Tag Archives: romantic suspense

The Lies He Told Me, win a book contest

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CONTEST!! I have a contest for you today— ?

Send me an email at sylviegraysonauthor@gmail.com by December 1st with the subject line “My Funniest Lie” and tell me the most embarrassing lie you ever told! I will pick 4 names to win my book—The Lies He Told Me.

When a police detective falls for his main suspect, life gets complicated.

When Chloe Bowman’s husband disappears, never did she imagine that in the midst of the search to find him, she’d discover she didn’t really know this man at all. She’s left alone with her young son and a time bomb on her hands. Lurking in the shadows is the mysterious Rainman.

Police Detective Ross Cullen was already investigating Chloe’s husband when he disappeared. But the deeper Ross digs the less he knows, and the more he’s attracted to the young wife as she struggles to put her life back together. Can Ross break through the Rainman’s disguises to solve the case so he can be with Chloe?

Remember— I need your email to sylviegraysonauthor@gmail.com by Dec 1st for your chance to win!

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Writing, the process

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We found a garden slug travelling up the garage door the other day. It was a beautiful shiny black, moving so slowly I could have gone for lunch and come back by the time he moved about twelve inches. We have them here in various colours—tan, brown, spotted, as well as black. I’ve seen them crossing our gravel driveway, and wonder what benefit there can possibly be to travel at that pace across what must seem a desert of sharp stones on a smooth slimy stomach.

On the other hand, and in contrast to the slugs, we also have the Pacific chorus frog. They are so tiny, they often back into the petals of my dahlia blooms and wait there to catch flies or mosquitoes as they fly past. They are fast, I’ve only been able to catch one in all the time we’ve lived here on the west coast—or the wet coast, as we like to say. And unlike the slugs, they are loud. In February and March when the frogs emerge from the wetlands and begin to mate, it’s hard to sleep for the noise they produce.

Writing is a lot like these two little animals. Sometimes the process is so slow, it’s like watching paint dry, and about as exciting. Other times it leaps ahead so I can hardly keep up with the flow. One book will take six long months to write. Another will pop out in six weeks, and just need another two for editing. There is no predicting it.

Life happens. So when I am working on The Last War: Book Six and halfway through I have to start reading at the beginning yet again, to get a grasp of what has happened so far and what has yet to take place, I think of the slug moving slowly across the sharp gravel. And if I ever get to a point on this book where I can leap ahead to the finish, I’ll celebrate loudly like the little chorus frog.

What little animals inhabit your world?

Book Giveaway – Sept 25 – Oct 1, enter now!

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Win up to 20+ eBooks & Gain Access to Deals & Steals on even more! I’m participating in this promotion, so enter now!

https://AuthorsXP.com/giveaway

(2) Grand Prize “Gift Baskets” of ALL eBooks!
(20+) Winners of Individual eBooks (randomly selected titles)Authors Participating: Stephany Tullis, Judith Hudson, Rebecca Barrett, Helena Fairfax, Larissa Reinhart, Traci Wooden-Carlisle, Suzanne Jenkins, Effie Kammenou, Martina Boone, Hayley Wescott, Jessica Lourey, Maggie Christensen, Suzanne Kelman, Dani Haviland, Sylvie Grayson, Jodi Thomas, Barbara Bard, Fanny Finch

Click here —  http://AuthorsXP.com/giveaway

Queen–I want to ride my bicycle

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The weather is cooler and I went for a long bicycle ride yesterday. I ride along the road to get the best exercise—up and down the hills, some that are quite steep where I have to stop at the top of the hill to catch my breath and have a drink of water. Then I ride back home along the trails, which go up and down at a much more sedate pace, which suits me well as I’m tired by then.

Fall is definitely in the air. The huge maple leaves are falling heavily. Some of them are more than a foot in width. The colour is neat, but not as intense as in the east where the leaves turn a delightful red. Ours are more orange and yellow, depending on how fast the thermostat sank in the last few weeks.

I’m working on a new book—Book Six of The Last War, but it is coming slowly. There has been a lot of ‘life’ that has gotten in the way. None of which I regret. We’ve had family birthdays, family visits from near and far. We’ve had a new driveway put in, which is great because now the wave of dust from every vehicle is gone—what a relief.

So, as Queen so ably put it—

I want to ride my bicycle,

I want to ride my bike.

I want to ride my bicycle

I want to ride it where I like.

Blackberries, thick and ripe

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I’ve been picking blackberries the last few weeks. They are the most aggressive plant imaginable. There is a local blackberry on Vancouver Island with small leaves and a thin vine that creeps along the ground in undisturbed forest areas. The berries are small and their season is short.

Then there are the Himalayan blackberries, with thick tough vines and huge thorns. We were picking the Himalayans. They have a long season, stretching into early October depending on the weather, and the berries are huge. The bushes were on the other side of a ditch, so we backed the truck across the ditch and stood on the flatbed to pick. I still got clawed and scratched but they are so plentiful we filled three buckets.

I learned how to pick these berries from the mother of a friend. She always went out prepared. She wore heavy jeans, tucked into socks, with heavy boots and thick soles. That way she could use her foot to flatten the vines and move forward into the jungle. She wore a cotton shirt, with a long sleeved shirt over so the thorns could grab the top shirt and she wouldn’t get clawed. She had a belt around her waist that was threaded through the handle of her berry bucket. Then she wore one leather glove to grab the vine and left her other hand free for picking. She also carried a wire coat hanger to hook the vines and pull them forward if needed.

I lived on Vancouver Island until my eleventh birthday. Then my family moved to the North Peace area. Time passed, we moved on again to the Kootenays, and it was years later that I decided to return to Victoria to attend university. It was early September, and I was waiting at a bus stop to take me up to the university campus for the first time. There was a blackberry bush behind the bench, and I leaned over and picked a few berries. They tasted like home. I had forgotten how good they were, but those few berries reminded me. I’ve lived on the island ever since.

What wild fruit do you pick near your home?