Hello!  Welcome to my blog.  My guest today is one of my very favorite authors.  Her name is Jennifer Rae Gravely, and I believe you'll like her work as much as I do.  Jennifer, thank you so much for letting me interview you.  I know you're busy now that volleyball season has arrived.  For anyone who didn't know, Jennifer is the volleyball coach for the Pickens High volleyball team.  She's won four state championships.

Jennifer, Can you tell us five things about you that nobody would ever guess? Actually, you’d probably be able to tell if you met me more than once, but I love to change my hair color, and I mean drastically. From blond to a deep red mahogany, and even to an orange creamcicle color I found myself with the other day. In addition, my heroines tend to have the flavor of the season too. For instance, Persephone, from Knight of the Dead, has long, wavy deep red mahogany hair to match my color this past winter when I was writing the romantic suspense. Today I’m a brunette, and my newest heroine Randi has the same light brown color.

Wow! I’m going to count that as two things, Elaine.  Okay, would you believe that I’m actually a shy person, uncomfortable in the spotlight? Yet I always find myself being selected as the spokesperson when in a group situation; others must get the impression that I’m outgoing. Maybe it’s because I can lean toward the bossy side. Just ask my family.

Finally, sports and competition, at times, consume my life. During the volleyball season—I coach varsity volleyball at Pickens High School—I lose myself in the passion of the sport, and in the thrill of winning. With the season started, I’m obsessed with getting my fifth state championship, and a fourteenth for Pickens High School. However, I hope to find some time to write, and to read some great books.

What do you think makes a book a page turner? A solid plot and characters that make you feel.

Which genre of books appeals least to you? Why? Probably anything in the non-fiction section—I read to escape rather than to learn.  Also anything that is super technical. That goes back to the reading as entertainment rather than to further my knowledge these days.

On the average, how long does it take you to write a book? Considering my first unpublished novel and sequel took about ten years, and my published book Knight of the Dead took about six months from start to release, that would put my average at a little less than five years!

LOL.  That's funny.  Readers, I've read those first two books.  You wouldn't believe how good they are.  Would you share your links with us? Right now I’m in the process of designing a website with a blog, and I haven’t taken the plunge into the world of twitter. Remember, I told you, I am a shy person at heart! But you can find Knight of the Dead at Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and any number of other sites offering ebooks under Jennifer Rae Gravely.

We’d love to read an excerpt. Be sure to give us a buy link. Thanks, Elaine, for letting me stop by your blog.

From chapter two: the heroine works at a daycare, and is waiting with the new child for the father.

The pristine white SUV pulled in the church parking lot at a

quarter to six. This had to be him. Persephone ushered Rose out the

door and met the businessman as he slid from his vehicle. At least

six feet two inches with broad shoulders and an athletic build, he

oozed confidence as he stepped forward.

He didn’t offer an apology for keeping her waiting but

instead addressed the child, “How did you like your first day,

Rosebud?” He ruffled her short brown hair.

“My teacher read me a story about a giraffe. When can we

go see a giraffe?” Rose hopped from side to side.

“Someday,” he answered. “When it gets warmer.” He pulled

her navy blue wool coat tighter around her, but they continued to

stand in the space beside his immaculately detailed vehicle.

Persephone didn’t have time for the tender moment, but she

tried to remain patient rather than risk offending the man. Rose

resembled her father, with the same blue eyes and high

cheekbones. Even though his dark hair belied a hint of gray at the

temples, it did nothing to detract from his arresting good looks. No

doubt his wife was gorgeous too — the picture perfect family. An

unexpected wave of envy caught Persephone off guard.

“Can Miss Purr-So-Funny come home with us and read

another story?”

After glancing in Persephone’s direction, he turned his

attention to his daughter. “It’s Persephone,” he corrected. “Did

Miss Persephone tell you the story of her name? Her story explains

why we have spring.” Rose shook her head and then looked at

Persephone in excited anticipation.

Persephone hesitated. She needed to be gone ten minutes

ago. “Can I tell you tomorrow morning?” It was now completely

dark, and she still had one headlight that didn’t work on her car.

Rose looked crushed. “I thought you were coming home

with us.”

Persephone shook her head slowly. “Not tonight. I have

plans.”

“We’re not going home anyhow, Rosebud.” The father

opened the back door and hoisted Rose to the booster seat and

buckled her in. Rose waved, and then he closed the door.

As Persephone turned to leave, Rose’s father spoke, “I have

to go back to my office. I know you said you had plans, but I really

need someone to watch Rose while I work. I’ll pay you thirty

dollars an hour.” His blue eyes were serious. “Cash.”

Persephone quickly did the math. “I need to run an errand

first. Can you give me the address and I’ll meet you there?”

“Absolutely.” He reached in the pocket of his brown blazer

and pulled out a business card. She noticed the wedding band as he

handed her the card. His nails were trimmed and neat. The address

was on the north side of town. “It’s the free standing white-washed

house with the towering magnolia tree in the front beside the

stairs.”

“I know the place.” She smiled, looking up into his blue

eyes. “The old Timmon’s Home at the end of the business block on

North Main Street.” Breaking her eyes from his intensity, she

glanced again at the card.

“Yes,” he confirmed. He ran his hand through his dark hair,

making the front flip up. “I’ll tell Rose that you’ll join us later.

She’ll be thrilled.”

“She’s a sweet girl. See you soon, Mr. Lawrence.”

Persephone spun on her heel and paced the length of the

playground to the employee lot. She checked her phone for the

time. Ten minutes. Maybe she could still make it.

Jennifer, thank you so much for sharing with my readers.  Persephone is a heroine that most of us can relate to and admire.  In one week she gets thrown out of an insurance agency, loses her job, is mistaken for a ...  Well, never mind.  As you can see, there's a lot going on!  Here's a link to the book at Astraea Press.  They sell pretty much all formats there.  http://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=662245&mode=product&product=13594241

Release Day!

Today is usually the day for Beyond the Book, but it's also a special day for my friend Jennifer.  Her very first book released today, and I wanted to tell you about it.  First, here's a little bit about Jennifer in her own words.

Jennifer Rae Plizga Gravely

Born in Ohio but raised in Pickens, SC, I graduated from Converse College with a triple major in history, politics, and English before earning my Masters in Education in the mid-1990s.  A sports enthusiast, I returned to my high school alma mater to teach and coach volleyball, winning four state championships.  I live with my husband, daughter, nine beagles, and two cats.

Want to hear about her book?  Here's a blurb and excerpt from her book Knight of the Dead.

Blurb:

Persephone Richards is in a pinch. With a wrecked car and bills stacking up, the income from her job at the daycare isn’t enough. Mark Lawrence needs a sitter for his little girl and Persephone is perfect for the job. What begins as an employment opportunity leads to romance. However, a secret Persephone hides threatens the happy ever after and puts the three of them in danger.

Excerpt:

Knight of the Dead

 Chapter One

Persephone stared beyond his bald head as he peered at the insurance claim form. The office stretched deep behind him. Each of the three identical, black metal desks arranged in a vertical row held laptops humming in sleep mode.

Closed doors, presumably leading to executive offices with huge picture windows overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains, lined the west wall, whereas framed landscape pictures of local waterfalls decorated the opposite, windowless side. An ugly wooden counter separated the shabbily-furnished waiting area in the front from the modern underbelly of the insurance office.

“How do you say…” The saggy-jawed, low-level car insurance agent pointed his jagged fingernail to the first line on the paper before looking into her blue eyes.

“It’s Persephone.” She brushed her deep red mahogany hair from her shoulders. Then she repeated the words she’d uttered a million times. “You know, the Greek goddess of the Underworld.” Wearing black mules with one-inch heels, she straightened to a full six feet.

“Afraid I don’t. Weren’t interested in school much,” he drawled. His crooked smile widened as he focused on her face and then her body. She wore a black belted sweater coat, a gray ribbed sweater over a lacy black camisole, and skinny jeans that hugged her lean body. “But come to think of it, you look like a goddess.”

She had heard that a million times too. “Thanks.” Persephone tapped the form on the counter between them to refocus his attention like she did with the preschool children at the daycare where she worked. “About my claim.”

“I might be able to help a sweet young thang like you, Per-per-se…” The wrinkles spread across his baldness like ripples in a pond.

“Persephone,” she repeated. “Persephone Richards.” The nerve of the man to hit on her and not even be able to pronounce her name! “I need the money for the repairs on my car. The front bumper is held on by wire! Wire!” She threw her arms over her head in disgust. “I’ve called several times, and each time I’ve been brushed aside. I want the money owed to me.”

“Can’t help you, Miss Richards.”

Persephone squared her shoulders. “Then I need to talk with your manager.” This peon couldn’t solve the problem anyhow.

“Mr. Franklin’s not here,” claimed the middle-aged man in a blue button-down shirt, which barely covered his beer paunch. “Lunch time.”

“I want the money owed to me by your company.”

“Sorry. No can do.” He shrugged his shoulders and smirked. “Next.” He gestured to the old woman behind Persephone in the waiting room.

“I need it by tomorrow.” Her eyes grew wild, and she pounded her fist on the counter as she punctuated each word. “Your company owes me the money.” The coffee mug holding black pens overturned. “I want it now.”

As the mug crashed to the worn pine flooring, the short bald man took a cowardly step backwards. “I’ll get someone.” He scurried away past the desks and made a left out of sight.

Persephone twirled around to check the clock over the couch in the front room but couldn’t make out the digital reading because of the glare of the winter sun glinting through the huge picture windows. The barren branches of the azalea bushes lining this section of downtown Keowee reminded Persephone that winter’s trials would give way to spring’s glory. However, patience wasn’t a quality she possessed in abundance at this point in life.

Stepping forward with her hand shading her eyes from the noonday sunlight, Persephone slipped on a pen. As she leaned over to massage her ankle, her hobo bag fell from her shoulder, spilling its contents to the floor. Her cell phone and a tube of lipstick slid under the counter to the other side.

Persephone straightened before moving around the counter to retrieve the items. Despite being in an area reserved for the agents and officials of the insurance office, she felt no remorse in peeking at the “Reserved for Office Use” area on the form she filled out earlier. Under the comments section in black ink she read the words, “Low credit scores; bad risk. Deny claim.”

Persephone seethed with indignation. Since when did being a little behind paying bills make you undeserving of money owed to you legitimately. She wasn’t trying to get a policy from this huge chain company but rather collect the money owed to her because of the carelessness of one of their policy holders.

Without hesitation, Persephone grabbed one of the black pens and scratched through the negative comments on the form.

“What are you doing on this side?” shouted the bald man unnecessarily. He stood right beside her. “Give that to me.” He snatched the form.

“My credit, or lack thereof, shouldn’t influence whether or not I get the money.” Persephone stomped her foot in anger. “The accident wasn’t my fault.”

The man flinched. “Mr. Franklin’s coming back. I hear the door now.” He scurried away into the mouth of the cave like a cockroach.

To Persephone’s surprise he returned directly with a taller, thinner man dressed in a tan overcoat. With a long, narrow face and beady, dark brown eyes, the fifty something man had about him an air of arrogance. Persephone attacked. “I want the money owed to me by your company.” She put her hands on her hips.

“Our policy in certain cases is to require that you get your vehicle repaired first, and then we’ll talk about reimbursement.” He removed his tan leather gloves and held them in his left hand.

“That’s not right.” Her blood boiled, steam pouring from her ears like a cartoon character. “I’m driving around in a car that’s held together by superglue and wire.”

“Not my problem,” he said as he dismissed her. “Kindly step back to the other side.”

“If I don’t?” She leaned forward. She wanted to drop an anvil on his head.

“Bill.” He turned to the bald man standing near the first desk. “Call the police.”

Persephone waivered. Hitting the man would give her great pleasure but wouldn’t remedy the situation. “You’ve not heard the last of me.” She wagged her finger in his face. Spinning on her heels, she stormed toward the front doors, scanning the area for something to break. She had to settle for wiping her hands across a side table, scattering magazines to the floor.

“If you return,” the manager bellowed as she slammed through the front doors with both hands, “we’ll have you arrested.”

You can buy the book at http://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=662267&mode=product&product=13594241

See you next week for another edition of Beyond the Book.