Sunday, March 2, 2014

The Write Pet: Allison Knight || BETRAYED BRIDE

My Plot Producer and Print Investigator by Allison Knight

With four kids, animals were always a big part of our lives. We had cats, dogs, and fish. Then there was the day my oldest son wanted to add a nest of garter snakes to the group. Needless to say, he was almost my deceased oldest son, because I do not like snakes.

It was easy for us to say, when all the kids left home and we retired, there would be no more animals. Period. (Don't you love those definitive statements!) So we retired and moved south sans pets.

Then one night, the phone rang late at night. With four kids, like most parents we were concerned. I was the first one to answer the phone, only to hear this sad little voice ask to speak to 'Grandpa'. I turned the phone over to him and started to bite my nails. After a couple of minutes my DH indicated it was not that serious and the next thing I heard was, "Yes, we'll take him."

"Take who?" bounced off my lips. To make a long story short, our young granddaughter's cat had taken a chunk out of her father's hand and the cat had to go. So, Grandpa, being the softie that he is, agreed to add a cat to our retirement castle. The cat still liked to bite and was prone to do things his way so we quickly changed his name to Little S---. It what we said to him all the time. "You little s...". You can guess the rest. Our vet calls him L.S. 

After several years, a much calmer L.S. ruled the roost. He had his own cat tree, daily treats, no longer liked to sink his teeth into people so when the offer came to adopt another kitten, I said, why not. Wally, found under the back shelves of Wal Mart, joined the family. L.S. wasn't much of a playmate, so we decided Wally needed a younger companion. A trip to the vet brought Celine into our lives. Celine also liked to bite, hated being touched after the sun went down, had lived at the vet's for two years with twenty other cats, and is cross-eyed, which was probably why no one wanted to adopt her. However, when we arrived at the vet's she jumped into my DH's lap and that was that. Celine came home with us, all silver gray, part Siamese, noisy beasty.

Wally has decided that he is best working with my DH on all my promotional materials, but the other two insist on helping me. Celine is my plot producer. I'm a plotter, write historical romance and I work from a time line. I draw the time line of a large sheet of paper, surround myself with my notes, historical tidbits and colored pens, a different color for each character.

Celine will almost always take a flying leap to look over the plot. If she doesn't like it, or maybe if she does, she plants herself in the middle of the paper, stretches out and sends notes, pens and paper flying. Removing her doesn't help for in about thirty seconds she's back to survey the plot again. In a couple of cases, her interruption has benefitted the story, believe it or not.

Now the Print Investigator is L.S. All he has to hear is the printer clicking on and he races to the office, jumps on the printer and waits for the first piece of prose, reading each page as it clears the rollers. Unfortunately, he never lets me know what he thought of the story. Does anyone know how to talk 'Cat'?

In the hospital they keep calling her Sam and telling her she's married to Alex Porter but she doesn't know this Alex. Then she discovers she's lost more than a year of her life and Alex can't, or won't, tell her what happened. He refuses to let her see or talk to her father and there is also something very important about Samantha, she can't remember.

Alex Porter can't explain how Sam was either pushed or jumped from a moving car traveling away from him, or why Sam's memory disappeared but he's sure her father played a role. All he can do is offer support as she recovers and wait for her to come to him as she had before the accident, hoping against hope, Sam's father has not ruined his marriage and driven away the woman he is starting to love.


Sam opened her eyes and felt more alert. Her head ached, but the pain wasn’t as sharp. Morning sun shone through a window opposite her bed, but the bright light didn’t seem to start the awful pounding in her head the way it had before. The thumping sound beside her head didn’t seem as loud. She was even aware of noise outside her door.

The doctor said she’d been in an accident. She blinked, trying to remember what had happened to her.

A blank.

She closed her eyes, hoping she could concentrate and remember how had she gotten hurt. Driving home from work? Her dad would know. Knowing how possessive he was, he’d be here soon. Then she’d ask him about this marriage nonsense.
When more voices registered, she strained to hear what was being said. The first doctor and the familiar deep, husky voice were talking. She needed to open her eyes to see if they were close, but that would mean twisting her head and she wasn’t ready for that.
“Post traumatic amnesia...”
“But it won’t last, will it?” The man’s voice rushed through her, and she drew a rapid breath. Why did it sound so familiar?
“Look, Mr. Porter, I know this has been difficult for you, but your wife sustained massive injuries.” The doctor’s words jolted her. Wife? No!
“A head injury…her coma was not unexpected. We still don’t know how much damage was done nd it will be some time before we do. You have to be patient. She is talking and beginning to move, so that’s encouraging.”
“How long before you know the extent of damage?”
“Well, after I’ve run more tests...” The voices faded away.
Sam struggled with what she had heard.
Damage. What had happened to her?
She couldn’t remember, but they had it all wrong. This was some kind of horrible misunderstanding. They had to have mistaken her for someone else, someone who looked like her.
Available for purchase:

Author Bio:

I began my career like many other authors when I read a book I didn't like. My children scoffed when I announced I was going to write a book,  but, after lots of rewrites and the support of  the world's greatest husband, I garnered a three book contract for my first historical romances. And from a big New York publisher at that.

Today, with my husband's continued support and to the delight of my children, I write the genres I love to read, musing about my writing life on my own blog or as a guest blogger and eagerly praising the growing digital market and  the convenience of an e-reader. In fact many nights, my husband and I spend the time in our recliners, listening to music and reading from our readers.

My first contemporary romance for Champagne Books, "Betrayed Bride" was released earlier this year. This kind of plot happens when a writer ends up in the hospital and wants to recall some of the sounds and commotion that go with a lengthy hospital stay. This writer will use just about anything to assist in plot development, from people watching to cooking disasters.
Author Links:


  1. Yes, I love those declarative statements. Most of which we manage to forget when those golden or orange or green eyes look into our faces. Personally I think it's a form of mental manipulation.

  2. Monica, You are so right. I don't know how many animals ended up calling our house home, even after I said no more. Guess I'm as bad as my DH.
    Thanks for taking the time to comment.

  3. One of my cats arrived at my parents place by howling. He was sitting on the porch in the rain, mom opened the door to see what the noise was, he walked in, jumped up on my dad's lap and went to sleep. That was that.
    Book blurb and excerpt sound fantastic.

  4. Over the years our cats have chosen us, too. In one case our Goldie, lab, campaigned for Kitty-kitty to stay. They were best friends and Kitty-kitty grew to age 20 without her Goldie. She had to break in another dog.

  5. I'm a foster failure with 3 dogs and 2 cats. The oldest cat belonged to my mother who passed in 2004. Little Kitty is going strong. I always write pets into my novels. Right now I'm writing a book where the heroine is an animal communicator and six cats are secondary characters.

  6. I adopted my cat, Binky, from a local shelter. I thought I wanted a younger cat, but when I saw her huddled in the crate all wide-eyed and scared, I couldn't leaver her there. She was 6 years old and surrendered by her owner because he could no longer keep her. It's been almost 5 years now and she has my heart wrapped around her little paws. I can't imagine living without her. I wrote her into my recent novella.

  7. Love it when guys are big softies for animals!

  8. Hi, Allison! We had a dog, a female boxer, for nearly 10 years. When we had to put her down, we decided to wait a bit to decide if we wanted another dog. We'd gotten her when our three boys were still young. After a year went by, we were at the point where we were used to being without a pet and considered not getting another one. But four months later, Chase came into our life. He was a four month old puppy, a boxer-mix, whose owner couldn't keep him. He's three now and has become a part of our family.

  9. Hi Allison,
    Welcome to the Snarkology. Thank you for participating in my Write Pet series. :-)

    One of my cats jumped out a bush while I was walking around a business park on my lunch break. I guess I had "sucker" plastered across my forehead. One of my other kitties came from a rescue. He's so friendly he's our "dog". :)

  10. Thanks for all your comments, It sure makes me feel good to know we are not alone in our ability to be 'managed' by these four legged creatures.