At this very moment I am sitting in a session at DragonCon, a sci-fi, fantasy, horror, paranormal fan conference in Atlanta, Georgia. Thousands of fans fill five hotels and over flow into the streets. Many of them look like their favorite movie, television, or comic book characters.    I will spend my day in the Writer’s Track where I can soak in more information about writing and selling.

I started writing seriously in 1991 after I left teaching. Since I am a storyteller who loves reading,  I decided to make my stories available to the reading public. Well, telling stories and writing them are 2 different things. New York publishers did not beg to buy my books. No agents insisted they represent me. Not one small press  pleaded with me for my book.

Being a stubborn person, I decided to do it myself.  I have self-published 2 novellas and 3 novels.   As of October I became an editor for a small publisher where I can say yes to books I love that other publishers didn’t feel were ready.  I can help authors polish those books and get them ready for the public to enjoy.

AND I finally contracted my first novel Protective Instincts. That story has been through so many edits and incarnations, I barely recognize it myself.  After years I managed to cut out the VERY purple prose and modernize it.

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Blurb:

They met because he had premonitions and she was in peril. But you will never believe why they fell in love. Paranormal romance at its best.

After mourning the loss of her husband, Brit Roberts manages to pick up her life as a teacher for a rural Georgia High school. Things are fine until anonymous phone calls turn creepy and her life is endangered. It’s not until Sam Samuels, shows up to check on her that she finds a little peace, if not a slight attraction to the handsome yet meddling security specialist.

Sam Samuels isn’t just the father of one of Ms. Robert’s students, he’s a man with premonitions so strong, they make him ill. So when he meets his son’s teacher and pain kicks in, he knows something’s awry but can’t put his finger on it until he interrupts an attempt to rape and kill the teacher. 

Excerpt:

Sam rubbed his five o’clock stubble, then started on his second page of meticulous notes. His cramped handwriting made his eyes hurt. He shouldn’t have left his reading glasses in the truck.

Clicking heels on wood distracted him. The wearer sounded small but business-like, in a hurry. He glanced in the direction of the feminine sound. The lady wore navy hose and a navy skirt. He smiled and nodded at Ms. Roberts as she passed him on her way to the parking lot. “Good evening,” he said to her back as she barely slowed her exit, leaving a light floral scent to wrap around him.

Her impersonal nod toward him could have been meant for anyone.   “And a good evening to you, too,” he muttered to the closing door. Typical for her. She wasn’t the friendliest woman he’d ever met. Most women at least gave him a smile when he spoke to them.

Gut pain bent him almost double. He glanced around the deserted hall. Familiar pressure built in his head. A premonition attack was coming on. Why now? Why when his son’s teacher had passed by? He didn’t need an attack now. He hurried to the school parking lot to catch up with the cause of his discomfort. He’d finish his figures later.

Sam had figured he’d probably see Ms. Roberts here sometime before he left, but he hadn’t planned to do more than nod to her as he always did. She was attractive but standoffish. Sean had mentioned she was a widow. Maybe that was why she seldom smiled.

His mama’s training in the ways of a gentleman prodded him toward her and the old Mustang. He’d follow her tonight. He had no choice.  Maybe this premonitions was about car trouble. Probably. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d rescued someone from being stranded.

She whirled around to face him, annoyance in her expression. “Are you following me?” Sounded like an accusation.

“I’m Sean Samuels’ father.”

“I know, but why are you here at my car? Isn’t that your truck, over there?” She tilted her head toward his truck.

“Sean’s always talking about your Mustang, ’65?”

“’64 1/2.”

I had a ‘66 way back when.” He ran his hand along the back fender. “Restoring it?” He pointed to sanded areas.

Her raised eyebrow made him feel like he was intruding. Too damned bad, it couldn’t be helped. The hairs on the back of his neck were still at alert. “Does it run well?”

“Two-eighty-nine, high performance engine, four-barrel carburetor, automatic. I never drive above 85 mph.” Despite the way she seemed to parrot the response, a smile played on her lips.

Sam’s hands gravitated to his pockets as he resisted the urge to reach for her keys and unlock her door. Standing close enough to share body heat and inhale her subtle wild flower fragrance, he noticed she barely came up to his shoulder, even with her heels.

Pain lanced through Sam’s head. His physical manifestations were stronger. If only he could get an idea about the source of the danger. But then he’d have to work on using the pesky gift he hadn’t wanted, one he couldn’t ignore.

He couldn’t let her leave alone to face the unnamed threat. She’d think he’d lost his freakin’ mind if he told her he sensed she was in danger.

*~*

www.MaryMarvella.com

www.pinkfuzzyslipperwriters.blogspot.com

https://www.facebook.com/mmbarfield  or Mary Marvella, Author