Best Selling Author Caroline Fardig Releases Bad Medicine!


What do a smokin’ hot detective, an evil chiropractor, and a couple of blind dates from hell have in common?

Lizzie has to wrangle them all in the third book of THE LIZZIE HART MYSTERIES series!

LHM_Logo copy


BAD MEDICINE is the third book in THE LIZZIE HART MYSTERIES series.

Bad Medicine cover copyLizzie Hart is overjoyed that six whole months have passed without a single murder in the sleepy town of Liberty. It’s also been six months since Blake Morgan heartlessly dumped her, but she’s determined to get over him. She’s slimmed down, ready to party, and injury-free, except for a little nagging pain in her ankle. She’s also very single, but her friends are doing everything in their power to fix that—including setting her up on one disastrous blind date after another.

Lizzie’s reprieve is short-lived when an old friend of hers is found dead from an apparent drug overdose. She wants to write it off as bad behavior after having seen the guy cheating on his wife with the new chiropractor in town. However, when she sees that same chiropractor playing doctor with another man who ends up dead, she worries there could be murder afoot.

Doing her best to stay on the right side of the law this time, Lizzie decides to go straight to the police with her suspicions. Unfortunately, the only cop available to speak with her is the stern yet hot new detective who has already given her a traffic ticket and a reprimand for public intoxication. Not surprisingly, he brushes her off, leaving her no choice but to begin snooping on her own. Lizzie soon learns she’s going to need help to get to the bottom of this mystery, but her best partner in crime solving, Blake, has turned into her worst enemy.

Can Lizzie and Blake find a way to work together to catch the killer…or will they kill each other first?

Purchase Bad Medicine on Amazon:

About the Author:

Headshot copyCAROLINE FARDIG is the author of the LIZZIE HART MYSTERIES series and the forthcoming DEATH BEFORE DECAF, available November 2015 through Random House. Her eclectic working career included occupations of schoolteacher, church organist, insurance agent, funeral parlor associate, and stay-at-home mom before she realized that she wanted to be a writer when she grew up. Born and raised in a small town in Indiana, Fardig still lives in that same town with an understanding husband, two sweet kids, two energetic dogs, and one malevolent cat.


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Author Spotlight on Isabella Louise Anderson

 We have a Goddess in the house!

Author Isabella Louise Anderson has allowed me to feature her debut novel,  The Right Design and I’m honored! Check out her fabulous cover (I love this cover!) and the blurb on the book! The ebook is on sale for a short time, for only 99 cents. Only until August 3, so make sure you grab it before the price goes up! Below are the purchase links, some information about Isabella and blurbs from the book! Enjoy!


Do business and pleasure mix?

In the author’s debut novel comes a story about picking up the pieces, letting go of the past, and finding love along the way–even if morals are tested!

Interior designer Carrie Newman could not have envisioned a more perfect life for herself. She had a great job doing what she loved, wonderful friends, and a close relationship with her sister and brother-in-law. Add in an amazing man who she’d hoped would soon become her husband, and her life was perfect. Until one devastating decision ruins her relationship and changes the course of her life.

Determined to make a new start, Carrie leaves Texas and heads to Palm Beach to pick up the pieces of her shattered and broken life. The last thing she expects is to find herself attracted to her first client at her new job–Brad Larson, who has proven himself time and time again to be caddish.

But there’s something beneath the surface of Brad’s arrogant exterior that keeps her craving more of him–something almost sweet that Carrie can’t seem to resist.

Is Carrie ready to take another chance on romance? And will this new design of her life prove to be the right one?

Book Excerpt 1

After a long pause, Carrie finally spoke. “Fine. Yes, I’m seeing someone.” And when she said those words, she smiled because sticking it to him felt good. Damn good!

Roger stood up, walked toward her and kneeled down in front of her.

Carrie held her hand up to stop him, closed her eyes and took a breath.

“Does he know you like I do? Does he know how you like your eggs in the morning? Does he know how you have to sleep with socks on every night? Does he know you read magazines from the back to the front?”

She turned her head so she wouldn’t have to face him. “Roger, please leave.” Carrie couldn’t take it anymore.

Roger reached for her, grasping her arms and bringing her attention back to him.

“Get the hell out of here. Now!” Anger shot through Carrie as she raised her voice.

“Does he know how you like to be kissed?” Roger stared at Carrie as he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

While his hand had once been a source of soothing touch for her, it now stung. “Leave! We’re over! Get the hell out of here,” she yelled, pointing to the exit.

Suddenly, Roger grabbed her shoulders and pulled her tightly to him, catching her by surprise.

“I can’t do this,” she said trying to wriggle out of his arms, but his grip didn’t loosen. When they made eye contact again, she began to speak, but before she knew it, Carrie felt Roger’s lips on hers. For a moment, Roger had her paralyzed, as their lips reacquainted with one another. Kissing him felt familiar and for a half a second, it was as if nothing had changed between them. Seconds later, when she heard her door open, she immediately pushed Roger away, this time with more force, and saw Brad staring wide-eyed at the two of them. “Brad!” She ran toward him, but he held his hands up to stop her.

“Don’t bother,” he snapped and stormed out of her office.

Carrie quickly brushed past Roger and followed Brad down the hall calling his name, but he didn’t respond, and his pace quickened. “Brad, will you please just listen to me?” Carrie begged again as they quickly walked past Elaine’s desk and out the door. “Please let me explain.” When they made it outside to Brad’s car, he finally stopped and faced her. She tried to reach out to him, but he pulled away.

“What do you want, Carrie?”

Her eyes burned as tears ran down her face. She didn’t know where to start or what to say while memories of the last two days ran through her mind. “I’m so very sorry,” she said, wiping her tears away. “I didn’t know he was coming here.”

“He who? Who is he?” His voice was filled with dismay and spite.

“He’s my ex,” Carrie quietly confessed.

He gave a sarcastic laugh. “Of course he is.”

“We were together for six years, he cheated on me, and then I moved here to get away from him and start over. That’s when I met you.” She hoped that giving him the short version would satisfy him for now. Carrie just wanted things to get back to the way they were before Roger came to Florida.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Of all the many conversations, exes weren’t discussed on either of their parts. “He never came up in conversation. We never talked about our exes.”

“Fine, but how can you not mention someone you were with for that long? That’s kind of a big deal, don’t you think?”

“You and I have only known each other for a few weeks. Besides, at least I don’t zip in and out of women like you do,” she said. “Nor do I have flings with my assistant.”

“Danielle and I were together for only a short time, and that was years ago.”

“Well, geez, I’m sorry I didn’t follow proper Palm Beach etiquette and give you a history of my previous romances,” she fought back, but then realized that she was practically yelling. After taking a breath, she said, “I didn’t mean that, Brad. I’m sorry. I just want us back together.”

“You have a really funny way of showing that. Do you want to be with him?”

She shook her head. “No. I want you.”

He pointed toward the entrance to Ocean Designs. “That’s not the way it looked in your office.”

“I…” she began, but Carrie was at a loss for words. She buried her head in her hands. She’d been caught kissing her cheating ex and now was fighting to be with the man who she’d started to love. She looked up at Brad and began to cry harder.

“I guess I have my answer,” Brad said as he unlocked his door. “Oh, and don’t worry about finishing the project. I’ll have England take over.”


Book Excerpt 2

Her mouth was dry and she was hot, and it wasn’t the humidity making her that way either. Her guard was down and she knew it, too. She knew it was probably safer to go home, but she heard herself say, “Okay.” She took few steps past him into the house and went into the kitchen, Brad following behind her.

Brad filled a highball glass from the cabinet with purified water. When he held the glass out to her, their hands touched.

Quickly, she downed the water, but it wasn’t water she was thirsty for, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out. Electricity surged throughout her body and his touch made her come alive. Carrie wanted Brad Larson like she wanted air in her lungs. “I have to go,” she said, placing the glass down on the counter. She walked toward safety and freedom, but when she heard Brad’s footsteps quicken behind her, she knew she was still on dangerous ground. She was three steps away from the door, but something made her pause and turn around. When she did, Brad stood only a few inches away from her. “Brad…” She searched for the words, but nothing came to her.

Before Carrie knew what was happening, Brad’s lips were on hers, catching her off-guard once again, with his arms wrapped around her waist. Carrie placed her hands on his chest, trying to deny his kiss and push him away, but to no avail. Finally, Carrie succumbed to her desires and wrapped her arms around his neck, falling into him. As their tongues combined, she tasted red wine on his lips, and the woodsy scent of his cologne made her head spin. Breathless, Brad pulled away and stared down at her.

Carrie looked up at him, herself also out of breath. A whirlwind of emotions ran through her, ranging from being tempted by desire and disapproval of her actions. “Brad…” she began, breaking the silence, but nothing else came to her.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” he whispered, before kissing her again.

She put aside her moral code and went with what she felt in her heart. She slowly nodded. “Yes.”

He looked at her with hesitation. “Are you sure?” he asked, giving her one last chance to stand her ground.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” she said, and let Brad take her hand and lead them to his bedroom.

Reaching the entryway to his bedroom, Carrie’s desire for him grew, and she took control. She guided them toward the bed, her lips never leaving his, and gently pushed him down. Standing in front of him, with his legs on each side of her, she held his handsome face between her hands and felt his hardness press into her stomach. As they stared at one another, she unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the floor. She held him close and hungrily kissed his neck, leaving a trail to his shoulders.

When his hands started to trace the sensitive flesh on her arms, chills soared throughout her body. She yearned to have him. His gentle hands rested on her shoulders, giving them a soft and slow caress.

He stood up and pushed her onto the bed. Brad reached around her and unzipped the back of her dress, letting it fall to her waist, and sat down beside her. He reached for her, and together, they lay side by side, as he held her in a close embrace.

Purchase The Right Design here:

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 BioPicIsabella grew up with a book in her hand, and to this day nothing has changed. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and has been featured on several blogs. While Isabella doesn’t blog a lot, she focuses her time on featuring other writers, along with writing and editing. Isabella Louise Anderson created Chick Lit Goddess to share the love of the following genres: Chick Lit, Contemporary Romance, Romance, and Romantic Comedies! She loves featuring authors and their books. She lives in Dallas with her husband and cat. She enjoys spicy Mexican food and drinking margaritas, and can be found spending time with family and friends, cheering on the Texas Rangers, and reading. Isabella’s short story, Meet Me Under the Mistletoe, was featured in Simon & Fig’s Christmas anthology, Merry & Bright, in November 2013. The Right Design is her first novel.

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Unbreakable Bonds Makes it to the InD’Tale Magazine Rone Award Finals!

The votes have been counted and I’d like to thank everyone that voted for Unbreakable Bonds! It’s now a finalist in the 2015 paranormal Rone Awards from InD’tale Magazine! It’s so exciting! Thanks again for your votes, I really appreciate it!

2015_14_Paranormal_FINunbroken new 3d

Mother’s Day & Father’s Day

This time of the year is hard for me. I’m hit with five emotionally challenging reminders of my parents, and they wear heavily on my heart.

Mother’s Day is May 10th, and like so many others, I won’t be spending the day with my mom. Of course I’ll be happy doing whatever it is my family and I do that day, and I’ll honor my mom through out the day, silently and through stories to my kids. It won’t be a bad day, just different, like the past five since she’s been gone. I’ll take a moment alone to privately thank her for loving me, for being my biggest fan, and for having my back, even when I thought she didn’t. I’ll thank her, as I always do, for being an amazing mom, for staying strong, for pushing through my petty problems and standing by my side, even when I didn’t deserve it. I’ll refresh my wonder of her. How she didn’t cry in front of me when her mother died, her marriage ended, her father died. I’ll sit in awe of her strength to hold it together when her son died, how she never once cried in front of me through all the hard times, and how she accepted the end of her life with grace and dignity. Her mask was metal. I never saw her sad. Her strength is not lost on me.

Two weeks later, I’ll head over to the grocery store and buy six colored, helium balloons. I’ll bring them home and write notes on them. Notes to my mom. “Happy Birthday Rita.” “I miss you, Mom.” “You are not forgotten.” She would have been 84 May 24, 2015. I’ll celebrate her birthday privately, with only a mention of the date to my kids. They won’t be with me when I send the balloons to Heaven. It’s simply understood that their mom needs the private time to reflect and honor her mother. It’s not that I don’t want them there. It’s that I need to be alone. So I don’t have to wear a mask, or be brave. I am not as strong as my mother was.

Five days later, on May 29th, I’ll wake up like every May 29th since 2010, feeling the loss deep in my bones, and remembering that my father passed on that day. I’ll remember every moment of that day and how my heart broke into tiny pieces when my stepmother told me, “You’re father’s gone,” even though, because she called so late that night, I already knew.  I’ll mention it to my family in passing, making it appear as though I’m okay with it, because I should be right? Since he’ll have been gone five years this year. The truth is, I’m not okay with it. How is one ever to be okay with such a substantial loss? My hero, my Daddy is gone. There is nothing okay about that. The connection between a dad and his daughter is so strong, even death can’t break it, but it most definitely cuts and tears at it. The pain is raw sometimes, knowing the unconditional love from my dad is now comprised of memories and dreams, instead of conversations, hugs, living things. Of course I’ve tucked away the grief, only letting it out in bits and pieces when I’m alone. I wear a mask the rest of the time, though, one made of something other than metal.

June 24th is Father’s Day and again, I’ll be reminded of what I’ve lost. I’ll focus on my husband, because it’s his day, but my heart will ache, wishing I could hear my dad’s voice just once more. I’ll privately honor him, and from some place deep within my soul, I’ll pull the strength to talk about him, to tell the same stories everyone’s heard, to laugh at them, and remember the man that filled my heart with joy and taught me so much.

By then I’ll be exhausted, but my heart will suffer another hit. One more just to make sure it can handle the pressure, I guess. Six days after Father’s Day, on June 30th, I’ll wake up remembering June 30, 2009, the day my mother passed. I’ll replay the day like a movie in my head. How one minute she was talking, and the next, she simply wasn’t. I’ll remember how I stayed with her until the end, how I told her what I needed her to know, but never had the nerve to say. I’ll chastise myself for waiting. Did she hear? Did she know? Does she know now? Some things I didn’t know then, and I wish I could go back with the knowledge from time, and tell her. I’d tell her she fascinated me. I’d tell her I get it so much more now than I did before. I’d tell her I understand. I understand how much she loved me, even more than I understood in 2009. I’d tell her that as time has passed, as I’ve grown and matured, I’ve learned even more about a mother and her capacity to love, and I know now, more than ever, what she did for me. What she sacrificed. What she felt. How much she loved me.

Yes, this time of the year is hard for me.

Love you Mom and Dad.

rita ridder dick ridder

Star Wars Confuses Me

I grew up in the age of Star Wars. You know, the real Star Wars, with Luke and Leia and Hans and the cute robot guys? Oh, and Darth. Who could forget, “Luke, I am your fah-ther.” Darth. That man certainly never won any Father of the Year awards, did he?

I faithfully watched Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. I remember sitting in the theater way back in 1977, watching Star Wars with my mother and brother and thinking how incredible the movie was. (And how hot Mark Hammill was, too.)

In 1980 when The Empire Strikes Back came out, I faithfully watched that one, too, just as I did in 1983 when Return of the Jedi made its debut.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who freaked out upon hearing of Mark Hammill’s car accident and feared he’d lose his good looks because he’d been ‘terribly disfigured’ from the crash. (Rumors of total face reconstruction and masks were much more believable before the invention of the Internet.


(Mark Hamill, Luke Skywalker from the Star Wars movies, photographed in the late 1970s. The image composite is by Sean Munger, The photo on the left is by Allen Light, the photo on the right a publicity still from Star Wars).

Thankfully Hammill’s appearance wasn’t ruined for me, but that’s not what this blog is about.

Fast foward a whole bunch of life experience and years to 1999 when Star Wars Episode I (huh?) The Phantom Menace hit theaters. I was a new mom with a baby and two young stepdaughters under eight and still worked full time so honestly, I didn’t give a crap about Luke, or Darth or any of those new characters, nor did I care that they’d titled the movie Episode I. With Star Wars Episode II Attack of the Clones in 2002 and Star Wars Episode III Revenge of the Sith in 2005, I realized something was up.

My son, at six in 2005, had taken an interest in the movies and I decided to buy him the first three to watch at home. To you know, catch him up and introduce him to the characters. So, I made my way to Target’s DVD department and asked for the first three Star Wars movies. The conversation went something like this.

ME: “Hi, I’m looking for the first three Star Wars movies. Do you have them?”

YOUNG TARGET GUY: “No, ma’am. We only have the first two since the third hasn’t been released on DVD yet.”

ME: “It’s not been released? Why not?”

YOUNG TARGET DUDE: “Because it just came out in theaters, ma’am.”

ME: (scratching my head) Return of the Jedi? “No, it came out in the early ’80’s. Did they re-release it to theaters or something?”

YTG: “No, ma’am. That’s episode six. Episode three is currently in theaters.”

ME: “Huh?”

YTG: “Yes, ma’am. Return of the Jedi is sixth in the series. Revenge of the Sith, episode three, is currently in theaters.”

ME: “So it’s a new one that’s supposed to be between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi that’s in theaters now?”

YTG: “No, ma’am.”

ME: “But you just said episode three is out in theaters now.”

YTG copping an attitude: “Yes, but I also said it’s episode six.”

ME: “I need a manager.”

Thankfully, the manager was able to explain to me that the first three Star Wars movies were really the last three and the current three were really the first three.

I went home and had a glass of wine.

How would they account for the ‘first but actually last’ characters, Luke, Hans and Leia in the new but earlier movies? How would they deal with them being older when they should be younger? I was frustrated.

And then someone told me it didn’t matter because they weren’t dealing with them. They were dealing with the before them.

So I was just more confused, but decided to wait until the episode in the theaters at that time came out on DVD and then I’d get them all. I assumed they’d be in correct numerical order and I wouldn’t be confused.

It worked.

Sort of.

I’ll admit, I’m not that interested in the story for the first three (the real first three, not the first three as I knew them) so I couldn’t tell you what happened or who’s whom, but my son can. He can tell you every detail of each story because he’s memorized it all.

The other day he showed me the trailer for the new Star Wars. Apparently the originals make an appearance.


Call me confused again.

My son tried to explain it but he spoke quickly, throwing out, “Episode I” and “Episode IV” as well as the other ones like a pro, as I sat there, eyes crossed and blinking. Finally I told him I had no clue what he was talking about and I thought it was stupid to screw up the order like that. (I’d completely reverted back to my teenage years using stupid, too but I couldn’t help it!)

“Mom, that’s always how George Lucas intended it,” my son said.

“Whatever,” I replied. “Want to watch When Harry Met Sally with me?

He cringed. “What? That’s a chick flick for moms.”

“Maybe, but it’s not confusing. There’s only one episode.”

“Yeah, because no one wants to see that stuff twice.”

Needless to say, I watched When Harry Met Sally all by myself and wasn’t the least bit confused.

“I’ll have what she’s having.” 


Shelter Dogs

                Lucy, the foster dog

 IMG_0345Did you know that about 30% of dogs adopted are from rescues or shelters? Sadly that doesn’t make a dent in the about 2.7 million healthy dogs without homes. The number of dogs euthanized yearly has dropped, and it’s dropped tremendously, from 12-20 million to only 3-4 million. Only. I write that as if 3-4 million dogs isn’t many, but it is.

Have you been to your local shelter or Humane Society? How many kennels does it have? How many foster families volunteer to take in dogs and how many dogs do they have to turn away each day? It’s heartbreaking. For every dog they save, there are hundreds left in need.

A visit to your local shelter or Humane Society can drive home the reason to spay and neuter your dogs. There are far too many of them living on the streets.

I’ve never owned a dog I didn’t rescue. My dogs have come from friends and family who were no longer able to care for them, and while they weren’t in shelters, they were on their way. I’ve spent time at our county kill shelter, playing with dogs, walking them, giving them love. My son and I have done that many times and leave there heartbroken and powerless. We can’t save them all, and though our heads understand that, our hearts don’t.

We have fostered several dogs, and have been lucky enough to find them all homes. It’s not easy being a foster. In fact, for someone like me, a clean freak and busy mom, writer, etc., it’s incredibly hard, but when I see the faces of those dogs in their pens at the Humane Society, when they jump on the gates and bark at me, or hide in the corner, shy and afraid, I forget how hard it is.

Since my Gracie Girl has gone to the Rainbow Bridge, I’ve been spending extra time with Larka, our 14-year-old Shepherd mix. We’ve gone for extra long walks, spent time hanging out and bonding. She’s a sweet, wonderful dog, but she’s a loner. She’s not one to snuggle and be with her people all of the time. It’s not her thing. Gracie was that dog, and without her, a part of me is lonely. I miss her so, so much.

When I first met my husband, I had a German Shepherd named Magnum. He was my boy. We did almost everything together, except my job. Shortly after  I moved in with my husband and the girls, Magnum was diagnosed with cancer. In a matter of weeks he was gone. I was a new stepmom, a new wife and pregnant. The amount of hormones shooting through my body was insane. The fact that I’d lost my best friend so quickly, without any time to really process it was at that point, the hardest thing I’d ever experienced. I was devastated and heart broken. Two days after he passed I adopted two six month old puppies.

I was truly insane, but I blame it on the hormones.

A month later I realized having a five-year-old, a three-year-old, a job, a husband that worked twelve hour days, two puppies and no fenced in yard was just too much to handle. I had to give the puppies back. I was sad, but I was relieved. They were sweethearts but just too much for me to handle, and I wasn’t emotionally prepared to love another dog yet. I needed time to heal.

It took me a year to allow another dog in my life, and that was Gracie. Gracie, if you will, had perfect timing. I still loved and missed Magnum, but the hurt was replaced by the happy memories and I knew it was the right thing to do, bringing Gracie into our family.

Gracie has been gone for almost two months now and I still hurt and miss her. Of course I do. She was with us for 17 years. She was definitely family, and will always hold a special place in my heart, right there with Magnum. But my mourning for Gracie is different than it was with Magnum. My life is different and because of that, I made the decision to foster another dog.

Lucy has been with us for about a week now, and I am toying (strongly) with the thought of keeping her. Foster failure isn’t a bad thing! She is all love and sweetness bunched up into a hyper hot mess of puppy love. She’s a quick learner and full of energy, which has been a test of the collective patience of my family but we all love her already. She has helped to fill a part of my heart that’s been empty since Gracie passed. No, she is not replacing Gracie, she is adding her own special version of unconditional love, and giving it to someone, to all of us, really, who need it.

Lucy is from our Humane Society, but by way of the Dublin 200. The Dublin 200 is a group of 200 dogs living at the Dublin, GA shelter who needed to be fostered, rescued or homed to other shelters by March 31, 2015 or they would be euthanized. The shelter capacity is only 65 and they were 200 over that.

Two hundred dogs were to be killed because 200 families either didn’t want them, or didn’t neuter or spay their dogs.

Two hundred dogs.

The good news is that enough people and other shelters stepped up to the plate and each dog was adopted, fostered or sent to another shelter.

Lucy, our rambunctious, sloppy, going-to-be-huge pup with the big, floppy ears and a limitless amounts of love to give, could have been euthanized. This girl who is helping me heal, whose sweet brown eyes look at me with love and need, would have been killed, but instead she’s here. And she and I both know there is something special between us. She knows I need her, and that she needs me. We’re fixing each others sad parts. I’m filling hers with love, and she’s doing the same for me.

Because that’s what shelter dogs do, they love.

Please consider fostering or adopting from your local Humane Society or shelter. Shelter dogs have so much love to give. And ear nibbles, too. Lots and lots of ear nibbles.

Introducing Author K. Williams

15 Things You Might Not Know About Author K. Williams

1. I’m turning 40 in about a month. Most people who meet me think I am in my early to mid-twenties. As you can imagine, it has been hell on the dating life, as most men think I’m too young for them (the normal ones, anyway). I have been told it’s something to treasure and I am just starting to agree with that notion. (I’ve lived in the same town for 34 of those years.)

2. My grandfather raised German Shepherds, Collies and Shelties. My love of dogs is pre-birth.

3. I’ve been cooking since I could walk.

4. I have always wanted to learn a foreign language, and though I had the opportunity to learn French in high school, it wasn’t the language I wanted to learn and I couldn’t be arsed. I’m now taking on German, as I had hoped to when I was a teen. Ich liebe Deustch!

5. Native American Rights and Issues are important to me, and I hope to become a bigger and bigger advocate in the years to come. I am not Native American (nor am I German). I don’t need to be to appreciate their culture and autonomy—to appreciate what has wrongly been done to the First Nations for centuries.

6. I’m often mistaken as a sweet and quiet girl, whereby I end up in some pretty insane arguments because people don’t expect me to be able to defend myself so well. At that point, there is nothing for them to do but dig in. My close friends are always amazed by my skill, but also the audacity of people who assume things about others and show a lack of respect. Being nice is a requirement for me, but I’m not a doormat.

7. I’ve been writing since 1991 with the intention of publishing someday. I grew up on a small library, but my attention to creating books didn’t fruit until my teens. I did like writing my name in the covers of books repeatedly, so something in me must have known…ahhaha! Book signings!

8. I aced my grad studies. Going back to school at the age of 36 was an insane decision I will never regret. It’s changed my life. The fact that I was able to charge through it, giving everything that I had and reaping the results was that much more rewarding. I recommend taking classes for whatever you’re writing—it will open up possibilities in the work for you, of which you hadn’t thought.

9. I’m a screenwriter. The adaptation of OP-DEC: Operation Deceit is being considered by studios.

10. Trailokya is a personal story.

11. I dabble in jewelry design, sketching and painting.

13. I have a list of 7…crushes I have at any one time. I only share the list with my closest friends. It’s a rather silly list.

14. British. Television. Is. Every. Thing.

15. I once fed a giraffe at a zoo and have been in love with giraffe ever since

­­­­­­­­­­ 10327114_10152136195207309_577358496_n.124172828_stdBorn in Saratoga Springs, New York, K.Williams embarked on a now twenty year career in writing. After a childhood, which consisted of voracious reading and hours of film watching, it was a natural progression to study and produce art.

K attended Morrisville State College, majoring in the Biological Sciences, and then continued with English and Historical studies at the University at Albany, home of the New York State Writer’s Institute, gaining her Bachelor’s Degree. While attending UA, K interned with the 13th Moon Feminist Literary Magazine, bridging her interests in social movements and art. Topics of K’s writing include the environment, animal welfare, gender limitations, racial disparities, and the trauma of war.

Published novels by K include the Civil War drama Blue Honor, the Second World War spy thriller OP-DEC:Operation Deceit, and the controversial science fiction/fantasy series The Trailokya Trilogy. In addition to writing novels, K enjoy’s the art of screenwriting and has worked on the screen spec 8 Days in Ireland, and the adaptations of her current novels. Currently, K has completed the Master of Arts in Liberal Studies program for Film Studies and Screenwriting at Empire State College (SUNY), and is the 2013-2014 recipient of the Foner Fellowship in Arts and Social Justice. In 2015, K. Williams became an official member of International Thriller Writers.

K continues to write on this blog weekly, producing commentary Mondays and Fridays on hot topics with some fun diversions for your work week. Whether it’s cooking, learning a foreign language, history or dogs, you’ll find something to enjoy and keep coming back for.  Always a promoter of other artists, K uses Guest Blog Wednesdays to showcase artists from around the web and bring you interesting readings to expand your horizons. A sequel to her second novel, OP-DEC, is in the research phase, while the screen adaptation is being considered for production by film companies.

A devoted dog mom to Miss Sadie Sue Shagbottom, K is also a visual artist, producing the ZoDuck Cartoon, painting and sketching–digitally or traditionally, as well as an accomplished Photographer.

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Win Over 40 Books in the Summer Beach Reads Book Giveaway!

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Carolyn Ridder Aspenson Uncharted Territory An Angela Panther Mystery
Martha Reynolds Best Seller
Monica Rachel’s Folly
Heather Wardell “Seven Exes are Eight Too Many”
Meredith Schorr How Do You Know?
S.K. Wills Starting from Lost
Kathleen Irene Paterka The Other Wife
Jennifer Gracen Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love Series Book 1)
Shelly Hickman Vegas to Varanasi
Meara Platt My Fair Lily (The Farthingale Series Book 1)
Shelly Hickman Menopause to Matrimony
Chris Minich Misadventures of Princess Sydney
Pauline Wiles Saving Saffron Sweeting
S.E.Rise Simmering
Kelly Hall The Legend of the Light Keeper
Julia Park Tracey Veronika Layne Gets the Scoop
Julia Park TraceyV Veronika Layne Gets the Scoop
Tina Donahue Freeing the Beast – Book One Taming the Beast Series
K. S. R. Burns Rules for the Perpetual Diet
Jessica West Red River Rangers
Jennifer Farwell Rock Star’s Girl (A Hollywood Dating Story Book 1)
Jennifer Farwell Seven Weeks to Forever
Camela Thompson All the Pretty Bones
Kimberly J. Dalferes I Was In Love With a Short Man Once
Dana Britt Shades of Blue
Claudia H. Long The Duel for Consuelo
Justin Bog Sandcastle and Other Stories: The Complete Edition
S.L. Stacker Macyn’s Letter
Hilary Grossman Dangled Carat
Rachel Thompson Broken Places
K. Williams (Kelly Williams) OP-DEC: Operation Deceit
Patricia D. Eddy In His Silks
Janet Eve Josselyn Thin Rich Bitches
Tess Thompson Blue Midnight
Eleanor Parker Sapia A Decent Woman
Janine Donoho Soundings: Water Elemental
Monica-Marie Vincent Roses are red… Violet is dead
Steven Cross Fall of Knight
Elise Stephens Forecast
 Elise Stephens  Moonlight and Oranges

Fostering Dogs & Monday Blogs

Did you see what I did there? What’s that expression? I’m a poet and I didn’t know it.

Okay, I’ll stop.

Gracie, my best friend, companion and only the sweetest dog every, has been gone now for over a month. I’m still heartbroken and still miss her like crazy. Sixteen years is a long time to have a big dog in your life. She was more than a pet, she was my pet. My other dog, sweet, crazy-loyal Larka, who’s known Gracie all of her fourteen years, has been sad and it’s heartbreaking to see her depressed. So I did what I do, went on the Humane Society of Forsyth County website and looked to see if there was a dog we could foster, to help Larka recover, and make a new friend.

Of course there was a dog to foster. In fact, there were several dogs to foster, but since we have an older dog and two not-dog-friendly cats, we needed to pick carefully.

Last month the Dublin Laurens County Humane Society was given strict orders from the Department of Agriculture to remove the two hundred extra dogs housed in their shelter. They had room for only sixty-five and though they were doing all they could for these dogs, it just wasn’t safe for them to be crowded in like that. If they could’t re-home or find other facilities for the dogs, they were going to have to euthanize them. They had very little time to get these dogs new homes, but people stepped up and many were adopted, fostered or placed with other rescues, like the FoCo Humane Society. Dana, our foster, was one of them.

Dana, who we’e now calling Lucy because she’s definitely a Lucy and doesn’t respond to Dana at all, is a wonderful and exhausting dog. She’s a mix of Hound and Lab and we think there’s some Great Dane in her, too. Her feet are HUGE. Huge actually doesn’t describe the size of her paws. The papers say Lucy is about three years old but she’s so puppy-like, I think that’s wrong. Puppies have this sweet “My back bone isn’t fully developed yet so I wiggle all of the time” thing they do and Lucy definitely still does that. If this dog is going to get any bigger, I think her furever home better include her own room! She’s had some training because she sits and walks well on a leash. She hasn’t been trained around cats and at first, was very wary of them, now though, she thinks they’re playing chase when they run, and she bolts after them. Not good. Lucy needs a little help with manners, like jumping on the counter and furniture, but we’re working on that, too. Right now I’ve got her on a leash with me in the house and she’s pretty calm. The leash allows me to be right there when she does something we don’t want, (like playing chase with the cats) and address the issue immediately instead of trying to chase an almost seventy pound dog around the dining room table. So far, so good.


Larka was excited to have a new friend, at least at first. Since then though, she’s been stressed and aggressive. The aggression is building and I’m worried. I’m not sure if it’s a territorial thing, because now, after being the beta dog for so long, she’s the alpha and is simply protecting her turf, etc. or if she’s just ticked off that she’s not the only dog.

Did I misunderstand her sadness? Was she simply relaxed and enjoying being the top dog? She’d been getting all sorts of extra attention. I’d started walking her every day again, something we couldn’t do before because it stressed Gracie out and with her doggie ALS, she couldn’t walk far. She’s even getting two walks a day at times, too.

I have to think the change, the alpha change, and Larka’s desire to make her authority known are just that, and that in time, she’ll chill out. We’re giving it a few days. I want Lucy to be able to stay here until we find her furever home, but if the dog and cats that were here first don’t adjust, we’ll have to find another foster. I am already worried about that and already heartbroken.

It’s bad enough taking in a foster, knowing they’ll get just as attached to us as we do to them and then they’re pulled from us and sent to another strange home, which hopefully, will be their last. We know it’s for their happiness, safety and security, but they don’t. They don’t get that. They just want to be with their humans. Lucy is already becoming attached to us, to me in particular. The look in her dark brown eyes tells me “Please, I’m doing everything to make you happy, keep me,” and a big part of me wants to pay her adoption fee and make my home hers, but I have the other animals to consider, and they need to be my priority. Send good vibes to Lucy and my family and push my other pets into the ‘friend zone’ so we can keep her until her new humans see her and bring her home.

I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I was ready for the foster. Of course it’s a lot of work and a lot of effort and I have a lot going on, but it’s not even about that. It’s Gracie. I’m not ready to fill the empty space left in my heart when she died. I’m not ready to share her leash, her bowl, her collar. Will Gracie be sad? Will she be upset that I’ve ‘discarded’ her memory and gave her things to another dog? Does that make me sound crazy? If so, that’s okay. Like I said, after sixteen years, heck, even after one year, a dog is a family member, and my feelings for Gracie are still fresh, still painful, so feeling like I’m betraying her memory seems like a reasonable feeling to me. If I think with my head and not my heart, I know, deep in the recesses of my brain, somewhere, that Gracie doesn’t mind, she doesn’t feel betrayed, and that she’s glad we have Lucy, that we’re giving Lucy the chance to have a good life, like we gave Gracie sixteen years ago. At least I hope that’s what she’s feeling.

As I finish this post, I watch both Larka and Lucy playing on the deck. I’m glad to see they’re getting along, and Larka is being the alpha, without wanting to eat Lucy. :) My cats came out from hiding and are on guard, watching through the window, wondering, I’m sure, why Larka has yet to eat the big black monster so they can be free once again.

This is Larka, the protector of all things and humans Aspenson4556_1157808632102_6155743_n

IMG_2990-1And this is Gracie, on her last day, after two slow smell-full walks through the neighborhood and some chocolate chips, because she always tried to steal any chocolate we had.

Life Continues to Change… | blogging

I really should pay more attention to my website, but with book marketing, book writing, book editing (other books, not my own), kids, dogs, cats, a husband, neck surgery, etc. some things just don’t get done. I have however, made the (more than likely temporary) decision to focus more on the blogging aspect of writing instead of the social media aspect of author marketing. Just like everyone else, I can get sucked into the social media trap. What is supposed to take ten minutes ends up taking hours and I’m losing serious productivity time! Let’s be honest, do I really need to know that someone bought a new pair of shoes? Is that, ultimately, more important than my own writing? Nope. So here I am, refreshed, refocused and recommitted to the blog.

Wish me luck.

I am not a great blogger. I don’t know what to blog about. I don’t get that whole SEO thing. I type. I print. The problem is, I type (AKA write) about what I want, what’s important to me, what’s impacting my life at that moment. That is, honestly, what compelled me to write in the first place. I’d have a thought, an emotion, an experience and think, I need to write about that, so I did. It started out as a journal, turned into a few poems (mostly about a high school and college boyfriend and the painfully dramatic break up), stepped back to the journal again (that one, mostly about a mid-twenties boyfriend and the even more painful break up) and then I got married and had kids and the whole writing thing was replaced by sleep. Sleep meant more at that point than just about anything.

When that panic stricken, crazy, pull my hair out of my head and hide in the closet for peace and quiet (no joke about the hiding) subsided, I wrote again. That time, it was about the kids. How they were wonderfully annoying little beings that sucked the life right out of me. angry-woman

I complained. A lot. Thankfully none of that was ever published.

I never stopped writing, just got caught up in life and lacked time, or, I guess, didn’t make the time for it. That all changed when my parents died and I needed the emotional release. Five published books later and I think I’ve got a ‘career’.


Here’s the thing about that career, writing is a very solitude job. I’m alone, a lot. I’m not an introvert. I may pick my friends carefully (come to think of it, I wrote about a bad friendship that went sour several years ago, so I guess I didn’t stop writing completely!) but I love people. I love engaging. I love learning about them, seeing how they tick. I just love to do that in person. All of that brings me to a place of frustration and confusion. I love writing. I even like editing (most of the time) but I don’t love being alone all day long, in my house, head bent, staring into a computer screen.

I need something more. And that, I think is what I’m writing about now. That need for something more.

I’ve got a few irons in the fire, so to speak, though I’m not sure what’s going to happen with any of them. Will I still write? Absolutely. My muse will not shut up and I don’t plan to duct tape her mouth any time soon. I just may have to manage my time better, that is, if any of these irons kindle the fire successfully. file000559611048

What do you do? Do you work from home? Do you work? Do you stay home with the kids? Am I the only one who thinks she’s going to go insane if she stares at the darn umbrella on her deck for another 24 hours, straight?