We’re proud to welcome Misty Simon to A Writer’s House this week. 
Misty Simon loves a good story and decided one day that she would try her hand at it. Eventually she got it right. There’s nothing better in the world than making someone laugh, and she hopes everyone at least snickers in the right places when reading her books. She lives with her husband, daughter and three insane dogs in Central Pennsylvania where she is hard at work on her next novel or three. She loves to hear from readers, so drop her a line at misty@mistysimon.com
Thank you for being with us Misty. I can’t wait to hear what you have up your sleeve. Tell me about your latest release.
This is the last Ivy Morris Mystery in the series. Box Six ties it all up. I’ve loved writing Ivy throughout the years and am sad to see her go, but she’s grown into the woman I always knew she could be and it’s time for both of us to move on to new adventures.
Readers have enjoyed watching Ivy grow up as well. What’s next for our intrepid sleuth?
I loved the idea of a tomato tournament with Ben trying his hand out at growing and cooking. And it seemed perfect that one of the judges would die for reasons unknown to anyone. I always love to complicate Ivy’s life.
Was there anything that complicated your life in writing this particular book?
It was one of the hardest books I’ve ever written, knowing that it was the end. I had to tell myself over and over again that I wanted to do her justice and see this through. It took a while but I finally did.
You certainly did! I know how exciting it is to finish a book. I can’t imagine putting “the end” on a series. That’s quite an accomplishment. What’s a favorite milestone in your career so far?
Anytime I have a new book in my hands! Also the fact that I have now signed with a traditional publisher for a new mystery series which will be my very first mass-market paperback!
That’s incredible! Congratulations, Misty! Tell me more.
Tallie Graver will be starring in her own new mystery series starting in November and coming out from Kensington Publishing.
I know I can’t wait to read the new series and I’m sure your readers will feel the same. So leave us with some last, best words of wisdom that keep you going when things are tough.
First, think. Second, believe. Third, dream. And finally, dare. Walt Disney. This speaks to me because before anything else you have to believe in yourself. There are going to be days where you might be the only one who does, but your dreams are important and you are the only one who can give yourself the time, the space and the love to make them come true.
Thank you so much for being here today, Misty. And best of luck on the new series with Kensington. Now, let’s take a quick look at your latest release, Hoedown Showdown available from The Wild Rose Press.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. McIntyre,” Myrt said with her face close to his, her hand patting his chest. There was a crinkling noise, but she was still talking. “So very sorry. When Irma died last year in her sleep after winning her forty-ninth straight tournament, I thought I finally had a chance, and now I hit you, and I’m so very, very sorry, and I can’t believe I mistook you for a burglar.” She twisted her hands together like she was wringing out a dishtowel. And she was going to draw blood if she continued biting her lip in between babbling some more.
I had few choices right now. I have to admit here that I had no desire whatsoever to call the police. I didn’t want to be involved in things. I had plans this week. This was not going to keep me from swinging from the freaking chandelier if I could.
Of course, I could go across the street and call from the house, or have Ben call and then remove myself from the situation altogether. But that would be completely unfair to Mrs. Crandall.
I couldn’t help myself. I let out a scream that would have brought down an opera house, something between frustration and fright because, at that moment, something furry ran against my leg before shooting into the bushes.
In the end, the decision of what to do was taken out of my hands because the police came tearing up in the one marked car in town, screeching to a halt at the curb. A man in uniform was out of the car before I could blink again. And I’m glad I didn’t blink because I would have missed the way he jumped from the car and then did a forward roll across the front lawn as if he was in some crazy-assed shootout.
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