My author this month is the lovely Mardi Maxwell, who has a love of
old sci-fi movies like me! J Over to you…
Thank you, Jen. What can I say? Writing
about myself is the hardest thing to do mostly because I'm afraid people will
be disappointed when they find out I'm just a regular person like everyone
else…I just happen to be able to write books. I'm lucky enough to have people
who like to read them and believe me I'm grateful for that.
So, I'm the youngest of five children
which means I was mostly left on my own as my older siblings had worn our
parents out by the time I came along. They paired up, two boys and two girls,
which left me to bond with all the pets and strays I brought home including a
baby skunk, a cat, several dogs and of course the requisite hamsters. Oh, and
don't forget the farm girl's favorite animal, my horse.
Our farm was out in the middle of
nowhere and we didn't get very many TV channels and only one radio channel so
reading and playing outside were my only options. I read outside! J
I read everything I could get my hands on and then I wrote books in my head
while I watched the clouds drift by.
I was and still am a great fan of black
and white horror and sci-fi movies. When I was a kid they were shown on Friday
nights on the only channel we got on a regular basis. They, along with the
books I read, helped form a great imagination filled with fictional characters
and fantastic landscapes. Back then I let the stories go but now I write them
down and send them out there for others to read.
About me:
What’s your guiltiest pleasure?
Eating sliced frozen strawberries. I love them and
can't seem to get enough of them. I sprinkle a little sugar on them and eat
them frozen. Yum!
(ooo, nice!)
What do you do when you’re not
writing?
I spend time with my family and friends. I read
zombie novels (my not-so-secret addiction) and I like to travel around and see
what's going on in the world. Most of my books are plotted while I'm driving.
One thing about yourself you would
like to change?
I wish I was less reserved. Really! When I first
meet people I'm reserved until I get to know them and then I'm an extrovert. I
just wish I could be one of those "out there" people.
(know what you mean. It has taken me half my life to gain self
esteem and confidence – now people can’t shut me up!)
Your Writing
Tell us about your latest book.
Tell us about your latest book.
Soren's Bondmate, the 3rd book in the
Zarronian Warriors series. For those of you who have read the first two books
this one is about Thorn Valanson's twin brother, Soren Valanson. Poor Soren is
a level six warrior. That means his chances of finding a compatible mate is
zero. Lucky for him one finds him, and things heat up from there.
What makes a great hero?
I like my characters to evolve as people. My heroes
are always tough alpha males who think they know what they want and how to get
it. They're jerks in some ways although I always try to give them some
redeeming qualities. What changes the hero is the heroine and her love for him.
What are you currently working on, or
what’s on the horizon?
Book four in the Zarronian Warriors series, Ronin's
Bondmate, is up next. By the time you read this Soren's Bondmate should be
published.
Quick Fire round
Tall skinny or short but muscular? Interesting.
I always go for the man with the most to say.
Hawaii or Norway? Hmm,
maybe Norway. I like the seasons to change.
Turquoise or mauve?
Turquoise
A juicy grilled steak with garlic
butter or vanilla & raspberry cheesecake with white chocolate? Meat,
every time.
Historical or sci-fi movie? Both.
George Clooney or Brad Pitt? Brad
Pitt although I'd rather go for Sean Connery, Russell Crowe, the young and
beautiful Robert Redford, Marlon Brando, or Rock Hudson. (Yum – we are
clearly on the same wavelength….)
Flogging or paddling? Soft
flogging.
Bouquet of roses or bunch of wild
flowers? I grow roses so wild flowers.
Finally
Links of how fans can find you on the
internet/buy your books?
And here is an excerpt from Soren's Bondmate:
Skye
leaned against the cool wall of her habitat while she watched the familiar but
dreary terrain of her sanctuary. Loneliness ate away at her soul while the need
to find a mate burned through her veins increasing the beat of her heart and
the rhythm of her breathes. With every cycle that passed she felt herself
weakening and had to fight to keep from giving into the hopelessness that
filled her. Like many Krystali enchantresses before her she would die young
without a mate to love and sustain her. She'd never be the mother of a strong
son, or a precious daughter who would carry on her line. Only her twin brother,
Berit, would honor her memory but eventually she'd be forgotten. As was right,
she thought, then said, "Screw that. I don't want to be forgotten. I want
to live."
Catching
her reflection in the krystal window she stared at the black tattoo that
surrounded her left eye. The damn thing marked her as a krystal enchantress and
was the reason she lived alone and isolated on Tundra. Seeing it brought back
memories of the times she tried to remove it by scrubbing her skin until it was
raw and bloody. Of course when it healed the mark had always remained.
A
small sigh of resignation coated the krystal with a haze of fog and she cursed
the males who kept trying to abduct her but especially she cursed Merykh of
Cymerryn. After his third attempt her brother, Berit, had hidden her on this
frozen planet while he searched for a mate for her.
"Merykh,
you bastard," she muttered while she drew a crude gesture in the fog on
the window. "It isn’t my fault you're a disgusting bastard."
With a
slight shudder she wished again that she'd been born a krystal healer or even a
krystal conjurer. They didn't have this much trouble finding a mate which meant
they didn't die young the way she would.
On
Krystali a healer could heal common injuries or illnesses but she couldn't
conjure white krystal. A krystal conjurer could conjure white krystal for any
male to throw as a weapon. She could also heal a wound made by white krystal or
manipulate it into needed items such as shelters, clothing and food.
She
was the rarest of the rare. She could do everything a healer or conjurer could
do but she could also conjure dark krystal, a substance so deadly that the
smallest shard would kill a person within micro-units. If she'd been able to
find a mate she would've given him the ability to cast dark krystal. That
ability alone would've made him one of the most invincible and powerful
warriors in the galaxy, perhaps in the universe.
She
drew a circle around the crude drawing then fed up with herself she mumbled,
"Stop being pathetic." The action drew an involuntary smile from her.
With a laugh she began to turn away when a silver object falling from the sky
at an angle caught her attention. Dark smoke trailed behind it as it seemed to
slow down just before it hit the middle of a frozen lake, skidded across the
surface and crashed into the shore. A geyser of ice flew into the air but she
didn't see it settle as she was already scrambling into her outdoor wear. Black
leather pants, shirt and boots covered by a black hooded cloak and gloves to
protect her fingers from the freezing temperatures.
Excited,
that something was happening to break the intolerable boredom, she leapt down
the steps of her shelter to the lower level. With a sweep of her hand she
conjured a door, hurried through it and ran as fast as she could toward the
crash site. As she followed the path she thanked the gods for breaking the
monotony of her existence.
Frowning
at the memory of how everything always went wrong she ran around several large
boulders then squeezed through a crevice in the rock. When she stepped out her
boot slipped on a patch of ice and sent her tumbling down the path. A sharp
screech of pain echoed in the valley when an inconveniently placed rock at the
edge of the lake stopped her fall. Winded, she lay there for a moment then
forced herself to get up. She held her bruised side while she hobbled toward
the object unaware that several dead weeds were tangled in her braid. Finally
reaching the object, she bent over and moaned with pain while she caught her
breath.
It was
about the size of a small glider but oval in shape. She made a circuit around
it with the ice cracking with each step she took. Finally, she approached the
ship, touched it and jumped back when it wobbled then settled again. She
laughed at herself and touched it again then made a fist and tapped on it. It
sounded hallow.
Heat
rose from it filling the air with steam and forming a puddle of melting ice
beneath it. Standing back, she chewed on the tip of a gloved finger and decided
it must be laying on the door. She pushed against it and rocked it until it
rolled over and revealed another rounded and dented surface but no door.
Frustrated, knowing she was running out of time, she ran her hands over the
scorched surface and found a small area that felt different. She pressed on it
and with a hiss a section swung open revealing a cockpit filled with smoke.
Wires hung from a smashed panel sending out a shower of sparks toward the lone
occupant.
Thank you for being the latest author to sit in my interrogation chair, Mardi! I wish you lots of success with your books. Next month is the turn of Lily Harlem.
Thank you, Jennifer. I loved being interrogated by you.
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