Hey folks! Today I’m happy to introduce you to p.m.terrell and the story A Thin Slice of Heaven!
~ * ~ BIO ~ * ~
p.m.terrell is the pen name for Patricia McClelland Terrell, a multi-award-winning, internationally acclaimed author of more than twenty books in five genres: contemporary suspense, historical suspense, romance, computer how-to and non-fiction.
Prior to writing full-time, she founded two computer companies in the Washington, DC Metropolitan Area. Among her clients were the Central Intelligence Agency, United States Secret Service, U.S. Information Agency, and Department of Defense. Her specialties were in white collar computer crimes and computer intelligence, themes that have carried forward to her suspense.
She is also the co-founder of The Book ‘Em Foundation, an organization committed to raising public awareness of the correlation between high crime rates and high illiteracy rates. She is the organizer and chairperson of Book ‘Em North Carolina, an annual event held in the real town of Lumberton, North Carolina, to raise funds to increase literacy and reduce crime. For more information on this event and the literacy campaigns funded by it, visit http://www.bookemnc.org.
~ * ~ STALK ~ * ~
~ * ~ TOPIC du JOUR ~ * ~
I asked p.m.terrell, “What is the best and most rewarding thing you find about being a writer? Want to share what you think is the worst and most frustrating thing you find about being a writer?” and here is the response.
By far the best and most rewarding thing I find about being a writer is the ability to transcend time and space, placing myself in exotic locations around the world and in a variety of historical settings. I love the research that comes along with writing, learning about other cultures and events that have formed not just the countries but the people within them, altering their futures and even world history.
In my book, The Tempest Murders, I learned about the strongest storm to ever have hit Ireland, called The Night of the Big Wind, and through creative writing, I was able to place myself in the shoes of the main character, Rian Kelly, as he learned his lover had been swept out to sea—at the hands of a killer.
In The White Devil of Dublin, I learned about the Viking conquest of Dublin—and indeed, most of Ireland—and how the Normans eventually ran them out of the country. I was able to place myself in the shoes once again of the main character—this time, the Viking himself, the one they called Hvitr Bard, or The White Devil, as he fought the Norman invaders.
And in A Thin Slice of Heaven, I feel as though I know the castle as intimately as if I’d actually lived there. The book took me into areas both physical and paranormal—historically, with the potato famines of Ireland, and then transcending the physical with ghosts that cause the castle to come alive with the spirits of centuries past.
It is that ability to place myself in those diverse settings, places and times that keep me writing.
The most frustrating thing, I believe, for most authors is simply getting the word out about our books. I’ve been in this industry for more than 40 years; when I first began, marketing and publicity were squarely in the hands of the publisher. Despite today’s increasingly competitive environment, the vast majority of authors are finding that the bulk of promotional and marketing activities are placed at the author’s feet. It means splitting our time between writing—that which we love—and becoming a salesperson. I’ve witnessed years in which less than 75,000 titles were published; about half of which were fiction. Today, more than 4,000,000 titles are published each year and that number is growing. I would much rather write full-time and leave the marketing to someone who is much more qualified than I am at it.
~ * ~ BLURB ~ * ~
She had arranged to meet her husband in Northern Ireland for a second honeymoon, but when Charleigh arrives at the remote castle, she receives a message that he won’t be coming—and that he’s leaving her for another woman.
Stranded for the weekend by a snowstorm that has blocked all access to the castle, she finds herself three thousand miles from home in a country she knows nothing about.
She is soon joined by Sean Bracken, the great-grandson of Laird Bracken, the original owner of the castle, and she finds herself falling quickly and madly in love with him. There’s just one problem: he’s dead.
As the castle begins to come alive with secrets from centuries past, she finds herself trapped between parallel worlds. Caught up in a mass haunting, she can no longer recognize the line between the living and the dead. Now she’s discovering that her appearance there wasn’t by accident—and her life is about to change forever.
~ * ~ EXCERPT ~ * ~
A movement caught her eye and Charleigh started, whirling around. No one was there. She laughed nervously; no doubt, it had been a bird outside the window, its reflection caught in the mirror. Still, she returned to the door. There was a simple doorknob lock which seemed woefully inept, but she quickly recognized a thick piece of wood standing against the wall as an old-fashioned bar, and slipped it into place. It was better than a deadbolt, she reasoned.
She kicked off her shoes and checked her cell phone again. Finding no reception, she returned to the window and held it aloft until a weak bar appeared.
The phone beeped, causing her to jump, as a text message appeared.
She stared at it, not realizing that she’d been holding her breath until it expelled in a whoosh that left her dizzy.
“Charleigh,” it read, “I can’t do this. I’m not in love with you. I’m in love with someone else.”
“The feckin’ arse.”
The sound of the man’s deep, rich voice startled her and she spun around. No one was there. The bar remained across the door. There were no blind spots in the room; it was circular and plainly, though tastefully, furnished. She strode purposefully to the bathroom. A set of candles blazed on the countertop and though the shadows danced in the corners of the room, she could clearly see that she was alone.
Yet she could not have imagined it. The tone had been resonant and almost gravelly, the timber of a man’s voice upon first arising. The brogue had been both commanding and melodious.
But as her heart stilled and her mind allowed the words in the message to sink in, she realized that Ethan was not coming. He perhaps had never intended to join her. And now she was stuck in Ireland as a snowstorm raged outside her windows, three thousand miles from home.
~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~
~ * ~ GIVEAWAY ~ * ~
p.m.terrell will be awarding a Celtic Butterfly Suncatcher similar to the one mentioned in the book, symbolizing both the never-ending cycle of life and the metamorphosis of a butterfly to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. CLICK HERE to enter to Win! Readers, follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates and places can be found here: Tour Schedule
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p.m.terrell, thank you for stopping by today!
Love & blessings to all! ❤