Author Interview: Tink's Place Would Like To Welcome Author Joanne Brothwell!!

Today on Tink's Place, I'd like to welcome author Joanne Brothwell!

She's the author of several lovely New Adult books, Stealing Breath and Silencing Breath both published with Crescent Moon Press, as well as her first self-published book and a fabulous retelling of Hansel & Gretel, Forest of the Forsaken: The Witch's Snare (I've had an opportunity to read this book and it's wonderful, enticing, an amazing journey for the senses (can you tell I liked it?)!! And only 99 cents on Amazon!! Worth every cent and an amazing deal!) Today, we'll going to talk about her newest release with Crescent Moon Press, Silencing Breath.

Welcome Joanne!

Thanks for being here today!

Thanks for having me :)
 

Why don't you start by telling my readers a little bit about yourself?

I live in the country on the Canadian Prairie with my husband, two kids, my retired police dog and a feral barn cat. When I’m not getting my car stuck in snow, shoveling snow, or picking weeds, I have my nose stuck in a book!

What drew you to the craft of writing? 

I have always been a creative person, but was never really able to express myself the way I could in writing. When I finally started, I realized being able to tell stories was my favorite pastime!

Do you write for the story burning to be told or do you write for a character that won't leave you alone?

For the story, for sure. The characters usually come later. And once they have formed, they definitely won’t shut up!

Are you a pantser or plotter?

Pantser. I don’t like to do anything twice. I find with plotting something out, when it comes time to write it I’m bored with the idea. Now that I’m writing it, my reason sounds so dumb!

When do you like to write? Mornings, Afternoons, Middle of the Night, or somewhere in between (like when the kids sleep)?

Anytime. I used to write in the mornings before anyone else was up, but lately I’ve been taking Fridays off from work and using that day to write. It is very lovely.

When you're not writing, do you have a favorite author or genre you enjoy?

I really love Cassandra Clare’s writing. Her prose is so poetic and descriptive. I really feel like I can see the world she paints. In terms of genre, I have grown tired of paranormal and am looking for something new. Perhaps science fiction.

What advice would you give to others in the journey to becoming published?

I think I would say to set realistic expectations. Don’t expect to be the next Amanda Hocking or E.L. James. You’d be better off trying to win the lottery.

If your book was going to be made into a movie, who would play your heroine? Hero? Bad guy?

I think Emma Watson would be a wonderful Sarah, because she comes off as so sweet and innocent. For the male lead, I am really liking Stephen Amell, who plays the Arrow. He is gorgeous, has the whole alpha male down, but still has a heart. Bad guy, Stefano would be played by Joseph Morgan. He doesn’t have the right hair color and has the wrong accent, but he just has the charisma of my evil older brother.

Where can we find you and your books?

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Share with us something about your current book.

The Malandanti are far more prevalent in this second book than the first. You really get a peek into Stefano and Evan’s childhood, being raised by a Malandanti High Priest and Priestess.

Some fun stuff:

Coffee, Tea, or Something Harder?

I’m a die hard coffee addict. Take away my coffee and someone’s gonna hurt!

If you were stranded on a desert island... would you hope that Johnny Depp, Hugh Jackman, or Gerard Butler was stranded with you (if hubby/boyfriend decided to stay home while you cruised, for me, not likely, lol, but I'd have a hard time choosing...)?

Can I say no to all of them? I must be picky or something, because I’m not a fan of any of those guys. Right now, it would be Henry Cavill, the new Superman. He makes blue tights look manly!

Favorite all-time read? Movie? Favorite banned book?

Exit to Eden was a book written by Ann Rice, and when it was made into a movie it was banned in Saskatchewan, where I live. The movie was absolutely awful, but the book was hot. It was my first exposure to BDSM and I’ll certainly never forget it!

Favorite paranormal creature?

Skinwalker from my books!

If you were going to pick a book/movie character to become...who would it be?

I really would love to be Harry Potter. Wouldn’t it be cool to be “the boy who lived”?

It would be fabulous to step inside Harry Potter's life, the later years, not when he was living under the Drusley's staircase, but when he was a wizard of renown abilities, have to agree with you there! 

Secret desires?

New York Times bestseller.

Gee, me too!! *grin*

If you'd like to take a little peek into the life of Sarah Ross, Joanne Brothwell's Little Moon's Release of Vicarious is only 99 cent on Amazon and part of the series.

Again, thanks for being here today, Joanne!!

Now, I'm going to offer a short excerpt, because the book was great reading! Your words are amazingly visual, I have no problem falling into your stories.

CHAPTER ONE 

The rust-pitted shovel hit the casket with a dry, hollow thud. Stefano pulled the shovelful of earth out, this time leaving behind a hole that revealed the dark mahogany wood below. Ignoring the mineral taste of dirt in his mouth, he slung the soil off to the side and straightened up, grinning at the cavity he‘d made in the earth. Finally, the precious bones interred here would be freed from their earthly prison. Finally. Father is so close now. 

Stefano wiped his gritty brow with the back of his hand, closing his eyes briefly as he sucked in a deep breath. His eyes flicked back open; his hair ruffled in the soft breeze, sending sweat-soaked tendrils tickling back and forth across the back of his neck. 

All around the dead spoke to him—soft voices urging him on, singing their songs of revenge. Their graves hummed with the music, each stone unique in its individual melody. The white ones, falsetto and ringing; the grey ones an alto pleading. The black resonances rumbled with a deep baritone that wove the sounds all together into an ear-splitting cacophony of self- righteousness. Stefano smiled. Beautiful. His shovel sliced into the earth once again. 

Within moments the coffin came into plain view, visible only by the silvery sheen borrowed from the moonlight. Stefano‘s eyes widened as his heart thudded inside of his chest. The lustre of the casket had dulled in the years since Stefano had last seen it, but the image of that gently sloping wood was inexorably burned into his mind‘s eye. Throwing the shovel aside, Stefano reached for the jigsaw that lay on the grass above him. He turned it on, bent down and stifled a chuckle while the blade tore the wood apart as if it were a knife through butter. 

Bone. The whitish-beige bones glistened within their dark, wooden home. Stefano sucked in a breath as he absently turned the saw off and pitched it back up onto the grass near the open grave. With blistered, bare hands he tore the remainder of the wood away, ignoring the burning splinters that stabbed into his fingers. The coiling scent of rot rose from the casket. Father. 

The bones were fully intact. Stefano let out a long sigh as the full impact hit him—the bones were completely usable—and now nothing, nothing at all, stood in his way. 

Stefano gathered up the bones in his arms, carrying them as he if were carrying a small, fragile child, and gently placed them on the grass alongside the gaping hole in the ground. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the last necessary ingredients. This is the only way. The only way to return to my former power. Evandro has forced my hand. 

He placed the items atop the bones—a blood-stained, torn piece of clothing with the blood of the betraying son, a wallet, representing the individual, and Stefano‘s own dog tags with the Valente family crests, representing the lineage. He set them all atop his father‘s bones and then stood over the pile, looking down. His breath came in quick gasps, as excitement and fear spread through his body, his hands shaking. 

―Modicum Satanis versus Organias madis Revengus!‖ Stefano‘s lips uttered each and every word with deadly precision, the sound ringing out as smooth as silk into the silent night. 

Overhead, the night sky exploded into a fiery red, the clouds rolling outward from the

point directly above Stefano, like flames extending—spilling—from a central point. A low baritone hum began that reverberated through the ground beneath Stefano‘s feet, the volume building and building until it reached a thunderous roar that seemed to electrify each and every particle around Stefano‘s head. With a loud crack the light and sound disappeared.

Stefano stared at what stood directly in front of him. ―Father.

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