Cindy is here today as part of her Goddess Fish Promotions tour to celebrate the release of her romantic comedy, "All the Good Men". Not only will you be entertained, but if you comment you'll be entered to win a signed print copy of her book and a branded "Fiction for the Bad Girl in Every Woman" book bag!
Now ... here's Cindy!
Tell me five things I probably don’t know about you and that most folks wouldn’t guess.
I almost always have a song playing in my head which supposedly is a symptom of manic depressive disorder. Yikes! I'm not sure that's the case with me. I like to think of it as my own little psychic phenomenon. Many times, when I turn on the radio, the song in my head matches the current song playing. Wacky, right?
I'm a big NFL fan, but not because I have a particular affection for the game. Don't get me wrong, I like football, but what I like more is potential to construct a weekly party around the event. Food, drink, and pageantry. Not to mention all the young men in oh-so-tight football pants. Plus, it's a chance for the BF and I to bond. There's really no down side to it, lol.
I'm actually really shy which I suppose is why I'm a writer as opposed to an actress or singer. Well, I can't really carry a tune, but even if I could, I don't think I'd seek out the spotlight. I'm perfectly happy behind the scenes. A lot of people are surprised by this aspect of my personality because I'm very friendly and outgoing, but social situations exhaust me. I'm told that means I'm an introvert. Who knew?
I'm most comfortable when I'm in the water. I grew up in places with the most magnificent beaches: Hawaii, Jamaica and Florida to name a few. I can't remember a time that I couldn't swim and didn't love to explore the ocean. For me, water equals peace.
If plants had post offices, my picture would be hanging there as one of the ten most wanted for 1st degree herbicide. I love flowers, herbs and homegrown veggies, but I'm an the worst gardener ever. I can follow plant care recommendations to a tee and still poor things die. I suppose if some folks have 'green thumbs', there must be those of us with 'brown thumbs.' That's me. Brown Thumb Jacks, lol.
Fill In the Blank(s): If I could have any superpower, it would be ______________
If I could have any superpower, it would be x-ray vision because I could see any guy I want naked and it would safe a fortune in healthcare co-pays! :D
Write me a paragraph using the following three words: CABIN, EARPHONES, DIARY
Ana blocked out all distractions with a pair of earphones, playing soft, romantic music. Not that there were many distractions to block out. She loved her Smith Mountain Lake cabin for just this reason. Complete and total solitude in which to contemplate the events of the past month. She'd sat down to make her daily diary entry, to try to make sense of the affection growing inside her. Instead, she drew hearts and flowers like a lovesick teenager. Perhaps the silly doodles said more about her emotional state than any amount of words could.
Any brief news you’d like to share?
In addition to All the Good Men with Moongypsy press, I have another new release, writing as CJ Elliott, titled Hour of the Wolf. Check it out at Cobblestone Press.
You can find Cindy here: http://cindyjacks.com/
Now... take a look at her cool video for the book! I had to share because ... well.. I made it :-)
And here's a taste of the book for you:
Dahlia is sure the hackneyed platitude is true: After a certain age, all the good men are married or gay. She feels her thirty-eight years put her well past that 'certain age.' Her best friend and her sisters dare her to put her fate where her mouth is. The terms of the challenge? During the month of October, she has to end her five-year-long man fast and go on dates with men of their choosing. Oh, and she also has to go out with anyone else who asks.
As the date disasters pile up, the vindication almost makes the torturous evenings bearable for Dahlia. But a handsome new neighbor, Jackson Carmichael, moves in, changing the rules of the game. Retired after twenty-six years as a pro firefighter in Boston, he volunteers with the local fire department, coaches a youth hockey team, and appears for all the world to be the perfect man. He just might throw a wrench into Dahlia's plan to die lonely and single...that is if she doesn't scare him away first.
Skipper's, McGrady's, the Dew Drop Inn. Dahlia didn’t find her father at any of his regular hangouts. As a last ditch effort, she drove home, hoping to find him there. No such luck.
She called Beck. “Hi, it’s Dahlia. I haven’t found him, but if for some reason he turns up at the VFW, please give me a call.”
“Will do, ma’am. Again, I can’t tell you how sorry I am he got away from me.”
“No, no. It’s not your fault. I felt like I should’ve stayed home with him, but with all the orders at work—” The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. “Beck, there’s someone here. I’ll call you back.”
As she clamped the cell phone shut its hinge snarled in a lock of hair. Dahli tugged at the accursed thing as she trotted to the front door. When she opened it, Dahlia abandoned her efforts to disentangle the phone. There stood her father, soaking wet, draped against the shoulder of a man she’d never seen before.
“Hi.” The stranger flashed an apologetic smile. “Does he belong to you? I feel like I've seen him pruning the hedges out front.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Perhaps if she blocked out the image of her piss-drunk father long enough, he might disappear. Opening one eye she found she’d had no such luck.
“Yes, I’m so sorry. Where did he wind up, Mr…?”
“Carmichael. Jackson Carmichael. I found him floating in my koi pond.”
“Oh, good Lord. I’m really sorry. We’ll pay for any damages.” Dahlia reached for her dad, but Jackson scooped up the old man using a fireman’s carry.
“Not to worry. I’m just glad I found him when I did. Is it okay to set him on the couch?”
“Please. I’ll get some towels.” She hurried from the room if only to hide her flaming embarrassment. Upon return, she made a vain attempt to blot up the water that pooled around the passed out lump she usually called Dad.
“Thank you, Mr. Carmichael. I can’t apologize enough. Daddy’s a bit of a handful.”
“No apology necessary, but may I…?” He reached out a hand.
“Of course.” Dahli thrust a dry towel at him.
“No, no. I meant—” Jackson made a gentle twist and tug that freed the forgotten cell phone from her hair. “There you go.”
“Christ almighty. Lovely first impression I’ve made,” she said and shoved the phone in her pocket.
“Nah, no biggie.” He stripped off his shirt and dried himself. “I meant to come by to introduce myself a couple days ago, but I’ve been swamped trying to get settled.”
Though a half naked man in her living room—and a rather physically fit one at that—was a rare occurrence, Dahlia did her best to avert her eyes. “I’m sure Daddy and I have made you want to run for the hills.”
“Not at all, Ms…?”
“Foster, but please, anyone who finds my father in his fishpond can call me Dahli.”
“A pleasure,” he said and handed her the towel. “Thanks.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“I’d love something, but I have to get back. Rain check?”
“Sure. Come by anytime.” But I won’t hold my breath...not that I blame you, she added silently. Dahli walked him to the front door, thanking him again. After closing the door behind Mr. Carmichael, she plodded into the living room to check on her father.
“Daddy,” she said to deaf ears and sank into the loveseat. “What am I going to do with you?”
2 hours ago