Steph's Blogfest & Book Review: "A Bitch Named Karma".

Book Blurb: Blogfest entry at bottom of page.

Karma may be a bitch, but sometimes she knows what she’s doing.

When author Lexi Marshall’s perfectly fabulous life of designer clothes, nights on the town with her sexy boyfriend, and a successful writing career literally go up in flames, she must take on Karma and fight to gain control over her life.

Lexi believes her cliché-filled novels are the reason for Karma’s wrath and after a high calorie pity party, she’s determined to rebuild her life to what it once was... How could Karma be so cruel?

Book Review:

A Bitch Named Karma by Stephanie Haefner.

To start with, the cover image of this novel implies it fits in the shamefaced genre (if you’re a prude) labelled erotica! Well, I can categorically state “A Bitch Named Karma” is not an erotic novel. It’s funny, sexy in small doses, irreverent, and OK so it does have a little strong language scattered here and there, but without it the character Lexi - a truly materialistic self-obsessed girl - wouldn’t be the Lexi you’ll come to love by end of book.


If you’ve ever read Sophie Kinsella’s hilarious novels or Helen Fielding’s witty “Bridget Jones” books, well, I can tell you Stephanie meets all the criteria for the chick-lit genre! Her fabulous creation the narcissistic Lexi (novelist) cannot think beyond upcoming royalty check and which Jimmy Choo shoes to purchase on next payout. And, of course, alongside her writing she strives to keep her boyfriend in a perpetual state of arousal and insane with lust for Lexi alone.


Life has never looked better for Lexi, until she stops off to pick up a royalty check at the publishing house. In-house shuffles are underway, her own lovely editor replaced by a frightful fire-breathing dragon, and this lady spares Lexi no punches on bad news delivered. With her designer plumage metaphorically singed and writer esteem in tatters, her new editor claims her latest novel is utter crap! If you think that isn’t bad enough, well wait ‘til Lexi turns up at her boyfriend’s office with intention of springing a sexy surprise. This is not her day, and things just go from bad to worse, but this is where as a reader you may begin to side with Lexi, for Karma is reaping harsh revenge.


Cast into a pit of despair Lexi endeavours to claw her way back even if it means eating a little humble pie and knuckling down to serious revisions to placate her new editor. Her love life, too, is not as it once was and when betrayal comes to light the realisation that best friends can sometimes be too close for comfort shakes the very foundations of Lexi’s existence. Turning to another best friend for sympathy is not always a wise move, and Lexi reaps an unexpected “gift” for indulging a whim. If she thought her life set to change for the better writing-wise, it suddenly heats up with a new “hot” love interest and, everything looks exceedingly rosy in her love garden.


Yeah, yeah, Lexi just knew it was all going too good, too soon, and boy does it all go wrong again. But, best friend “gift” boy steps into the breech once again and Lexi moves in with him and his boyfriend. They all three set up home together, [keeping plot secret] and all look as though about to live happily ever after. But, “Karma” at last relents and allows “hot” love interest back into her life just when she needs a strong hand to grip hold of.

Believe me, you won’t be disappointed if you purchase “A Bitch Named Karma”. It hits all the right buttons for chick-lit, and provides a roller-coaster ride into Lexi’s life. It’s written first-person POV so very up close and personal!

You can purchase it at or locate it on Amazon quite easily.

Valentine's Day: Stephanie's blogfest

This is such a simple must do blogfest, the only criteria answer 5 questions,

and it's Stephanie's first blogfest!

1- What is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you?

Answer: placed a wild briar rose in my hair/bought me a horse!

2- What is your favorite love song?

Answer: Move Closer

3- Do you have a favorite romantic movie or book?

Answer: Book made into movie/Wicked Lady

4- Do you have any romantic plans for Valentine's Day this year?

Answer: no - due to flue, but will have a candlelit dinner.

5- What's your favorite romantic treat? (candy, chocolate, edible body paint, etc...)

Answer: bottle of Moet and Swiss chocs!

To see other participant entries go here.

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Impart realism to a manuscript with the three main senses!

Sometimes the above is easier said than achieved.

It's too easy to write away and not think about 

a) environment surrounding our characters.

b) how best to convey what they're feeling.

c) describe what they're seeing.

 And, then there's the how might they express themselves  in relation to all the above?

Utilising the senses within our writing is topic of conversation at Heroines' with Hearts, so you might like to drop by and see how we tackle the subject.   

Book Review: The Treasures of Carmelidrium by N. R. Williams.

Book Blurb!

When a hooded man steps in front of her car, Missie is thrust through a portal into a medieval world where she encounters monsters and mythical creatures. Unbeknown to her, the playing of her flute casts magical powers to heal, destroy and to empower. Within the lands of Gil-Lael she's romanced by a prince and hunted by the villain. Will she find her way home? Does she want to?

Book Review:

As fantasy epics go I’m a big fan of J. R.R.Tolkien’s “The Silmarillion” – “Lord of the Rings” and “The Hobbit”. So, it was with great interest that I selected Nancy’s book as one of seven to grace my new Kindle! As far as I could see Nancy was up against it, big time.

That said, Nancy's MC Michelle leads off and seems a nice enough girl with a promising musical talent for playing the flute. She’s obviously a tad wary of Professor Cloche (music tutor) who displays strange interest in her, which appears a little unhealthy. But, like a lot of good novel beginnings nothing is quite as it seems.

The pace picks up a little when Michelle sets off in her Jeep to drive home. Without spoiling the plot, something occurs that keeps a reader on the edge of their seat, and somehow Michelle (Missie) drives through a portal into another dimension. Although Michelle's nature is easy-going, she soon displays a more feisty spirit when the shock of her predicament wears off and reality kicks in.

I figured the moment Missie set eyes upon Healden, he had to be the hero within the mediaeval nether world she's unwittingly entered into. In my mind it was a case of, will Healden stand up to similar heroes such as Aragorn, Boromir and Legolos from “The Lord of the Rings”? Believe me, Healden is every bit the courageous warrior prince in “The Treasures of Carmelidrium” as aforementioned in “Lord of the Rings”. Needless to say Healden soon charms a reluctant Missie into his arms.

But of course, evil forces are at work. Renwyck, a dark lord whom holds power of psychic control over some nasty beasties, has it in mind to become King of this nether world. With his lust for supreme power comes overwhelming desire for the new woman in Healden’s life (Missie), for she holds the key to Renwyck’s possible downfall. Needless to say, kidnap and terrible doings not only lead to war Missie succumbs to Renwyck’s deceptive practices. Again, nothing is quite as it seems, and the author keeps the suspense ticking along as mysterious magic reveals future paths for Missie. Which one will she choose?

Throughout the novel, despite everything that happens, Missie’s desire is to secure a way back to her own world and return home. Or is it that her only desire? Strange as it may seem, there has to be a way back to her world because someone else left the nether world and has returned to once again be her mentor! It’s a lovely story with intimate moments between hero and heroine and, action packed kidnap and battle scenes. It's basically a darn good read.


To know how to get your mitts on this novel, pop over to Nancy's blog.

Is your WIP a Chaotic minefield for readers?

So, is your WIP in crisis and spinning toward sense of chaos?

Does it read like something from the pages of history combined with 21st century slant?

That's fine if you're writing a historical fantasy incorporating time portal to other/parallel/para-normal world:  depicted below.

If you're writing contemporary novels do you use specific authors from differing countries (within your chosen genre) as guiding lights? After all, some words/phrases expressed in the US can mean something entirely different in another country.  Take the words fanny and spunk.

In the US they're relatively innocent.

"She sat on her fanny kicking her heels more kid than adult. . ."  

"That boy's got real spunk, and . . ."

In the UK those same words have serious sexual connotations as well,

so "Beware" is a wise watch word! 

Because this is an open blog I dare not post erotic examples!    

Which author, if any has influenced your writing? 

Do you slavishly follow and attempt to recreate every aspect of that author's style (voice)?

Did you make a wise choice in selecting your virtual mentor?

Go on, fess up!

I did, here but you don't have to go read my post if you're not inclined.

No Fear Blogfest!

This blogfest is kindly hosted by Dominic at Writes of Passage  and,

I'm in this purely for the fun of blogfesting (addicted to the damn things) not in hope of a prize.

Brief: the following snippet is taken from one of my Romantic Thrillers!

‘You shouldn’t have worn Chanel No 5, Sweetheart.’

The game was at end, Mac’s tone less than friendly. She steeled herself to face him, stepped forward CD in hand. ‘You wanted it,’ she snarled, ‘now you’ve got it.’

He snatched it from her hand, grabbed her other hand and hauled her back toward the house. ‘You and I are going to play this goddamned game right through to the bitter end, even if I have to tie you to a fucking chair.’ He bundled her through the kitchen door, flung the CD on the kitchen table; let go of her hand. ‘OK, you’ve had your laugh, given McKinley a right run-a-round, emotionally and otherwise. But this . . . Sweetheart, is the end of the love affair. Just you and me and no one to see, hear, or stop me from doing what I should have done when I first arrived here.’

Cassie backed away, his tone aggressive. She feared Chay, Phil, Rhian, and DI Pratt had all been duped by his suave charming manner, that her welfare was now no longer of importance. She glanced toward a row of kitchen knives hanging in a rack; close enough to grab one.

Mac followed her line of vision and reached inside his jacket.

This was not good.

As expected he slipped his firearm from its holster. He released the safety catch, and much to her surprise placed it on the table and pushed it toward her.



Cassie looked at the weapon in disbelief, at the same time assessed it as being closer to him than to her. She looked to his face, his eyes searching hers and all manner of emotions etched within.

His tone as good as iced ether. ‘If it makes you feel any safer, pick it up. It’s cocked ready to fire.’


Was he thinking counter strike, if she reached for it? Of course he was.

She reached for it faster than she’d ever reached for anything in her life before. He made no move to snatch it back. She picked it up, pointed the hateful device in his direction, yet he remained casually leaning against the washing machine, the loaded gun pointed at his chest.

Was he scared, was his mouth dry like hers, was his heart pounding like hers, or was the gun empty? She mustn’t look, mustn’t take her eyes off him.

‘You had no reason to run, Cassie. The fact the CD could so easily get me killed is less important to me than what and who you think I might be.’

‘I suppose you’re about to deny your code name is Hasan?’ she said, conscious of his blue eyes not leaving hers for a second. ‘And of course, you’re going to tell me you’re not a sadistic bastard who kills for financial gain.’

‘I’m none of those things. If I were don’t you think you’d be history by now?’ He slowly stood upright, locked the kitchen door and removed the key, which he slid into his pocket. ‘Your hands are shaking, Sweetheart, and I’m overly sensitive to the fact that you’ve got a loaded gun in your hand. He moved cautious as a cat toward the hall doorway. ‘I love you Cassie, have from the moment I saw you in the flesh.’

Cassie viewed his words as tactical ploy. ‘I know how to use this, and will if I have to,’ she stressed, eager to regain sense of power. ‘You made a grave mistake, Mac, in letting me have it.’

‘I trust you, but for Christ’s sake do not sneeze.’

His implication that she couldn’t fail to hit him if she squeezed the trigger inspired a sense of confidence. ‘Move away from the door, Mac.’

He half laughed, moved round the table. ‘You won’t get past Rasp, so why not put the weapon down, and listen to what I have to say.’

She ignored his suggestion, her finger toying the trigger as she moved toward the door.

‘For fuck’s sake, Cassie, set the safety catch, and believe me when I say I set this trap purely for personal reasons. Rasp ain’t out there, and Easton’s a thousand miles away by now.’

‘You really think I’m going to swallow that, when they’ve been shadowing you every minute of every day?’ Her hands started shaking again, and she sensed unease for Mac’s part. ‘Not easy to face a gun, is it Mac?’

Sense of power terrified her, the power of holding the life of another in one’s hands, but she held the commanding position. She could back along the hall and go out through the front door in the knowledge that they were very definitely alone.

She glanced at the kitchen clock: Where had the time gone? Five minutes and the taxi driver would be waiting in Tatton Terrace.

‘You misinterpreted the game Cassie, the Jammy Dodgers game.’

‘Game,’ she exclaimed, ‘it’s no game. You killed a girl, and you killed a Dutch financier.’

‘You’re wrong, Cassie. Oh so goddamned wrong. Yes, I was there, but I didn’t kill Carlos’ daughter. Jamie did, and if you’d played the game to the end you’d know by now that I’m Vizier, not Hasan. Believe this, Cassie, Jamie was Hasan.’

‘I don’t believe you. You’re trying to destroy Jamie in my eyes, destroy everything we ever had.’ She moved a step closer to freedom. ‘Jamie was, I know, sympathetic to the Palestinian cause, but not to the extent of becoming an assassin.’

‘Sympathetic to freedom from oppression,’ stressed Mac. ‘He allied himself to Hamas and the terrorist cause, because he had to.’

‘It’s a lie, all lies.’

‘Damn it all, Cassie.’ Mac raked fingers through his hair in a gesture of utter frustration, leaned on the table head bowed as though unable to look at her. ‘Just remember you’re the one who forced this issue, forced me to tell you something you don’t want to hear. ‘Amy, remember?’

‘Your daughter,’ replied Cassie, unsure how Amy entered into the equation.

‘Only she wasn’t my daughter.’ His blue eyes levelled on hers, his expression unreadable. ‘She was Jamie’s.’

‘No,’ she heard herself wail, ‘it can’t be true.’ Tears inescapably flowed forth, and she lowered the gun. ‘Mac, please, tell me it isn’t true.’

He moved toward her, as though sure he’d convinced her that he was no threat. ‘Put the gun on the table, Sweetheart.’

She raised it again fearful aware that he’d almost disarmed her by subtle and devious means. ‘You don’t fool me Major McKinley. Not with your smart talking smarmy ways, or your sexually applied skills in bed. You are what you are.’

‘OK,’ he conceded, ‘take the fucking CD, wherever you want for twenty-four hours.’ He threw it on top of the refrigerator where she could easily reach it. ‘When you’ve finished the game, ring me on my cell phone and call me a liar then, if you can.’

She reached for the CD. Slipped it in the rucksack, but in that split second loss of concentration Mac robbed her superiority. She’d stupidly averted her eyes from his, and the vicelike grip on her wrist caused her to inadvertently squeeze the trigger. The sound of a shot echoed through the house. Mac instantly keeled over and slid to the floor. She looked down at him, witnessed blood trickling from his left temple.

Oh God.

She dropped the gun and fled.

The front door fought back, mad haste hampering flight. He’d lied, yet again. She sped past an astonished Rasp as he came rushing up the steps, and kept on running ‘til she reached the taxi waiting in Tatton Terrace: the driver there as promised.

     



To read other entries in this blogfest go here.