Hello January! Thank you so much for visiting Written
Butterfly with me today! It’s such a
pleasure to chat with you. So tell me…
It’s lovely to be here today with you! Thanks so much for
the invite. I look forward to talking books with everyone.
Q) How did you dream
up the dynamics of your characters?
That’s an interesting question! The heroine, Casey Madison in
Winning Casey, is the wild
adventurous type I would LOVE to emulate. She speaks to me on a lot of levels. That
intense connection makes it easier to see a character, endowing them with
characteristics of interesting people you would like to meet or even be. Once
you know your hero or heroine, and place them are in close quarters in a scene
(especially when they are very different personalities from each other
as this pair of hot-heads are) the conflict has no choice but to explode!
Truman Harrison, the hero in Winning
Casey is judged by her as being a stuffy, academic type while she’s seen as
a maverick which is loaded with conflict. A lot of hot, intense moments to
record at every twist and turn!
Q) Is this book part
of a series? If so, can you tell us
about it?
Yes, it is the first book in The Brass Ring Sorority series, a series that is scheduled for at
least eight books, all about the exploits of an amazing group of Canadian women
helping and supporting each other as they go on wild adventures. Everything
from Casey’s going after the legendary treasure of Oak Island’s Money Pit, to Lacey
wrestling sharks in the waters off Florida, to all of them pitching in to
search for treasures across the globe. I love that Casey digs up gold in the
Yukon that once belonged to Soapy Smith, a conman from the Klondike days that
actually exited in real life! I just embellished his story a bit, okay, a whole
lot! Each kickass goddess in the series will have a dream, a reaching for the
brass ring, that the others will do their utmost best to make come true.
Q) Can you give a
fun or interesting fact about your book?
That the story
is based on a true event in Canadian history, the legendary Oak Island Money
Pit that has been turned into a television series.
Q) What gave you the inspiration for
your book?
Winning Casey was inspired by
wanting to write about a group of women that were fearless in what they do. Not
afraid of embracing life, going for that Brass Ring! Casey is such a live wire
to write about. Someone I’d want to be if I had unlimited access. She inspires
me to be a better person, even while I giggle with her at her exploits. Like
all fun heroines, she has her foibles!
Q) Do you have any
habits that get you in the writing frame of mind?
I do the exact same thing 7 days a week: wake up between
five AM and six AM, drink a gallon of coffee while I write non-stop until I
need a break around ten. Then do other stuff, then write, then do other stuff,
then write…
As a wise person once said, you got to be there for it to happen!
Q) Do you plan all
your characters out before you start a story or do they develop as you write?
Some of both! Writing can be planned down to the smallest
detail, but the characters have a way of getting their way, of taking over.
It’s an organic experience. It takes so much more than I would ever have
guessed to do this. It takes all you got if you want to do it to the best of
your ability.
Q) How much real life do you put into or
influences your books?
Some for sure. I read a lot of biographies to get ideas for how people
really live their lives, I read a lot of history books, I mine everything I can
get my hands on! I read a number of books each week, trying better to
understand the human condition, how we tick! People are endlessly fascinating
to me. And romance, wow, I love the special nuances of a growing relationship.
I feel very blessed to get to do this job full time.
Q) What are your
upcoming projects?
Lots going on! A dozen more books promised to complete the
two series: The Brass Ring Sorority series and The TETRAD Group series. So I
better get my ass in gear 24/7 if I want to get them done! And I have more
ideas than I could ever have imagined. Seems the more you write, the more ideas
come to you.
Blurb:
Think archaeology is just dead bones? Think again.
Headstrong archaeologist Casey spends her life exploring the world for hidden treasure and
ancient artifacts. A free spirit, her dedication to her calling means she’s
often in conflict with the more narrow-minded higher-ups at the university
where she’s employed as an associate professor. Timetables, rules,
protocols—they all go out of the window when Casey’s on the hunt.
The
inscrutable Professor Truman Harrison falls for Casey at first sight, literally, tumbling into a pit at her
feet on first meeting. Now, if he as Casey’s new, detested department head can just talk her into helping him search
for the legendary treasure buried in the Money Pit of Oak Island, Nova Scotia,
maybe he can also get her to fall into his bed. But first he needs to prove to
her he’s not just another tunnel-visioned, box-ticking management ‘suit’.
But the
romance of this scorching-hot couple proves to have all the twists, turns,
false starts and trick corners of a multicursal labyrinth. Luckily, both Casey
and Truman have no small skill and a little bit of practice in navigating
those...
Part madcap
caper, part serious treasure hunting, the Brass Ringers never fail to entertain
or get their way!
Excerpt:
“Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting
So much as just finding the gold.”
Robert Service
Casey
glared at the stuffed moose head and it stared right back at her, its one
broken antler leering.
“What
are you looking at? You think this is easy? Who piles this many friggin’ rocks
over their treasure, anyway? Yeah, yeah, I know—someone trying to hide it.”
She
took a deep breath, adjusted her white and blue striped canvas work gloves and
inserted the heavy red-tipped crowbar under the final stone slab. Air hissed
out of her mouth and nose as she exerted her back and thigh muscles to the
task, straining to pry it loose.
“Ach-choo!”
She
sniffed loudly, her nose dripping. The damn soot-covered rocks had been in use
as a fire pit. Give it to Hefty,
though—clever ruse.
Ignoring
the black soot, she leaned against the huge pile of stones and wiped her nose
on her hoodie sleeve before shining her flashlight onto Hefty McGee’s journal.
She thumbed through the tattered pages, still confident that the university
wouldn’t miss the dusty old thing for one weekend.
“Hmm,
says here Hefty won a moose head from a saloon keeper in a card game right here
in Dawson City. Furthermore, that you lost that antler in the ensuring
fistfight when it turned out that the gambler was a poor loser. Know anything
about that?”
She
tucked the journal back into her hoodie then reinserted the crowbar.
“Okay,
here goes!” She attacked the slab with all her might. A loud squeal of protest
as rock ground against rock. Ah, it
moved. Just another few inches. Grunting, she pushed harder until the heavy
cover slid off enough that she could shine her flashlight inside the hole
pickaxed into the cave floor.
The
sight of a large rotted pile of leather securely wrapped and tied with a cord
quickened her breath. On top, weighing the package down, was a small smooth rock,
and underneath it a torn piece of brown butcher paper. She pulled it out and
shone the light on it.
She
read the faded handwritten words aloud, figuring the moose had a right to know,
as well.
“‘Abandon hope all ye who steals Soapy’s Gold. It be cursed. Gave me
the pox. Hefty McGee.’”
Casey chuckled, despite the discomfort of the past few
hours of digging in the tight, damp quarters, and gave the moose head a glance.
“Just proves, old man, I’m in the right place!”
She
thrust her arm inside the large hole in the cave floor and tugged on the heavy
parcel. Damn, not enough room to lift it
out. The blasted stone needed to be moved farther over. She glanced back at
the doorway of the cave. Only a short while and the spring waters of the rising
Yukon River would flood the low-lying cave.
“Be
nice if you could lend a hand, buster.” She directed her comments at the moose
head. It was beginning to creep her out, staring down at her with glassy,
lifeless eyes. Okay, so perhaps coming alone had not been so smart, but she
needed to know if all her research was going to pay off. And, just maybe, it
was about to. Big-time.
The
pry bar slipped as the rock jerked under the extreme pressure. It swung in an
upward arc toward the moose head, pitching her forward as it did so. It also
hit the beast a solid blow on its huge bulbous nose, knocking it loose from its
perch on the rock wall and right down onto her head.
The
last thought as pain drilled into her brain was that the old miner who had gone
to the trouble to hide his stolen gold in the wilds of Northern Canada might
have gotten it right. The curse was effective—if one was a klutz.
Casey
woke with a start, shivering uncontrollably. Her head pounded from a possible
concussion and her clothes were soaking wet. She blinked hard, gingerly
touching the top of her skull, and felt a lump as large as a goose egg under
her platinum braid of hair. Damn. If
she had a mirror she could tell her if her eyes were dilated. But at least
there was no blood. She rummaged in her pocket for her cell phone and checked
the time. Double damn. She’d been out for more than an hour!
As
her vision cleared, she focused on the cave’s entrance. Waves slapping around
the opening made her heart race. Swallowing hard against the shock and the
pain, she struggled to pull herself to a sitting position. Her brain swam with
the effort and she punched the downed moose right in its over-sized moth-eaten
nose.
“It’s
all your fault! If you weren’t already dead…” Casey threatened. She managed to
get to her feet by holding on to the clammy moss-covered stone wall. Trickles
of moisture created darkened trails down the ancient walls, dampening her
palms.
A
flash of something sliding by the doorway drew her attention. Her boat! Left
tied to a tree on shore, with the rising waters it’d somehow managed to work
itself free. Headache forgotten, she splashed through the frigid water, lunging
to snatch hold of it before it drifted away in the current. Swaying dizzily,
she managed to tug it inside the cave’s broad mouth. Thank goodness the cave
floor sloped down toward the river, otherwise her transport might have floated
away while she was knocked out.
She
held hard to the canoe’s frayed rope, maneuvering the sixteen-foot boat closer
to the treasure. Once she tied it securely to an outcropping of rock, she
hauled the offending moose head off to the side, grateful the one good antler
hadn’t pierced her skull. She relaunched her efforts to retrieve the booty.
Thank God her flashlight was still intact and working.
“No
fucking way I’m leaving here without my gold!” she muttered. “God damn it—move,
won’t you!” she exclaimed in frustration, pushing as hard as she could manage.
It was now or never. At least the weight training was paying off. She put
everything behind the effort, every muscle in her body struggling and screaming
at her to give it up already.
With
an ominous creak like a banshee screaming in the wind, she inched the stone lid
off bit by bit, the pit reluctant to give up its treasure. Finally, against the
clock, Casey jolted the stone lid far enough off to allow her full access to
what lay beneath. With a tug at the rotted string that bound the package, she
thrust it out of the way and pushed her hand inside to pull apart the decayed
leather.
She
froze and took a deep breath, heart hammering. Was this the moment? Would all
her intensive research now pay off? Or was it an elaborate hoax set up by an
ornery old conman with a wicked sense of humor?
She
touched it reverently, a laying-on-of-hands. Took a deep breath.
This
was it. The moment of truth.
And
yet, she hesitated, her hands trembling. So much rode on this. Finding the
treasure would fund another adventure, her life’s blood. Give her the freedom
she needed. Craved.
Open it already!
Okay. Stop shouting at me.
The
war within quieted as she slowly peeled back the edges of the musty old
covering. Was that a choir of angels singing? No, just her imagination working
overtime. Whispers from the past upping the roaring clamor in her head as the
color revealed itself.
Shiny yellow nuggets. Gold! Soapy’s stolen
hoard!
The
nuggets gleamed brightly under the flashlight’s beam. Nestled between the lumps
of gold, someone had packed old leather pouches filled with gold dust. She’d
found it! She swallowed hard. Glanced back at the cave’s entrance.
Crap. The water was rising. Faster.
Hurriedly, she scooped up the heavy nuggets and
packets, flinging them into her backpack and glancing back at the cave’s
entrance every few seconds to make sure she could still free herself. Running
out of room in the pack, she pulled another black carryall from the canoe’s
bottom and loaded it. At the last possible second, she threw in the moose head,
knowing she was being loopy. The damn thing must weigh twenty-five pounds,
broken antler or not, but he’d helped point the way.
Buy Link:
Bio for
January Bain and links:
January Bain has wished on every falling star, every
blown-out birthday candle, and every coin thrown in a fountain to be a
storyteller. To share the tales of high adventure, mysteries, and full blown
thrillers she has dreamed of all her life. The story you now have in your hands
is the compilation of a lot of things manifesting itself for this special
series. Hundreds of hours spent researching the unusual and the mundane have
come together to create a series that features strong women who don’t take life
too seriously, wild adventures full of twists and unforeseen turns, and hot
complicated men who aren’t afraid to take risks. She can only hope the stories
of her beloved Brass Ringers will capture your imagination as you follow their
exploits as much as they did when she wrote them.
If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her
hard at work every morning without fail in her office with two furry babies
trying to prove who does a better job of guarding the doorway. And, of course,
she’s married to the most romantic man! Who once famously remarked to her
inquiry about buying fresh flowers for their home every week, “Give me one good
reason why not?” Leaving her speechless and knocking her head against the
proverbial wall for being so darn foolish. She loves flowers.
If you wish to connect in the virtual world she is
easily found on Facebook, twitter and writes a weekly blog about her journey on
Blogger. Oh, and she loves to talk books…
Any other social media -
Email address for fans -
It was so much fun to visit with you today, Beth! Thanks so much for having me! Hugs, January
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