him not to trust the stairs; the
old house was full of wood rot. But curiosity got the better of him and he
tested the first step before putting his full weight on it, and the next, and
the next. Fully expecting to go through the boards and land on his ass, he
continued the same tenuous journey until he reached the second floor.
Amazed
he’d actually made it, he gave a quick glance behind him, then began to move
around the second story. Shining the light upward, he saw the staircase
continued to a third floor, but wasn’t about to push his luck any further.
He
paused, waiting until he heard the scratching again. With the beam of light at
his feet to illuminate the floor, he took slow, cautious steps, following the
sound. As he drew closer to the sound he paused, wondering if he should have
brought something for protection. What if the creature was rabid?
Stepping
fully into the room where he’d heard the noises, he paused to appreciate the
huge windows that overlooked the valley. They didn’t make houses like this
anymore, and while he had nothing but the utmost appreciation for the trappings
of modern society, he had to admit, there was something about the way they
built things a couple of centuries ago. They didn’t need high tech gadgets and
expensive fabrics to scream wealth and elegance. It was right here in the
architecture.
Forgetting
himself for a moment, he stepped across the room. The loud groan of a
floorboard caused him to freeze, wondering if the floor could support him. The
banging now came from behind him. Heart suddenly pounding, he whirled. A
door—to a closet, perhaps?— rattled insistently. He swallowed. He’d never
believed in ghosts, had laughed off any notion that they existed. So what the
hell was this?
As he
stood there, a cold draft of air swirled about his feet. Wasn’t it supposed to
get really cold when a ghost appeared? No, no, he wouldn’t allow his
imagination to take him there. Dammit, he was James D’Alessandro III; he’d
never allowed anyone or anything to intimidate him. It would take more than an
abandoned old house to spook him.
On silent
feet, he crossed the room to the door, mentally counting—one, two… three. He yanked it open. His breath
left him in a relieved exhale. Nothing stood behind it. The cold breeze
continued, whistling through a broken window. The branch of a tree had long
since grown inside and as the wind blew, it scratched against the wall. A gust
must have blown the door shut; that was probably the bang he’d heard from
downstairs.
He took
another deep breath to help slow his heart rate. While he was out gathering
tools tomorrow, he’d have to get something to put over the window. He’d never
get any rest with that door thumping all night long, and the air blowing inside
would only make the house colder.
Chuckling
at his own ridiculous fear, he started to turn. A voice—not the howling of the
wind this time— and the sudden sensation of warmth at his back stilled him.
“Honestly,
Sebastian, he can’t keep me locked up here much longer. I’ll go mad.”
A woman?
She sounded calm, perhaps a little angry.
“Drat it,
now I’ve lost count.” A heavy sigh followed. “The last I remember was twenty
strokes, I’ll have to start over from there.”
Heart
back in his throat, he turned just enough to glance over his shoulder. The
first thing to greet him were the windows—the very same windows he’d admired
moments ago. Only they were now adorned with white lace. To the left, a warm
fire crackled in the fireplace, casting a golden glow across the gleaming
hardwood floor. And directly in front of him, a dark gray cat lay sprawled
across an ornate four poster bed, calmly grooming itself. It paused, tongue in
mid stroke and stared up at him with curious green eyes.
“Twenty
one. Twenty two. Twenty…”
Swallowing,
he forced his gaze from the cat to the source of the voice. A woman sat at a
vanity, tugging a brush through long, dark hair. In the mirror, he watched as
her gaze moved from her reflection. To him. She let out a gasp. The brush fell
from her hand. She whirled on her seat to face him.
“Wh—who
are you?”
She could see him!
Yeah, you're interested, aren't you! Where to buy This Moment in Time:
