I, Marija (Maria) Salapanov Carpenter writing as MJ Markovski
began my journey of the fictional story of Whatever
It Takes in 2015 after my husband at the time left not only left me but my
children.
But the journey to writing seriously began in 2009/2010 when I
became disabled from a major attack from multiple sclerosis (MS). The doctors
thought at that time I would die but here I am. And the worst that had occurred
was that I am in an electronic wheelchair for mobility. I view it as God’s way
give me more time in writing.
I don’t allow my illness to define who I am.
In 2010 I completed my master’s in accounting, while recovering.
I completed my first modern young adult fantasy novel later that year.
Basically, related on Irish mythology and how the ancient race walks among us.
My daughter had just graduated kindergarten that year. And now
she’s on the brink of finishing up her sophomore year in high school. And she
is brilliant not only in science but in English as well.
I recovered quickly which had given me the time to write. And I
had chosen young adult because teenagers are fearless, shy exploring the world
of trying to become adults and fantasy because you can bend the rules within
reason. The title to that book is Not Dark Enough.
A year later I wrote another young adult fantasy titled Worse
Than Bad.
I would take writing courses in between to sharpen my craft.
While writing my first novel, Not Dark Enough, I did find a critique partner
who I still have currently. And I’ve written a couple short stories along the
way. Have some ideas for other stories to create in the background. But always
trying to find more time to write.
Here is a snippet from my book:
“Her heart dropped heavy like a brick. He wore a black -shirt,
loose black slacks, and black boots. His eyes were dark with a tight smile.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, pushing away loose strands
from her face. She glanced past him toward the exit, but she determined it was
too far. The Tiffany motivated chandelier lights glowed faintly in this
location. And there were plenty of little hideouts as well. If this guest
planned on rape, murder, or other miscreant activities on his mind he’d
cornered her in the perfect spot. The back of the hair on her neck stood
straight up.”
In a nutshell I do love to create great stories that explore
characters and their origins. Which is why I love to write complicated stories.
On the surface Whatever It Takes is a Romantic Suspense/Thriller on the surface
but it delves much deeper than that. The mind is such a complicated machine
that even today we are still scratching the surface to understand the brain.
Which was no surprise in my part what I would pick that genre as a storyteller.
Thank you for allowing me to be your guest on your blog. It has
been my pleasure.
Here is a sample from her book:
Chapter One
Regan
More
than five years had passed since Regan last walked into her brother’s rank and
musty service open garage in Parker, Texas. Her stomach jittered at the manly
smells—a mixture of gasoline, WD-40, brake parts cleaner, grease, welding
smoke, and tires. Heavy metal pounded from old speakers, nearly drowning out
the garage noises of a drill, distant traffic, and the light chirping of birds.
It was just another Monday in a town where whispers during summer were as
steamy as the day’s barometric reading. And in late June, the temperature
climbed high, so those secrets would hang
as heavy as a curtain. Her teeth clenched; she’d grown up in Parker and was
accustomed to the mind games the locals played. There’s no way she’d have ever
come back if she didn’t desperately need her family’s help. But if anyone could
tell her how to deal with the mess she’d left behind in New York, how to
navigate what she’d discovered, it was her brother, Theodore. She just hoped that
this surprise wouldn’t blow up in her face. She’d been barely sixteen when she
left for a full scholarship at New York University. Five years, after all, was
a long time between visits home.
She peeked inside the service door,
remembering that Theodore had a military mind and kept god-awful early morning hours. Before stepping through, she scanned
the dimly lit shop, but she didn’t see her brother. Instead, she spotted a man
with sapphire-tipped faux-hawk, standing on a small stepladder, bent over a
monster pickup truck. Mr. Faux-Hawk’s shirtless arms displayed a jaw-dropping,
hot-flash-inducing art canvas. Corded muscles flexed as he continued to tinker
with the engine.
When Regan stepped onto the
concrete floor of the garage, a chime rang. She observed a tattooed hand move, and with a click of a remote, the tunes lowered
to a background hum.
“Can I help you?” He lifted his
head from under the open hood and propped an elbow on the side of the
newly-painted, black and silver frame. Predatory deep blue and purplish eyes
bore into her, the long-feathered lashes, making them all the more menacing.
Her breath caught. There was something disturbingly familiar about him.
“Yeah—yes, I’m looking for Theodore.” Her voice echoed, too loud inside the
open garage. She hid her fidgeting fingers behind her and clasped the bronze
bracelet that did not quite cover the spidery scars littered from her elbow to
wrist.
“Who’s asking?” The rolling timbre
of rock-on-rock in his voice made her insides curl. He stepped down from the
engine.
Her lips lifted in a slow smile.
“Excuse me?” She was not the swooning type, even if he was dreamy. Okay,
smoldering. Thank God she wasn’t tongue-tied around guys anymore.
They began a staring contest. His skin glowed like smooth copper. All hard
angles and fierce planes, his face boasted a sharp blade of a nose and black-as-the-devil’s-heart eyebrows.
Regan gulped as she studied him.
Oh, crap. It was Hunter Grainger. Boy, had he changed. But unfortunately for
her, he’d only gotten hotter in the time since he’d broken her heart. Her pulse
raced. In his presence, her tongue became knotted.
“Damn, Regan, you grew into those
long legs.” His lips relaxed a bit, and they curved up in one corner. Then he
winked.
Her smile faded. Warmth flooded her
cheeks. From the smug look pasted on his
face, he knew she had recognized him. Blinking seemed to break the spell she was
under.
“Holy shit. Hunter Grainger?” She
took a deep, unsteady breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He had an
inappropriate asinine smile on his face and took a slight step back, pointing
toward the engine.
She blushed hotter if that was even possible.
“Yes—yes—I can see you’re working.
What I meant is...” She stretched her fingers
and began again. “What I meant to say is, what are you doing back in Texas?”
The smirk settled in deeper. “I
could ask you the same thing, but I don’t want to appear rude.”
“Rude?” her voice colored with
anger. “You don’t want to appear rude? What about the time—”
She was
not prepared for this. Not at all. She was a fool for not recognizing
him immediately. Every girl had been in love with the bad boy, including her.
All the things she’d sworn she’d
say if she ever ran into Hunter flew from her mind. Here he was, right in front
of her as she’d so often imagined, and again she was at his mercy. She’d have
kicked her own backside if she could.
He finally dropped his work tools
back into the toolbox with a deliberate clank, then snatched the rag sitting on
top.
“It’s complicated.”
She waited, but it was all the
explanation he intended to offer.
In high school, her responses were
one or two words. But now she was bolder with her speech and told others her
piece of mind. Her choice of clothing reflected her personality—brightly
colored shorts that molded to her body paired up with a snug top.
He stepped away from the side of
the monster truck and strode with confidence toward Regan, rubbed his rag
across his neck before he stopped in front of the monster truck. He leaned
casually against the front fender, crossed his ankles, and stared right at her,
daring her to say something.
She had a purpose in coming here
and again asked about her brother. “So, where’s Theodore?” Trying to avoid
Hunter’s eyes, her gaze went to the high-end Italian sports cars neatly lined
in the front to the left of the monster truck. Further back, she could see bays
with more cars.
Her head snapped back to that damn
rag, now clutched between his tattooed knuckles. It drew her gaze to his
sculpted chest and downward to his
chiseled abs. However, his abs did not hide the horrible scar across the length
of his ribs. She didn’t look away fast enough before he cocked his hips toward
her.
“So, I couldn’t help noticing you
were checking out the goods.” He said it with a lazy smile, winding the rag
between his knuckles.
“Which goods are you referring to?”
She slipped a glance at him, and he flexed his biceps. He had an array of
tattoos on his arms, and her gaze stopped at the large scorpion on his right
hand. The extended tail fished down, making the loop to the R on his ring
finger inked across his four knuckles that spelled out CROW. “Maybe it’s time for
you to get another tattoo.”
He did a half twist showing an
outline of wings beginning between his shoulder blades and finishing down the
back. “Already there. Try again.” He raised one eyebrow and slightly tucked in
his chin when her mouth made a small ‘O’ of surprise. He flashed her a smile.
She tried to recover by crossing
her arms and taking a step back, but she stumbled over a wrench. He grabbed her arm. Had he not, she would’ve
fallen. She shivered when he pulled her up close against him.
His eyebrows scrunched, and his
voice lowered. “Tell me why you came back.” He breathed his words against her
face.
Thoughts of her job as a clerk for
a law firm back in New York, of the treacherous secret she’d discovered there, flittered
across her mind. The phone calls, the threats. She shuddered and dismissed it.
There was no way she would utter that to anyone, least of all to Hunter
Grainger. Instead, she focused on the questions Hunter hadn’t answered about
her brother. “Family,” she said. “I returned because I’m big on family passion.
I mean affairs.”
Dammit. She should’ve worn thicker patting on the cut still healing. It had
begun forming a scab on her right side of her hip. She forced herself to keep smiling, to hide her embarrassment.
His gaze dipped down and ran back
up the length of her body. Her spine tingled, and it felt like it might burst
out of her skin.
“Passion, you say.”
Marija Salapanov Carpenter writing as MJ Markovski
was born in Detroit, Michigan to Macedonian immigrant parents, raised very
sheltered, and then moved to Arizona for college. Ended up staying in Tucson.
Two words to remember her by are
tenacious and
complicated.
The
journey to writing Whatever It Takes series came to her not only in a form of a
dream but also when her husband at the time left her and her children. They had
been together since she was eighteen.
But
her journey to writing seriously began 2009/2010 when she became disabled from
a major attack from multiple sclerosis. Doctors thought at that time she would
Die but here she is, and the worst of it was she is currently in an electric
wheelchair for mobility. For now. She views it as God’s way for her to have
more time in writing.
She
doesn’t allow her illness to define her.
MJ
loves stories that explore characters and origins. It thrills her to get inside
their minds and find out what makes them tick. That’s why she loves writing third
person limited because it’s intimate. What if on the surface a person comes up
to them you think one character views him as granite steel emotions but he
truly speaks in his mind is actually passionate and driven but you can’t see
that on the outside you’ll find it out till Chapter Five but his actions show
it? She loves the weave stories with their theme another fuel for her many
books to come forth. Angst, passion, romance, (she’s a romantic at heart but
don’t tell anyone that) and suspense/thriller.
MJ
graduated with her Masters from the University of Phoenix in Accounting. She’s
worked with government contractor as a Financial Accountant as well as an
advisor for taxes. She ran a small business of doing taxes for family and
friends for a while in the early 2000’s then stopped because of the MS
exasperation that landed her in the hospital. But when she retained her health,
she put that business aside and she began seriously writing. That self-run
business reignited her passion in her writing and to help others as well when
the opportunity comes to help other fellow writers.
MJ
enjoys spending time with her family and friends when she can, loves reading,
watching a movie once in a great while with her daughter, spending some time
outside (when it’s cool and not in the heat of Arizona) life is full of
complications but every morning getting up in writing with her vitamin
smoothies and coffee is a perfect start of the day. www.mjmarkovski.com
