Wild at Heart by Gina Hartoog is now available at By Grace. Order your copy today!
Monday, April 28, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Blurb and Excerpt: *Wild at Heart* by Gina Hartoog
Wild at Heart by Gina Hartoog
New York photojournalist Katelyn Hillfox is determined to stay focused on her original assignment to South Africa. But after meeting handsome game ranger, Jacques Kruger, Katelyn knows her heart has a different plan. Her sleuthing instincts kick in when she hears about a spate of burglaries on the reserve. Katelyn starts snooping around and learns that Renprox, an eccentric animal rights organization, may be involved. Her own reputation is at stake when someone paints her as a heartless journalist out for a good story. Suddenly Jacques wants nothing to do with her. Can Katelyn find the truth before she loses him for good?
*******
Camp was deserted. It was after ten o’clock and the night drive guests were back from their outing. Katelyn walked along the path, now familiar with its twists and turns, and stopped to listen to the sounds of the night again. She was used to the owls and the pulsating squeak of the bats high in the trees. The branches above her head rustled. Katelyn pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and walked on.
The cottage was just as she left it but the interior was much darker. The moon had moved over since her last visit and its light did not illuminate the room as it had before. She walked over to the filing cabinets to begin her search. Painstakingly, she looked though each drawer using her sense of touch as a guide. The manila envelopes Janet used were rough to the touch. Each time she felt a different texture, she pulled it into the dim light where a crack of moonlight filtered into the cottage. When the last file was back in place, Katelyn sighed in frustration. Her fruitless search had been a waste of time.
New York photojournalist Katelyn Hillfox is determined to stay focused on her original assignment to South Africa. But after meeting handsome game ranger, Jacques Kruger, Katelyn knows her heart has a different plan. Her sleuthing instincts kick in when she hears about a spate of burglaries on the reserve. Katelyn starts snooping around and learns that Renprox, an eccentric animal rights organization, may be involved. Her own reputation is at stake when someone paints her as a heartless journalist out for a good story. Suddenly Jacques wants nothing to do with her. Can Katelyn find the truth before she loses him for good?
*******
Camp was deserted. It was after ten o’clock and the night drive guests were back from their outing. Katelyn walked along the path, now familiar with its twists and turns, and stopped to listen to the sounds of the night again. She was used to the owls and the pulsating squeak of the bats high in the trees. The branches above her head rustled. Katelyn pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and walked on.
The cottage was just as she left it but the interior was much darker. The moon had moved over since her last visit and its light did not illuminate the room as it had before. She walked over to the filing cabinets to begin her search. Painstakingly, she looked though each drawer using her sense of touch as a guide. The manila envelopes Janet used were rough to the touch. Each time she felt a different texture, she pulled it into the dim light where a crack of moonlight filtered into the cottage. When the last file was back in place, Katelyn sighed in frustration. Her fruitless search had been a waste of time.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Author Essay: Gina Hartoog
It was during one of our annual trips to the Kruger National Park that I got the plot idea for Wild at Heart. I wanted to capture some of South Africa’s incredible wildlife and bushveld areas in a story that could be enjoyed by readers from all over the world. Using a journalist from another country meant that I would need to portray that magic through new eyes. It was a challenge to ‘see’ the places and experiences I’ve known since childhood as though they were completely new.
Just after I started work on the novel, one of my magazine editors went on a business trip to London and the airline lost her luggage. It’s a nightmare we’ve all heard about but rarely experience and I decided to use it in my story for an interesting twist.
Just after I started work on the novel, one of my magazine editors went on a business trip to London and the airline lost her luggage. It’s a nightmare we’ve all heard about but rarely experience and I decided to use it in my story for an interesting twist.
Monday, April 21, 2008
By Grace Publishing Author Bio *Gina Hartoog*
Author Bio *Gina Hartoog*
Gina Hartoog was born in South Africa. She was introduced to books at a young age and was soon captivated by the magic between the pages. After high school, Gina studied photography and journalism. She started her writing career as a journalist where she worked in-house as a sub-editor, features writer and photographer.
After her second daughter was born in 2002, Gina started working freelance from home. This proved a wise decision and she was able to dedicate more time to her fiction writing. Gina regularly contributes to consumer and trade magazines. Her regular columns include topics in the gardening, child care and DIY industries. She has also completed two re-writes of classic Mark Twain stories for a South African publisher. By Grace Publishing will publish her first novel Wild at Heart in April
2008. Gina lives in Johannesburg, South Africa with her husband, Bram and two daughters Shona (9) and Chiara 5. She has just had her third child, a son, in March 2008.
Gina Hartoog was born in South Africa. She was introduced to books at a young age and was soon captivated by the magic between the pages. After high school, Gina studied photography and journalism. She started her writing career as a journalist where she worked in-house as a sub-editor, features writer and photographer.
After her second daughter was born in 2002, Gina started working freelance from home. This proved a wise decision and she was able to dedicate more time to her fiction writing. Gina regularly contributes to consumer and trade magazines. Her regular columns include topics in the gardening, child care and DIY industries. She has also completed two re-writes of classic Mark Twain stories for a South African publisher. By Grace Publishing will publish her first novel Wild at Heart in April
2008. Gina lives in Johannesburg, South Africa with her husband, Bram and two daughters Shona (9) and Chiara 5. She has just had her third child, a son, in March 2008.
Friday, April 18, 2008
It's Available! *His and Hers Dalmatians* by Grace Tyler
*His and Hers Dalmatians* by Grace Tyler
Callie and Hayden James have nothing in common, other than their last names and a pair of Dalmatians. Their relationship was just as volatile after their divorce, so they split up the dogs to maintain the peace. After two years apart, attending the wedding of mutual friends forces Callie and Hayden to see each other again. Can this event lead to a truce and sharing custody of the dogs?
Buy it soon HERE!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Blurb and Excerpt *His and Hers Dalmatians* by Grace Tyler
His and Hers Dalmatians by Grace Tyler
Callie and Hayden James have nothing in common, other than their last names and a pair of Dalmatians. Their relationship was just as volatile after their divorce, so they split up the dogs to maintain the peace. After two years apart, attending the wedding of mutual friends forces Callie and Hayden to see each other again. Can this event lead to a truce and sharing custody of the dogs?
EXCERPT
“Don’t worry about calling your shots,” Hayden said, stepping back.
“All right.” Callie bent over the pool table, holding her cue awkwardly under her left arm. “Help me?”
He groaned mentally. Standing behind her to guide her shot fit in perfectly with his mid-dinner plot of getting her to stay the night. It wasn’t so perfect for his post-dinner resolution of chivalry and self preservation.
He took a step closer, daring no more. Her citrus-clean fragrance tempted him to take another step forward. “Grip the end of the stick lightly.”
“All right.” She loosened her hold on the cue and then propped the stick across the knuckles of her right hand.
“Like this.” He lifted the cue off her table hand. “The stick needs to glide lightly across your skin. This hand is just to steady the stick while you push and aim with your left hand.” He repositioned her cue so that it rested between her right index finger and thumb. “Use your other fingers for stabilization.”
“Now I remember.” She flashed him a brief smile before taking the shot. The cue ball bounced harmlessly off the bumpers. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Come on. Try again.”
Callie walked along the two free sides of the table. The other two sides were hemmed in by the corner of the room. “I’ve got a shot,” she said, taking aim from a new location. “I’m going for the thirteen. Maybe it’ll get into the pocket if I hit it just off center.”
“Remember your table hand is just a guide. The power comes from your shooting arm, so judge how hard you need to hit the ball.”
“Watch thirteen,” she said, sparing a look at him before returning her focus to the table, her short sable hair fanning against her cheek. She pushed the stick forward in practice a couple of times, and then she made her shot. Her aim was true, but she’d hit the cue ball too hard, and the thirteen ball bounced off the rim of the pocket.
“Great shot!” He meant it. She’d never played well when they were dating, but she never let her discouragement show. “You want to go again?”
“No, it’s your turn. I’ll watch and try to pick up some pointers.”
Hayden took his shot, and the cue ball smacked against the three-ball, which tumbled into the right center pocket.
“Go again,” Callie said. “No need to give me extra turns.”
“Practice is the only way to get better,” he protested, but he had lined up his next shot the moment she urged him to take another turn. “Four-ball.” He took one of the short sticks down from the rack and went to the far side of the table next to the wall. “I should have gotten a smaller table,” he lamented. “It would have been easier to play in here.”
“But it wouldn’t have been what you wanted,” she responded.
She seemed to understand him, maybe for the first time. “Right. This was what I wanted.”
Hayden’s shot was true, and number four went directly to the pocket next to Callie on the outside of the table. But it didn’t sink all the way, didn’t rumble down the ball track to the retrieval area. “What’s up with that pocket?” he asked.
She plucked the ball out of the hole. “There’s something stuck in here.” Her hand disappeared into the table, and she started laughing. “You missing something?”
Before he saw what she had found, he knew what it had to be. The unmistakable ring of keys sounded as she jiggled them in his direction. “Who keeps their keys in the pool table?”
Callie and Hayden James have nothing in common, other than their last names and a pair of Dalmatians. Their relationship was just as volatile after their divorce, so they split up the dogs to maintain the peace. After two years apart, attending the wedding of mutual friends forces Callie and Hayden to see each other again. Can this event lead to a truce and sharing custody of the dogs?
EXCERPT
“Don’t worry about calling your shots,” Hayden said, stepping back.
“All right.” Callie bent over the pool table, holding her cue awkwardly under her left arm. “Help me?”
He groaned mentally. Standing behind her to guide her shot fit in perfectly with his mid-dinner plot of getting her to stay the night. It wasn’t so perfect for his post-dinner resolution of chivalry and self preservation.
He took a step closer, daring no more. Her citrus-clean fragrance tempted him to take another step forward. “Grip the end of the stick lightly.”
“All right.” She loosened her hold on the cue and then propped the stick across the knuckles of her right hand.
“Like this.” He lifted the cue off her table hand. “The stick needs to glide lightly across your skin. This hand is just to steady the stick while you push and aim with your left hand.” He repositioned her cue so that it rested between her right index finger and thumb. “Use your other fingers for stabilization.”
“Now I remember.” She flashed him a brief smile before taking the shot. The cue ball bounced harmlessly off the bumpers. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Come on. Try again.”
Callie walked along the two free sides of the table. The other two sides were hemmed in by the corner of the room. “I’ve got a shot,” she said, taking aim from a new location. “I’m going for the thirteen. Maybe it’ll get into the pocket if I hit it just off center.”
“Remember your table hand is just a guide. The power comes from your shooting arm, so judge how hard you need to hit the ball.”
“Watch thirteen,” she said, sparing a look at him before returning her focus to the table, her short sable hair fanning against her cheek. She pushed the stick forward in practice a couple of times, and then she made her shot. Her aim was true, but she’d hit the cue ball too hard, and the thirteen ball bounced off the rim of the pocket.
“Great shot!” He meant it. She’d never played well when they were dating, but she never let her discouragement show. “You want to go again?”
“No, it’s your turn. I’ll watch and try to pick up some pointers.”
Hayden took his shot, and the cue ball smacked against the three-ball, which tumbled into the right center pocket.
“Go again,” Callie said. “No need to give me extra turns.”
“Practice is the only way to get better,” he protested, but he had lined up his next shot the moment she urged him to take another turn. “Four-ball.” He took one of the short sticks down from the rack and went to the far side of the table next to the wall. “I should have gotten a smaller table,” he lamented. “It would have been easier to play in here.”
“But it wouldn’t have been what you wanted,” she responded.
She seemed to understand him, maybe for the first time. “Right. This was what I wanted.”
Hayden’s shot was true, and number four went directly to the pocket next to Callie on the outside of the table. But it didn’t sink all the way, didn’t rumble down the ball track to the retrieval area. “What’s up with that pocket?” he asked.
She plucked the ball out of the hole. “There’s something stuck in here.” Her hand disappeared into the table, and she started laughing. “You missing something?”
Before he saw what she had found, he knew what it had to be. The unmistakable ring of keys sounded as she jiggled them in his direction. “Who keeps their keys in the pool table?”
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