Friday, October 24, 2014

Fire Writer Friday: Paty Jager

Cowboy Marvin loves listening to the Written Fireside stories and is having great fun learning a little more about 



Graciously, those author who participate in the round robin stories have agreed to stop by, on certain Fridays, and visit with my curious goat.




Stopping by this Friday is





Paty Jager     






Howdy Ms. Jager, so nice of you to stop by.  



Now down to business, are you a night owl or early bird? 




Neither. I like to sleep till 7 am but only stay up until 10 pm.





Interesting, I like to get up with the sun and nibble on blackberry leaves. 


You should try that sometime, yummy.  




Moving on, who would you be, Batman or Robin?





Robin, I’m most comfortable letting someone else lead and me do the clean up.


I didn't know Robin did western. I guess a goat can learn something new everyday. 


Personally, I'm partial to Super Goat Man.   






Would you take a taxi or a limo if they were the same price?




Limo. Always go for the better deal. ;)







Have you ever considered the subway? 

All the cool goats are riding it.  





Tell me, what was the last song you listened to? 


Song of the South by Alabama


Good song.  I enjoy songs about goats. 
Have you heard this one? 




What about your taste in movies, do you like scary, comedy, romance or adventure?


Definitely not scary! The abominable snowman on Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer scared me as a kid. I like romantic comedies and action adventure but no shoot-em up movies.




I love romance.

I get a warm feeling watching couples walk off into the sunset.




What season do you like best, Spring, Summer, Winter or Fall? 



That’s a hard one…I like spring because it brings the wild flowers and warmth after a cold winter. 









I like summer because it is warm, crops grow, and the days are longer. 







You can’t beat the crisp air of fall and the colorful leaves. 





And winter has its own charm with the sparkly snow, cozy days by the fireplace, and the expectation of Spring.




I have to say I'm partial to spring myself... so many green, tender munchies.    


Would you tell me a place you've never been to, but would love to visit?


I would like to go to Hawaii. Just to see a tropical beach and still be on U.S. soil.







I love to visit to Hawaii too. 

I hear the surfing is amazing.





Tell me, would you swim in the ocean or a pool?

Pool definitely a pool. If I can’t see the bottom I freak out. 

I learned to swim in a crystal clear river that was fresh snow melt. But I could see the bottom!







I agree, pools can be fun! 








How would you go camping - sleeping bag under the stars, tent, trailer, fancy RV, or a hotel with room service?





I like the sleeping bag in a tent. But now that, I’m aging, I’d like a cot so I don’t have to get up off the ground. ;)








Tents are tons of fun.



     



One last question.  A goat walks through your door right now wearing a cowboy hat.  What does he say and why is he there?



“This is Munchie’s ghost. 

Why haven’t you had another goat on your place since I died?”







We're like potato chips Ms. Jager. 

One goat is never enough, have two. 






Paty was a Fire Writer for 
in 
Of The Storm  


Paty is a multi-published author.

Her latest release is 

Spirit of the Mountain Book One


Evil spirits, star-crossed lovers, and duty…which will prevail? 

Wren, the daughter of a Nimiipuu chief, loves the mountain and her people—the Lake Nimmipuu. When a warrior from the enemy Blackleg tribe asks for her hand in marriage to bring peace between the tribes, she knows it is how she must fulfill her vision quest. But she is torn between duty and her breaking heart. 

Himiin, as spirit of the mountain, watches over all the creatures on his mountain, including the Nimiipuu. When Wren shows no fear of him as a white wolf, he listens to her secret fears and loses his heart to the mortal maiden. Respecting her people’s beliefs, he must watch her leave the mountain with the Blackleg warrior. 

When an evil spirit threatens Wren’s life, Himiin rushes to save her. But to leave the mountain means he’ll turn to smoke…

Spirit of the Mountain Book One
is available on 
Amazon ~ iBOOKS KOBO ~ Nook ~ WINDTREE PRESS   
ISBN 9781940064833





Follow Paty Jager online
WEBSITE ~ FACEBOOK ~ TWITTER ~ BLOG 


Thanks for stopping by Paty!

Monday, October 20, 2014

Cover Reveal: We've Always Got New York by Jill Knapp





Fellow Harper Impulse author




Jill Knapp 

        
           is here for a...



Cover Reveal 

for 

We've Always Got New York 
A What Happens To Men...? Novel


Releasing November 20th, 2014

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We've Always Got New York 


picks up after Amalia Hastings returns to Manhattan from her trip to Brazil to find that life has in fact gone on without her. 


Fresh off the plane, she is left feeling anxious and unresolved, left alone to pick up the pieces, and deal with the repercussions of choosing her own path over Michael. 


Amalia finds herself without an apartment, without a job, and starting to wonder if she's even without a best friend!

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Fancy a peek?

We've Always Got New York


Chapter 1- Amalia


I could tell by the look on her face that she was expecting something from me. She was expecting something to be different. For me to be, in some way, changed.

I’m Amalia Hastings, and on August 20th at 9:17 pm, I was home.

Home. The word seemed funny to me because I didn’t have a home to go back to. I moved out of my apartment right before leaving for Brazil and after my friend-with-benefits, Michael, showed up at my apartment, asking me to stay. I hadn’t thought it through properly; I just knew I didn’t want to live in that apartment anymore. Before my trip to Brazil I packed up what little stuff I owned and put it in storage for when I returned, assuming I would deal with it then. Well, “then” has become “now”. So for tonight I was staying with my best friend Cassandra. Who was currently waving at me.

I knew what she wanted. She wanted stories. Juicy ones that involved hot hookups on the sand. She wanted to see pictures. Pictures of the places I went, the food I ate, and the hot guys I met. She wanted me to run up to her in a sun dress, hair braided and skin tanned, and explain, no, to pontificate, to her how life-changing my trip was. She wanted me to playfully link her arm around mine and gush about how amazing it all was. How I was changed forever. That I had a new appreciation for life, food, and music. She wanted me to tell her that I would never be the same.

But this isn’t the movies and I’m not Julia Roberts.

The florescent lights above me flickered, making the airport look dark and ominous. I looked down at my hand as I pulled my rolling suitcase across the sticky, tiled floor. Not even my hand had acquired a tan. Three months in the Brazilian sun and my skin remained as pale as ever.

Cassandra was looking right at me with wide, unblinking eyes. I walked a little slower.

For some reason I couldn’t pinpoint, coming off the plane felt like a surreal experience to me. Although I was relieved to have landed, and I wouldn’t have wanted to stay in Brazil any longer, I still wasn’t utterly happy with being back. I wondered if it merely had to do with the fact that I had no apartment to go back to and was feeling pretty untethered from not having a proper home.

There’s an old saying. I’m not really sure where it’s from or who said it first. Kind of the proverb equivalent of The House of the Rising Sun. It proffers, “Wherever you go, there you are”, and up until about one month ago I had no idea what it meant. But now it means everything. It rings in my ears like a scolding mother, repeating itself over and over again until I submit.

I finally stood face to face with Cassandra, who was grinning like a fool at this point. She was dressed down for the night, wearing a purple racer-back tank top that showed off her summer glow, jeans, and gold flip-flops. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose, messy bun and her make-up was minimal, apart from the extra-shiny, coral lip-gloss she was wearing. She reeked of summer.

“Hey,” I offered, looking down at my sneakers. I wished I had more energy for her, but after ten hours on a plane it was all I could muster up.

Cassandra cocked her head to the side and smiled. Her hair swung back and forth and she popped her hip out like a model in training. She looked as fierce as ever, even dressed-down in comfortable summer clothes.

“That’s all I get? Get over here!” she said, pulling me in for a hug.

I hugged her back for a moment and then pulled away, overcome with exhaustion and jet-lag. I smiled at Cassandra. She smelled like a salty coconut and I realized she had probably come straight from Fire Island, a beach not too far from Long Island and just outside of the city. That explained the dressed-down attire, but not the lip-gloss. Unless, of course, we were going straight back there from JFK airport.

I looked back at the gate. Most people I knew hated airports, but I liked them. They offered a chance to escape. Get on a plane and in six hours from now you could be across the country. You could be in a different town, in a different house, with a different group of people. I think we all took that for granted.

I could go back to Brazil right now. Or I could go somewhere else. I’ve never been to Cincinnati; I wonder what it’s like there. Or maybe Savannah. I could definitely live in Savannah! I took a step backwards, away from Cassie. Back toward the inside of the airport. She just smiled.

“Very funny, Amalia!” she said through perfectly white teeth. “Don’t sneak away from me now. I’m so glad you’re back, I really missed you.”

Cassie threw her arm over me and smushed our faces together. She whipped out her iPhone and flipped the camera application around so the front lens could be used and snapped a picture of the two of us. Before I knew it, she uploaded the picture to Facebook with the caption “So excited, Amalia is officially home!”

Without glancing back, she walked a few feet in front of me and remained glued to her phone. The back of her Havaianas smacking onto her heels echoed throughout the now nearly empty hallway. I let out a long sigh that Cassandra didn’t hear and pulled my suitcase toward the exit. Yep, it was official. I was home.
Copyright © Jill Knapp

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Check out Jill's first
What Happen's to Men...? Book

What Happens to Men When They Move to Manhattan?

Are you on Team Michael? Or are you on Team Hayden?


Jill's bio:

I’m currently a blogger for The Huffington Post, and a former college professor. What Happens to Men When They Move to Manhattan? is my debut novel, and the first in a series of books I am writing about being young, single, and living in New York City. I am a native New Yorker, but currently reside in Raleigh, North Carolina.


Follow Jill Knapp online

                                                
Thanks for sharing Jill!



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