Watch #RWISA Write Spotlight Tour with Marcha Fox @startrailsIV


RWISA TOUR

 

I hope you’ve been enjoying Rave Writers-International Society of Authors month long #blog tour!

Today’s guest is Marcha Fox. Welcome, Marcha!

 

Marcha

 

Marcha Fox is a science fiction fan and author whose love of astronomy resulted in a bachelor’s of science degree in physics from Utah State University. This was followed by a 21 year career at NASA, where she held a variety of positions including technical writer, engineer, and eventually manager. Her NASA experience was primarily at Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas, but included trips to Cape Canaveral in Florida; visiting other Centers in Mississippi, Alabama and Maryland; as well as visits to California and the European Space Agency in The Netherlands. Her most memorable experience, however, was the sad task of helping to recover space shuttle debris in East Texas following the tragic Columbia accident in 2003.

“NASA was a great career experience, but writing is what I’ve always wanted to do,” she explains. “My education and aerospace experience have given me the background I need to write science-based stories populated with convincing characters. To me there is nothing more exhilarating than bringing a fictitious person to life.”

 

Your Wildest Dreams

I inhaled sharply when I recognized the introductory riff wafting from my favorite 80s station as Your Wildest Dreams by the Moody Blues. Even though I had the original 45 RPM record, the album on cassette tape, and more recently, the CD, I kept them safely locked away so I wouldn’t binge on it. Nonetheless, when KPLV, 93.1 FM in Vegas, got around to playing it every few weeks or so, I’d indulge in a break, a delicious reminder of why I was here.

Consumed by ethereal and intimately familiar soundwaves, I got up, closed the blinds, and even though it was unlikely the song’s strains would penetrate my office’s cinder block walls, plugged in my headset so I could crank it up—I mean really up. I melted back into my chair, eyes closed, with what was probably an idiotic smile on my face, savoring each note as the song segued into its lively, 142 BPM tempo. The next three minutes and forty-one seconds, I’d be in heaven.

Even though this song came out eight years after she left, the first time I heard it, back when I was still in college in ’86, I knew two things: One, it would always be “our song”; and Two, I had to find her.

My heart leapt with visions of galaxies beyond, of what might be out there, where she might be. I plunged headlong through space and time, besieged by memories burned into my heart as permanently and painfully as branding was to a newborn calf. Did she remember? Feel the same thing I did? Sense the enchantment of fate-entangled lives?

I memorize pretty easily, which comes in handy, especially with things like the Periodic Table or Maxwell’s equations. And of course, favorite songs. These particular lyrics struck me, hard and personal, from day one, certain it’d been written exclusively for me.

As my eyes teared up, logic intervened and yanked me back to planet Earth.

Grow up, Benson! What are you, a total schmaltz or what?

We were kids, for heaven sakes. A teenage crush. I should’ve gotten over it, but never did. No wonder. Girls like her are rare. One of a kind. She’d already experienced things I never would. Things that were part of my wildest dreams.

The admonition failed, pushed aside by that part of me that felt alive again, jammin’ like a total jerk, mouthing the words as I sang along in my head. It’s not like I’m a teenager anymore, though at the moment I felt like one. No, memories of the heart never die—can’t die, evereven if you try to kill them.

I’d give anything to talk to her. Which of course I have, numerous times over the years, if only in my head. Okay, aloud more often than I care to admit. I could swear it even felt as if she answered a time or two. I suppose that’s how it is with your first love. Or your first kiss, even if it was only a peck on the cheek. It penetrates your soul and stays there forever.

That mid-summer day in ’78 hauling hay was as vivid as yesterday in my mind’s eye. The cloudless sky, sun hot on my neck, the aroma of first-crop alfalfa sweetening the mountain air. I scratched my shoulder, a reflex memory of itchy, stray leaves sticking through my T-shirt. My chest ached as I remembered tear tracks streaking her dust-covered face at something I’d said. Then, days later, that withering look when we lied about her ship.

The one we still have. What’s left of it quietly abandoned beneath a tarp in Building 15, here at Area 51.

How she knew we weren’t telling the truth, I’ll never know. Pretty funny it’s still sitting there. And I’m sure she’d think so, too. I can just hear her saying, “Stupid snurks, I knew they’d never figure it out.” Though actually they did, just didn’t find technology worth pursuing. Even contractors didn’t want it.

I had to admit it was pretty crazy, but she was my motivation to get where I was today: just short of a decade of college linked with serendipity that put me in the right place at the right time, hoping someday I’d find her. My life had changed a lot since then. How much had hers changed? Did she make it home? Was she still alive? With the effects of relativistic travel, which I understood only too well, she could still be a teenager, while I was easing into the infamous dirty thirties.

Not good. If I ever did find her, she’d probably think I was some lecherous old fart. Either that, or, with my luck, she’d be married with a bunch of kids. I winced with the thought.

My sentimental reverie vanished when my office door slammed open and Hector Buckhorn rolled in. Literally. Hec’s been stuck in a wheelchair ever since he crashed his hang glider into a New Mexico mountainside during spring break his last semester of college. He ridge soared a lot, particularly around Dulce, over restricted areas where he wasn’t supposed to be. Got caught a couple times, but being Native American, never got in trouble, even though it wasn’t his home reservation. He’s amazingly good at playing dumb, in spite of—or possibly because of—his 150ish IQ. He never talked about his accident, said he couldn’t remember. Makes sense, actually, given he suffered a massive concussion. The only time I ever saw him pissed him off was when he woke up in the hospital and discovered they’d shaved off his hair, since grown back beyond shoulder length.

I dropped the headset around my neck and faked a frown. “Don’t you ever knock, butthead?”

“Hey, man, wazzup?” he said, giving me a funny look. “You okay?”

I laughed. “Of course. Just thinking. Remembering. You know.”

Ahhh. They played that song again, didn’t they?”

“Can’t hide anything from you, can I, Chief?”

“Nope. I figured you were up to somethin’ with your blinds closed.”

He wheeled over to the grey metal, government-issue table on the other side of the room and helped himself to a handful of peanut M&Ms. Once I’d realized during my PhD days at Cal Tech that, in a pinch, they made a pretty decent meal, I’d kept that old, wide-mouth canning jar full. He dumped them in his mouth, perusing me with knowing, dark eyes.

“You were sure enjoyin’ that song of yours,” he said, not even trying to stifle his crooked grin as he munched away.

“Yeah,” I replied, uncomfortable with the conversation’s direction.

“We’ve known each other a long time, Allen,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s time you told me about her?”

“Not much to tell.”

He let fly with a popular expletive related to bovine excrement. “C’mon! What’s her name?” he persisted.

I blew out my cheeks and sighed, knowing resistance was futile. “Creena,” I answered, surprising myself when, again, I got a little choked up. I avoided his eyes by likewise heading for the M&Ms.

“So find her,” he said.

“It’s not that simple,” I replied, pouring myself a handful. “I don’t know where she is.” A statement that was truer than he could possibly imagine.

“I have some resources who could help,” he offered with a conspiratorial wink.

I shook my head, then stalled by popping a few colorful orbs in my mouth.

“Why not? If she’s anywhere on this planet, these guys’ll find her.”

I swallowed hard and paused; met his gaze. “She’s not.”

He scowled, making him look a lot like those old pictures of Cochise. “Say again?”

“She’s. Not.”

“Oh! I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I assumed she’s dead. She must’ve been quite a girl.”

“She was. Is. She’s not dead. At least as far as I know.”

His jaw dropped, shocked expression broadcasting the fact he’d caught the implications. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Abductee?” he whispered.

“Nope,” I answered, raiding the candy jar again. “Immigrant.”

His eyes widened as he spewed an expletive that elevated excrement to sanctified status. “Don’t tell me she’s an EBE!”

I nearly spewed partially chewed M&Ms across the room. Extraterrestrial biological entity, indeed! Yet by definition, actually, she was.

I chuckled at his expression and shook my head. “No. Quite human. At least as far as I know.”

“Are you?” he added, chocolate-colored irises rimmed with white. His reaction surprised me—UFOs, even aliens, were no big deal in his culture, just business as usual with the Star People.

“C’mon, Chief! You’ve known me since tenth grade, running high school track!”

He leaned back, searching my face with more solemnity than I’d seen since I told him how Dad died. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, bro,” he said finally, shaking his head.

“You have no idea,” I said, throat constricting as scratchy lyrics from the headset, audible only to me, issued another reminder of why I was here.

 

Copyright © 2017 by Marcha Fox

 

[NOTE:–This is an excerpt from my upcoming novel, Dark Circles, a slightly dark, hard sci-fi love story. No release date has been set.]

 

Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.  WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

Marcha Fox’s RWISA Author Page

Will his dark past destroy all hope for their future? A Cold Dark Promise by @tonianderson #RomanticSuspense #amreading @InkSlingerPR


 We’ve got a surprise for you today – the cover of A COLD DARK PROMISE by Toni Anderson, a new novella in her Cold Justice series, is releasing November 14th! Check out the cover below and preorder your copy today!

About A COLD DARK PROMISE

Available November 14th

A COLD DARK PROMISE takes place during the week leading up to the wedding of former assassin Alex Parker to FBI Agent Mallory Rooney, who meet and fall in love in the novel, A COLD DARK PLACE.

In the midst of wedding preparations, a shadowy figure from Alex Parker’s past reappears and threatens the joy he’s found with Mallory Rooney.

Four years ago, Jane Sanders’s rich and powerful ex-husband kidnapped their young daughter and Jane hasn’t seen her since. Now she finally has a lead on her location and she knows just the man to help her get her daughter back. Trouble is, he’s an assassin. And he terrifies her.

Despite his upcoming nuptials, Alex agrees to help, but it doesn’t take long for the routine operation to turn complicated—and deadly. Can the former CIA operative make it home in time to marry the woman he loves, or will his dark past destroy all hope for their future?

Preorder your copy of A COLD DARK PROMISE:

Amazon iBooks | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Google Play


Did you know the first book in the Cold Justice series is available for free? Get your hands on A COLD DARK PLACE!

 

Amazon | iBooks | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Google Play

The next book in the Cold Justice series, COLD MALICE, releases September 12th – have you preordered your copy yet?

About COLD MALICE

ASAC Steve (Mac) McKenzie is out to prove himself by leading a task force investigating a series of murders in the heart of Washington, DC. His undercover work in an antigovernment compound twenty years earlier is related—as is the sweet, innocent girl he befriended back then. Now that girl is a beautiful woman, and she has something to hide.

Tess Fallon spent a lifetime trying to outrun her family’s brand of bigotry, but someone is threatening her anonymity by using the anniversary of her father’s death to carry out evil crimes and she’s terrified her younger brother is involved. She sets out to find the truth and comes face-to-face with a man she once idolized, a man she thought long dead. As the crimes escalate it becomes obvious the killer has an agenda, and Tess and Mac are running out of time to stop him.

Will the perpetrator use a decades-old dream of revolution to attack the federal government? And will the fact that Tess and Mac have fallen hard for each other give a cold-hearted killer the power to destroy them both?

Add COLD MALICE to your Goodreads list here!

Preorder your copy of COLD MALICE:

Amazon | iBooks | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Google Play

See the COLD MALICE trailer

 

About Toni Anderson

New York Times and USA Today international bestselling author, Toni Anderson, writes dark, gritty Romantic Suspense novels that have hit #1 in Barnes & Noble’s Nook store, the Top 10 in Amazon and Kobo stores, and the Top 50 in iBooks. Her novels have won many awards. A former Marine Biologist from Britain, she inexplicably ended up in the geographical center of North America, about as far from the ocean as it is possible to get. She now lives in the Canadian prairies with her Irish husband and two children and spends most of her time complaining about the weather.

Toni has no explanation for her oft-times dark imagination, and only hopes the romance makes up for it. She’s addicted to reading, dogs, tea, and chocolate.

If you want to know when Toni’s next book will be out, visit her website (http://www.toniandersonauthor.com) and sign up for her newsletter. If you want to read other fascinating stories about life in a city that, during winter, is sometimes colder than Mars, friend her on Facebook: (https://www.facebook.com/toniannanderson).

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Sometimes the right amount of spice can turn an okay dish into a magnificent one. Pinch of Salt by Bethany Lopez #Romance #NewRelease @InkSlingerPR


Today we are sharing the release of PINCH OF SALT by Bethany Lopez. A Pinch of Salt is the first book in an all-new contemporary romance series, Three Sister’s Catering. Check out the excerpt, teasers, and giveaway below for a chance to win a surprise book box!

Purchase your copy now!

 

 

A Pinch of Salt by Bethany Lopez

(Three Sisters Catering, #1)
Contemporary Romance

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Synopsis:

For the past year, talented chef Millie has been consumed with running her new catering business with her sisters, Dru and Tasha. It isn’t until Jackson walks through their door that she realizes something may be missing in the recipe of her life.

For the past year, Jackson has been dealing with the fallout of his wife’s abandonment. He’s had to learn how to be a single father to their eight-year-old daughter, and will do anything to fill the void her mother left. It isn’t until he commissions Millie for his daughter’s birthday party that he realizes he’s forgotten that he’s not only a father, but a man.

They both think they’re content in their lives, but sometimes the right amount of spice can turn an okay dish into a magnificent one. A Pinch of Salt may be all that’s needed to bring Millie and Jackson the flavor they’ve been missing.

 

Check out the Pinch of Salt Pinterest Board!

 


 

Purchase Now

Amazon | iBooks | Kobo | Nook | Smashwords

 

EXCERPT

“Fine,” I said with mock exasperation,” I’ll give you the cliff notes.”

Tasha kept her eyes on me as she waited expectantly. She’d recently cut off her long black hair that had matched mine and Dru’s in length into a cute bob, and dyed it a bright red. It totally suited her.

“The party was great, fantastic even. I had a blast decorating, and the girls loved it. I took pictures to show you guys, and for the website,” I began, but Tasha waved her hand, encouraging me to get to the good stuff. “Jackson asked me out,” I said with a shrug, then teased her by saying, “But, I said no.”

“Wha?” Tasha cried, standing and putting her hands on her hips. “Why’d you do that? I thought he was your diary dream man. At least, that’s what Dru said.”

I raised my eyebrow at my twin, who just stuck out her tongue at me and continued stretching her quads.

“He’s also married, and still wears his wedding ring,” I replied, then sighed and added, “But, he assured me that the marriage is very much over, the ring was just an oversight, and we’re going to meet up for coffee this week. So, not a date, just coffee.”

“A coffee date,” Dru said with a grin.

“Shut up,” I replied, but couldn’t hold back my answering smile. “I don’t know, you guys, he scares me.”

“Why?” Tasha asked. “Because you’ve been so focused on the business, and before that, Mom, that you haven’t met a man for coffee, let alone had one between your legs, since you and Dru were at USC?”

“That’s not true,” I argued, offended and a little embarrassed about how right my younger sister was. “There was Joshua…”

“Ewww,” my sisters groaned in unison.

“You mean that creeper guy who kept taking you to Anime movies and trying to get you to give him a handy in the theater?” Dru asked. “You really want to count that guy?”

 

 

GIVEAWAY

Use the hashtag #APINCHOFSALT on Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram, with the book’s buy links, for a chance to win a surprise book box!

Each box will contain the ARC and some incredible goodies! 

Now Available – $3.99

Amazon – http://bit.ly/PinchofSaltAMZ

iBooks – http://bit.ly/PinchofSaltIBOOKS

Kobo – http://bit.ly/PinchofSaltKOBO

Nook – http://bit.ly/PinchofSaltNOOK

Smashwords – http://bit.ly/PinchofSaltSW

 

 

 

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

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Award-Winning Author Bethany Lopez began self-publishing in June 2011. She’s a lover of all things romance: books, movies, music, and life, and she incorporates that into the books she writes. When she isn’t reading or writing, she loves spending time with her husband and children, traveling whenever possible. Some of her favorite things are: Kristen Ashley Books, coffee in the morning, and In N Out burgers.

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