Monday, September 30, 2013

#MIHBlog - Book Review by Kay Dee Royal - Her Last Day

Hello Muse It Hot fans/readers/authors;) One of our goals here on the Muse It Hot Blog is to share the excellent stories of our authors. I had the pleasure of reading a book written by two of them - good friends, sister Musers, and a Mother/Daughter duo - if you enjoy what you read, please share this post...and most definitely buy the book:)  


Click Cover for Buy Link

Book Review – Her Last Day by Kat Holmes & L.J. Holmes

Genre: Historical romance with a touch of paranormal & spice

First Line: Daria woke.

Book Review:

Daria, a natural beauty and humble woman from a family of means, gets bartered off as a wife to the highest bidder.

Titus, a business man, philanderer, and control freak, lives every minute with high expectations and a low tolerance for humanity in general.

Together they act as abuser and the abused. It’s August 24th 79 A.D. in Pompeii, is there any chance in hell for Daria to find a few hours of happiness before her world turns to ash?

To be honest, the title told me the heroine dies and why would I want to read a story with a sad ending – I don’t do sad. I came very close to passing over it for another of L.J.’s stories, but I’m so glad I reconsidered.

Kat and L.J. Holmes created a historical romance, introducing an impacting depth to the story through its characters and passion. They summed it up with a satisfying ending that this happily-ever-after-freak (moi) found amazing.

There’s a paranormal twist that isn’t really mentioned in the tags or description of the books. These two authors pulled a rabbit out of the hat and you’ll see why when you read it ;)

No spoiling it…the resonating depth of this love story kept me thinking about its story-stars long after I’d finished reading their story. I hope these two authors continue writing more stories together – and I definitely recommend this story as an excellent historical paranormal romance.

Kay Dee

Find more books by authors L.J.Holmes and Kat Holmes at:

Kat Holmes: 

L.J. Holmes:

Her Last Day Excerpt: 
August 24th 79 A.D. 
7:30 A.M.

Daria woke. Her body twanged. Every morning she prayed not to see the sun, but every morning she woke and the sun’s rays mocked her.

Sliding from her bed, liberally festooned in silks and the finest lines money could buy, she bit down on the wince from bruises not yet coloring her pale skin.

She knew Titus expected her to wait for her personal slave to dress her for another day in her own private hell, but Daria wanted no one to see the remnants of the night she’d just endured at her husband’s mercy. Not even her personal attendant, the slave Iola.

Iola arrived in time to help her into her breakfast shawl.

“I won’t need your help until after I break my fast,” Daria said.

The older woman did not respond. She met Daria’s eyes, nodded, and then bowed her way back out of the bedchamber. Iola always knew what her mistress hid beneath her breakfast wear, she’d seen it many times, but there was nothing Daria could do to change what was.

Slipping her tiny feet into her silk slippers, she checked the reflecting glass. Titus would find no cause to chastise, unless she didn’t get to the dining area and was demurely waiting for his arrival. Like the slaves, she had expectations to meet.

Taking one more steadying breath, she schooled her features to show no emotions, and headed for breakfast with a man she detested the most in the entire world.

Kat Holmes:

I’m a dreamer and a lover of words. Books have been my passion since I listened to my mother reading to me as a child. The love she instilled in me has culminated in my desire to write the kind of stories I have always loved to read. I believe books are the single most important invention mankind has ever created. I started writing when I was only fifteen for my own enjoyment. I still write for my own pleasure, but now I get to share that love with my readers.

L.J. Holmes:

I’ve got snow on my roof with roots in my brain, knees that creak, and joints that often protest, but I’m having the time of my life writing to my heart’s content.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

#MIHBlog - What past secret are YOU hiding? Guest Post by S.S. Hampton Sr.


          Many, many years ago there was a hit song by the Temptations that contained the line, “Smiling faces, smiling faces sometimes / They don’t tell the truth…”

          Truer words were never spoken.

          Hand in hand with the truth above is the fact that of the many things that people get themselves into trouble over, money and/or sex is at the top of the list. All you have to do is scan the news media and every day there is someone in trouble over…money and/or sex. These two temptations are not the reserve of the rich and famous, or politicians—even ordinary men or women are tripped up by the temptations of money and/or sex. It happens in Las Vegas (of all places) or Washington, D.C., or even in the heartland of Kansas.

          In Las Vegas, when I am away from the world-famous Strip and journeying through my daily routine of college classes, food shopping, traveling on the city bus, and walking from the bus stop to the college and back, with a stop for an occasional beer, I encounter people of all ages. Smiling people, scowling people, and poker-faced people. I always look at their eyes; sometimes I nod “hello,” other times I just glance at them.

          Other times, such as when I am having a beer, I simply watch people pass by.

          Sometimes, but not always, I wonder what secrets each person harbors. What has that smiling person been up to? Or the scowling person? And the poker-faced person…has that person been up to something? And couples—what have they been up to? Or maybe, what are all of these people planning to do, that will become future secrets?

          On the Strip of course, it is a good bet that almost everyone is harboring a secret, or about to do something that they will keep secret. After all, this is Las Vegas. And we all know that “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Ha! The thing about secrets involving money and/or sex is that, like military secrets, secrets involving money and/or sex do not stay secret forever.

          So, if I encountered you, I might nod “hello” or simply glance at you. Either way, I will look at your eyes. And I will think, “What secret is this person hiding?” Or, “What is this person planning to do that will become a secret?”

          So, ahem, what past secret are you hiding? Or maybe, what are you planning that will become a future secret?

          You know you can tell us…

About the Author:

SS Hampton, Sr. is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a divorced grandfather to 13 wonderful grandchildren, a published photographer and photojournalist, and a member of the Military Writers Society of America.

He retired on 1 July 2013 from the Army National Guard with the rank of Sergeant First Class; he previously served in the active duty Army (1974-1985), the Army Individual Ready Reserve (1985-1995) (mobilized for the Persian Gulf War), and enlisted in the Army National Guard in October 2004, after which he was mobilized for Federal active duty for almost three years. Hampton is a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle (2004-2006) and Iraqi Freedom (2006-2007).

His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories and in anthologies from Dark Opus Press, Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy, Melange Books, Musa Publishing, MuseItUp Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and as stand-alone stories in Horror Bound Magazine, The Harrow, and River Walk Journal, among others.

Second-career goals include becoming a painter and studying for a degree in photography and anthropology—hopefully to someday work in and photograph underwater archaeology. After 12 years of brown desert in the Southwest and overseas, he misses the Rocky Mountains, yellow aspens in the fall, running rivers, and a warm fireplace during snowy winters. As of December 2011 in Las Vegas, Nevada, Hampton officially became a homeless Iraq War veteran.


Sharing Rachel -  
MuseItUp Publishing, forthcoming Spring 2014.


Burt and Rachel Markham are ordinary small business owners of a seed & feed store in a small Kansas farming and ranching community. Many years before, as young university graduates eagerly anticipating exciting overseas employment, a lifetime in Kansas was the furthest thing from their minds, particularly Rachel who was raised overseas and dreamed of going back.

By July 2013 their twin 18-year old daughters, having graduated high school several months before, go east to attend a university. Burt and Rachel settle into their new life of an empty house and a predictable and unchanging routine that threatens to stretch far into the future.

One summer evening Burt has an idea—but will Rachel accept the idea? If she does, will the idea add new excitement to their marriage, or destroy it?


Life—the sum of many parts gathered into a raw and uninhibited whole and unashamedly and breathlessly lived to the fullest…

          One part trapped heat and humidity, a thick, heavy embrace that fills the air and envelopes the flesh like a thing alive.

          One part pungent scents swirling through the air and becoming a powerful, intoxicating aphrodisiac. Each provocative scent with its own story. The hot musky scent of feminine wetness and the stronger scent of masculine sex blended into its own particular smell. The individual smells of feminine sweat and perfume mingled with masculine sweat and cologne. And all of the resulting mixtures blended into a strong overpowering fragrance of consuming lust and pleasure.

          One part sound for sound gives unseen life and strength to the spoken and unspoken. A female voice that moans “Ohhhh shit!” or screams “OH MY GOD!” followed by lengthy, rising whimpers that end in pleasure-filled shrieks needs no explanation; nor does feminine unintelligible babbling answered by a deep chuckle when accompanied by the rapid, endless slapping of wet flesh against wet flesh. In between the voices are long periods of silence broken only by the whisper of classical music, the rustle of bed sheets, the creak of bedsprings, and the sound of joined, intimate sticky wetness. Finally, deep grunts followed by much satisfied long, drawn out sighs from the feminine and masculine says it all.

          One part sight for the visual binds the many parts together; blue-hued shadows and pale highlights playing across writhing shadowy forms, one smaller, curvaceous and feminine, the other bulkier and masculine, pantomimes an unspoken story. The feminine raised on elbows, head hung back, long hair brushing against damp bed sheets, a leg draped over the masculine with trembling pointed foot and toes curled tight. The masculine, resting on arms with hands placed on the bed, head lowered to a pale, blue-tinted breast, while hips move with a rhythmic passion between spread legs. The shadows joined together speak silently of lust, pleasure, domination, and submission.

          All of the sums gathered together and witnessed, for without a witness there is no remembrance of a moment lived to the fullest. Against the far wall of a bedroom loft, beside a glowing nightstand lamp, brown eyes watched and took in every detail.

          Sometimes the feminine looked with dazed blue eyes at the glazed brown eyes of the watcher seated in a large easy chair.

          For a brief moment their eyes meet. For a brief moment, without touching, the feminine and the watcher share the heavy humid heat of the room, the incredible smells, and the sounds of endless pleasure from the feminine and masculine joined together.

          And then the feminine returned to the private universe within that would always be unseen by and unshared with anyone…

Friday, September 20, 2013

#MIHBlog - Writing, Adjustment, and Daily Life by Alix Richards

As a writer, I expect to run into problems with time. Especially since, I have five children, a husband, and grandson. I used to believe what my mother and others said about my writing, by that I mean, finding the time among family duties. Sadly, I admit, there wasn’t ever enough time in a day for me to write. Family won, writing lost. It wasn’t until my children grew older I realized I had fallen into the same trap many stay-at-home moms (and dads) do. I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore, because children didn’t need me in the same capacity as they used to. By that, I mean, they fixed their own meals, washed their own clothes and so on. Don’t get me wrong, I still did/do a LOT for my children, but those duties no longer required my full attention as they had before.

For the longest time, I used to jot notes, ideas, and short stories down in the dark of night. Nothing long, always after I’d completed those annoying daily chores. I did my duty by my children and later my husband, but the writer in me was always set aside. Even when all I wanted to do was sit down and write until the characters left me alone. I couldn’t, because there was no time for the frivolousness that writing was considered.

It took a while before I learned I was a writer, I am a writer.

When the time came (finally!), I couldn’t stop. I believe I sat at the computer for almost four days straight. Getting up long enough to stretch and fix dinner. I remember, laying down for a total of two hours each night. I just could…not…stop…writing. It was as if something had taken hold and wouldn’t let go until I got down every detail. When it was all over, I had completely written six stories (approx. 75K each) and was half way through a seventh one and six weeks had passed. Needless to say, I learned, really quick, who I was at heart. I was a writer.

That was all back in 2008. Fast forward, children have grown more, I no longer have young children, but I do have a grandson now whom I babysit. Another adjustment is underway and let me tell you it’s not as easy as it was when I was younger. However, this time I have obligations outside my family. Marketing my published books, blog posts, as well as finding the time to keep writing and submitting, among other things. Where then the babies were mine, this time the baby is my daughter’s. As much as I love cuddle time with my grandson, I miss my computer. He has learned how to get my attention when I’m there. It’s adorable and so cute I can’t stay upset for long.

I’ve learned I am at heart and soul a writer, and I love it!

So, how have you adjusted to the writing life?

Alix Richards

Where fantasy and reality collide...

Twin Flames: Soul Bound from MuseItUp Publishing

Twin Flames: Soul Memory from MuseItUp Publishing

Twin Flames: Soul Destiny coming winter 2013/2014

Twin Flames: Soul Design coming spring 2014

Twin Flames: Soul Nature coming summer 2014

Monday, September 9, 2013

#MIHBlog - Meet Christine Rollins - Story-star of A Second Chance by Roseanne Dowell

Hi, I’m Christine Rollins a middle-aged, recently divorced, school secretary. Okay, divorced for two years, that’s fairly recent.

Aside from the fact, well-meaning friends and my daughter have been trying to fix me up with every available man they meet. Since my divorce, I’ve been quite content with my life.  Well, I was for the most part. Why they think I can’t live alone is beyond me. They have no idea how much I’m enjoying my new found freedom. Men complicate things. Besides, I don’t need a man to feel complete or satisfied.

Sure, it was rough going for a while. After the divorce, I was pretty torn up, who wouldn’t be when their husband of 35 years leaves you for a younger woman? But I’ve recovered now, and I have a good life.  Between my job, classes at the local college, and my family, I lead a very fulfilling life. Thank you very much.

At least I thought I did until I came home from Florida after a visit with my son. My daughter introduced me to Steven Payton, her husband’s uncle who just moved back to the states from New Zealand.  Sexy hunk.  He reminded me a bit of my father with his drooping mustache.  Persistent too, I soon discovered, and very attentive. More so than my ex ever was, and he actually listened when I talked about school or work. He asked questions, too.

I didn’t particularly want a new relationship, didn’t need one. But I liked Steven. He was fun and didn’t pressure me for sex like so many of the other men did that my friends fixed me up with. Why men think everything leads to sex, I’ll never know. Steven wasn’t like that. He actually seemed to enjoy just being with me. I don’t think I’d ever met a man like him before.

Everything was moving along just fine, until my ex showed up one day, unexpectedly of course. Poor Steven looked confused as we stood in the driveway, and Tony took over the conversation then whisked me inside, leaving Steven standing outside in the cold.

I was floored when Tony asked me to take him back. For two years I’d been waiting to hear those words. Prayed for them. Suddenly, he stood there in front of me – begging me for a second chance.  Begging! And Tony never begged for anything.

Well what could I say? After all we’d been married for 35 years; he was the father of my children. Didn’t he deserve a second chance?

NOTE: This story is the sweet side of romance (not spicy) - just a darn good love story:) 

Second Chance released June 20, 2011 from MuseItUp Publishing

Visit me at my website – and/or my blog

About Roseanne Dowell

Roseanne grew up reading first Nancy Drew mysteries and soon moved on to Victoria Holt and Phyllis Whitney. She’s a big fan of Agatha Christie and always loved writing even as a teen, often making up different endings to books, and writing poems.

While working as a school secretary, she decided to take a correspondence course, writing for children. It didn’t take long to realize that even though she had six children, it took someone special to write books for them. So, she tried her hand at nonfiction, but didn’t care for that either.  That’s when she moved on to romance novels. But they sat in the attic with her poems and journals.

In 2002 at a Book Club meeting, she confessed regret about not pursuing a career in writing. That’s all it took.  Her friends convinced her it wasn’t too late. After giving it some thought, she decided they were right and took another writing course. Within a few months, her first article was published in Good Old Days Magazine. Since then, she’s had articles published.

In 2006, Roseanne’s first book, Satin Sheets, was published and sold over 35,000 copies. Since then, she’s decided to go the way of the future – E-books.  She writes various types of romance – paranormal, contemporary, mystery and women’s fiction. Her heroines range from their early twenties to late seventies. Yes, seniors need love, too.

Roseanne lives with her husband of fifty years, has six grown children, fourteen grandchildren and two great grandchildren. She spends her time between writing, quilting, and embroidering. She also enjoys blogging, tweeting, facebooking and posting on various writers’ groups. Her favorite time is being with her family.

Visit Roseanne at her website or her blog

Blurb for A Second Chance

Fifty-eight year old, Christine’s family and friends are always trying to play matchmaker, much to her chagrin. When she returns home from a vacation over the Christmas holiday, her daughter introduces her to a sexy, handsome, man. A man, she’s much too attracted to. One she tries to resist, but eventually gives in, and begins to see him on a regular basis.

At least she does until her ex-husband appears on the scene and wants a second chance at their marriage. 


Steven’s rough hand covered hers, igniting smoldering sparks, starting in the pit of her stomach. Christine groaned inwardly and pulled her hand away, trying to ignore him. Not normally a rude person, but something about him invited it. He annoyed her. His magnetism made her uncomfortable. She hadn’t reacted to a man like this since Tony, and that ended in disaster.
Instead, she focused her attention on Jenna and Richard. “I sure have missed you two.”

She looked at her grandchildren and avoided Steven’s eyes. Seeing the sign for baggage claim, she headed toward it. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to get home.”

“Can we stop for dinner?” Jenna hooked her arm through Christine’s. Her long blond hair bounced as she kept up the rapid pace Christine set, leaving all but Steven lagging behind.

Christine threw him a sullen look. He lifted an eyebrow and winked at her through long dark lashes. Great, she amused him. Who did he think he was, God’s gift to women? A bit arrogant…but so darn good looking. Stop it, she told herself. She was acting like a fool, why was she letting this man get to her?

“You’re hungry too, aren’t you, Uncle Steve?” Jenna’s voice broke Christine’s thoughts and drew Steven into the conversation as Jenna linked her other arm through his.

Something about her granddaughter’s tone aroused Christine’s suspicions. This sounded like a setup. Playing matchmaker again. Her family and friends had been trying to match her up since Tony divorced her two years ago.

Christine’s stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “I suppose we can stop for dinner.” Besides, a restaurant held more appeal than the confines of Lisa’s kitchen with Uncle Steve nearby. If they didn’t stop for dinner, Lisa would expect to fix something.

At the restaurant, Steven held Christine’s chair out before sitting opposite her. Still too close for comfort at the small table. Curious about him, she glanced over the top of her menu. She caught his laughing eyes staring at her. He winked, and she pulled the menu up to hide the blush she knew crept into her cheeks. What drew her to this man?

“Uncle Steve just moved back from New Zealand,” Lisa explained. “Derek and I insisted he stay with us.”

Unsure how to reply, Christine just nodded. Now she knew something was fishy in Denmark. Lisa had tried to set her up with Derek’s business associates and just about every widower, divorced, or single man she met.

“Uncle Steve’s a confirmed bachelor.” Richard announced loud enough that people from other tables looked at them and smiled.

“Oh...” Christine couldn’t resist this one. “How have you managed to remain single all these years?” So, they were matchmaking again. Well, Mr. Payton, you won’t be single much longer if Lisa has her way. Christine shuddered at the thought. And neither would she. Something told her she was treading on thin ice here. Too darn attractive for his own good, the type of man to break women’s hearts and walk away. Once was enough for her, thank you very much.

“Never found the woman of my dreams.” Steven leaned back and rocked in his chair.

“And I guess I never found a woman with enough patience to put up with me.” He straightened, reached across the table, patted her hand, and grinned.

“And, why haven’t we met you before now?” Christine pulled her hand away and put it on her lap out of his reach. “I thought I met all of Derek’s relatives.”

“I haven’t been back to the states much since my parents passed away, about twenty years ago. And my job prevented much travel.” His eyes locked on hers as he spoke. “Derek and his mother are the only relatives I have left.”
Christine mumbled an apology and turned her attention to Jenna and Richard. “So what have you two been doing during the holiday break? Skiing, skating?”

Jenna and Richard chattered the rest of the meal, and Christine relaxed and enjoyed them, but she couldn’t keep her gaze from straying to Steven. Of course, sitting across the table from him made it difficult to not look at him. But did she have to openly stare?

Grateful she made it through dinner, and uncomfortable with the feelings Steven stirred in her, she stood to go. When they reached the car, Lisa handed the keys to her uncle. “You drive, and Mom, you sit in front, and I’ll sit in back with the kids.”

Oh you are clever, Lisa, Christine thought. She would have protested but knew it wouldn’t do any good. Good thing the drive home only took ten minutes. She couldn’t believe Lisa was being so obvious about this. Fortunately, Richard and Jenna were still in a talkative mood, and the ride home passed quickly.

Steven pulled the car into her drive, put it in gear, popped the trunk, and got out. He grabbed her luggage and had it halfway to the door before Christine could protest.

Irritated with his attitude, she followed. He’s sure taking liberties. Who does he think he is? She could handle her own luggage. He’s arrogant and too good looking for his own good. Oh stop it, Christine, she admonished, he’s being helpful, a gentleman, that’s all. What made her think he was interested in her anyway? Like she was so special. He probably acted the same way with all women. With his good looks, she doubted he lacked female companions.

He stopped at the door and waited for her. When he took the key from her hand, opened the door, reached inside, and flipped on a light, a warm sensation began in her stomach, and spread outward as he looked down at her.

Something told her this man was dangerous territory. “Thank you.” Christine’s insides trembled. She hoped her voice sounded calm. Holding her hand out for the key, she wished him away.

“Dinner tomorrow.” He said it as a statement not a question.
She felt her eyes narrow. A habit she never managed to break when someone irked her.

How dare he be so presumptuous? “Sorry, I’m busy.” Closing the door halfway against him, she tried to hide behind it.

He reached up, and combed his fingers through her short blond hair. The small gesture electrified her. She backed away. He chuckled, winked at her, and pulled the door closed behind him.

Darn it all, why was she acting like a silly teenager who had a crush on the football captain? Infuriated at the feelings he instilled in her, she leaned against the door. Her body trembled. From anger or attraction, she wasn’t sure. Christine shook her head, trying to clear it.

Exhausted from her trip, Christine went to bed, trying to erase Steven from her mind. She closed her eyes and visions of his laughing eyes appeared. She turned the pillow, punched it, and closed her eyes again, willing herself to sleep. Darn it, why did that man affect her like this? She tossed and turned through a dream-filled night.

Friday, September 6, 2013

Anything Goes: Writer's Block - is there a cure? A Writer's Confession

For years I’ve stumbled along by the seat of my pants with writing novels, calling my non-writing times process time. After all, I thought, I’m new at this and avoiding the word ‘blocked’ makes it not so, right?  

Honestly, I never accepted there was such a thing as ‘writer’s block,’ at least not for me.

I have a confession to make, however, one I’m not proud of…I’ve not written one word on any novel since the first of June…yep, three full months of zip-zam-pooey.

Every time I make a point to sit and write, something always comes up, interferes, distracts, or takes priority. *LOL* That shiny thing that momentarily takes my complete focus…or as my dog sees it…a squirrel.

I have tons of reasons…all good, of why I’m not writing. Examples: Blogging, Editing, Article writing, Helping writer friends or aspiring writers, Book Reviewing, Interviewing, Marketing, Promoting, Social Networking, Blog touring…and the list goes on…same as yours.

Now, I’m feeling desperate to figure out why I’m doing everything else but novel writing. I have a third book to write in my Lycan series…what is happening inside this creative brain of mine to hold up the LIIA story stars? They’re ready and anxious to get their story down.

Let me tell you about this amazing writing coach, Cathy Yardley…well more specifically about her book, Write Every Day – How to Write Faster, and Write More. It’s part of her Rock Your Writing Series

My whole deal about not writing is that I’ve piled so much on my plate, I’m stuffed, can’t take another bite…and yet I do (like most of us do). 

This book breaks it down into four specific culprits – and you’d think how easy to pick and choose what those are. Well, it’s not easy…if you were to know what they are, they would no longer be an issue. But the funny thing is…most of us are clueless; we just think we know what’s taking a bite out of our writing.

Ms. Yardley has dazzled me…thoroughly. Here’s a listing of the chapters in her book so you get a good idea of what I’m talking about: Identifying Your Issues; Time; Energy; Fear; Process; Support Network; Action Plan; Conclusion; Further Resources.

In Ms. Yardley’s introduction to the book, she clarifies it is for people who want desperately to write more books – more easily and more quickly. What WED focuses on is becoming aware of what stops a writer from achieving this goal. She takes the writer through exercises and a bit of homework to make this discovery, and we all know with awareness comes acknowledgment, and then our means to move past the block, hurtle, fear, energy vampire, etc.

Recognition of the issue is more than half the battle of overcoming it.

I’m excited about this book – have taken time out of my tight schedule of not writing my novel to follow along with Ms. Yardley’s exercises.

I’m not finished reading it, but I’m doing some homework specific to figuring out my own personal issues – once aware, I will get back to what I love most…writing my novels. I’m in the process of developing a writing schedule that seems to be working – to sit down daily with nothing else opened but my WIP and actually writing…two hours every morning. YAY!!

The writing life is amazing when a writer writes;) Wishing you all productive happy writing:)

Is there some resource or practice you've found that alleviates a total stop in your novel writing? Please, please, please leave a comment and share;)

Kay Dee

Write Every Day – How To Write Faster, and Write More

By Cathy Yardley


Do you want to write more novels?

Maybe you’re having trouble finding time to write in a busy, jam-packed week.

Maybe you’re exhausted when you do manage to carve out some time to write.

Or maybe, when you’ve got the time and energy, you either waste time and then wonder where the day went… or you face a blank page, unable to type “anything decent.”

Pinpoint what’s stopping you – and find real solutions.

WRITE EVERY DAY is specifically geared for fiction authors who are juggling busy home lives, work lives, and the new pressures to “build a platform” while simultaneously producing more books. 

Instead of rote advice (i.e. “just get your butt in the chair and write”) it gives clear instructions for zeroing in on what’s really preventing you from writing, and then offers a selection of simple suggested solutions to carve out more time, get more focus, and gently dissolve writer’s block. 

Similar to other books in the Rock Your Writing series, WRITE EVERY DAY takes a wealth of resource material and distills it down into one clear, helpful approach.