Ruth A. Casie's Answers to a Few Asked Questions and Her Featured Story

 

The Lady and Her Quill by Ruth A. Casie

Her mind kept telling her to stop loving him, but her heart couldn’t let him go.

Renowned author Lady Alicia Hartley has lost her muse after a bad review. She blames it all on the author JC Melrose. A chance encounter with a handsome, witty Justin Caulfield has her heart racing, and her muse seemingly back. Is he her savior or her worst nightmare?

He didn’t see the turbulent ocean. He was too busy dealing with a different tempest.

The recently retired Captain Justin Caulfield is facing his own demons. As gifted author JC Melrose, his stories honor men who died at the hand of one man. His only focus is to avenge their deaths, that is, until he meets and falls in love with Lady Alicia.

The two authors take on a writing challenge based on a story of stolen gold taken from the newspaper headlines all to determine the better writer. While researching the story, Lady Alicia is captured by the thieves’ ringleader. Can Lady Alicia turn this mystery into an award-winning story? Can Justin save his real-life heroine? Can they both overcome their own challenges for a happily ever after?

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Frequently Asked Questions

What do people get wrong about romance?

At a recent gathering (socially distanced) I heard those words from men who I believed were progressive, educated, understanding. They thought they were being cheeky. They thought they were being brash. They thought they were being funny. When in fact, they weren’t thinking at all. And rather than correct them, teach them, embarrass them, I said nothing. I smiled and ate a tasteless sandwich.

And the position isn’t unique to men. While I didn’t attend a meeting of a woman’s organization I belong to a member who was there mentioned with regret that she suggested my book for the book club but was told no one reads those types of books.

In a repressed environment, prior to the 18^th century where women had no rights, women wrote stories from their heart dreams of independence, control, and freedom. To quote Maya Rodale, “We are writing stories about women who triumph in a world that doesn’t want women to triumph.” It breaks away from the accepted norm of the era which is threatening to those in control and can be linked to the rise in the call for women’s rights.

Romance stories take you on a journey as a woman in any era, in any genre finds her fulfilment and a deserving happily ever after.

What attracted you to your current partner?

I was a single mom with two young daughters. I had no idea how to socialize other than with other moms, usually in play groups. I joined a singles group that played softball. I’m not an athlete, so I volunteered to handle the BBQ. As the season changed, a small group in my age range broke off. They asked if I would host parties at their houses. At the time, our local paper had a singles page. I advertised the parties and if you wanted to come, you had to call for reservations. A gentleman called to make a reservation for the Super Bowl Party. He came to the party and called me the following day. He thanked me for the dinner and asked that I put him on the list for the next party. Then he invited me to the Philharmonic. During a light supper, I took out index cards of women his age and went through them to see who he was interested in. He humored me. We spoke during the week and went out the following Saturday. I took out another bunch of index cards. He showed no interest in any of them. I was quickly running out of people to introduce him to. At our third meeting, I took out the cards, looked at him, then put them away. He took my hand across the table. “I’ve been waiting three weeks for you to realize it is you I want to be with.” It is 37 years later. He is called Daddy by my girls and our son, and Pop Pop by our grandchildren. He is my hero in so many ways.

What is the best or worst thing that has ever happened to you as a writer?

This is a hard question. There are so many wonderful things. Fangirl moments with Diana Gabaldon, Eloisa James, Nora Roberts. Included in anthologies with some of the best romance authors. The first time a person recognized me and showed me my book on her Kindle. A call that my story made the USA Today bestselling list.

As for the worst, please read my response to ‘what inspired you to write this book.’

What would you like people to know about you?

Nothing is more important to me. Give me opportunity and I will tell you all about them My oldest daughter, a pre-school teacher has rallied during the pandemic to teach 15 three-year-olds remotely. Her younger sister has just started a cottage cookie business. Her creations are AWESOME. Her brother is a cyber security engineer (I would proudly tell you what he does but even his mother doesn’t know – his work is top security). We have hour grandchildren and cannot wait to see them all for the holiday.

I am passionate about my family, and I bring that passion into my writing.

If you had to do it all over again, would you still choose to write books?

Yes, but I wouldn’t have waited so long. I loved my job at the bank and spent over 25 years there. However, the creativity and camaraderie I have found in the writing community has been wonderful, and I find out more about myself with each book I write.

What inspired your featured book?

A combination of things inspired The Lady and Her Quill. I was so excited when my first book was published. Ok. I will admit that I get excited when each book is published. It really never gets old. But with my first book I was so eager and hungry to be part of this new world. My author friends were enthusiastic, encouraging, excited for me. I signed books for them and was asked to speak at meetings, in front of readers. It was exciting and wonderful.

I remember my first 5-star review and the ones that followed. I diligently read all the reviews to see what worked and what didn’t. Then there was this 1-star review. I remember staring at the rating before reading what the reviewer had written. When I got the courage (yes, it took courage) to read it I was shocked. There was little about the story in the review but a whole lot about me. It was a personal attack.

I remember the hurt, the fear, the I’ll-never-write-again feeling. My editor and friends set me on the right course. But that review lingered in the back of my mind. So… my heroine, Lady Alicia Hartley is one of those scribbling women of the Regency who gets a review that attacks her self-confidence and set her in a tailspin… Sound familiar?

Postscript: Today, I would thank that reviewer. She made me stronger, more resilient, and much more determined.

Tell me more about the Ladies of Sommer-by-the-Sea.

The Lady and Her Quill is Book 1 of the Regency series The Ladies of Sommer-by-the-Sea

Welcome to Sommer-by-the-Sea, a vibrant village nestled on the rugged northeast coast of England, 15 miles north of Newcastle upon Tyne. Here, the world is centered on the country village and the lives of the landowning and professional families. Sommer-by-the-Sea is populated with aristocrats, gentry, self-made men, shop owners, local workers, and servants, a cross-section of the people of the time. Steeped in history dating back as far as the Vikings, the villagers are proud and celebrate their heritage.

Everyone from the elite summer residents to the year-round residence keep businesses flourishing and gossip thriving. As with any small town, there are challenges and successes, secrets, disagreements, and feuds. There is no shortage of romance, mystery, drama, and even a murder or two.

Graduates of the Sommer-by-the-Sea Female Seminary have a unique education. Along with the usual studies available, the head mistress has nurtured each woman’s innate ability and helped them develop into the women they are today. This shared unique experience has kept the graduates close.

Each lady has her own story to tell as she is called to action and must demonstrate she is smart, strong and sensible and must challenge the accepted definition of a “woman’s place.” For these women, arranged or political marriages will not do. If she chooses a husband, it will be for love, on her own terms, and with a man who will accept her as a partner. 

It is with pleasure I introduce you to The Ladies of Sommer-by-the-Sea, and their stories.

Book 1 – The Lady and Her Quill

Book 2 – The Lady and the Spy

Book 3 – The Lady and Her Duke

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About Ruth ~

Ruth A Casie is a USA Today bestselling author. She writes historical adventures from the shores of medieval Scotland to the cobblestone streets of Regency London. Within the pages you’ll discover ‘edge-of-your-seat’ suspense, mind boggling drama, and heart melting emotions embracing strong women and the men who deserve them. Grab your favorite cup of tea, or an ale if you prefer, and join her heroes and heroines as they race across the pages to find their happily ever after.  Ruth hopes her stories are your next favorite adventures!

Where You Can Find Ruth:

Website:  https://ruthacasie.com/

Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/ruthacasie/

Facebook private reader’s page, Casie Café: https://www.facebook.com/groups/963711677128537/

Facebook Author Page:  https://www.facebook.com/RuthACasie/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/RuthACasie

Amazon Author Page:  https://amazon.com/author/ruthacasie

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4792909.Ruth_A_Casie

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ruth-a-casie

Newsletter Signup:  http://bit.ly/RuthsNewsletterSignUp

Flying High

I'm a timid driver. I’m a nervous flier, even on a commercial jet.  (This scenes with Raven's adventures in Mundane air travel in Raven's Wing are based on my own personal aversion.) You couldn't pay me enough to get on a small private aircraft.

With this background, you might be surprised that one of my childhood heroes was Amelia Earhart.

Part of the appeal, of course, was the mystique of her last flight and how she disappeared without a trace.  I was one of those kids who was all about myths, legends, and mysteries. Stonehenge. Nessie. UFOs. The Bermuda Triangle.

But Amelia (in my child-mind, we were always on a first-name basis), Amelia was far more to me than another mystery. She was a woman who did, a woman who dared. She ignored all those who said a woman's place was in the home, who said that women were inherently less capable, that real ladies don’t go adventuring. She set records. Congress awarded her a medal for her aerial courage and pioneering spirit.

I grew up in a very traditional Catholic family that believed in separate roles for men and women. I went to a Catholic school that tried to instill in me the feminine virtues of mild manners and modesty.

Amelia and women like her showed me another way to be. I galloped racehorses in high school. I handled birds of prey in college. I've shot a pistol and a longbow, and I've thrown javelin from the back of a moving horse. The unfortunately early onset if arthritis may have slowed me down a bit, but, damn, I had fun while I could.

And a tiny bit of Amelia's spirit lives on in my characters. Catherine Fairchild from my Werewolves and Gaslight series never listens to the people who would tell her what a lady can and can't do, either.

www.shawna-reppert.com

www.Shawna-Reppert.com

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 [SR1]

A Slight Change in Genre--Writing a Cozy Mystery

I promised myself some years ago that one day I’d write a cozy mystery. That day came earlier this year when I began the first book in a new series. I knew right from the start it would be a paranormal cozy, so one of the first choices I had to make was what kind of paranormal? Should I use ghosts? Vampires? Werewolves? Witches? I love the idea of using magic and creating spells, so it was a no-brainer to make my amateur sleuth a witch. I added an extended family of witches—some good, some not—gave her a potential boyfriend and a best friend with a mysterious past. Then I had to create a place for her to live.

Small towns and cozy mysteries go together like Holmes and Watson. It was so much fun creating a community that is warm and welcoming, where everyone cares about their neighbors. It’s just the kind of place I’d like to live. Well, except for the murders. But then, it wouldn’t be a cozy mystery without a couple of bodies, would it?

The terrain around the town was particularly important for this story. I wanted the murders to occur in isolated places so I created a hilly district of woods and walking trails, which attracts tourists and provides some extra suspects who weren’t townspeople.

Creating the townspeople was the next step. The cast of characters included elderly retired people, owners of local businesses—baker, chef, innkeeper—the mayor and, of course, the sheriff. Not that he solves the murder mystery, that’s the job of the amateur sleuth.

Looks like I have everything in place for my new book...except for a title. I’m considering several possibilities, but I've yet to make a decision. Not to worry, everything will be fine...just so long as I come up with something before the release date in fall 2017.

***

Janni Nell writes paranormal mysteries. Her latest book Dead Lady Vanishing is available now.

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7th Anniversary

In June, it’ll be seven years since my first book was published. I had almost given up on getting published (self-publishing was in its infancy back then) when I heard about a new imprint opening at Harlequin. Carina Press were reading anything and everything. They needed to fill a number of slots before their launch. I figured: What have I got to lose? After submitting, I eagerly checked the executive editor’s posts about how many manuscripts were being rejected and accepted…until one post where a huge number of rejections were being sent along with two acceptances. Was it possible? Could my book be one of the acceptances? The odds weren’t great, and as the days went on, that little seed of hope in my heart withered.

When I finally got the email from the executive editor, I braced myself for rejection. I had to read the email a dozen times before it finally sank in that, yes, they were offering to publish my debut novel. Then a weird kind of numbness set in. I'd been working toward this for a long time and now I was so shocked I couldn't even celebrate. When I awoke the next morning, I forgot I’d even been accepted. Then suddenly the memory rushed in, and my black-and-white world was transformed into glorious technicolor. I'll cherish that feeling as long as I live.

That first book was a huge learning experience. I was all kinds of nervous working with an editor, but Liz was, and continues to be, awesome. The biggest challenge for me was starting from scratch with social media. Things like setting up Facebook and Twitter, and organizing a website made my brain hurt. I made lots of mistakes. Was it worth it? Hell, yeah! Writing is one of the great joys of my life.

And here’s the book that started it all…

Allegra Fairweather here. Paranormal investigator. Got problems with specters? Shapeshifters? I'm the woman to call. Just don't call me a Ghostbuster. The last guy who did that ended up flat on his back with my boot at his throat.

With my 99.5% success rate, solving the mystery of a bleeding rose that has sprung up on the shores of Loch Furness should have been an easy gig. But already I've heard the shriek of the local banshee, discovered two bodies (and then lost two bodies), and had a near-death encounter with a three-hundred-year-old ghost. And perhaps most dangerous of all, the hot pub owner who hired me now wants to show me exactly what's under his kilt.

Luckily, I'm ably assisted by my very own guardian angel. I'm grateful for his help—but he's also drop-dead gorgeous. A bit distracting when I've got a mystery to solve, and the clock is ticking...

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Janni Nell writes fun paranormal mysteries. She is currently working on the first book in a new series.

The Meaning of Flowers

When I realized my latest release was going to feature British ghosts from the time of Queen Victoria, I knew I wanted to use flowers and their special meanings as part of the clues for solving the mystery. Those Victorians could say a whole lot with a simple bouquet of flowers, but there was a catch. Some flowers had more than one meaning, which is tricky in real life, but awesome for writing a mystery.

During my research I found out some interesting things about the flowers that were included in the bouquet of Catherine Middleton when she married Prince William. Lily of the Valley means trustworthiness or happiness, both of which are desirable in a marriage. Hyacinth has different meanings depending on color. White hyacinth was chosen for the wedding bouquet. It means constancy of love. Myrtle—meaning love and marriage—has been included in the bouquets of royal brides since Queen Victoria married Albert. The myrtle in Catherine's bouquet even came from the same plant that was in Queen Victoria's garden all those years ago. Ivy means fidelity, friendship and affection. Things every bride would wish for. Sweet William was a cute nod to the groom, but it also means gallantry.

While researching the meaning of flowers I began to look at my own garden in a whole new way. 






I discovered that, in Victorian times, dahlias meant a lasting bond and commitment between two people.

Petunias are such pretty flowers it’s hard to believe they indicate anger and resentment. Thankfully there’s an alternative meaning of wanting to seek comfort with another person.

Camellias have different meanings depending on color. Red means you're a flame in my heart, and white indicates adoration, perfection, loveliness. Pink means longing. 

Finding out the meaning of flowers can be fun. What does your garden mean?

***

Janni Nell writes fun paranormal mysteries. Her latest release Dead Lady Vanishing is available now from:

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New Release: Dead Lady Vanishing

Dead Lady Vanishing is the second book in the Bolde and Baulsey mystery series. This time Natasha (Tash) Bolde and her ghostly crime-fighting partner, Clover Baulsey, are investigating some old and very nasty ghosts, who are causing trouble at creepy Wildfinch Hall. Here’s a sneak peak:

***

My flashlight illuminated the name Wildfinch Hall. Really? Somebody had been reading too many Brontë novels. And we weren’t even in Yorkshire. I wondered whether Heathcliff was at home.

“Stop messing around,” yelled Clover. She was already on the other side of the gates. Unlike me, she could walk right through them. “Come on.”

“The gates are locked,” I said, directing my beam onto the padlock and chain.

“Then climb over.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d trespassed at Clover’s insistence and I guessed it wouldn’t be the last. Sticking the flashlight in my pocket, I surveyed the curls and scrolls of wrought iron, which appeared to provide plenty of hand- and footholds. It wasn’t until I grabbed hold that I realized the metal was dangerously slick with rain. I slipped and banged my knee. Sucking in a breath, I tried again, more carefully this time. As I made my way up, the gates wobbled. The wind whipped around, threatening to toss me on my ass, but I clung on. When I reached the top, I swung one leg over and then the other. For a second I balanced on top then I jumped down, landing with a crunch on the gravel driveway.

Jagged lightning split the sky. For a moment it was bright as day. A large building—we’re talking Pemberley or Downton Abbey—stood on the crest of the hill at the end of the driveway. The scream must’ve come from there.

As I started toward it, Clover called, “No, this way,” and set off across a wide lawn dotted with swaying trees.

Forgetting about the pelting rain, my wet shoes, and the chill that turned my breath misty white, I went after her, flicking on my flashlight again as I ran.

“Is the woman still screaming?” I panted.

“No.” She sounded worried.

“Maybe you’ve gone the wrong way. The scream must’ve come from the place on the hill.”

“It didn’t.” She continued to move away from the house.

“You do realize I’m soaking wet,” I grumbled. Honestly I wished I’d stayed in the cramped car. At least that had been warm and dry. But Clover wasn’t sympathetic. Probably because, no matter how hard it rained, she was bone-dry. One of the advantages of being a ghost.

                I stepped in a puddle halfway up my shin and swore loudly. Mud squelched as I pulled myself free. Clover had gone on ahead. I trudged after her.

Suddenly she yelled and pointed, “Over there. Near the wood. It’s some sort of building.” She moved fast, gliding over the grass. I hurried after her.

The building had been constructed in the style of a mini Roman temple with stone walls on three sides. On the fourth side a short flight of steps led to a porch with a roof supported by columns. By the time I reached the steps, Clover was moving across the porch toward a wooden door. She could easily have passed right through it, but she suddenly stopped and took a step back. Had she met some kind of resistance? I moved closer so I could hear what she was saying.

“What the—?” She squared her shoulders. Then, raising her voice above the storm as though she was speaking to someone, she said, “Who are you? Why did you scream?”

As she listened to the answer, she tapped her foot like she did when she was pissed. “I’ll mind my own business when hell freezes over! Who the hell do you think you are anyway?”

Frustrated that I could only witness one side of their exchange, I yelled, “Clover, what’s going on?”

But all her attention was on the other ghost. She looked it over from head to toe. “You’ve been here a while, haven’t you? When did you die? Nineteenth century?...No, I won’t go away. I heard a scream. Was it you?” Her hands rested on her plump hips, feet apart, in the determined stance I knew so well. She clenched her fists and demanded, “Get out of my way.” A second later, she doubled over. Had she’d been gut-punched?

“Clover!” I rushed up the steps.

“Stay back,” she warned, but I kept going. Her assailant was a ghost. It couldn’t hurt me. Not physically anyway.

I'd almost reached her when her head snapped back. Had she been punched in the jaw? She lashed out, one-two, with her fists. Then suddenly her hands were pinned behind her and she was being pushed toward the door.

“Let her go!” I launched myself at whoever was holding her and swung a punch. I’d never fought a ghost before. I was shocked when my fist sank into something thick, viscous, and bitterly cold. I yelped as the icy sensation crept up my arms and entered my chest. It was hard to breathe. For one terrifying moment, I heard the faraway sound of a woman screaming in torment.

Clover struggled to escape whoever had pinned her arms behind her. She yelled, “You have no right to—” Her voice was abruptly cut off as though someone had her around the throat. I wanted to help, but the icy cold that had settled in my chest moved up through my neck and into my skull. I’d had brain freeze before but this was much worse. I fell to my knees, cradling my head in my hands, moaning. What was happening to me? I couldn’t think straight, could hardly move. I huddled in a pathetic mound, willing the pain to go away.

“Tash!”

Clover was in trouble…I had to help her…somehow. With a huge effort I managed to raise my head. I saw her throw a punch then suddenly she was down on her knees, her back arched, head bent way back. Her bright blue eyes locked on mine. I heard her panted breaths, saw her struggling to defeat her opponent, but she couldn’t do it alone.

“Tash! Help me!”

***

I’m Natasha Bolde and I see ghosts, well one ghost anyway: Clover Skye Baulsey, PI. In life, she was my best friend and mentor. In death, she’s been my rock, my conscience, my shelter. I’d follow her anywhere, but I really wish I hadn’t followed her to Britain’s Wildfinch Hall, because that’s where she disappeared.

The last thing she did was call for my help. Since I don’t know much about the spirit world I called Joe Nettleford, who moonlights as a ghost hunter. He’s good as what he does, but it’s kind of awkward since I refused to date him. So now I’m not sure what’s going to be more difficult: working with Joe or untangling the secrets of Wildfinch Hall and its ghosts. Still I’d better find a way to succeed at both. If I don’t, I’ll never see Clover again.

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Not Quite a New Release

It's been a long time between drinks, as they say, or in this case books. The first book in the Bolde and Baulsey paranormal mystery series, Dead Monk Walking, was released last year. Since then my family's had a few ups and downs. The ups included my son's business expanding rapidly. Yay! The downs were mostly about the dog's ongoing cruciate ligament problems. Hopefully, he's had the last operation. He's such a sweetie. He doesn't deserve all the crap he's been through.

Anyway, I finally completed the second Bolde and Baulsey book. Better late than never, right? It's called Dead Lady Vanishing and it'll be released in February 2017.

To celebrate the upcoming release, the first book in the series Dead Monk Walking is on special for 99c for a short time only. 

***

Vacations are a bitch. Or maybe it’s just me.

I’m Natasha Bolde, and honestly I’m no one special. Okay, I’ve solved a few mysteries, but I’ve always worked with my best friend and mentor, Clover. She passed recently, and now I’m taking what should’ve been her trip of a lifetime to Cornwall, Britain. It’s just like Clover to choose a place chock-full of mysteries. Why is the amnesiac woman digging in the fields? Can the local psychic medium really contact the dead? And who exactly is the ghost hunter hunting?

I wish Clover was here to help me solve these mysteries, but since she’s not, the best way to honor her memory is to solve them on my own. I’m determined to find the answers. Even if it kills me.

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Giving Thanks for Random Stuff

Out of all the American holidays, Thanksgiving is the one I think should be celebrated worldwide. Okay, the awesome food is one reason.  But there’s more. I’ve been doing some historical research lately and it’s made me aware of many things we take for granted in the modern world. So today I'm giving thanks for:

Flushing toilets—I’ve had firsthand experience of using what was little more than a tin drum with a toilet seat plonked on top. It came complete with ripped up sheets of newspaper instead of toilet rolls. The ‘tin drum’ was emptied every couple of days so you can imagine the stink right before ‘empty day’. Ugh!

Reliable birth control—I love my kids, but I’m so glad I got to choose when and how many.

Computers – how the heck did I write books without one? And, as for this post, it simply wouldn’t exist without the magic of computers.

Household Appliances—Back in the day, women could spend an entire day doing the household washing. So I’m giving thanks for washing machines and dishwashers and vacuum cleaners and all those other devices that make housework easier. And give me more time to write.

The Right to Vote—It wasn’t only women who had to fight for the right to vote. Poor men and ethnic minorities had to fight too. (In some countries they're still fighting for that right.) But we can vote. Okay some of the candidates suck, but if you don’t like the major parties, you can always vote for one of the minor ones.

E-books—I read a lot and storage of print books was becoming a problem. Now I have thousands of books in the cloud. I’m giving big, big thanks for my E-reader and all the amazing books and authors, who wouldn’t be published without the electronic world.

Baths—Okay, people did actually bathe back in the day, but it involved boiling enough water to fill a tub and, unless you were wealthy, sharing the water with other family members. No wonder they didn’t bathe every day. So I’m giving thanks for hot running water, lots of scented bubbles and not having to share.

Phones—Whether you call them cell phones or mobile phones, it’s impossible to write a post like this without mentioning those convenient little pieces of plastic. It’s total bliss to be able to take calls and texts wherever you are and whenever you want. Okay, not in the movies...and maybe not in upmarket restaurants…and definitely not during sex… but most of the time. Phones are getting so smart that it won’t be long before they’re giving back massages. And then I’ll really be thankful.

Medical and dental advances—These are too numerous to list, but I’m truly grateful for all the many scientists and surgeons and all other medical professionals, who make our modern lives healthier and better.

So, that's my list. What are you thankful for in the modern world?

***

Janni Nell writes the Bolde & Baulsey paranormal mysteries. Book 1 Dead Monk Walking is available now. Book 2, Dead Lady Vanishing, is coming in 2017.

Dead Monk Walking

Vacations are a bitch. Or maybe it’s just me.

I’m Natasha Bolde, and honestly I’m no one special. Okay, I’ve solved a few mysteries, but I’ve always worked with my best friend and mentor, Clover. She passed recently, and now I’m taking

what should’ve been her trip of a lifetime to Cornwall, Britain. It’s just like Clover to choose a place chock-full of mysteries. Why is the amnesiac woman digging in the fields? Is the psychic medium genuine or a clever fake? And who exactly is the hot ghost-hunter hunting?

I’d like to walk away and let someone else solve these mysteries, but that would be letting Clover down. To honor her memory, I have to find out what’s going on and make sure everyone gets the justice they deserve. Even if it kills me.

Now available 

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