Your real name and pen name? I write using my real name, Julie Anne Lindsey
About your education I have a 4 year degree in psychology from Kent State University
What languages you can speak and write? English. Sadly, three years of high school French got me nowhere and two years of college Spanish also vanished the minute I graduated.
What hurts you most in this world Knowing one day I will have to leave my children behind and they will grieve for me. I hate knowing no matter what I do I cannot stop at least that one painful event for them. I work really hard every day to make up for the day I’m not here to tell them I love them. I hope I have thousands of days left before I die, but no one knows that, so I show them every day.
What is your favorite genre and why? I love YA. I love that season of life when everything is ahead of you and the choices are endless. Everything is new. Anything is possible. YA characters embrace those things, fight for what’s right, risk their lives and live for the day. There’s an energy in YA that isn’t found anywhere else in literature.
When did you start writing? I started writing after the birth of my third child. I needed something that was just for me before I was gobbled up by the needs of my loved ones.
What is the purpose of your writing? I write to give others an escape. I want to whisk another woman away from things for a while, give her a moment to relax before heading back to the tasks on her calendar.
Which of your work has been published so far? I started writing for a small online press, Turquoise Morning Press, in 2011. I contributed short stories to two of their anthologies. Then, my novella, Bloom, launched their new line of Honey Creek Books. I’ve since written two more novellas for that line: Love Blossoms and Harvest of the Heart. I also published two sweet romance novels for Honey Creek: Written on Her Heart and A Beautiful Pointe. Turquoise Morning Press gave me a great start and I’ve learned much about the industry and the craft of writing from them. They also published my YA mystery, Reinventing Chloe as part of their Barefoot Books line. In 2012, I signed contracts with two more publishers. My YA suspense, Deceived, released in September 2013 from Merit press and I’m writing a three book series of cozy mysteries for Carina Press (a digital imprint of Harlequin). The first in the series, Murder by the Seaside, released in October 2013 and book two, Murder Comes Ashore released last week!
Would you like to share a synopsis of your work? Murder Comes Ashore Patience Price is just settling into her new life as resident counselor on Chincoteague Island when things take a sudden turn for the worse. A collection of body parts have washed up on shore and suddenly nothing feels safe on the quaint island. Patience instinctively turns to current crush and FBI special agent Sebastian for help, but former flame Adrian is also on the case, hoping that solving the grisly crime will land him a win in the upcoming mayoral election. When the body count rises and Patience's parents are brought in as suspects, Patience is spurred to begin her own investigation. It's not long before she starts receiving terrifying threats from the killer, and though she's determined to clear her family's name, it seems the closer Patience gets to finding answers, the closer she comes to being the killer's next victim. Amazon Barnes&Noble
What are your forthcoming writings? The final installment of my mystery series with Carina arrives this September.
What are your future plans? I plan to take a shot at self-publishing this summer. I have a sweet romance AND a YA romance I’d like to see available to readers, but they never found the right publishers, so this might be the perfect time to see what all the self-pub buzz is about. Meanwhile, I’m always writing new stories and submitting them to publishers. Anything could happen!
Your origin of birth and other countries you have visited/ stayed. What best things you liked in these countries around the globe? I’ve never left America.
Your zodiac/ sunsign? Cancer
Your favorite color and why? My color of choice changes with my mood. Sometimes white or bright pink or blue. Sometimes black or gray. It depends where my mind is at the time.
Your favorite book and why? Ridiculously, Twilight. I know. I know. Let me tell you why. This was the book that made me say, “I want to do this.” And I started writing my first novel.
Your favorite celebrity and why? Hmm. Stephen Amell (Arrow) is fun to look at and I like the cast of Supernatural because they make me laugh, but I also love Will Wheaton, Nathan Fillion and Joss Whedon because they are readers, proud geeks and feminists. Love those guys.
Your favorite food? Salad. Fresh fruits and veggies from the garden. Warm bread out of the oven. And homemade chocolate chip cookies. Some quickies: Sun or Moon, Laughter or Smile, Morning or Evening, Coffee or Tea, Mountain or Sea, Long Drive or Short Drive, Silence or Conversation, Water or Fire, Air or Earth, Mars or Jupiter, Moon or Sun, Tulip or Rose, Red or Blue, Left or Right, Glance or Stare
The last line of your autobiography would be… I’m not sure, but I hope someone will one day say that I left behind a legacy of love.
Excerpt from Murder Comes Ashore “Look.” I smacked Sebastian’s arm. Sebastian turned to look and I darted past him. His footfalls kept pace with mine, allowing me to maintain the lead when he could easily have passed me. I waded into the grasses, waving my arms overhead to keep the gulls at bay. “Told you I could help.” In a moment of gloating, I lost sight of the evidence. A seagull honked and dove at me. I jumped back on instinct and fell into the sand. A wilted reed of grass rammed up my nose and I screamed. Sneezing bug eggs and cooties, I scrambled to my feet and chased the offending bird across the sand. Two more birds joined him in the air and attacked. Whatever they all wanted, it was flesh colored and I wanted it too. Sebastian shoved two fingers in his lips and whistled. Fargas jogged toward me, a look of shock on his face. Yeah, yeah. How’d I get here? I pointed to the sky. “They’ve got something.” The birds circled in the air, stretching the thing in their beaks and flapping with vigor. “Should I shoot them?” Fargas called to Sebastian. A mob of birders appeared from the trees like magic. “No!” “What the hell?” Sebastian frowned. “They were probably here all night looking for owls or something.” I rolled my eyes. Fargas unholstered his side arm and the birders started closing in, cell phones at arm’s length, digitally capturing the chaos. “Do not shoot that bird!” A wild scream broke out above the other voices. A woman in hip waders and a dirty shirt charged Fargas. I tossed shells at the birds circling overhead. “I can’t hit them!” Frustration burst from my chest in a growl. “Stop!” I screamed at the birds. Fargas toppled into the sand beside me, crushed beneath the rampaging woman. Her giant binoculars bounced off his forehead and he went limp. “Aw, hell.” Sebastian groaned. He scooped a handful of rocks from the sand and pulled his arm back. A shower of feathers burst above me and a bird fell from the sky. The others squawked complaints, but headed out to sea. I ran for the grounded bird and yanked the skin from his beak. He flapped his wings and waddled in a daze across the sand. “You monster! You hit that bird with a rock! Murderer!” The woman climbed off Fargas and headed for Sebastian, who dropped his remaining rocks in favor of cuffs and badge. She raised her fists and Sebastian spun her around, cuffing her and reciting her rights. I flipped the fleshy prize in my hands, struggling to make sense of what the birds had worked so hard to keep. I tugged and squeezed the thing, looking past the damage done from multiple bird beaks. Realization dawned. My tummy lurched. “Ahh!” The scream that ripped loose from my chest was Oscar-worthy. I dropped the thing and ran in a tiny circle, unsure which way to go for bleach and a fast hand-removal surgery. I rubbed my palms over the seat of my pants until they hurt. Sebastian finished reading Waders her rights. A line of EMTs-turned-beachcombers surrounded Fargas. One checked his vitals. One followed the waddling bird and radioed the park ranger for assistance. We had two head injuries, six EMTs and no ambulance. I marched in big, knee-to-my-chest steps, trying not to think of the thing I would never forget. Ever. Ever. Ever. I covered my eyes with one hand. The one without lifelong cooties. With the other hand, I pointed to the item saved from the seagulls. “The victim is not a woman!”