The Exchange

When a long-forgotten college acquaintance sends Kate McMillan a friend request on a social media site, it seems harmless enough. But what follows sets off a chain of events, which puts her beloved family at risk and her very life in grave danger.

Homicide Detective Mark Bartelli is part of a highly trained task force assigned to serve and protect. He’s also deeply attracted to Kate. When a dangerous stalker kidnaps Kate, he vows to move heaven and earth to find her.

THE EXCHANGE digs deep into the psyche of a deranged killer, who has a singular goal and one deadly obsession—Kate McMillan.

http://www.amazon.com/Exchange-Patricia-Hudson-ebook/dp/B00Y1HTEX2/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1432640634&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Exchange+by+Patricia+Hudson

Patricia Hudson was born in Wales, U.K. As a young girl she moved to America with her family and currently resides on a small horse farm in central Illinois, with her husband, David, two dogs, and her beloved quarter horse.
She has written seven books: Stolen Hearts released in 2013. The Call, Love on the Double T, Love’s Deception, and The Exchange to be published in 2015. Also in production are The Circle, and Jana Morgan, PI.
Join her on http://www.facebook.com/AuthorPHudson
Tweet on http://www.twitter.com@AuthorPHudson
Read her blogs on https://patriciahudson1011.wordpress.com

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The Call

I’ve often wondered why I wrote The Call. I understand why I chose the setting. It is Wales, my homeland; the country where I grew up and where my family still lives. But why did I choose witchcraft? I don’t practice the craft, but I do remember the magic of my youth:

billy-stock-ancient-gorsedd-stones-pontypridd-rhondda-south-wales-wales-united-kingdom-europe

•Crossing the field behind my house to go to movie night at the school I attended and listening to my brother inform me that a witch lived in the house at the top of the lane.
•Walking past the cemetery behind the church across from our school and running for my life when my brother told me witches walked there after dark.
•Hearing footsteps outside my bedroom door, not knowing it was my brother sneaking around when we should have been asleep.
•Hearing strange noises at night because my brother hooked up some contraption that sent sounds through a wire from his bedroom to mine. Sounds he swore were made by the walking dead.
•Walking on the cliffs with my father and brother and lying on my stomach to peek over the edge to the ocean crashing below.
•Visiting my auntie who lived in an old thatched cottage.
•Getting caught in an apple tree by the surly old man who owned the apple orchard at the bottom of the field.
•Listening to my mam’s friend read tea leaves and begging her to read mine.
•Staying at the Thomas Arms Hotel with my friend, Louise, because she was lucky enough to live there with her guardians. At night, we listened to the ghosts wander the hallways.
•Going to a pub with my parents and listening to the haunting voices of the patrons sing Welsh hymns.

All of these memories are woven into my book along with the magical lore that belongs to Wales.

The Call: Is it witchcraft or madness? Angharad Jones heeds the call. Relocating to Wales, hoping to discover her heritage, she is unprepared for the battle of power unleashed upon her arrival. Angharad, a successful author, seeks answers to the visions plaguing her since childhood. In a drastic move to uncover the mystery behind them, Angharad moves to Wales, the one place her mother refuses to talk about. While renting a cottage in Fishguard, she meets Rhyse Williams, the handsome Chief Inspector, who is investigating the death of two students found naked and bound together on the beach below the cliffs surrounding the village; the same two students in Angharad’s vision. Their attraction to one another is immediate and intense, but can she trust Rhyse or will he run for the hills when she tells him about her visions. It is all unleashed when Angharad discovers that Rhyse is part of the call. Are they destined for love or betrayal? Murders are uncovered, spells are cast and love is found. The battle of power between good and evil begins.

TheCall

About Patricia Hudson: Patricia Hudson was born in Wales, U.K. She moved to America with her family and currently resides on a small horse farm in central Illinois, with her husband, two dogs, and her beloved quarter horse.

She has written eight books: Stolen Hearts released in 2013. Love on the Double T released in 2014. Love’s Deception, The Exchange, and Bear Run to be published in 2015. Also in production are The Circle, and Jana Morgan, PI.

Join her on:

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Words Escape Me

thCAKDAQNYI’ve stopped writing. It’s not a joke. I wish it were, but I can’t think of a freaking thing to say. I’ve frantically read the posts about writer’s block, but seriously, they don’t pertain to me.

I’ve never considered myself to be a writer, so the advice doesn’t apply. Not an honest to God writer like, Norah Roberts or some of the other famous well-known romance authors. I DABBLE with words. They poured out of me when I could write. Not necessarily in a way that made sense, but at least they flowed through my fingers and ended in some makeshift form onto a page. Now, all I have is a blank screen. It’s been that way for weeks, and it’s beginning to freak me out.

Writers tell you to write every day. Sorry, but I’m sick of writing grocery lists or things-to-do lists. Does that count? Is it writing? It’s barely two-hundred words, certainly not the minimum twenty-five hundred words they recommend. I don’t have twenty-five hundred words in me.

Deep down, I knew this would end. I was an accountant. Accountants don’t write. They understand numbers, not words. At least now I have a cause for my dried up brain.

My writer friends try to encourage me. “Write anything,” they say.

“Like what? I can’t think of anything. That’s the problem,” I counter in despair.

“Write one sentence. It will come.”

“Okay.”

I open a new word doc and write, ‘Mary loves John.’ . . . I DON’T THINK SO.

“It’s not working,” I lament.

“Then read. It will inspire you.”

So I read. And I read. And I read. Great books and not such great books, but I read. All day. All night. I read until, my eyes blur, and I fall asleep clutching my Kindle.

It doesn’t help. I hate the authors. How dare they flaunt their talent in my face?

“Trust me, you’ll get it back. One of these days, it will be there.”

“Shut-up, you wench.”

I hear laughter. My friends find this amusing. They’re laughing at my distress. They are so not taking me seriously. But it’s better than the ‘tut-tut’ of sympathy.

“It’s back,” I lie. “I’m writing.”

“I knew you would. What’s it about.”

“It’s the best writing I’ve done, ever. It’s a secret.” More lies.

“Can’t wait to read it.” The ‘pat’ response to any writer. I’m beginning to see how fake some of these phrases are. No one can read that many books. Not even me, as I devour at least six a week; more if I don’t fall asleep.

“How’s it coming?” My concerned writer friends ask.

More lies. Always lies. I pretend I’m about to unveil the greatest book since the Outlander series took the romance world by storm. Instead of Mary loves John, I should start with; Claire loves Jamie. Maybe that would inspire me.

I disappear for days. Not literally disappear, but I am absent on social media and messenger. My lies begin to get to me.

I gradually make my way back. I miss the quizzes. You know, like; which house should you live in? Castle, if anyone is interested.

“Hi.” What else can I say? I throw it out there hoping they haven’t forgotten me.

“Hey,” I was worried about you. I called, but you didn’t answer. I thought you were probably deep into your manuscript.”

Oh, God! I must confess. “I scrapped it.” It’s better than saying it didn’t exist. A half-lie.

“Why?”

Outlander has already been written.” I start to laugh. Hysterically. Losing it.

“Oh my God! You need help. Write a blog.”

So I did.

——————————————————————————————————————–
Book cover 9313 029Patricia Hudson was born in Wales, U.K. As a young girl she moved to America with her family and currently resides on a small horse farm in central Illinois, with her husband, David, two dogs, and her beloved quarter horse.
She has written seven books: Stolen Hearts released in 2013. The Call, Love on the Double T, Love’s Deception, and The Exchange to be published in 2014. Also in production are Bear Run and Jana Morgan, PI.
Join her on:
http://www.facebook.com/AuthorPHudson
Tweet on http://www.twitter.com@AuthorPHudson
Read her blogs on https://patriciahudson1011.wordpress.com

The Writer’s Angst

0511-1103-0212-0510Angst is a powerful word. I prefer it to worry, anguish or torment. It sounds like a word that belongs to the struggling…you fill in the blank. I can’t use angst to describe my emotions when I write. That word belongs to much loftier writers than I will ever claim to be. James Joyce was the king of angst. He spent days anguishing over just the right word for his sentence.

Regardless, I do suffer from angst, not while I write, but the minute I type The End. Angst attacks and invades my brain like a possessive demon. I totally fall apart. First, my angst questions the worthiness of my manuscript. It’s not good enough. No one will read it. Trash it, all thoughts that rage in my head. That’s when I turn to my critique partner who assures me that it’s great. Not great, as in the next great American novel, but great enough.

My next bout with angst comes when I submit my first three chapters to my publisher. Four weeks after my submission, I expect to hear back asking for the entire manuscript. I have a timeline. If they don’t meet it, I’m thrown into the depths of hell. “I knew it. They hate it,” I wail to my critique partner. An entire week of cake and cookies has passed, feeding my angst. I finally get the request for my manuscript, only to have angst strike again when I think they’re going to pass on publishing my work. I hate that phrase “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to pass at this time.” Does that mean they’ll take it next week? My angst doesn’t end until I have the contract in hand.

It’s over you say. No. It’s only begun. My next bout begins as soon as the final edit is returned to the publisher. I’m beginning to hate this book. Marketing…this is where angst grows to mammoth proportions. Selling myself is not high on my like-to-do list. I feel like a prostitute beating my drum for readers. I won’t even say it’s limited to Facebook because I’m all over the place. I stand on the corner of Twitter and WordPress if anyone’s interested. I do everything that’s required. I attend book signings. I tweet. And I blog. All creating greater angst.

And then, we have the rankings and reviews. Hours, days are spent dissecting these dreaded author haters. I stand in judgment as they strip me of my confidence. It’s only when I get a good review that I can raise my head and stare the beast in the eye.

The worst is when a friend or family member informs me that they’re reading my book. Angst goes through the roof when I hear this. I feign a contagious disease to avoid the holiday dinner. Anything is better than listening to them dissect the book I bled over.

Writing is a roller coaster of angst. It’s a good thing I like the word.

First published on Southern Writers Magazine: Suite T

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Book cover 9313 029Patricia Hudson was born in Wales, U.K. As a young girl she moved to America with her family and currently resides on a small horse farm in central Illinois, with her husband, David, two dogs, and her beloved quarter horse. She has written seven books: Stolen Hearts released in 2013. The Call, Love on the Double T, Love’s Deception, and The Exchange to be published in 2014. Also in production are The Circle, and Jana Morgan, PI. Join her on http://www.facebook.com/AuthorPHudson Tweet on http://www.twitter.com@AuthorPHudson
Read her blogs on https://patriciahudson1011.wordpress.com

The Call. Released April 30, 2014

The Call.

Is it witchcraft or madness? Angharad Jones heeds the call and relocates to Wales hoping to discover her heritage. She is unprepared for the battle of power unleashed upon her arrival. Angharad, a successful author, seeks answers to explain the visions plaguing her since childhood. In a drastic move to uncover the mystery behind her visions, Angharad moves to Wales, the one place her mother refuses to talk about. While renting a cottage in Fishguard, she meets Rhyse Williams, the handsome Chief Inspector, who is investigating the death of two students found naked and bound together on the beach below the cliffs surrounding the village; the same two students in Angharad’s vision. Their attraction to one another is immediate and intense, but can she trust Rhyse or will he run for the hills when she tells him about her visions. It is all unleashed when Angharad discovers that Rhyse is part of the call. Are they destined for love or betrayal? Murders are uncovered, spells are cast and love is found. The battle of power between good and evil begins.

A small taste from The Call:

Upon reaching the top of the hill, she discovered a wide expanse of yellowing sea grass that stretched to the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. Her lungs expanded as she breathed in the scent of the ocean. The tall grass rustled in the wind as Angharad ran, driven toward her destination. Despite being fearful of heights, she stood at the edge of the cliff, unable to tear herself away, riveted by the ocean’s majestic power. She watched the ocean crash against the rocks below, creating swirls of white caps. Its strength and fury left her in awe. The tide was in, covering all signs of the beach that lay below the crashing waves. Without warning, her headache roared in her skull, much like the waves crashing below, and she dropped to her knees, holding her head in agony. She swayed back and forth, her head riddled with pain, until the vision came. The face of a woman, in her mid-thirties, with long, curly, dark hair appeared in her mind. Her blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face stared vacantly as she floated in the sea her hair splayed around her. Angharad cried out as she recognized the similarity between the woman and her own appearance. It was as though she looked in a mirror. Holding her head, she began to sob uncontrollably. Tears splashed to her knees as she rocked back and forth. Maybe she saw herself in death. Whatever it was, she had a sense of overwhelming grief and screamed, the sound carried out to sea by the wind. Were her visions manifesting into her own reality? Absorbed in the memory of what she’d seen, she jumped when a hand touch her elbow. “Miss, may I help you? What are you doing on the cliffs?” She turned to the voice and exhaled a breath, relieved she was not yet lost to the madness of her mind. The stranger appeared concerned and held her steady as he helped her to her feet. When she opened her mouth to thank him, her words blew away with the wind. He led her down the path to his car, gently helping her into the front seat. Still struggling for awareness, she let the stranger drive her away.

Hot, hot, hot off the press, pick up your copy of The Call.

http://www.amazon.com/Call-Patricia-Hudson-ebook/dp/B00K2FB0VQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1399260507&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Call

About Patricia Hudson Book cover 9313 029Patricia Hudson was born in Wales, U.K. As a young girl she moved to America with her family and currently resides on a small horse farm in central Illinois, with her husband, David, two dogs, and her beloved quarter horse.

She has written eleven books: Stolen Hearts released in 2013. The Call, Love on the Double T, Love’s Deception, and The Exchange to be published in 2014. Also in production are The Circle, and Jana Morgan, PI.
Join her on:

Facebook

Twitter

Blog

Falling Out of Love With My Manuscript

Yikes! I pushed the send button. What was I thinking? It’s not ready. If I read it one more time, I know I can improve it.

Do all authors think these thoughts when they submit a manuscript? I do and more. Some I can’t share on a public blog site.

I’m what they call an early sender. I have to be. If I read my manuscript one more time, I’m going to send it to the trash bin. I’m sick of the characters, sick of the plot. What I knew was good after the third read, is now a boring mish-mash of uninteresting characters whom I hate. I really don’t care anymore if Ian and Gwyn get back together or if Bronwyn ever falls in love. Let them figure out their own problems.

It was suggested that I do a sequel. I laughed hysterically. “That means I have to read the bloody book again. I don’t remember the details.” I quipped to the person who knows me and my fickle nature.

I did end up writing a sequel. I loved the book for as long as it took me to write it. But like all the others, I fell out of love.

I’m very unfaithful. I’ve written nine books in two years. Thank goodness my personal life isn’t as chaotic. I assure you, I’m happily married and have been for thirty plus years. My infidelities only happen on paper.

I envy the writer who remains faithful to their novels. The author who remembers every detail, every kiss, every word spoken between the heroine and the hero. My CP can recite passages from her works. She remembers in detail what they wore, how they looked, how they felt.

If I’m asked about my books, I have to struggle to remember the names of the main characters. I often get my characters mixed up. Sarah is the horse trainer, not the Behavioral Psychologist for the Chicago Police Department. Her name is Kate or is it Angharad. No, Angharad is the witch.

Maybe, I should write sequels, the names would be easier to remember. Alas, that isn’t true either. I wrote the sequel using the wrong name for the antagonist and had to do a search to change the name when I discovered my error on the third read through. I wrote the wrong name fifty-one times. By then, I was clenching my teeth and rooting for her.

Today, I sent it off. Ready or not. It was either send or trash, and I chose send. The thought of Ian in the trash still hurt a bit.

I hope I’m not alone. I never hear anyone talk about their books in anything but the most loving terms. Don’t get me wrong, months later, I can remember them with fond, if not vague, memories.

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Books:
Released 2014
Stolen Hearts:
To find Stolen Hearts on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Hearts-ebook/dp/BooE3LMF71
Coming in 2014 by SoulMate Publishing:
The Call April, 2014
Love on the Double T May, 2014
Moody Gallery Summer, 2014
The Exchange September, 2014
Jana Morgan, P.I., The Case of the Mississippi River Murders

It’s Time to Fess Up

I have owned horses for eighteen years.  I have loved them, cared for them, bred them, and comforted them as they passed from this world. Horses are who I am. I am also afraid of them. You read it right. I’m afraid of horses. I know you’re shaking your head, but it’s true. I’m afraid of horses.

I guess the key here is that I love them more than I fear them.

You’re a writer. Isn’t it the same for you? You love writing more than you fear rejection. It’s the beauty of what we do. Love pushes us further than we would dare to go without it. We’ll climb the mountain, jump off the cliff, run into the burning building, run the marathon, all because we are passionate about what we do. We conquer that demon called fear.

It’s a gift, the ability to conquer our demon. Without it we would sit on the sideline cheering on those who dare. We don’t always think about it. We take three deep breaths open our laptop and press the keys. Sometimes the demon sneaks in and whispers in our ear. “You’re wasting your time. You could be doing ………fill in the blank. No one is going to want your manuscript.”

But you love to write more than you fear rejection. You plunge ahead with the story you love. You’re filled with joy as the story progresses. You fall in love with your characters. You dance when it’s finished. You edit and polish and edit and polish and you send it off to the publishing company or agent. You love to write more than you fear rejection.

Casey and her foal

That’s how I feel about horses. The fear is there when I walk into the stall with the mama and her foal staring me down.  The fear is there when I wonder if either will hurt me. The fear is there knowing they may reject me. But love pushes me on.

How do I describe the feeling when the foal takes that first step toward me, then runs back behind her mama’s legs to hide.  Her little face peaks out and eyes me. Her curiosity kicks in. And then a second step and a third until her sweet little muzzle is buried in my hand.

I love horses more than I fear them.

I love to write more than I fear rejection.

 

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Books:

Stolen Hearts    http://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Hearts-ebook/dp/B00E3LMF7I/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1383066373&sr=8-4&keywords=stolen+Hearts

Release in 2014 by SoulMate Publishing:

The Call

Love on the Double T

Moody Gallery

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