Today on my blog is wonderful writer, a friend and former critique partner, Dawn Brown. I’m so excited to have you here today. First question. When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

Dawn: I was young when I realized I wanted to be a writer, maybe ten or eleven. Creative writing was really the only thing I did well at in school, so it seemed like a logical choice.
Jerri: I wasn’t even good at creative writing in school. LOL  So, how long does it take you to write a book?

Dawn: Each book is different. Some have taken months, others a year.

Jerri: Sounds like me. How did you come up with your title?

Dawn: Most of my titles come from either a common theme in the story, like with Living Lies and Blood and Bone, or a geographical location, like The Curse of Culcraig or The Devil’s Eye.

Jerri: Is there a messages in your novel/s that you want readers to grasp?

Dawn: Not really. I just want to tell a story that I hope people will enjoy.

Jerri: What does your family think of your writing?

Dawn: They’re proud of me. My dad won’t read them, though, because of the love scenes. 🙂   

Jerri: My husband is a bit like that as well. So, how many books have you written? Which is your favorite?

Dawn: I’ve written five books. My favorite is always the one I’m currently working on. Conversely, my least favorite is whichever one I’m doing rewrites for because I’m usually so sick of working on it.

Jerri: I think that is the case with me with one exception. I do have a favorite book of all I’ve written. Do you read reviews of your books? If so, do you pay any attention to them, or let them influence your writing?

Dawn: I do read them, but I try not to pay too much attention. After all, you can’t please everybody.

Jerri: Too true. Can you give us a look at what you are working on now?

Dawn: I’m currently working on story about a woman who discovers her past is a lie and travels to Wales to meet a family she didn’t know she had. But when she arrives she find herself pulled into a series of murders. There’s a strong paranormal twist in this one.

The Curse of Culcraig blurb and excerpt


After a devastating personal tragedy, history professor Hillary Bennett seeks refuge in the quaint Scottish village of Culcraig, hoping to research a legend and salvage her career. Instead, she finds her hostess dead, and her hopes for the future pinned to the woman’s black sheep heir. 


The last thing Caid Douglas needs is a decrepit manor house to remind him of his estranged family, but he does need the money selling the house would bring to pay off his debts.  In desperation he offers to honor his great aunt’s arrangement with Hillary—if she pays him to stay at Glendon House and view his ancestor’s journals, he’ll have the money to fix up the family mausoleum and sell it.


 But an ancient curse hovers over the village, and the secret to lifting it lies in the journals.  Will Caid and Hillary realize what they have and uncover the truth before a twisted killer silences them forever?


 Someone was in the house with them…

“You know,” Hillary said, keeping her voice low. “This house is huge. We could check each room individually, but who’s to say that whoever’s here won’t just keep moving around as we search, eventually working their way into a room we’ve already checked? We’ll never be one hundred per cent sure we’re alone.”

 “Are you suggesting we separate?”

 Her grip on his hand tightened. Did she even realize she’d done that?

 “It would probably make more sense to split up. If we worked from opposite ends and met in the middle, it would reduce the chance of an intruder slipping away. But as I said, this place is huge and we’re only two people, the odds of our mystery person eluding us are still pretty good. Not to mention the confusion.”

 “Confusion?” Caid tried to suppress his grin.

 “Yes. If we separated, we could easily wind up tracking each other. At least together, if we hear or see anything out of the ordinary, we know that it has to be someone else.”

 “What an astounding rationalization.”

 She frowned at him in obvious consternation.  “I think I made some very good points.”

 He smiled.  “Aye, you did. I’m sure you’ve convinced yerself quite nicely. Did you bring the subject up simply because you were concerned that I might think you liked holding my hand?”

 He couldn’t stop his smile from widening, especially when she struggled to untangle her fingers from his, but as they entered the kitchen, he tightened his grip.

 “Dinnae be like that. I’m just having a wee bit of fun with you.”

 She ceased struggling as her delicately shaped brows drew together in disbelief. “That wasn’t here earlier.”

 “What?” He turned to the direction she pointed.

 A brass fireplace poker lay dead center on the battered harvest table. On the floor, a series of watery footprints stretched between the back door to the table.

 Christ’s sakes. Hillary hadn’t just been frightened alone in an old house, there had been someone else here.

 But who? And why?