Book Nooks

Isn’t reading the best past time? You can literally do it almost anywhere. And with today’s electronics, you can read a book on your phone, your e-reader or computer. Or you can carry a book with you. I have learned to read anywhere—and have: in car pool lines, at sports practice, on planes, even in hospitals. But when I really want to treat myself, I retreat to a nice, quiet corner with a great book.

When we moved into our current house, my hubby built some great book shelves in my study. While I’m sitting at my desk writing, I can look at all my favorite books and knick-knacks. It’s like visiting with old friends. Sometimes I sit in there and read, but if the weather is cooler, I have a beautiful wicker porch swing that’s very inviting. Oh, I also 55INDCRDKANBRKT-db58b91a-b736-4dff-9ca4-c038e86fa6c9found the perfect desk at Arhaus, and I’m seriously considering getting because it is adjustable. Being short, an adjustable desk could make all the difference. But I would like to create my ideal book nook one day. A place to get away from it all where I can read undisturbed. It would have to have a comfy chair or sofa with soft down throw pillows. And anyone that knows me, knows it would be best if my nook had a window that looks out on the ocean. So, I looked around online for a few pictures of book nooks I would like. Now, maybe I’d take something from each and merge them together, but I think you’ll get the idea.

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BookBathWhile poking around on the Internet, I came across this photo of a bathroom/book nook. While I know what they were going for, I just have to ask does anyone ever get into use the bathroom? If I my hubby went in there, he may never come out!

What would your prefect book nook look like? Would you have wall to wall shelves? A large window? A window seat or a big comfy chair?

New Look, New Books!

Guess who got a face lift? C.C. Hunter! Well, not me exactly, but my C.C. Hunter website did. I’m so excited about the updated look, the clean lines and the new vibe. Be sure to explore my home page and sign up for my newsletter if you haven’t already: http://www.cchunterbooks.com/news.html. And make sure you check my C.C. Hunter blog every week because I’ve got brand new videos, giveaways, and news about upcoming releases.

Happy 4th of July!

4th0Happy 4th of July! I hope you’ll be spending the day with family, maybe enjoying a fireworks display this evening. Hamburgers, hot dogs and fireworks are all very nice, but let’s not forget what we are celebrating. It was 241 years ago today that the United States was born by the Continental Congress adopted the Declaration of Independence, declaring the Thirteen Colonies were a new nation and no longer a part of the British Empire. And didn’t that set off a firestorm! War was declared, and the United States fought long and hard for its independence.

So on this important day in our nation’s history, I hope you enjoy your time with family and friends.

What are your plans for this holiday?

Fact or Fiction

We’ve seen them played out in the movies, such as Stranger Than Fiction and The Muse.  I don’t think there’s a writer alive who hasn’t given these questions some thought.

And what questions are those?

It’s a debatable subject, one I’ve had with numerous other writers over numerous glasses of Merlot.  I’ve heard the stories of writer block preventions, such as lucky rabbit’s feet, sprinkling desks with holy water, of odd, sometimes bizarre, rituals repeated daily to show honor to so-called muses.

images (1)Of course, I have rituals.  I stumble out of my bed, pour of a cup of cinnamon half-decaf/half peel-me-off-the-ceiling java, find my way to my office, still in my pajamas mind you, hair only finger-combed and . . .  here’s the most important part,  I plop my butt in the chair and start to work.

Personally, I think writer’s block and those so called muses are a tad more fiction that fact.  Why?

It goes back to my childhood. Yup, I come from the age where we blame everything on our parents.  However, Dad won’t threaten to disinherit me for this one.  You see, my dad was a plumber.  He got up every day and went to work.  Never, not once, do I ever recall him saying, “I can not plumb today.  I have plumber’s block.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, I know there were days he plumbed better than others.  Days his job was crappy.  (And I don’t mean he literally dealt with crap, but hey, he unclogged toilets.)  And as a writer, I have days I write better than others, and days I question my ability to even write a grocery list.

6359991693275867841308429358_writers-blockBut do I believe it’s because my muse packed his bags and ran off to count zebra stripes in Africa?  (And I say “his” because if I had a muse he would look like Ryan Gosling—love to do massages, and do housework without being asked.  Hey, this is my fantasy, so leave it alone.)  Do I believe it’s because I’ve suddenly been struck by the ominous fate of writer’s block?  Oh, heck no.

I guess I refuse to believe that this thing I do, called writing, is all based on luck, on some super natural power, and not on the years I spent toiling, studying, and learning the craft.  If I was a baseball player, I wouldn’t feel as if I had to grab my crotch, wear the same dirty socks, or chew the same tobacco to win a game.

But now that I’ve told you what I don’t believe, let me tell you what I do believe.  I do believe in becoming burned out.  It’s something brain surgeons, garbage men, and even plumbers can face when they don’t take the time to live a well-rounded life.

so-just-writeI believe when I’m no longer inspired about a project, I’ve probably written myself in corner and if I go back and reread it, I’ll find the scene where I took a wrong turn.  Or maybe I just need to take a day off.  Yeah, days off are good.

I believe there’s sometimes a fine line from being obsessed and being determined.

I believe that writers who stop living life and only write about it, will eventually become uninspired writers.

I believe this career and the challenges that it takes to even get published, can be a hard pill to swallow, and one needs to find ways to stay motivated.  And if it means grabbing your crotch and wearing dirty socks, and having a spittoon by your desk, then so be it.  Doing things to stay motivated is different than doing things to prevent from being robbed of a talent for which you’ve worked and earned.

So what about you?  Do you believe and shudder at the thought of writer’s block?  Do you fear and pray your muse will never abandon you?  What do you do when you find yourself suddenly uninspired?

Winner!!

The winner of last week’s giveaway is Maggie Rivers. Congratulations, Maggie, you’ve won a bag of Christie Craig swag. Please email me at christie@christie-craig.com and tell me you mailing address.

More Smiles & a Giveaway!

Last week I shared some things that make me smile. I wanted to share a few more, especially after I saw so many wonderful comments about what make all of you smile.

Nature makes me smile. I love it when I’m surrounded by nothing but the sounds of nature.  Birds, crickets, chirping squirrels, the wind blowing through the trees.

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Sunsets always make me smile, but especially sunsets on the beach.

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My hubby’s always doing crazy things to make me smile.  Just last week we took my granddaughter to see the movie Captain Underpants.  When we got home, hubby went into the bedroom and came out wearing his underwear on the outside of his pants and told her, “I’m the real Captain Underpants.”  My granddaughter and I laughed so hard we almost cried.  I love that he’s willing do anything to make someone laugh.

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And of course, my friends.

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Again, I want to ask you what makes you smile?  One person who leaves a post will win a bag of C.C. Hunter swag, promotional items, i.e. bookmarks, pens, stress balls and such. (Sorry, but this giveaway is for US residents only. And if you’re reading this on Goodreads, you need to leave your comment on my actual blog.)

WINNER!!

The winner of last week’s giveaway is Cinthia Hamer. Congratulations, Cinthia!  You’ve won a bag of Christie Craig swag. Please email me at christie@christie-craig.com and give me your mailing address.

Things That Make Me Smile

I’m generally a happy person. I laugh a lot. I’ve found the secret to being happy is appreciating the small things. These are just some of the things that make me smile.

Spending time with my granddaughter.  Since she was young, she would take a bubble bath in my Jacuzzi tub.  We still love doing it.

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Food.  Food that is good, but maybe not so good for you.  Chocolate, ice cream, and fried chicken.  (Hey, I’m from Alabama, I have to love fried chicken) Recently, hubby and I went out and were served fried chicken that looked like a heart.

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imagesGood wine.  And if you have book to read and sip a glass of wine.  Wow!

 

 

 

 

Speaking of a good book.  Okay, I told you ice cream makes me smile, but I have to tell you, books are better than ice cream.  There is nothing like losing yourself in a good book.  It takes you away from your own problems, from your own stresses, and sweeps you into a story.  Reading is a vacation for the mind. And you can’t go wrong with Lori Wilde’s Million Dollar Cowboy or Susan Muller’s Winter Song.

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15037My dog, Lady. Everyone who knows me, knows I honestly believe that our pets teach us to be better humans.  Lady not only forces me to go for a walk every day, but she insists on play time and on petting time.  Whenever I’m laughing and having a good time, lady will grab a toy and bring it to me.

 

 

So…  What makes you smile?  One person who leaves a post will win a bag of Christie Craig swag, promotional items, i.e. bookmarks, pens, stress balls and such. (Sorry, but this giveaway is for US residents only. And if you’re reading this on Goodreads, you need to leave your comment on my actual blog.)

When Things Got Hot In Texas

5150RY-wYyL._SY346_When Things Got Hot in Texas is now available! That’s five novellas, each at least 100 pages long, by five best-selling authors, in one 676 page book. All for only 99 cents. But don’t wait to order it, because this weekend, the price jumps to $2.99. That’s still a bargain, but why wait?

So how did When Things Got Hot in Texas come abut? Well, you see at last year’s RWA conference, award winning author, Laura Drake, came up with a brilliant idea to write an anthology with five western contemporary romance writers from the Western Romance Café Facebook group. Fellow author Cynthia D’Alba suggested writing something about a Texas heat wave.  I loved the idea and joined in along with Lori Wilde and Katie Lane. So that’s right. When Things Got Hot in Texas contains my The Junkyard Cowboy, Lori Wilde’s Sizzling, Katie Lane’s Falling For a Texas Hellion, Cynthia D’Alba’s Texas Daze and Laura Drake’s Cowboy Karma. And all of these novellas are brand new, never before published stories. So order When Things Got Hot in Texas and find out what happens when five sexy, hot cowboys get stuck in a Texas heat wave with the women of their dreams.

Order it now at Kobo, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and iBooks.

And if you haven’t joined Western Romance Cafe, you’re missing out on fabulous giveaways, sexy cowboys and fun discussions. Join today!

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Things Got Hot In Texas

5150RY-wYyL._SY346_Things can get hot and sexy in Texas when you least expect it

If you love sexy cowboy romance books and you love Texas Romance, these Five BESTSELLING authors bring you both in When Things Got Hot in Texas.

Lori Wilde Sizzling
Fourth of July in the Fort Worth Stockyards heats up when a cynical cowboy cop falls for his sexy primary suspect…

Christie Craig The Junkyard Cowboy
Help can be found in the most surprising places

Katie Lane Falling for a Texas Hellion
Can This Hellion Resist Hot Summer Love?

Cynthia D’Alba Texas Daze
A quick fling can sure heat up a cowgirl’s life.

Laura Drake Cowboy Karma
Karma is a good judge of character, and you my friend, are screwed.

Cowboy Karma by Laura Drake

18275259_10211357649769621_2382143997289530995_nBull rider Stead James would never say he’s sorry. But that was before he took on Dirt Nap, the meanest bull in the finals. He wakes two days later with a skull fracture, and an epiphany – he knows he needs to change. While healing, he studies a book on Zen, dubs his final year as his ‘Apology Tour’, and attempts to make amends for his arrogant, bad boy lifestyle.

Things aren’t going as planned, even before he runs into Harper Taylor’s daddy’s fist. He apologizes for taking Harper’s virginity – only to pick himself off the dirt – again. Turns out, he didn’t know about that part; he was angry about Stead not carrying through on a promise to put on a bull riding to benefit the Local Apache Reservation.

Harper has the temper to go with her red hair, but to Stead, she looks like an angel. She has an apology of her own – for using him to relieve her of her virginity.

Amends are a long and bumpy road – but if Stead really has changed, there could be an angel waiting at the end.

Bull riders are arrogant and believe they’re bullet-proof. They have to be to get on a one-ton animal that wants to stomp their guts out. I wanted to explore what would happen if one suddenly learned better – and wanted to make amends.

How about you? Do you believe that men can change their ways? Share your thoughts with us!

When Things Got Hot In Texas comes out June 5, 2017, but you can preorder it now for only 99 cents at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

When Things Get Hot in Texas

5150RY-wYyL._SY346_In just two week, my latest novella, Junkyard Cowboy, will be out as part of an anthology called When Things Get Hot in Texas. And let me tell you, it’s almost June and the temps are definitely climbing in SE Texas. So this is the perfect summer read. Not only that, but it also contains novellas by New York Times best-selling author, Lori Wilde, Katie Lane, Cynthia D’Alba and Laura Drake. All wonderful story tellers.

I promise lots of laughs with this one. Yup, Jennifer Peterson’s got it all figured out. She knows what type of guy she needs to guarantee a successful relationship. But where’s she gonna find a short, hairy mortician with “small feet”? But you know that saying, “Man plans, God laughs”? Well He plays one hell of a joke on Jennifer. Clay Connors is as far from where she’s looking as can be, but he might just be what she needs. But she’s not going to surrender without a fight—and learning a few lessons along the way like:

  • Hemorrhoid cream isn’t just for hemorrhoids. It can also finalize a breakup.
  • Once news hit the Internet, it’s always there—just a keystroke away. The good, the bad and the ugly.
  • What’s the worst thing a guy can say to a woman after kissing her? “It won’t happen again.”  Because they both know it’s a lie.
  • Nothing beats a man who’ll eat your cooking, even if it’s burnt.
  • Meaner than a junkyard dog is woman giving birth.

the junkyard cowboy high resYou can pre-order When Things Get Hot in Texas today for only 99 cents from Amazon, and Barnes & Noble. What a bargain!

Junkyard Cowboy

the junkyard cowboy high resI’ve got a new book coming out on June 5, 2017 called Junkyard Cowboy. I love, love, loved writing it and often found myself laughing out loud. (Fortunately, hubby learned a long time ago not to question me when this happens.He accepted the fact that I’m crazy and talk to my characters a long time ago.)  But this book is special to me and I not only fell in love with my main characters, but found a soft spot in my heart for a secondary character. I’ve included an excerpt at the bottom of this post. And buckle up, because to paraphrase a famous movie line, it’s going to be a bumpy ride. Because in Junkyard Cowboy, Jennifer Peterson and Clay Connors’ lives collide, and they both learn a few lessons like:

  • Sometimes the only thing better than a cowboy is a naked cowboy saving your life.
  • You may think you know what you want, but what you actually get might be what you really need.
  • If you live in a small town and get naked, don’t be surprised if the whole town knows about it.
  • Being a bodyguard isn’t a bad job if the body you’re guarding is blessed with curves and big blue eyes.
  • Good deeds don’t go unpunished. But doing the right thing lets you sleep at night.

Junkyard Cowboy Excerpt:

Jennifer Peterson sat alone fighting the desire to bite her nails. She needed three things and she needed them now—a stiff drink, the support of her two best friends, and a man. Not just any man. A podiatrist or a funeral director. Oh, an optometrist would work as well.

The bell over the door dinged.

Jennifer looked up toward the front of the restaurant, expecting it to be Bethany or Savanna. It wasn’t. A big guy walked in, stopped, and stretched his neck, searching the tables for someone. A spider-web tattoo peeked out of his collar as his head moved left to right.

He didn’t look like a podiatrist or optometrist. She didn’t hold out hope he was a funeral director, either. Not that it mattered. He was too tall. And bald. Her guy had to have hair.

Jennifer checked her phone for thehundredth time. It was almost three.

She only had two hours to whine and receive Savanna’s and Bethany’s blessings on her new plan. And yes, she needed their blessing. They’d long ago pledged to not only be friends, but to be each other’s support systems.

Which worked just fine for Jennifer since she’d already spent thousands of dollars attempting to fix herself.

The bell over the door rang again. It wasn’t them. By eight, she needed to be in Dolly, Texas for a much-needed job interview with David Brockman. The new B&B owner wanted to completely redecorate his property.

After practically being blacklisted in Pipersville by the almighty rich piece- of- shit Larson Mitchell, her career had gone into a slump. Who knew reporting a child abuser to Child Protective Services (CPS) was bad for the interior-design business?

Well, she’d known. Or feared it might. But she didn’t have a choice. It was . . . a child.

The financial slump wouldn’t be so bad if not for her recent relationship-status change. Now she had to make ends meet by herself. She hated those damn ends! No, what she really hated was the by-herself part.

She drummed her fingers on the table, eyeing the door. They’d be here any second. Well, everyone except Macy, the newcomer to the group, who was out of town and due back later tonight.

The text Jennifer had sent to her Got-Your-Back-Club: 911 Juan’s Place ASAP was a cry for help and a guarantee they’d show. Friends like hers—more supportive than a new pair of Spanks—helped each other. They’d been doing it for twenty years. Armed with love, wisdom, and alcohol, they’d gotten each other through divorces,the loss of parents and jobs, and even a murdered ex-husband by a Santa serial killer.

Leonardo, their much-lovedhalf-Hispanic, half-Italian waiter, spotted her and startedsashaying across the room.

On a tray, held dramatically on the very tips of his five fingers of his right hand, balanced an extra-large, problem-solving lime-infused frozen margarita. Was it too much to hope that it had her name on it?  Probably, since she hadn’t ordered one. Yet.

Much to her pleasure, Leonardo marched on and placed the drink in front of her.

“Whatever’s got your aura that murky brown color, this is going to solve it. And it’s on the house.”

She pulled the straw to her lips. “I love you.” She sucked, hard and fast.

Leonardo smiled. “That just tickles my fancy, and I’d like to take credit, but the drink was Juan’s idea. And while I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, I’m betting my silk boxers he’s still standing at the bar gazing into your blue eyes, dreaming of you two naked and doing the mattress mambo.”

Jennifer inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

“You dreaming it, too?” Leonardo asked with a tease.

She opened her eyes. “No, brain freeze.” Still in defrost mode, she glanced back at the bar. Yup, Juan was there. Brown bedroom eyes aimed right at her. She waved and mouthed the words, Thank you.

When the group first started coming here, Juanhad the hots for Savanna. Now that Savanna was married and extra pregnant, he’d turned his attention to Jennifer.

She hadn’t even considered Juan an option because until last night she’d been on the fast track to marital-two-kids-white-picket-fence bliss with Charles. She reached for the margarita again.

And sucked.

That train had derailed.

No, it hadn’t just derailed. It’d had a head-on—or a genital-on—collision with another, younger, no-spanks-needed train.

Leonardo shifted closer. “I know you’re engaged. However, I accidently walked in on Juan changing clothes in his office. I told him right then and there that if he’d swap sides, I’d leave Pablo and marry him.”

“Don’t even say that! You wouldn’t leave Pablo. And if you did, I’d kick your ass. I like Pablo.” Brain now completely unfrosted, she asked, “What does Pablo do for a living?”

“Works for an optometrist.”

“Definitely a keeper!” It validated everything she’d learned last night.

Leonardo inched closer. “I know Pablo’s special, but what Juan’s hiding in his jeans is special, too.”

And that seals the deal. Juan was completely out of the running. Not that he had ever really been in the running. His mixed-drink talent hinted he’d done a stint as a bartender. Which was worse than a roofer. And he was too tall, too rich.

“Why couldn’t he have been a middle-class, short, and . . .”

“Say what?” Leonardo asked.

“Nothing,” Jennifer moaned as Leonardo was summoned to another table.

The bell over the door rang, and Bethany stormed in. No one stormed quite like Bethany. A skill she’d acquired after years of facing jurors a dozen at a time.

Bethany hadn’t gotten to the table when the bell dinged again. Savannah hot-footed it in, moving as fast as a nine-months-pregnant woman could hot-foot it. Her wonky movements reminded Jennifer of the catch phrase of an old toy commercial—Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down.

Jennifer hated admitting it. She was envious of that wobble. She wanted that. Savanna was living Jennifer’s dream life. Albeit, Mark, Savanna’s homicide-detective husband, didn’t quite meet up to Jennifer’s new qualifications. But he had damn well better prove the statistics wrong.

Savanna sent her a quick wave and headed to the bathroom.

Bethany, her red hair swinging around her shoulders, stopped abruptly at the table. “What did he do this time? I swear to everything holy and my Christian Louboutin Bianca platform pumps, that I’m going to get that bastard.”

What? How did…?  “How do you know?”

Bethany stared at her as if Jennifer’s right ear had suddenly sprouted a penis. “If you threw away evidence this time, I’m going to–”

“Oh. No,” Jennifer said, “this isn’t about Mitchell, the child abuser.”

Right then Jennifer saw Savanna swing back around and hurry to the table. Jennifer peered up at Bethany and pressed her fingers to her lips.

Savanna wobbled to a stop. “What bastard? What evidence? And did you mean the red shoes? Answer fast because I’ve got a nine-pound baby drop-kicking my bladder.”

Savanna might not be able to walk or go five minutes without a bathroom, but obviously pregnancy hadn’t affected her hearing. She plopped down into a chair, rubbing her extended belly. “Spill it.”

“No bastard,” Jennifer said.

“No evidence?” Bethany added. “And yes, the red shoes.”

Savanna’s suspicious gaze shifted between Bethany and Jennifer.

A low, gruff growl seeped out of Savanna’s lips, and her blue eyes brightened to a dangerous pregnant hue.

There is no fooling Savanna. “Bethany is overreacting,” Jennifer said.

“I’m not overreacting.” Bethany dropped into a chair.

Savanna crossed her arms and rested them on top of her watermelon-sized baby bump. “What are you not overreacting about? Talk, or I’m gonna pee my pants right here, right now. And I swear, I’ll make it look like one of you did it.”

“It’s the Mitchell case,” Bethany said. “Now go pee.”

Savanna let go of a little gasp. The kind that came from her heart and was so emotion-loaded it hurt to hear it. “I almost forgot. That’s next week.”

Jennifer put her hand on Savanna’s shoulder. This was exactly why they kept the whole case hush-hush. A nine-months pregnant woman should never have to hear anything about child abuse. Well, no one should. But especially a pregnant woman who cried for a week after seeing a Hallmark commercial.

Savanna, brow creased with worry, looked at Bethany. “I thought you said the case was a slam dunk?”

“It is. But he’s got some dumb-ass, depraved four-hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyer from Dallas who needs a new car and decided to try to fight it.”

“How could anyone defend him?” Tears filled Savanna’s eyes, and she caressed her belly as if to protect the child from the evils of the world. “What about the x-rays that proved past abuse and what Jennifer witnessed?”

Bethany leaned in. “I don’t think he’s going to get away with it. But kids break bones. And . . . Jennifer didn’t actually witness it. She heard it.”

Jennifer’s spine tightened. Isn’t that bad enough? That little girl’s scream still haunted her. “He’s not going to win.” And God help her, but she prayed she was right.

Savanna looked at her. “I’m so sorry you have to do this, but you are that girl’s hero.”

Jennifer swallowed. She hadn’t intended to be a hero. Mitchell’s live-in girlfriend, Susie Burton, had let Jennifer into the house to measure for the window treatments.  Then Susie slipped out to pick up the swatches of material she’d left at a neighbor’s. A nanny was supposed to be caring for the little girl upstairs.

Jennifer heard when Mr. Mitchell had arrived home. She’d never met the man, so she’d stayed in the couple’s library, waiting for Susie to return and introduce them. Apparently, the man went straight into the office and had found Susie’s three-year-old little girl there.

As terrible as the scream was, Jennifer tried telling herself nothing bad had happened. But the next day when she saw the little girl wearing a cast, and a haunted look in her eyes, Jennifer knew that to ignore it made her just as bad as the monster who’d done it.

Savanna put her hand on her swollen belly. “When I hear stuff like this I worry about the kind of world I’m bringing my baby into.”

“Your baby isn’t ever going to be anywhere close to scum like Mitchell,” Bethany said. “She’ll be smothered in love by me, you, Mark and Aunt Jennifer and Macy and Jake.”

“She’s right,” Jennifer said.

Savanna gave her belly another pat.  “Wait.  What did you mean by evidence?”  That worry crease reappeared.

“That’s where overreacting comes in,” Jennifer said. “Two weeks ago, I went to the mall and when I came out someone’s receipt was stuck behind my wipers.  Someone had written on it: Do and Die.  I’m positive it was some kid playing pranks.  It didn’t have my name or say anything about testifying.  And I was in Atalla.  I think I’d have known if someone had followed all the way across town.

Savanna’s frown deepened.  “Did you turn it over to the police? They can check the handwriting. Mark just had something analyzed for another case.”

“Yeah they could.” Bethany cut Jennifer a told-you-so look. “She threw it away.”

“Why?” Savanna’s mouth dropped open in disappointment.

“It didn’t dawn on me until the next day that it could have been about the case. And considering I haven’t gotten another threat or anything, it seems even less likely.”

Savanna leaned back. “Unlikely, but still scary as hell. If that guy can hurt a three-year-old, he wouldn’t have any qualms–”

“I’m fine. Mark even said it sounded more like a coincidence. He has a black-and-white drive by my place two or three times a night. Nothing has happened.”

“Mark?” Savanna’s brows puckered. “My husband Mark?”

Now she’d really stuck her foot in it. “I made him promise not to tell you.”

“Doesn’t matter. He should’ve told me. You two both should’ve told me. We don’t keep secrets.”

“We do when you’re nine months pregnant.” Bethany used her jury-calming voice. “Don’t take this personally, but pregnancy has made you an emotional wreck.”

Savana didn’t look calm, so Bethany went in for a quick save. “I hear it’s normal. Once you pop that kid out your vajayjay, you’ll go back to being you.” Bethany put her hand on Savanna’s belly, but just as quickly pulled it away and eyeballed Jennifer. “Wait. If this isn’t about Mitchell, what’s this about?”

She hesitated then tossed it out real fast like ripping a Band-Aid off. “Charles broke up with me.”

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt. I’ll be posting buy links soon, so look for those right here next week.

Christie Makes “House” Calls

Smilebox_4104696810Recently, I made a visit to West Oso Junior High and High School in Corpus Christi, Texas. I gotta tell you, I had a blast! There was a lot of laughter and a lot of sharing with so many students. I love visits where I walk away and feel as if I made friends.

 

 

 

A month ago, I had another great visit at Caney Creek High School in Conroe, Texas.Smilebox_4104696818  And just last week, I went and spoke to at an award ceremony for Ganado High School in Ganado, Arizona.  I can tell you that there was a time I worried about our teens, but after doing school visits, I can seriously say I think our world is good hands.

 

 

 

Smilebox_4104696819I love meeting my fans of all ages, answering their questions and signing my books for them.  I love talking about Kylie, Della, and Miranda’s struggles and how I plagiarized from my own life to create so many of their issues.  It is so rewarding when students tell me they can relate to these characters and the hurdles they had to overcome.  Not that it is a complete surprise to me that reading about strong characters help others find courage and strength in themselves.  In truth, writing about them offers its own inspiration as well.

I get lots of emails from young fans asking me to come to their school. I wish I could do visits for free, but I can’t.  That said, I love visiting schools, and I try to work with their budgets.  And I always tell students they need to have their principal or librarian contact me through my email (cc@cchunterbooks.com).

8345I also love teaching writing workshops or giving talks at conferences. I’ve spoken at quite few Texas chapters of RWA and usually teach a workshop at RWA Nationals.  It gives me the opportunity to chat with my adult fans about Sheri and Danny or my new book coming out soon, JUNKYARD COWBOY. But then you’d be surprised by how many adults read my CC Hunter YA books, too.

If you’re interested in having me teach a workshop or speak at your organization’s meeting, send me an email (christie@christie-craig.com).