In the Author Spotlight
Catherine Wade

AL: Hi Catherine Thanks for being in the “Author Spotlight” this  week.

Catherine: Thanks for having me, Ann!

AL: So, tell us what’s happening with you.

Catherine: Well, it’s the beginning of the new school year here, and my day job has started in full swing for the year (I write educational psychological evaluations by day, fiction by night). I also have two of my three kids in middle school this year. God help me, teenagers!!

AL: Tell us about your upcoming release?

Catherine: The idea for Another Time Around came to me one night in the shower (where else is better for getting ideas?), and I wondered how a widow would react if her late husband came to haunt her just as she’s about to move on with another man. Then I added a stalker, a screwy mother-in-law, and a crazy assistant, and I knew I had a book.

AL: You and I have a lot in common. I did vocals music (first soprano pull me from the rafters), drama and taught drama for a couple years at a Junior High in Omaha, I did the whole debate scene as well, but since this isn’t about me…what got you diving into the art of writing?

Catherine: I sing first soprano, too. First note I ever sang on stage was a high A. As for writing, I’ve done it since I was a teenager when I wanted to write my own character into a TV show I loved. Didn’t realize until years later that I was writing fan fiction. After filling a couple notebooks, Mom gave me her old Royal manual typewriter, and I wrote everything from historical fiction to science fiction to my own version of Anne of Green Gables. None of it was worth the paper it was written on, but I learned a lot about the craft and found out it was great fun to create my own worlds. I took several years off (went to college, got a job, had kids, yada yada) but always had something going through my head. Didn’t realize most people don’t think in narratives. One day I had an idea that made me want to put pen to paper again, so to speak, and a novel was born.

AL: What do you hope for your writing career in the next few years? Any goals that you have yet to obtain that you have set for yourself?

Catherine: Between jobs and kids, I just hope to have a writing career over the next few years! Kidding. I am currently working on a contemporary romance about a not-so-happily married veterinarian whose ex-fiance shows up dating her best friend, and hope to write a new paranormal about a psychic who gets mixed up in the murder of a cop. I’d like to submit both to an agent by spring.

AL: What do you feel is the most important thing that a first-time author should know?

Catherine: It’s so cliché, but it’s so true: just do it. Keep writing, keep learning, and, most importantly, keep submitting to agents and editors. For one, it’s an amazing learning experience and you can get valuable feedback on your work, but it’s also a bit of a crap shoot getting the right manuscript in front of the right editor or agent. Everyone has different tastes, and it’s no different with the pros. I think the hardest part of this business is to keep going when you’ve had a mailbox full of rejections, but it’s also the most necessary part.

AL: Let’s get comfy and dig in deep, Catherine. What's your favorite type of music?

Catherine: That’s like asking me what kind of ice cream I like – aren’t they all good? Honestly, it depends on my mood. My collection includes Queen, ACDC, Barry Manilow (yes, I do loves me some Barry) and opera and classical, too. I love musicals, and have a little bit of an unnatural obsession with the Mama Mia soundtrack right now.

AL: If you had to write yourself as a heroine, what kind of heroine would you be? What would you be named?

Catherine: To be brutally honest, I think all writers take parts of themselves to use in their heroines. Maggie in Let’s Dish was like me in ways, and so is Brin in Another Time Around. If I could write myself as a character, though, I think I’d like to be a kick-ass bounty hunter or a vampire killer.

AL: Now, tell us about your hero that plays opposite you…

Catherine: I don’t care as long as he’s Colin Firth. Or Jeff Goldblum.

AL: When you have time just for you (if only) what do you do?

Catherine: I should say something very high-brow here, shouldn’t I? Like racing polo ponies or something. Honestly, though, I think the answer is sleep. With three boys, you don’t get a lot. If I’m lucky enough to be rested, I read, watch shows on the BBC, and spend far too much time playing games on Facebook.

AL: Please share a favorite quote(s) with us.

Catherine: “A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.” Richard Bach

AL: Thanks so much for sharing with joining us this week, Catherine.

Catherine: My pleasure, Ann. You didn’t make this easy on me. Made me think.

AL: If you’d like to find out more about Catherine please visit:

http://www.catherinewade.com

FEATURED TITLE: Another Time Around

Blurb:

Brin Maxwell once lived the ultimate rock-n-roll fantasy as the wife of the frontman for Hell’s Fury. It all ended in a flash—literally—with a lightning bolt that took Max’s life and left hers in suspended animation.


Two years later she’s ready to move on, but there’s a stumbling block: her sanity. Max’s ghost has decided to haunt her, and he’s got a bad habit of showing up at the most inconvenient moments. Like when she’s about to plant a long wet one on event planner David Lyle, the man she hopes will resurrect her love life.

David is real, solid, and makes her heart do the tango. He’s also curiously inept at his job—yet he has certain other talents that leave her wondering just what he’s hiding in his shadowy past.

Then there are the death threats. As they escalate from notes slipped under her door to full-scale, Kodak-moment terror, Brin realizes Max’s return is no coincidence. And that the only one she can turn to is David.

The man with the skills to save her life—unless he’s there to take it…

Excerpt:

She made her way across the generous space, ending up where the high ceiling gave way to the loft. She could only assume she was directly under his bedroom, but refused to let her mind wander further than that. In front of her were two doors beside one another. She looked back at David for guidance, but he was busy clearing the table. Taking a chance, she picked the door on the right.


When she entered the room, she searched for the light switch. She flipped it on, and was bathed in a glowing red light. Adjusting her eyes, she looked around to find photographs hanging from wires strung like clotheslines across the room. Some photos were of people, some of places and buildings. All seemed very artistic, though she’d be the first to admit she knew nothing about art.

A framed picture hung on the far wall drew her attention. It grabbed her and made her step closer and closer until she was standing right at the base of it. It was a close-up of a woman’s jawline, warm and dewy and glowing red in the light from the bare bulb that swung above it. Her lips were full and wet, barely parted to reveal a row of sparkling teeth. Though she couldn’t see her entire face, Brin could tell she was an extremely beautiful woman.

“You found Claudia.”

Brin jumped, startled by David’s entrance. “I’m sorry. I must have taken a wrong turn.”

“Quite all right. Easy to do.”

She pointed around the room. “I take it you’re a photographer.”

“Picked up the hobby at the academy. When we were training in forensic photography.”

“I take it you never went digital.”

David shook his head. “Nah. Film is much more vibrant to me. More personal.” He stepped up behind her to look at the photograph. “I took that while we were on vacation in Cabo.”

“Who is she?”

David grew very still. “Claudia Moran. She was my partner on the force in Virginia. The one I was telling you about.”

Brin’s mouth went dry. “Oh God. I’m sorry. I had no idea your partner was a woman.” She looked at the photograph again and noticed the raw emotion of it. “Were you…involved with her?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even bother to hedge. “We were very much in love once.”

“But this picture…” She turned back to it and saw it with a new appreciation. “You keep this picture up to remind you of her.”

He shook his head, moving between Brin and the photograph. “No. I keep it around to show me that I have a talent for art. To remind me that there are other things in life besides waste and crime and ugliness. I keep it because it stirs something in me and because it’s hard in my line of work to remember that I have an emotion other than disgust.”

Brin swallowed hard. She hadn’t seen this side of David before, and part of her wanted to turn around and run out of the place as fast as she could. But she was frozen to the spot. Only frozen wasn’t the word that was coming to her mind. It was heat. Blazing heat.

“Disgust?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper. “Planning parties?”

David’s eyes shifted suddenly. A smile came to his face, but Brin knew it was forced. And it made her heart pound.

“I simply meant the extravagance of it. Rich people will throw money at a cause, but it has to make them look good. They want their names on plaques acknowledging their supposed generosity. They don’t want to help. They want to be looked upon as benefactors.”

Brin had to swallow again. “Not all of them—us—are like that.”

David’s gaze fell, but it didn’t seem to break the tension. “No, you’re not. That’s not what I meant.” He brought his eyes to catch hers in a relentless hold. She just stared back, unable to even blink. “You’re different, aren’t you? You’re soft around the edges. Caring. You have a passion in your soul, but it seems to be dying.”

He reached up and brushed her cheek with his rough palm, making her shiver. The chill ran down her spine and up again, and her knees went weak. Parts of her she’d thought would never stir again went wild as his hand wound in her hair. Soon his lips were millimeters away from hers.

“Why is that fire dying, Brin? What could put a damper on that passion? And what could fuel it?”

Her eyes closed, but she had no control over her own body anymore. She was completely on autopilot. Baser instincts had taken over, and she was at his mercy now. She’d only felt like this once before in her life. Only Max could make her lose control.

Only Max.

She pulled back. “I’m sorry. I need to use the bathroom.”