What goes into creating an author’s world? In the case of Storm Lake, it’s personal…
When I was two, my parents took me to a 4th of July fireworks celebration in DC where I grew up. We left early. My father thought that was where my fear of storms began.
Fast forward to my first month in the South, when Mississippi suffered a record breaking tornado outbreak. Tornados were “walking the interstate” about a half mile from my apartment. I looked out my window in the dark, listening to the wind, asking myself, “Is that a train?” and wondering what kind of train noise I was supposed to recognize, the whistle or the clackety-clack of the wheels on the rails. It was horrifying.
Forward again to a town on the Mississippi River when I was performing in a bar on the top floor of a hotel overlooking the river, next to a wall of floor to ceiling windows as low gray clouds skidded past. In the middle of a Bonnie Raitt song with six couples hanging on every note and lyric, lightning struck a transformer across the river and light exploded through the room like a nuclear blast. The next thing I knew I was crawling across the carpet in my slinky black dress, my guitar was on the floor, my belt in a customer’s lap and the bartender was telling someone downstairs that the singer was having a nervous breakdown.
After a layoff in 2005, I decided to start writing my stories down. Each was set in a small town near a large lake in the South, possibly South Carolina. Then, Katrina hit here followed by Rita, and the following year when I was delivering the mail as a rural carrier, Gustav. That’s when my Rural Carrier Mystery/ Romance became a story about a storm witch/mail carrier who controls the weather, and Storm Lake was born. It’s rather cathartic for me to have a character who can control that which I fear, severe weather, and especially lightning 😉
Whether it’s Contemporary Romance on the east end or Cozy Paranormal on the west… dive in to Storm Lake… you won’t want to leave.
On the west side of Storm Lake in the middle of a super pulse of leylines lies Destiny, home to the Destiny Paramortals, a group of tempestaeries, fae, djnn, and others who are bound by an ancient pact to protect weaker species – like humans. Unknown to the other communities outside of Destiny is the role the Paramortals have in keeping them safe.
Here’s a small spotlight on Cry Me A River (book two)
As the Paramoon approaches, time is running out for River, and the attraction that was growing between me and Sheriff Jack Lang derailed after he got his first glimpse of my Paramortal “talents” – a few measly bolts of lightning aimed at his—in his general direction. In the course of the investigation we’ve gone from attraction to suspicion, support to friendship, romance to oh-my-god-get-away-from-me revulsion. Jack says he wants to know “everything”. After we answer all his questions, he’ll either join us or grab his daughter and take the first jet out of Middle Earth.
He might help me save my brother and discover the whereabouts of my parents, but he probably won’t still want to take me to the Mardi Gras ball, once he knows “everything”. There’s a lot of “everything”.
I asked Montana if she’d seen Aurora.
“She’s over there. Sitting next to Jane.”
Across the room, dressed in the gaudiest multicolored outfit I’d ever seen, was Jane. It was styled strictly to grab attention.
“That getup came straight out of the circus.”
Aurora sat at the other end, plain midnight cloth stretched over the table. She was dressed in her usual understated elegance. For the ball it was a shimmering pearlescent shift, two matching crystals dangling from her ears to touch her shoulder blades, her long black and silver hair loose and flowing, and only the amulet as decoration. The contrast between the two “fortune tellers” couldn’t have been more stark.
Aurora sent me a smile, the corner of her mouth turned up as if to say, I can’t believe I’m doing this. We knew that if not for a great cause, one near and dear to Montana’s heart, she wouldn’t have been caught dead this close to Jane Fortune. To her left in front of a backdrop of glittering stars, crescent moons and happy suns was Jane, two hundred and thirty pounds squished into a five-foot frame.
Jane’s dark hair was covered in a purple velvet and gold paisley turban with a green stone pasted in the center of her forehead. She’d used eyeliner from her bottom lids nearly to her eyebrows making her eyes appear to be empty black holes. Her caftan was cheap purple taffeta and Jane had pulled the crisscrossed ties until the fleshy mounds of her chest threatened to tear the fabric. She had honed her craft, and was armed with all of her standard psychic paraphernalia on hand—oversized tarot cards, a tray of candles, a green “gazing ball” identical to one I’d seen in the garden section at Walmart.
Her throat, ears and fingers were adorned with so much jewelry it was a wonder she could sit upright. Besides her name, two other obvious “tells” spoke of her charlatan status, the most visible, the line of mismatched fan bulbs encircling the poster of sun, moon and stars on the panel behind her. Most telling, the tiny red flame flickering from within the gazing ball, in the silhouette of a Christmas candle, complete with an electric cord that ran from the ball to the wall.
Yeah. Very mystical.
I looked down at the nameplate in front of Jane. “Look.” I pointed to the table label. Montana snickered.
Jane’s hand-printed card read: Have your Fortune told by a real Psycho.
Buy Links: Available at all book retailers
Get buy links here http://liviaquinn.com/books.html
Merry Christmas, Baby https://amazon.com/dp/B01922WCB6
Storm Warning http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B016TQFRJW
Storm Crazy http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00L02VHE0
Cry Me a River http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00O2I8X8M
Eve of Chaos https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00Q39GBS2
Blame it on the Moon http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B012X9HWJC
Author Central http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00KPDXXE2
Hi, I’m Livia Quinn. With a life long fascination (read that:phobia) of storms, and living in Louisiana where severe weather is a part of life, it was only natural that it would play a big part in my world. The farther east you go the more weather you see and the less paranormal the stories are. But that doesn’t mean there’s no magic. What would life be like without a little magic?
Visit the world of Storm Lake on my website and view a glossary of terms, character list, map and a tourism brochure. But please note: Storm Lake exists only in my fertile mind.
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