Interview with Dennis De Rose of Moneysaver Editing

What made you decide to be an editor? About 10 years ago, I decided that I wanted to help writers by reviewing their books but I didn’t want to purchase them. I contacted a wonderful lady, Deborah Gaynor from Kentucky. She had a reviewing service, Readers Favorite, that she had started a few years earlier. She accepted me as a reviewer and I began by reading an adventure novel. (I edited the next book he wrote and it won a gold medal for best fiction in the category). When I sent my review to Deborah, she realized it was well written. Apparently, most of the reviews she received needed tweaking. She asked me to do that for her and I accepted the challenge. I tweaked 1000 reviews for her and she agreed to put me on her website as her editor. The first thing I edited was a children’s story about a horse. I wanted to edit the story for free but the author insisted on paying me. I accepted five dollars as payment and that is how this adventure began. 

What do you like best about being an editor? I love helping writers make their books be the best they can be.

What do you like the least? Having to tell a writer that their writing needs a lot of work (sucks) and proving it to them.

How do you think your life experiences have prepared you for editing? When I was born, my mother always told me my first word was… Why? I bet she was joking but I have asked questions for as long as I can remember. I have always been detail oriented, trying to make things better than they are. I can’t help it. Working in a prison as a counselor, I was trained to write well because reports had to be accurate and understood by everyone. My visual issues have also helped me to be a better editor because I have always read only one word at a time. It’s difficult to miss mistakes that way.  

Have you ever felt as if you were being dictated to while you wrote a book--as if the words came of their own accord? If yes, which book did that happen with? I co-authored one book, Jumpstarting Your Inner Novelist by Julius Thompson. That was a snap because I wrote about editing and the usage of proper grammar. In this case, the answer is yes.

I’ve edited over 50 novels to date, along with some nonfiction, and I am currently in between novels, waiting for writers to complete their manuscripts.  

What’s your favorite time management tip? Time management is not really an issue for me because I am currently retired and I will not edit against an unreasonable deadline. I know that the slow turtle wins the race. Nothing rushed is ever done well.

If you had one take-away piece of advice for authors, what would it be? Please don’t rush the writing process because if you do, expect to pay more in the long run. Your writing will probably be shoddy and you will end up paying your editor a fortune to edit your manuscript.

Did music help you find your muse with this book? If yes, which song did you find yourself going back to over and over again as you wrote? I love listening to music but not while I’m editing because I need my full concentration to do the job right.

Tell me more about Wish You Were Here Badfinger, a Rock Fantasy by Joyce Isaacson… Here is the back cover blurb.

WISH YOU WERE HERE Badfinger, a Rock Fantasy is a novel that crosses the love between band brothers with the pop-paranormal, set to a killer soundtrack. Badfinger’s Tommy Evans, after years of depression following the death of a beloved band mate, Pete Ham, slips into heaven by the skin of his teeth. Guided by an angel, Gabriel, he sets out on a Dantean voyage through the strata of the afterlife to reunite with his lost lead singer, Pete Ham. Along the way, Tommy encounters a repertoire of famous faces—chafing against, laughing with, and learning from each one in the fierce quest for his best friend’s soul. WISH YOU WERE HERE BADFINGER is a novel about after-death adventure, rules, and posthumous love. It features the overtly fictionalized spirits of real-world artists, performers, and thinkers to explore questions about legacy—but not always to answer them… and to say “Blimey” from time-to-time.

How about an excerpt from Wish You Were Here Badfinger, a Rock Fantasy? Here is the first segment of chapter 1….

This is remarkable but where am I going? I’m spiraling upward at a very high rate of speed, surrounded by colors that appear to be morphing one into the other. I seem to be heading toward an infinite white light. Now, I see other people stepping onto a soft substance.

Who is this gigantic person standing behind that dark wooden podium? As if by magic, I’m being jostled into line while others arrive behind me. I seem to have no control over my actions. What is going on here? Now I see a bright white gate and there’s a tall man with piercing blue eyes standing in front of it.

I watched intently as the towering man signaled with his hand; some people were directed to the left, others to the right. Without warning, he beckoned me to the right. Right or left, what does that mean?  Now I am being unceremoniously directed to sit in a yellow padded chair, several others are doing the same. I’m dressed in me blue Jeans, a corduroy jacket and gym shoes. Nervous as a cat in heat, I touch me sideburns over and over, afraid of what’s next; I just want to get this waiting over with. Suddenly I have to abandon me seat for another seat, as the line moves along slowly. Blimey! How much time has gone by? The line seems endless. I wonder what is beyond the gate. What’s up ahead?

“Come here, Tom Evans.” A man with wings gestured for me to get up and follow him to a room and take another seat; of course, I have no choice.

Sitting down in front of a medium-sized screen floating ten feet in front of me, the only bright thing in this very dark room, I rested me hands in an upright position on me legs. Where the Hell am I?

It’s so dark in here, I can’t see the chair or even me hands and I can’t tell if the person has left or is still here. Wait! A movie is beginning, but I see a little baby. I’m seeing me life story before me eyes, and suddenly I am remembering all of the details of me life!

What are those things that look like rosary beads on top of the screen? I sat in that dark room, thinking as I watched me movie. Each time I did something good in me movie I obtained a bead on the right side. Every time I did something wrong, I received a bead on the left side. The beads are moving as if by magic from place to place and I can only watch it happen. I see more beads on the left side than the right. Finally, I know what the left side means. Now there's a scale on the side of the screen. In awe, I watched the beads fall into the scales as it tipped to the left. I’m shaken to the core of me being, but I don’t know why.

I screamed, “OK, get it over with! Send me to Hell already!”

A luminous figure appeared out of nowhere. I think that happens a lot around here.

“You were a good father, Tom. You were kind to family and friends, and you suffered from depression, something not always your fault and you played a benefit concert. Charity is a big thing here. Tom Evans, are you sorry for the bad things you have done in your life?”

“Yes, I am!”

I wiped me tearful eyes with me right hand. The scale tipped to the right.

“Our time is over. Your guide will take you the rest of the way.”

Standing up from me seat, the glowing figure pointed toward a bright light.

Out of curiosity I followed that light out of the darkness.

I heard a voice calling me name, “Tom Evans?”

“Who’s there?”

Me eyes started to adjust to the bright light, seeing a man sporting two white glowing wings almost as tall as me. Walking in front of the being, I noticed he’s wearing a white gown. A light surrounded his face; he has short brown hair framing his teardrop shaped eyes and a soft smile. Blimey!

“You are calling me, right?”

“Yes, I am here to help you get settled into your new surroundings.”

“Where am I going?”

“…To Level 5 for now. Until you’re ready to advance, you will stay there. Souls don't just sit on their laurels. They are always moving.”

“…Really, what’s Level 5?”

“It’s part of Heaven, you ask a lot of questions, Tom. But that is also the part of the process.”

Yes, I have so many questions about me afterlife or is this just a dream?

“Hold my hand and I will bring you to Level 5.”

Taking the angel’s hand, I became light on me feet, flying through strobes of color, seeing another soul traveling in the opposite direction. Where is that soul going? I wondered to myself.

We landed, the flight seemed shorter than me first trip.

Where can writers find more about your editing acumen and you on the Internet?

Moneysaver Editing : https://moneysaver104158167.wordpress.com/ (still in the making)

LinkedIn : https://www.linkedin.com/in/dennis-de-rose-15262917/ (my most developed site to date)

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Moneysaver.Editing/ (not my favorite choice)

Dennis De Rose aka Moneysaver Editing, thank you so much for being with us here today. I know my writers will enjoy your interview. Sharon, thank you. I would love to expand on anything you deem necessary.

New Release: One Night in Havana by Kathleen Rowland

One Night in Havana 

#34 in the City Nights Series from Tirgearr Publishing

by Kathleen Rowland

Kathleen will be awarding 3 lucky winners a $10 Amazon Gift Certiticate. Winners will be chosen randomly with Rafflecopter. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here. About the Book:   A desperate competition and sizzling attraction leads to dangerous desire. New York Marine biologist Veronica “Roni” Keane is attending the Havana Bay Conference in Cuba. Tomorrow only one grant will be awarded which will provide the winner with professional recognition, resources for a project, and living expenses for two years. She hopes to continue her deceased father’s work, but smooth operator, Carlos Montoya, has won many grants in the past. Carlos, a freelancer for the Havana Port Authority, works to help protect Havana’s reputation as a bastion of safety. As international travelers flock to the island, attracted by its 1950’s time-warp and colonial architecture, the drug business is running rampant, particularly on Roni’s cruise ship. Something’s not right, and when her scuba tanks are tampered with, Carlos brings in the military police to investigate. For her safety, he keeps her close, but he craves her body. Their attraction leads to a fun night with a bit of kink. But Roni finds herself in more trouble than she bargained for when the criminals blame her for alerting the military police and come looking for her. Can Roni trust Carlos to protect her? Will she stay in Havana if Carlos wins the coveted grant, or kiss her lover goodbye? An erotic romance with mystery.  Amazon Buy Link Excerpt: -- Chapter One

“Why, Veronica Keane.” A voice heavy with a Spanish accent drawled from behind her. “A dive bar?” A taunting tsk. “What do we have? A slumming New Yorker?”

She stiffened and closed her eyes. She knew that voice and its owner, Dr. Carlos Montoya, a finalist like her, competing for the same damn grant at the biggest Cephalopoda conference of the decade. Her heart pitter-pattered against her ribs. To turn toward him would intimate distress, or worse yet, weakness. She wouldn’t fail to win this grant, not when she was a final contender. “I like this funky little place.” Sia Macario Café, smack in the center of Havana, allowed her to observe locals and their daily lives.

“You need to eat with all the mojitos you’ve downed.” The big tease wasn’t  counting. This was her first drink, but his rumbling, sexy timbre hinted at all kinds of dark, hot promises. She’d rubbed shoulders with the Cuban scientist all week. This splendid specimen of Latin male brought on a physical ache that punched low.

A flare-up stirred fear. For her own good, she needed to resist. “I ordered camarones enchiladas.” By now she knew the menu on the chalkboard by heart. She tipped her head back to whiff grilled shrimp soon to arrive in sofrito sauce with fried sweet plantains.

“The flan is good. Just like my abuela makes.”

“I bet. Your grandmother would be happy to hear that,” she said, knowing he brought out the best in most people. Two days ago he'd invited her and a handful of others scuba diving. The chance to ogle him had been one of the perks. He’d worn nothing but swim trunks, his bare chest on display. Every glistening muscle was finely etched. Not a drop of fat on him. Since he’d not given her the time of day, she’d checked him out without him noticing.

The hard-bodied host had led the way toward habitats of soft-bodied creatures. To find where invertebrates lived was never an easy task. Octopuses squeezed into narrow passages of coral for protection and gave females a place to keep their eggs. She’d discovered the remains of a few meals nearby.Octopuses scattered rocks and shells to help them hide.

 This grant meant so much to her and no doubt to him as well. Veronica mindlessly toyed with the gold necklace around her neck, but anxiety crackled through her brain. Unlike this man of action, she lacked the flamboyant personality necessary to talk people into things. Carlos had that ability. He'd made friends with judges on board while she’d conversed with an older woman about a box of scones made with Cuban vanilla cream.

That day the wind had picked up to a gale force, and this woman named Bela with Lucille Ball red hair needed help walking to her home. The half mile down the seaside promenade, The Malecón, had provided her with time to practice her Spanish. Turned out Bela was Carlos’s grandmother. She’d worked as a maid when the Castro government came to power. When private homes were nationalized, titles were handed over to the dwelling occupants. Bela owned a crumbling home in the respected Verdado district and rented out rooms.

What Veronica detested about Carlos was his abnormal level of talent for schmoozing. Not that he wasn't charismatic; he drew her like a powerful magnet with emotions hard to untangle. Why was a self-assured woman who ran her own life thinking about a man who commanded everyone around him?

She inhaled a breath and turned around on the barstool, caught fast by a gut punch of Carlos Montoya in the flesh. She sighed and surrendered to the tendrils of want sliding up between her thighs.

Tall and muscular, his lush dark hair curled to his collar giving him a wild, roguish appearance. His face was lean and chiseled. His mouth full and tempting. His eyes the smoky-gray of a grass fire and fringed with black lashes as dense as paintbrushes. He smiled. A faint hint of mockery curved his mouth, a sensual mouth she imagined to be either inviting or cruel. Or both at the same time when he leaned over a woman with a diamond-hard gleam in his dark eyes while she drowned with pleasure. She fought a fierce desire to run her hand across his broad chest, tip her face upward, and…

His breath tickled her face.

Not going there. She blinked and forced her mind to focus. Carlos Montoya was not the kind of man you lost focus around. But that image of putting her mouth full on his and peeling away his shirt once introduced in her mind was impossible to expunge. Pointless even to try.

He was an intimidating blend of intellect and sexy danger. Both qualities had her leaning back against the bar’s edge. If it weren’t for him, she’d have a chance at winning the grant.

His lips twitched. “You’re staying on one of the cruise ships, am I right?” He rolled up the sleeves of his linen jacket to reveal a dusting of manly hair.

”Yes." Her cabin served as her hotel room while attending the January meetings with perfect high-seventies temperatures. His eyes locked with hers. She willed herself to move and yet she remained seated, clutching heat between her legs, a wetness so intense that her breath stalled in her chest while her heart hammered faster. Soon she’d return to freezing New York City.

“So, Bonita, give.” He slid onto the bar stool next to her. “What brings you down from a lofty ship to grace us lowly Cubans with your presence?”

Bonita. Pretty lady was not an endearment coming from the mouth curved in a taunting smile, but not a slight either. Not with his deep, melodic voice speaking words as if he knew secrets about her. What secrets did he know? Would he pry into her personal life? She doubted this bad-boy college professor acknowledged boundaries.

“Just drinks and dinner.” She scrambled for composure. “Aren’t we attending a world-class conference? I find the local population to be friendly and kind. That’s not slumming.”

The bartender set down a saoco. “Hope you like it, senorita.”

“Gracias,” she said. “Very nice, served in a coconut.”

“Ah, the saoco,” Carlos said. “Rum, lime juice, sugar, and ice. The saoco,” he repeated, disbelief heavy in his words. “Um. Wow. Once used as a tonic for prisoners of the revolution.”

“Medicinal?” She couldn’t help it. She chuckled and sounded as if a rusty spoon had scraped her throat raw, but it was genuine. The warm glow in its wake was welcome and needed. .

He leaned an elbow on the bar, his beer bottle with the green-and-red Cristal label dangling between his fingers. “Be careful with that one.” He dipped his head toward the front door as if he needed to go somewhere soon.

That fast, the glow snuffed out. She cleared her throat and gripped the fuzzy surface of the coconut container.

He placed a five-peso coin with a brass plug on the counter and whirled it. The spinning motion mirrored a dizzying attraction going on in low parts of her belly.

She cleared her wayward mind and nodded toward artwork on the opposite wall. “I plan to buy a painting tonight.”

“Don’t buy anything unless the seller gives you a certificate. You’ll need one to take art from Cuba. Artists deal in euros in case you don’t have pesos.”

She’d come prepared but said, “Thanks for the info.”

His coal-black eyes widened as he gazed from her head down to the tiny straps around her ankles as if she wore high heels and nothing else. “You give off a Barbie doll image,” he replied and stood up.

“Huh?”

“Where’s Ken, anyway? Kenneth Morton. He came with you to the talks in Antarctica. Five years ago.” He grinned, and the mortification in her belly gave way to a longing which she had no business feeling toward her competitor.

“Ken and I broke up.” She hesitated for a moment. “You have a gift for remembering names. Like a salesman.”

“A person’s name is, to that person, the most important and sweetest sound. Back then I introduced myself to Ken in the men’s room.”

“I remember now. Didn’t you give a talk on a specialized pigment in the octopus?”

“Ahh, si.” He splayed his fingers over his chest. “A pigment in their blood is—”

 “—called hemocyanin. Turns their blood blue and helps them survive subfreezing temperatures. Were you awarded something?”

“The antifreeze protein grant? No. It went to a deep-diving photographer. He wasn’t chicken about getting lost or trapped under the ice.”

She slid from her stool and strutted around, jutting her chin in and out like a chicken. “Bock, bock, bock, bock, bock, begowwwwk.”

He chuckled. “Cute chicken dance. Very cute in that skimpy black dress.”

Her cheeks heated, and she clutched her necklace. He’d seen plenty of women in body-fitting attire. In Cuba, women wore dresses to meetings. If she'd harnessed sexier mojo, she’d have livened up presentations. Her presentations with an abundance of dull data went south. She slid back against her stool and clutched her purse to her stomach as if the small satin bag could calm the nerves playing deep down kickball. She belonged in her tidy New York office filled with computers, modems, and research manuals. Not in this softly lit café where passion oozed from a man’s pores, and artists displayed their canvases. Here was where Havana’s trendsetters congregated, and Ernest Hemingway wrote about desire.

“Good luck with your purchases, Veronica Keane.”

Okay, so they weren’t going to pretend they were going head to head for the grant.

As if he had more to say, he grinned at her, his perfect white teeth flashing.. “Do you find us different, like apples and oranges?”

“What am I, an apple or an orange?”

“Hmm. You’re an apple.” He was doing that sexy voice thing which made her brain shut down. Heady. 

It started with an unexpected spark, an instant attraction, the jolting jab of oh-I’m-feeling-something. Something like a flashfire in her belly, but now they were talking. “Am I the apple of desire? Want to take a bite out of me?” She pulled in a breath. Had she really said that?

“Bonita, do I ever.”

“Tomorrow is the final ceremony.” Would she watch him walk to the podium to accept the grant? 

About the Author: 

Book Buyers Best finalist Kathleen Rowland is devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes suspense with an erotic love story sure to melt their hearts.  Her latest release is One Night in Havana, #34 in the City Nights series.

Kathleen also has a steamy romantic suspense series with Tirgearr Publishing, Deadly Alliance is followed by Unholy Alliance. Keep an icy drink handy while reading these sizzling stories.

Kathleen used to write computer programs but now writes novels.   She grew up in Iowa where she caught lightning bugs, ran barefoot, and raced her sailboat on Lake Okoboji.  Now she wears flip-flops and sails with her husband, Gerry, on Newport Harbor but wishes there were lightning bugs in California.

Kathleen exists happily with her witty CPA husband, Gerry, in their 70’s poolside retreat in Southern California where she adores time spent with visiting grandchildren, dogs, one bunny, and noisy neighbors.  While proud of their five children who’ve flown the coop, she appreciates the luxury of time to write.

If you’d enjoy news,  sign up for Kathleen’s newsletter at http://www.kathleenrowland.com/

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New Release: Our Love Is Here To Stay By Madison Michael

 
Our Love Is Here To Stay By Madison Michael

Madison has some fabulous giveaways for this tour. Remember you may visit the other tour stops to increase your chances of winning. You may find those locations here.  Romance and TimeTravel Prize Package #1: Includes  Books: Outlander, Time Traveler's Wife and Beyond the Highland Mist and  DVDs: Somewhere in Time, The Lake House, the eBook Our Love Is Here To Stay. Romance and TimeTravel Prize Package #2: One of the books above and 1 of the DVDs plus the eBook for Our Love Is Here To Stay. Romance and TimeTravel Prize Package #3: One of the books above or one DVD plus the eBooks Our Love Is Here To Stay.

About the Book: 

Can Love Transcend Time? Thirty-year old Matthew Herrington is weary of solo nights in strange cities. He is ready for a change. And that is exactly what he gets when he steps into Swing Night at The Green Mill and is instantly immersed in the sights and sounds of another era. Intrigued by the club’s authenticity, Matthew is enchanted when he meets Patty, a mixture of sexy and sweet who steals his heart. Patty Dennison has never met a man like Matthew in all her twenty-one years. A sophisticated man, he stands out from the usual Swing Night crowd. He is self-assured, smart, charming, and handsome as hell, even if he is a lousy dancer. Once he takes her in his arms, Patty is more than willing to give him a few dance lessons along with her heart. Repeated missed dates and unanswered phone calls strain the relationship and frustrate the pair. But unraveling their mystery exposes an impossible scenario, one that will torment their sanity and test their love. How can they make their fairytale last? Can love transcend time? Buy Links:  Amazon | All other formats 

Excerpt: 

 A waitress came to take it off his hands. “Another?” she queried and he nodded agreement, placing a crumpled dollar on her tray. “Too much,” she told him shaking her head no. Matthew was surprised by her response but the tray was covered with loose change so he removed his bill and left the equivalent in quarters. Everything was so inexpensive but the server still needed to make a decent living.

She gave him a grateful smile and turned to move to her next customer, carefully balancing her tray above the heads of the young people around her. In the process, she nudged Matthew slightly causing him to lose his footing and fall gently against another body. Turning to apologize he found himself staring into the clearest, lightest blue eyes he had ever seen. He couldn’t look away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled when he finally regained his composure.

“That’s okay,” she replied with a quick, bright smile. She was lovely, in a wholesome girl next door way. She had her blond hair pulled into a ponytail that curled like a hair product ad, clear-skinned cheeks that were pink with warmth and perhaps exertion, and a curvy body displayed under a bright red sweater and a flared plaid skirt.

Matthew felt his mouth go dry and his palms get sweaty. She did something to him, this fresh faced woman that he found incredibly sexy. Her red lipstick was a slash of bright color mimicking the red of the sweater. Until this moment, bright red lipstick screamed “tough broad, stay away” to Matthew but on this girl it whispered “come hither.”

“Matthew,” he squeaked out, extending his hand to shake hers. Thinking twice about it, he retracted his arm, running his palm against his pants swiftly, and hopefully surreptitiously, before he extended his hand again.

“Patty,” she responded, placing her soft fingers in his large palm. She shook like a girl. After all the bone-breaking handshakes Matthew had endured across the globe, this limp, fingers-only shake surprised him. She looked athletic, not tough but toned, and not sickly pale like most Chicagoans in winter. The handshake didn’t match the image and normally would have bothered him. Nothing about Patty bothered him. Everything about her bothered him.

Author Bio and links:

Madison Michael traded 28 years in Fortune 500 tech and management positions for a chance to spend her days with sassy heroines, sexy, rich heroes and nothing but happy endings. Growing up the daughter of a librarian, she learned to love books, especially classics and romances, and spent winters cuddled under blankets losing herself in books.

Madison is the author of three novels in the Beguiling Bachelor series, as well as several short stories. She is a member of Romance Writers of America.

After living in the northeast, southeast and the west, Maddy returned to her Midwest roots. She lives in Evanston, IL with two feline editorial assistants and great views of Chicago’s famous skyline.

Contact her at: Website | Madison's Blog | Maddy's Romance Madness | Facebook | Twitter

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