An Interview with Jessica Riley Miller

by Paula Gail Benson

Jessica Riley Miller with husband Chuck Miller at her first signing. (Her short story is in The Big Bad II anthology.)

Jessica and I initially met as members of the Inkplots Writing Critique Group. I’ve always loved Jessica’s wonderfully inventive imagination and intriguing descriptions. We’ve gotten closer as roommates at two Bouchercons and working with others to develop the Palmetto Chapter of Sisters in Crime, which will virtually host its Mystery in the Midlands conference on Saturday, July 25, 2020, with Jessica’s fav Charlaine Harris as guest of honor.

This week, Jessica debuts her paranormal series with a novella followed by rapid release of three novels during late summer and fall. It’s an amazing publishing journey, but I’m not surprised. Jessica has always exhibited the drive, will power, organizational skills, and writing craft to balance teaching, marriage, motherhood, and authorship. I hope you’ll take the time to discover her work. I promise you’ll be delighted!

Jessica, thanks for joining us at The Stiletto Gang!

Tell us about yourself and why you wanted to be an author.

Sometimes you pick your passions, and sometimes your passions pick you. I’ve always loved stories, especially mysteries, so writing feels kind of inevitable.

What is your series about and who is the main character?

They are supernatural mysteries in the tradition of Charlaine Harris’s True Blood series and Karen Marie Moning’s Faefever series, with heavy doses of romance and the unexpected.

In the novella, Jade’s obsessed with reading conspiracy theory tabloids, the more outrageous the better. To the amusement of her friends, she finds them a comforting escape from her every day worries. It only makes sense when she accepts an internship at the best tabloid around, believing it will give her a carefree summer.

Unfortunately, any illusion of comfort vanishes when Anthony, an attractive young lawyer, enlists her help. He claims the tabloid’s keeping a dark secret that threatens his job. When Jade starts investigating, she learns the paper isn’t an escape from the truth at all. Suddenly, her normal life becomes eclipsed by the paranormal.

But knowing the tabloid’s secrets make her position vulnerable, and suddenly it isn’t just Anthony’s livelihood at risk. Her life is too.

The rest of the series picks up from her best friend Maggie’s perspective, ten years later.

Your series is independently published. What made you decide to take that step?

Jade's story--to be released this week!

My answer here actually starts with a conflict, as all good stories do:

This series is the main reason my fantastic literary agent and I parted ways. She was interested in a different kind of story from me, but I couldn’t let this series go.

The characters kept speaking to me, and I needed to get the drama out of my head and onto the page. It was almost compulsive. I have seven other manuscripts, several of which I will return to, but I had to get this series out into the world. By choosing indie publishing, I am able to obsess over the stories I can’t let go.

I’m also able to release them on my own schedule. I’ve been working on them for years, mainly at 5 am, or in the car, or on Saturday afternoons—and now, I’m ready to share them.

Plus, I’ve been able to build my own team. That’s been an unexpected bit of awesomeness. I adore my editor. I’m fanatical over my cover artist. They are my people, and I picked them—they do excellent, flattering work for me and my stories, making me look much better than I could on my own.

Why are you beginning with a novella, then rapidly releasing several novels?

I’m appealing to binge-watching culture, really. There’s nothing I enjoy more than diving into a world that I can splash around in, so I’m trying to give that to my readers. Come on in, stay awhile, the water’s fine.

Plus, I want to make sure readers are getting the experience they want. That’s why I’m releasing my novella first, for free. Check this out, see if you like it. If you do, I’ve got all these other books coming. If this isn’t your thing, high five and have a great day. Nothing’s lost on either side.

What has been your greatest challenge and greatest delight in writing and producing this series?

My greatest challenge has been scraping out the time I need to dream and write and work on the ever-important author platform. I’ve got a full time job, a wonderful husband, and a darling one-year-old. While I’m fortunate to have a full family life and a job I like, there are only so many hours in a day, you know?

My greatest delight has been the dreaming, or what some folks call plotting. My daydreams become reality on the page, as characters move through mazes I’ve created, solving their mysteries and unearthing secrets as old as the world. It’s empowering and fun. I love that part.

What’s next? Will this character or the world you’ve created appear in other books or stories?

Ha! I’m laughing because there’s so much more where this came from. So, this novella is Jade’s story. The next few books are Maggie’s story (Jade’s best friend), and she’s got at least three books worth of drama, y’all. One of her love interests, Adam, has a short story already written. I’ll give that to my newsletter subscribers for free later this year. I also have a tie-in series with the first book already written. I’m excited about that one. It takes place on the beach in Florida and starts with a faerie on the run. It could be looking at a 2021 release.

Thank you, Jessica, for being with us! Best wishes on all your upcoming releases. May your stories reach a wide audience and be thoroughly enjoyed!

Jessica with her precious daughter Marlowe, who already loves books!

Short Bio: You will often find Jessica Riley Miller behind a stack of books. However, she won’t stay hidden for long as her voice (ahem) carries. Jessica’s been writing stories for over a decade. In her spare time, she works with some of the best people in the world: English teachers. She lives in the land of South Carolina, somewhere between Westeros and 221B Baker Street. Her husband, daughter, and tiny elfin dog provide constant amusement and inspiration. Check out her website or sign up for her newsletter at www.jessicarileymiller.com.

Stiletto Heels, a Witch and a Deadly Dinner--TK Thorne

   Writer, humanist,

          dog-mom, horse servant and cat-slave,

       Lover of solitude

          and the company of good friends,

        New places, new ideas

           and old wisdom.

I love the idea of vicariously wearing stiletto heels because that is the only way that will ever happen!  What Rose Brighton discovers, however, is they might very well be good for something else.

Rose is a police officer who discovers she’s a witch of House of Rose. She’s received an invitation to dinner from a devastatingly handsome man, a warlock of another House of Iron. All she knows is that someone from his House has been trying to kill her and wipe out her family.

So, of course, she goes—

The Club (pronounced with emphasis on “The”) is a private dinner club atop Red Mountain overlooking the city. Very posh. I wear my black dress and a pair of heels I bought, which are killing me. How do women walk in these things? I let the valet park the car, because I don’t think I could make it all the way across the parking lot.

In spite of the fact that she is dead, I can hear Aunt Alice in my head protesting how dangerous it is to meet Jason Blackwell anywhere. I wonder if any of my family members were prone to do dangerous or impulsive things. If so, I inherited it, and it’s not my fault, right? Besides, I’ve got to have info, and I’m not going to get any sitting on my butt.

So, for the sake of gaining intelligence about House of Iron, which I know nothing about, I am practically standing on my toes trying not to fall on my face. My sympathies to the Chinese girls whose feet were bound in ancient times to keep them small for the aesthetic taste of Chinese men. Thinking about that horrid practice makes me angry. Why am I torturing myself on these stilts for the pleasure of men?

By the time I make it to the private dining room, I’m scowling.

“Ciao, Rose!” Jason Blackwell greets me, rising from his chair at a table by the expansive window. “You are beautiful even when you look ready to eat the first person in your path.”

“I look like that?”

“Indeed.”

“It’s the shoes.”

“Ah.” He pulls out my chair, and I sit . . . gratefully.

A bottle of wine chills in a bowl on a small stand by the table. I’ve seen setups like this in movies, but this is way out of my comfort zone. Jason gestures at the wine. “I took the liberty of ordering. It’s a fine year. Would you like to try it?”

“Yes.”

He lifts a finger and a waiter I didn’t even see glides to our table and opens the bottle, pouring a small amount in Jason’s glass. It would be nice to have a touch of James Bond sophistication with wine at this point, but I can see it’s a French white from the label, and that’s about the extent of my wine knowledge. Fortunately, Jason seems at home with the requirements and takes a sip, savoring it on his tongue for a moment before nodding assent at the waiter, who pours my glass first, then his. I watch all this with fascination, and because I am afraid to look at my date. He almost hurts the eyes.

Suddenly Becca’s voice is in my head: Oh my God, Rose. Does he have a brother?

That breaks the spell and I smile. Thank you, Becca.

“So, has anyone tried to kill you lately?” Jason asks, turning his attention to me.

I laugh and chastise myself for being so easily charmed. This man, I remind myself, may have lived a lot longer than I, despite his youthful looks.

“Actually, I have managed to outwit a sniper since we last saw each other.”

His face, which I am now watching carefully, hardens. “I didn’t know that. He missed, I assume.”

“How do you know it was a ‘he’?”

Now it is his turn to laugh. “Be easy, detective. I do not know that. It was a chauvinistic guess.”

The waiter sets down a basket that smells heavenly. Jason folds back the white linen to reveal the warm breads inside. “You must try an orange roll, house specialty.”

I bite into it and close my eyes. After I swallow, my tongue finds the bits of crystalized sugar on my lips.

Jason clears his throat. “I’m not sure if I wish to eat or simply watch you eat.”

I open my eyes, my earlobes burning, and snatch at the menu.

I order fish, and he orders lamb. Appropriate. I feel like a lamb stalked by a wolf and wonder if I used enough deodorant to last through dinner.

Jason’s gaze drifts to the huge window that looks down into the valley. “It is a beautiful view, isn’t it?” Below us, the lights gleam like multicolored gems.

“It is.”

“Sometimes,” Jason says, “when I cannot sleep, I look down on this from my bedroom window.”

Warning bells ding in my head. This personal revelation is a bit of intimacy meant to make himself appear more human, a little bait thrown out to gain my sympathy.

 I can play the game as long as I know there is a hook beneath the bait . . . right?

“You have trouble sleeping?” I ask.

“More often than I’d like.”

I wonder what his nightmares are about.

I take another swallow of wine and decide it is time to stop flitting around. “I have a question.”

He arches a brow.

“Who is trying to kill me?” I ask.

For a swiftly passing moment, his face tightens. Anger? Then the lines smooth and he considers me.

“I do not know.”

“You have no idea?”

“No.”

Was there the slightest hesitation before that answer? He takes my hand and lightly rubs a thumb down the inside of my wrist. My pulse jumps. ‘Jump’ is the wrong word, more like catapults.

. . . I take a deep swallow of wine and feel it burning into my chest. “Are we going to have an honest discussion?”

His mouth crooks again. “That would be novel.”

“Answer the question,” I demand.

“Yes. Yes, we are going to have an honest discussion.” He is amused again, which is irritating.

“You know more about who might have tried to kill me than you are telling me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m a detective, remember?”

“I think you are prejudiced against the House of Iron.”

“Maybe.”

He leans back. “I honestly don’t know. At times I’ve thought it could be someone in my House, but I’ve no proof of any kind. Most of my youth was spent in Italy where my father had a villa and a mistress. After his death, I remained there. It is still my primary residence.”

“So who comes to mind when you think that?”

“Let us not play this game. I have no knowledge that my family is involved. If I ever have, I will tell you. I find I have a desire to keep you alive.  Frutti proibiti sono i più dolci.”

“Which means?”

“Forbidden fruit is the sweetest.”

My ears burn again. “Is that a promise, Mr. Blackwell?”

“It is a promise.” He smiles. “Enough of that. Now, let’s talk about you.”

My defenses rear up. “What about me?”

“I take it you are not a social butterfly.”

“Was it the shoes thing?”

He laughs. “In part. You are intriguing, Miss Brighton, though forbidden fruit.”

I sip my own wine. “Forbidden? In what way?”

“House of Iron and House of Rose never . . . intermingle.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Let us call it a strong cultural tradition. Both Houses must marry outsiders.”

His reaction makes me suspect this prohibition is more along the lines of prejudice, and my jaw tightens. “Them” and “us” exist even among the witches and warlocks.

. . .Our food comes at that moment. It is beautifully presented, with a small sprig of cilantro and a lemon wedge cut artfully in a spiral design, and I realize I’m starving. While he talks, I eat, feeling his eyes on me again. I want to believe he had nothing to do with my family’s murder. I can’t explain why. I just do. Maybe because his eyes are so blue.

When our plates are whisked away, I excuse myself from the table to powder my nose and wobble my way down the hall. “If I ever try to wear heels again, just shoot me,” I mumble aloud.

A platinum-haired lady exiting the women’s restroom gives me an odd glance. I smile and point to my ear. She sniffs in disapproval of the concept of people talking on invisible phones in public and walks on with her nose in the air.

Once inside, the first thing I do is kick off the shoes, sit on the toilet seat and rub my arches. I linger just long enough to give my feet a reprieve, wash my hands, and reapply lip gloss. Lipstick requires far too much aim and control. My hair is curling wildly from the moisture outside, but there’s not much I can do about that. I wash my hands and dry them in the curls, a temporary taming technique. Reluctantly, I slip the heels back on.

In the hall, a girl with freckled skin and bony elbows steps carefully around the corner, balancing a tray of glasses. Unbeckoned, a surge of living-green sweeps into me. The girl freezes, and a shadow girl steps ahead of her, slightly out of focus, moving in my direction. I am seeing the future, moments from now.

A portly shadow man exits the men’s room, which is next to the women’s room where I stand, and bumps into the girl, spilling her tray. He turns on her, angry and wobbly, probably drunk. I can’t hear anything he says to her, but it isn’t necessary. The slump of her shoulders reflects his abuse. The whole thing fades, and the girl in my universe or time-line resumes walking toward me.

Without thinking about it, I step to the men’s room and lean against the door. Someone on the other side pushes to get out, but I set my weight into it.

“What the hell?” he slurs from inside.

When the waitress is safely past, I move away from the door, and it bursts open. The man staggers out like carbonated foam pent up in a can. At that moment, the headache that seems associated with seeing into the future hits me, and I just happen to step on his foot with my heel. “Oh, I am so sorry,” I say and leave him cursing and limping in a circle.

These shoes might be good for something, after all.

Click HERE to preorder on Amazon

Click HERE to preorder on BarnesandNoble.com

A retired police captain, T.K. has written two award-winning historical novels, NOAH'S WIFE and ANGELS AT THE GATE, filling in the untold backstories of extraordinary, yet unnamed women—the wives of Noah and Lot—in two of the world’s most famous sagas. The New York Post’s “Books You Should Be Reading” list featured her first non-fiction book, LAST CHANCE FOR JUSTICE, which details the investigators’ behind-the-scenes stories of the 1963 Birmingham church bombing case. Coming in November: HOUSE OF ROSE, the first of a trilogy in the paranormal-crime genre. 

She loves traveling and speaking about her books and life lessons. T.K. writes at her mountaintop home near Birmingham, Alabama, often with two dogs and a cat vying for her lap. More info at TKThorne.com. Join her private newsletter email list and receive a two free short stories at “TK’s Korner.”

Writers' Lessons from Paranormal or Supernatural Holiday Stories

Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life

by Paula Gail Benson

I watched It’s a Wonderful Life when NBC broadcast it earlier this year. Letting myself get caught up in George Bailey’s story and Clarence Oddbody’s struggle to get his wings, I began to think about how some of our most memorable holiday stories involve a supernatural or paranormal element. Consider Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Where would Scrooge have been without those ghosts? Even Miracle on 34^th Street showcases Santa’s, or Kris Kringle’s, magical capabilities.

What is it about Christmas that brings makes us ponder the world beyond that we do not know and only through religious texts, unique circumstances, and fiction catch a glimpse? Does this preoccupation stem from the fact that during this cold time of year, memories of the past draw close? Or, does the nativity story give us the courage to ponder how humans may connect with God, angels, and dearly departed who may be looking out for us?

A Christmas Carol (1938 film)

In all three of the Christmas stories I mentioned, the supernatural or paranormal creatures have the power to show humans what they may have been unable to see. For George, how the world might have been if he weren’t born. For Scrooge, how his actions had and could influence others. And, for Susie and her mother, how believing, even if you’re not certain, can help you lead a happier, more fulfilled life.

Often, when writers think about creating paranormal creatures, we consider allowing them to swoop in and rescue humans, like super heroes. But, in these Christmas stories, that doesn’t occur. A reader might wonder why Clarence doesn’t ask Gabriel if he can tell George that Mr. Potter has the missing money. In 1986, Saturday Night Live featured a sketch introduced by William Shatner, who said the lost ending for It’s a Wonderful Life had been discovered. Phil Hartman, playing Uncle Billy, remembers where he left the $8,000 and learns from Clarence at the bank that Potter made a deposit in that amount. George (Dana Carvey) and the crowd gathered at his house become an angry mob, hunting down Potter (Jon Lovitz) and beating him to a pulp. It’s just wasn’t the same as Clarence taking his lead from George’s suggestion and by example showing him no man who has friends can be a failure.

I decided to do some background research on the story, “The Greatest Gift” by Phillip Van Doren Stern, that became the basis for It’s a Wonderful Life. According to Wikipedia, Stern was an editor and author of books about the Civil War that have been described as authoritative and respected by scholars. In 1938, he woke from a dream that inspired his 4,000 word short story, which he completed in 1943. When he could not find a publisher, he sent it around in 200 Christmas cards. Eventually, it was published and came to the attention of RKO Pictures, which optioned it due to Cary Grant’s interest in playing George Bailey. Later, Frank Capra acquired the rights and the role went to James Stewart. I found a copy of “The Greatest Gift” available through Amazon. One of the reviewers pointed out that the names of the characters in that story weren’t the same as those “in the original” movie. I guess writers whose work has been adapted for the screen have been facing that criticism a long time.

Speaking of Cary Grant, he later played, not the struggling human, but the divine intervenor in The Bishop’s Wife (a role reprised by Denzel Washington in The Preacher’s Wife). In that story, Grant’s angel, named Dudley, created more havoc for the humans, but in the end, found he had to allow them to make their own decisions, even though he had fallen in love with Julia (Loretta Young), the Bishop’s (David Niven) wife.

So, in remembering these holiday stories with paranormal elements and considering how they were constructed and created, what have I learned as a writer? Here are my thoughts:

Miracle on 34th Street

(1) Successful movie adaptations often receive more credit than the original source.

(2) A ghost, an angel, or even Santa can never “fix’ a human’s problem, only help the human find his or her way.

(3) Even if a lesson is hard learned, humans are invariably better off by allowing some of the mystical qualities of the season to transform them.

Here’s wishing each of you a wonderful holiday and a new year of happy writing!