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N. N. Light's Book Heaven's exclusive interview with Evelyn Timidaiski @WildRosePress #autho

I love meeting authors from all walks of life and it was through a referral that I got the chance to meet Evelyn Timidaiski. I read and reviewed her latest release, A Soldier’s Honor, earlier this month. I was so impressed with her story that I asked her to sit down with me for an interview. Nothing too fancy, just two women sitting down for a chat. She agreed and I have to tell you, I had such a great time. So grab a cup of your favorite brew and join us!

What is your writing process?

I’m not a very organized writer though I’ve struggled to become one. I find myself most creative after 10:00 pm. So, when others are cozying up in bed, I sit in front of my computer in my pjs, sipping diet coke and writing. Most times I work from a bare outline and things pop into my head as I go.

Do you have any odd writing habits?

I always write from the male POV first. I’ve tried starting with the female first and it just doesn’t work for me—hence the half-written mystery abandoned in my files.

Just as your books inspire authors, what authors have inspired you?

I would have to say Christine Feehan, Robyn Carr, Jane Anne Krentz, and Nora Roberts. Each of these authors is a master storyteller.

If you could cast your characters in the Hollywood adaptation of your book, who would play your characters?

David Boreanaz would definitely be Brandon Falcon. Oddly enough, I pictured him when writing the character. Now, he actually plays a Navy SEAL. I think Reese Witherspoon would play Dr. Mira Phelps. She brings the feisty, ‘I can do this,’ attitude to her roles. Rafà would have to be Christian Bale. No one can do BADASS like him. Jackson Favre is upbeat and a chick magnet. Matt Damon comes to mind. Wow! What a cast that would be.

How important are names to you in your books? Do you choose the names based on liking the way it sounds or the meaning?

I’m very picky about names. I keep a running list of names I hear and like. It gets difficult when I need to choose a name because of nationality or culture. I also create names on the fly. I’ve changed names of characters before. One of my futuristic character’s name had several accents. When I began writing, the accents combined with the appropriate punctuation made an unsightly mess. Her name was changed.

What do you consider to be your best accomplishment?

Publishing this book. It’s the first book I wrote. I published two others but this one is special. I knew nothing about writing when I started. My daughter can attest to the mess I made. POV? HEA? Story Arc? These were alien concepts. BUT—there was a story there and I persisted. The characters of this book have become like family to me. It’s comforting they’ve found their place in the world.

Have you always liked to write?

I’ve always liked to talk and tell stories. It wasn’t until I was much older that I began to write. My high school English teacher taught me to love words. Thanks Mr. C. The only thing I’ve never been able to do is journal. I like to make up stories about other people. I can control those—yep, I’m a control freak!

What writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?

Keep writing. Join a writer’s group (mine is online). Sharing your work in a group of caring writers/critiquers, improves your work immensely. Yeah—it hurts at first, but if you’re in a quality group, they’ll be sharing too. READ! My favorite help book still sits within reach. The Everything Guide To Writing A Romance Novel by Christie Craig and Faye Hughes.

Are you a plotter or a pantster?

I’m definitely a panster. I start a book with an idea, but no plan. (sheepish look) My characters are in the driver’s seat and take me into some interesting situations. They’ve left me in Mangrove swamps with helicopters firing at me and did I mention one of them can’t swim? When I get stuck, I sleep on it. Usually in the morning, I have dreamed up the solution. With the second book of this series, A Love Rekindled, I’m trying out some planning techniques. So far, they seem to be working.

Do you read your reviews? Do you respond to them, good or bad? Do you have any advice on how to deal with the bad?

Absolutely. I don’t always respond but I should. Every reader has the right to their opinion. I wish more readers took the time to provide constructive criticism. “I didn’t like it,” isn’t very helpful. Tell the author what you didn’t like. “The pacing was slow.” “The hero sounds weak.” These are the types of criticisms which can help an author improve their work. I cry like any other writer who hears bad things about their work. I also share and discuss it with my writer’s group. Sharing the pain helps.

What are you working on now? What is your next project?

Currently I’m awaiting word on my Fantasy novel TIPONI. It’s a futuristic novel based on Native American Culture and myths. Tiponi shows a young woman’s struggle to overcome self-doubt and cosmic forces to save her people. My next projects include completing A Love Rekindled and working on a new Sci/fantasy called SEEDERS.

Thank you so much for sharing, Evelyn. I learned so much about you and your writerly journey. Readers, to read more about Evelyn's latest release, scroll down.

Title A Soldier’s Honor

Author Evelyn Timidaiski

Genre Romantic Suspense

Publisher The Wild Rose Press

Book Blurb

A botched rescue operation leaves Navy SEAL, Brandon Falcon, one chance to salvage his good name: rescue a medical missionary from rebel forces, drag her kicking and screaming through the jungle to the extraction point, and search for his best friend who went MIA during the last mission. Dr. Mira Phelps has one goal—discover a way to help children maimed by war. She sneaks into Honduras following a coup… She's desperate to find the Blue Spider Orchid, purported to have miraculous healing powers. The brawny SEAL who rescues her is ready to leave the country, quickly— she must convince him to help her find the life-saving orchid.

Pitted against desperate men, unable to trust anyone, the red-hot passion sparking between Mira and Brandon threatens to bring them to an explosive end--before they discover a lasting love.


El Liano, Honduras, 1100 Hours, Zulu

An engine, low and growling, clawed its way up

the steep incline. Moments later, a truck painted

military green crested the hill. He rechecked the

settings on his Recon rifle, rotated his head once, and

exhaled through pursed lips. He took aim with his high-powered

scope and fired. Crimson bloomed across the

forehead of the driver as the shattered windshield fell

inward. The hapless soldier crumpled against the

steering wheel, his head twisted at a grotesque angle.

After the truck left the track and crashed into a tree,

a soldier armed with an AK-47 flung open the

passenger door. Brandon’s shot hit him between the

eyes before his feet hit the ground. Flaps at the back of

the truck flipped up; three more soldiers burst from the

vehicle, immediately laying down ground fire. Taking

his time, Brandon picked off each with three efficient

shots before he approached the truck.

His gaze darted everywhere as he ran fast and low

to the vehicle. Mere seconds passed, long enough to

check each of the fallen soldiers. He dropped to the

ground and belly crawled beneath the vehicle.

The engine ticked. Hot oil from the ruptured pan

dripped over his hand as he placed the C-4 charge on

the axle, and then crept to the back of the truck. Rifle

ready, he crawled out and cautiously peered into the

darkened truck bed.

The package.

A ratty blanket, tied with knotted rope, hid

everything except a blonde curl and patch of white

forehead. His gut clenched. The truck rocked beneath

his weight as he climbed in and lightly touched the

wrapped body. She didn’t move. Before the raw pain of

another failed mission tied him into knots, he grabbed

the blanket-shrouded form, threw it over his shoulder

fireman style, and exited the truck.

“Please, be alive,” he prayed as he sprinted for the

cover of the jungle.

He was rewarded by a moan from the tightly

wrapped blanket.

Good, she was alive. Now to make sure they both

stayed that way. He ran toward the mountains. Without

slowing his pace, he activated the remote detonator.

The truck exploded, drowning out the jungle sounds

around him. The explosion bought him a few minutes

head start.

Thunder vibrated the air around him; the heavens

opened, and torrents of rain forced him to slow his

pace. He welcomed the deluge. The downpour would

wash away his tracks. The soldiers would pursue, and

he couldn’t outrun them. He’d have to hide—couldn’t

risk a stray bullet hitting the doctor. Ahead, the roar of

a swollen stream rose louder than the noise of the rain.

He slid through a cluster of shrubs, slipped into the

water, and dug in against the bank.


Icy waves washed over Mira’s body, shocking her

awake. Drums pounded in her head. The bitter taste of

fear burned in her mouth. Gasping, her mind foggy, she

tried to remember. The clinic—the rebels. As panic

seized her, she struggled against the rough ropes

binding her.

Her body yanked against something solid. No, not

something, someone. Why was someone holding her in

the water? Adrenaline surged through her veins,

burning a pathway to her brain.

Drowning was her biggest fear. Dear God, how had

they known? She had to fight. She expended the last of

her strength, arched her body backwards, and freed a

small part of her face from the blanket folds. Fresh air

sucked in through her lips, ready to fuel her scream.

A large hand clamped over her mouth, stifled her

scream. She bit down hard on the flesh covering her

face and tasted blood for her efforts.

A muffled curse rumbled. “Jesus…”

Good, she’d hurt back.

The raspy voice whispered close to her ear. “Make

a sound, and we’re both dead.”

Her drugged mind fought for clarity. She didn’t

think she recognized the voice from the clinic.

Squirming, she struggled to get out of the folds of the


Wait, her foggy brain whispered. He’d spoken in


“Shh. Be still. I’m trying to help you.”

Even through the rough fabric of the blanket, his

breath smelled clean. No whiskey or rank cigar

smoke—like the others. “Who…?”

“There’s no time. Stay quiet. The rebels are right

behind us.”

The message and its urgency penetrated the blanket

and cleared some part of her brain. They were in

danger, and she couldn’t risk more questions. She

leaned in, tired of fighting.

“Shh, I’ve got you.”


The hissed order to fan out and search the

underbrush came from a few feet away. Had he left

tracks? No, he’d been careful, and the rain would have

washed away any evidence. The footsteps shuffled in

his direction.

“Ma’am,” he warned, “we’re going under water.

Take a deep breath and hold it.”

“No, please, I can’t.”

Brandon stared intently into her eyes. “There’s no

other way.” She looked like a frightened animal, afraid

to run and more afraid to remain. He put pressure on

her shoulders, willing her to comply. She was clearly

scared to death but gave him a slight nod.

“Now,” he whispered.

Soundlessly, he sank beneath the water.

He held his breath for a minute and then rolled to

his side, placing himself between the shore and her

body. Her head stayed barely above water as he half

walked, half floated them downstream. If they were

seen from the opposite shore, his dark form could be

taken for a caiman, a crocodile-like reptile indigenous

to the area.

They reached a shallow spot; he pulled her from

the stream. Hiding behind a thicket, he cut the ropes

holding the blanket, then her bindings. Her ankles and

wrists were raw and bloody. He turned her over and

sucked in an uneven breath. Short, blonde curls

surrounded her bruised and swollen face—her skin

deathly pale.

Damn, she wasn’t breathing. He placed an ear to

her chest, tilted her chin back, and blew into her mouth.

Arms extended, he applied quick compressions to her

chest and watched for signs of life. “Come on, lady;

don’t give up on me now.”

Buy Links


I’m one of the authors participating in the Spring Into Freebies Giveaway and you can win an e-copy of A Soldier’s Honor, print copy of by Holly and Snowflake Christmas or print copy of Return to Snowflake by Evelyn M. Timidaiski.

Runs April 1 - 30 and is open internationally.

Winner will be drawn May 1, 2019.

Author Biography

Evelyn M. Timidaiski is a published author of romance, intrigue, and suspense.

While Evelyn enjoys writing in many settings, from the jungles of Central America to a distant planet in outer space, her favorite settings incorporate elements of Native American culture and folklore.

Evelyn was born outside Charleston, South Carolina, and worked as a high school teacher of biology for many years before she found her true calling as a writer. Other past careers have included being a geology lab assistant, seamstress for a casino theater (yay, sequins!), a South Carolina Justice Department assistant, and a special education teacher's assistant. Hobbies that she wishes she could turn into a career include antique shop plundering and taking pictures of cool old barns.

In her personal life, Evelyn has two grown children, one granddaughter, and two adorable lap dogs named Bitsy and Fancy.

Besides writing, Evelyn's other interests include traveling, photography, and watercolor painting. Her past research trips include a visit to the Hopi Reservation in Arizona for an upcoming book combining Native American folklore, science fiction, and romance. She hopes to travel one day to Central America to research a new series of romance novels about a Special Ops military team deployed to retrieve an American Ambassador there. Stay tuned to her page for news on future releases!

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