Sunday, June 25, 2017

Welcome Angela Christina Archer

Carly's View would like to welcome Angela Christina Archer, author of A ROAD PAVED IN COPPER, from the Long Valley Press. Thank you for joining us, Christina.

First and foremost, I’d like to thank Carly for allowing me the chance to take over her blog today! I thought I would do something fun and different and dive into a bit of history behind my latest novel, A Road Paved in Copper. Writing historicals isn’t always fun. There is quite a bit of research that goes into them, so if you pick a boring time period, it’s going to drain you. I always try to pick the time periods that interest me the most. I’m not into Regency, and while I love Outlander (Oh, Jamie. Yum!), I don’t think I’d fare too well in that era too. Sure, I’ve stepped all the way back to 1692 during the Salem Witch Trials with my third novel, When the Black Roses Grow, but I have to admit 
that novel gave me grief from the day I started it. I even shelved it three times without plans to finish it. Talk about research! Oh, and don’t even get me started on the dialect.

But back to my point! I tend to stick with time periods that I not only would love to live in, but love to study about. I suppose I got it from my dad. Who, by the way, was the one who lit the light bulb, so to speak, for A Road Paved in Copper. Anyone who knows my dad knows he likes to tell stories. One afternoon while visiting my parents, he started telling me this story about the woman who founded a small town in Nevada (my home state) that sits between Tonopah and Hawthorn called Mina. Her name was Ferminia Sarras.

After 1900, rich discovers in Tonopah and Goldfield had transformed Nevada's mining landscape. Investors scoured the state, hoping to cash in on the next bonanza, and Fermina's claims attracted a lot of attention. She became a regional celebrity who paved the way for woman miners and was also nicknamed Nevada's "Copper Queen" because of her talent for finding copper.
I think the best part of her life story was her travels to San Francisco. She spent her whole life not only mining, but traveling back and forth from the desert to the city, and the surrounding towns. Once she would gather large sums of money, she would ride to another town or the city and blow her fortune on fancy hotels, fine dining, and hoards of younger men. As soon as the money was gone, she would say, "I guess I better get back to the desert." She'd return to her mines, don her overalls, and take to the hills again.

So as you can see, she was a great woman to inspire the heroine of a story. Ava was, by far, my strongest character. While the others have always had to play a more reserved role, Ava could do anything she wanted. And boy, did she ever.

What people are saying about this book:

"This female lead is a bad ass! LOVE her!!"  
"A particular feature of this novel which was rather clever was that it managed to twist your initial assumptions and expectations of both the main character, and even the setting of the book itself."
"The ability of the author to provide us a glimpse into two such distinct worlds is truly commendable."
"It all comes together though for an unbelievably intense ending that left me a mess of tears."
“What a lovely PROPER book; intriguing, engaging, consuming and lovely to read. Just like books should be. The characters are well rounded and because of that they feel real and human. This is the first book I've read by Angela Christina Archer and I thoroughly enjoyed it, would definitely recommend it if you'd like to read a book that has substance as opposed to the fluff you get now.”

Thank you so much for stopping by today and joining me here! And, again, thank you to Carly for hosting me!

Growing up in Nevada, reading was always a pastime that took second place to trail riding and showing horses. When she did find the time in her youth to curl up with a book, she found enjoyment in the Saddle Club Series, the Sweet Valley High series, and the classics of Anne of Green Gables, The Box Car Children, and Little House on the Prairie. Although, writing always piqued her curiosity, it wasn’t until September 2009 that she worked up the courage to put her passion to paper and started her debut novel.

When she’s not writing, Angela spends her days from dawn to dusk as a stay at home, homeschooling mom. She also works in her garden and takes care of her many farm animals, as well as loves to bake and cook from scratch. She doesn't show horses anymore, but she still loves to trail ride her paint horse, Honky, as well as enjoys teaching her daughters how to ride their horses, Sunny and Cowboy.


Book Links:

Armed with her six-shooter, Ava De La Vega dips the pen into the inkwell and etches her name on the Esmeralda County tax record book. A formidable force, that's what her peers have called her. The woman in a man's world, what did she know of mining ore, silver, and copper? Plenty. And it's this knowledge that makes her of the richest miners in Nevada in 1903. Of course, it also makes her a target.

Traveling back and forth from Tonopah, Nevada and San Francisco, Ava blazes the trail from the dirt and grime of her mines to the fanciest hotel rooms, enjoying the finest wines, the most decadent meals, and the company of attractive young men.

Unfortunately, for Ava, she doesn’t see Craig Harrison coming.

A miner from the snowy Klondike, Craig has traveled from the harsh Canadian mountains down to city streets of San Francisco. Not looking for work, he's happy with the comfortable life away from the deep mines, the dirt, and the ever sought-after gold.

Unfortunately, for Craig, he doesn’t see Ava coming.

I lifted my glass and sipped the wine again, clicking my tongue as I set it back down. I knew the back and forth game about to occur between us, a battle of wits, a battle of landowners.
I fought to protect my land.
He fought to steal it.
“Is that the stance you are going to take, then?” I asked. “That you know nothing of the recent attack on my homestead?”
“Well, when one isn’t involved then usually they know nothing of the events that transpired.”
“Isn’t involved?”
“That is what I said, isn’t it?” He paused for a moment as if to exaggerate his defense. “Billy Jack and his men haven’t worked for me in over two years. I have no more control over that man than you do. What he does is his own business. I know nothing of his actions, nor do I order him to do my bidding anymore.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“You know, one shouldn’t hold onto resentment and anger when it comes to the past.”
“I don’t hold concern over what happened all those years ago anymore, and I haven’t for a long time.”
The smirk on his lips told me that a rebuttal sat on his tongue, and yet, he didn’t utter a word. Ah yes, another method of denial—silence—as if to say how dare I come at him with this. Did I not know who he was? Did I not know what he was capable of?
I did know, though.
It was he, who didn’t know what I was capable of doing.
“Is there anything else I can do for you today, Ava?” he finally asked. Indifference breathed through the tone of every word.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m rather busy and, quite frankly, I do not wish to waste any more of my time speaking with you if you are only going to accuse me of actions I know nothing about.”
“I know you calculated the attack on my homestead.”
He slightly shook his head. “As I told you before, I didn’t.”
“I know you did.”
“But you can’t prove it.”
I rose to my feet and yanked dozens of red satchels from my handbag, dangling them in my fingers for a few minutes before I tossed them on the table. A few of them fell open and coins rolled from the material, dropping to the floor with a few clangs.
Walter scrutinized the bags, but didn’t move an inch. A detail he hadn’t seen coming. A detail that pinned him to the crime. Evidence he couldn’t refute and that condemned him as though he was there that day.
“I’m sorry to inform you that you lost all of your men in the attack,” I continued. “I know you ordered the attack on my homestead.”
I stepped forward until I stood next to him. I leaned down, my face inches from his, and my hot breath whispered against his skin.

“And if you plan another one, I promise that I’ll gun you down myself.”

Thursday, June 15, 2017

Joanne Guidoccio talks Boundaries

Carly's View welcomes author and guest blogger, Joanne Guidoccio. Today Joanne talks of setting boundaries and how they can be beneficial not only on our time, but our health and wellness. 

Make sure to check out the giveaway at the bottom of the blog!

Thank you for joining us Joanne. 

On Setting Boundaries by: Joanne Guidoccio

Many positive traits have been associated with Sir Winston Churchill, among them the ability to set effective boundaries. Whenever I struggle with this essential life skill, I recall the following anecdote:

Sir Winston hired a young aide to be his gatekeeper. On the young man’s first day, Sir Winston said: “Occasionally, I like to take a brief nap to rejuvenate myself. It’s never more than fifteen or twenty minutes. While I am napping, I am not to be disturbed unless there is a crisis.”

Eager to please, the young man nodded. “Very good, sir.”

Sir Winston persisted. “No, not very good. Everyone who comes to you will say they have a potential crisis and I must be awakened. To avoid any confusion, I will tell you what I consider to be a crisis. It is an armed invasion of the British Isles. Anything less than that can wait.”

No other particulars were given, but I’m certain that Sir Winston enjoyed many undisturbed naps.

Several years ago, I witnessed another example of effective boundary setting, this one much closer to home.

On a cold, blustery January evening, I dawdled and took my time, hoping for a cancellation of the monthly meeting. The roads were treacherous and ten more centimeters of snow were expected before midnight. The cancellation didn’t arrive, so I ventured out. I drove slowly and arrived at the same time as Sarah, another executive member. While struggling to find parking spots, we grumbled about the weather conditions.

Once inside, we found the meeting in full swing. The other members were drinking tea while listening to a lengthy report. We took our places and sat through a poorly organized meeting that accomplished nothing. As for the teapot, it was nowhere in sight. Seething inwardly, I decided to resign at the end of my term—five months away.

When the Chairperson asked if there was any further business, Sarah put up her hand and said: “In the interest of self-care, I have decided to resign my position. I’m giving two weeks’ notice.”

The chairperson nodded and thanked Sarah for all her contributions.

I alternated between admiration and envy. While I admired Sarah for her forthrightness, I wished that I had been able to resign so elegantly. Her example inspired me and I ended up leaving six weeks later, instead of waiting out the five-month term.

Lessons learned...

Be Clear and Concise

There is no need for long, drawn-out explanations. When Sarah said “In the interest of self-care,” everyone in the room knew exactly what she was talking about. As a stay-at-home mother who was home-schooling four children and trying to launch a new business, she couldn’t afford any energy drains. As for Sir Winston, I can’t imagine any visitor coming up with a counter-excuse to “an invasion of the British Isles.”

Trust Your Instincts

Certain people and situations can be toxic to our health and well-being. We cannot and should not ignore that persistent headache, nausea, or feeling of discomfort that seems to come out of nowhere. Our bodies are attuned to all vibrations and will send messages if there are any perceived threats. When discomfort or resentment arises, someone is either taking advantage or not appreciating us. Since Sarah and I were volunteering our time, it was much easier to resign from our roles. In some cases, it may be necessary to take distance while slowly disengaging.

Be Calm

There is nothing more powerful than a definitive No delivered in a calm manner. In full control of her emotions, Sarah didn’t shake or tremble when resigning her position. And I don’t think Sir Winston shouted any of his concerns.

Blurb from Joanne's latest book, TOO MANY WOMEN IN THE ROOM

When Gilda Greco invites her closest friends to a VIP dinner, she plans to share David Korba’s signature dishes and launch their joint venture— Xenia, an innovative Greek restaurant near Sudbury, Ontario. Unknown to Gilda, David has also invited Michael Taylor, a lecherous photographer who has throughout the past three decades managed to annoy all the women in the room. One woman follows Michael to a deserted field for his midnight run and stabs him in the jugular.
Gilda’s life is awash with complications as she wrestles with a certain detective’s commitment issues and growing doubts about her risky investment in Xenia. Frustrated, Gilda launches her own investigation and uncovers decades-old secrets and resentments that have festered until they explode into untimely death. Can Gilda outwit a killer bent on killing again?


“I’m a nobody here,” David said, glancing down at his plate. “And with my credit rating, none of the banks would endorse a loan. I’m screwed.”
“What if I backed you?” I couldn’t believe I was speaking so casually, all the while my heart beat at an alarming rate.
David rubbed a hand over his chin and flashed a grin at me. “Gilda, darling, you’re sweet to offer, but I don’t think you know what’s involved here.”
Susan nodded in agreement.
Were they playing me, I wondered. Since winning nineteen million dollars in Lotto649, I had encountered many sharks who hoped to prey on my easy-going nature. A quick Google search would have revealed my three-year-old lottery win. Old news, but still there on the second and third pages.
“Would one hundred thousand dollars be enough?” I asked. “In case you don’t know, I won a major lottery several years ago.” Since winning, I had received many proposals from across the province and had backed three local ventures. In each case, I had chosen to remain a silent partner.
David’s right hand trembled as he poured himself another glass of wine. Susan’s mouth dropped open, and she gave a little gasp.
“I take it that’s a yes,” I said.
More mild protests followed, and another bottle of wine disappeared. We were all a bit tipsy when we shook on the agreement. And so Xenia was born.



Amazon (US):
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Bio of Joanne Guidoccio

In 2008, Joanne Guidoccio retired from a 31-year teaching career and launched a second act that tapped into her creative side. Slowly, a writing practice emerged. Her articles and book reviews were published in newspapers, magazines, and online. When she tried her hand at fiction, she made reinvention a recurring theme in her novels and short stories. A member of Crime Writers of Canada, Sisters in Crime, and Romance Writers of America, Joanne writes cozy mysteries, paranormal romance, and inspirational literature from her home base of Guelph, Ontario.

Where to find Joanne...


Click on the Rafflecopter link below for your chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Welcome author, Tina Susedik

Today Carly's View would like to welcome author and guest blogger, Tina Susedik. Tina is multi-published in both fiction and non-fiction including military, history, children's, and romance. Her favorite is romantic mysteries. She also writes as Anita Kidesu. 

In her spare time, Tina loves to read, hike, camp, bike, garden, take photographs, and spend time with her five grandchildren.
She can be found at or follow her blog at


Authors are often asked where we get our ideas, anyway I do. For me they come from anywhere and everywhere. The idea for my first book, “Riding for Love,” came to me when I was taking riding lessons. There I was, sitting on the top of this huge horse, miles and miles from the ground. The instructor was showing me how to move my hips to the sway of the horse. Bam – story idea. What if a man who is petrified of horses (as I was that day), wants to win back his high school sweetheart who owns a horse ranch. He decides the best way to get closer to her was to take riding lessons. Throw in some suspense, and, boom, story.

I think authors also throw in personal experiences in their stories. So far, each of my books has at least one, or maybe two things that have actually happened to me. In “Riding for Love,” it was the scene mentioned above. In “Never With a Rich Man,” a romantic mystery, there is a scene that was taken from something that happened on my first date with my husband. In my stories written as Anita Kidesu, I added a few things that my husband and I experienced. In my book, “A Trail to Love,” there is a scene that, when my sister read it, she said, “Oh, my gosh, that was so funny. Which brother did that happen to?”

Here is a snippet of a scene from “Never With a Rich Man” that was taken from real life. In the story, the couple are at an up-scale restaurant. In real life, my date and I were at a family restaurant. We were in college, so money was an issue. It was homecoming and I wore a borrowed dress. To my surprise, and delight, even after this embarrassing episode, Al asked me out again, and again, and again. We’ve been married forty-four years! I also have to admit that the scene that follows the restaurant scene did not happen in real life. After all, it was our first date!

A comfortable silence settled around them while the waiter took away empty salad plates and set their main courses before them, along with fresh, hot bread, and a variety of condiments to accent their meals. Hogan was about to cut into his steak when he noticed Cassie finger a bottle of steak sauce the waiter had left on the table.
“Do you put steak sauce on roast beef?” he asked.
Cassie gave him a small smile. “No. It’s just . . .”
“What? You can tell me.”
“When I was little my parents would make steak on Saturday nights after Bess and I went to bed. I’d lie under my blankets feeling warm and secure, listening to the hum of their voices, smelling the cooking meat. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I’d sneak down into the kitchen and watch. My father always knew I was there because suddenly he would grab me and set me on his lap.”
“What then?” Hogan asked when Cassie paused obviously reliving pleasant memories.
“Dad would cut small pieces of steak and feed me.” She fiddled with her napkin. “One of the things he loved on his meat was steak sauce, but he’d never let Bess and I have any. He said it would grow hair on our chests, and he didn’t want any of his daughters looking like orangutans. The funny thing is, for as much steak sauce as that man used, I seem to remember he had the barest chest of any man I’ve ever seen. Redheads don’t have hairy bodies.”
Hogan pointed at her chest with his fork. “I, for one, am glad he wouldn’t allow his daughters to have steak sauce. I can’t imagine hair all over your lovely chest.” Her chest turn pink, the blush rising to her neck, then her face. The sight caused his body to perk up and take notice.
He turned his attention to slathering butter and sour cream on his baked potato, much like he would like to slather his tongue over her bare breasts. He wondered if they also blushed when she was embarrassed. He adjusted his napkin on his lap as he grew hard. Luckily Cassie wouldn’t see his discomfort beneath the tablecloth. Painfully, he ignored his crotch and went back to her story.
“Anyway, after he died when I was twelve, we moved in with my mother’s parents for a short time,” Cassie continued as she sliced her roast. “I don’t know, it must have been a man thing or something because my grandpa wouldn’t let us girls have steak sauce, either.”
It shook Hogan to hear her father had left when she was so young. Girls needed a father until they were . . . well, until they were old and gray. If he ever had a daughter, or son for that matter, he planned on sticking around forever. Hogan gave Cassie an encouraging smile.
“Go ahead, have some. I don’t think you’ll start growing hair on your chest at this point in time.”
Cassie laughed and picked up the bottle. “I can still hear the smack of the bottle hitting the palm of Dad’s hand when he shook up the steak sauce.” She picked up the bottle and jerked it upward.


Twitter: @tinasusedik,author
Facebook: Tina Susedik, Author