Indie Book Fest 2015

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I’m heading to Orlando in a few weeks for Indie Book Fest. Come by and say hello!

There is a book signing on Saturday that is Open to the Public. Bring your books or buy them at the con from the authors.

Friday

9 AM Welcome

Keynote by Jana Oliver

9:30-10:15 AM Panels

1-Making Your Story Unique: Coming Up With Fresh Ideas
Melissa Lummis

Miranda Hardy

KS Thomas

Laura Stapleton

Lyssa Layne

2 -Stories For the Young At Heart (YA)
Jana Oliver

Susan Burdorf

Nadege Richards

Raine Thomas

Tricia Zoeller

Sarah Ross

10:30- 11:15 AM Panels

1-Making Your Story Orderly: How to Plot and Plan
Nadege Richards

HD Smith

Jana Oliver

Alexis Anne

Rene Folsom

2 – Stories That Spook (Paranormal)
Melissa Lummis

Stephanie Erickson

Graylin Fox <<— there I Am! 

Miranda Hardy

Tricia Zoeller

Mandie Stevens

11:30-12:15 PM Panels

1- Making Your Story Sharp (editing/proofreading)
Karen Hooper

Don Massenzio

Anna Zaires

Margo Bond Collins

Dima Zales

2 – Stories That Sizzle (adult and erotic romance)
Rene Folsom

Juli Valenti

Alexis Anne

Emma Fallon

Kristen Hope Mazzola

Lunch 12:15-1:15

1:30-2:15 PM Panels

1-Making Your Story Smexy: How to Write a Sex Scene
Abigail Lee

Julia Sykes

CJ Baty

Elise Marion

Hildie McQueen

Rene Folsom

2-Stories With Sweetness (sweet romance, including historical, con rom)
Ceci Giltenan

Laura Stapleton

Lyssa Lane

Heather Allen

Stacy Darnell

2:30-3:15 PM Panels

1- Making Your Story Pretty (formatting and covers)
Stacey Blake

C.G. Powell

Stephanie Erickson

Nadege Richards

Rene Folsom

 2-Stories That Intrigue (mysteries)
Don Massenzio

CJ Baty

Jana Oliver

Margo Bond Collins

Graylin Fox <<— Me again

Sharon Hamilton

3:30-4:15 AM Panels

1 -Making Your Story Shine (Promotion and Marketing)
Mandie Stevens

Ceci Giltenan

Julia Sykes

HD Smith

Jana Oliver

 2-Stories for a Brave New World: New Adult Lit

Amanda Jason

Michelle Soars

Kristen Hope Mazzola

N.L. Greene

Stacy Darnell

4:30-6:30 PM FAN FARE 
Come hang with your favorite authors and meet some new ones before the book signing.Enjoy some fun swag and join our fun scavenger hunt!  

***I’ve got some cool swag for you. 

Dinner On Your Own

9 – 11 PM

Gothic Romance Party <<<<—– I’m dressing up! 

Saturday

9-9:45 AM Panels

1 Stories That Make Us Laugh (humor in books)
Amanda Jason

Margo Bond Collins

KS Thomas

Don Massenzio

 2 Stories That Are Out of This World (fantasy/sci fi)
C.G. Powell

HD Smith

NL Greene

Graylin Fox <<—Wooo! 

Anna Zaires

Dima Zales

10- 10:45 AM Panels

1-Stories with Spirit: Spirituality in Fiction
Karen Hooper

Patrick Friar

Mandie Stevens

Tawdra Kandle

2-Stories with Diversity
CJ Baty

Elise Marion

Rick Chiantaretto

Hildie McQueen

SR Gibbs

Sharon Hamilton

11- 11:45 AM Panels

 1-Stories with Staying Power (serials, series)
Alexis Anne

Don Massenzio

Julia Sykes

Abigail Lee

Jana Oliver

Amanda Jason

2-Stories with Strong Women: Moving Beyond the Damsel in Distress
Tawdra Kandle

KS Smith

Megan Smith

Melissa Lummis

Juli Valenti

12- 12:45 PM Panels

1-Stories With Unforgettable Men (book boyfriends)
Hildie McQueen

Juli Valenti

Elise Marion

Patrick Friar

C. G. Powell

Lyssa Lane

2-Ad Lib My Story!

1- 2 PM – Lunch on your own

2-2:30 PM Signing Set-Up (authors only)

2:30-5 PM  Book Signing – Come chat! 

Dinner on Your Own

7 PM-Midnight

Author Hosted Parties 7- 10

“Fairytales & Happily Ever Afters” Hosted by HD Smith & Ceci Giltenan

Beach Hosted by Tawdra Kandle

Sunday –

8-9 AM  Blogger Breakfast

10- 10:45 AM

 1 – Making Your Story Blog-Friendly: Bloggers Share

TBA

 2- Making Your Story Reader Appealing: What Readers Want Authors To Know
Win a Spot!

11- 11:45 AM

  1- Ad Lib My Story Part 2
TBA

 2-My Story: What I Learned During My First Year as an Indie Author (all new authors)

Stephanie Erickson

Mindy Ruiz

SR Gibbs

Patrick Friar

Ava Branson

Lyssa Layne

Re-release of Smolder

The rights to my contemporary romantic suspense, Smolder, have been returned to me effective 5/9/15. This book, more suspense than romance, honestly Ella spends more time trying to get away from a serial killer than being romanced by Dimitri, who’s luscious. The romance is there though, and the happily ever after variety.

I’m going to send the book through a round of edits and get a new cover made. Then, Ella and Dimitri will be out there again!

 

Graylin

 

Romantic Times Convention 2014 Pictures

I had a wonderful time at the convention. This year it was held in New Orleans, LA. Our hotel sat in the French Quarter, walking distance to Jackson Square, Cafe du Monde, and Bourbon Street.

Inside were great panels with Amazing Authors:

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Kim Harrison, Larissa Ione, Kresley Cole, P.C. Cast

I stood behind Kim Harrison in line for the restaurant one day. I kept my fan girl squee to myself, just to have her reply to that post on FB telling me Guy was giving out t-shirts.

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Kim Harrison, Nalini Singh, Tiffany Reisz, and Victoria Dahl in the humor panel. My apologies to Cora Carmack, she was lovely but didn’t fit in the picture frame.

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Randi Alexander’s Swag Table, right next to Yasmine Galenorn’s. Two lovely ladies.

Shoes in the window of a Canal Street shop.

Shoes in the window of a Canal Street shop.

Alanna Coca vamping it up with a tree in Jackson Square.

Alanna Coca vamping it up with a tree in Jackson Square.

Ranae Rose and Alanna Coca with the donkey on break.

Ranae Rose and Alanna Coca with the donkey on break.

Two people who made me laugh so hard last year did it again. Catherine Bybee and Jennifer Probst discuss pantsing.

Two people who made me laugh so hard last year did it again. Catherine Bybee and Jennifer Probst discuss pantsing.

Aliyah Burke is trying to make a man pop up on her phone. Like magic.

Aliyah Burke is trying to make a man pop up on her phone. Like magic.

Kate Richards, Joanne Kenrick, and Kacey Hammel at the ball.

Kate Richards, Joanne Kenrick, and Kacey Hammel at the ball.

Rooftop pool of a hotel near by.

Rooftop pool of a hotel near by.

I took this picture looking UP from the 17th floor.

I took this picture looking UP from the 17th floor.

Alanna Coca at the booksigning.

Alanna Coca at the booksigning.

The adorable Kacey Hammel.

The adorable Kacey Hammel.

Sara Brookes hates having her picture taken. She is very nice. Please ignore her giving me a death stare.

Sara Brookes hates having her picture taken. She is very nice. Please ignore her giving me a death stare.

Email Notifications of New Releases

Amazon has a new feature on their Author page allowing you to sign up and receive email notifications whenever I release a new title. The bonus here is that since all of my titles are available on almost every format, you don’t have to buy the book from Amazon, just know that it’s out there ready-to-go!

My next release is January 18th! A hot, sexy, erotic romance with a chocolate theme…

Sign Up Here

Graylin Rane

 

 

SMOLDER Released – Excerpt Available Here!

Clinical psychologist Ellie Quinn is starting a brand new job at a hospital in Savannah. She doesn’t expect the amorous attentions of quick-tempered ex-cop Owen Mata and handsome Russian surgeon Dmitri Komarnitskaia. But choosing between the two is soon the least of her worries. When she persuades a battered woman to leave her husband, Ellie finds herself the target of a sinister serial killer, and something about the case is making Owen increasingly unstable. Only with Dmitri does she feel safe, but if she can’t bring her psychological skills to bear to catch the killer, she won’t be the only one in danger.

 

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Excerpt

 

The alarm clock woke me up, but it didn’t have a way to remind me I had moved to a new home. So after I bumped into the first two walls, I found the light switch and headed to get cleaned up. After a long, hot shower and a huge mug of coffee, I was off to start my new job. The three-mile drive to the hospital took thirty-five minutes. You can’t call it a rush hour if no one is moving faster than twenty-five miles per hour. The parking deck was nearly empty, so I had plenty of room to pop the trunk and pull out the boxes I needed to take to my office. The offer of help that I barely heard with my head in the trunk registered enough for me to stop and turn around. Oh, my.

Damn, he’s gorgeous.

He stood a few feet away, yet I still had to look up to find his eyes. They were the deep blue of the ocean with gold flecks that made them sparkle even in the dim light of the parking deck. His black hair was smooth and perfectly placed except for one straggler that hung down just over his brow. I wanted to reach up and run my fingers through it. He had broad shoulders and stood confidently as I let my gaze linger over his strong, lean form. His smile indicated that he was enjoying the attention. The hand he held out to me was tipped with perfectly manicured nails. I saw no wedding ring on his left hand and was relieved. My knees were weak from the brief encounter and I wanted to know more about him.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I could use an extra pair of hands. But I’m not quite sure where I’m going just yet. I only know the hallway where my office is located.”

“It is next to mine.”

His sexy Russian accent was beautiful as he spoke softly, almost in a whisper. My body responded with longing I hadn’t felt in a year. I think I swayed toward him as he spoke.

“I’m Dr. Komarnitskaia,” he added.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Ellie Quinn. Psychology.”

We shook hands and his were smooth and strong. I felt breathless and weak-kneed. As someone who talks for a living I’m rarely out of words, but looking into his eyes I had trouble finding air or words and momentarily fumbled for my reply. The last time I’d felt like that had been in high school, when my crush had asked me to move out of the way at the lockers.

“I should warn you, I’ll mangle your last name.”

He smiled and my knees buckled. I leaned back against the car for support. Reaching behind me, I grabbed the edge of the trunk and tried to make it look intentional. His eyes sparkled in a way that told me he’d noticed, but he didn’t mention it.

“You can just call me Dr. K. Everyone does. I’m a critical care surgeon.”

That smile could sell anything.

“Okay, Dr. K it is, then.” I smiled up at him and he winked at me.

With my box in his hands, we left the parking deck and he used his access card to get us through the doctors’ entrance. I have to admit it felt a little cool to use that door. I’m not big on superficial things, but I earned this degree and I’m glad there are perks that go with it.

As he stood waiting for me to go through the door he held, I got a very good look at him. He stood at least six feet tall and his black hair brushed the top of his collar. He was tall, with a straight back, as his short black hair brushed the top of his collar, his hips barely moved. There was an easy grace to his movements. It reminded me of an old karate teacher I’d had, who moved carefully yet made it look casual and unimposing. People in the hallways got out of his way and he made the long walk effortlessly. I had to move fast to keep up with him, so I had to catch my breath when we got to my office door.

My nameplate was already there on the wall. Human resources had given me the keys when I was last there, so I fished them out of my pocket and opened the door. Dr. K turned the lights on, and I was impressed.

A full-sized waiting room with leather furniture, toy boxes for the kids, a flat-screen TV on the wall and a bookcase. It all fit easily within the space. The door at the back was to my private office and I headed that way. The smell of oak hit me when I walked into the room. Bookshelves lined the right wall and a mahogany desk took up one-third of the floor space. The back wall was half-windowed and looked out over a courtyard. The fountain looked as if it hadn’t worked in decades, but it was peaceful. Ivy covered the wide base and stretched up to wind around the three tiers that now sprouted clover instead of water. Birds hovered around the top as if they were waiting for flowers to bloom. I placed my purse on the desk and turned to find Dr. K staring at me from the door.

“Thank you for your help—you can place the box on the desk and I’ll get to it when I get back from orientation.” I smiled at him, the best one I could muster given that my stomach was full of nervous butterflies.

“I’m just to the left on the hallway—feel free to stop by anytime,” he said as he put the box down and headed for the door. “Anytime.”

I watched his tall, sexy form leave the room before I turned to grab a notebook and pen and headed to the conference room for orientation. I don’t know who came up with the concept of orientation, but they should have to pay dearly for it. I could have read the entire manual in an hour, but instead I spent a whole Friday listening to hospital board members blow smoke up our butts about the great work they did, how wonderful they were, and the contributions they’d made to get onto the board. I’m not much for blowing your own horn, so these people made me want to find the pharmacy, and quick.

The lunch was the standard conference sandwich with soggy bread, chewy ham, and stale potato chips. At least there was plenty of coffee to rinse the taste out of my mouth.

The last presenter was a former detective from Atlanta. He was now the head of hospital security. If you built a stereotype for compact and powerful, it would be Security Chief Owen Mata. From where I sat, he looked about five feet ten, dressed casually in slacks and a polo shirt that accentuated his bodybuilder’s form. His blue eyes looked angry when he talked about safety, almost as if he took it personally when people didn’t follow the rules. His light-brown hair was unruly, with curls that poked out each time he ran his hand over his head.

Damn, I need help. Or a very long bath with a toy.

I would never remember what he said, but I made sure to write down his office number and location. In my business, it always helped to know security. I’d been threatened and shoved, never needed more than a few moments to calm someone down, but I couldn’t take chances. Not everyone admitted to the hospital was honest about his or her medications, and it would only take one sudden onset of psychosis to get hurt. Rarely happened, but I was careful.

Chief Mata smiled at me as he left the room. The orientation ended and I got up to leave. As I waited to get out of my row of chairs, I was caught between two people who were determined to ignore the fact I was standing between them while they tried to hug around me. A lovely blonde woman showed up with a smile just in time to offer me her hand and get me out of the way.

“That was close,” I said to my rescuer.

“They were about to smoosh you. Nice to meet you—I’m Lee. I’ll be your assistant.”

Her accent was evident but I couldn’t place it. She was used to this and before I could ask, she said, “I’m Welsh.”

I didn’t remember any mention of an assistant. “I’m sorry, Lee. I don’t remember that part of the deal. Although I’ll happily accept your assistance.”

“It was a last-minute decision. The board decided their one staff psychologist would need to spend more time with patients than handling paperwork and answering phones. So they moved me over from the human resources office today.”

“Thanks, Lee.” I walked at her side back to my office suite. She unlocked the door and I noticed a small office I’d missed earlier, tucked to the left as we walked in. It was just large enough for a computer desk and phone, but with a door to shut out the noise if needed. She had a perfect view of the waiting room with a glass partition for privacy.

“Assistant under glass.”

“Exactly.”

I blushed. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“It’s okay, the same thought occurred to me.” She laughed and the tension eased.

“Are they any patients I need to see today?” I looked at the pile of paperwork on her desk.

“Not today. Monday, you have a full day, and I’ll try to get you out of the hospital tour they scheduled for some time next week.”

“They? As in the lady with the perfume smell?”

“Stench—you mean stench.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

She smiled. “Yes, she set you up for the standard first week, but forgot the doctors that requested a staff psychologist had a list of people they wanted seen as soon as possible.”

I walked down the hallway past our kitchenette to my office and grabbed my purse. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She shut the door and locked it behind us. “See you on Monday.”

“See you.”

The drive home was slow, so I got a chance to check out the stores on the way. I still had to unpack and get settled over the weekend. I put the coffee on as soon as I got home and could hear it brewing as I unpacked. I left the garage door open as I unloaded the moving truck. One of my neighbors had been nice enough when I arrived to help me unlatch my car from the back trailer hitch. A local moving company had offered to pick up the truck and car trailer for a small fee as long as I was sure it was empty when they showed up.

The house was small, with a central hallway that ran from the front door to the kitchen at the back. With two bedrooms off to the left, I left the front one as a guest bedroom and took the back room for myself. A small hall ran between the rooms and opened into the garage. I’d rented the house mostly furnished, so I only needed to move in personal belongings and clothes. I’d brought my own couch and a couple of chairs for the den area, which was huge, with a beamed wooden ceiling, hardwood floors and a fireplace I could have roasted a small pig in. My boxes were all labeled by room and contents, so all I had to do was drop them right where they would need to be unpacked.

The last trip up the driveway would have burned my lungs if the air hadn’t been wetter than a damp rag. My new house was cozy and packed with boxes. The last load went into the bathroom. The smell of coffee beckoned me into the kitchen from the back of the small cabin that was mine for at least the next year. I grabbed my travel mug and filled it, then topped it off with enough creamer and sugar to make syrup.

Ahhh. Now it feels like home.

The cable guy had come by earlier while I unpacked the car, and now the TV was on a local news channel. I’d found it was always easier to handle the local cheesy commercials on mute for the first few weeks.

Oh, good—a car commercial with a goat. That makes perfect sense.

The couch fitted along the wall in front of the fireplace, the television sat in the corner, and just off to my left, the sunroom had a view of the marsh. I still hadn’t got an answer about why the pool has a glass house over it. I would have thought a greenhouse was not what you wanted in a Savannah summer. I curled my short legs under me and pulled the ponytail holder out of my shoulder-length, blonde hair. It took boxes of hair color now to keep the natural look I’d hated as a kid, and it went well with my hazel eyes.

I was looking forward to my first official week as a hospital psychologist. Years of training were about to be put to the test and I found myself excited and nervous. Next week, the disgustingly cheery human resources woman would try to parade me around the hospital, and I wanted to avoid that at all costs.

She’d been dressed like a “proper” southern woman. I’d been southern my whole life and still didn’t know why that meant polyester clothing, helmet hair and enough perfume to choke the unconscious man on the stretcher in the elevator with us. Her accent had been syrup-southern, the one that women in the south put on when they don’t like you and are pretending to be polite. I hated that sound. I always looked for the knife.

Outside, the sunset cast an orange glow on the river that wound around the island. The trees glowed as the sun changed positions.

This is a view I could get used to.

The silence settled my mind after yesterday’s four-hour drive to get there from Atlanta. This would be my first official job after years of training and school. A text message popped up on my phone. “Are you there yet?” from my father. I let him know I’d arrived and would call him as I’d got more settled.

My brain started to close down for the night and I knew there was no fighting it, so I got up and shuffled off to bed.

On Saturday, I got the majority of the furniture rearranged. Just as I started to tackle some large boxes, my father called.

“Yes, Dad?”

“You get settled yet?”

“I’m working on it. It’s gorgeous here.”

“How was orientation?” he teased.

He’d been through similar painful days. “It was all a blur after the smoking-hot cop started talking.”

“Here’s your brother.”

My brother got on the line.

“What did you say to him? He’s laughing. “

“I told him a sexy cop talked at orientation and took away my ability to think.”

“Oh geez, El. Glad you’re safe. I’m taking Dad out to dinner now—just wanted to check in.”

“Thanks, Josh. “

I managed most of the boxes before exhaustion forced me to sleep. The next morning, I woke up with aches and pains in new places from the move. I stood in the sunroom watching nature until the coffee alarm went off. Twenty minutes later, I was in an old wooden deck chair in my backyard, staring at the same view. It was only eight a.m., but the air was already getting thick. Still, it was a very peaceful and calming view. It was nice to know I’d have a place to shed stress after long days at work. My cabin stood at the end of the street, so the peace and quiet should last until afternoon when the boats started to go by. Very little moved on Sundays in the south until church and brunch had concluded.

I treasured the silence because I knew the next day it would end. This was a career that followed you home.. Every moment stolen was appreciated. Hospital psychology was a challenging career. Every day was spent going from room to room to find out what had happened. Asking questions like, why did you try to kill yourself? Do you remember the car wreck? Just how much alcohol did you drink last night? And my personal favorite, tell me again how that got in your ass? Those answers were always the most creative.

The lies—oh my, the lies people tell.

The minutes ticked by slowly as I sat there and watched. A couple of early boats went by close enough for them to wave to me, but far enough away to allow me my privacy. The real estate agent hadn’t understood why I insisted on isolation. Some days after work, I didn’t want to have another conversation. I listened and talked for a living, so silence was my best companion at home. My mute button was the most used one on the remote control.

The need for a refill drove me back inside and the piled-up boxes pushed the responsibility button in my head. So a quick shower and change into jeans and an old T-shirt led straight to unpacking my things. I hung the picture of my parents, the last one taken before Mom died, up in the spare bedroom.

A late afternoon lunch disappeared in a hurry as I moved through the kitchen. My bedroom and bathroom were last. I unpacked the rest of the boxes, hung the clothes, and arranged all the knick-knacks.

Monday morning came fast. The local a.m. news tried to lift spirits with promises of cooler temperatures just as soon as September arrived in a week. I headed for my first full day of work hoping nothing would go wrong. In my business, chaos was the normal order of things, but there were ways for that to get out of control. I also found my mind drifting to the sparkling blue eyes of a certain Russian surgeon. I wondered how often I would see him in the hallways. Given my body’s reaction to him on Friday, I might want to walk close to the walls just in case I needed to lean against something. Swooning was not my normal reaction, but something about Dr. K had me wondering if my office had soundproofing. My face flushed as I parked my car, but he wasn’t there. The office door stood open and Lee was sitting at her desk when I arrived. She even had a coffee from the cafeteria on my desk waiting for me.

She’s going to spoil me.

I sat at my desk just as she walked in with a printed list of patients, sorted by urgency and then room number.

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem. The top three you’ll want to see this morning. They aren’t more urgent than the rest, but the requesting doctor will call all afternoon if he doesn’t see your note in the chart by lunch.”

“Okay, I’ll start there.”

A new lab coat hung on the back of the door. I had missed it until Lee pulled it down and handed it to me.

“This arrived earlier today. It was embroidered locally, so if anything is wrong, let me know and I’ll get it changed.”

“Dr. Ellie Quinn” was engraved on the first line, with “Psychology” on the second line. “Nope, it’s fine.”

“Off you go.” She pushed me toward the door.

I reached back to get my coffee cup and just as I turned to the door, Dr. K walked in.

“Good morning, Dr. Quinn.”

“Good morning, Dr. K.” His smile made me shiver.

“I’ll escort you to your first patients.”

“Looks as if I start on the sixth floor today,” I said.

I tried to keep up with his long strides as we made our way to the elevator down the hall. I wasn’t entirely sure my shortness of breath was due to the increased speed.

I think I heard Lee laugh as we left the office. I’d have to ask her about Dr. K at lunch, and about Chief Mata—a sexy surgeon on one hand and the obvious bad-boy former detective on the other. The job looked very good from here—very good indeed.

The elevator opened and that unmistakable hospital smell hit me in the face. It was a cross between body odor, disinfectant and over-processed air. We rode in silence to the sixth floor. He kept smiling at me and I wasn’t sure my words would come out correctly, seeing as my knees were knocking. His cologne had a warm smell to it, a little musk with amber, a scent made me think of the woods right after a rain, and I wanted to lean into his neck and breathe deeply. He smelled so good! Dr. K nodded at me as I exited the elevator. The doors closed without him getting off. His scent hung in the air for a moment after he was gone.

I walked over to the nurses’ station and gathered the charts for my first patients. Reading doctors’ handwriting is impossible, but the nurses’ notes and case managers’ information was legible. I’d look up the patients’ full data on the computer later, when I dictated my notes, but for now I wanted to walk in with some knowledge of why they’d been admitted. I cautiously avoided the personal observations in the charts. I wanted to get a clear, objective opinion and that would be hard to do if the rest of the medical team had made up its mind and explicitly written it in the charts.

The first three were typical cases. The patient was either anxious or depressed because of their health or a long stay in the hospital. The doctors just wanted to make sure the mental health issues would resolve themselves after discharge, so they could send them home today. I checked the charts to make sure I had read all their information. It angered patients when another member of staff entered their room and they had to repeat their stories. Then I headed to find the nurse assigned to the room. The nurses on any floor are my best resource. No one knows exactly which family member shows up, who is helpful, and all the little details like the nursing staff. And they loved to talk to doctors. Appreciation for their paying attention is always well-rewarded.

I was sitting at the doctors’ station writing my notes when I heard someone stop behind me. I turned around to find the nurse manager for the floor. She looked a little concerned, but obviously hadn’t been willing to interrupt me.

“Yes?”

“Dr. Quinn?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“We have a situation down the hall. A patient’s husband came by earlier and threatened her. When the nurse told him to leave, he punched her and I had to call security.”

“They escorted him out of the building?” Please say yes. I’m not ready for that on day one.

“Yes, Doctor. But he keeps calling her and now she’s refusing treatment and demanding to be released.”

“Okay, Nurse. I’ll go talk to her.” I stood up and she pointed me to the room at the end of the hall.

Available for Preorder today!

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Graylin Fox is a multi-published author and poet. She began writing poetry in 1993 with her first poem published in 1995. In 2008, her characters demanded a larger format and she began to expand her talents into the short fiction market.

Decadent Publishing published her short story, Coming Home, in January 2011. In July of 2011 Decadent Publishing released Your Biggest Fan, a psychological thriller. Her series, Summer Fae, began with Contagion in April 2011. This series continued with Bloodlines, a novella in September 2012. The final installment of the series, The Legacy, will be out in 2013.

Her first full length novel, Smolder, about a Hospital Psychologist who finds love while dodging a killer, has a May 9, 2013 release date.

She lives in a marsh off the eastern coast with plants that struggle to survive on her “happy muse” weeks and a tiny cat runs the place. Graylin can be found at GraylinFox.com and contacted at GraylinWrites@gmail.com

 Find Graylin at her Website, Facebook, or Twitter

All Romance QR Code

This year at the Romantic Times Convention the eBooks available will be any of them on the All Romance site. So, they had us set up QR codes you can scan with free apps on your phones to take you there.

Here’s Mine: AllRomance2013Code

I’ll be selling all of my titles except SMOLDER. You can PREORDER Smolder at any time between now and it’s May 9th release date, though. And I’ll have a LOT of flyers there. 

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As you can see, I have a few things to send out and carry with me! I love this part of writing.

I hope to see you there, but even if you can’t make it the QR codes will still work for the eBook fair. That’s right! You can attend from your living room! 

See you soon!

Graylin

 

Authors Against Bullying – My Story

Bullying Kills. It destroys hearts, egos, and takes lives. Whether it’s in person or online doesn’t matter. The effect is the same.

These are my stories of being bullied, as a kid, a teenager, and an author:

I moved around a lot as a kid. My father wasn’t in the military; he was a college professor, and each time he did a presentation at a conference he’d charm someone and get job offers. I don’t remember the first three states but I do remember Buffalo (Williamsville) NY. It was freezing, our driveway was downhill and we ruined jeans every winter sliding to the bottom for the bus. I also remember my mother telling the nuns at school that I needed to stay in my class, not move up a year, because I shouldn’t leave my friends behind. Then we moved, again and I wished she’d let me advance.

I was 10 when we moved to Phoenix, AZ, my 5th different state. At a local Catholic school, I was the “new kid.” Isolated and talked about to my face but never using my name. This is a girl’s signature bullying tactic that dares you to say something and leaves room for the absurd “prove it was you we’re talking about” denial.  [A now-popular bully tactic on Twitter.] I sat up front and ignored the rest of the class. I don’t remember a single friend from there. On the playground, I always found my brother.

I learned a lot that year about  the closeness of family (my brother is still one of my best friends), and knowing who you are and remaining true to that. The next year, 5th grade, I changed to a public school. Again, the new kid. This time I was a little stronger. I didn’t care if the ‘cool’ kids liked me or paid attention to me. It hurt, but I didn’t show it. The kid who developed a crush on me was ridiculed and teased. 10 year olds can be cruel.

Then I met Karen. She lived across a 4 lane highway from me and had three older sisters. She and the other kids in our neighborhood welcomed us and we built a happy life.  Then ¾ of the way through my 7th grade year, we moved again. I adapted well to the last quarter of 7th grade, but only because I pretended I didn’t hear the jokes. My friend Karen’s mom had worked at a Hyatt Hotel. I wore one of their t-shirts to school because I missed my friend and was pulled aside. Apparently, at 12 yrs old, that made me “easy.” I ignored it so well they thought I was ‘tough’ by summer. Not true but I did nothing to change that perception.

It was mostly good until my senior year in high school. I was a nerd before it was cool. Being intelligent in school was not considered a good thing. Especially in a southeastern conference football town. I tried to blend in and hung out with some popular kids long enough to find out they had as many, if not more, insecurities than I did. Then I pulled back and just hung out with the kids I liked. I made friends, had boyfriends, acted in plays, swam competitively. There was some bullying from the local baptist kids. It was the first time I was told my Catholicism was a cult and was insulted for attending mass. I wasn’t alone and had friends from church who did their best to ignore them as well. The small parish in that town still only holds about 300 people. There’s no need to expand beyond that. The message is clear. In the south, Catholicism is not welcome.

Then the soccer team started in on me at the beginning of my senior year. Not just me, but my brother. I ignored it. It worked for me in the past so I didn’t see a need to change it. The problem? My brother couldn’t ignore it. They asked him where’d I been the night before at practice. Ya know, as I write this I realized – he never told me about it and I don’t know everything they said to him. Love him for that. A group of kids tried to get at me through my brother. Pathetic. It hurt my brother, and mom told me she had to talk to the kids parents. The backlash on the field could have been awful for him. But, in the goal was Mac, a friend and classmate of mine, the protector of the players on the field, and a huge mountain of a kid. He stood up to the bullies and told them, to their faces, to shut up.

They stopped. I learned, face down a bully and they stop.

My next experience with bullying is something you may have heard about. A couple of years ago, I sent a small indie publisher Your Biggest Fan. At the time, it was a 7080k story (14 pages). The publisher, who was polite and professional all the way through, told me it needed a lot of work. I agreed and signed the contract with one caveat, the main character’s story line remain in place. The second email from my assigned editor, who owned the pub, told me I “don’t have a plot” and then gave me a choice of Couple A or Couple B to build a 35k novella. It was Thursday night, and she gave me until Monday to pick. Instead, I contacted the publisher and asked for a new editor. She explained she was the only other person available and would require the same things. An offer to be released from the contract was included. I took it, and she returned my rights within 72 hours. The editor sent me one last email that was personally insulting and included a critique from “All seven of my children.” It foreshadowed what came next.

Was that bullying? Well the owner/editor certainly tried to bully me into changing my main plot. But I walked away, so not yet.

Three weeks later an award for “Worst Writer…” showed up in my Google alerts. It was at a review site I’d never heard of, but the message was clear. She referred to me as “Sunshine” and told me I’d need to “do the work sometime.” I ignored it. The review sites’ first follower was the publisher. I’d only had 3 stories accepted, and the other pub hadn’t assigned me an editor yet. The trail back to the owner/editor was clear in my mind.

Was it bullying? In my opinion, absolutely.

The next part gets nastier. After someone looked into the legitimacy of the review site, two more posts went up in quick succession. These included accusations of breach of privacy for readers, and, not surprisingly, the blame for all of it was placed at my feet. She even wrote a section warning publishers and agents about my lack of professionalism. BULLYING. And yes, although the site has been stripped to its bones, the offensive posts, with no basis in reality, are still there, which means the bullying continues.

The justification used on the site? “Graylin Fox had a “hissy fit” over a review.” That’s it. That’s all it took for members of the publishing community to hop up on their high horses, put on cleats, and ride over to jump up and down on my reputation until I either stopped writing or begged for mercy. All because a dog whistle went out: “author + review + hissy fit = ATTACK!”

This is where she got to stand back and watch other people take the lies she posted and bully me with them. Blogs went crazy with traffic ,and people jumped from one to the other, “like OMG something NEW came out.” A week after the bullshit started, I posted a reply. It was short, succinct, and made very clear that the accusations were crap. What I didn’t say at the time, because I didn’t think it was hard to follow – the person who made the accusations is a publisher hiding behind a review site.

Let me be clear here, if you participated in this – You bullied me.

I’ve purposely kept the names of people involved out of this post. So why bring it up?

Because the atmosphere that allowed this person to attack me without cause still exists. Seated behind a keyboard at home, a bully can make that one accusation against an author, and then watch sit back as their victim’s reputation is shredded by strangers. We all see these things fly by on twitter. This is the sole reason for this post.

I vow from today forward, I will never:

  • RT a tweet about someone not following the rules, or an author who posted a response to reviewers, or disobeyed the publishing cultures rules.
  • Write a blog post slamming an author who responded when they didn’t like a review.
  • Insult, degrade, or write nasty things about reviewers.
  • Jump into the melee when there’s nothing more than a weak thread of a rumor or unfounded accusation.
  • Tell people to “shut up and take it” because it will go away. {Passive assistance.}
  • ASSUME ANYTHING. ‘Nuff said there.

That’s my story. I ignored bullies up until I couldn’t anymore. If the only consequences to bullying are a few rogue voices being squelched by the masses, the problem won’t go away.

Graylin

My Fellow Participants: Special thanks to Mandy Roth, Michelle Pillow, and Yasmine Galenorn for this blog hop.

Mandy M. Roth
Yasmine Galenorn
Lauren Dane
Michelle M. Pillow
Kate Douglas
Shawntelle Madison 
Leah Braemel
Aaron Crocco
NJ Walters
Jax Garren
Shelli Stevens
Melissa Schroeder
Jaycee Clark
Shawna Thomas
Ella Drake
E.J. Stevens
Ashley Shaw
Jeaniene Frost
Rachel Caine
Kate Rothwell
Jackie Morse Kessler
Jaye Wells
Kate Angell
Melissa Cutler
PT Michelle
Patrice Michelle
Julie Leto
Kaz Mahoney
Cynthia D’Alba
Jesse L. Cairns
TJ Michaels
Jess Haines
Phoebe Conn
Jessa Slade
Kate Davies
Lynne Silver
Taryn Blackthorne
Margaret Daley
Alyssa Day
Aaron Dries
Lisa Whitefern
Rhyannon Byrd
Carly Phillips
Leslie Kelly
Janelle Denison
Graylin Fox
Lee McKenzie
Barbara Winkes
Harmony Evans
Mary Eason
Ann Aguirre
Lucy Monroe
Nikki Duncan
Kerry Schafer
Ruth Frances Long

Please feel free to leave your stories in the comments section. Thank you.

Cupid’s Choice Blog Hop

 

Are you ready for the romance?

Graylin

 

Romantic Times 2012

I got SWAG! Well, I went all nerdy and created a postcard for my titles and they are being printed now. I have to remember not to camp out by the mailbox. *twitch*

 

 

Hope to see you at the conference!

Graylin

My Inspiration

I started reading when I was four years old. I was always fascinated by books like The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, and Grimm’s fairy tales. A part of me always believed that magic was real. That part is still with me. And that part fell in love with fantasy novels.Then my father took me to see Star Wars and I *so* wanted to be Princess Leia. Me and about 4 million other girls/women, many of whom still dress like her at Comic-con today.

I wandered into Harlequin romances in my teen years. Mostly because my mother and I would spend one afternoon a week in the used bookstore and they had a huge collection of romances. And I was a teenager. A dreamy teenager. Oh! That is when Fabio showed up on book covers. There wasn’t anyone who compared to his overly large pecks (Moobs) and long flowy hair where I grew up. Man, the fantasies I had.

 

Then I hit adulthood and got a hold of Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Seeing her vision of Arthurian legend from the view of women enthralled me. I still have that book and it’s moved with me 9 different times. I did love the movie but as is usually the case, the book was much better.

I read all of the MYTH series of books by Robert Asprin.  The three book series by Esther Friesner (Gnome Man’s Land, Harpy High, Unicorn U) made me see the wonder in the humorous fantasy tale and I was hooked. Gnome Man’s Land is the first time I can remember laughing out loud at a book. I laughed so hard I had to put the book down and gather myself before I continued.

Today I keep up with the Hollows series by Kim Harrison, the Esther Diamond series by Laura Resnick, the Gin Blanco Series by Jennifer Estep, the Otherworld series by Kelley Armstrong, the Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series by Julie Kenner, and the demon series by S.L. Wright. And I love anything Molly Harper writes.

What are your favorite series of books that influenced you? I would love to hear them.

Graylin

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