Thanks, Julie Valerie, for loving Extracurricular.

ExtraJulieInsta

It’s always great to get a review for a new release from an author you greatly respect. Thank you, Julie Valerie from the bottom of my 💖,

—Josie

Extracurricular-Kindle

Extracurricular / Book 1

Signal Press
BOOK 1 of an Episodic Series of 3 Books
Digital ISBN:978-1-970093-00-1
Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-970093-02-5

amazon-2-icon AppleBooks unnamed kobo-blue

It's your child's senior year. 
A private high school's reputation is at stake.
A math teacher refuses to grade his final exams on a curve. 
Students have only one more shot at the SAT before college applications are due. 
And a few desperate parents with much more money than brains are willing to do anything to get their children into Ivy League colleges.

And Audrey's dirty little secret will soon be the downfall of everyone and everything she holds dear: love, family, friends, and her private high school alma mater.

In EXTRACURRICULAR, a dark family secret leads to a college admissions cheating scandal at a private school, setting off a crisis of conscience for the parents, teachers, administrator and the students involved—and a catharsis for one couple about their marriage.

The Odd Couple

ExtraPartners2Insta

One of the joys of writing a book is not only creating a backstory for your protagonists but also fully outlining your secondary characters. When I starting writing ExtracurricularI realized immediately that I could have fun with the FBI agents who are leading the investigation for the college admissions scandal: Lionel Polk and SallyAnne Jagger.

We meet them at the very beginning of the novel. Their interactions there show how such a seemingly Mutt-and-Jeff team can work in tandem by playing to each other's strengths. At the same time, this dynamic duo isn't immune to each other's weaknesses.

And, as you'll read in this excerpt, an chance exchange with one of the book's protagonists is the catalyst for acting on their mutual attraction.

But, before that can happen, they have to agree on one thing: that their key witness, a.k.a., Cooperating Witness 1, is a despicable character.

SallyAnne has already given her a nickname: Maleficent. Read the excerpt here and find out why…

Extracurricular-Kindle

Extracurricular / Book 1

Signal Press (Release Date: June 28, 2019)
BOOK 1 of an Episodic Series of 3 Books
Digital ISBN:978-1-970093-00-1

Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-970093-02-5

amazon-2-icon AppleBooks unnamed kobo-blue

It's your child's senior year. 
A private high school's reputation is at stake.
A math teacher refuses to grade his final exams on a curve. 
Students have only one more shot at the SAT before college applications are due. 
And a few desperate parents with much more money than brains are willing to do anything to get their children into Ivy League colleges.

And Audrey's dirty little secret will soon be the downfall of everyone and everything she holds dear: love, family, friends, and her private high school alma mater.

In EXTRACURRICULAR, a dark family secret leads to a college admissions cheating scandal at a private school, setting off a crisis of conscience for the parents, teachers, administrator and the students involved—and a catharsis for one couple about their marriage.

New Season, New Contest, and a New Series!

Extra1 Ad TW

EXTRACURRICULAR – BOOK 1 RELEASE DATE: JUNE 28, 2019. PRE-ORDER NOW!

amazon-2-icon imgres copyNook logo kobo-blue

 

 

Happy Almost Summer to You!

Now that San Francisco's monsoon rains have finally let up, Martin and I have been taking long walks every day. It's great to see flowers in bloom again!

The tulip trees were first, then the daffodils, followed by ice plant and calla lilies. Birds of Paradise seem to hang in there pretty much all year long, as do roses—always a pleasure to see.

Only one thing makes me happier than Spring—and that's BOOKS!
My next series, EXTRACURRICULAR, takes place over two generations and three episodic books.

It's a story about love, lust, and parents behaving badly when it comes to cheating on college entrance exams.

It may sound like a plot ripped from the headlines. Ironically, this was a story I began writing eight years ago…

So yeah, it's been on my mind for quite some time.

If you loved Totlandia or Secret Lives of Husbands and Wives, this is definitely the series for you!
The first novel in this series of three books launches on 
Friday, June 28, 2019—
Just in time for the July 4th Weekend.

And of course, to celebrate the heat AND a sizzling new book to read, 
I'm having a launch contest for Extracurricular – Book 1.

You can read about it below. I do hope you'll enter.
In fact, you'll have 6 chances to win.
Enjoy your summer—AND Extracurricular!
—Josie

Prizes

THE PRIZES

5 Contestants Will Win:

:A $10 Gift Card from the bookstore of your choice;

: An autographed copy of my novel, The Baby Planner (trade paperback); and

: A digital eBook of any one of my books (currently published, or a future title).

A 6th Contestant will be drawn as the Grand Prize Winner, and will Receive:

: A $50 Gift Card from the bookstore of your choice;

: A signed trade paperback copy of The Baby Planner;

A signed trade paperback copy of Extracurricular Book 1;

: An signed hardcover copy of The Housewife Assassin's Handbook;

: A digital eBook of one of my books—your choice! (currently published, or a future title);

: A jute tote bag sporting the Housewife Assassin logo—great for the beach or the store! And

: A stoneware ruffled pie dish from Crate + Barrel.

Talk about a fun bunch of prizes!

The contest ends Midnight Pacific Time on Midnight, Sunday, August 4, 2019

Talk about a fun bunch of prizes!

AND YOU CAN EARN BONUS POINTS!

Enter the Contest

The meal comes after you bait the hook.



Wormbait

Sometimes an analogy is needed to make a point. In this case, while talking about the return on a promotional investment, my very bright partner, Martin Brown, pointed out that while funds we'd put toward promoting a particular book (the worm) may have not gotten it in the hands of as many readers (the fish) as we'd hoped, but we were able to track those readers' purchases to the series as a whole. 

In other words, hook baited and fish caught — making for a satisfying meal (or, at least paying for a few.)

Here's to keep the line in the water,

—Josie

 

10 Things You Should Never Say to a Novelist

ApiringWriters_LoRez_colour

(c) 2005 Alex Steuart Williams  (FLIP) and Erica Rothschild

 

I'm being serious.

Okay, here goes:


1. "I'd write, too, but I can't stand the thought of all the trees I'd be killing." 

Yes, I've heard this one. My response back then was, "Don't worry. You won't sell enough books to raze a sapling, because your pub house won't push you that hard to begin with."

Today, I'd add, "And besides, most books are digital, so you can't use the tree-killer bullshit as an excuse not to write anymore."

 

2. "I'd write, too, but I just can't make the time."

Good. Stay busy. The world doesn't need anothor author. Here's a hint: It's not a hobby. It's a profession.

3. "Why don't you kill off your series' villian?" Because then I wouldn't have a series. And if I don't have a series, I don't have the rent money. I'll make you a promise: when and if he quits paying the rent, I'll quit writing about him.

 

4. "Honestly, what do you really do to pay the bills?"

 
I write novels and I'm proof that not all writers live a life of poverty.

Then again, I'm not JK Rowling, either.

If a writer is persistent and lucky, he or she will find that their income is somewhere in between minimum wage and unimagined wealth.

I'm not saying it's an easy way to make a living. It took years to crawl my way up beyond the government set poverty line. To make the rent, I wrote other things: game questions, greeting cards. magazine articles, even horoscopes. (No, I was not a licensed astrologist, just a mom with two growing kids who could go through money like the Pentagon).
 

 5. "The best authors–like JD Salinger, or, say Margaret Mitchell– only wrote one, or maybe a just few, books in their lifetime."

Oh, really? I guess that leaves out Dickens, Twain, Wharton, LeCarre, Dreisher, Trollope, James, Chandler, Christie, and Doyle, to name a few–all of whom are on my favorite authors list–along wtih Salinger and Mitchell.  

And by the way, some of the worst writers only wrote one book as well.

I'd say the odds are with those who get the most chances at the plate. Don't forget, Babe Ruth broke records for hitting home runs and for striking out. 

Not to mention, a writer's skill level rises each time up to bat. 
  

6. "When am I going to see you on the New York Times Bestsellers list?"

Maybe never–and that's okay with me. A Times review won't necessarily pay the bills. 

For that matter, a Times review won't necessarily be a good one. Just ask any author who has been scorched, panned, or ridiculed by one.
 

 7. "When will I see your book reviewed in the New York Times?"

Again, maybe never–and that too is okay with me. I write commercial literature–romantic suspense, funny mysteries, contemporary women's fiction–and those books usually don't get a NYT review unless they're deemed such a cultural phenomenon that even the Times can't ignore them. 

As for those authors who are waiting for some news outlet to review their books, all I can say is, good luck. Even the best New York publishing house publicist rarely scores a major newspaper review for a mid-list or debut author, let alone a segment on the Today Show.  Now, if you're willing to change your first name to Snooki, or your last name to Kardashian, you may actually get that review, or some air time.

It's just the way of the world: a ghosted celebrity can garner more air time for a mediocre book than a gifted author will receive for a notable work. 

So suck it up. 

Better yet, don't reach for the stars when that is not the lasting definition of success. You're better off working the crowd instead of waiting for the crowd to come to you. In fact, I know many authors whose books have gotten better–and substantially more reviews–than those I see in the Times–

From readers.

Rude awakening: many major newspapers have done away with book reviews–and book reviewers–altogether. That being said, the voices that are ever more important to authors are avid readers, especially those readers who are willing to write a review on the websites of the bookstores (both online, and brick-and-mortar) where they buy their books. Even better is when they chat up your books to friends.

In today's book market, a four-plus star reviews by hundreds of readers on an online bookseller's site can generate more sales than a few kind words in a Times review on any given Sunday.

Bottom line: word of mouth means everything.
 
 

8. "You can write more than one book a year? Hmmm. You're not an artist. You're not even a craftsman. You're…a hack!"

Here's the scoop. Even painters have to produce more than one painting in a lifetime–let alone a year–in order to eat, pay rent, and pay for their kids' braces.

The same goes for musicians. They have to play more than one gig. And songwriters have to write more than one song.

No one wants to be a one-hit wonder.

In fact, even one hit is akin to winning the lottery.

As for being a craftsperson: the proof is in the satisfaction of the buyer.

I'm very proud of my body of work. Every book has received an average of four or more stars. And every day, I get  letters from readers who were kind enough to take the time to tell me how much fun they had with my books, or how much they love my characters. I love to hear that it kept them up at night (it certainly did for me when I was writing any one of them!) or that they laughed so loud that it woke their spouses. 

That, my dear friends, is satisfaction.
 

9. "It must be nice to be able to set your own hours."

I write at least ten hours a day.

Believe it or not, some chapters are written in my sleep. 

When I'm not writing, I'm plotting. Or researching.

The creative process is the most important aspect of my profession. But the marketing of my books are just as important. That being said, when I'm not writing, plotting or researching, I'm concepting covers, going over edits from my proofers and editors–

And promoting, promoting, promoting.

In any regard, I'm thinking about my books twenty-four/seven.

None of it is easy. But it can certainly be rewarding. I guess that's what makes it a "job," and not a hobby.

10. "It must be great to have such a fun job."

I wouldn't be doing anything else. And I'll do it, as long as I please my readers–and myself.

But like any job, it's not always fun. Sometimes it's frustrating. Sometimes I disappoint myself with how slow I am at it. It takes time to craft a sentence, let alone a paragraph, a scene or a chapter.

Then you have to do it time and again, until you have a cohesive story. Creating a work that even you enjoy, despite having read it so many times, you want to scream.

I remember the reaction my sister had when I told her I'd sold my very first novel. "In fact, the contract is for two books," I proclaimed proudly.

This was met with a look of horror. "You mean, they can make you write another?" 

"God, I hope so," I declared.

 Eight years and seventeen novels later, I still feel that way. 

And, now a bonus comment…

11. "I've got a great idea for a book! Why don't I give it to you, and we can split what you make, 50/50?"

Ha ha! I get this one a lot! I've even gotten it from my sister.

Thank you, but I respectfully decline your offer. You see, I have so many ideas already, that I wonder if I'll have the lifespan in which to write them all.

And besides, at best, a concept is a one-liner (at the most ten words). Even if it's the best book concept in the world, but then you're leaving me with the heavy lifting–that is, coming up with the other eighty thousand words that makes it a book.

You see, a book may start out as a high concept, but it needs a beginning, a middle, and an end. That's a lot of sweat equity–especially if the concept doesn't resonate enough with you to (a) spend the time to research the era or topic, or (b) create characters who go through the motions to bring it to life–and make readers laugh, cry, or write you to tell you how much your words meant to them.

That being said, go ahead and write it, as only you could do.

And let me know when it's published. I look forward to reading it, and supporting you, just like you read and support me.

 

HA Prequel The-Housewife-Assassin's-Deadly-Dossier-FinalJosie Brown is the author of The Housewife Assassin's Handbook series, as well as the Totlandia series. Her next book, The Housewife Assassin's Deadly Dossier, will be released in June 2014.

“I don’t mind living in a man’s world…”

Marilyn-monroe-reading

 

"…as long as I can be a woman in it."

— Marilyn Monroe

 

____________________________

 

 

HA1 Handbook 768x1024

THE HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN'S HANDBOOK
Murder. Suspense. Sex. 
And some handy household tips.

978-0-9740214-0-9

FREE! 
ORDER NOW,  from

Amazon.com (US)  / Amazon.UK 
Also in all Amazon countries!

BN.com (99 cents)

Apple iTunes Bookstore  / Apple iTunes Bookstore (UK) 
In all iTunes countries!

KoboBooks

I want to whet your appetite for THE CANDIDATE. Here’s the opening scene.


The-Candidate-Final4
THE CANDIDATE

Signal Press – eBook

Buy it NOW, on 
Amazon (US)

Amazon (UK)

BN.com (US)

 

Seduction and intrigue are rampant on the campaign trail when a political campaign adviser discovers that Washington's power broker elite have embroiled his presidential candidate in a plot involving an act of terrorism on US soil…

SYNOPSIS

Democratic political campaign consultant Ben Brinker can’t remember the last time he was excited by a candidate’s vision. He feels he’s lost his way, both emotionally and professionally. Worst yet, his show-me-the-money policy seems to have finally caught up with him. Two of his recent clients have been disgraced in one way or another: a senator is caught in lurid sex scandal, and a congressman is indicted in a kickback scandal. In no time at all the political pundits are calling Ben a "candidate cooler." Now Ben is desperate for any campaign gig he can get.

As luck would have it, Andrew Harris Mansfield, the charismatic junior senator from North Carolina  and former Marine pilot, asks Ben if he wants to run his soon-to-be-announced campaign for president.

Little does Ben know what's in store for Andrew, or their country–

Nor does he realize that the key to saving both have been placed in his hands.

Read another excerpt here…

Enter THE CANDIDATE'S Contest for a $100 Gift Card!

 

EXCERPT

December 31st

It was an
unseasonably warm New Year’s Eve, and the throbbing mass of partygoers centered
around the fountain at the Bellagio was for the most part feeling no pain.

One
in particular was especially numb. His captors had made sure of it, doping him
up with a cocktail of drugs—a potent mix of zombie cucumber, scopolamine, and
some botulism thrown in for good measure—that left him too paralyzed to move,
to speak, to cry, let alone to shout out to the crowd that he was, quite
literally, a ticking time bomb.

As
the Bellagio’s famous fountain pulsated to the sensual sounds of Sinatra,
Carlos Rodriguez glared hard at those around him in the hope that someone—anyone—might be able to read the fear in
his eyes, if not for his sake, then for the rest of them. Illuminated in the
hotel’s many roving spotlights, their faces melded into a living collage:
flirting, blowing horns, laughing, and screaming. He tried to scream, too, but
nothing came out. Not a whisper. The drugs ensured that.

Then
there it was:  The countdown.

58…57…56…

The last three
months passed before his eyes, starting with the moment when that emotionless
U.S. Customs official pulled him out of the employee line crawling down the
gangplank of the Carnival Cruise ship on his one night of shore leave in Miami.
If he had assumed that his Venezuelan passport wouldn’t raise any flags with
her, he was wrong. She asked him some seemingly innocuous questions about his purpose
for coming into the country.

His answers,
innocent enough, still landed him in some hot, dusty hellhole.

There, Carlos was
stripped naked, shackled in a fetal position, or made to squat in his own
waste. During the scalding heat of the day, he was given little water to quench
his thirst, and no blanket when the night temperatures dropped to freezing. As
bad as the daily beatings were, the threat of being drowned, tortured, or
bitten by his captors’ hounds of Hell was even worse.

He was no longer
a man, only a number. They called him Catorce—the
number, fourteen, in Spanish.

From the scared
whispers and coded taps he heard from the other young Venezuelaños also isolated in the prison’s catacomb of cells,
Carlos learned that, like him, they had all come from poor remote villages.
None were married or had any immediate family, either back home or here in the
United States.

In time, the capitano of their captors, the human
devil named “Smith,” told them that they were to play very important roles in
the freedom and prosperity of both their old and new countries.

And that was how
they were told that they were to be suicide bombers.

When that
day—today—finally came, the men were taped down front and back with the bombs,
then dressed in nice slacks, collared sweaters and beige cashmere jackets,
their hair lightened and spiked. Yes, now they could easily pass as well-to-do
gringos. Then they were drugged.

Two hours later,
seven vans carrying the human bombs pulled up in front of the seven hotels
hosting Las Vegas’ world famous fireworks: the Flamingo, the MGM Grand, Circus
Circus, Treasure Island, the Venetian and the Bellagio, all the way north to
the Stratosphere.

Only Carlos had
been paired with another bomber: some kid, maybe seventeen or so, who had
entered their hellhole only the day before. His captors called him Trece, the Spanish word for the number
thirteen. Although muscle paralysis had set in quickly, Carlos’s mind was still
alert. He could tell that the boy, Trece, was also trying to fight the effects
of the drugs. The look in his eyes wasn’t terror, but determination.

Señor Smith had
ridden shotgun in their van. When the van reached the Bellagio, Smith roughly
yanked Carlos out the back. After positioning him in the heart of the teeming,
screaming mass of humanity in front of the fountain, he slapped Carlos on his
back and whispered in his ear: “Look at it this way—at least you and the others
will die heroes’ deaths for your new country…” before casually strolling away.

Out of the corner
of his eye, Carlos watched as Smith reappeared with Trece the boy. They moved
in the opposite direction though; deep into Bellagio’s thickening crowd.

What had Smith
called him, a hero? No, Carlos was more like a fantasma…

A ghost who would haunt the United States for years to come.

45…44…43…

At
the thought of that, the tears that could not fall glistened in his eyes.

In
front of him a cluster of unattached women unraveled quickly in order to sidle
up to whatever single men were still around. Any moment now they would bestow
the first kiss of the year on some lucky stranger, one of the joys of being
young and single on this special night—

37…36…35…

One
girl, pretty in pink, her blond hair grazing her bare shoulders, glanced over
at him. By her quizzical look he could tell she’d noticed his tears. She waved
at him. Of course he couldn’t wave back. No matter. Undeterred, she swam
against the deep wave of humanity between them, to his side.

A
burly red-haired man, watching the exchange, glared hard at Carlos. The fact
that he didn’t respond irritated the man, like a red flag waved at a moody
bull. He grabbed the women’s arm, she tried to shake him off, but he shoved
passed her, hell bent on reaching Carlos first.

Her
boyfriend perhaps, determined to win her back? Que lastima! Perhaps the lovers could
make amends in heaven, because in a mere twenty-two seconds, the bomb strapped
to Carlos’ chest would blow all of them to pieces…

 

(c) 2013 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. This excerpt may not be resold or redistributed without prior written permission from Josie Brown or Signal Press Books (info@signaleditorial.com).

 

Read another excerpt here…

Enter THE CANDIDATE'S Contest for a $100 Gift Card!



Hump Day Haiku: “A Day Late”

Louvre_tower_clock

Day late, dollar short/

Join me in slowing things down/

Now, look around. BREATHE.

— Josie

 

HAH-2-Book-Set (3)

 

The Housewife Assassin's
Killer 2-Book Set / Only $3.99!

 

Book 1 – The Housewife Assassin's Handbook

Book 2 – The Housewife Assassin's
Guide to Gracious Killing

 

Buy it on Amazon!Nook-buttonLogo_kobo


Join me at Pitchfest!

Leo and Carey Great Gatsby

Hey, if it happened to F. Scott Fitzgerald, it can happen to you.

One of America's most celebrated authors died penniless, his greatest opus, The Great Gatsby, nearly forgotten…

Except by Hollywood.

Since his death, his book,  has been adapted for the screen an extraordinary five times.

It's also been an opera, a ballet, a musical, a straight play, and get this: two video games.

 Can you increase the odds that your book will find its way onto the silver screen?

Is a novel an alternative route to get your screenplay into the hands of producers?

The answer to both these questions is a resounding yes. To find out how, join me in Los Angeles on Saturday, June 1, 2013, where I'll giving a workshop with the incomparably divine Laurie Scheer at Pitchfest called, "Adapting your Screenplay as a Book" .

Details are below.

It'll be worth it,

— Josie

 

Photo: Leonardo DiCaprio and Carey Mulligan
in Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby 

Adapting Your Screenplay as a Book
4:30pm – 6:00pm – Academy Five
with Josie Brown & Laurie Scheer
So, you’ve pitched your screenplay and a few agents have said, “I could sell that idea if it were a novel.” Know that you’re not alone. So, what should you do? Josie Brown, best-selling novelist and Laurie Scheer, d-girl extraordinaire and publishing mentor, guide you through a workshop presentation that includes in-class exercises, tangible examples, and an extensive Q&A segment to help you determine how your screenplay will look as a book. With the majority of studio projects being produced from existing properties and franchises (books, comics, games, apps, etc.), adapting your screenplay into book form is an option many screenwriters have found success doing—and many others are considering it. Before you begin the process of writing prose vs. script, there are a few elements you need to know.

 
Click here to register for Pitchfest 

Click below to see a trailer from the movie, THE GREAT GATSBY


One of my favorite scenes in THE HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN’S GUIDE to GRACIOUS KILLING

Zip1Whenever I re-read a book I've written, invariably I'll run across a scene that made me laugh, cry, or shiver with delight as I wrote it.

 This  scene, in The Housewife Assassin's Guide to Gracious Killing (Book 2 of the series) is one of those. And it rated a "shiver with delight." Read it, and then you'll know what I mean.

— Josie

Excerpt

Chapter 4
How to Choose
a Party Dress

When you’re a guest at
someone else’s soirée, your first impression should be also be a lasting
one—and certainly not because you either overdressed, or underdressed, for the
occasion. When in doubt, keep it simple and elegant: black, with pearls.

If the dress code is not
in the invitation, take the time to query your host regarding the proper
attire.

Note of caution: should
your host’s recommendation include, say, crotchless panties, a naughty
schoolgirl plaid skirt, brocade ankle restraints and a head harness with a
muzzle gag, be sure to bring along something you’ll know he deserves, for
getting on your bad side.

A cement overcoat will
do nicely.

 ****

“Go with the backless one. You’ve got the
shoulders to carry it off.”

I turn around to see who’s offering an opinion
on my hunt for the right gown to the Breck shindig tonight. My advisor is a man
who sits on a settee in a darkened corner of the Bergdorf-Goodman couture
suite, just off to the side of the circular bank of mirrors.

While I’ve been scrutinizing my profile, he’s
been admiring my shoulders, supposedly. But only now does he lift his eyes—from
somewhere far below my shoulders—to meet mine.

From the look of his suit (made to measure for a
man whose fit physique would look great in a gunnysack, let alone a
fifteen-thousand-dollar charcoal gray Brioni) he has great taste.

He should. He is Jonah Stanford Breck IV, one of
the wealthiest men in the world.

Sweetly, I smile at him through the mirror. “You
like it better than the blue one?”

His eyes sweep over me, appraisingly. “Much more
so. Albeit the blue sets off your… eyes.”

I laugh at his ridiculous attempt to avoid the
obvious. My eyes are brown. What looks great in the blue dress is my ass.

We both know it.

“Great, then. The blue one’s the charm.”

“You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

“Not a ball, really. Just dinner. In fact, I’ll
be dining at your place, Mr. Breck.”

His eyes, gray like his trimmed sideburns, flash
suspiciously for a moment before dulling into wariness.

“Your wife, Babette, extended the invitation. My
daughter, Trisha, has been playing with Janie all afternoon. I presume Babette
felt the diversion would be welcomed.”

“Ah! How thoughtful of her. She’s right. These
business affairs can be deadly without a few petite amusements.”

  As if on
cue, a woman in a flesh-toned, sparkly low-cut gown walks out of one of the
dressing rooms and over to Breck. She turns her back toward him, just slightly.
“Zip me up, will you, darling?” Her murmur is deep and soft, like velvet.

Slowly, he runs the zipper along the swayed arch
of her back then pats her ass, not so much to let her know he is done with her,
but as a promise that he isn’t.

His eyes stay with her as she makes her way back
to the dressing room. Finally, as if remembering I was still in the room, he
adds, “She’s Babette’s personal shopper. Unlike me, after eight years of
marriage, my wife finds trekking through stores ‘a chore and a bore.’ Marilyn
is exactly her size and coloring, so these little shopping excursions are
win-win for everyone. Beautiful, don’t you agree?”

“The woman or the dress?”

He points to my profile in the mirror. “A
beautiful woman makes the dress.”

I smile my thanks. “Then I presume I’ve just had
a preview of what Babette will be wearing?”

His smile fades. “Don’t presume anything.
Babette doesn’t always agree with my taste.”

“A shame. So fetching.”

It is his turn to ask, “The woman, or the
dress?”

“Since you’re paying, you tell me.”

He laughs uproariously at that. “I always do.
And dearly.”

“Speaking of the dear, will she be joining us
for dinner?”

His smile hardens into a smirk. “Later. Dessert.
I have a voracious appetite, especially for sweet things.” His eyes catch mine
in the mirror. “Remember, dinner at eight. Sharp.”

By the time I leave the dressing room, Jonah
Breck and his personal shopper have already checked out.

When I take my dress to the sales clerk, she
informs me, “Mr. Breck put it on his tab. He asked me to relay his sincere
appreciation for your daughter’s hospitality, and he looks forward to returning
it, personally.”

I guess I can tell Ryan he need not worry
whether we’ll get close enough to the summit’s host. If Breck has his way,
we’ll be up close and personal.

Or at least, I will.

Oh yeah, Jack should love that.

(c) 2012 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. This excerpt may not be resold or redistributed without prior written permission from Josie Brown or Signal Press Books (info@signaleditorial.com).

 


Guide-to-Gracious-Killing-FinalThe Housewife Assassin's 
Guide to Gracious Killing 
(Book 2) Only $3.99! 

Signal Press / In bookstores now!

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Read another excerpt here...

 

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 Haven't yet read Book 1, The Housewife Assassin's Handbook? Get it for free, along with Book 2, in 

The Housewife Assassin's Killer 2-Book Set
Only $3.99!

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The Housewife Assassin’s Relationship Survival Guide has a Mother-Daughter talk about (Yep, you guessed it) S-E-X!

Nails1

I love this scene because it says a lot about my heroine, Donna's, relationship with her oldest child, twelve-year-old Mary. And since this book is all about the cause and effect of trust and love, it's a perfect scene to share with you.

I hope you enjoy it!

— Josie

 

EXCERPT

“When
did you first start having sex?” Mary asks.

Her
question causes me to swipe the nail polish brush over her pinky toe, and the
one beside it.

It’s
Day Eight of my lockdown. I was wrong to presume that time would pass quicker
if I painted my nails a different color each day. Initially I was able to
coerce both Mary and Trisha to join me for my daily pampering session, but
yesterday Trisha dropped out, despite the fact that the colour de jour was Disney Villain’s Cruella De Vil.

Her
excuse: “Mommy, Cruella is a meanie. Besides, my toes miss being plain old
pink.” That was her way of telling me I need a new hobby.

Don’t
I know it.

Considering
the subject at hand, I’m okay that today it’s just Mary and me. But let’s face
it, she’s asked a loaded question. Girls have sex so much earlier than we did.
(Well, than I did…) If I answer honestly, she may think I was a slut. Or a
desperate spinster.

 Either way, I come off as a loser.

The
GPS security bracelet on my ankle, coupled with freshly painted toes on my left
foot, hobble me as I stumble over to the French doors that separate the sunroom
from the media room. I lied and told the kids the bracelet was from my doctor,
to strengthen my ankle against some imaginary tendonitis.

Now
I have a bigger issue to fib about: Sex.

I’m
closing the doors so that my ten-year-old son, Jeff, and his pals, Cheever Bing
and Morton Smith, can’t listen in on our discussion. If anything can tear them
away from Minecraft, it’s a discussion about S-E-X by two people of the
opposite sex, especially if one is Jeff’s older sister.

I
settle back down onto the couch and try to collect my thoughts before speaking.
“I waited until I knew I was with ‘the one’.”

I’m
lying, of course. Who the hell knows a guy is “the one” when they’re seventeen?
Or twenty-seven, for that matter.

I
guess the proof I guessed wrong was when Carl left me with three kids.

But
yes, I presumed he was “the one.” What I didn’t count on was his also being Public Enemy Number One.

While
Mary tries to find meaning in my dodge, I add, “Why exactly do you want to
know?”

“Because—”
she pauses. “No reason. I was just wondering.”

Ah,
I see.

Mary
is twelve going on twenty, and that freaks me out. Her quote-unquote steady is
a cute kid named Trevor Smith, the captain of the Hilldale Middle School
varsity basketball team. Right now, I want to break both his arms before he
does something to Mary that he’ll regret, and she will, too.

“Sex
is different from love, Mary.”

“Oh,
Mom!” Mary rolls her eyes. “I know that!”

“Okay,
I’ll take your word for it. So, tell me: why are they different?”

She
stops to think about it. Then: “When you date, some guys only want to see how
far they can get with you. You know…they don’t really treat you as a person.”
She shakes her head sadly. “I don’t want to be that kind of girl.”

I
nod, but say nothing. Inside I’m doing a happy dance because she actually knows
the difference.

“But
I think it’s exciting when a boy—a guy—is
just as sweet on you as you are on him.”

“I
can see that.” I try to keep my tone nonchalant as I drench a cotton ball in
polish remover and wipe off yesterday’s sparkly turquoise from Mary’s left
foot. “But love is different, at different ages and stages of life. And so is
dating. That’s why it’s smart to date more than one guy, so you have some other
experiences for comparison. The good guys always show respect, and never push you
to—to do anything that doesn’t seem right.”

“Did
you date a lot, before you met Dad?”

“Yes,
I’d dated some, but I wasn’t that experienced.” I’m sure the color of my cheeks
is almost as dark and purple as the polish I’m applying to her nails. “I was
twenty when we met, and I was in college. We married within a year, after I
turned twenty-one.”

“Did
you feel you should have waited?”

“No.
At least, not at the time.”

“But
in hindsight, would you have liked to have had more experiences?”

“Yes,
I wish I had. It’s hard to know what’s right for you if you’ve had too few
experiences, or have only experienced one relationship that is not really
working for you.”

Mary
looks up sharply. “But Dad wasn’t wrong for you, was he?”

Ah,
yet another trick question. “Dad has changed a lot over the years. Then again,
I have, too. “You see, Mary, not only must you both grow, you can’t have grown
apart.”

“When
Dad was gone all that time, did you grow apart?”

Her
question rips a tiny tear in my heart. Does she suspect that Jack isn’t Carl
Stone, her father?

I
search her face for the answer. What I see is innocence and curiosity.

And
trust.

It’s
why I can answer her from the bottom of my heart. “To stay in love, you need
respect, and passion, and above all, trust. All the time I waited for him, I
trusted he would come home again.”

Carl
never really came home.

On
the other hand, Jack has proven to me he is worth the wait.

Mary’s
comprehension comes with a slow nod. “Mom, I think Trevor likes me as much as I
like him, but sometimes I catch him looking at other girls, and that makes me
jealous. So I don’t know about the ‘trust’ part. At least, not yet.”

“To
find true love at such a young age is a rare thing. If it’s real, he’ll wait
until you grow into the woman you were meant to be, and he’ll grow up, too.
You’ll stay friends, but have other friends as well: people who make you laugh,
and who you can count on to be there for you, and who will prove their
friendship through trust.  If he stays
your friend, he will be all that, and more.”

Mary
waits until her toes dry, then she kisses me on the cheek and murmurs, “Don’t
worry, Mom. I’m not ready for ‘that’ yet. I’m only asking because I know you’ll
always tell me the truth.”

The truth. Yes, it’s what
we strive to know.

I
pray she never learns the truth about her father.

“Besides,”
she adds, “when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know.”

She
kisses me on the forehead then runs upstairs to do her homework.

Lucky
me.

And no matter
where that first boy hides, I will track him down.

HA-RSG-Final-V2

© 2013 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Author.

The Housewife Assassin's
Relationship Survival Guide

(Book 4 of The Housewife Assassin series) 

Buy it on

Amazon.com  BN.com  KoboBooks.com

 Read other excerpts at HousewifeAssassinsHandbook.com

The Housewife Assassin’s Relationship Survival Guide is now on sale!

HA-RSG-Final-V2

 

                                                       Buy it on Amazon!  Nook-button

(Soon on Kobo and Apple iTunes Bookstore, too)

 

Worth the wait? I think so! Hopefully, you will too. Here are the deets:

London. Paris. Guantanamo Bay. Donna Stone is looking for love — and terrorists — in all the wrong places.

In this fourth full-length novel of  The Housewife Assassin series, Donna Stone finds out that breaking up is hard to do.  Then again, so is dating a terrorist,  let alone eleven of them! 

Does this make Donna a serial dater,  or a serial killer?

Worse yet, an old flame gets in the way of Donna's chance for true love. But she doesn't cry…She gets even.

 Read an excerpt..
 

Then enter My Contest to win a $100 Gift Card!


(A small portion of this book appeared as a novella in "Guns and Roses: A Murder She Writes Anthology".)

 

This is how I feel when a reader writes me to tell me how much she loves my books…

Happy-woman
I'm always in awe of those readers who take the time out of their busy days to write me a little note, telling me how much they've enjoyed one of my books. Here's and excerpt of one I got just this morning, for the Totlandia series:

"Hi!  I can't get enough of your books!  Please tell me Totlandia 4 is coming out soon. LOL. I hope you will continue the series after 4, your books are so fun to read, that I can't put them down. It so nice to have something to escape too, when you are a working mom with children!   Love your work!"  – D.H.

Thank you, D.H., for appreciating my characters, and for validating all the hard work I put into my novels. Letters such as this one are why we authors write. You are exactly who I wish to write for, to share time with, and to entertain. 

Truly, it made my day! I feel just like the woman, above,

xoxo

Josie



Totlandia5_2

TOTLANDIA
Book 1: The Onesies/Fall

Coliloquy Books / 978-0-9740214-0-9 / eBook

Buy it now…

Amazon.com (eBook)

Amazon.com (App)

BN.com (eBook)

 BN.com (App)


Friendship. Lies. Seduction. Betrayal. 
Welcome to Totlandia.

The salacious secrets of Desperate Housewives meet the aspirational lifestyles of Sex and the Cityin San Francisco’s most elite mommies group

In this sometimes bittersweet (and always humorous) novel, the friendships among four women who meet in a moms-and-tots playgroup are tested as they address their presumptions, family traumas, love, passion, and the hard realities of parenting their children.

READ AN EXCERPT HERE…

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE…

 

From the bottom of my heart, thanks for all the praise.


IHEARTU

Every now and again, I'll run across a reader review that makes me proud of the fact that I've stuck it out as a novelist. Here are a few examples.

I just want to say to those of you who have read me and passed along a few kind words about my book: thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I try to write books I would love to read myself, with characters who grab at my heartstrings, too. Knowing that you're along for the right makes it just that much sweeter.

 

— Josie

 

Baby Planner Low ResAbout The Baby Planner:

"Such a great book, found myself not wanting to put it down. I wasn't me anymore, i became the character. I felt what she felt. her pain, her heartache,her longing and her success. I look forward to seeing what else Josie Brown has written." –M,  New Zealand.

 

 

 


Totlandia5_2About Totlandia, The Onesies, Fall (Book 1)

"I first discovered Josie when I read "True Hollywood Lies" (which I could not put down). I'm not a mom but I picked up the Totlandia series because I love Josie's writing and Totlandia definitely does NOT disappoint. It's a good, fun read – the dialogue is entertaining and funny and the characters are relatable, most are likable, and all have a depth to them that is hard to accomplish in a page turner. I definitely find myself having favorites. For anyone worried about the reviews saying that the book ends without resolution, I completely disagree. There is resolution – as one mom does get cut. And there's a little teaser at the end of Book One which only makes me want to read Book Two that much more." — J.K.

and

"I read the first book which was gifted to me…then immediately bought the other 2 books. I couldn't put them down! One review I read said these are better than crack and she was right! I am completely frustrated that I have to wait 3 months for the next one to come out….but that is part of the allure, I guess. Josie has a way of leaving you hanging so you just HAVE TO KNOW what happens next to the characters. Josie Brown has quickly become one of my favorite authors so I am devouring everything she has written. Highly recommend this series, whether you are a mom or not." — A.Z.

 


Guide-to-Gracious-Killing-FinalThe Housewife Assassin's Guide to Gracious Killing
(The Housewife Assassin Series, Book 2)

"I truly enjoyed reading this book. I didn't want to put it down. I found myself thinking about the story when I wasn't reading it, anticipating the next time I'd get back to it. It was funny and engaging." — V

and

"A good writer makes for ease of reading. Fast paced action breaks the mundane day to day life to a whole new level. I laughed, cried and laughed some more. Great read to bring a lighter mood into our hurried world." — D.M., TN

 

 


ITT 200About Impossibly Tongue-Tied

"About a half hour after finishing this book (10 min ago), I came to the realization that this wonderful book took another layer of shine off of movies and Hollywood. People will do some pretty nasty things for fame and the public will still give it to them. Now, it will be hard not to look at acclaimed actresses and wonder if their sweet personalities aren't also an act. Or if my favorite Hollywood heart-throb is cheating on his girlfriend/wife. I would have given this book 6 stars if the author had just provided one or two actors/actresses with sweet and loyal this in the book. Because, like many of my generation, I may not be ready to face what Hollywood has become.
3) The ending was really romantic but I still wish that the author had given us more of a peek into what Nina's future life holds professionally speaking.

I'm sorry for the rant but if you're still reading, this book was worth the disillusionment about Hollywood."  - Z., Florida

 

 

Novelist Eileen Goudge introduced me to Capitola’s historic, colorful beach villas.

Capitola
Had I known how beautiful this little seaside town was, I would have come here sooner.

Believe it or not, it is renowned as the oldest beach resort on the West Coast. Its name mimicks that of a heroine in a novel dating back to the 1867: The Hidden Hand, by E.D.E.N. Southworth.

If you guessed E.D.E.N. was a woman, you're right. To get published back then, many women wrote under pseudonyms, which could be taken for men's names, and gain an audience.

The villas, shown above, are the very first condominums. Go figure. Wish I owned one now. They overlook Monterrey Bay, scanning it from its north shore. The old Capitola Pier is still standing, and far enough out to fish from it.

The day we were there with novelist Eileen Goudge, a seal was frolicking in the surf.

Thank goodness Eileen and I can use our real names. Her books, wonderful tales of contemporary women who have had a fall from grace but find redemption, are tightly plotted. My favorite is Woman in Red.

But hey Eileen writes so prolifically, you'll have several others to read afterward.

 

— Josie

Thanks, Vee, whomever you are, for loving The Housewife Assassin series!

Guide-to-Gracious-Killing-FinalThis is what a reader said about The Housewife Assassin's Guide to Gracious Killing  (Book 2) on Amazon:

 

"I truly enjoyed reading this book. I didn't want to put it down. I found myself thinking about the story when I wasn't reading it, anticipating the next time I'd get back to it. It was funny and engaging."

— Vee

 

Thank you, Vee, whomever you are! It made my day. We authors live and die by our reviews. It's how other readers find books that may resonate with them.

So thank you, too, for championing books you love (mine, and those of others).

— Josie

Read an excerpt here…

It’s not a party unless you show up…

Tot3 launch party poster

TOTLANDIA
Book 3: The Onesies/Spring

In Bookstores Now!

Coliloquy Books
978-1-937804-16-9 / 
eBook

Buy it on Amazon.com

Buy it on BN.com

 

To celebrate the launch of Totlandia: The Onesies, Book 3 (Spring),
join me for a fantabulous Twitter party, and a chance to win a free copy of Book 3!

Now is the time to ask me all your must-know questions about
Jade, Brady, Ally, Lorna, Jillian….and of course, Bettina!
I'll also be tweeting some trivia on all the Onesies moms,
and asking your opinion about some of the characters you love…and love to hate!

Looking forward to having you join me!

– Josie

@JosieBrownCA

 

____________________________

 

Spring comes in like a lamb as the exclusive
Pacific Heights Moms & Tots Club welcomes its newest members.
But that tranquility belies a storm brewing,
as new tensions and old rivalries come to a head.

The surviving moms are ready to reap the rewards of membership,
but none of them counted on club founder, Bettina Connaught Cross,
needing a pick-me-up from a bitter betrayal.
While lesser women might cry into their pillows,
Bettina finds comfort in exerting control over her domain.

With Bettina on a rampage, the new Onesies are trying to stay out of sight
long enough to deal with their own issues:
Lorna wants to tell her family about Dante’s autism,
but keeping it on her own terms could be difficult
when her hippie mom and socialite mother-in-law meet for the first time.
Jillian fights to regain her financial footing and confront her own insecurities,
finding comfort in an unexpected place.
And Ally can’t bear the thought of hurting Jade,
so she continues to bury her feelings for Brady.

But when another desperate housewife stirs the mix,
Jade could become a pawn in an even more devious game.
It’s no ordinary spring in Totlandia, as emotions build to a fury and end with a roar.

________________________________

EXCERPT

Friday, 4 January

8:14 a.m.

“What do you mean I don’t qualify for unemployment benefits?” Jillian Frederick’s hand was shaking so hard she could barely hold the phone to her ear.

It had taken her almost an hour to get more than an automated voice on the line, someone who could actually answer her questions about how to file a claim. Within that hour, her cell phone beeped because its battery was low. To top it off, someone had just texted her. No doubt the waiting text was zapping her juice as well.

“Sorry, my dear, but them’s the breaks.” The Unemployment Office clerk practically yawned in Jillian’s ear. “You worked for, like what… two months? And for minimum wage at that. What did you expect?”

“My husband left me and our two babies a few months ago. It was the only job I could find!”

“Seriously, hon, I feel for you. But I’m not Dear Abby, and the Unemployment Office isn’t your parents’ ATM.”

“This is an emergency! I may lose my house! I supported my ex-husband through college, so I’m sure my benefits from back then still count, don’t they? Listen, can you check and see how far back you can go?” 

Just then one-year-old Amelia yanked a branch of the Christmas tree so hard that three glass ornaments fell and cracked. Both she and her twin sister, Addison, wailed in union.

As Jillian scooped both girls up into her arms to cuddle them before they grabbed at the glass shards, the cell phone fell out of her hand, hitting the cold marble floor with a loud crack.

“Oh my God! Are you—are you okay?” Jillian could barely hear her own voice over her daughters’ wails.

 “I think you broke my eardrum,” the clerk finally retorted.

“I’m so sorry! One of my daughters almost pulled down our Christmas tree.” Jillian was trying with all her might to keep the tears out of her voice. “Listen, isn’t there any way to find out if those benefits are still good?”

“Yeah sure. What’s your maiden name?”

“McKeever.”

“I’ll check. Let me put you on hold again.”

Hold? Oh my God, no! My phone battery is dying, and I was on hold for forty minutes before I reached you! Can’t you just all me back? Wait!”

But it was too late. She was being serenaded by a symphonic version of the Black-Eyed Peas’ “Boom Boom Pow.”

Frustrated, Jillian fell back onto the couch. The drop in altitude left the toddlers giggling. They smacked Jillian’s face as if that would relieve her too-early-in-the-morning exhaustion. She sighed, forced her lips into a smile and wiped the tears from her eyes before opening them.

Truth be told, even if she hadn’t been canned, Jillian’s credit card bills were mounting so fast that no amount of generous tips could’ve saved her. She was now four months behind on her SUV’s payments. She hid the car in the alley behind her house so she could dodge the repo man who kept knocking on the door. As it was, she barely used the damn thing, except for Costco and Wal-Mart runs. Having rammed it repeatedly into the Porsche of her philandering soon-to-be ex, Scott, her car’s bumper now scraped her front wheels on tight turns.

Last week she had just managed to scrape together the money to pay the gas and electric bill. To keep them under fifty dollars a month, she closed off the vents in every room of her rambling mansion on Pacific Street except for the kitchen and the nursery, where for the most part Addison and Amelia slept and played, or burned used paperbacks in the old home’s fireplaces.

 She had traded the convenience of her pricey local Whole Foods and the neighborhood grocery markets on Union, Polk, and Chestnut streets for Chinatown’s vegetable markets, where produce could be purchased for less than half the price.

The thought of collecting unemployment benefits shamed her. But it was going on three weeks since she lost her job, and she had to do something, anything.

She was too proud to give up the home she had so lovingly restored. Further, it would have been one more intolerable defeat at the hands of her two-timing husband.

A commotion coming from the alley behind her house roused her from where she sat prostrate on the couch. She picked up both girls before walking to the window, just in time to see her SUV being hoisted onto a flatbed truck.

She set the girls down in their playpen and ran down the stairs and out the side door. The tow operator, a large bear of a man sporting tattoos on every inch of skin not covered by his jeans or the jacket emblazoned with Bay Area Repo, had already chained down her vehicle.

Jillian grabbed his arm. “Wait! That’s my car! Where do you think you’re taking it?”

The man shrugged. “Back to the dealership. Sorry, lady, three missed payments means they own it again.”

“How will I get around without it? It’s the only transportation I’ve got, and I have two toddlers! Please—”

He looked down at her. “Nothing I can do about it. Here’s a tip, though. Next time, disengage the GPS so we can’t find it so easily. Just sayin’.”

If only she’d known that earlier.

She watched as he backed the truck through the alleyway before gunning it down Pacific Street. Then it occurred to her that she’d left the kids alone inside. Both were now adept at catapulting themselves over the playpen’s side with a kamikaze flip they’d learned from their little gal pal, Zoe Thornton. She ran back into the house.

Too late. The girls were toddling toward the Christmas tree.

She grabbed them just before they hit the field of broken glass.

Now, for her cell phone. Where had she put it?

It took her a full five minutes before she realized she’d tossed it into the playpen with the girls. By the time she did, it was too late. The damn battery had gone dead.

She threw it back down into the playpen.

Big mistake. The girls climbed down out of her arms and into the playpen after it. She was just about to fish out all three one more time when the doorbell rang.

Who the hell could it be now? Jillian wondered. Before she opened the door, she looked through the peephole.

Scott.

She slumped up against the wall. What the hell was he doing there?

© 2013 Josie Brown. Published in 2012 by Coliloquy Books. All rights reserved. This work is protected under copyright laws and reproduction is strictly prohibited. Permission to reproduce the material in any manner or medium must be secured from the Publisher.

 

Squeeee! Want a free sneak peek of the cover for HOUSEWIFE ASSASSIN’S VACATION TO DIE FOR?

Okay, here it is.

And here's the deets on the fine mess Donna and Jack will be getting into:


HA-Vacation-to-Die-For-Final (1)The Housewife Assassin's 
Vacation to Die For
(Book 5) 
 

In Online Bookstores August 2, 2013

A nude sunbathing serial killer, rabid (literally) eco-terrorists, mafia hit men…
Talk about a fantasy (nightmare?) island!

Breck Industry's former getaway, Misfit Quay, as redeveloped into  three resorts. 
There's something for everyone:

Like Kamp KidStuff, where families frolic among dolphins, cartoon characters, and (due to a major booking glitch) warring Cosa Nostra families having separate reunions; 

And Eden Key, a nude singles sanctuary where tiki-hut treehouses provide the perfect setting for rum-fueled romances and casual hook-ups—not to mention the occasional swinger slashing…

Finally, there's Hunters Paradise, an exclusive club which caters to big game hunters seeking a most unusual quarry:
humans who are political prisoners of countries doing business with the Quorum. 

And you call this a vacation?

 

And in case you missed it…

 

The Housewife Assassin's 
HA-RSG-Final-V2

Relationship Survival Guide
(Book 4)

Signal Press

In Online Bookstores March 21, 2013!

Read an excerpt..

In this fourth full-length novel of 
The Housewife Assassin series, 
Donna Stone finds out that
breaking up is hard to do. 
Then again, so is dating a terrorist, 
let alone eleven of them!
Does this make Donna a serial dater, 
or a serial killer?

Worse yet, an old love gets in the way of Donna's chance for true love. 
But she doesn't cry…She gets even.
 

 

(A small portion of this book appeared as a novella in 
"Guns and Roses: A Murder She Writes Anthology".)

 

In the meantime, catch up on previous books in The Housewife Assassin series.

 

— Josie



Author excerpt game! Should I choose page 7 or 77?

For years now, I've called novelist Eileen Rendahl my evil twin, for good reason: her books have a snarky irreverance that remind me of my own.

Now I have another reason to say we're joined at the hip (along with six other of her closest author pals): I've been
tagged by her to play "7 or 77."

Here's how it works. I go to either page 7 or 77 of my latest manuscript — in my case, The Housewife Assassin's Killer Christmas Tips,
count down 7 lines, then copy the next 7 lines here

After that, I get
to name 7 more authors to come out and play. Mine are Kate Perry, Kristin Harmel, Susan C. Shea, Karin Tabke, Tawny Weber, Stephanie Bond, and Deborah Coonts and Laura Griffin. Hopefully by the time you've read this, they've put up an excerpt of their latest. If not, you can check out their books on their websites. Each has a unique voice, and their stories — anything from thrillers to women's contemporary to romance —  range from heartwrenching to poignant to laugh out loud funny.

Okay, this is from page 77 of The Housewife Assassin's Killer Christmas Tips

Enjoy!

— Josie



Louis-vuitton-plane-private-jet-luxury-travel

By the time I’m finished, Melmud’s Kickapoo Joy Juice has kicked in.


“Who is the Quorum?” My voice is gentle but authoritative.


“Infidels. But they pay well for arms. Enough for me to buy the mansion next
door to Oprah in Montecito. But Oprah’s dogs crap in my yard all the time.
Still, I don’t mind. They are Oprah’s dogs! Some are Labs, but also a couple of
Springer spaniels. Not to mention the golf club in Montecito is top notch. I
have a two handicap. Soon they will soon make me a member. I am sure of it.”


Someone should have warned me SP-117 leads to diarrhea of the mouth. If this
were just another extraordinary rendition, I’d have already given this dude a
Cheney spa treatment and tossed him out the door.


I start over. “Melmud, try to stay focused. What is the Quorum doing with the
heat-seeking missiles?”


“Taking down a plane.”


Like, duh. At thirty-three thousand feet in the air, this guy better tell me
something I don’t already know, or one of us is going to jump ship. I don’t
want it to be me. “Where will it occur? On what day, and at what time?”


“What I know is—”


A sharp rap at the door stops him cold. That damn bodyguard!

 (c) 2012 Josie Brown. All rights reserved. This excerpt may not be resold or redistributed without prior written permission from Josie Brown or Signal Press Books (info@signaleditorial.com).


Killer-Tips-Cover-v3

On sale now! 

  Logo_kobo

Nook-button

Buy it on Amazon! 

’Tis the season for murder, mayhem and mistletoe! 

There will be no peace on Earth if Donna and Jack don’t find a shipping container filled with heat-seeking missiles.

Forget Santa! Terror is coming to town…