An Indian Soul, Guest Post by Aaron Paul Lazar

Hey guys! Aaron's excerpt got such a great response last week, I thought I'd let him talk about himself and his writing a bit more! So here he is, discussing ancestry and culture! Enjoy!

-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com

~~~

An Indian Soul 
by Aaron Paul Lazar


I’ve always been fascinated by Indian* culture. Not from a touristy point of view, mind you, but more from a strong, unyielding pull that comes from deep inside me and seems to grow stronger with every year. 

I’m not sure why this is happening, but I do know I have some native blood flowing in my veins. My grandmother told me that one of her French Canadian ancestors married a native woman. I’ve been proud of that fact all my life, but went along blindly accepting the fact without asking more questions until it was too late. My grandmother and father both died in the same year—1997—and there’s no one else to query about which tribe my great, great, great grandmother may have belonged to, or where she lived in Canada. I do know that my grandmother was born in a little town named Beau Rivage, near Quebec, and that it no longer exists because of an intentional flooding done to create a lake, or some such thing. Some folks have suggested our tribe was the Metis, but I have no proof. I never asked my grandmother more than that. Sigh. I really wish I had.

But there’s something inside that draws me to the woods and outdoors with such a visceral pull, I can’t resist. I’m deeply happy when I’m hiking in the woods, tending my gardens, or sitting beside the Sacandaga River. I frequently imagine what life would have been like as an Indian brave—hunting, tending orchards, managing crops, running through the woods all day. It’s more than an occasional speculative thought. I seem to think about it a lot.  

I believe God intended us to live as one with nature, managing our woods and fields carefully, without chemicals. This concept starkly contrasts with the lives many of us have now, sitting in an office behind a computer screen. Our bodies aren’t meant to do that, they’re meant to move and bend, with the strength and agility that comes from activity. If only we could somehow recapture the beautiful, natural ways of our ancestors who lived and nurtured the land, I know we’d eliminate high blood pressure, cancer, diabetes, and more.

When I started to write my Don’t Let the Wind Catch You, the sequel to Tremolo: cry of the loon, I decided to make the ethereal spirit who shows up in chapter 1 an Oneida Indian.

The Iroquois Nation, whose people call themselves the Hau de no sau nee, consists of six individual tribes located in the northeastern region of North America. The Six Nations includes the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca, and Tuscarora. I chose the Iroquois tribes because I know people of this tribe once lived and walked on the same trails I frequent, and it seemed fitting, you know?

Penaki, or Penni, as she’s affectionately known, pesters young Gus and his friends to find evidence in an old abandoned house that is rumored to still harbor the virus for the Genesee Valley Fever, which killed hundreds in the late 1700s. She needs to be avenged by having the truth come out, so she can be released from her earthly bonds. 

When I write about Native Americans, whether it’s Don’t Let the Wind Catch You or my new Tall Pines series, I feel most inspired while sitting by the Sacandaga River, in Hope, New York, or hiking the deep woods nearby. I picture the land before roads bisected its wild beauty, before electric poles marred its view, in a time when man had to rely on his skill and wit to survive. 

Like I said, I’ve always been fascinated by this culture. In lieu of going back in time to live life among the trees and rivers, I guess I’m creating a new world, where treachery may lurk around each corner, but where natural beauty abounds, as well.

I’m definitely enjoying the ride.

You can read the first chapters in Don’t Let the Wind Catch You by clicking on the title. Let me know what you think by contacting me at aaron dot lazar at yahoo dot com.

Aaron Paul Lazar

*I’ve read a lot of books on Indians lately, and have been educated to discover that most tribes don’t like being called Native American, they prefer either their tribe name (like Seneca or Cherokee), or native people, or Indian. So I’m trying to dump the PA term from most of my discussions to honor them. 

~~~

I can definitely relate to what Aaron is saying. I have most of the genetic traits of Native Americans, and my grandmother quite a few generations back is said by one side of the family to have been a full-blood Cherokee escapee from the Trail of Tears. Another side of the family says she was full white. But those genetic markers say that SOMEONE in my family had Native blood. I'm just not sure where. I do know that I am one of the few people in the State of Alabama that has been recognized in court by the Western Band of Cherokee as BEING Cherokee. I am honored in that.

-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com

Book Bombing Aaron Paul Lazar!

Hey guys, fellow Twilight Times author Aaron Paul Lazar has a book being released tomorrow, and we're having a book bomb! That's where we ask everyone to buy his book on the same day - that way, there's a huge surge on Amazon and his ranking gets driven up! (Good way to get on a best-seller list!) His book is called Don't Let The Wind Catch You, and it's great! I'm going to excerpt it today; please purchase it on Amazon tomorrow!

(P.S. Formatting issues are my own. Sometimes BlogSpot isn't the most cooperative word processor.)

-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com

~~~

Excerpts from Don’t Let the Wind Catch You

By Aaron Paul Lazar

*** 

I folded my napkin and looked first at my father, then my mother. "Mum? Dad? I have a question."

They both stopped in the middle of their pudding and looked at me with expectant smiles.

"Do you know who lives in the woods in that cabin behind the Ambuscade? He's an old hermit, lives by himself, I think."

My father took a zealous interest in his pudding.

My mother went white. She collected herself, exchanged a worried glance with my father, and lied to me for the first time in my life. "No, darling. We don't know who lives there. But that's private property. You shouldn't trespass in those woods."

***

I saw her in the distance. She lay huddled on her side near an abandoned old house with broken windows and scores of missing shingles. We hurried to her and jumped to the ground. I reached her first, but Siegfried pushed past me to inspect the damage.

He cradled her head and whispered to her with an urgency born of fear. "What happened?"

On her forehead, a bloody gash congealed in a nasty looking puddle. Her left ankle was swollen, all puffy and purple. She tried to sit up, but couldn't.

"I was scouting around this old house, when we flushed a turkey out of the brush over there." She pointed with a shaky finger toward the woods. "Golden Boy shied–really bad–and I fell. My leg got twisted."

I scooted beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Can you get up? We could boost you onto Golden Boy and get you home. You'll probably need crutches, you know."

She shook her head. "I don't know if I can get up. I feel dizzy."

Something inside me took a step toward manhood. "You'll ride with me, then." I stooped over her, put one hand under her knees and the other around her back. With one swift lunge I picked her up and carried her toward Pancho. Siegfried ran ahead and held him while I managed to slide her onto his back.

I turned to Siegfried. "Give me a boost, will you?"

"Ja. Naturlich." He laced both hands together and offered me a step up. "Up you go."

With a swift upward thrust, he propelled me high in the air. I landed lightly on Pancho's back, snugging behind Elsbeth, and clucked to Pancho. "Okay, boy. Let's go. Walk on, now. Nice and easy."

The sensations I felt while pressed behind Elsbeth confused me. Although I'd always been protective of her, this was different. Sweeter, it coursed through my blood and made me want to lay my head on the soft curls on her shoulder. I didn't, of course. I didn't want them to think I was a nerd.

***

"Tully! He's coming this way." I pulled Siegfried to the window.

Elsbeth wasn't flustered. "So? He's nice"

Sig brought her back to reality. "Ja. But we're trespassing and he might tell. We could be in big trouble."

Her eyes darkened. Trouble at her house meant beatings. "Mein Gott. We should go, fast."

Tully cut across the field and was heading straight for us. He'd be there in ten minutes, easy. Just as I turned to head for the stairs, I noticed a movement in the mirror over the little girl's vanity. I froze and pointed.

"What's that?"

The twins joined me and watched as something drew in the dusty surface. The letters were cumbersome and crude. A "P" appeared first, followed by an "E." With dropped jaws we watched the last two letters form: "N" and "I." The aroma of fresh crushed peppermint leaves filled the air.

Elsbeth looked from Sig to me and back again, excitement unleashed in her eyes. "Penni!"

I didn't wait to investigate, but led them out of the house and back to our horses, fortunately tethered behind the house and out of view of Tully. We scrambled onto their backs and leaned low, squeezing their sides hard. In seconds, we'd streaked into the shelter of the woods.

***

It started with a soft moan. I sat straight up and threw back the covers. "Who's there?"

With trembling fingers, I turned on my bedside lamp. My mouth and nose filled with the scent of peppermint.

The sound came again, but this time it almost seemed to resonate from inside my skull.

Tully. Help Tully.

"What?"

Help Tully. Help Tully. Help Tully.

I stood up and looked in the closet, then poked my head out the window. No one stood on the roof or below my window. The words came again, but this time accompanied by a quick flashing vision of the abandoned house. It was as if someone had aimed a super-eight-movie projector on the inside of my eyes, but only for a second.

Blood roared in my ears, and I felt all tingly. "Penni?"

The curtains rose up and took the shape of a young woman, revealing the outline of her lips, nose, and forehead. The fabric moved in and out, as if she were breathing. Right there in my bedroom.

I rubbed my eyes to be sure I wasn't still dreaming, and approached the curtain. "Penni?"

A hand reached out from behind the gauze material, and almost touched mine. Help Tully. Now.

***

At the water's edge, I walked in four inches of water, avoiding children's colorful metal pails and shovels, sun-bleached curly heads with lobster red shoulders, and an array of mothers and fathers who chased after babies or swung them in the water. When we reached the wharf, we hurried up the sand onto the asphalt and once again I hopped around like a clown with a hotfoot.

Siegfried pushed me toward a shady section where drifts of sand covered the tar. "Stand here. We'll order, and you wait in the shade."

I nodded and handed over my wallet. "I want two hamburgers with the works, onion rings, a root beer float, and a pound of saltwater taffy, assorted flavors." I'd memorized the order all week, dying for the promised day when my mother said we could buy lunch out.

I handed him the wallet, then leaned against the side of the building and watched them stand in line, all tan and sandy and tousled. Siegfried's blond hair looked more like Paul McCartney's mop top every day, except in color, of course. Lanky, yet surprisingly poised, he towered over his sister. She stood petite and pretty, as if she were about to leap on stage in a tutu, flying into the air with unbridled energy. A surge of affection rushed through me for both of them. Siegfried had seen his sister reach for my hand several times, but instead of flipping out, he'd averted his eyes and smiled. I loved him for that.

 

~~~

Don't forget to buy Don't Let The Wind Catch You tomorrow on Amazon!

-Stephanie Osborn

http://www.stephanie-osborn.com

A little...delay

I don't have anything lined up for this week, I'm afraid, guys. I've been busy getting a novel manuscript ready to go out the door, writing up a synopsis of one in my agent's hands -- and I've been dealing with a stalker.

Yeah, you heard me. A stalker.

He's local, here in Huntsville, and he doesn't seem to get the word "no." He tagged my Facebook page, asking for money (I don't have a job, I need money to go to the con, send money to me through Paypal, get your friends to do it too -- just about in those words), until I blocked him. Then he sent me an email asking for money. I replied with a bit of a rant, explaining that what he was doing was rude and I wasn't going to reward it. (If someone is truly hurting and approaches me in the right way, and if I can afford to do so, I can and have help(ed). This was NOT the right way, this was brazen and bold and self-indulgent.) I told him I'd already blocked him on Facebook and now I was blocking his email. I sent the email and then blocked him.

THEN he posted -- to my Facebook fan page. A very awkward "apology" that really wasn't one. You know the type I mean. And he did it in such a way that Facebook won't let me block him from the page or report him.

Then, THEN, he applied to join my private Facebook fan group, Lady Osborn's Pub. I saw it and killed the request...the first time.

Yeah, "first" implies "second." He did it again, and this time it was my admin who saw it and either didn't know, or didn't recognize the name. And he got in, for a couple of days, until I saw it yesterday and threw him out and put a permanent ban on him.

And I won't bother you with the way he shows up at events and conventions and invades one's personal space and... I think I'll go to a room party. Oh darn, there's X. I better move on to the next party. Oh look who just came in behind me. Moving to the next one...so did he...the next one...maybe I'll just go back to my room...

I hear he does this to lots of authors, some a lot better known than I am. But it isn't a compliment no matter how you look at it. And it isn't fun for the people being stalked. Guys like this? They don't get the concept of boundaries, of limits. Those things can't possibly apply to them, can it?

D@#^ straight, skippy, it can and does. Tomorrow I plan on calling the Huntsville PD and discussing it with them to find out what can be done.  Cease and desist, restraining order, something of the like.

Meantime I'll just keep writing. It's what I do.

-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com

Face to Face with My Villain, A Guest Post by Dora Machado

Today is the final guest post by Dora Machado! I hope you have all enjoyed it as much as I have, and I hope you support her as much as I do!

This is going to be fun -- she's interviewing a fictional character!

-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com

~~~

            Hi, my name is Dora Machado and I'm doing something a little bit unusual but very fun today. I'm interviewing one of the characters of my new fantasy novel, The Curse Giver.  

 

            But first, let me tell you a little about the story. The Curse Giver is about Lusielle, an innocent healer who is betrayed and condemned to die for a crime she didn't commit. She's on the pyre and about to die, when Bren, the embittered Lord of Laonia, rescues her. He's not her savior. On the contrary, he is doomed by a mysterious curse and Lusielle's murder is his only salvation. Stalked by intrigue and confounded by forbidden passion, predator and prey must band together to defeat not only the vile curse obliterating their lives, but also the curse giver who has already conjured their ends.           

            For my interview today I've invited the villain of the story, the curse giver herself, to answer my questions. Please forgive me if I seem a little on edge. The curse giver is very devious and mysterious and I'm not necessarily comfortable having her around. So don't expect any kindnesses from her and beware: You don't want to attract the curse giver's attention.

Let's begin:

 

DM: Welcome curse giver. Perhaps we can start with the basics. What should I call you?

 

CG: Curse giver is fine.

 

DM: Don't you have a name?

 

CG: Why would you want to know my name?

 

DM: Well, for easy reference, I suppose.

 

CG: Have you been cursed lately?

 

DM: Me? No. Don't look at me like that. Why do you ask?

 

CG: People who want to know my name usually have an agenda.

 

DM: What do you mean?

 

CG: Do you think I'm a fool? There are people who say that one way of defusing a curse is to learn the name of the curse giver.

 

DM: Is that true?

 

CG: Like I would tell you.

 

DM: Well, if it isn't true, then you shouldn't have any trouble telling us your name, should you?

 

CG: You think you know everything, don't you? Well, you don't. My given name is Jalenia.

 

DM: Jalenia, how old are you and where do you live?

 

CG: I'm ageless, but you know that. As to my lair, I'm not sharing any of that with you. Suffice to say that I travel the land of the Thousand Gods, east and west of the great river Nerpes.

 

DM: Okay, well, do you want to tell us a little about your occupation?

 

CG: I make my living casting curses in the human realm. That's all you need to know.

 

DM: Curse giver—I mean, Jalenia—I'm curious. Why did you agree to do this interview?

 

CG: As you know, I don't do interviews often. More like never. But I was curious about you. After all, you wrote me. You must have some redeeming qualities. Also, I'm looking for work. Who knows? Maybe you or one of your readers needs my services?

 

DM: Let's not cast any curses today. Remember? You promised.

 

CG: I'm just saying, if somebody needs a casting . . . .

 

DM: How about we talk about the book? Do you feel like I did a fair job portraying your character?

 

CG: Me? Fairly portrayed? I don't think so. Creatures like me are never fairly portrayed. We are secretive, devious and mysterious by nature. We don't like the spotlight. We believe in wickedness over goodness. We enjoy doing evil. We have to cast curses to exist, and yet people fear us because we do our job so well. Face it, villains never get fair press.

 

DM: So you felt like I was unfair in the way I portrayed you?

 

CG: I fault you for leaving a couple of situations up to the reader's interpretation, but overall, I think you did okay. I mean, I like being evil, and you got that part down. Oh, yes, you wrote me devious and powerful, just the way I am. You didn't make excuses for me. You didn't make me good, friendly or caring. So what if the readers loathe me?

 

DM: In the story, why did you curse the Lord of Laonia with such a virulent curse?

 

CG: Wouldn't you like to know? I'll tell you this: The Lord of Laonia's father did me wrong. He deserved to be cursed. He and his entire line deserved to suffer, all the way to the last of his sons, Bren, whose tragic story you tell in The Curse Giver. He was a fighter, that one. He wasn't willing to lay down his sword and wait for my curse to kill him like other reasonable men might have done. His sense of duty was as impressive as his endurance.

 

DM: It almost sounds like you admire the Lord of Laonia.

 

CG: Admire him? I don't know about that. I really enjoyed stringing him along. He waged a good fight. You must understand. I relish what I do and I enjoy a worthy opponent every so often. Heroes like Bren are hard to come by in my business. Fear usually neutralizes the cursed. Not Bren. He refused to be neutralized. He made it interesting for me.

 

DM: Did you ever feel any compassion for him?

 

CG: Compassion? That's a joke, right? I don't feel compassion and I relish suffering. Death is nourishment, craft is breath, work is life, grief is gold. You wrote those words into my dialogue. You ought to know better.

 

DM: Did you have any positive emotions towards the Lord of Laonia? Did you at any time regret his suffering?

 

CG: I treasured the man's hatred for me. Loathing, hatred and revulsion are thrilling, satisfying emotions worth living with and for. I cherished the Lord of Laonia as my enemy because he refused to forget and forgive. He knew that I was dangerous and would always remain so. He was a creature after my own heart and I will forever relish the scent of his scarred soul.

 

DM: Did you at least feel bad for all the suffering you caused Lusielle?

 

CG: The remedy mixer had it coming. She thought maybe she was going to be able to defeat me with her potions, to heal the curse from the very man that was trying to kill her in order to save his people from destruction. Little did Lusielle know about how foul and terrible her death would be at the hands of the man she tried to heal. Little did she know about the terrible secret that the Lord of Laonia kept from her until the very end.

 

DM: What are your virtues?

 

CG: Virtues? I want nothing to do with virtues. I've got none.

 

DM: Okay, let me rephrase the question. What are your strengths?

 

CG: I'm powerful, more powerful than any other curse giver that has ever existed. I've got potent blood lines, excellent training, and I've lived a long time, which means I have the skills and expertise to cast a virulent curse. I can command the elements, travel swiftly through astonishing means, and kill the strongest man with but a twist of my wrist. I'm persistent, oh yes, tenacious like the Goddess herself. And I'm a planner. My curses are impregnable, carefully crafted to address contingencies, anticipate disruptions, and ensure my victims' demise. Finally, I'm merciless, selfish and wicked beyond redemption. These are the traits that make me the most powerful curse giver in the realms.

 

DM: What are your weaknesses?

 

CG: I don't have weaknesses. I'm the perfect curse giver. Shudder when you hear my name.

 

DM: Did you fall in love in the book?

 

CG: Love? Yuck. There's enough of that from Bren and Lusielle in the story. Those two fought off the forbidden attraction growing between them almost as hard as they fought their enemies and me. I never understood. What did Lusielle see in the bitter, wretched lord fated to die by my hand? Why would she want to heal the very man who was destined to kill her? I mean, what kind of madness fuels that type of compassion? I never did figure all of that out.

 

DM: So I guess you don't believe in love?

 

CG: If you ask me, love is a pretty disgusting ailment. It makes the heart weak and the mind feeble. Lust, on the other hand, is a bit more interesting, something that perhaps I might consider to ease my boredom from time to time.

 

DM: Are you interested in anyone in particular?

 

CG: Interested? No. There's this creature that I had to work closely with there at the end the story, a traveler of the dark realms like myself, a soul chaser who claims the souls of the cursed when I'm done with them. To satisfy a fit of lust, he wouldn't be bad. But love? Please.

 

DM: Was there a point in the book when you were afraid that your curse was going to be defeated?

 

CG: Afraid? Me? Ha. I'll admit that Lusielle gave me a few surprises along the way. She ended up being stronger, more skilled and resilient than I had anticipated. Perhaps I should have taken care of her early on. Lusielle's wits turned out to be more impressive than most.

 

Until he found Lusielle, the Lord of Laonia was all brawn, wrath and desperation, easy to tease, mock and mislead. But together, they tried to defeat my curse. Fools. She gave him hope. Hope is another disgusting emotion, a dangerous delusion. Have I told you how much I relish tearing people's hopes to shreds? It's extraordinarily fun. You ought to try it sometime.

 

DM: Um, no thanks. I think I'll pass. Moving on. Spoilers aside, did you like the way the story ended?

 

CG: Some might think the ending curious, but I think that it reflected the true measure of my power and strength. Doomed and damned are the souls of the cursed. Useless are their struggles. I'm the curse giver and you, you will always be my prey.

 

DM: Do you have any words of wisdom for me, if I decided to write another book with you in it?

 

CG: Embrace the wickedness within and you will find me; relish it and you will understand me.

 

DM: Thank you for this interview, curse giver Jalenia.  Will we ever see you again?

 

CG: Perhaps if The Soul Chaser has a story to tell, you will include me in it, for cursed souls rarely live for long and the soul chaser must come.

 

Dora Machado is the award-winning author of the epic fantasy Stonewiser series and her newest novel, The Curse Giver, available from Twilight Times Books, July 2013. She grew up in the Dominican Republic, where she developed a fascination for writing and a taste for Merengue. After a lifetime of straddling such compelling but different worlds, fantasy is a natural fit to her stories. She lives in Florida with her husband and three very opinionated cats. To learn more about Dora Machado and her novels, visit her website at www.doramachado.com or contact her at Dora@doramachado.com. For a free excerpt of The Curse Giver, visit  http://twilighttimesbooks.com/TheCurseGiver_ch1.html.

Subscribe to her blog at http://www.doramachado.com/blog/, sign up for her at newsletter at http://doramachado.com/newsletter.php,

Facebook and Twitter.

 

~~~

That's it for July 2013! What's coming up for August??? C'mon back and find out!

-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com

 

Fantasy's "Real" Heroines, Guest Blog by Dora Machado

Dora's new book, The Curse Giver, is out this month, so I'm featuring some guest posts by her in Comet Tales!

-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com

~~~

Have you ever wondered what makes fantasy heroines real?

            I do. All the time. Perhaps it's because I write fantasy. But I also read a lot of fantasy and I really appreciate a heroine who is powerful not because she's magical but rather because she's real.

            Lusielle, the heroine in my latest novel, The Curse Giver  (Twilight Times Books, July 2013), turned out to be a remarkably "real" fantasy heroine. In hindsight, I really liked her and I wanted to learn more from the very character I created. I wondered what made her so compelling.

            But first, let me tell you a little bit about Lusielle. In the novel, she's a powerful healer, on the run, accused of a crime she didn't commit. She's about to be burned for her crimes when the Lord of Laonia saves her from the pyre. He's not her savior. On the contrary, he's deadly to her. A mysterious curse giver has cast a virulent curse that can't be defused or defeated. The curse requires the Lord of Laonia to murder Lusielle in order to save his people from destruction. So this is how the story begins, with Lusielle wondering if she should help the bitter lord pledged to kill her and the Lord of Laonia set to kill the only woman who can heal more than his body—his soul.

            One of the reasons Lusielle comes across so real in the story is that her passion for her occupation is very tangible. Practicing her craft lends her authority and, perhaps more importantly, many opportunities to grow and learn throughout the story. She takes her trade very seriously and so did I. All of the healing practices and ingredients that Lusielle uses in The Curse Giver are based on authentic medieval practices. Most of her potions' components come from historical sources. I think that the concrete elements of her practice make her more real to the reader, more credible and therefore more compelling.

            Another important aspect to Lusielle's realism is that she's not perfect and she knows it. She works hard but things don't always go her way. She's made mistakes—a marriage without love that led to years of abuse and slavery, years that, by her own admission, she won't get back. And yet she's also resilient, capable of looking forward, able to dream a different life and willing to pursue it even when it entails breaking the rules and loving someone who is ultimately pledged to kill her.

            Along those lines, relationships bring a solid sense of reality to Lusielle's story. Friendship is very important to her, and her often confusing feelings for the Lord of Laonia reflect the full gamut of the human emotions that are so familiar to all of us.

            But I think that the elements that make Lusielle most real are her willingness to challenge her fears, her ability to learn from her experiences, and the confidence that she develops as she learns. Courage and learning go hand in hand. Sure, there's some powerful magic in the story, but ultimately it's Lusielle's knowledge, reason and awareness that make all the difference. See, I think heroines who learn, change and adapt throughout a story are not just cool, they're also real, because change is required of all of us in order to better our lives and we thrive only when we learn from our mistakes.

Dora Machado is the award-winning author of the epic fantasy Stonewiser series and her newest novel, The Curse Giver, available from Twilight Times Books, July 2013. She grew up in the Dominican Republic, where she developed a fascination for writing and a taste for Merengue. After a lifetime of straddling such compelling but different worlds, fantasy is a natural fit to her stories. She lives in Florida with her husband and three very opinionated cats. To learn more about Dora Machado and her novels, visit her website at www.doramachado.com or contact her at Dora@doramachado.com. For a free excerpt of The Curse Giver, visit  http://twilighttimesbooks.com/TheCurseGiver_ch1.html.

Subscribe to her blog at http://www.doramachado.com/blog/, sign up for her at newsletter at http://doramachado.com/newsletter.php,

Facebook and Twitter.

~~~

Next week, Dora will be talking about her villain! Come back and let's support this great author!

-Stephanie Osborn
http://www.stephanie-osborn.com