Monday, 23 June 2014

Guest Interview - 23 June 2014: A H Scott

Welcome once again to A H Scott. My friend, and an excellent writer who has agreed to update her last interview and give an update on her writing life.



Pull up a comfortable seat, now what is your poison?

Lemonade will definitely do the trick. (revised) – Lemonade will definitely suit the moment. Sweet with a little kick always does the trick for me thanks. 

Naomi, thank you for this lovely get together this sunny afternoon. Well, let me introduce myself to you and your wonderful readers.

I am writer A.H. Scott and I’m seated here in Ms. Shaw’s cottage on the beach. I am New York born, bred and breathing. As for my age, well, it falls beneath 50 and rises above 30.
I’m an author of fiction, poetry, commentary and essay.
Wow, your readers would be a little green in seeing this piece of heaven on the glistening sand, Naomi. Simply smashing, it is here…
Thank you that is fine
When did you first get interested in writing? Was there some specific prompt in your life that guided you to be a writer?
I have had a love affair with words, ever since I scrawled crayon against construction paper. And, my pen is the throbbing instrument that crafts the tales I write today.

I guess nothing specifically prompted me to take this path of becoming a writer who is seeking to be published. But, a few poems and stories I had inside of my head, needed an outlet beyond just me seeing what I write. So, from there, just a flood of submissions and rejection letters started me off on this road.

If I may, Naomi, I’d like to say one other thing. To all writers who have been turned down time and time again in getting their work published – KEEP ON TRYING! And, when you think there is nowhere that will give you a chance at being published – TRY, TRY, TRY …..and then TRY AGAIN!!

Sooner or later, you keep pushing and finally you can get a little toe into that big door. It might start off as just a tiny crack, but once you’re inside the sphere of being published; it’s a feeling that can make you grab every opportunity which comes your way.

I mainly stay in the lane of contemporary romance and erotica. Interpersonal relationships have always fascinated me. And, I don’t mean the purely physical aspect of two bodies. It’s that little engine of the heart & soul inside which makes my characters and storylines take shape.

Now, that’s just my tame stuff.

I’ve diversified into three new avenues using pen names. One thing which is different from me writing my mainstream fiction is that these other works are multiple titles in a variety of series.

The first is a 1940’s/1950’s detective series of books. The second is a hardcore series set in contemporary Italy within a Master’s dungeon. The third is a series of books based on a secret society that dances upon that tightrope of taboo.

And, of course, this lady who writes these daring tales isn’t going to spill the trio of names which I use to explore the naughty, devilishly dominant and unspoken side of fiction on the razor’s edge of controversy.

For these books, nothing is off the table of imagination’s universe.

A piece of music, single word whispered or even an image can strike the lightning bug inside of my soul.

Steinbeck, Hemingway, Poe, Shelley, and many of the classics are on my bookshelf. But, nestled between the literary heavyweights are Sidney Sheldon, Ken Follett, Norman Vincent Peale, Stephen King and several other more contemporary writers. Finally, one other author has really rocked my imagination – JACKIE COLLINS!!! Her works have been flashy, splashy, spicy and fearless. Now, that’s the juicy stuff that really makes my eyes tingle as I read her books.
Romance, adventure, action, mystery, philosophy and the whole ball of wax have passed my eyes over the years.

My brain’s always going. And, flipping the script in my own writing is something I find is quite intriguing. I mean challenging myself to get a different tone or plateau seems a road worth taking. So, the genre may just be something which will surprise even me, when pen is placed to paper and fingers fly across the keyboard. I’ve already dipped my toe into a short Western. And, it was fun. But, there might be an idea which is coming over the horizon, which will surprise those who read my work in the subject matter.

Wow, think of this – no sex and mildest violence could be a new novel penned by yours truly. (possible - possible)

For me, the small nibbles were a few poems published here and there across the web.

The big break for me came when the now defunct Hearts On Fire Books published my first novel, titled, "Over My Head" in 2009. Melissa Miller, Chris Browers and Jessica Coulter Smith from Hearts on Fire Books will always have a place on my scoreboard of gratitude and respect. They took a chance on me. And, for that, my toe was in the door of being a published author.

Although the company folded, having my book out there to be read by the world gave me a new found persistence in wanting it to be published once again.

Well, in October 2011; I took "Over My Head' to a new level. I beefed up some of the scenes and took some of the key characters to places that were originally not in the first release. It is now published by Smashwords. And, this contemporary romance is also available for purchase at Amazon (worldwide), Barnes & Noble, and ITunes, and Smashwords.

I keep my fingers crossed in knowing that the public is starting to actually notice my novel. It's a hell of a good feeling in knowing that someone out there is seeing my 'baby' in full blossom. And, yes, I call my novel, "Over My Head" my 'baby'. I do it, because this work for me is so close to my heart. I had to feed new words to it and coax it into the fine form that it is at the present moment. So, hey, call me a freak, but, "Over My Head" was born from my fertile mind.

That book became something more than just words scribbled in notebooks and across the computer for me. In a way, it became my own blossoming into the arena of authorship. If not for “Over My Head”, in any form; you probably wouldn’t be having this interview with me right now, Naomi.

After rebooting and polishing my original version of “Over My Head”, I actually came to a realization – FOUR BOOKS ARE BETTER THAN ONE!

Thus, the “Over My Head Saga” was reborn. And, I listened to the little voice inside of myself and knew it was the right move to make in breaking down this novel into something more palatable for the reader. Four books for the audience to dive into made more sense than the ‘whale’ of a novel which I primarily created.

Of course I wouldn’t toss out such a tease without giving your readers a few nibbles of my work:

Book One – “Over My Head: Tightrope”:

Secrets are like a rash. Irritation. Agitation. Frustration. Yet, they always rise to the surface.

A husband's secret becomes a wife's gamble. Question is: Can a balancing act last forever? Or is trippin' just a price of marriage? This is "Over My Head: Tightrope", the first book in the four part "Over My Head" saga.

Larry & Angie made for a lovely portrait. Yet, fractures of their marriage weren't easily seen behind the gossamer veneer of charming smile and supportive caress. Puncturing the surface of this couple revealed a relationship not so rosy.

The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak.

And, to think - it all began with a single kiss.....

EXCERPT - Spoonful of oatmeal into mouth, she couldn't stop thinking about the feeling of being enveloped in Nick's overwhelming bravado. That man's lust for her, brought fulfillment for the first time in many months.

Lack of sexual intimacy between husband and wife, had been brushed under the carpet of excuses. Work stress and not enough time for each other, awarded Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Chase that broom of convenience.

Being a good wife and sparkling hostess, Angela thought all was well in her world. A husband's touch in the midnight hour, wasn't all that made a relationship grand. Alas, when another man paid her that level of primal observance, all those feelings of desire bubbled to the surface.

In some ways, it was as if Nick reached down Angie's throat and pulled out the vibrant bird of desire that made many men prior to Larry go wild.

Finishing off breakfast, Angela Chase thought about Nicholas Bell's touch. Nick's hands against her flesh were only the tip of temptation's iceberg. When a rigid cock entered a placid pussy, Angela's soul came alive.

On another level of lust, that man's sonata of sexual hunger for this faltering female of prior decadence, were words that burned the barren wick within her.

She was turned on and tingling all over with just a single touch by this man. Before arriving at that motel room, he was a being whom Angela didn't even want to have anything to do with.

Positioned behind that bowl of cereal, Chase came to a realization. Suddenly, it was that same man who made her orgasm so powerful and hard in room 4 of the Tropical Palms Motel.

What was experienced with just one time in bed with Nicholas Bell and being in love with Lawrence Chase, became like midnight and the dawn.

Nick lit a fire within Angie, which any woman would envy in the dark quest for yearning of satisfaction. This was the person that brought a blistering climax from the depths of an inanimate lady of lust.

Lawrence held the hope for a brighter future, which may not have been filled with robust rumblings in a boudoir. It was he who held her heart.

Angela placed spoon into empty bowl, she walked with it into the kitchen. Gingerly rested item into sink, her left hand pushed the faucet open. As water ran, Larry walked up behind his wife and pressed against her, "Room for another bowl?"

Hearing his warm voice in an ear, she turned around and smiled, "For you, baby. Anytime", taking plate and washing it with her bowl.

"I've got to go", gazing at his wristwatch, "Don't forget tonight, Angie", scurrying out of the kitchen, Larry smiled back at his wife and walked towards the foyer, "We've got that business dinner in Madison at 7", picking up a black briefcase, adjusting his tie and placing jacket on.

As if Angela was nothing more than just a perfectly perky, plastic figurine, Larry ignored saying goodbye to his wife and began to twist the silver doorknob.

"Larry? Aren't you forgetting something?", Angela dried her hands quickly, while walking towards the front door and waited for a farewell peck on the cheek from him.

With door ajar, he turned and faced her, "Angie, I'm so sorry. I forgot all about you", squeezing briefcase in one hand, Larry kissed those tender lips and smiled, "Got to go, babe", patting Angela's shoulder, Larry walked towards his car.

"Larry?", looking to hear three little words from this man's lips, Angela sighed.

Chase replied with a sense of agitation, as time was ticking away for him, "Yeah, honey?", gazing down at that watch one more time.

"Nothing", not forcing the issue of needing to hear a love song from her husband's lips, Angela Chase said a final farewell to him, "I'll see you later, darling".

"Don't forget, 7".

"I won't".

This morning of all mornings that she and Larry shared shouldn't have been one of a forgetful spouse in kissing a wife goodbye. Yet, those emotions that had been locked deep within Angela Carter Chase erupted at the most inopportune moment.......END OF EXCERPT

Book Two – “Over My Head: Inferno”:

Even the sightless can see themselves in the catbird seat......

Opportunities can be like balloons. Sometimes elevated by an optimistic breeze. Sometimes obliterated by arrows through burning trees. It all depends on who controls the air of effectiveness. This is "Over My Head: Inferno", the second book in the four part "Over My Head" saga.

The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Devotion came in a single kiss.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

EXCERPT - Making an attempt at uncovering Bell's demeanor when hearing this lovely heiress rejecting his advances towards her, she dug a little deeper, "Come on, Angie. I'm interested in his reaction".

"He laughed", Shrugging to downplay the aftermath of and evening's events at Sheppard Mills Hotel bar and a manifestation in blue at Gardenia Gardens the next morning.

Tissue squeezed tightly in right hand, as Darlene looked downward at off-white tablecloth, "He laughed?" Thrown for a loop over an uncharacteristic depiction of that tiger's tame response to being kicked out of Angela's life.

"Darlene, why all the questions?" Relaxed, Chase smiled at her, "It's over between us".

"Sometimes something isn't over, just because we say it is", Nicholas Bell could never be considered as Hubert Humphrey's veneer of a happy warrior. She knew he loathed to lose anything he'd acquired. This included the curvaceous brunette sitting with a smile on her face.....END OF EXCERPT

Book Three – “Over My Head: Haywire”:

Regret does not eradicate the past....

In life, sometimes a queen of hearts doesn't hold all the aces.

The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak.

Circumstances for Angela Chase change in a wave of catastrophic events. Can a wayward wife stay afloat? Or, will she drown in being "Over My Head"? This is "Over My Head: Haywire", the third book in the four part "Over My Head" saga.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Devotion came in a single kiss.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

EXCERPT – Trying to cleanse her mind, Angela closed those weary eyes and slowly opened them back up. Something on the opposite side of that bedroom caught those eyes.

Getting off the bed, she walked over to a slightly opened closet door and flicked on the light. A black plastic bag on the floor seemed so out of place. Untwisting a knot that held it closed, Angela's soul sunk in gazing at the contents within.

Object, which seemed so innocuous in life's past, viciously constricted many by a jugular of sorrow.

This was not the first time Angela had come in contact with this item inside of that bag. Originally, she'd seen it at the Eight Ball, as gunshots filled the air and unconsciousness submerged her.

Nightmare come alive is what Angela viewed, as memories of less than 96 hours in clinging company of Esposito and Mendoza imbued her psyche.

And, there it was. On the floor of the Chases closet, laid a simple pair of black sneakers..........END OF EXCERPT

Book Four – “Over My Head: Salvation” : Love holds no sanity......

Love can make a man sacrifice everything for just the sake of being alive. Being cherished in the heart of the woman he loved was his only wish. Or, was this just a soul ensnared in the myth of love's dream.

Find out just how far a man would go for the woman he loves in "Over My Head: Salvation"; the stunning conclusion of A.H. Scott's "Over My Head" saga.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Devotion came in a single kiss.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.

EXCERPT - Cold water splashed against Archie's face, began to bring about a scintilla of regulation to this wayward man. He was ready to step back out into the world outside. Within ten minutes, Archie walked out of the bathroom and gazed at the body which laid on the bed. Madeline was laying on her side with her back to him. She wished he would reach out for her to assist him, yet he didn't.

Mixed yellow and light green stream of vomit on his t-shirt left a slight stain. He left the bedroom and walked down to the kitchen.

Although he barely paid attention to anything that Maddy had said through the bathroom door, Archie did take a Bromide to calm his gut.

Unable to return upstairs to their bedroom anymore that late night, Archie Hamilton couldn't face looking into Madeline's eyes.

Perching himself into a chair by the window, Hamilton folded is arms and began to claw for a few minutes of sleep. Yet, peace of mind had become Kryptonite to this rusted Superman........END OF EXCERPT

Now, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. But, please let me leave you and your readers with some final thoughts in quotes below, Naomi.

"The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak." - from the "Over My Head" saga, penned by A.H. Scott

A personal message from author A.H. Scott: "What may appear as a simple seduction of a wife into a web of a husband's secret, takes turns that the reader will never see coming. When you think this novel is winding down, it's actually revving up onto a hidden highway of twists and revelations. No one gets out of this life without paying a price. A wife. A husband. A lover. Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder. Devotion is at the heart of "Over My Head". Devotion comes in many shades. And, what you will find in the pages of my novel is that my characters sacrifice many things for devotion - including themselves. Devotion came in a single kiss.." - A.H. Scott

"If you think you know how this one ends; you haven't a clue. Oh, of course, you'll see the passion pulsating across the screen. But, you'll never guess how a plot twist you'll never see coming can ever be so keen. As the author of this book, it's my imagination's living proof" - A.H. Scott, author of "Over My Head"

So, if you want your senses rocked hard, strap in and go "Over My Head" with yours truly, A.H. Scott.

Whew, Naomi, I could really use another glass of lemonade after going through that saga. Thanks. Mmm, delicious and hits the spot.

I hope I didn’t ramble on too long about that novel. But, hey, if the author doesn’t get the word out on her creation, who will? My answer to that question is a simple one. If I don’t toot my own horn, the symphony of A.H. Scott shall be silenced.

Naomi, my orchestra is just warming up to play. So, for now – TOOT! TOOT! TOOT! (giggling)

Have you a recent release, or one due out?

I’ll focus on two of them, if you don’t mind, Naomi. Thanks.

One is sweet. One is spicy. For you and your readers, it all depends on what mood you are in to explore either or both. Enjoy, please.

Sangre (Daughters Of The Rose Moon)” is a romantic adventure about a man who finds the woman he loves is not what she seems to be. Brian fell in love with a dream. Yet, the fantasy was a nightmare, for this woman was not what she seemed, Her name was “Sangre”. Can love be just around the corner, or beyond the stars? Find out for yourself in A.H. Scott’s “Sangre (Daughters Of The Rose Moon)”. Exclusively available at Amazon worldwide.

In the end….we are left with ourselves” – from “Sangre (Daughters of The Rose Moon)”

EXCERPT - Dark brown strands of hair fanned around Sangre’s tanned shoulders, as Brian’s fingers slowly danced up her bare back.

She could feel herself entering the sphere of satisfaction and began to motion like an activated package of Jiffy Pop popcorn upon him.

Brian’s hands moved from her upper back and directly past the tattoo a few inches above those soft butt cheeks.

Squeezing her ass firmly, he smiled and she exhaled.

In script, was her name with a tiny droplet formed upon a thin line at the end of the final letter of that moniker - Sangre.

She had told him she’d gotten it to never forget who she was.

For a woman with a name so unique, it was obvious no man would ever let her vanish from his memory banks.

With limbs and lips locked for romance’s take-off, Sangre was ready for Brian’s propulsion.


Sangre felt the sonic reckoning that some of her friends had told her about.

Her soul fluttered like a million butterflies in this moment.

A woman of 28 and a man of 33, were immersed in adoration’s fantasy.

Brian cradled Sangre and they gently wandered off into dreamland.

Darkened bedroom in that small apartment was a haven of midnight for both of them.

River of sunlight washed into that silent bedroom, as Brian stirred beneath those sheets.

Yawning, he moved his head from left to right on a soft pillow. Brian opened his eyes to find the other pillow without Sangre’s beautiful head upon it.

Craning neck in direction of the bathroom, he could see the light whistling through the slightly opened door.

He checked the time and decided to catch a few more moments of sleep, before she came back to join him under the covers.

Black metal clock on the small nightstand on the opposite side of that bed read 6:17.

Aroma of fresh brewed coffee teased Brian’s nostrils, as he awakened with a smile on his face.

Realizing the light in the bathroom was still on, he turned head to see what time it was upon the clock.

What the…?” Sitting straight up in bed, his eyes focused on that nightstand clock.

8:30 on the dot.

Time vanished in a snap. He hadn’t just closed his eyes for a few moments to await a lover’s return, but went back to sleep.

He tossed the sheet to one side and climbed out of bed quickly. Making a b-line over to the bathroom, Brian pushed the door open.

The bathroom was empty.

Brian’s reflection in that bathroom was a cause for panic, as impressions of his fingers had left red stains upon each cheek.

Looking down at his own hands, a vision of crimson was seen by this worried man.

Befuddled by what this substance was, he walked back into the bedroom and grabbed at the bedding.

Patterns of dark colors were burnished on those evergreen sheets. Splatters of lines, splotches of circles formed a chaotic picture of the prior evening’s encounter.

As Brian began rubbing palms tightly together, that darkness began to subside. Shocked and stammering to himself, he staggered over to the bathroom sink.

Whoosh of water began to cause this color to fade to pale pink of his palms.

What really happened last night? Where was she? Was she hurt?

Beyond any other question Brian had seared in his mind was of who this woman was.

Sangre was gone.

Mystery of who she was remained….END OF EXCERPT

Brian fell in love with a dream.

Yet, the fantasy was a nightmare, because this woman was not what she seemed.

Her name was....."Sangre".

Author A.H. Scott takes you into a new dimension.

"Sangre (Daughters Of The Rose Moon)"

An Amazon Worldwide Exclusive....

Here is YouTube link for the “Sangre” video trailer:

Well, taking you from the sweetness of “Sangre”, I turn your attention towards the realm of Delilah Archer in “A Delilah Archer Mystery: The Case Of the Curvaceous Cutie”.

Delilah Archer's back!

And, this time, she's up to her stilettos in naughtiness.

A sex tape, matchbook and blackmail lead this private detective on a mission to find Florida tycoon, Quinton Mathis’ missing wife.

Search for Olive Mathis takes Delilah on more twists than a Twizzler.

Olive’s in a pickle. And, its Delilah Archer's job to get her out of the bitter end of exposure's pool.

Swirl in a voyeur and a pair of moonshiners into this caustic cocktail; shake it up with a few curve balls along the way, and you've got a spicy new Delilah Archer Mystery.

Author A.H. Scott takes you from the cozy offices of Nashville's Archer Agency, through a strip club outside of Atlanta and deep into the mud of the Georgia swamp.

This is: “A Delilah Archer Mystery: The Case of The Curvaceous Cutie”.

Delilah Archer is a woman who isn't above getting her hands dirty when it comes to bringing a satisfactory conclusion for any client that passes through the silver doors of the Archer Agency.

For those who misjudge her, Delilah Archer always gets them in the end.

EXCERPT – The Poole brothers lived off the grid and in a lane of illicit activities, as her eyes glimpsed those varied trappings of a still and scent of chemicals to manufacture meth.

Modified muffler used to create the moonshine still for cooking up the liquor had several flimsy white and beige canvas sheets partially covering it. Six large oil barrels were situated directly in front of the still.

Various lengths, diameters and coils of clear tubing for piping were also scattered about this area.

Delilah’s eyes got off easy in absorbing the atmosphere as her nose received the true pummeling of a powerful stench.

Acrid aroma of piss, oil, fermented fruit, alcohol, turpentine, hops and several other indistinguishable odors filled the area.

She could see they’d sampled their own wares, as each man leaned against the rickety fence outside of the cabin.

Archer saw this pair dressed in grungy overalls with hands filthy with grease and turpentine, knowing this case would be getting dirtier by the second.

Taking another step forward and a deep breath of courage in entering the domain of moonshiners and meth-heads, private detective Delilah Archer knew she was walking a tight-rope above a muddy alligator pit.

Hopefully, a smile would get on the gators’ good side.

Deke Poole, 31, had scruffy stubble, as if he’d been allergic to a razor. As for Zeke; this younger brother by two years, had bushy eyebrows which almost connected in the center of his forehead.

Who are you?” Deke snorted the air and scratched his shoulder.

Delilah smiled, “I’m a friend of Olive’s. I heard that she’s here”.

Zeke shrugged, “We’re Olive’s friends. And, we know she didn’t give that info to anybody” Pressing his right elbow onto that fence, it creaked with this man’s weight, “So, tell us who the fuck you are”.

Almost stuck in place, Delilah wasn’t going to turn back or flinch, “Her husband hired me to find her and bring her back home”.

Home?” Deke chuckled with a pig’s snorting sound, “Shit!” Laughing, “This place was her home, when home wasn’t some fancy digs in Florida”.

Zeke’s neck cracked, as he stretched, “What makes you think we’re gonna help you, huh?”

Delilah continued, “Her husband is worried about her” Small puffs of smoke were coming out of that smokestack, as if the chimney was notifying Archer of someone being inside that cabin for her to bring out, “I need to talk with Olive”.

Fingers on Deke’s left hand began to rub along his chin, as he looked this woman up and down with a smirk, “You come into our neck of the woods, lady” Signs of intoxication caused several seconds of sniffling, “And, think there would be no repercussions”.

For baby brother, Zeke, his coarse way came directly to the surface, “But, there is a price for stickin’ your nose where it shouldn’t be” Giving Archer a once over with lusty eyes.

Delilah wasn’t looking for a verbal jousting with these two nitwits, “Listen, fellas, I don’t want no trouble” Shrugging shoulders slightly, she placed hands upward, “I just came to bring the old man’s wife back”.

Well, that and an army might get you somewhere, sugar” Zeke snickered in a way of dismissing whatever she had to say.

As for Deke, he folded his arms in a defensive mode, “But for now, you’ll have to go through us to get to her”.

Delilah Archer was determined to get inside of that cabin to talk to Olive Mathis, as this Baltimore native walked a few steps closer to the front door, “Move out of my way”.

The Poole brothers may not have been the sharpest tools in the box, but knew how to think in unison and replied in a similar way, “You make us, bitch!”

Five letter word which so callously came roaring from their lips remained one which ticked off Delilah Archer to the core.

Delilah hated the word ‘bitch’. And, these two dimwits were going to be recipients of the machinations of retribution she would have to blast through to finish completion of her assignment in bringing home Olive Mathis.

Holding head downward, she whispered in a low growl to herself, “Fuckers, always call me that” Raising up her head, Delilah gave a snicker to them.

The game was afoot and Archer’s upper hand was hidden in submission.

Falling to her knees, she crawled slowly over to this pair in dirty brown jumpsuits……END OF EXCERPT

…….sultry suspense on target…….

Take a peek at the trailer here:

As with the first of the Delilah Archer Mysteries, they are exclusively at Amazon (worldwide).

Where can we find your work? Can you give appropriate links please?

*****Amazon Author Pages Of A.H. Scott*****

*****Barnes & Noble******
A.H. Scott Barnes & Noble –


(several free ebooks of mine are here – take a peek and pick up a freebie on me)

I also have two other novels, titled, “Buckets Of Rain” and “Rack Em”, as well as other tales of love, suspense, adventure and romance at Amazon & Smashwords.

"Buckets Of Rain" is a conspiracy thriller. Murder in a sleepy Michigan town leads to an investigation that uncovers a conspiracy just beneath the cloak of civility. A couple attacked. Two lives destroyed. Truths become exposed in the harshest way to avoid. When "Buckets Of Rain" cascade, illusions of secrets in life's blind spots begin to fade. A.H. Scott pulls the trigger on a thriller that's truly a killer. Even days when the sun shines brightest, "Buckets Of Rain" fall. The most dangerous place to be is at the helm of hubris. Danger is closer than you think. "Buckets Of Rain" is available from Amazon (worldwide) and Smashwords.

"Rack Em" is a contemporary, romantic thriller set in the arena of international auctions of the exotic and erotic. From a simple action occurring in 1758 France, Manon was a woman who sacrificed her glittering bobbles to get a lover out of prison. Seems like something so innocuous to lead to a modern day mystery. Yet, her name was Manon Balletti. And, the man who held her heart was known more famously by his last name - Casanova. A.H. Scott sets the game of life on edge in the pages of "Rack Em". Purchase A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" from Amazon Worldwide and Smashwords.

What are you writing at present?

Well, let me take a big gulp of this lemonade first, Naomi. I’m going to need to take a deep breath, too. Okay, I’m ready to aim and fire it off.

There are little flames I’ve ignited so far.

One of which is a novel about events in past American history from a source which has never been dealt with before. Now, this novel is really under wraps, because I think the subject matter I will be exploring may just ruffle more than a few feathers in the corridors of past power. Oh, and by the way it’s purely speculative fiction from the point of view of a person who was in the maelstrom of a scare which left many a person in a shade of blush.

Second, a contemporary adventure set in the crosshairs of business and environmentalism. I guess one could consider it something like “Romancing The Stone” and “The Constant Gardener” meets “The Parallax View”. As I’m putting this one together, even I’m wondering which way it’ll go. (fingers crossed)

I’m working on some new ideas with the three series I’ve created under my pen names I mentioned earlier. Nostalgia in shadows of black and white, creaking cell doors of a darkened dungeon, and illicit goings behind the curtains of propriety are in the works. Oooh, the sizzle is coming… well as the characters. (winks)

Of course, my collaboration with photographer Tony Ward is sparking some new poetry from my flittering quill. His images and my words – WOW, the heat is always on when we mix n’ match our visions. You should check it out at http://www.TonyWardStudio.comby just popping my name in the search box.

Please give your website/and or blog address

A.H. Scott Twitter –

Once more I would like to thank you for being my guest.
Naomi, thank you for being a gracious, funny and charming hostess in allowing me to be interviewed on your blog. Oh, and by the way, when life tosses bitterness your way – sip lemonade! Cheers, Naomi!! (glasses cling)

Or, should I say, maybe forgetting my bathing suit was the best idea I had all day – who’s ready for skinny dippin’ in the ocean – ME!! 

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