Debra Goldstein

One of the tropes in cozy mysteries is a furry pet, likely a cat or a dog. More often than not, the animal appears on the cover, signaling to the reader that there’s a feel-good story inside about a kind person, and no animals will be harmed. (But a human will probably die.) Sometimes the […]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m an author. I’m also an editor, as well as the owner of the independent publishing imprint, Superior Shores Press (SSP). Part of what I publish under the SSP umbrella, beyond my own work, are multi-author anthologies. Number five, Midnight Schemers & Daydream Believers: 22 Stories of

Hi, I’m Lexi, and I write fantasy and southern-fried paranormal romance set in Alabama. While there is no right or wrong way to write, here are a few odd things about my so-called process: Supernatural oddities: In book one of the demon hunting series, Demon Hunting in Dixie, there is a talking dog and a

As writers we want to tell compelling stories to keep readers turning the pages. One way to do that is to use universal themes to connect emotionally. Whether your primary story is violently intense or adorably cozy, relatability is an important way to drive a reader’s psychological investment.  Family is one of those elements that

When I wrote my first book, I did so with a gun on my hip. I worked at the New York/Quebec border for ICE (although it wasn’t called that then). I routinely volunteered to work the least favorite shift: midnight to 8 a.m. because I could squeeze in some writing. We had what we called

I sometimes call myself an “accidental” mystery writer. I’m not an accidental writer, by any means; I’ve been telling stories since I could speak, and began writing them down shortly after. I have notebooks upon notebooks filled up with stories from my elementary and middle and high school days – stories written during class, when

Old homes have always fascinated me. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a hundred-year old farmhouse hearing stories about those who lived there long before our family. I remember looking at the towering maples in the yard, thinking of the people who planted them a century ago, and marveling at how different their lives