Today we are hosting Ane Mulligan, whose tagline reads: Southern Fried Fiction. She has a great story to tell, and she’s included the first page of her book to tease us.
Readers, stay tuned for a giveaway that Ane is offering at the end of her blog. If you’d like to enter, please leave a comment with your email address. We will make a random drawing from all entries.
Ane, tell us a little about yourself.
Do you have a dedicated place to write, or a nook or corner of a room, or the kitchen table?
After writing in a corner of the master bedroom for ten years, I now have a dedicated office that I love. You can always tell if I’m in the middle of a project, because then it’s a disaster. But the minute I write “the end” it gets a good cleaning. I have a beautiful Queen Anne (who else?) desk where I edit and a recliner when I write.
What can readers who like your work do to help make it successful?
I love this question! They can post reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, The Book Club Network. They can tell their friends about my books. Word of mouth is the best sales tool. If they have a book club, recommend my books and tell the leader I love to talk to book clubs. I have one of my own. I can Skype, FaceTime, or drive if they’re within 100 miles.
Tell us about your next book & when is it being published? Why do you write the kind of books you do?
The next book, Home to Chapel Springs, releases in May, 2016. That story is very close to my heart. It’s about a woman who finds her birth family. You see, I found my birth sisters in 2009. I’d always known I was adopted and had an idyllic childhood. My adopted brother was great, but I always wanted sisters. You can read all about it on my website under My Adoption Story.
I’ve had some girlfriends since early childhood. We grew up together, got married and had our children together. I’ve made new friends in adulthood who are very special to me. I adore my girlfriends. We have such good times together. To me, there is nothing more fun than a girls’ road trip!
Friendships and family relationships are what I write about. They’re what I love and what I know. Each book I’ve written has something of me or my life in it. They also contain a healthy dose of humor. I see life through a funny lens. My husband is in each of my Chapel Springs series. He paints the cover art in oils. Then my publisher receives a special photo of it to turn into the cover.
I love to hear best friend stories. Do you have a special memory of your best friend?
Thank you for allowing me to share with your readers. I’d love to give away a copy of my book, either print or e-book (e-book if it’s outside the U.S.). The back cover copy for Chapel Springs Survival, Book II in the Chapel Springs series is:
A mail-order bride, a town overrun with tourists, and illegal art. How on earth will Claire and Chapel Springs survive?
Claire Bennett’s Operation Marriage Revival succeeded and life is good. That is until the mayor’s brother blabs a secret: Claire’s nineteen-year-old son has married a Brazilian mail order bride. When Claire tries to welcome her, she’s ridiculed, rebuffed, and rejected. Loving this girl is like hugging a prickly cactus.
Lydia Smith is happily living alone and running her spa—then the widow on the hill becomes a blushing bride. Then her groom’s adult son moves in—on everything.
From the first sighting of a country music star in The Painted Loon, Chapel Springs is inundated with stargazers, causing residents to flee the area. When her best friends put their house on the market, Claire is forced to do something or lose the closest thing to a sister she’s got. With her son’s future at stake and the town’s problems to solve, it’s Claire’s who needs a guardian angel.
Like a shot pinball, Claire Bennett pinged against, around and between hordes of straw hats, bikinis, and plaid shorts. All along Sandy Shores Drive, shoulder-to-shoulder throngs of people crowded the sidewalk and spilled into the avenue. A party atmosphere—with noise level to match—permeated the quiet morning and their once peaceful village.
What had they done? When she and her friends envisioned the revitalization of Chapel Springs, it was a nice, controlled rise in tourist trade—not this craziness.
One bruised elbow later, Claire reached the door of her art gallery, The Painted Loon, and turned her key in the lock. A heavy hand grasped her shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat. Was she about to be robbed?
Hold on. In broad daylight? With this crowd watching? She may not be the brightest color on the palette, but she did possess a little common sense. Her gaze traveled up the beefy arm clutching her shoulder to a scraggly-bearded face with beady eyes. A rolled red bandana wrapped around his forehead, held back salt-and-pepper hair. Beside him stood a bleached-blonde motorcycle mama, dressed in a halter-top and the skimpiest shorts Claire had ever seen. Strings hung from their ragged edges, drawing attention to the lumpy cellulite dotting the back of her thighs. Who was this woman trying to kid? She was fifty if she was a day.
“You’re the loon lady,” Motor-mama said. “We want to see your pots.” They tried to shoulder their way into the gallery, but Claire stood her ground.
“I’m sorry, we aren’t open yet. Please come back at ten.” She threw the deadbolt, pulled down the window shade, then leaned her back against the door and drew in air. The familiar scent of lemon oil-rubbed wood with the ever-present, underlying twang of turpentine wrapped around her like a hug.