Hi Marlow! Thank you for letting me blog with you today about my newest release, The Detective's Dragon. This is my fifth novel, although I have written two novellas. Five sounds like a big number to me. In some ways I can't believe I have written that many published books (we won't even talk about the books hiding out in the closet, never to see the light of day). Let me tell you a little about how I got started writing.
I used to work in a cube farm, and one day I looked around and thought, I'm really tired of working here, I need a new profession. What to do, what to do? As if called, all these story ideas that had been floating around in my head for some time in the background of my subconscious hopped into the front of my mind. "Write me, write me," they yelled. Well, okay, not really, but it sure did seem like they yelled. At the time the only thing I knew about writers was what I'd seen on TV or the movies, which are always 100% accurate about everything, right? So my idea of an author was someone who wrote half a day, took a walk the other half (in the woods of course, because all authors live on acres of woods) and got paid a smooth million to offer their great stories to us peon readers. Oh, and I could eat bon-bons all day.
Not that I've ever eaten a bon-bon, but I'm pretty sure they're chocolate and man, do I love chocolate. Of course I listened to the little story idea voices bouncing around in my mind. Who wouldn't? The idea of sitting at home eating bon-bons while gifting the world with my creativity beat working in a cube.
I immediately started working on the great American novel (see the abovementioned book hiding in the closet). It was wonderful. Everyone would read it. Bon-bons here I come.
By the time I finished writing the Great American Novel, I realized it needed another round of edits. Or six. A whole different plot line might have also helped. So I placed it in the closet and started on another story. By this time I no longer worked in the cube farm and had met a lady in my new job that wrote who suggested I read The Writer's Digest. Which was a great idea. The WD suggested joining RWA (Romance Writers of America) even if one didn't write romance. I definitely didn't write romance, although a romantic element or two always made an appearance in my books.
I felt a little silly showing up at the meeting of the local chapter of RWA when I wrote anything but romance. But the authors there made me feel welcome so I joined. After a few months I thought, hey, if I pay the dues, I should at least TRY to write a romance novel. So I did. Of course, it was wonderful and when published, after being fought over by multiple publishing houses, everyone would read it and I could finally figure out what the heck bon-bons were and start eating them.
But no one wanted it. (cue the world's smallest violin playing my heart bleeds for you)
So I continued to refine my craft. Then one of my critique partners mentioned a contest by a then new e-publishing company, The Wild Rose Press. The contest, Got Wolf?, would take the top six werewolf romance short stories and stick them in an anthology. I came up with a story idea and started writing. I barely made the submission deadline date because I'm the slowest writer the planet has ever seen, but I squeaked by. Then I had to wait.
On Halloween 2008 I learned I was one of the six who won a spot in the anthology. And my writing career was born.
And what happened to that first romance book? I submitted it to my editor. She politely turned it down. I read it and discovered that, yikes, one should not submit a book that has been sitting on the shelf for two years without re-reading the thing. It was hideous. So I countered with a rewrite. She agreed to read it again. Then I had to do another rewrite, and by rewrite, I mean rewrite the whole story line. Then it was accepted. The book was Magical Lover and it was the first in the Draconia Tales trilogy.
Once the trilogy was finished, I put the dragon shifters aside and moved on to start on an urban fantasy series. But my dragons kept calling me so I wrote The Detective's Dragon. Now the trilogy has to be called a series. <g>
Here's a little bit about The Detective's Dragon:
As a Halfling with little magic, Jamie is barely considered a Draconi, his sole talent finding jewels and lost people. But when he dreams of a human female in trouble, he has no choice but to save her, even if it means crossing dimensions into a different realm. Unfairly accused and placed on administrative leave, Detective Ruby Parker is determined to regain her position on the Denver police force. When an attempt to kidnap her fails, she must learn to trust the stranger who appears from nowhere to help her. Unlike in Draconia, Jamie's powers work in Parker's world, his longing to wield magic finally fulfilled. But is working magic worth leaving his family and friends? When Parker realizes she loves Jamie, she must make a choice, follow her heart to a different world, or remain alone and attempt to regain her beloved job. What happens when the one you love lives in another dimension?
The squeak of hinges snapped Parker’s attention to the door. Hottie stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, the other on the handle, a look of determination plastered on his face. A look she was familiar with. A look she saw reflected in her mirror on a daily basis. A look mirrored on her coworkers’ faces when working a case.
A look she never thought to see directed her way.
Which was a bit unnerving, but not nearly as unnerving as the realization he’d followed her. He stood in the doorway like he owned the place. Or owned her.
Her limbs shuddered like a car without shocks. He. Followed. Her. Was he stalking her? Was he with the ones who tried to kidnap her? What was he doing here? More to the point, how did she get rid of him? Her muscles might be coming out of a deep freeze, but that didn’t mean she could hop off the bed and toss him out the door.
Where was the damn call button?
Parker patted the mattress. Hottie took a step closer. Then another. No button. Her heart shook an uneven rhythm, the beat a warning drum in her veins. Her hand moved faster against the mattress, searching, seeking, not finding.
“Be of ease. I mean no harm.”
She stilled, her hand paused mid-pat as if his words flipped her off switch. Deep and soothing, his voice stroked across frazzled nerves, slowing her racing heart. If he could bottle that sound, women would fall at his feet.
Where to find Karilyn
My Latest News
My books go through four rounds of edits
Fire Storm is on the third round
and I am currently plotting Michael's story, Wind Storm