Blog Archives

My Excellent New Adventure in Publishing…with BOLDWOOD Books

I’m so excited to part of the Boldwood Books Author list

It’s so exciting to be a part of this new adventure.

So hold tight and I’ll give you all the fab details.

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Boldwood Books is a fab publisher in London.

Here’s the scoop about Boldwood Books with all their wonderful authors…including me!

Amazing…

 

My first book with Boldwood is a WW 2 Christmas story about love lost and time travel…what if you could go back in time and save the man you love from being killed on a secret mission in France?

My heroine, Kate Arden, gets that chance.’

Check back for updates — and also, I’ll be talking more about Boldwood and their authors. First book releases are in August 2019

My Excellent New Adventure in Publishing…we’re almost there!

On Tuesday, June 18, 2019 all will be revealed.

And yes, it’s exciting to be a part of this new adventure.

So hold tight and I’ll see you soon with all the fab details.

Countdown to My Excellent New Adventure in Publishing…

Yes, I’ve been posting on Instagram about my new publishing adventure — and I can’t reveal all yet.

But soon!!

On Tuesday, June 18, 2019 all will be revealed.

I’ve been busy making a short video for the publisher’s website using my phone…and putting together pretty graphics…and edits on the m/s are coming…well, you know the drill. And yes, it’s exciting to be a part of this new adventure.

So hold tight and I’ll see you soon with all the fab details.

Come back on Tuesday, June 18, 2019 for my exciting news!! It’s amazing…

 

Wistfully waiting…and why I’m so excited about a new project

Catch up with me re: my Instagram videos…and yes, I’m waiting to receive a signed contract from a fabulous publisher. I’ll be checking back very soon with the news when I can share…

Why am I so excited?

This is an amazing opportunity to see my Women’s Fiction novel about family, love and loss, and going home again…

So, till I can share:

A Trip down Memory Lane on Independent Bookstore Day

The store opened in 1934

Come with me on a trip down memory lane for Independent Bookstore Day to a fave bookstore in Long Beach, CA that closed a while back.

I shot this video before Acres of Books closed and couldn’t resist pulling it out for a bit of nostalgia remembering all the great indie bookstores.

I loved this used bookstore — and it was very organized. They used to give you a flashlight if you needed it for the back rooms since it was often dark in the smaller rooms. And they had a fabulous collection of old sheet music — I bought lots for my piano!

Do you have any fave indie bookstores?

Check out my video:

Meet the Princess and the Stilettos for Valentine’s Day and “Virgin Kiss” short story

Valentine’s Day is here!

This is one of my favorite videos I made about princesses:

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And here is VIRGIN KISS

I wrote this fun short story about a high school freshman and her first kiss disaster — here’a preview of Virgin Kiss:

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Riley Murphy is a kissing virgin, waiting for the right guy to come along. Until she joins the Drama Club at Holywell High and has to kiss the class dweeb on stage in front of the whole school on Valentine’s Day.
Virgin Kiss is a short story

What’s in a kiss? A kiss by any other name is—

—sweet, romantic, intimate, passionate, wet, sloppy, disgusting, probing, awful, nasty, sexy, tingly, and sometimes just plain wonderful.

But what if it’s your first kiss? And what if you have to pucker up in front of a live audience? What then?

Pass the Altoids, please.

The kiss-from-hell happened to me, Riley Murphy. Let me set the stage for you.

I was the new kid at Holywell High School, a shy, skinny freshman with cinnamon-colored freckles sprinkled across my nose. And flat-chested. Not exactly Miss Popularity with the bouncy boobs and flirty lashes. More like an olive stuck on the end of a toothpick.

Even with that dossier, I wasn’t a total dork. I’d gotten pecks on the cheek with quick brushes on the lips, but I’d yet to experience the soul-melting kisses you see in the flicks. The passionate lip-lock I dreamed about, wrote about in my diary. I pined for that kiss, but it didn’t happen. No doubt I’d be in graduate school facing lifelong debt before the right pair of lips met mine.

To overcome my shyness, my mom convinced me to try out for the Drama Club. Somehow I landed the leading role in a one-act Chekhov play. Yes, Chekhov. I played this mad, beautiful countess with passion and heart. I loved it. I came alive on stage. I could do anything, be anybody, say anything, I could—

—kiss the male lead?

A gangly sophomore named Harold Brimwell with long greasy hair and an upper lip curled in a perpetual snarl? He was going to anoint my virgin lips with my first big kiss?

Forget the Altoids. I needed a stress pill.

I quit the play. They could find another dupe. Not me. I wasn’t going to let him use my lips for kissing practice.

Then I heard this little voice in my head telling me this was acting, right? Going through the motions at rehearsals and on stage didn’t count on the kissing scale. I could pucker up with him and still be a kissing virgin.

After that, I sailed through rehearsals, knowing my lines, and “connecting to my character,” according to the director, who insisted on method acting. That’s how the trouble started. We didn’t rehearse the kiss. He wanted a real kiss on stage, he said, not some phony smooch.

I panicked. This was not what I’d planned. Worse yet, we opened on Valentine’s Day with a preview performance at the afternoon school assembly. Not only did I have to kiss this guy, I had to do it on the most romantic day of the year in front of the entire student body.

I dumped the Altoids down the toilet.

Valentine’s Day dawned rainy and cold. Perfect weather for a Russian play.

I arrived at the gym early, put on my makeup in the girls’ bathroom, then hooked up my long Victorian black lace dress, the silk petticoats rustling around my feet. I checked my props, including a dainty parasol, dueling gloves, and a small pistol. I saved putting on my lipstick for last. It had to be perfect.

First, I gargled mint-flavored mouthwash until my lips turned green and my mouth went numb. Next, I lined my lips with Chekhovian dark red lipstick and smacked my lips together. Perfect. I was ready for my lip close-up.

It’s showtime.

I was nervous when the lights came up, but after the first few minutes I relaxed. My training took over and I was “in the moment.” The dueling scene went off without the pistols misfiring and that meant it was time for…

the kiss.

My co-star walked toward me with that “I’ve got you now” look fired up in his eyes, his lower lip snarling. I freaked. My stomach did flip-flops. My teeth chattered. My mouthwash stopped working.

It was so quiet in the high school gym you could hear the director chewing on the end of his pencil. My heart pounded as I held my breath when he pulled me into his arms and—

—slammed his mouth into mine. Bile rose in my throat as he pushed my lips apart and thrust his mushy, saliva-coated gum into my mouth, making me nauseous. Then he shoved his tongue down my throat, nearly gagging me. I started choking.

I can’t breathe. I thought I was going to pass out, but I was determined not to faint. I had to get him off me.

With stars circling my pounding head, I pulled up my strength and kicked him in the shin. Startled, he jerked backward, but not before he bit my lower lip. I tasted blood, but it wasn’t over.

He held me tighter, slobbering all over me, licking my face, my throat, coating my skin with stringy gum. The audience went crazy, yelling and shouting like they were at a basketball game and I was the bouncing ball.

I had to do something. Fast.

The pistol.

I panicked. Where was it? After the mock dueling scene, I threw the prop gun down on the round table. It had to be there, but where?

I reached out behind me, my nails catching on the lace doily, edging the gun toward me, an inch at a time. Sweat oozed down my too-tight collar and my knees started to buckle, but I didn’t give up. I couldn’t let him take advantage of me.

Almost got it…there. My fingers wrapped around the pearl-inlayed handle. Without losing my nerve, I grabbed the pistol and jammed the prop into his ribs. Hard. I yanked my body with such fury, I ripped the black lace sleeve out of the armpit. It slid down my shoulder, but that didn’t stop me.

“Get your hands off me, you sloppy kissing, gum-chewer!” I yelled, ignoring the script and re-writing Chekhov. “Or I’ll plug you.”

The director gasped. Loudly.

“Yeah, sure,” Harold stuttered, letting me go, and then backing away. “Anything you say.”

“That’s telling him!” someone yelled from the audience.

Amy Zanderbar. His ex-girlfriend.

Seems I hit a nerve with the females sitting in the bleachers who’d had their share of bad kissers. They loved it. The audience started clapping wildly and stomping their feet, shouting for me to let him have it.

I was tempted to push him off the stage and give them what they wanted, but my thespian instincts kicked in and I got back into character, giving Chekhov his due and ending the play as he’d written it.

The poor darling. I’m certain he had a restless sleep in his grave that night.

We performed the one-act play for the next few nights without further incident, faking the kiss each time. My co-star was cool, not attempting any more way-out kissing. For me, it was strictly acting. As far as I was concerned, I was still a virgin in lip-land.

I haven’t forgotten that V-Day and my experience with the gum-toting, kissing bandit. Not a bad guy, just a rotten kisser.

And in case you’re curious, as time went by, I did find the right pair of lips to land that first kiss. A hottie senior. Jack Dayne. Sexy and perfect.

And when I did, I discovered a kiss isn’t just a kiss, it’s…

magic.

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PS — yes, Riley is me, a shy freshman back in the day.

I still remember the black-beaded Victorian dress I wore when I performed the part of Elena.

My High School Kissing Disaster on Valentine’s Day

What if your first kiss, and I mean your Virgin Kiss was just plain awful?

Meet Riley Murphy — you won’t believe her high school kissing disaster in Virgin Kiss

A very short kissing story I wrote.

I bet we all remember teenage angst…there’s nothing more angsty (if there is such a word) than that first kiss. Even worse is when it’s not your dream guy.

It’s the guy in the school play.

And boy, does he have ‘tude. Like, power play to the max.

Riley almost lets him get the best of her, then she does something that empowers her in front of the whole school. Find out what that is in Virgin Kiss. I’ll post the short story in its entirety on Valentine’s Day!

Or: you can watch it on my Instagram Page in Parts — up to Part 8 today.  

I wrote this before the #MeToo movement, but it was never more true today as the heroine fights back against this snarky guy in a funny and humorous way. And with a Chekhov play, too!

PS — I still remember the black-beaded Victorian dress I wore when I performed the part of Elena. Yes, Riley is me.

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Riley Murphy is a kissing virgin, waiting for the right guy to come along. Until she joins the Drama Club at Holywell High and has to kiss the class dweeb on stage in front of the whole school on Valentine’s Day.
Virgin Kiss is a short story

 

Photo and Music Credits:
Photos: http://www.Dreamstime.com
Music: Sweeter Vermouth Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)

 

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Valentine’s Day “Virgin Kiss” preview on Instagram

Valentine’s Day is coming!!

I wrote this fun short story about a high school freshman and her first kiss disaster — here’a preview of Virgin Kiss:

Riley Murphy is a kissing virgin, waiting for the right guy to come along. Until she joins the Drama Club at Holywell High and has to kiss the class dweeb on stage in front of the whole school on Valentine’s Day.
Virgin Kiss is a short story

Photos: http://www.Dreamstime.com
Music: Sweeter Vermouth Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)

And here is Part 1:

View this post on Instagram

Virgin Kiss Part 1 #Valentine

A post shared by Jina Bacarr (@jinabacarr) on

A Purple Dragon, a Princess, and a fairy tale ending . . .

I love dragons. Pink, blue, green, purple like our friend here. Our princess is reading a fairy tale to him. Hmm. Once upon a time there was a dragon who was in love with a princess. I wonder what happens . . .

Does he turn into a prince?

If frogs can do it, why not a dragon?

 

I have no doubt our purple dragon turns into a prince…how about you?

Catching up with my Vision Board 2019 and Making Dreams Come True

I’m honored that Joyce Schwarz invited me to part of her Vision Board book. Check out my Instagram video for more info and here’s a preview of her book:

and ————

Here’s my Instagram video for Make Your Dream Come True Day — check out the fun pix I added to the graphic. Love the one with me and the crystal ball.

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