Today
I have, my friend and chaptermate, Kelly Janicello playing Author 1-2-3. Actually, more like Author 1-2-5
because I just had to ask about the NY Rangers!
LOL. Anyway, Kelly’s book Remember
Me? is on sale for $0.99 right now – only for a limited time. It’s an awesome story, so don’t miss out!
On
Writing
The
very first story you wrote down – good, bad, or ugly?
I’ve always written but never finished
stories. The very first story I completed that I actually let someone read was
I think my senior year in high school. The story was total fan fiction similar
to the 80’s movie The Goonies. I got an A on it and my teacher scribbled a note
saying she can’t wait to see me published one day. My mother contacted my
former teacher and shared the great news. I dust it off once in a while and
might edit it one day after I deal with the other people screaming for
attention in my head.
The Writer
Are you a procrastinator? What do
you do to stay on track?
I
am the Queen of Procrastination and tend to work better under pressure. Nothing
like waiting until the last minute to get the blood pumping and start
complaining about procrastinating. The only thing that keeps me on track is
where what needs to be done falls on the priority list.
Bonus
Question: On a scale of 1 to Crazy, how
big of a Ranger’s fan are you? And, ever
consider writing a sports romance? (I know, two questions – but they go together
like PB&J.)
11 on the Crazy NY Rangers fan
scale. I am the creator of the Headless Ranger.
The
Book
What
did you find hardest about writing this story?
I didn’t necessarily have hard time
writing this story however, once I finally got it back to my publisher I
started to question if it was a good time for it to be released. It takes place
in New York City and since it is Romantic Suspense the hero is an NYPD
Detective. Even though clearly I am writing fiction, I was concerned on how
some readers may react to some of the content given certain events during the
last few months not just in NYC but other cities across the country.
Another Bonus Question: One
of your reviews states the twists and turns kept the reader “guessing and anticipating from page 1 to
the OMG surprise at the end.” How
did keep track of all those twists and turns?
I
honestly can’t say how I keep track of my twists and turns lol. They kind of
just happen and I say Oh OK and go with it or I just have a twisted mind. I
wish I could say I have a process. I don’t. I am a 95% pantser. Generally I throw
things on paper and see what sticks. I remember I was about 75% through the
book when I e-mailed, I might have even called fellow author / friend Kat
Attalla and told her (spoiler alert) “so as it turns out Ryli has a baby
sister.” A baby sister wasn’t on the radar but she came to me in the midst of researching
guardianships. Once she was there she was there. When nearing the end of a
book, Post It notes will liter my laptop screen because point A must get to
point B then C etc. No loose ends.
Blurb:
As a child, Ryli Madigan witnessed a heinous murder burying
it deep in her mind. Years later as a rookie police officer she takes down an
armed suspect in a convenience store and finds herself assigned to the
Detective's Division. She must work with the veteran detective shot during the
robbery she thwarted. Ryli clashes with Brody McKenna, who pursues her on a
more personal level despite his deep-seated mistrust of women.
While tracking a serial killer Ryli is plagued
by haunting nightmares. The stakes grow higher as she and Brody uncover a cold
case involving her family concealed by one of their own. Brody suspects her
terrifying dreams are really flashbacks. Their personal attraction raises the
stakes in their pursuit of the man responsible for a murderous spree. Will Ryli
remember her past before it's too late?
Excerpt:
Brody rolled the driver's side window down
and lifted the night vision binoculars to his eyes. There she was. Without
tearing his eyes away, he felt around the passenger seat for his radio turning
the volume up for a listen. They didn't need him for this operation. He could
see the van, and two unmarked units parked in close vicinity to his rookie. He should
have known she was the chosen one. Only four had filtered in. Two men, and
another woman, who looked more like a man than the other two baby faced ones.
Yeah, if they'd used that woman, she'd
actually look like a man dressing like a woman. Now his rookie…stop thinking of her as your rookie. He
didn’t like where his mind wandered off to. Those stilettos were something else
though. Added five inches to her short legs, on view for anyone to ogle, in
what he wouldn’t call a skirt on a good day. If she could run in that disguise
he'd promote her in a second.
An hour later he finally pulled the
binoculars from his face, rubbing at his forehead to stall the headache
building between his eyes. After scrutinizing the last two takedowns, he
grudgingly had to reverse his skepticisms. His only misgiving at present? His
inability to stop himself from watching her the entire time from the cover of
his vehicle, and super zooming the binoculars like a damn Peeping Tom. Off
limits Brody. Off limits. Time to make his presence known. Time to stop looking
at her legs, ass, ti…..He climbed out of the truck, popped his ear bud in and
clipped his radio to his back pocket.
"Okay Ryli, we are going to wrap this up
for the evening. Five johns in the pokey are better than none. Good job."
Tim Cleary's voice rang through his ear so
loud Brody almost ripped the bud out of the canal. He adjusted the volume and
kept walking in the direction of the operation. He had to give it to her, his
rookie did well. Their last encounter had concerned him. Her flying through the
air like an acrobat without a net was the only memory not distorted by shock
and blood loss.
"Ya know Pimp Daddy, five is such an
unlucky number. Let's go for number six. He looks ready to party."
Her little retort squelched painfully in his
ear. Nails on a chalkboard, a needle tearing across a vinyl record. Brody
stopped in his tracks. From where he stood, he could see her on the sidewalk
without the benefit of lenses. He didn't see number six looking to party.
"Ryli, this is your first rodeo. Last
time I checked, I was running this op. L.T. will bust my ass if something
happens to you. Do not do that again. Next time I say wrap it up, you wrap it
up. Copy?"
"Understood, Pimp Daddy but this one
looks way too easy."
He looked again, even glanced over his
shoulder. He saw no one. She was talking about him. God damn overeager rookies.
She just disregarded a direct order to terminate the sting, proving his point.
His fervent complaints of using an inexperienced, unpredictable rookie had
simply bounced off the walls of Bardzell's office. Brody wished Bardzell was
sitting with him right now to see the precise reason he'd argued with his
superior to begin with. He kept walking and pulled his ball cap lower. Way too
easy? He'd give her way too easy.
* * *
Ryli's
mouth was always two steps ahead of her brain. Instead of saying an Amen to end
the evening, she’d turned into an arrest greedy glutton. In for a penny…Her
aching feet sent sharp signals up her legs, threatening punishment later. How
could anyone prance around in hooker heels all night long? She had to give
these girls some credit, the narrow boots began pinching a half an hour after
hitting the pavement. Her poor toes were screaming in agony, each step more
unbearable than the last. She should have unzipped the black faux leather and
hauled it to the van barefoot when Tim said cut. With her luck, she'd probably
require a tetanus shot or a more potent vaccine if she ditched the boots.
A
pathetic limp replaced the sashaying, enticing, glide she’d mastered and
flaunted hours before. Her new "gentleman" still approached though,
crossing the isolated street. She bent over and yanked the stockings up––again.
Leaning against the side of the brick building, she adjusted her red wig and
eyed the stranger closing in on her location. As he drew nearer, for a fleeting
moment she had a sense of déjà vu. Why did he look so familiar? She pasted a
smile on her face and snapped the gum in her mouth. "Looking for someone,
Sugar?"
Holy
crap, he had to tower over her by at least a foot. In comparison to the
previous weasel-like, scrawny, specimens of men––now guests in the city
lock-up, he was Paul Bunyan minus the blue ox. The combination of the ball cap
pulled low over his brow and the dark scruff covering his jaw, gave him an
ominous appearance. Why didn't she make for the pimp mobile like a good little
subordinate? Bad Ryli, bad.
"As
a matter of fact I am. Are you working tonight?"
Yeah,
in more ways than one.
"Well
the boss man wanted me to escort him to a private party, but he won't mind
waiting a bit if the price is right." Oh my God she so had to stop watching
the Game Show channel.
"Is
this where we negotiate the price of what's behind door number one?" He
folded his arms across his wide chest. The action pulled his black t-shirt
taut, outlining his pecs beneath the cotton fabric. Why in God's name did this
guy need to pay to get some? He was a fine representation of the species. He
could probably crack walnuts with those guns. Her brain niggled at her again.
Where did she know him from? Had she arrested him? The streetlight flickered
off, encasing them in total darkness before slowly humming back on. An eerie
foreshadow of what could potentially happen? She'd have her hands full fending this
guy off if this went south on her.
"Well
I've always been partial to door number three. Better prizes," she teased
with another snap of her gum.
White
teeth gleamed out from the dark beard. "So door number three…is that the
entire package then?"
Okaaaay,
he flirts with hookers. Her minute experience with this gig did not draw men
who manifested from a studs and spurs calendar, nor did they try to flirt with
her. They twitched nervously, their eyes darted all around, and they pretty
much asked outright the cost for the particular act. Usually the lewdest act
they could come up with, including a few she had never heard of up until a week
ago, ones she questioned the legality in a few states.
"Door
number three is in fact the whole package, handsome. Would you like to bid on
door number three?"
"I
think with you." He rubbed his scruff as if considering her faux assets.
His voice dropped several octaves lower taking on a sexy drawl. "Door
number three would be worth at least three hundred."
She
winked up at him. "That will be our little secret from the boss man."
He
grinned again flashing those pearly whites. "I won't tell if you don't
tell. Twenties acceptable?" His hand dug into the right front pocket of
his faded denims extracting a wad of cash.
"Jackson's
are good," she replied as he handed her the bills. "You always carry
that much cash on your person?"
He
didn't release his hold on the bills. Ryli looked up in confusion to find his
dark eyes narrowing on her as the air thickened with tension. "On my person?
You a cop, Red?"
Oh
shit. "I —"
"Ryli,
you're made. Go!" Pimp Daddy's voice sounded alarmed. She turned to bolt,
not needing to be told twice.
Rough
hands yanked her arms behind her back and she heard the distinct snick of cuffs
manacling her wrists. Stiffening in shock, her earlier déjà vu came to fruition
and she knew without a doubt Brody McKenna just shackled her. "Ummmm, Pimp
Daddy, I think we have a problem —"
Buy Links:
Amazon
Author Bio:
Kelly Janicello is the
alter ego of a staid corporate worker. After years of writing for her own
pleasure, she finally joined the ranks of other men and women privileged to
call themselves authors. Kelly and her dog live in the Lower Hudson Valley of
New York. When Kelly is not writing she is spending her time with family and
friends, cheering for her beloved NY Rangers, and inventing the perfect man in
her head. Kelly loves to hear from readers.
Author Links:
Website: www.kellyjanicello.com
Twitter: @kellyjan2
FB: Kelly
Janicello
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