Friday, October 26, 2012

Has Marilyn Baron crossed over to the DARK side?

Halloween is creeping up on us. So beware. The Halloween holiday is a perfect time to celebrate my latest release, “Dead Mix.” My writing does not usually trend toward the dark side. In fact, I’ve had three short stories about angels (A Choir of Angels, Follow an Angel and The Stand-in Bridegroom) published by TWB Press and my publisher calls me the Angel Whisperer. He even created a special Angel Whisperer video for me, which you can view on his site. So what’s happened? Am I disillusioned? Depressed? Focused on death? Not really. A little devilishness has surfaced from my subconscious. And I kind of like it. Spooky…

In my new e-short story, Dead Mix,, the devil goes down to Georgia. Roswell, Georgia, and more specifically, The Lion’s Den music store. Enter at your own risk. The proprietor there, Devlin Burns, specializes in mixing music to die for...on CDs that are guaranteed to knock you dead by the final note. As the citizens of Roswell go missing, one man, Daniel Craig, ventures into town on the hunt for lost souls, a search that will change his life, forever.

In romance, a HEA ending is required and Dead Mix is no exception. The hero and heroine do get their happy ending. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But the road to (well you know) is not paved with good intentions and the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know. By that I mean you don’t really know who you’re dealing with in Dead Mix, a higher power or a bottom feeder. But don’t worry. Dead Mix has my trademark humor, surprise ending, and yes, a happy ending, after all.  I hope you’ll give Dead Mix a spin.

On a recent trip to Colorado, I was definitely in devil-mode, staying up all night, dreaming up my next short story, “The Files That Death Forgot,” which has not yet been published. I already have an angel trilogy—and bad things come in threes—so I feel sure I will complete my Angels & Demons cycle with a third dark short story.

In “Under the Moon Gate,” my latest novel, a romantic thriller set in modern day and WW II Bermuda, which will be released from The Wild Rose Press in spring of 2013, one of my central characters wrestles with his very dark side and has to decide if he’ll give up his mission for love.

What about you? Does your dark side come out when you write?  Or only when the moon is full?

Georgia Author Marilyn Baron, a public relations consultant in Atlanta, writes humorous women’s fiction, humorous paranormal short stories and romantic suspense. Marilyn’s short stories “A Choir of Angels,” “Follow an Angel,” “The Stand-in Bridegroom,” and “Dead Mix,” can be found at TWB Press at

Her women’s fiction, The Edger, coauthored with her sister, Sharon Goldman, is available at Barnes & Noble and Smashwords links at RT Book Reviews gave The Edger a 4/12-star rating in their September 2012 issue.  The Edger also received first place in the Suspense Romance category of the 2010 Ignite the Flame Contest, sponsored by the Central Ohio Fiction Writers chapter of Romance Writers of America. Her next book, “Under the Moon Gate,” a romantic thriller set in contemporary and WW II Bermuda, will be released from The Wild Rose Press in spring 2013.

She blogs at Petit Fours and Hot Tamales at

Her novel Sixth Sense finaled in the Georgia Romance Writers 2012 Unpublished Maggie Award for Excellence in the Paranormal/Fantasy Romance category. Marilyn is a member of Georgia Romance Writers, Romance Writers of America and Marketing For Romance Writers.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Another peek for a Sunday treat!

Faolan scrubbed his hands against the evening stubble of his chin.  “This is insanity!” he groaned.   His self-control ebbed away like the tides from the pull of the moon.  This golden-eyed seductress that had landed in his midst had to be some sort of trap.  He reeled and shook his fist in Maxwell’s face, just inches from his friend’s nose.  “Bed her?  Do ye really think by lying with the woman I’ll be able to get her out of my mind?”

Maxwell followed close behind Faolan as soon as he jerked back around to renew his pacing.  “Think about it, Faolan.  Ye’ve been attracted to fair maids before and once ye tasted them, ye easily set them aside.  It’s the wolf in ye, man!  Your thrill is in the hunt.  Ye always want what ye have yet to catch.”

At Maxwell’s observation, Faolan pulled up short.  He whirled back around where he found himself once more nose to nose with his adamant friend.  “Ye actually think if I relent and lie with Ciara and assert my rights as her husband; ye actually think I’ll be able to put her aside and go on with my life as though I never met her?”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Maxwell tossed his hands in the air.  “It’s either lie with the woman or don’t lie with the woman.  Which is it going to be?  So far, ye havena bedded the lass and ye already know ye’re miserable.  In my mind, ‘tis time to test the other option to see if it brings ye any better results.”

“I will kill ye if this doesna work,” Faolan growled, yanking open the door leading down from the battlements.

The Highlander’s Fury – available now from these places:

Friday, October 5, 2012

The dark side of a child's prayer...

Monsters don’t just live in closets. Or in the movies. Or under the bed. Sometimes they look just like you and me. They even trick other unsuspecting adults into believing they’re wonderful people.

When these monsters prey on their children, they scar the child forever. They even distort something as simple as a child’s bedtime prayer into something dark and filled with desperation.

Now I lay me down to sleep:

If I stay real still with my eyes closed tight, maybe they’ll leave me alone for just a little longer. I wish my blanket hadn’t slipped away but I don’t dare pull it back over my shoulders. If they hear me move, they’ll know I’m awake.

I hear him. His steps sound heavy. He’s bringing the bucket of water and ice. It splashes on the floor as my bedroom door bangs open. I squeeze my eyes tighter shut. I can’t move. There’s no place to hide and it will only make him worse. The cold water makes me gasp. It hurts but not as bad as the sharp ice.

“Get out of bed,” he shouts. “We have to cut wood today. You’re going to help and you’re going to like it.” He whacks the bucket against the door facing as I slide across the wet floor. “Get this mess cleaned up before you come to the kitchen and don’t even think about telling your grandparents. They already know how lazy you are.”

I can’t wait for Monday. I get to go back to school.

I pray the Lord my soul to keep:

My parents said I was the worst thing that ever happened to them, the biggest disappointment of their lives. God won’t want my soul. I’m not good enough.

If I die before I wake:

Sometimes I think it would be better to die. At least that way, they can’t get me anymore. But the preacher said when we die; we all meet up in Heaven. They’re mean to me. I don’t want to see them when we’re all dead. The preacher’s eternity sounds like a long time for them to treat me bad.

I pray the Lord my soul to take:

No. I don’t want the Lord to take my soul. He can take them and just leave me someplace else. I’d rather be alone.