Today we have the talented Lois Winston (who also writes as Emma Carlyle) chatting about knitting emus and Love, Lies and a Double Shot of Deception. This award-winning novel is part of the Romance Super Bundle, offering 10 awesome reads for only .99! I know you're itching to get yours, but read the interview first. Lois is very witty.
~Mia
~Mia
~*~
Quick
round for Lois Winston!
Coffee,
tea or…what’s your vice?
Coffee,
24/7!
Favorite
Movie:
Classic:
Casablanca
Contemporary:
Shakespeare in Love
Favorite
Color:
Black
(because it’s so slimming!)
Favorite
book/author:
Depends
on my mood. If I want to laugh, it’s Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series,
but I’m also a huge fan of Ariana Franklin’s Mistress of Death historical
mysteries.
How
do you feel about bacon?
I especially like it when it’s chocolate covered.
But then again, everything is better when covered in chocolate.
The REAL questions… (you don’t have
to answer all of them but I do want to know more about you AND what’s under
your bed. I’m growing dust elephants for profit. I don’t want to be
out-marketed.)
*Tell us a little about yourself. (Please
answer this one even if you think it’s boring. Make something up, tell us about
your cherry stem tying skill… Tell us about your knitting or your
llama…whatever works.)
Hmm…no
one has ever asked me about my knitting, my llamas, or my knitting
llamas.
Seriously, though, my llamas don’t knit. They cross stitch. The emus knit.
Okay, I’m pulling your leg. I’m a city girl. No llamas, no emus. I knit the
occasional scarf, used to knit sweaters but haven’t made one in years. I no
longer cross stitch, thanks to the need for trifocals, but I do design cross
stitch for various craft and needlework magazines and an embroidery floss
manufacturer.
 |
| Of course the emus knit...they had a knitting company. |
What’s under your bed?
A city of dust bunnies and several plastic
bins of clothing that no longer fit. But hope springs eternal. Someday I just
may lose those 20 lbs. and fit back into those outfits.
What comes first, plot or
characters?
Depends
on the book. Some of them have started with characters, others with an idea for
a plot.
Pantser, plotter, or hybrid? Tell
us about your writing process.
Definitely
a pantser. I’ll get an idea for a scene and run with it, building a book around
it.
Oddest thing on your desk?
A
reindeer pencil.
What’s your most interesting
writing quirk?
I’m
a “method” writer. Much like method actors, I envision myself as the characters
in my book, then write the scene as I experience it in my head.
What’s your favorite thing about
the genre you write in?
I
write in several genres—romance, mystery, romantic suspense, and women’s
fiction. I enjoy different aspects of each.
What is the hardest thing about
being an author?
Relatives
and non-writer friends who expect free books. They think we’re all pulling in
James Patterson and Nora Roberts type money. If only…
What’s the easiest thing about
being an author?
The
commute.
Tell us about your latest release!
Love, Lies and a Double Shot of Deception—blurb
Winner of the 2008 Winter Rose Award for Excellence
in Romantic Fiction, the 2008 More Than Magic Award, and the 2008 Laurie Award
Life has delivered one sucker punch after another
to Emma Wadsworth. As a matter of fact, you could say the poor little rich girl
is the ultimate poster child for Money Can’t Buy Happiness — even if she is no
longer a child.
Billionaire real estate stud Logan Crawford is as
famous for his less-than-platinum reputation as he is his business empire. In
thirty-eight years he’s never fallen in love, and that’s just fine with him —
until he meets Emma.
But Emma’s not buying into Logan’s seductive ways.
Well, maybe just a little, but she’s definitely going into the affair with her
eyes wide open. She’s no fool. At least not any more. Her deceased husband saw
to that. Besides, she knows Logan will catch the first jet out of Philadelphia
once he learns her secrets.
Excerpt from Love, Lies and a Double Shot of Deception...
Winter
wonderland, my ass.
The stinging wind whipped at Emma’s
exposed cheeks and brought tears to her eyes. Lowering her head, she trudged
around the enormous mounds of black snow piled along the curb, searching for a
semi-safe path onto the sidewalk. Finding none, she grabbed a parking meter and
hauled herself over the smallest of the soot-encrusted icebergs. Some people
would go to any lengths for their morning cup of java, and she was one of them.
As she yanked open the door to Chapters
and Verse, the “Spring Movement” of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons greeted her. Someone had a really warped sense of
humor. Or hoped the power of positive thinking could affect weather patterns.
Still, the music held a reminder that the harsh realities of early February in
Philadelphia would eventually give way to sunshine and flowers come late March.
Maybe. Last year they’d suffered through one of their worst blizzards ever the
first week in April.
Emma shivered, thoughts of daffodils and
crocuses quickly replaced by the chill rippling through her damp body. Shaking
the moisture from her hair, she deposited her coat on a chair in the café, then
headed for the coffee bar.
“Morning,” said the barista. “The
usual?”
“Please.”
With her morning shot of caffeine and
sugar in hand, Emma trolled the stacks of books, occasionally pulling a volume
from the shelves and sliding it under her arm. She needed the predictability of
this daily routine. It helped her get through the rest of the day. Every day.
Why
the hell do I stay?
If she had any courage, she’d leave.
Sell the house. Move away. Start over. But she couldn’t leave, and her reasons
had little to do with a lack of courage. Life in Emmaville was just too damn
complex. One part guilt, one part masochism. But how could she leave the only
tangible reminder she had of life before everything had turned to shit?
So she stayed, losing herself in work
that at least gave her the satisfaction of knowing her efforts helped others.
She pushed herself each day until exhaustion overcame her and she fell into
nightmare-riddled sleep. Tomorrow morning the cycle would repeat itself. I’m a twenty-first century Sisyphus,
eternally damned to live out an unending punishment for my sins. Not that
she had a clue as to whatever sin first condemned her years before, but she’d
certainly committed a whopper since then. Whether a sin of omission or
commission, it hardly mattered. The result was the same.
Still, what would be the harm in a short
escape? She deserved that much, didn’t she? Emma closed her eyes and conjured
up a distant memory of a sun-kissed Adriatic coastline. Hell, why not? She
opened her eyes and headed for the travel section.
~*~
Logan Crawford’s mind kept drifting back
to the events of last night, an evening definitely not worth remembering. Even
her name escaped him. Normally not a problem, but this time he was saddled with
Candi-Randi-Bambi-whatever-the-hell-her-name-was for the length of his stay in
Philadelphia. As head of the city’s redevelopment office, she was his official
escort-slash-liaison, the person assigned to make certain he chose the City of
Brotherly Love as the East coast site for his corporate headquarters. And last
night Candi-Randi-Bambi, a woman who wore her ambition emblazoned across her
surgically augmented chest, made it abundantly clear just how far she’d go to
get him to sign on the dotted line. And it was far from brotherly. Or sisterly.
Logan doubted he was the first
billionaire businessman she’d bedded in her quest up the corporate ladder, but
he’d wager a good portion of his sizeable fortune that he was the biggest—the wunderkind West Coast urban developer
who was giving The Donald a run for his money. Only Logan had better hair—as the media was quick to point out.
With a snap of his fingers, he could
provide Candi-Randi-Bambi with an express elevator straight through the glass
ceiling, and she knew it.
No
fucking way in hell.
Last night when he stared down into
Candi-Randi-Bambi’s come-hither eyes, he saw the reflection of a disillusioned,
unhappy man. And damn, up to that moment he hadn’t even realized he’d been
disillusioned or unhappy. He had wealth; he had power. So what was up with the
sudden emptiness and dissatisfaction?
Beryl would say it was because he led a
shallow life devoid of emotional commitment. As much as he protested to the
contrary, he knew she was right. Maybe it was time to leave the bimbos to
Trump.
Struck by the epiphany, he’d bolted from
Candi-Randi-Bambi’s bed. They’d used each other. She spread her legs hoping to
advance her career; he’d taken advantage of the offer. Sex without emotional
entanglements, the pattern of his adult life. He got the release he needed, and
the woman got a notch on her bedpost. Only this time it hadn’t worked. After
thirty-eight years Logan Crawford realized it was time to grow up. Only damn
it, he didn’t have a clue how.
Still reeling from the self-revelation,
he’d canceled his morning appointments and headed his rental car north, needing
some time alone to think. After driving for half an hour he found himself in a
quiet, upscale section of Philadelphia. A bookstore on top of a hill beckoned
like a siren.
For the rest of his stay in Philadelphia
he vowed to spend his nights curled up with a good thriller rather than a cheap
thrill. Now all he had to do was find one. At the moment he couldn’t even find
the damn fiction section in the boundless maze of shelves that wound around the
first level of the two story megastore. Lost in the travel section, he spun on
his heels and—
THUD!
Bio:
Award-winning author Lois Winston writes romance,
romantic suspense, mystery, chick lit, women’s fiction, and non-fiction under
her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus
Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery
series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” Visit Lois at www.loiswinston.com,
visit Emma at www.emmacarlyle.com, and
visit Anastasia at the Killer Crafts & Crafty Killers blog.
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~*~
Thanks for stopping by!
3 comments:
Fun interview, Lois. There's such a thing as chocolate-covered bacon? Not sure if that appeals to me or not, lol?
I used to do cross stitch, too, until the glasses thing. :(
Chocolate covered bacon? Is that a real thing?
Yes, Linda and Pam, there really is chocolate covered bacon. And it's expensive!
Linda, my cross stitching days are behind me, too, thanks to trifocals, but I still design it.
Thanks for stopping by.
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