I’m so happy to welcome Andi Ramos as our guest blogger. Andi’s new (first!) book has just been released, Gumshoe Girl.
As far back as I remember I would make up scenes with fictitious characters. Sometimes I would jot them down, but I never took them seriously, I would collect them, but they would always end up in the circular file. Gasp!
I never did anything with my writing until I started Gumshoe Girl, my debut novel that was just released May 30th. I had this involved story running through my brain. It didn’t stop at a scene, it just kept going, so I went with it. I finally compiled all the scenes together into a short draft to see what I had. Holy mackerel! Before I knew it, I had over 30,000 words. Writing wasn’t something I could ignore anymore. I made a decision to finish the story. Well, I no longer waste the story ideas come to me. I cultivate them to see if they are substantial enough to work with.
About My Heroine:
Sheagan O’Hare is the main character in my debut novel, Gumshoe Girl. She is 27 years old and hasn’t quite figured out how to be successful in life. However, she realized with the recent death of her father and catching her boyfriend cheating on her that she had better figure things out quick. She recently took over Diamond Detective Agency, her family business. 
She never expected to be in this situation, so doesn’t know anything about being a detective or solving cases. She’s not going to let that deter her, especially after landing her first big client and a missing persons case. She tries her best to hang with the pros. Problem is, she’s got this annoying and unfortunately extremely attractive FBI agent that keeps reminding her of her amateur status. She’s not looking for a new love, but she runs into a guy from her past that is trying to change her mind. And, well I mentioned the hot agent…so I’m not sure her heart is going to listen to her head. She’s got to learn to trust her instincts in order to succeed, but will she be able to do that before someone gets hurt?
Excerpt:
She wasn’t there to kill him, even though the thought had crossed her mind; no, she was there to catch him in the act. She suspected he had been cheating on her for some time, so proof would end her suspicion or the relationship. Spying on her significant other through an air-vent of a swanky hotel room was hardly a promising start to her so-called glamorous career as a private detective. But it snapped her back into the reality that her new chosen profession would often be messy and difficult.
She peered through the grate and envied the spacious room below, but her viewing angle was no good for the task at hand. She could feel the heat in her cheeks rise along with her anger as she scanned the room and soaked in the extravagance–the hardwood tables, the Italian marble fireplace, the opulent sheen of the fabric on the overstuffed furniture that glimmered in the soft candlelight. The Rat Bastard was not known to overindulge on frivolous expenses, unless it was on her dime. Thoughts of killing him resurfaced.
What is wrong with me? Why did I wait so long?
She immediately regretted the fleeting question. She knew why. The answer brought back the pain and significance of her father’s sudden death. He had been the only family she had left, and he was gone. All that was left behind was his detective agency. She had thought about giving it up, but she couldn’t; it was her only connection to him, to her family.
She closed her eyes briefly, realizing that now she was facing more loss–even if he was a lying, cheating Rat Bastard.
No! It’s better this way, stay focused.
She choked in a breath and turned her attention back to the room. His secret love nest was finished with soothing tones on the walls and thick, plush carpeting.
What is that on the end table?
Her gaze was drawn to the bottle label as it bobbed upside down in the melting ice. She sharpened the focus of her binoculars, and her eyes widened in recognition.
Her cheeks flushed. Cristal, she scoffed. Who is this Bimbo, anyway?
As if she had room to criticize this girl’s intelligence, when Sheagan was the one sweating her makeup off in a four-by-four-foot air-duct.
Yeah, who’s the stupid one?
She heard passionate sounds coming from the right of the room and recognized his tone. Leaning sideways, Sheagan pressed her face to the grate, but her limited view revealed only a portion of the bed and unable to make out major details, like faces.
Crap, I can’t see anything.
Damn! She needed to get a better look.
As she shifted her weight, the metal walls started to reverberate and Sheagan stifled a gasp, willing the rumbling to cease. Her breathing became labored as the musty air stole the aroma of the sweet perfume wafting up from the suite below. She stilled her movements and did the only thing she could think of… nothing. Nothing but stare at the heap of blankets and wait.
Come on, bimbo, come up for air. I know he doesn’t last that long.
Her discomfort increased as the noise from their passion became more intense. Ugh, that’s it, I’ve had it!
She mashed her cheek and upper body against the grate.
I just need a peek to confirm.
She pressed harder, ogling the bed. Finally, she caught a tiny glimpse.
Just a little further.
She pushed and heard a chirring sound, then a scraping. She froze in place, but the grate gave way with a creaking groan and crashed to the ground. Time stood still as Sheagan realized there was nothing between her and the floor except air.
Buy Links:
Amazon US
Apple
Smashwords
Kobo
Barnes & Noble
Author Bio:
Andi Ramos is a debut author from central Massachusetts where she lives with her family, goat, and Boston Terriers. Her love for reading grew into a passion for writing. She dabbled with pen and paper for a long time and eventually stopped pushing her amusements aside and started developing those stories into novels. One of her favorite things to do is to hop into her motorhome with her family and write while traveling down the road as they journey to various destinations.
Website
Blog
Facebook
Twitter
The South was well-known for having girls’ schools and boys’ schools, and never the twain shall meet. During my day, UVA was all male except for certain disciplines in junior and senior years. (This changed during my junior year when the twains did meet and UVA became co-ed, at which time Mary Washington became simply Mary Washington College.) I didn’t know where Fredericksburg was in relation to where Jack might end up going to school, but at least I would be back in Virginia—if I was accepted. And, thankfully, I was.
My trip north to sleepy Fredericksburg allowed me to meet people that have continued to touch my life, gave me my first taste of independence, and introduced me other adventures I’d have missed had I taken the easy route of staying in Florida for school. In many ways, it was life changing. And—as important—it was fun!
So, after hubby and I tied the knot and we had worked long enough to give back a little, I wanted to get Mom a special Christmas gift I knew she would never get herself. I called Elizabeth Arden’s Red Door Spa in Dallas (since closed) and arranged for a day’s treat for my mother. I was giddy with excitement! She would have her hair cut, a facial, a full-body massage and time in the sauna. She would be petted and pampered. At the time it felt ridiculously expensive–$150!!
So Christmas morning I called my aunt’s house in Dallas. The day in Virginia had calmed down but their house was chaotic with cousins, second cousins, and my grandmother. Mom described her new nightgown in detail, told me all about a new Johnny Cash record, spoke at length about her new set of boots, and oh, yes, “Thank you, sweetie, for the spa trip.” That was it. How could I be so excited and she be so blasé?
She said in all the excitement she hadn’t taken the time to read what the gift entailed. At last I was able to smile, knowing I had given her something she would never buy for herself but which she would enjoy. It wasn’t a gift that lasted years, but it was a special moment in time, and isn’t that what makes great memories?
break (I taught) to drive to Texas, visit for a few days and then hightail it back home. One particular Texas Christmas, Jack carried into the house the gifts we had brought for Mom, my aunt, and cousins. On Christmas Eve, after midnight Mass, we were sitting around and quietly letting the night and season wash over us. My grandmother asked, “What would you like for Christmas, darling?” I said, looking hopefully at Jack, “I don’t think I will get it, but I’d really like a Kitchen Aid.” Quick as lightning, Jack answered, “Some people are just born to be disappointed!” We all laughed, said our goodnights and went off to wait for sleigh bells signaling the arrival of you-know-who.
big and heavy. Yup! It was a beautiful, shiny white Kitchen Aid! I was so surprised. By everyone’s reaction, I must have looked pretty funny. In fact, I did, as witnessed by the photos I saw afterward. I’m sure I didn’t stop smiling for the whole rest of the holiday. And Jack benefitted many times over with all kinds of breads, cakes, and goodies.
However, I do have a platform that is my least favorite. The name rhymes with Place Cook. And the reason for Place Cook’s being my least favorite social media platform is that THEY KEEP THROWING ME OUT. Okay, granted, I didn’t read all 100 pages of community rules and thus ended up with more than one account. But couldn’t they just tell me that and give me a chance to correct my errors instead of disabling my accounts so that I don’t even have access to delete them? Asking a question (like “please tell me why you disabled my account”) is like throwing a stone into a black hole. In short, I dislike Place Cook and it dislikes me. And I see no resolution to my plight.
Join Claire’s 
t time, I was in Virginia finishing up my year’s teaching contract and Jack was working in Kansas City as an IT consultant. We decided to spend my spring break in San Francisco.
Flowers lined the street, which has to be taken at a low speed not only due to the curves but to the grade, and it was not only quite the adventure, but not something we would have thought to do on our own.
for the kids, bringing your family dog or cat with you on vacation adds another level of stress. They have to be walked, watered, and fed during the day. Leaving them in the car while you’re walking, watering, and feeding yourself and your children can be problematic. And finding pet-friendly motels is not always easy.
other, and that can’t be accomplished with one or more family member glued to video games, Facebook, or email. Set aside an hour or two each day for device time and everyone will end up appreciating the freedom. Eventually. (Hey, I’m not sayin’ it’s gonna be easy.)
Creating a character is a little like chemistry: a little of this and a little of that, and you have a character that’s memorable (and keeps the same name all the way through the book!). I found a how-to guide that had character sheets in it, and I adopted it to fit what I wanted to know about my characters. Suddenly, I had a form to fill in for height, hair and eye color, hobbies, education, family members, etc. I added elements for conflict and goals, too. I assigned each major character three adjectives and then wrote three things the character might do that represented those adjectives. I found the character sheets helped keep me in line and on target.
Probably I like contemporary because I’m lazy. In contemporary romance, there is little truly in depth research that has to be done. I can make up pretty much whatever I want and make it fit into a storyline, whereas when writing historical there is so much to find out about day-to-day living.
I like some of the best known authors like Julie London, Eloisa James, Mary Balogh, and others, but lately have discovered