Chat and WIN A KINDLE with Minette Meador!

Morning folks! Today we have guest-blogger Minette Meador in to chat with us about worldbuilding in her new release, A Ghost of a Chance. She's here as part of an extensive blog tour, and at the end of it she's giving away a Kindle to one lucky commenter and a $100 Amazon Gift Certificate to a second commenter, so be sure to visit all her stops and say hello--each comment gets you an entry into the prize drawing.

As always, let's begin with the cover art and the blurb.

Keenan Swanson is your typical, everyday graphic designer. Well, except for the hundreds of pesky, prank-loving poltergeists that make his life interesting (in a Chinese curse sort of way). He finds his situation precarious yet manageable—until witty, smoking-hot coworker Isabella enters the scene and Keenan decides he wants her all for himself. With a horny succubus who has other ideas, a burly city cop determined to lock Keenan away, and an evil entity who’s hell-bent on using Keenan’s seed to create a living demon, the reluctant psychic realizes he just might not come out of this alive—or with heart intact.

Sound fun? Here's a little tease of an excerpt--and one that'll fit right in for readers of this blog ;-)

Keenan headed down Thirty-second Street, turned left onto Hawthorn, and ran like an antelope with a lion biting his tail.

When he hit the crowd outside Taps at full speed, he came to a crashing halt and sailed to the ground, taking down two brawny beer drinkers, their respective girlfriends, and an innocent table that was sitting there minding its own business. Four obviously filled pints of stout flew through the air and the contents rained down on the struggling quintet in a dark brown shower, soaking all of them. Two of the empty pints hit Keenan squarely on the back of the head, one after the other.

The tangled pile of human beings and beer began to disentangle itself, but Keenan’s head was spinning wildly. So wildly, in fact, that he didn’t feel himself roughly yanked to his feet and then off of them, or see the swollen fist appear out of thin air until it was too late. All he heard was a distant son of a bitch and the sound of meaty flesh striking cheekbone.

The sparklers that gleamed in front of his eyes reminded him of the Fourth of July on the coast. He found himself down on the ground again.

“…you stupid prick!” The words soaked into his stupor and he squinted up to see six-foot-six of angry male mountain, a pleading red head attached to the man’s arm.

Not that it would have stopped another blow, but Keenan forced his hands into the submissive position and tried to find his voice. “Oh, man…” he said to the mountain. “I’m really sorry. Are you all right?”

And now let's turn things over to Minette, beneath the jump.