Monday, September 19, 2016

Kimberley Nadine Knights ~ an interview and her novel ~ The Cilantro in Applie Pie

Kimberley Nadine Knights

Kimberley Nadine Knights knew when she kept willingly opting out of parties so she could stay home and write, that she was destined to be an author.  

Born and raised in the tropical twin islands of Trinidad & Tobago, when this Caribbean girl isn’t creating new plotlines for her ever growing lineup of fictional characters, she spends her time strumming her guitar to indie rock songs and snapping once in a lifetime photos halfway across the globe in countries such as Estonia, Finland, Sweden, Denmark and France.

She's an avid fan of The Walking Dead series and firmly believes that The Food Network should consider her being a judge on the next Chopped challenge.
The Cilantro in Apple Pie is her debut novel. 


Q: Are you a morning person, or a midnight candle burner?
A: Definitely a midnight candle burner. I always tell people I’d probably have fun being a night guard at a mall or something. All fun things happen in the p.m (literally & metaphorically) ;)

Q: Tell me something you would like your readers (fans) to know about you.
A: I’m sociable but I always breathe a sigh of relief when I finally get home. I guess that’ll make me an introvert? Lol I don’t know.

Q: Dress up or dress down?
A: Dress all the wayyyyy downnnnnnn. I’m a flip flop addict and I firmly believe that the Nike shorts & graphic tee combination is my uniform. Not even kidding. #probablyneverbeinvitedtotheoscars

Q: Dine in or dine out?
A: I love the feel of restaurants. I don’t know if it’s the mixture of air-conditioning, menus and overly decorated plates of food that gets me all fired up, but dining out is a high for me.

Q: How do you feel about exercise?
A: A cruel form of mind-wash used to fool people into thinking that it’s good for your health…


Q: When did you start writing and why?
A: I started writing when I was 10 because life was just so blah. When you write, you have the power to make a 16 foot purple dragon come to life with the use of words. Other than the obvious fact that dragons don’t exist, at 10 I didn’t think a purple dragon would be friends with me in the real world…he would just eat me and burp. So of course, I had to be a writer.

Q: What do you think is the hardest part of writing a book?
A: Constantly staying in the moment. At the beginning your idea is the best thing since sliced bread. You want to sing it from the rooftop, you dream about it, you can’t wait to write certain scenes. But then slowly the hype fades. For example, you’re usually beyond excited when you get a brand new car, but then a year later… it’s just a car.

Q: How do you handle a writer's block?
A: I jump to another idea and start writing that book. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Q: When crafting the story do you go from beginning to end, or do you jump around writing the scenes that are pushing themselves forward in your brain?
A: Beginning to end. This is probably the only structure I have. I have this whiteboard where I map out each chapter point by point. Of course things might change as I go along and ideas pop into my head – but I never write Chapter 18 first then write Chapter 1,2 & 3.


Q: What are you working on now? Would you like to share anything about it?
A: I’m working on the sequel to The Cilantro in Apple Pie (it’s a trilogy). All I can share is that it’s going to be 10 times more exciting than the 1st book.

Q: Do you have a new book coming out soon? Tell us about it.
A: The sequel should be ready by late 2017

Q: How can we find you? Do you have a web page, FaceBook page or any buy links?
A:  Yes, I do. Here are the links.   

BARNES & NOBLE:;jsessionid=3AE88D5AF941EC707DF6FE5AB19E2F2B.prodny_store01-atgap09?ean=2940152855371
Book Trailer :

TITLE: The Cilantro in Apple Pie
RELEASE DATE: May 5, 2016
AUTHOR: Kimberley Nadine Knights
ISBN: 978-0692657027
IMPRINT: Howling Wolf


KEYWORDS: coming of age, young adult, contemporary, romance, new adult, high school, suspense

CATEGORIES: Contemporary Young/New Adult

ONE LINER: “Sometimes the oddest of flavors create the sweetest of bonds.”

Fragnut. Confused? Well so is everyone else at Lumiere Hall Prep when sixteen-year-old Rubie Keane rolls in from Trinidad and Tobago talking her weird lingo. Not that she minds the culture confusion; she's determined to leave the past behind her and be overlooked—but a certain stoic blue blood is equally as determined to foil her plans.

Gil Stromeyer's offbeat personality initially makes Rubie second-guess his sanity, but she suspects his erratic outbursts of violence mask a deeper issue in his troubled, charmed life. Despite his disturbing behavior, a gradual bond forms between the two. However, on the night of the annual Stromeyer gala, events unfold that leave Rubie stripped of her dignity and kick Gil's already fragile world off its axis.

Both their well-kept secrets are uncovered, but Gil's revelation proves that sometimes the best remedy for a bad case of lost identity, is a dash of comradery from an ally packed with flavor.

“Aw man, that was sweet!” a voice boomed from the other side of the garden.

I looked up to see a group of junior coeds by a table talking and laughing loudly, but it was obvious that only one boy in particular—the one with the neatly cut wheat-blond hair—was the center of attention.

His blazer was flung on the grass, his shirttails hung out of his khaki pants, and his tie was sloppily draped around his neck. However, despite his ragamuffin attire, he still looked like the late Paul Walker’s younger protégé—circa the first Fast and Furious movie.

When he laughed, the rest of them followed suit.

When he started jumping around imitating an ape, his clones snickered hysterically and threw what seemed to be pieces of chocolate at him in praise.

“They make me sick.”

My head whipped around to see a boy well over six feet, with dark hair and intense eyes, step out from behind the tree with his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets.

I shielded my eyes from the sun and looked up at him from where I sat. “Excuse me?”

“Them—over there,” he half snarled, his voice cold and void of emotion. “They think they own the universe.”

I glanced over at the raucous group once again and frowned. “And…they are?”

“Reed Stromeyer and his mindless minions,” he replied grimly.

Oh yeah…that title fitted him perfectly.

Another loud squeal of delight reverberated off the acoustics of the quad’s stony frame.

“Is Reed the boy giving that girl a piggy-back ride?” I asked dryly, watching as he galloped with the capricious brunette who held on to his shoulders for dear life.

The boy next to me nodded. “Aren’t rich kids the worst?” He peered down at me, apparently waiting for an actual answer to his rhetorical question.

“Um, yeah…sure,” I said, trying to be agreeable so he would walk away.

He continued to glare at me as if what I’d said wasn’t quite enough for him. “All that money and not a dime’s worth of brain. You’re Rubie Keane, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and you’re…”

“Gil,” he said curtly, cutting off the possibility of further probing on my behalf. “So you agree, then?”

“A-agree with what?”

“That the rich suck.”

“Oh.” Did I miss him asking me if rich people sucked? “Well…I guess so. They get everything they want so easily.” The sentence hung in the air like a question. “They don’t really have to work for anything.”

  I found it unnerving when he kept staring at me a good while after I’d responded—a glare that made me feel like he was trying to laser burn an inscription into my skull.

“No, they don’t,” he mumbled, sounding a bit disillusioned.

I frowned again then tried to smile through my confusion. “But this school’s full of ‘em, right? So I guess you’re used to it.”

He glanced at his wristwatch, simultaneously distracted and irritated. “I’m definitely used to it,” he said darkly. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” I said, puzzled as I watched him walk away the same way he’d appeared.

With his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

I shrugged and faced forward again, only to see the same group of junior girls staring at me and whispering to each other behind cupped hands.

My strange encounter with the freakishly tall boy was still on my mind when the last bell of the day rang that afternoon, but overall it was a good day, free from any more conversations instigated by students. Plus Dennis was picking me up after school, so that made the day even better.

As much as I was okay with taking the bus, I eagerly welcomed the change in transportation since sometimes that vehicle only succeeded in returning me home with a full-blown migraine. 

It smelled like gasoline, inside and out, and on most days passengers bounced up and down on the ripped ochre-colored upholstery like unwilling pieces of a tossed salad. Shocks were definitely an afterthought for that yellow death trap on wheels, and I wondered how a supposed Ivy League prep school could’ve put such a guaranteed future lawsuit on their payroll.

At three I made my way to the drop-off, parked myself on one of the concrete benches, and pulled out A Brighter Sun again.

The book was really picking up, and that was probably why I hadn’t noticed the minutes fly by. The next time I glanced down at my watch, it was three forty-five.

Where was Dennis? He wasn’t the type to be late. 

Punctuality, believe it or not, was one of the many reasons he’d fallen head over heels for my sister, who coincidentally had an equally anal obsession with time management.

Since we’d been busy unpacking boxes earlier in the week, they hadn’t had a chance to organize a cell phone for me, so my only option was to head back to the office and ask to use their phone.

Ten. I’d give him ten more minutes, I reasoned.

I actually ended up giving him twenty-five more minutes, and that was when the slight panic started to set in.

What if something had happened and they couldn’t get a hold of me?

What if something had happened to my parents?

On that last thought, I jumped up from the bench and started running toward the school.


The voice had me skidding to a stop, the heel of my shoe making a deep indent in the semi-damp lawn as I halted off balance. Spinning around, I saw a well-built man briskly jogging toward me. His eyes were hidden by a navy-blue baseball cap and there was enough stubble on his face for it to be defined as a beard.

My female instincts immediately kicked into overdrive, and I quickly fished out the ballpoint pen that was in my sweater pocket. I didn’t know many people in Mellowbrook, let alone the neighboring town of Salmery, so I had no idea who’d be yelling out my name besides family.

“Are you Rubie Keane?” he asked as he got closer to me.

I stepped back and raised the pen over my head to show him that I meant business.

This time he screeched to a stop, holding up both his hands, palms facing out. “Whoa. Okay, wait…I’m not going to hur—”

“Who are you?” I demanded, steadying my hand in case I needed to drive my makeshift weapon through his eye. “How do you know my name?”

He took a deep breath and flashed me the kindest smile that could’ve ever come from a man with such a forebodingly rugged appearance. “Let’s start over, shall we?” he drawled cautiously. “My name’s Ben Catelloni. I know Dennis.”

My forehead creased tentatively as I took another jerky step back. “That doesn’t prove anything.” A lot of people knew Dennis—he was a real estate agent, and he gave out calling cards all the time. Anyone could’ve just thrown his name out there.

The man’s smile widened, a low, raspy chuckle escaping his lips as he shook his head. “I didn’t believe him when he said I’d have to do the three steps of trust.”

I relaxed a fraction when I heard the scruffy stranger say those familiar words, but I kept my pen hand raised. “Well…”

“Can I get the IDs from my pocket?” he asked with care. “Or are you going to assault me with that…Bic.”

After giving him the once-over one last time, I nodded for him to proceed.

“Dennis’s driver’s license and his work identity badge,” he said, pulling them out one by one from his jeans pocket.

I leaned in closer, ever so often eyeing him to make sure he wasn’t about to jump me, and checked the identification for myself.

Name: Dennis Zachary Peterson
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 195 lbs
DOB: 02-01-1978

Okay, the IDs were good, but there was one last thing…

“The password is…I’m not sure if I’m saying this right, but…” He paused then spoke slowly, “Crapaud smoke your pipe?”

Alright. He was legit.

I’m happy you could join me on Books and Banter.  I hope you had fun.

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