I’d like to confess something. I have a thing about old houses. An obsession to see what’s inside them, know who lived there, maybe even learn who died there. When I was a kid, my grandparents lived on a farm way out in the sticks. Their pre-Civil War farmhouse was fascinating, with its many interior doors, woodwork, and wainscoting covered in original faux wood-grain paint, and lots of little rooms and two front doors. Not two front doors next to each other, but two separate front doors opening into two different rooms. Fascinating, and still unexplained. But even more interesting to me was the abandoned Victorian down the dirt road. Strangely ornate, it seemed out of place in the deep country setting. Because of its dilapidated condition and the fear it would collapse, I was never allowed to go inside—physically. Mentally, I explored all I wanted and made up some darn fine stories, now lost to time, about what the interior looked like and the ghosts who inhabited it. Finally, that house did fall down, and last time I went by it was a pile of wood, covered over with brush and vines, quickly being overtaken by the land. It…

Here’s the thing…it’s my job to freak you out.  Truly.  And barring that, it’s my job to make you cry.  Barring that, I should at least be able to make you laugh. And if I can’t make you do any of that…well then clearly you are dead inside. The truth is, I loooove writing scary stories that are balanced with either a whole lotta funny, or, something emotionally powerful that makes the reader well up a little.  Sometimes I’m lucky, and my stories are both scary and riddled with punch lines.  Other times, the focus is a bit more serious, and funny may not always be appropriate.  Each book is a little different with its own unique combo of, “Eeek!” + “Haha!” + “Sniffle!” Mostly, though, I want your heart to pound, your funny bone to itch, and your eyes to leak.  And it delights me if all of that would happen to you someplace public – the subway, the lunch counter, the library.  Can you tell that I’m a bit of a sadist? Still, I will give fair warning for my M. J. Holliday fans that my latest release, NO GHOULS ALLOWED, is super-duper scary.  As in…even I had…

I’m so glad to be here on Fresh Fiction to chat about my new historical romance, SECRETS OF A SCANDALOUS HEIRESS. As you’d expect from the title, it’s the story of an heiress who uses a trip to Bath to hide her scandalous identity and forge a new one. But our heroine, Augusta Meredith, didn’t count on meeting someone she knew: blunt, witty Joss Everett, an Anglo-Indian with secrets of his own. Since it’s a new year and we’re all full of advice and resolutions, I’d like to present… Miss Augusta Meredith’s Guide to Keeping a Secret (Please note: these tips are intended for trained professionals on a closed course.) 1. When constructing a new and false identity for the pursuit of pleasure, avoid the company of people you know. 2. If the company of acquaintances cannot be avoided, make sure at least to avoid handsome men with uncomfortably perceptive wit. 3. If such a man cannot be avoided, and such a man uncovers one’s new and false identity, distract him with an indecent proposition. He is unlikely to accept if he is a gentleman, but he will not be expecting it and will grow fuddled. Take every advantage, ladies!…

I fly a lot for my job, and if there is one thing that is universally true, weather can bring out the worst in people.  The absolute worst.  A couple of years ago I was flying back from Ireland through Chicago O’Hare.  My flight got in just before massive thunderstorms rolled through.  All flights were cancelled.  I was stuck in that airport for more than eight hours, in a terminal with limited seating and amenities.  When I said that travel brought out the worst in people, I may or may not have been referring to myself.  I’m not very patient.  But at least I didn’t take up more than one seat, or more than one outlet, or stand in the enormous food court line and wait until I got to the counter to debate the menu items with my spouse.  But there were those who did. That horrible, terrible, no-good very bad day was the day I got the idea to write a short tale about two people flying from New York to Seattle who have to get there on time when a huge blizzard shut down westbound flights.  The Bridesmaid was published last year and was the Planes, Trains…

Hello everyone!  My name is Jessica Peterson, and book two of my debut Regency-set trilogy, THE MILLIONAIRE ROGUE, hits shelves TODAY!  I describe it as The Thomas Crown Affair meets a sassy Jane Austen: a famous fifty carat diamond is stolen in the midst of a crowded ballroom, and all sorts of deliciousness ensues! MILLIONAIRE was so fun to write.  I wouldn’t say it was easy – writing is never, ever, ever easy, at least not for me – but I fell in love with my characters pretty quickly, which always makes the daydreaming necessary for plotting a bit easier. I absolutely ADORE Thomas and Sophia, my witty hero and heroine, and hope you will, too.  I think one of the main reasons I had fun writing their story was how much kissing these two do.  They kiss and they kiss and I was all too happy to explore their wonderfully excessive kissing mojo. One of my favorite scenes in MILLIONAIRE is when Sophia asks Thomas to kiss her – for the second time that night: Sophia let out a breath.  If Hope wasn’t holding her up with his weight, her knees would have definitely buckled.  Good God, never did a…