I’d like to welcome romantic comedy author Vicki Batman, who is as addicted to handbags as I’m addicted to bracelets. Vicki is an award-winning and Amazon bestselling author and has sold many romantic comedy works to the True magazines, several publishers, and most recently, two romantic comedy mysteries to The Wild Rose Press. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and several writing groups. An avid Jazzerciser. Handbag lover. Mahjong player. Yoga practitioner. Movie fan. Book devourer. Chocoholic. Best Mom ever. And adores Handsome Hubby. Most days begin with her hands set to the keyboard and thinking “What if??”
What genre(s) do you write in? Why?
I write romantic comedy short stories and romantic comedy mysteries. The stories are pretty much just what comes out of me and written in first person pov.
What is your favorite part of writing?
I love writing the first draft and when reaching the end, sigh and go back and edit, etc. I am notorious about leaving out setting and description in that first draft. Sigh.
How much research was involved in writing your book? How did you go about it?
I love vintage needlepoint handbags, but I really LOVE Enid Collins bags. These bejeweled and stenciled bags were sold at Neiman Marcus in the sixties. My story “Holiday Handbag Extravaganza” features my version on an Enid Collins box bag with stenciled holly. My research had me googling everywhere to find Christmas bags. A lot of fun and yes, I was tempted buy one…two…three… LOL
What else have you written already?
I’ve been writing for a while and my first sales were romantic comedy short stories to the True magazines. I’ve also had some e-pubbed. And last year, I sold a romantic comedy mystery to The Wild Rose Press.
Have you had other careers before becoming a writer?
Golly–yes, and don’t tell, but there are people, places, and incidents that make their way into my stories.
What do you keep on your desk?
At this desk is my computer screen, keyboard, mouse, a pencil jar full of #2 yellow mechanical pencils, a small clock shaped like a handbag, and a lamp fashioned from a clarinet.
What do you read? Do you read different genres when you’re writing versus not writing?
I have always read a lot of mysteries, beginning with Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden, then moved to more adult authors when older. I love reading historicals, but will never write one.
What’s your favorite film of all times? Favorite book? I have so many favorite films–Love, Actually, Pride and Prejudice, Stalag 17, Charlie Brown Christmas, White Christmas, Strictly Ballroom, Millions–It’s like choosing between my boys. My first favorite book is Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.
What might we be surprised to know about you?
I was Miss Oak Lawn Moped–it’s okay, you can laugh.
What music “soothes your soul”? Do you listen to music as you write?
Mostly, I listen to classical guitar as there are no words to bug my head, but I will tune in to classical and Frank.
Christmas Countdown is on! Hunk-a-licious customer, Jack Treadaway, pesters boutique owner, Callie Woods, to locate a vintage handbag for his mother. Too bad the wedge between them is his sister, the meanest girl in town.
What a mess.
The bell sitting on the counter above my head ding-ding-dinged in an irritating way. I huffed. Really?
Then I heard, “Hey,” —two dings— “I need help. Anybody working today?”
Despite the din assaulting my ears, I didn’t answer, and not because I was mean. Because I was a woman on a mission. It was imperative I retrieve the hundred dollar bill that had vanished when The Copper Teapot’s front door had erupted wide with a wintry gust. All kinds of stuff had gone flying like price tags, papers, and hard-earned moola. In today’s sucky economy, every smidgen of revenue mattered.
Obviously, this guy couldn’t see me crouched down on the floor. His toe tapping and bell ringing conveyed his impatience. Sticking the ruler in the gap between the floor and the showcase, I bit my lip and concentrated, waving the tool back and forth so I could snag the elusive dinero. Another three-note ding sounded, and I rolled my eyes before singsonging, “Just a…minute, please.”
Fingers drummed above my head. I shrugged my shoulders, thinking, rats. Every customer is important. Guess I should be a responsible business owner and do the right thing. “Be right with you.”
“Okay, but hurry.”
“Almost…there…Got it!” I jumped to my feet and dangled the money in his face. “Pay day.”
I finished my jig to check out the customer only to find —Oh By Golly— Jack, as in the Jack Treadaway, the hunky hunk from Sommerville High School days. I couldn’t believe this man graced my shop.
Why was he here?
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