Guest Post: Katie O'Sullivan

Today is a very special day. Katie O'Sullivan is here to talk about her new book from Crescent Moon Press and it is terrific! :-) Don't forget to enter her contest. (See the instructions below.) You could win a copy of her book.
Hi, Penelope! Thanks for inviting me here today to introduce myself and talk a little about my new release, SON OF A MERMAID.

I’m an author, an editor, and the mother of three teenagers. I live year round on Cape Cod, near the beaches and crashing waves that make this area a magnet for tourists three months of every year. The ocean and sandy shores remain even after the tourists pack up to go home, and my family takes full advantage of life surrounded by all this natural beauty.

The true locals call people like me “wash-ashores” – someone who visits Cape Cod for a vacation or a season, and ends up staying. Which means, I’m not really from here. Originally from New Jersey, I spent summers on the Jersey Shore. My husband grew up in the Boston area, and although his childhood summers were spent here on the Cape, he’s considered a wash-shore too.

When we started our own family, we wanted our kids to have the same memories of beach days and sailing lessons that my husband and I each have. We bought a summer cottage here on Cape Cod, and after several years we made the decision to move here full-time.

Although the opening scenes of my book take place in Oklahoma, most of the action takes place on Cape Cod, both above and below the surface of the Atlantic. The main character, fifteen-year-old Shea MacNamara, grew up on a farm in the middle of the U.S. He’d never even caught a glimpse of the ocean or learned to swim… when suddenly strange dreams start haunting him. Dreams of drowning, and dreams of mermaids.

He has no idea why he would be dreaming about drowning, when it was a tornado that destroyed his farm and changed his life. Just as he has no clue as to who – or where – his mother might be, only that she disappeared from his life right after he was born. It’s only after moving to Cape Cod that the pieces start falling into place.

In the following excerpt, we catch a glimpse of one of Shea’s nightmares.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Excerpt from SON OF A MERMAID, 2013 from Crescent Moon Press

The blue-green coolness swirled around him as his body tumbled down through the water, arms and legs flailing as he struggled to hold his breath. Millions of tiny bubbles of precious air traced the path of his descent, escaping from his clothing and through his nose.

Eyes wide even as the water rushed past, he watched a huge school of shimmering minnows part down the middle as they swam around him, surrounding him like a silvery box. Turning his face upward to the surface, he could see the blue sky receding further and further as he sank deeper into the water’s depths.

His throat and lungs burned from the effort of holding his breath. Darkness pressed hard against his eyes, and swirls of strange colors danced in front of him as his whole body strained against the lack of oxygen.

I need to breathe, he thought wildly, his whole body feeling like it was on fire. I can’t hold out much longer. His feet finally hit the mucky bottom with a thud, coming to a stop as the mud swirled around his legs.

There, hovering before him in the water, swam a beautiful woman with flowing golden hair…and a green fish tail that sparkled with golden flecks among the scales.

A mermaid.

Her big green eyes looked so familiar, like the ones he saw in the mirror every morning. She smiled at him, reaching out to take his hand. His head pounded as searing pain ripped through his throat, as if his entire body would tear apart any second from the effort of holding his breath.

The mermaid squeezed his hand and nodded. The pain receded as Shea stared into her eyes, lost in their green depths. As she nodded to him again, he opened his mouth to exhale the stale air that pounded like a jackhammer in his lungs. Large bubbles rushed to the surface as he struggled to breathe, but there was no air to be had. Only salty ocean water rushing in to fill his mouth, his lungs, his body...


Shea woke with a start, clawing at the sheets and disoriented for a full minute before remembering where he was. At the Hansen’s house. Because his own home – the farm where he’d lived and worked all his life – was gone, swept away and crushed by the freak tornado.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *
Thanks again, Penelope, for inviting me to visit! Readers, be sure to leave a comment below and enter the official Rafflecopter giveaway You could win an ebook copy of SON OF A MERMAID, or a cool beach stone mermaid necklace or other swag!

If you want to learn more about me and my mermaids, you can find us in the following spots online:

Follow the Blog – http://katieosullivan.blogspot.com
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/AuthorKatieOSullivan
Twitter - https://twitter.com/OkatieO
Check out the website at http://www.katie-osullivan.com
Add Son of a Mermaid on Goodreads: Son of a Mermaid

Amazon Buy Link: Son of a Mermaid
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Brand Names in a Novel--Yes or No?

Guess where I went? Guess what I ate? Those are easy questions.

Everything in our society is labeled. I am typing on a Mac computer. I am wearing Riders' jeans. I drive a Jeep. I have a Maytag oven.

Advertising is big business and companies dump tons of money into making their products a part of everyone's consciousness.

But I had to take all the brand names out of my book. My hero no longer has an iPhone. (Sniff.) It's not a big deal and I do understand. My publisher does not want to be sued.

Then I picked up Meg Cabot's Size 12 Is Not Fat. I love Meg Cabot's book. I haven't finished it yet, but so far she's mentioned several brand names such as Banana Republic, Fritos, and Jolly Ranchers. The use of those brand names makes the book seem all the more real. Her heroine is living in my society, where unique labels are plastered liberally on every item.

What's the difference between Meg Cabot's publisher and mine? Her book is published by Avon, which is an imprint of Harper Collins. I suspect that publisher has excellent lawyers and knows all the ins and outs of copyright law, because an author must be prudent.

Check out this post Can I Mention Brand Name Products in My Fiction?

Or even better (for romance writers) check out this post A Rose by ANY Other Name.

Not everything in Ms. Cabot's book bears a brand name. Her heroine works at a college in New York City that doesn't exist in real life--a wise choice considering the plot.

Even Meg Cabot has to be careful about some brand names. :-)

Chicken and Broccoli Casserole

I made this last night for supper. It is so yummy. I originally found the recipe in a cookbook (The Texas Experience) hubby brought back from one of his business trips many years ago. However, I usually alter things somewhat to suit my taste and this recipe was no exception.

2 large packages of frozen chopped broccoli (16 ounces each)
3 pounds chicken breasts, cooked and cut in bite-sized pieces
1 (10 3/4 ounce) can cream of chicken soup
1 (10 3/4 ounce) can cream of celery soup
1 cup mayonnaise
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon curry powder
2 cups grated Cheddar cheese
1 cup bread crumbs
2 tablespoons butter
Parmesan Cheese

Cook broccoli and drain. Arrange in a buttered 13x9 pan. Place chicken on top of broccoli. Combine soups, mayonnaise, lemon juice and curry powder. Pour over the chicken and sprinkle with Cheddar cheese. Combine bread crumbs and butter and sprinkle over all. Dust lightly with Parmesan cheese. Bake in a 350 degree over 25 to 30 minutes.

Serves 8.

(Hint: My sister buys already roasted chicken at the grocery store and uses that to make this casserole. I cook the chicken in a pan first, which takes a bit of extra time.)

Black and White Photography

Once upon a time, I took a photography course. I had a 35 mm SLR camera and I had to develop the black and white film. (This was long, long ago before the advent of digital photography.) The photo above is the one the professor liked. It shows my youngest sister in a window. The reflections made it really weird. Professors seem to like really strange stuff. I worked very hard in the development process, dodging the window sill because it was too light.

I found black and white photography difficult. My photos of flowers came out horrible. (I love flowers.) When I took pictures of people or landscapes, the photos were either too dark or too light, or there wasn't enough contrast. Or there was too much contrast.

Nevertheless, when the course was completed, I bought my own developing equipment. My darkroom was the bathroom in my parents' house. We had only one bathroom. I warned everyone before I did any developing, but invariably someone would decide they had to use the bathroom while I was trying to develop my pictures.

Eventually, I gave up black and white photography. I sold my developing equipment, but I kept the camera, bought color film, and paid for developing. It was worth it.

Hyphen Crazy

I am diligently combing through the third and final edit of Daddy Wanted. My Prism Book Group publisher has given me the date for the release of the book, June 19th. :^)

It seems with every book I've written I have either used one word too much or failed to remember some important grammatical point. In this book, it appears I went hyphen crazy. Yes, I put hyphens all over the place. Nonviolent became non-violent. Brokenhearted became broken-hearted. I should have checked the dictionary but with over 62,000 words in the book, those words looked good enough to me, which is why I know I need an editor. I can tell a story, but one very important part of storytelling is the details.

I must review the rules for hyphens. I will do that as soon as I send the edit back to my editor.

Have you ever put hyphens where they don't belong?

Ulysses, The Red-Eared Slider

This is Ulysses. He's a secondary character in Daddy Wanted.

Commonly known as a red-eared slider, Ulysses is a good listener. You can find out more about this turtle at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red-eared_slider

Red-eared sliders were common pets until the FDA banned the sale of the tiny turtles in 1975.

Did you ever have one of these as a pet?

Twitter Spring Cleaning

I have already written one post about Twitter. You can find that post here. This post is about keeping my Twitter account tidy. I have spent the last week or so--at odd moments--cleaning and organizing my Twitter account. This was a well-overdue project. There are websites that will manage Twitter accounts, but I decided to go it alone. I was raised in a do-it-yourself household and then went on to marry a do-it-yourself husband. I believe I can do it better myself.

Here and there as I went through my daily tweets I unfollowed people who were not following me. Many of them were rich and famous. It felt good somehow to hit that red UNFOLLOW button and remove the high and mighty from my feed. I have realized that there is no point in following famous people. If someone is following 14 people but has 50,000 people following them, they are famous. Why should they follow me? They probably only follow their siblings or perhaps their lawyer.

For the famous people, it is better to add them to a list. (Because, of course, I still want to read their tweets.) You do not have to follow somebody to move them into a list, but once they are on the list you set up you can read their tweets as your leisure. Your lists can be private or public.

Once I eliminated the famous people who don't follow me, I had more spaces for new people. Twitter will not allow anyone to follow more than 2,000 people until they get more than 2,000 people following them. I was stuck at around 1,600 followers for the longest time--until I decided to do something about it.

Now I have a very different Twitter feed. It's like a breath of fresh air--like opening the windows when the weather turns warm. :^)

I also discovered there were people following me who had not posted anything for three years or more. While it's nice to have a lot of followers, it's far better if they are chatty, live people. (It takes a great deal of skill to be chatty in 140 characters but there are those who do it well.) If someone has not posted in three years, I have to assume they passed away or gave up tweeting, in which case they should delete their account and try something else--like maybe Pinterest or Tumblr.

At any rate, I should have been cleaning out my account all along, but like everything else it was just going along and collecting dust bunnies. Now I feel so organized!

Have you checked your Twitter account lately?

Fashion Flashback, The Granny Dress

Once upon a time, the "Granny Dress" was the height of fashion. That's me in 1972 looking like I am ready for an afternoon tea party with a bunch of Victorians. Granny dresses were all the rage and I loved them. Most of the time I lived in my jeans--and I still do. However, it was nice to dress up for a few hours in ruffles. Sort of like going into a time machine, but only temporarily and while still having all the modern conveniences available. (I hopped into my Chevy Nova and drove off. I would not want to deal with a horse.)

I wish I had a photo of the pink gingham granny dress I made. I sewed that dress to wear for the special party the graduating class of 1971 (of what was then Jersey City State College) had on a Circle Line cruise around New York instead of a prom. On the boat I danced to the latest rock tunes in my granny dress.

My affinity for the style is even stranger when you consider that the dress code for women was only abolished a few years earlier. Until my sophomore year in college, all women were required to wear dresses to class--every day, all the time.

Styles come and go, but it is wonderful to have the freedom to choose what you want to wear.

Old Time Music

Here's hubby entertaining at Longstreet Farm in Holmdel Park. Since the house at Longstreet is from the Victorian era, hubby plays old time songs. There's an antique piano inside and he tickles the ivories of that instrument as well. However, the accordion is his favorite. When he sits on the porch in nice weather, he attracts a lot of attention. The accordion puts out a lot of volume (without amplification) for its relatively small size. Occasionally, children and adults come up and ask him what is the name of the instrument he is playing. Some people have never heard of or seen an accordion.

The accordion is a great instrument for ethnic music. You can find a history of the accordion here. It was very popular in this country in the 1950s. (Even I took accordion lessons briefly.) When Rock and Roll took over, the guitar became the instrument most young people wanted to play.

Hubby started accordion lessons when he was seven. Later, he took up the guitar, too, briefly. But he enjoys the versatility of the accordion.

I enjoy the old time songs. They are so sweet--all about love and romance--and I can understand every word! :^) Click on the link below to listen to one that hubby plays all the time.

What Would You Miss?

Last week, I received a contract for The Pirate's Wraith. I was thrilled! (I've mentioned the book several times on this blog, such as here, and here.)

The Pirate's Wraith is a time travel romance where a heroine from contemporary times winds up on a pirate ship in 1711. Unfortunately, she resembles the captain's dead wife and she is carrying the toy horse he carved for his son who passed away.

It was tough back in that century--no electricity and an appalling lack of knowledge when it came to disease. Despite a lack of caffeine, my heroine rises to the challenge.

So many luxuries we take for granted did not exist in the early part of the 1700s.

If you were thrown backward in time, what would you miss most of all?

A Little GIF for You

With the second round of edits out of the way, I am gearing up to promote Daddy Wanted. To me, promotion is more work than the actual writing of the book. However, I love little animated gifs. This one is currently destined for the Romance Junkies website, but it may wind up in other places as well. I spent a ridiculous amount of time making this--mostly because I haven't done it in a while so I forgot the procedure.

After I finished the gif, I went on to make an Advanced Reading Copy of Daddy Wanted so I can send it out to reviewers. (If you are a reviewer and enjoy sweet, contemporary romances without sex, let me know.)

I had postcards made and still have to send those out, too.

I'll be putting up an excerpt from the book here--and probably on my Facebook fan page as well. So much to do!

If You Only Have A Little Time to Read....

I am currently bogged down in the second round of edits for Daddy Wanted, which should be released sometime next month. (I can hardly wait!!!!) But in the meantime, the rest of you should be reading. Summer is coming with long, lazy days (I hope), where you can sit outside in the shade and devour lots and lots of books. So get your reading muscles in shape now and download some short, free stories.

Once upon a time, two people met--Luke and Rachel. You really should read about them--especially since you can do so for free. Prism Book Group has free short stories available at their website as well as at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. At 24 pages, Lightning Stikes is great for your lunch break. After the Storm, which comes in at 31 pages, is a sweet dessert. I helped to write the ending for After the Storm, so you really MUST read it.

Blizzard Wedding, part of the continuing saga of Luke and Rachel, will soon be available at Prism Book Group, too.

Get your reading muscles in shape now! You don't want to have a flabby brain when the warm weather hits. :^)

Transitions--Or How Did I Get Here?

I'm on the second round of editing Patriot's Heart, the book I finished during JeRoWriMo. On the first round I found plenty of glaring errors, but now I'm using a fine tooth comb--so to speak.

I've discovered some transition problems in my story. There are many ways to handle transitions, but each one must be clear.

I've found several blog posts with good advice:

http://menwithpens.ca/how-to-write-transition-scenes/

http://theeditorsblog.net/2010/12/16/mastering-scene-transitions/

There are many more blog posts on this topic for it is important. Transitions should be smooth and carry the story forward without boring the reader. The reader should know where the characters are and how much time has elapsed.

Writing a book is challenging! There are so many details to work out, but I have fun doing it.

My Job at the Glass Factory

Pictured above is a large lump of glass. I got it from the Midland Glass company where I worked two summers during my college years. The plant was located in the Cliffwood section of Aberdeen Township and employed many of the residents. You can read about the history of the plant HERE and HERE.

I considered myself fortunate to get the job because the wages were very good for a college student. I made about $1,000 each summer. (My salary for my first year as a teacher a few years later was $8,000.) I got triple time for working on the Fourth of July and overtime was usually available, too.

While many of our neighbors in Cliffwood Beach worked at the plant, only one was on the same shift as me. My family had only one car which my father needed to get to work, so I rode with our neighbor to work everyday.

The glass factory in the summertime was really hot. I swallowed salt pills so I wouldn't pass out from dehydration. There were fans here and there but they did not help. The noise level was horrendous. That is where I learned to yell, "Yo!"

I worked packing bottles into cartons on a line with two other women. I stood for most of the time although if I was lucky I got to sit at the light box and watch the bottles twirl by so I could spot bad ones and pull them out of the line.

There were a number of furnaces and each one produced millions of bottles. The bottles never stopped coming at us. If we didn't pack the bottles fast enough, the line would back up until the bottles started popping out. I got cut several times.

Sometimes, if a particular mold was bad, I had to run over to the lear, a huge metal link chain belt that brought the bottles from the furnace. I would pull out a whole row of that mold. Run back, pack bottles, and then run back to the lear to pull more of the bad bottles before we packed them.

Sometimes, the supervisor told us to look for a particular mold number on the bottom of the bottle and toss it out. When you're packing a gazillion bottles, it's hard to read mold numbers. We snatched up four bottles at a time, glanced at them and stuck them in the box. The supervisor would glare at us and tell us we were packing bad bottles.

No surprise there.

For me, the hardest thing about the job was the fact that we worked rotating shifts. We worked 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. one week. Then 4 p.m. to midnight the next week. Then came the midnight to 8 a.m. shift. Getting through that shift was a struggle. Some nights I found myself nodding off at the lightbox. One night, all the bottles twirled into dancing ladies with lovely long dresses. I nearly fell off the stool.

Working that shift messed up my entire body. I didn't know what meal I was eating and I wound up with strange cravings. I came home at 8 a.m. and gobbled down heaping bowls of instant mashed potatoes. I went to the pool, fell asleep, and wound up with a bad sunburn.

It was a terrific incentive to finish my education.

When we were cleaning out my parents' house to sell it, my sister brought the glass lump to me.

"Don't you want this?" she asked.

"What am I going to do with it?"

"Use it in the garden," she said.

Mostly I use it to hold down the tablecloth on the picnic table, but I'm glad my sister salvaged it before it wound up in the dumpster. It's a good souvenir of my job at the glass factory.

Win This Book!

There is ALWAYS a contest at my website. The two winners of the next contest will receive paper editions of The Company You Keep. This is my Fourth of July contest--so the winners will not be announced until July, which seems like a long time from now but it will go fast. So sign up today here: Contest.



There are some great reviews for this book at:

Novelspot (with the original cover)

Mindfog Reviews

Coffee Time Romance

Of course, if you cannot wait until July you can purchase the book at Amazon or Barnes & Noble (or Kobo, etc.)

The winners--as usual--will be announced in my fan newsletter in July. Good luck!

The Belford Special

Here's the Irish side of the family at one their summer bungalows in Belford, New Jersey. (There were two bungalows. This photo is probably from around 1930 or so.) My grandfather is the man who is standing up on the right, my grandmother is leaning forward over the table, and my father is that cocky kid at the end of the table smiling at the camera. From what I've been told the family spent summers in Belford every year when my father was young. They lived in Jersey City, but air conditioning had not been invented yet, so summers at the beach must have been far better than roasting on the sidewalks of the city.

One of the favorite dinners in Belford was what my father called, "The Belford Special"--meatballs in tomato sauce served over mashed potatoes. An odd combination but I guess it adequately fed the small Irish army sitting at the table. At my father's request, my mother frequently served The Belford Special at our home when we were growing up.

Many years ago, we picked up my father's cousin Rosemary and went looking for one of the bungalows because Dad did not remember where it was. We found the little house had been converted to a year round residence complete with a deck. It was nice to know it was still there.

I should go back and see how it fared Superstorm Sandy.

Book Dedications

I am still editing Patriot's Heart. I dropped one entire thread as I raced to finish the rough draft, so now I am weaving that thread through the book. However, I paused for a moment last night to consider the dedication. When I wrote Sea Of Hope, I completely neglected to include a dedication, but that was my first published book and everything about the publishing process was new to me.

Since then, I have given considerable thought to the dedications in the front of each book. To me, it's the best way for me to thank and honor those who have helped me on my writing journey. I admit that sometimes the seed of the idea for the book came from the honoree, but most often I just want them to know how much they've meant to me and enriched my life.

Heaven's Blue: For my cousin, Sandy Karchella, and all the other lost children. May the Lord find them and bring them home.

A Rush of Light: To my three daughters...
Let your light shine.


The Keeper's Promise: For Bobbie L.

Irons In The Fire: Dedicated to my parents who taught me all about the magic of love.

The Company You Keep: Dedicated to Rich, my very own hero.

The Beast of Blackbirch Manor: For Billy

The Fiend of White Buck Hall: For Jan

Kiss of Blarney: For Emily, my friend

Prince of the Mist: For Tommy, My Irish Grandfather--A True Leprechaun

Daddy Wanted: For A. Thanks for the inspiration.

Who would you dedicate a book to?

I Finished!

Yesterday I finished the JeRoWriMo challenge, the New Jersey Romance Writers' version of NaNoWriMo. I wrote a total of 30,148 words during the month of February. I actually wrote more than that since I deleted 800 words where I had written myself into a corner. On Wednesday, I came to the end of Patriot's Heart, but I I went right on to the sequel, Patriot's Pride.

Now I need to go back and edit. Once it's ready, I'll have to send the manuscript around and see if a publisher is willing to offer me a contract for it. It may be quite a while until it is up for sale. Nevertheless, I was thrilled to accomplish so much in just one month.

I did not come in first among the other writers in the group. There were many who surpassed me, but it did help to have a cheering squad. My thanks to Nancy Herkness for setting the challenge up. It was great!

Required Reading for All

In yesterday's New York Times I saw an article "On Keeping On," by Bill Keller, an op-ed columnist. He wrote about a book of poems Taps on the Walls: Poems From the Hanoi Hilton by John Borling who was a prisoner of war for six and a half years in the infamous North Vietnamese prisoner of war camp known as the Hanoi Hilton. With no pencil and no paper, John Borling found a way to keep his mind active and entertain his fellow prisoners using a code. He tapped out poems and messages. He memorized the poems and when he was finally freed, he recorded them.

Now, forty years later, the poems have been compiled into a book. Late last night, I downloaded the book--and then I could not get to sleep. The poems are haunting and proof of the incredible strength of the human spirit.

Read them.

A Kiss--from HEAVEN'S BLUE

Here's another Valentine treat--a kiss from HEAVEN'S BLUE, my other EPPIE Award-Winning inspirational romance. Enjoy!

He touched her shoulder as she stood grinning up at him,
and strands of her honey-colored hair fell across his knuckles.
He wondered how many nights Samantha had fallen asleep
next to the microscope. How many lonely evenings had she
spent in this god-forsaken wasteland when she had all the
sweet goodness of the sunshine glowing from within her?

His hand went from her shoulder to cup her chin. Her
tender lips drew him, and before he realized it, he tasted her
and found the warmth of the sun along with the nectar of
summer wildflowers in her kiss. Somehow, he had known it
would be special, like her. He had never met a woman quite
as unique as Samantha Lyons.

He came to his senses when a stray mosquito landed on
him, intent on drawing blood. As he slapped the annoying
bug, he drew back and saw shock engraved on Samantha's
face. A flaming blush blooming on her cheeks made her only
lovelier, and he bent towards her again.

“N-no!” she sputtered. “No! I—I...”

Then she rushed out the door and hurried across the yard.

David watched her enter the cottage. He frowned as his
mouth turned as dry as all those grains of sand on the beach.
Realization slammed into him like a direct hit on the solar
plexus. He swept his hand over his face. In a moment of
weakness, he had let his guard down. Would Samantha
dismiss him as coldly as she had the unfortunate Ginger?

He had to stay here! Right now everything hung in the
balance, and he had to keep James safe. Nothing mattered
more than that.

...self-control.

David ran his hand through his hair and paced the floor.
How could he have done this? His shoulders drooped as he
reasoned that any man would have attempted the same
thing. She had looked so luscious, like a peach ripe for the
harvest. He licked his lips and still tasted her flavor there.

A dull ache, like that from an old wound, gnawed at him.
How could he have forgotten that he wasn't just any man?
Right now, he was a criminal. Samantha had only to pick up
the phone and call the nearest police station.

Bleakly, he knew the truth was that he had been a little
bored after one week and went asking for trouble.
Furthermore, he had gotten it, risking his own son's future.
What kind of father was he? Would he never learn?

Find it at Amazon--click HERE!