Sunday, August 28, 2011

Mara Purl

Yep, today if your visiting there's something special going on. If you follow my other Blog Works In Progress you know I featured Mara Purl there a few weeks ago.
I discovered such unique and wonderful things about her that I decided to shared what I didn't have room for there.
Mara Purl is an actress, an author, a song writer and more. I found she is one of those woman who has the talent to accomplish to perfection anything she decides to do.

Here's sneak peek. You can just feel the tension and the promise of surprises to come.
Jack Sawyer’s chair squeaked as he swiveled to face out the
window, still spattered from last year’s rainy season. With half
an ear, he continued to listen as Samantha droned on.

Development is one thing, Jack. Ravaging the land is
something else. I warned you to put a hold on this until our
environmental impact study was complete.”

And I warned you what would happen if you ever tried to
interfere with my business again. Let me see if I can shed a
little light on rules for you. The rule, you said, was that no one
was to know about us. You moved to Milford-Haven seven
years ago, and I’ve obeyed your rule all this time, despite—”

Despite what, Jack?”

His fist hit the well-worn desk. “Despite the fact that you
continue to do everything you can to interfere with my
business, every time I turn around!”

My goal isn’t to interfere with your business. I’m simply
doing my job. Why do you insist on taking this personally?”

Personally? There’s nothing more personal to me than my
business, and you’d understand that if you’d ever stuck with
anything long enough to actually let it grow into something.”

That was uncalled-for, Jack, and I resent it.”

He heard something—the merest suggestion—in her voice:
filled with righteous indignation at the surface, it resonated
with a deeper note that quavered with hurt. I hate being able to
read her so well after all this time. But then again, it’s something
I can use.

After all, it was her fault their marriage had failed, and he
saw no reason to let bygones be bygones. Having brought home
his point, Jack inhaled, poised to deliver another blow. “Don’t
forget that your precious job is a political appointment.”

Jack waited to see what she’d say next, but she fell silent. I
got to her—again. He shifted his weight back in his chair—
allowing it to squeak long and loud—and lifted his feet,
crossing his work boots on the desk. He heard her take a deep

All right, Jack. What do you want?”

Now he spoke quietly, almost pleasantly. “I want you to
stop the investigation of that land. I want this shopping center
to be unencumbered and unobstructed.” It was the old
argument. They’d had it dozens of times before, on scores of
proposed projects.
You know I can’t promise that, Jack. It’s out of my hands.”

Fine. It’ll soon be out of my hands too.”

Wh . . . what will soon—” Sam sputtered.

He cut her off. “What will soon be out of my hands is exactly
when the town of Milford-Haven finds out you’re the former
Mrs. Jack Sawyer.” He started to laugh and decided the laughing
felt better than anything had in a long time.

Jack, what could you possibly stand to gain by doing this?”
She’s grasping at straws. Jack could barely talk now through
the laughter. “More to the point, what could you stand to lose?”
His laugh was hard enough now that it began to turn into his
chronic cough. Not even that deterred him, nor diminished his

Jack! Jack!”

He hung up with a satisfying click. It’s about time I had a
victory over Samantha. I’ll make a call to that reporter later

He stared a long moment out the mud-streaked windows.
I wonder how much Kevin overheard? “Kevin!” The shout
irritated his throat started up his cough. After a moment, Jack’s
door opened.

Yes sir, Mr. Sawyer?”

Get your personal copy September 2011
When Hummers Dream
A Milford-Haven Short Story Free in August
E-Book Edition . . . Kindle Single & Nook Book

1. Why did Milford-Haven come into existence?
In the entertainment business, there are people known as “hyphenates”—people who are writer-directors, or actor-producers. Well, I knew for a long time I was an actor-writer. I’d been doing both acting and writing since early childhood and all the way through school. I also performed on a television series from ages 9 through 12. As I entered adulthood, well-meaning people often advised me to let go of one or the other—the acting or the writing, but I needed both. Everything came together for me when I also became a producer.

Two specific things led up to that moment. One was performing a regular role on “Days Of Our Lives,” because I got intrigued with the long form of story telling. In soaps, the story structure is ongoing, and though it’s much more difficult to sustain, it allows for a complexity and for revealing a series of choices and consequences. I found that intriguing.

The other inspiration for my own soap was an invitation from a lovely gentleman who owned a radio station. I spent a summer performing in a two-character play in the town of Cambria, California. This man and his wife came backstage to compliment me and my co-star, and he said, “If you ever want to do something for radio, let me know!” A few months later I called and asked whether he’d be interested in broadcasting a radio soap opera, and he loved the idea. So I began writing scripts and sending them to him. Eventually I found my cast (many from other soaps), found a studio home, and began producing episodes. That’s how my show “Milford-Haven” was born. And after it was a success in a few American markets, it was picked up by the BBC, where it went on to find 4.5 million listeners throughout the U.K.
2. When did the idea to make these novels more than the usual read, close book and move on to the next book?
Since my novels are based on a serial radio drama, I knew from the start there would need to be several books. I also knew my story is character-driven, and that writing this particular story as a series of books was a perfect way of showing character development from choice to choice, event to event.

One of my favorite writers is Charles Dickens. When my sister and I were children, my dad wrote a dramatic adaptation of A Christmas Carol and the whole family performed in the play, with Pere (what we call our dad) playing “Scrooge.” Later I got interested in Dickens other works, and read about his life. He wrote his long novels in installments, which he performed as public readings, and published in magazine format. Later, when the story was complete, the segments were gathered to become whole books. He was probably the first famous serial novelist, and I think in terms of structure, I’m following in his footsteps.

Interestingly, at Book Expo America a couple of years ago Jeff Bozos, CEO of, gave a talk in which he said the new technologies lend themselves to serial novels, and that he expected writers might follow Charles Dickens example. I was in the audience and piped up, “I’m already doing it!” A lot of heads whipped around to see who’d said that!
3. Twelve books take a lot of energy and stamina. Is there someone special who has worked with you on the project?
Yes, stamina is one thing required. Another is a series of documents that accurately track a myriad of details, like: who drives what kind of car; when did Miranda paint which painting; what was the bad guy doing before we first saw him; what color are Zelda’s bedroom walls. . . .

And oh, my, yes, I most certainly have help. I have two close associates who are both additional “memory banks”. For the radio drama, it’s Bill Berkuta, my engineer. We worked together on 100 episodes of Milford-Haven U.S.A., and through the many hours it takes to edit and do post-production for each episode, we heard story details hundreds of times. Now Bill and I work together to create the audio books of the novels. So I can call Bill and we’ll be able to remind one another of important details.

For the novels, it’s Vicki Werkley, my brilliant editor. Vicki and I worked together all the way through the early editions of the first five novels, and her commitment to my series is a solid gold element in the whole project. She has both a logical and an intuitive sense of what’s right or wrong in terms of character, story detail, sequencing, and theme. We’re so excited to be working on the new novels now. We keep saying “This is how the novels are meant to be!” There’s a tremendous sense of fulfillment and satisfaction.
4. And before I ask the real big question. What do you want women to keep remembering long after they have put your book away on their selves?
I want them to remember how important they are, and how valid their intuitions are. The theme of the book is the heart—are we listening to it? Does it have anything valuable to tell us? Can it offer important guidance? I believe that in our busy world we honor mostly the head—that is, logic and “smarts”. I’m all in favor of being smart! But consciousness is more than just logic. It also includes intuition, which is what I mean by the heart.

I’d love for a reader to ask herself—what is it, in my heart of hearts, that I always wanted to do? Am I doing it? If not, why not? And if not now, when?

How does the book instigate these questions? Well, readers can have a very interesting journey by tracking each character’s “heart” journey. Is Miranda listening to her heart? (She’s just beginning to take it seriously. How does that alter her course?) Is Jack listening to his heart? (No, he’s stuffing down his feelings as though he were driving spikes into packed earth.) What about Chris Christian, the journalist who gets in trouble at the very beginning of the story?
Readers can enjoy a first read of What the Heart Knows by just having fun moving through the story and its interconnected plot lines. But they might also enjoy digging deeper into the lives of the characters . . . and perhaps into their own lives too.
5. Someone mentioned a surprise give away. What do you have in mind for us?
It will be my pleasure to give an autographed copy of my new novel as soon as it’s published!

To enter leave a comment  AND then email me at in Re: put Mara Purl Drawing. In the body tell me your posted comment. That's it.

6. And now the biggie. When will you be in North Carolina to promote your book?
Well, if that’s an invitation, I accept! My marketing team and I arrange special Author Tea events. So your group would choose one of our event names: Possibili-Tea, Generosi-Tea, Connective-Tea . . . you choose a theme that matches your interests. Then we get together, enjoy some terrific food and have a real Girlfriend conversation. There’s a Reading Group Guide for What the Heart Knows on the publisher’s website and also at These are great for providing a starting point for discussion.
Thank you for stopping by and here's how the find and contact Mara:
National Award-Winning Author The Milford-Haven Novels

Finally, here is the link to the other blog with more about Mara.
I'd like to thank, Mara for letting me be part of her Blog Tour to spread the word about her work. To my guest readers, did you see the freebe Mara is giving out the month of August? If you missed there is a free read offer in the blog.

Until next time,

Thursday, August 25, 2011

A new Sample Sunday is upon us. This week I decided to use the first chapter of a piece I'm working on. Please, remember this is a little rough around the so called edges. I'd love to hear any feed back you have to offer.

Untitled>Motorcycle gang member story.

There was only one witness to the scene. Strangers would have found the antics of the screaming man humorous. He was hopping up and down while waving his arms wildly. Vile obscenities spilled forth from his lips. Lips that now firmed an ugly menacing sneer.

It didn’t matter how Fred danced or how crude he spoke to the automobile he was standing in front of, it refused to start.

Marching back to the driver side he jerked opened the door, slid in behind the wheel, and gave one last fist slam against the wheel.

“Feel better now?” A soft feminine voice asked. The voice belonged to the only person watching the angry display.

A deep groan emitted from him as he realized the last person on earth he could want to see him act as he did; did just that.

Hoping to recover from what was turning into the worst date ever. He realized trying to salvage this was a lost cause.

“I don’t usually get so riled…It…It was that I was so disappointed to break down and ruin our time together.”

Fred had not bothered to look at Carla when he spoke to her. This gave her the chance to roll her eyes and think. This date was in ruins the minute I broke down and said yes.

Using her sweet voice she said, “No problem, things like this happen. Tomorrow we’ll be laughing about it.”

Almost in a very calm state, Fred retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and searched through his call list for the number of his motor club.

Three @#$!’s Later, he called his brother-in-law.

“Ya, I didn’t mail the payment in early enough. So, can you at least come get us? I’ll make arrangements for the car tomorrow.”

Carla’s eyes began to rolled back into her head again as her lips silently formed her own @#!, when she learned they would have a two hour wait.

With nervous eyes, she looked around. They were in the seedy part of town and the sun was slipping fast behind the mountains in the distant west.

“Fred, maybe we need to walk up to that sign that is flashing, food and eats. It might be safer.”

Safer for you maybe. But what about my car. When he did speak to her, he said. “Maybe you have a point and I am thirsty after all.”

At five thirty in the afternoon, Pete’s Bar & Grill was almost empty. Only one other couple sat inside. They were half hidden sitting in the booth in the corner. They had no problem with the location because that is exactly how the couple wanted it.

The center of the eating area contained four tables each with two chairs. The room was outlined with six booths. Booths that had seen their day. It was easy to tell. Gray duck tape covered more of the seats and back cushions then the original red vinyl.

A dust ridden ceiling fan hung over the four tables and being off balance it made tic-tic sounds as the blades whirled around. Even though the ceiling was ten foot high, not a few people ducked while taking their seats and a few less brave souls moved from the tables to a gray and red booth when they noticed not only the noise but the precariously wobbling unit spinning over head.

“Sit here and I’ll get us a couple a drinks.” Fred said, leaving Carla to choose which side of the booth she’d prefer. She slid in on the side, which put her facing the door.

She turned her head and watched Fred lean against the bar as he talked with man standing behind it. She realized the place was more of an old run down local pub. A pub that seen its hay-day along time ago.

“Two colas please, Pete. “ He said acting as if he was a regular.

“Name ain’t Pete. Pete was here two owners ago. Lucky Pete sold out and took off for Florida. Before anyone knew, the new interstate would kill this part of town. Me, they call me Tots.” The man informed Fred.

It was the disgusted sounding tone in the tired man’s voice that Fred sympathized with.

“On second thought make that one cola and one large beer. What ever you have on tap.”

Fred’s attention was on the cockroach that crawled out from under the bar-mop placed at the end of the bar when he heard the man snicker.

“Got no tap. Cans and bottles only.”

The bartender quickly sizing the man in front of him up. Rushed to say. “I got a local micro-brew a man with your tastes should appreciate.” He turned and leaned into the cooler pulling up a long necked bottle. Popping the cap, he placed it on the counter in front of him. Tot’s smiling and friendly face forgot to tell Fred the beer he was about to drink was eight-fifty a bottle.

He pulled his wallet out and heard Tots said, “Oh no; you can just run a tab.”

“Gee thanks, Tots.” Was mumbled under Fred’s breath as he turned and searched out the booth Carla had chosen.

The people in side the bar heard the noise as the motorcycle rumble came to a stop outside. The screen door squeaked as it was pulled open.

“Here’s your cola. And can you believe it; this dump carries micro-brews. I can really get into this.” Standing in such a way Fred blocked her view and she couldn’t see who entered.

Once he took his seat whoever came in moved to the bar out of her sight. Not realizing she was as thirsty as Fred until the cold sweat covered glass in front of her called her name.

With each swallow of the icy cold drink washed down her throat different emotions, wash through her. The first was disgust. Disgust for her stupidity for agreeing to this date. Disgust for her own lack of courage in saying no after lunch and not agreeing to go for a drive to see the new county court house. Which was three counties away.

Next week the town would be packed with tourists, thrill seekers, and news people when the trial of the century would be taking place there. Thanks to a change of venue from a city in the southern part of the state.

“Now, who cares about a stupid court house?” she muttered under her breath. Answering herself. “Not me, anymore.”

“What? Carla.”

“Huh? Oh, nothing, nothing.” She replied not even lifting her head up to look at him.

Conversation stopped between them two drinks earlier. Now with him having consumed four beers he just glared at her as if everything was her fault.

Carla passed the time by picking at her finger nail polish and she picked all but one finger free of the ice pink polish off. A worrisome look crossed her face realizing once the last finger was clean she have nothing to occupy her attention. This meant she’d have to begin to talk to the man across the table from her.
      "His Fifteenth Victim"
When Brad and Sandra's world crash into each others no one could have predicted the end result. Brad a hired assassin. Sandra the target.

He could not pull the trigger. He needed to discover for himself why. It surprised him to to find he liked the reason why. Maybe a little to much.

Sandra tried to understand why anyone would want her dead. Confusion ran wild as she suffers at the hand's of the man who now claims to be her only mean of salvation. The scariest part is she believes him.

Sandra's journey will take her through the terror of being kidnapped: the pain of her tormenter's lessons: acceptance of how her life will never again be the same.

They will come to understand you can't question where you find love. It's just there.
                                                                                                                  "The  Kincaid Way"
“The Kincaid Way” takes us back to, Paradise. In the year 1889, most of the town's men folk believe every women need training. Even a good woman needs to learn what absolute submission means. The Kincaid men have perfected the method.

Brian Kincaid, sheriff of Paradise, no woman seems able to rekindle that carnal spark, since his wife died almost ten years ago. That was until, Ellen came to town in search of her missing niece. She will not be leaving town. He discovers in her a woman unlike any other he has met. If there is a way to reach inside of her, without destroying her spirit, he will find it.

Ellen Trent, a self-sufficient woman found life hard and forgiving. As an adult no one would tell her what to do say or do. Until she falls into the hands of Brian Kincaid. Determined not to bend to his will. He claims her body and she submits for she can not do anything less. She tries to resist when she realizes he requires she submit more than just her body to him.
                                                        "Mine Alone"
See last weeks Sample for excerpt or other samples for any of these books

 To purchase any of these books here's the link:

                                                And if your in the Uk here:

for the self-published (not professional edited)books on Amazon for only .99 cents:

Thanks for stopping by.

Betty Carlton

Friday, August 19, 2011

"Mine Alone" ebook 8 months on publishers top sellers list

The ebook... Mine Alone still on the publisher's top 5 sellers list 8 months after its release. So, I decided to use it this week to celebrate.

The set up:
It wasn't easy for Charles Kincaid was raised to be a hard man. But even Hard man can be in love and he did love the woman he called Pen Penelope even though she had began to have mixed emotions about the Charles she definitely disliked the way he handled her and demanded total submission to him. The day came that Pen has finally gained Charles trust. Once Charles left the cabin heading for town she was off to reclaim her freedom. She made it to town and the law has been called and so here we pick up. Pen now safe in the sheriff's hands. 


Mine Alone
When the west was wild and a strong arm or a gun ruled.
Charles had both. He also had desires and once he saw Penelope, she was his for the taking. She resented his form of discipline. Only time will allow them to discover how a relationship can change from pain to ecstasy; from lust to love.
Mine Alone is now on sale at Sizzler Editions:
And if your in the Uk here:

I hope you  had a great time visiting Betty's blog. I had a wonderful time preparing for your visit. Please do come next time! 
Betty Carlton

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Yippee!!! It's time for Sample Sunday again. Please enjoy. Without further ado:
The set up:
Brad has began trusting Sandra and has decided to take her shopping. While at the grocery store she decides to escape him and seeks help.
The excerpt:
The nearest superstore was fifty-two miles away. The cart in front of her was half full and the list almost completed. Sandra became aware he left her side. She surveyed the isles she didn't see him anywhere.
Ahead of her was an olderly man. Sandra edged up in his direction. Stilling looking for signs of him--nothing. The mannow was three feet from her.
"Excuse me, I need your help. She pushed her cart in front of his blocking the way.
Repeating,I need your help, I've been...She didn't see him, but she'd bet her life that he stoodcloser than she knew.
"Please, I've been looking for Farina. I don't shop here and can't find the hot cereal.
He gave her the stop bothering me look, but at least he said, Aisle six.
"What was that about? The minute you think I'm not here you start talking to strangers. His eyebrow raised. There was a hint of aggression in his voice.
"Brad, I was looking for something and asked if he knew where it might be."
"Yes, right. She stopped in front of the oatmeal selections and pointed."Please that box right there. At least your handy when shopping for those high shelf items." Sandra teased and poked him in the ribs hoping to deflect his ire.
Back in the van she thanked him.
"Thank you, for the new clothes and sneakers. Maybe we can go walking in the woods if you'll allow it."
The van had an armrest between the seats, which she took advantage of, however, she regretted it when he captured her hand with his. She wiggled a little trying to free her hand from his. The response was that he tightened his grip letting her know he was not going to release her.
The engine roared as he pressed down on the accelerator. They were climbing a steep hill.
He yelled, Sandra.
Alarmed she turned to see what he wanted. He saw it, she didn't. They both suffered the consequences when the rental truck slammed head on into the van while the truck tried to pass a tractor trailer as it came up the other side of the hill. There were no squealing tire sounds as neither had time to react. Brad did jerk the steering wheel a hair to the right hoping to spare her the whole brunt of the hit.
The noise of air jack brakes filled the air as the semi truck slowed to a stop several hundred feet past the scene of mangled metal. He did not bother rushing to the area. There was no way he could help the victims if any survived, which did not look as if any one could have. He opened his cell phone and dialed 911.Climbing down from the cab he set outtwo flares hoping others coming over the hillwould slow down enough to not add themselves to the horrific sight.
This was the country and it took just shy of twenty-sevenminutes for the firstemergency vehicles to arrive. The officer that interviewed Robert Gleason the semi driver was thorough. When Robert asked about the people involved, the officer shook his head and told him it didn't look good. Two dead and the rest where still trapped inside, so he didn't know, but he'd be shocked if anybody survived this one. Once the officer released him from the scene he drove the rest of his three hour trip home with sweaty palms.

SergeantRamseur incident coordinator released the two bodies of both men to the coroner.
The jaws of life pushed apart the distorted metalthat the impact forced together. Inch by inch the progress was slow.
Someone yelled, EMT needed here.”...........
Someone survives but who....? And in what physical condition...?
I'll never tell--but my book will. ON sale now:

Thank you for giving me your time. I know have valuable it is.
I hope  you return next week: same place -same time.
Betty Carlton

Saturday, August 6, 2011



Then  thought I could at least entertain you a bit. If you have a good sense of humor. I think You'll enjoy these:

I'm impressed.How about you?

Think about it!
I can relate. My own car is without and the price to fix it OUCH!. Wonder what this dude would charge?
Mmmm? NO fried chicken?

Is it that fruit or the color they don't know?

I'm sure her husband appreciates it who ever he is.

Another charter school  makes to grade.

An honest cop?

What can you say?

How many times do you think it will take before some one listens?
Thanks hope you enjoyed For more heres the link: enjoy

Hey. Don't go. Thereis  lots of past Sample Sunday you can check so please feel free to do so.
Have a safe weekend,'