HEROES

Welcome to the HEROES blog hop. For this hop I’m giving three $5 Starbucks cards. You must leave me a comment, with your email address, to be entered into the drawing. Also, by entering my drawing you are automatically entered in the drawing for the large swag pack (picture below) and for the Kindle Fire. Enjoy the hop. For every blog that you leave a comment you get one entry for the grand prizes. So vist everyone and get more than one hundred entries.

What is a hero? Or more specifically what is a romance hero?

A romance hero is the embodiment of every fantasy we have as girls and women. He’s strong, good looking, gentle, good with children, loves us beyond reason, is a protector, takes what he wants but only if we’re willing, is stern when he needs to be, doesn’t get taken advantage of, but if it happens seeks and gets revenge. He’s our father, brother, matinee idol, soldier all rolled into one sleek package.

Why do we need heroes?

Romances would not exist if not for the hero. Our heroine has to have someone who wants her and ends up loving her, usually in spite of herself, in order for it to be a true romance. The hero must take a journey. Usually it’s learning that he loves the heroine, that it’s okay to be vulnerable, okay to be gentle, okay to be the man she needs.

What’s your favorite characteristic of a hero?

My favorite characteristic is gentleness melded with strength. I want my hero’s to love me unconditionally. He’s gentle with me all the while being the strong man he needs to be as well. He knows that he doesn’t have to be hard to be a man. He’s secure in his manhood.

Who is my favorite romance hero?

One of my favorite romance heroes is Challen Ly-San-Ter from Johanna Lindsey’s Warrior’s Woman. He is the epitome of raw strength and gentleness. As is Duncan from Julie Garwood’s Honor’s Splendor. Both of these books are on my keeper shelf and I read them again and again. At least once per year. And, of course, the heroes in each of my books are my very favorites

Now you tell me. Who is your favorite romance hero and why? I’d love it if you tell me, in your comments, who your favorite romance hero is and what book they are from. I’m always looking for new books to read. You don’t have to of course, just leave any comment to be entered into the drawings for the grand prizes or for my books.

Again, leave me a comment and be entered to win a Kindle Fire or an Amazon/Barnes & Noble gift card. Remember, three lucky commenters will win copies of my books from the Tame Series. Either TAME A WILD HEART, TAME A WILD WIND or TAME A WILD BRIDE.

BIO
Cynthia Woolf was born in Denver, Colorado and raised in the mountains west of Golden. She spent her early years running wild around the mountain side with her friends.

Their closest neighbor was one quarter of a mile away, so her little brother was her playmate and her best friend. That fierce friendship lasted until his death in 2006.

Cynthia was and is an avid reader. Her mother was a librarian and brought new books home each week. This is where young Cynthia first got the storytelling bug. She wrote her first story at the age of ten. A romance about a little boy she liked at the time.

She worked her way through college and went to work full time straight after graduation and there was little time to write. Then in 1990 she and two friends started a round robin writing a story about pirates. She found that she missed the writing and kept on with other stories. In 1992 she joined Colorado Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America. Unfortunately, the loss of her job demanded the she not renew her memberships and her writing stagnated for many years.

In 2001, she saw an ad in the paper for a writers conference being put on by CRW and decided she’d attend. One of her favorite authors, Catherine Coulter, was the keynote speaker. Cynthia was lucky enough to have a seat at Ms. Coulter’s table at the luncheon and after talking with her, decided she needed to get back to her writing. She rejoined both CRW and RWA that day and hasn’t looked back.

Cynthia credits her wonderfully supportive husband Jim and the great friends she’s made at CRW for saving her sanity and allowing her to explore her creativity.

Here are the links to all my books, western and scifi. I hope you’ll check them out.
All are on Amazon.
TAME A WILD HEART
TAME A WILD WIND
CENTAURI DAWN – This book was a finalist in the Romcon Readers Crown Contest
CENTAURI TWILIGHT – This book was a finalist in the Romcon Readers Crown Contest
CENTAURI MIDNIGHT
THE SWORDS OF GREGARA-JENALA
THE SWORDS OF GREGARA-RIZA

World building by Cynthia Woolf

First I want to thank me for having me on my blog today. LOL Seriously, I like to reward my readers, so I will be giving away one copy of my CENTAURI SERIES: THE COMPLETE COLLECTION to one lucky commenter. Be sure to comment in order to get the entry.

One of my critique partners asked me about world building. How do I do it? I answered her that I didn’t know. I just built it and they came.

Seriously, I never thought of it as world building. That has such a forbidding connotation to it. All I did was decide that I wanted this planet to use higher technology than we do. Especially since in my world they’ve been able to build spaceships that go faster than the speed of light. That has become a given in science fiction, thanks to Gene Roddenberry and Star Trek with the warp drive.

I also decided that this world would have a monarchy, that is always passed through the Queen not the King. But it would also be a British style monarchy with a senate. However, any change must be ratified by the Queen and she can make anything she wants into law without the Senate’s approval. She can request their input but doesn’t have to pay any attention to it if she doesn’t want to.

In my world, there are air cars which work like silent helicopters without the blades. Why? Because I can. It’s my world.

I discovered that I was creating lots of words for things and would get several pages in and say to myself, “What did I call rabbits in this world?” and have to go back and try to find the passage where I referred to the rabbit type animal. They are wheebee’s by the way. So I made a bible. I use this to keep track of every word I create and what it means in English. For instance, Hell is Ashara. God is Krios. These are things I need to remember especially if my character is going to swear…which they do periodically.

I discovered that I don’t need to change the name of too many things or I lose the reader. They are trying to understand what I’m calling what. I change just a few, just enough to give the flavor and not too many so as to lose the reader. I don’t want to pull them out of the story, trying to figure out what the thing is that I’ve named something. It should be seamless. It should be obvious from the sentence what the English word would be. If it’s not then I didn’t do my job.

I’ve discovered that I don’t have to change everything for the flavor of the change to be there. I want to give my readers just enough to give them the flavor of my world. I don’t write hard science fiction. I don’t concentrate on the workings of the warp drive. Other authors have already paved the way for me in that arena.

No matter what I decide my world is going to have, going to be like, I have to remain faithful to that decision. I have to be consistent, or I’m going to lose my readers and that’s the last thing I want to do.

Book Blurb from Centauri Dawn

Audra is a normal grad student in law school in Boulder, Colorado. Until the day she finds out she isn’t. She’s a princess from the planet Centauri. Her mission, whether or not she chooses to accept it, is to marry an alien and save the world, in order to save her family.

Darius is charged with delivering his brother’s bride home to Centauri, ready to be queen. Falling in love isn’t just forbidden, it’s a death sentence for him and for his world.

Book Blurb from Centauri Twilight

Lara Danexx suffered years of torment at the hands of the evil and twisted Ranzon Slavarien. But she escaped and raised an army of rebels to destroy him. Victory is within her grasp when an unwelcome intruder hunts her down and spins wild tales of her lost family and royal blood. This arrogant invader stirs her long dead emotions and threatens to ruin all of her plans. She can’t allow herself to desire his touch, or believe his lies…too much is at stake.
General Anton Coridian gave his word that he would find his beloved queen’s long lost sister, Princess Jondalara. He expects a pampered princess. Instead he finds a guerilla leader with an army of loyal cut-throats and rogues at her back. Every instinct he has demands that she is his lifemate and he must steal her away to safety. But the dark determination and pain in her eyes reminds him of his own tortured past. She offers him redemption and the chance to right an unspeakable wrong. Destiny must be laughing, because now he’s fallen in love with a woman who will stop at nothing to free her people…even if it means sacrificing herself. Anton is determined to join her, both in bed and in battle. Now he must convince Lara that his love can save not just her battered heart but her life.

Book Blurb from CENTAURI MIDNIGHT

Kitari ‘Kiti’ Dolana wants justice for her murdered brother. She’s trailed the man responsible to a distant planet where swords outmaneuver blasters.

Garrick Marcus, Spaceship Captain, is on a mission to hunt down a ruthless killer. The same man Kiti is after.

But Kiti and Garrick discover an explosive attraction that makes it hard to keep their minds on their goals. As they try to bring down the killer, they find that love and vengeance are a volatile mix.

Author Bio

Cynthia Woolf was born in Denver, Colorado and raised in the mountains west of Golden. She spent her early years running wild around the mountain side with her friends.

Their closest neighbor was one quarter of a mile away, so her little brother was her playmate and her best friend. That fierce friendship lasted until his death in 2006.

Cynthia was and is an avid reader. Her mother was a librarian and brought new books home each week. This is where young Cynthia first got the storytelling bug. She wrote her first story at the age of ten. A romance about a little boy she liked at the time.

She worked her way through college and went to work full time straight after graduation and there was little time to write. Then in 1990 she and two friends started a round robin writing a story about pirates. She found that she missed the writing and kept on with other stories. In 1992 she joined Colorado Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America. Unfortunately, the loss of her job demanded the she not renew her memberships and her writing stagnated for many years.

In 2001, she saw an ad in the paper for a writers conference being put on by CRW and decided she’d attend. One of her favorite authors, Catherine Coulter, was the keynote speaker. Cynthia was lucky enough to have a seat at Ms. Coulter’s table at the luncheon and after talking with her, decided she needed to get back to her writing. She rejoined both CRW and RWA that day and hasn’t looked back.

Cynthia credits her wonderfully supportive husband Jim and the great friends she’s made at CRW for saving her sanity and allowing her to explore her creativity.
Find her books on Amazon
TAME A WILD HEART
TAME A WILD WIND
CENTAURI DAWN
CENTAURI TWILIGHT
CENTAURI MIDNIGHT

The Many Levels of Intimacy by Lynn Crain


Over the years, I have written to various levels of sensuality. Each story requires something different but in general, the levels of intimacy remain the same. You will find many articles written on this subject with good reason. For us, the romance writer be it erotic or sweet or sensual, the stages are all the same.

Everyone is in agreement that these steps need no verbal queue but all lead from the first advance to intimate contact. It’s all in the body language, folks and body language doesn’t lie. If you need some lessons in body language, watch the Fox show, Lie To Me and you’ll learn everything you ever wanted about body language. They do it right.

But getting back to us writing love scenes, it is imperative that you have these steps. Sometimes, you can skip a step if the story calls for it BUT for the most part, these steps need to happen for your reader really to get into your story. And the love scenes can make or break a novel.

Eye to body – This is commonly known as the once over. In addition, it is usually very subtle. The gaze will drop from the upper face, meaning the eye and nose area, to the lower face then on down to the upper parts of the body. Sometimes, the person will step back to get a better, fuller look at you. If that happens their whole, posture will change as they glance at you up and down to see how your face matches your body.

Eye to eye – Intimacy increases the moment two people have eye contact. The more eye contact, the more soulful the looks. The looks will become more and more meaningful as more are exchanged. If a person refuses to gain contact in this sensual charged moment will send a message one is not interested.

Hand to hand – Contact is usually lingering but light. It can be disguised as being accidental or occurring in a social setting, which is considered acceptable. This would be like one putting a hand under and elbow to guide someone, two people reaching for the door handle at the same time or a handshake that slowly ends. Look at the way the Victorians or those of the Regency period acted toward each other and you will see this step everywhere.

Hand to shoulder – This behavior can again be hidden within what is considered socially acceptable behavior. Until this point, either person can withdrawal gratuitously without any real hurtful feelings. But once this boundary has been crossed, there is no going back without one’s pride being severely injured. This is just a touch to the shoulder for a variety of reasons, like getting ones attention. This is also a form of claiming ones territory and can be used to ward others off.

Arm around waist – This is the signal that one wants greater intimacy. This is the time to get out if one does not desire this relationship. Feelings will be hurt if one doesn’t respond positively to this gesture.

Mouth to mouth – No, we don’t mean the rescuitation kind. LOL! This is the actual act of kissing where chemical information is passed from one person to another. The kiss adds another sense to intimate contact and that is taste. The first sense, encountered way back in step one, is smell and pheromones are a very powerful odor. Taste can tell one all sorts of information about people like body temperature, hygiene level and a variety of other things. If the people are really involved in the kiss, their temperature will go up since the stimulation will cause sexual excitement. When people are emotional cold, they are usually physically cold as well which means they are not that interested in continuing the encounter. The more passionate a person gets, the more their temperature increases.

Hand to head – This is a trust issue. The more one person trusts another, the more likely they will allow their head being touched. Women tend to do this way before men. Caressing ones head indicates an increasing trust between the two people involved. Our heads are extremely vulnerable and only someone we trust are ever allowed to touch us there with a negative reaction.

Hand to body – This fondling can happen through clothes or under them. Some people will close their eyes as they are unconsciously gathering more information about the person they are with. However, keeping ones eyes open while maintaining total eye contact is a more powerful gesture. There one uses even more senses, touch, sound, taste and sight as well as smell. During the physical portion of our encounter, our sense of smell is very powerful, as it will help us to become more in tune with our sexual partner, making us more sensitive to their unique smell. Odors are a powerful aphrodisiac, which helps to prepare us for a pleasurable experience and to etch our partner in our memory. The best source are natural smells, so keep the perfumes to a minimum.

Mouth to body – This can be very stimulating and a real turn on for both parties. Breasts and necks are very sensitive for both sexes as are the lower abdominal region. Fellatio and cunnlingus can be very rewarding as long as both partners are into oral sex.

Hand to genitals – Gentle caresses are always best in this stage. If you have gotten this far, intercourse is usually imminent. One can heighten the sexual tension in the story by making the characters get this far without fulfillment. Once one gets to this step, each partner trusts each other explicitly in a normal relationship. There are some other types of relationships where trust is never achieved.

Genital to genital – This is the final act in lovemaking. Everyone is different and the emotions as well as all the senses need to be utilized when writing a great love scene. Vaginas and penises are utterly boring when none of the stimulus is present.

Now, not all of these steps need to be present in your novel. Just remember, each step is a sensual journey. Recently, I had been in the blah stage of writing a love scene. Then I saw last week’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy and they reminded me of just how sensual stolen looks and accidental caresses could be. Suddenly, I was all hot and bothered again to get back to my characters.

Hope that this little journey can help you all create great love scenes. I know that I read them again and again when I get stuck.

I want to thank Cynthia for allowing me to come to her place. It’s a wonderful place to gather. One commenter will get a copy of my newest book, The Harvester, sometime next week. You’ll be chosen by random drawing and I can’t wait to meet you.

Have a great week!

Lynn

Lynn Crain has penned over 25 novels in romance in the genres of science fiction, fantasy and contemporary romance, erotic to tame in nature. She always knew that writing was her calling even if it took years at other professions to prove it. She has belonged to EPIC and RWA for more years that she cares to think about. Currently, she lives in Europe while her husband of nearly 30 years pursues his dream of working internationally. Her state-side home is in Nevada where family and friends wait patiently for their return. You can find her hanging out at A Writer In Vienna Blog (www.awriterinvienna.blogspot.com) and various other places on the net (www.theloglineblog.blogspot.com; www.twitter.com/oddlynn3; www.lynncrain.blogspot.com ). Still, the thing she loves most of all is hearing from her readers at lynncrain@cox.net.

Logline: Sky Nerezsh, a Harvester of men, leaves home avoiding a tragic path when a rival comes to claim Earth and the two Scottish lifemates she’s just discovered.

Blurb: Princess Sky Xera Nerezsh came to earth to avoid the normal succession path to the throne. Being the oldest daughter, she will be required to murder her mother in order to secure her path to power. Sky loves her mother and refuses this path, choosing instead to disappear in the vast reaches of space. When her past collides with her present, she has to think quick on her feet, claim two men and a whole planet just to avoid the inevitable: a meeting with her mother. Along the way, she discovers true love and a burning need to be there for them always. Now if the other Harvesters can just keep to themselves, they’ll have no problems. But who said true love was ever easy.

Excerpt: Suddenly one dark haired man was on the table in front of her, gyrating his sexy hips in her face, his package mere inches from her mouth. In another life, she would have leaned forward and planted her lips on his crotch, willing his body to perform. She really should have been paying more attention to the situation around her instead of wondering about where Angela had gotten herself.
Leaning down, his breath reminded her of the sweetgrass that grew on her home planet of Tyrsati, heightening her senses even more. “Sweetheart, I see how you want me…it’s written all over your face.” His voice purred in her ear.
Sky gasped and pulled back to get a better look at the man in front of her. He reminded her of the gods of Vada. He was tall, well-muscled, dark hair brushing the top of his shoulders and had the most incredible violet eyes she had ever seen. Guess the optics weren’t wrong. He would fetch an exquisite price on Texra and her mother would be extremely proud for her acquisition. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs.
“Nice eyes, sweetie – hang around after the show – I’ll make it worth your while.” His voice hit a resonance with her and her whole body flushed. It had been years since she had reacted to any man. Now her emotions and body betrayed her for an insignificant being on an outer planet. She shook her head. This planet was no more insignificant than any other, including her own but she knew if she didn’t get herself under control, the Harvester in her would take over. Old habits die hard.
“Don’t let his demeanor fool you, luvey. He just wants to get into your pants.” Another deep voice reverberated close to her ear.
She glanced over her shoulder and again her breath was nearly taken away as she looked into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen in the galaxy bar none. The sky of Octa couldn’t hold a candle to the color that swirled in their depths.
“Ooo, Jaxon is right about the eyes. Very cool green.”
“Contacts,” Sky managed to get out for the second time this evening, her voice low.
“And a sexy voice to boot. Very nice.” He twirled away to join his companion on stage. He was just as nice looking as the first guy but just a little shorter. His shiny hair swung around his jaw line as he moved and her hands ached to run her fingers through it and over his body.
She sat there stunned as the people at her table laughed and clapped her on the back as if she’d done some sort of fantastic feat. While her time on this planet had been very thrilling, in her old life working for her mother, their performances had to be impeccable or their fate might be worse than death. She vaguely wondered just how she’d rate them.
Sky did her best to smile and act as if what happened was one of the most exciting things in her life when in reality it brought back some memories she’d rather forget. Folding her hands in front of her, she closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. She opened her eyes slow and caught a glimpse of a targeting laser. The light was in a part of the spectrum that no one of this planet could even see but her optics caught it.
Scanning the crowd, she allowed her eyes to whirl, not caring who saw. There were not supposed to be any Harvesters on this world as it had been declared too primitive to even be included in the Alliance of Planets. She came here because she knew this was the one place her mother wouldn’t think to look. Now, she knew another Tyrsatian walked the same world as she did, occupying the very same room.
Maybe it was time to see just what type of trouble Angela got herself into. Leaning across the table, she quickly gave Jayne her phone number and said her goodbyes to all the others present. Rising slowly, she didn’t want to alert the other Harvester but she was just far enough away and at a weird angle to not see who it might be. Moving quickly to the back wall, she moved to where she stood way behind the woman but close enough to see who it was.
Jesata Ardik. Of all the Harvesters to show up on her new home planet, one of the most relentless in the business had to land on her new home. This wasn’t going to be easy. She had to delay her from marking them because once they were marked, it didn’t matter wherever in the universe they were, they would be considered fugitives until captured and sold to the highest bidder. Meaning, she wouldn’t be able to get them off world without the help of her mother.

Buy Links:
Smashwords ~ https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/171101
Amazon ~ http://www.amazon.com/Harvester-Girls-Night-Out-ebook/dp/B008AP7ESI/ref=sr_1_15?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1339491578&sr=1-15&keywords=Lynn+Crain
ARe ~ https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-theharvester-825386-340.html
Barnes & Noble ~ http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-harvester-lynn-crain/1111514688?ean=2940014795517

Excerpt from Tame A Wild Heart

I’m about 2 weeks away from publishing TAME A WILD BRIDE. So While we wait I thought I give you a bit of the book that started it all, TAME A WILD HEART. Two lucky commenters will receive copies of the paperback as prizes.

EXCERPT

As they pulled into the ranch yard several hours later, Catherine’s father, James, slammed out of the house followed by a very pregnant, young blond woman and a little boy.

“Did you find him?” James called as the buckboard pulled to a halt. “Did you find Zeke?”

“We found him. He’s got a broken leg but he’ll be good as new in a few weeks,” Catherine said as she jumped to the ground. “He’s going to need some tender lovin’ care, Sarah.”

Sarah ran to the end of the wagon and clamored up despite her bulk. “Zeke, honey, are you okay?” She knelt beside him, grazed his cheek with her knuckle, while tears rolled in streams down her cheeks.

Tenderly, Zeke wiped the tears from her face. “Here now, we’ll have none of that. I’m going to be fine.”

“Papa! Up!” demanded Jacob.

Duncan set the brake and went around to the back to help lift Zeke from the wagon bed. Instead a curly haired blond boy confronted him, pulling on his pant leg.

“Up Mister. Pease.” Jacob held his arms up for Duncan to lift him.

Duncan didn’t want to lift the sweet child. He didn’t want to hold this tiny body in his arms for even a moment, but it looked like he had no choice. Catherine, the only one near enough to do it, just stood there with her hands on her hips, and a grin on her face, waiting.

This small child was not going to defeat him. He’d faced desperate men, men willing to kill to save themselves from Duncan McKenzie, bounty hunter. None of them frightened him as much as this one little boy, who couldn’t be more than two or three. All Duncan had to do was bend down and lift the child, but his knees shook and he could feel himself quiver inside.

“Oh for goodness sake, Duncan, just lift him up so he can see his Papa is all right.” Catherine knew. He didn’t know how she knew, but she did. His only real weakness…children.

Getting a grip on himself, he bent and hoisted the anxious little boy up and over the wagon’s gate. He was light as a feather, so tiny…so innocent.

Catherine was beside him. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He didn’t miss the laughter in her sparkling silver gaze or the smile formed by her perfect rosebud lips. Without answering he stalked toward the house and the front door.

Duncan closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. He could still smell the fresh bread that Alice baked that morning. He glanced around the foyer, glad to see it hadn’t changed. Directly in front of him stairs led to the second floor and the bedrooms. Down the hall to the right of the stairway were James’ study and a storeroom. The formal parlor, which still looked like it hadn’t been used, was to his left. The Queen Anne chairs and overstuffed divan looked as new as when he’d helped James haul them in.

Beyond the parlor was the formal dining room. A massive oak table and chairs dominated it, in stark contrast to the lace curtains covering the windows. They hadn’t used when he’d lived there, preferring instead the comfort of the kitchen.

Duncan shook the memories from his head, turned and started for the storeroom where he heard James muttering expletives.

“Dagnabit,” James said, “I’ve got a canvas stretcher here I got for just such an emergency, if I could just get it out from behind these steamer trunks.”

“Here, let me help.” Duncan quickly moved the trunks and freed the stretcher.

“Good to see you, Son. You’ve come at the perfect time.”

“To help with this maybe,” he said, lifting the stretcher and following James out. “But not soon enough to keep this incident from happening or keep your daughter from jumping down my back for being late.”

“Things happen for a reason, Son. You’ve got to find the reason.”

“From what Zeke said, the reason is named Roy Walker.”

“He’s only part of it.” James walked out the front doors and over to the wagon. “Sarah, let’s get you down so we can get your husband out of there.” James lifted the pregnant woman easily. He looked good to Duncan. He was still as tall as Duncan’s own six feet four inches and had remained fit and strong despite his advancing age and the graying of his brown hair and mustache.

“Catherine, you and Sarah take Jacob here and make sure the way into the house is clear.”

James ruffled the lad’s hair then lifted him from the wagon. “You go help your Ma and make sure to pick up all your toys, okay?”

“Yup, Big Jim. I pick up toys.” The youngster ran off as fast as his chubby legs would carry him toward the small house across the yard. Catherine followed with Sarah, who still weeped and moved much slower now she knew her husband was all right.

He watched Catherine settled her arm around Sarah’s shoulders and calm her. “Come on now. If you don’t settle down, Doc’s going to have to deliver that baby instead of check on Zeke’s leg.”

Sarah laughed and wiped her tears away. “You’re right and Doc would not be a happy man. I’m not due for another couple of weeks.”

When they lifted Zeke onto the stretcher and off the wagon, he let out a groan. Duncan knew he tried to keep it in, but a broken leg is a painful thing. “Catherine, do you have any laudanum? Zeke could use some until the doc gets here.”

“Sure thing. Be right back.”

Before they entered Zeke’s house, James said to him, “Don’t worry about a thing. We take care of our own here on the JC. You and Sarah have a home here as long as you want it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Evans. I really appreciate knowing that. I didn’t know how I’d provide for them while I’m laid up.” Zeke raised his head from the stretcher. “I’m really sorry about this, Mr. Evans.”

“Pshaw. Think nothing of it. None of this was your fault. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt worse.”
Zeke nodded and laid his head back down. They got him settled him on the bed and walked out of the house, leaving him to Sarah’s tender ministrations.

At the front door James turned to Duncan. “I’ve sent for the doctor and after you get cleaned up I’d like for you to come to my study. We’ve got some talking to do.”

That sounded ominous to Duncan, but he nodded. “Where do I clean up?”

“In your room. I’ve had it cleaned for you.”

“I can stay in the bunkhouse with the rest of the men?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re family. You’ll have your old room.” James stopped, his hand hovered above the doorknob. “This is your home, Duncan. Always has been and always will be.”

Something in the dark recesses of Duncan’s heart was moved by James’ declaration. Home. How long since he’d been any place he could call home? Ten years. There had never been anywhere else for him but here. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Duncan drove the wagon the short distance to the barn where he unhitched Jake and untied Wildfire, fed and watered them. He flung his saddlebags over his shoulder and headed to the house. When he finally opened the door to his room, he stared in wonder. Nothing had changed. Everything was exactly as he had left it ten years ago.

The massive bed that James had ordered special so he could stretch out his six foot four inch frame without hanging off the ends still had the same quilt on it. James’ wife Elizabeth had made that quilt for Duncan when he’d first come to live with them twenty years ago. He’d been thirteen, orphaned and big for his age. None of that mattered to Elizabeth who saw only a boy who had saved her husband’s life and now needed a home and family. He ran his hand over the quilt enjoying its comforting softness.

The bedside night table and washstand were both made of dark walnut that matched the bed, as did the wardrobe and chest of drawers. They had marble tops, a luxury Elizabeth had insisted on saying they would last forever. It appeared she was right. On the washstand were a porcelain pitcher and basin, his favorite sandalwood soap, two washcloths and a hand towel. The nightstand held a small pitcher of water, a glass, a kerosene lamp and an ashtray for his cheroots. At this point Duncan wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to find the wardrobe full of his clothes. He was almost afraid to look, but it turned out to be empty. Empty and stale, just like his life had been for the last ten years.

Putting aside his nostalgia, he quickly emptied his saddlebags, washed his hands and face, and donned a clean shirt before walking downstairs to see James.

Catherine met him in the hall. “Dad always said you’d be back. He made sure your room was ready for you.”

“And you? Did you know I’d be back?” he asked softly.

“No. I didn’t care one way or the other.” She turned on her heel and opened the door to her room. “But I hoped,” he heard her say under her breath as the door shut.

Duncan smiled.

Tame A Wild Heart on Amazon http://amzn.to/vu62X7

Tame A Wild Heart on Barnes & Noble http://bit.ly/tiwlR1

An Interview with J. Paulette Forshey

1.How much time do you spend promoting your books?

A. I’m all ways on the lookout for places to promote my books on the internet. My schedule and a few other things like a tight budget make it impossible for me to travel very far so blogging, and internet interviews are my best options for promotion. I do send to conferences book marks of my titles and excerpt booklets, both have done well for publicity.

2.Where do you get the ideas for your stories?

A. Oh, wow, that’s like asking how do you breathe. The ideas usually pop into my head when someone says something that catches my attention. For example years ago a friend laughingly commented I must be from another planet. I replied no just a different dimension of this one, which then lend to my first book “Cat and the Wizard”.

3.Do you have critique partners?

A. Lucky for me yes! Several people in my local chapter are all ways up for a quick read and feedback. They make life so much easier.

4. Give us an elevator pitch for your book.

A. At a ghostly southern estate Cuilean Kelley is about to have his reality and dreams collide.

5. Do you have a view in your writing space?

A. Yes, I can see what my four year old grandson and his two year old sister are up to while sitting at the kitchen table working on my lap top. I have a regular desk but then I couldn’t see what the ‘grands’ are plotting next.

6. What genres are you drawn to as a reader?

A. Paranormal, I love Elaine Bergstrom’s Austra Vampires, Lynsay Sands vampires, Katie MacAlister’s vamps, and of course Charlaine Harris Sookie Stackhouse series. My other guilty pleasure is any book with the word ‘sheikh’ in the title.

7. Has your muse always known what genre you would write and be published in?

A. My muse is an adventurous one! She prefers romance and paranormal (vampires) romance at that, but she has talked me into doing a book with an angel, a ghostly thriller, a contemporary, erotica, and a multicultural ménage a trios.

Release date July 13, 2012

The Estate

author J. Paulette Forshey

Night after night Cuilean Kelley’s dreams are haunted by an exotic woman. His days are preoccupied searching for a set of rare books. Clues to the mythical tomes lead him to a tiny parish outside of Savanna. He unearths not only the volumes, but discovers the woman of his dreams is real, and being held in a spectral prison guarded by an ancient lost civilization. Her freedom depends on Cuilean and the books connection to a ghostly southern estate.

Excerpt: The Estate

“Oh, my, isn’t he a little biscuit?”

Cuilean bit the inside of his mouth, on the comment of his person, to keep from laughing.

One of the well coiffed white-hairs snickered. “My dear, I bet there’s nothing “little” about him.”

What was that old saying he mused, something about snow on the mountain top but fire underneath. He glanced over and back quickly to make sure, yep, they were seventy-something and not seventeen.

“Yes, he’s certainly a tall one must be six foot two or three.”

“Honey, I wasn’t referring to his height and he’s at least six four if not taller.”

It took the southern belle a minute to comprehend. “What? Oh! Mildred get you mind out of the gutter.”

“She’d have to step up to have her mind in the gutter,” another scoffed.

Snickering giggles smothered behind fine linen handkerchiefs reached his ears.

“That olive skin and that thatch of black hair, hmmmmm.”

“The boy needs a haircut and a bath,” snapped one.

“I wouldn’t mind giving him both. I’d just love to scrub his back…and his front.”

“Did you see those green eyes? Like fresh spring grass they are. I’d kill for those thick black lashes he has, well if I had those I’d never have to buy mascara again.”

“I read in a book once about Celtic heritage, they called men with his coloring Black Celt’s. Doesn’t that sound so romantic?”

“Bessie May what kind of book was that?”

Cuilean noted from the minute long hesitation Bessie May wasn’t in any hurry to answer. That and the way she crossed her arms over her more than ample bosom and pursed her lips tight. His grandmother, red-haired and pale-skinned, had called him a Black Celt when he was young. She told him he was a throwback to the marauders who pillaged, and plundered the land before finally claiming it as theirs. And after the women of the tribes they ravaged, tamed those same raiders.

“Bessie May, we’re waiting.”

Hand clutching her handkerchief to the base of her throat, Bessie May stood for a moment more before blurting. “It was one of those romance books. So there.”

Her friends closed their eyes and shook their heads for a moment as though in prayer. “You really need to get out more,” suggested one lady.

“I wonder why he’s here.”

“Doesn’t look like he could afford to buy even the smallest, most worthless, item on the auction block.”

Cuilean bit back another grin staring straight ahead. No, he supposed he didn’t, wearing a much worn jean-jacket, a faded blue work shirt, tattered jeans, and thin-soled tennis shoes. Right now he probably looked like something the proverbial cat drug in, especially after traveling in these clothes for several days. He listened, decided which one would hold the most information, turned and locked his gaze with hers.

“Good morning, ma’am, and ladies.” He gave them a courtesy nod. “I’m Cuilean Keeley.”

About the Author

J. Paulette, award winning author, lives in a small Ohio town with her husband, and a Basset Hound, who thinks she’s a princess. Her mornings belong to her writing, her days are spent loving her five grandbabies, and her nights belong to her husband, the inspiration for her heroes. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Central Ohio Fiction Writers, Southeast Ohio Novel Writing Group, Northeast Ohio Romance Writers of America, and the Fantasy, Futuristic & Paranormal Chapter of RWA. She also writes under the name of Genevieve Delacroix.
Look for her next release later this year, A Tango Trinity, from Whispers Publishing

www.jpauletteforshey.com
paulette.forshey@facebook.com
Twitter @ForsheyJ
The Estate can be purchased from www.whispershome.com and Amazon.com

AN INTERVIEW WITH JENNIFER ZANE

Please help me welcome my friend and critique partner Jennifer Zane to my blog today. Be sure and leave a comment to be entered into the prize drawing.

How did you get started writing? Years ago my co-workers and I were talking about romance novels and how it would be easy to write one. We figured since there is a specific plot sequence and always a Happily Ever After, how hard could it be? I took this discussion seriously and considered it a personal challenge. I quickly joined the local Romance Writers chapter, was plopped into a writing group with the most diverse hodge podge of ladies, and started writing. I have to admit, my first book, a Western historical, was terrible! But, after over ten years, my writing group is still as hodge podge as ever, but we’re the closest group of friends and each others’ best (and worst!) critics. I will whole heartedly admit I wouldn’t have kept at my romance book challenge without my group to coddle, harass and push me. (If you read between the lines here it screams, ‘Hint, hint- Get a writing group!’)

Tell us about your current series. My current series are called the Gnome Novels. The first is Gnome On The Range, the sequel, Gnomeless. They are contemporary romances set in Bozeman, Montana. They are romance, mystery and humor rolled into one. I lived in Bozeman for five years and the stories are based loosely (you’ll see what I mean when you read the books!) on myself, my family, friends and neighbors. Like any small town, it’s quirky and full of book fodder.

I’m excited to say Gnome On The Range won two awards at RomCon 2012. It was the Readers’ Crown winner for Best Contemporary and Best First Book! Knowing READERS gave me this award is very special to me.

Where do you get ideas for your stories? My ideas come from life experiences, friends’ life experiences, the news, etc. Just observing others. I’ll give some examples: My next door neighbor ran the local adult store. Goldie is based loosely on a different neighbor. My son really did get his arm stuck in a patio umbrella stand. I love going to garage sales. I used to work for the local volunteer fire department. I’ve been to more county fairs than I ever thought possible—and wore flip flops. Once. My kids and I had contests watching the thermometer in the car drop down, down, down on the way to school in the morning. The lowest we saw was -23 F in March when the rest of the world was on spring break in their bikinis. My dad towed a trailer with a car on it across the country that came loose. It wasn’t funny for him but works well in a book!

If you look around you, there’s lots of book material. Everywhere.

Excerpt from Gnomeless:

When little girls play make-believe with their dolls, most pretend they’re mommies or princesses or teachers. Have little tea parties with them, play dress-up. That’s what my sister, Violet, did with hers. Me? I played plumber with mine. I dressed my little Betsy Wets-Alot up in a pair of gray coveralls stolen from a male test pilot action figure I’d found at the toy store. He’d been tossed, naked, into the back of my closet until my sister found him and used him for the groom in her pretend weddings.

Not only did I dress my self-wetting doll in menswear, I ran a straw down the pants leg to divert the faux pee away from her anatomically-incorrect little body. No potty for her. I was five and knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I, Veronica Miller, wanted to be a plumber. Just like my father.

Now, over twenty years later, I’d fulfilled my childhood dream. I was the plumber I’d longed to be, working with my dad. Soon to be working on my own. One last payment to my old man stood between his official retirement and my small business owner status.

I smiled to myself about this almost-upon-me momentous occasion while lathering my hair in the shower. I squealed when the spray of water I was standing beneath went cold and quickly rinsed out the strawberry scented shampoo.

“Stupid hot water heater,” I grumbled to myself as I yanked back the plastic shower curtain and stepped out into the steam filled room. I longed to get back to my own house as Violet’s plumbing system needed some serious work. Even in the thick humidity, goose bumps popped out all over my body as I quickly toweled off and snuggled into my ratty, yet wonderfully comfortable flannel robe.

While I leaned over and rubbed my wet hair with a bright pink towel, I heard it. The sound of a key in a lock, the front door opening. I froze in place upside-down, staring at my knees between the edges of the robe, towel tangled with my long hair. Since I was a plumber, not a law enforcement officer, I lacked the training to keep panic at bay. That hot, adrenaline-induced fear rose up inside me between one heartbeat and the next. I swear the little wet hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Help. I needed to get help, but my cell was in my purse, which I’d dropped by the front door, one room away. No house phone.

I stood up, flipped my dark hair back over my shoulder, held my breath and listened. Rustling and a little mumbling was all I could make out. Who was in the house? Sure, they must have a key since I hadn’t heard a window break, but the only other person who was supposed to have one was Violet, and she was in Utah.

I tiptoed over to the door, bit my lip and winced as I turned the knob and hoped it didn’t squeak. I slowly opened the door as I held my breath. Peeking into the bedroom, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Barely made bed, dirty clothes tossed haphazardly at the wicker hamper. Something heavy thumped onto the floor from the vicinity of the front door and I looked in that direction as if I had x-ray vision and could see through the wall to the person in the living room.

I squeezed through the small gap I’d made in the bathroom doorway, afraid if I opened it anymore, the old hinges would give me away. Breathing as quietly as possible, which was pretty hard in panic mode, I bent down and grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on to use as a weapon. What I held didn’t register. I knew it was solid wood like a baseball bat and as good as I was going to get for protection.

Violet’s house was small, with only one floor and a scary basement I rarely visited. Living room, kitchen, bedroom and bath. That’s it. Which also meant there wasn’t anywhere to hide.

For breaking and entering, the guy wasn’t Mr. Stealth. It was the middle of the afternoon, he’d come in the front door and he was awfully noisy for someone being where they weren’t supposed to be. Even if he was the worst robber ever, that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

My palms were sweaty as I peeked around the door jamb into the living room. His back was to me and he appeared to be looking down at something he held in front of him, probably a cell phone. It appeared he was texting, or reading one. Tall, around six feet, maybe a little more, and solid. He wore jeans and dark leather shoes. His black jacket was a lighter weight than one would expect for the dead of winter in Montana in the throes of a bitter cold snap. A gray knit cap covered most of his dark hair.

I didn’t recognize him, but I wasn’t in the mood to wait for him to turn around and see me. I decided to use the element of surprise. I tiptoed over to him and whacked him on the arm with my wooden weapon. Hard.

Thwack!

I’d aimed for his head, but nerves and slick palms messed me up and I hit his shoulder instead. The reverberations tingled in my fingertips.

“What the…?” Mr. Intruder said, his voice deep, full of surprise, the cell phone dropped to the floor at his feet. He raised a hand to his upper arm. As he started to turn to face me, I hit him again, this time on the back of the head.

Crack!

It wasn’t the sound of his skull breaking, but my weapon instead. The wood broke into two, one piece clattering to the floor.

Intruder grunted, fell to his knees with a thunk, then fell face first onto the floral area rug in front of the fireplace, his face turned toward me.

I stood there motionless, stunned, holding half of my broken weapon. Huh, varsity softball had paid off. It appeared I’d hit a home run. I looked down at the prostrate form on the floor. One leg moved a little, which, combined with some groaning, indicated I hadn’t killed him. Even with his eyes closed, I instantly recognized him.

An Interview with Mary Ann Bernal

Please help me welcome Mary Ann Bernal to my blog today.  Don’t forget to leave a comment in order to be entered into today’s prize drawing.  Mary Ann will be giving away a print edition of The Briton and theDane:Legacy.

What genre(s) do you write in and why?

My genre is historical fiction because I love history.  While my stories are set in Anglo-Saxon Britain when the Vikings terrorized all of Christendom, I also am interested in Ancient Egypt, and Greece, but the rise and fall of the Roman Empire runs close to trumping my interest in British history, jeopardizing my Anglophilic affirmation.

 

Tell us about your current series.

The Briton and the Dane novels bring to life the tumultuous ninth century when the formidable Vikings terrorized the civilized world. The epic adventure runs the gamut of deception, treachery, intrigue, and betrayal during a time of war and conquest in Anglo-Saxon Britain.

 

What is your typical day like?

My work day begins bright and early with a mug of coffee while I wear my book promotion hat.  Next cap is for my volunteer work with our military, which includes writing our deployed soldiers and mentoring new members who sign up to “adopt” a military person for the duration of his/her deployment.  Then its a little break, hitting the treadmill before lunch and catching up on the news.  Finally, the best part of the working day begins – writing time.  I do try to stop writing by dinnertime, but I have and do work overtime when my characters demand I finish their chapter.  Then life happens, the sun sets and rises, and we start over again.  Just love it!

 

What is your favorite dessert/food?

Have you ever had a Napoleon?  That dessert is to die for, and hard to find in the Midwest.  My favorite food is Chinese with seafood a close second.  However, there is a quaint restaurant in Brandon, UK – Mr. G’s – that serves a Yorkshire pudding that’s out of this world – I just have to return to England!

 

How much time do you spend promoting your books?  What works best for you?

Book promotion is very time consuming, which infringes upon my writing time since there are not enough hours in a day to excel at both jobs.  However, being an extremely organized person with excellent time management skills allows me to give 100% to each career.

 

When my first book was traditionally published, I dedicated my time to book promotion, which included the creation of my author webpage and fan pages on Facebook, Twitter, etc..  I also established a presence on numerous book promotion sites, which prompted me to create a list of answers to the questions required when setting up an author account since most of the information requested was “standard.”  Copy/paste saved time when filling out the form, but if a new question was asked, it was added to my list.   Once my accounts were established, following up took less time, but it is still time consuming to check each one for messages, comments, etc.  My personal choice is to devote a few hours each morning on book promotion, and then spend the afternoon writing.  So far this system has worked well for me.

 

 

How has your experience with self-publishing been?

Since I have been fortunate to experience both venues (traditional and self-publishing), my personal preference is self-publishing because of the 100% control of one’s work (cover, text, copyright, promotion etc.).   Learning the publishing business was a challenge at first, but the internet provided answers to my questions and my second novel was self-published both in print and electronically within a short period of time – no waiting on the publishing house and/or editor’s email telling me the book hit the shelves and no waiting on royalties.  In today’s economy, traditionally published authors are expected to aggressively market their work.  If I have to do most of the promotional work myself, why should I have to “giveaway” my copyright and accept reduced royalties?  Also remember if a book does not move on a book shelf in three months, its removed and returned, but with the Print on Demand (POD) option your title lives on.  I have used both Lightning Source and Create Space and have no complaints with either POD company.

 

What advice do you have for other authors wanting to self-publish?

One important factor to remember is that covers actually do help to sell a book.  Unless you are also artistically talented, spend the money on a professional illustrator.  Trust me, this is money well spent.  Having someone other than the author edit the manuscript is highly recommended.  Another issue is the annoying “typo” – and every published book has one that slipped through the cracks.  Do not forget that spell check is not 100% accurate – have one or two friends read the manuscript for typos and check for dropped and/or extra words – better to wait an extra month to publish than to “live with it” once the books goes to print.

 

 

What is your next project and when will it be released?

 

The Briton and the Dane: Concordia will be released in early 2013.

 

EXCERPT

The Briton and the Dane:  Birthright

 

Preface

 

The opulent night sky was ablaze with sparkling stars; the familiar constellations were easily identified by their various shapes and sizes. The North Star was fixed in the heavens, its light steady, a beacon to follow as one headed home.

The falling star’s path was seen for miles as the brilliant white streak of light moved across the evening sky. There were those who believed that the gods were angry and feared the worst but those who followed the new religion did not believe in superstition and omens and often searched for the uncommon metal left at the bottom of the crater after the star collided with the earth. A sword forged from the heavenly remnants proved to be a formidable weapon; plated armor and shields made from the rare material were thought to be impenetrable.

A slight chill and rising mist created an eerie atmosphere around the Keep at the top of the hill. Fog crept slowly over the valley below the magnificent fortress. Most of the inhabitants traded the wooden benches in the great hall for the comfort of their fur-covered beds while dying embers cast a warm glow for the young couples that still lingered beneath the cloudless sky.

Aurelius walked throughout the valley once the sun set. He conferred with his men who guarded the secret entrance that kept the sanctuary safe from the heathen who still plundered and pillaged the land. But he willingly traded the camaraderie that he shared with his brothers in arms for the love bestowed upon a husband by his wife.

Aurelius crossed the courtyard and headed for the Keep. He gazed upon the open sea as moonbeams bounced along the rippling waves and looked across the starlit heavens in search of the North Star.

***

Arista added more wood to the dying fire before she lovingly covered her children with a warm fur-lined blanket. She grabbed a cloak to keep the night chill from penetrating her bones as she quietly left the room to join her husband.

“Are the children sleeping?” Aurelius questioned when he embraced his wife.

Arista nodded as Aurelius tenderly kissed her scarred face and held her tightly in his arms. She no longer hid behind a veil nor did she shy away from her husband’s touch.

Arista was apprehensive when she rested her head against his shoulder and shivered when she saw the falling star disappear into the darkness of the surrounding mountains.

“Perhaps this night your star will return your memory,” she whispered. “Would you want me still when you remember?”

“How could I not want you?” Aurelius quietly replied. “I owe you my life.”

“One day the star will take you from me and our children,” she murmured. “It beckons you to return to your world.”

He held her tightly in a loving embrace and silently watched the flaming celestial bodies race across the horizon.

***

Elizabeth found her brother Cerdic with Lord Bayen atop the wall-walk. She was thankful for their love and support during the difficult months after word reached the citadel that the King’s envoy to the Welsh court had been attacked.

She clearly remembered the day when the horse that carried the young boy dropped dead before Lord Bayen and Thomas, Lord Richard’s advisor. She remembered her anxiety when the lad informed them of the carnage and her fear when he spoke of the dead and gravely wounded. She did not deny that her husband had vanished; what she did deny was the presumption that he had been slain.

Tears swelled when she remembered how Lord Bayen and her brother never left her side during her long and difficult birthing. She remembered their concern when she cried out Stephen’s name and begged to die. She remembered the healer’s fright when she pointed to the Lord’s angel who, she swore, stood before her. She also remembered their obvious relief when the boy that she named Gabriel finally entered the world.

Elizabeth was thankful for their King’s benevolence when he pardoned her brother. She was also grateful to Bishop Thurlac when he granted Cerdic a full dispensation to leave the contemplative cloistered life for other worldly pursuits.

Elizabeth could never repay Lord Bayen for his kindness and protection. She was also aware, as were most, of his undying love and devotion. She was grateful for Lord Bayen’s friendship and continually prayed that one day he would be able to love another.

The men silently watched the bright colorful fireballs raining upon the earth. Elizabeth did not pay attention to the brilliant particles that lit the evening sky but rather kept her sight upon the steady dim light of the North Star where it remained transfixed in its position.

“Do you think that Stephen gazes upon our star this night?” she asked her brother.

“It has been more than two summers yet you still keep your vigil,” Cerdic gently said while he held her in his arms.

“My heart knows that he lives,” Elizabeth whispered. “One day he will return to me and our son.”

 

BIO 

Mary Ann Bernal, author of The Briton and the Dane novels, is an avid history buff whose area of interest focuses on Ninth Century Anglo-Saxon Britain during the Viking Age.  While pursuing a degree in business administration, she managed to fit creative writing classes and workshops into her busy schedule to learn the craft, but it would take decades before her “Erik the Viking” novel was ultimately published.

 

Mary Ann is also a passionate supporter of the United States military, having been involved with letter writing campaigns and other support programs since Operation Desert Storm.  She has appeared on The Morning Blend television show hosted by KMTV, the CBS television affiliate in Omaha, and was interviewed by the Omaha World-Herald for her volunteer work.  She has also been a featured author on various reader blogs and promotional sites.

 

Mary Ann is a New York “expat,” and currently resides in Omaha, Nebraska.

Book Trailer

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fH1qSGHOSMA

 

Webpage:

 

http://www.maryannbernal.com

 

Novels published in association with The Literary Underground

 

http://www.litunderground.com/MaryAnnBernal.html

 

 

Purchase Info:

 

Amazon US

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=mary+ann+bernal&x=0&y=0

 

Amazon UK

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=mary+ann+bernal

 

Barnes and Noble

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/mary-ann-bernal

An Interview with Jessica Lauryn

  1. How did you get started writing?

As a child, I had a very overactive imagination.  I created an imaginary world for my dolls, sort of like the fictitious towns we see in soap operas.  Though my scripts weren’t nearly as colorful as the ones used in daytime TV, I worked constantly to keep my plots going, having no idea that I wasn’t merely playing, but actually writing.  Years later, when I was taking creative writing classes in college, I told my professors I was going to write soap operas after graduation.  I joined a critique group, and, knowing that romance was the genre of my passion, I attempted to “write a romance novel,” never having read one!  My gut telling me that what I’d put together wasn’t quite ready for an editor’s desk, I decided to crack open a real romance novel and “see how it was done.”  I was instantly hooked, and from that day forward I set out to pursue what would become my path to publication.

 2.    Tell us about your current series.

I am currently writing the Pinnacles of Power Series, which is a 5-book series that is centered around a secret diamond smuggling operation called Project Gemstone.  The heroes—Ryan, Alec, Colin, Lucas, and Jack—each play a part in Project Gemstone’s progression, whether they are taking down the bad guys, trying to escape conflicted pasts, or helping to shut the criminal expenditure down once and for all.  The heroines—Abigail, Lena, Julia, Lilah, and Corinne—are strong and independent women, each of which falls for a man who is involved with Project Gemstone.  Each heroine must help her hero to battle his inner demons, and decide whether the love, passion and desire they feel is worth the risk it poses to their hearts.

3.     What is your favorite part of writing?

I love the feeling I get when I write, where I escape into a secret world, in which I, the writer, am in total control of a story.  Heroine’s actions, hero’s actions, secrets of the past, even the outcome are all controlled by me.  I love creating premises, and I love working those premises out, smoothing out all the kinks in a story until it is ready for publication.  Long story short, (no pun intended!) I love many, many things about writing, most especially the fact that I get to do it every day!

4.    How likely are people you meet to end up in your next book?

I’ve had many people over the last several years come up to me and say, “Can you make me a character in a book?”  And the most common answer I give is “I’d love to, but you’re too nice of a person.”

But characters are nice.  Which is certainly true enough.  But it is rather difficult to gauge emotional conflict in people we meet in everyday life as people tend to keep their deepest darkest secrets–well—secret!  And emotional conflict is the key ingredient to creating dynamic characters, and consequently, to writing great stories.

Some people on the other hand will strike you as being just a little odd or unusual.  Which tends to beg the question, “why?”  For me, that is where the imaginative process begins.  If I meet someone who strikes me as unusual or different, I tend to spin my own story about them and yes, they will most likely become a character in a story.  Just not usually the very next story, as that’s probably already on its way.  But three stories past my current WIP is definitely fair game 😉

 5.    Tell us a little about yourself and your latest book.

In my first release, Dangerous Ally, Lucas Ramone, diamond smuggling kingpin, vows to destroy the man his father has hired to spy on him with the intention of stealing his smuggling operation, Project Gemstone…

Hardly a man Lilah Benson goes ahead with her venturous plan to take a job at the Ramone Mansion, for the chance to get the story of a lifetime…

But an unexpected attraction to her source makes it quite difficult for Lilah to get the information she seeks. She soon realizes that the true mystery will be figuring out how to keep from putting her heart into the hands of her eager adversary…

And here’s a little about Dangerous Proposal, my latest release coming this month from Siren BookStrand! 

At nineteen, Alec Westwood nearly committed the most horrific of crimes—murder in cold blood—and narrowly escaped the assigned task with his life.  When a stunning young woman crosses his path wearing the insignia for the organization that recruited him, Alec vows not to let fate get a second chance.  But when the enchantress gives him a kiss that leaves him spellbound, he realizes the power she holds is greater than all his strength and fortitude combined.

On the run from her psychotic fiancé, Lena Benson vows to forge a new life.  But when her new friend Jack tells her to stay away from Alec Westwood—the man she believes her fiancé hired to track her down—she takes matters into her own hands.  Alec may have the look and the charm, but she’s calling the shots this time, even if that means resisting a man who’s eyes and touch rob her, literally, of sense.

6) Tell us about your heroes.  Give us one of their strengths and one of their weaknesses.

Lucas Ramone, hero in Dangerous Ally, is a mysterious, yet, deeply troubled man.  Lucas lost his mother at a young age (rather, he believed she was dead) and he spent the majority of his young life being manipulated by his father, fighting for his father’s affection.  It is this need to fill the emptiness in his life that often drives Lucas to do the bad things he does.  On the flip side, Lucas is strong, brave and chivalrous and he would protect the people he loves to the death, something the heroine Lilah Benson becomes keenly aware of as Lucas comes to her rescue on a great number of occasions.

Alec Westwood, hero in Dangerous Proposal, would give anything to step out of his older brother Colin’s shadow.   In his typical frustration, he has a tendency to make bold moves without thinking, and this tends to get him into trouble.  Alec’s greatest strength is his strength of character.  This is what keeps him from crossing the line at times, like when he is nineteen years old, and, for the sake of proving a point, briefly contemplates committing murder.

7.    What are you currently working on?

I am currently working on the third story in the Pinnacles of Power Series, Dangerous Proposition.  (Which come after Dangerous Proposal, before Dangerous Ally) In this story, Julia Dyson (Lena Benson’s roommate in Dangerous Proposal) learns that her father has been abducted, and believes her teenage crush, Colin Westwood, may be responsible.  Colin, determined to keep Julia from learning his true involvement in her father’s abduction, makes the red-headed temptress an offer.  In exchange for helping her retrieve her missing father, he wants Julia to be his mistress.

8.    What do you have planned for the future?

I’d like to complete the five stories in the Pinnacles of Power series, then, write another romantic suspense series that centers around the Broadway stage.  After that, we’ll see where the wind takes me J

 

BIO

At two years old, Jessica became a devoted fan of both listening to and reciting the books her parents would read to her at night. When she was a little older (about four), she sought a greater challenge in her life, and began making up stories of her own, acting them out with her dolls. “When the dolls got “boyfriends,” she says, “I knew I was getting too old for dolls!”

As a romance novelist and a reader alike, Jessica is most intrigued by dark heroes, who have many demons to conquer…but little trouble enticing female companions into their beds! She feels that the best romances are those where the hero is already seducing the heroine from that first point of contact. “Isn’t it the hero’s job to seduce?” she says with a grin.

Jessica loves to see the sparks fly when a stubborn, domineering hero crosses paths with a bold, feisty heroine, and uses the combination frequently in her stories.

When she’s is not writing, Jessica enjoys listening to as much 80’s music as possible, watching the same re-runs of Smallville over and over, shopping for exceptionally unique cameos, and taking long walks in nature where she can daydream about anything romantic. Though she resides in Central New Jersey, her heart belongs to the White Mountain National Forest in New Hampshire.

Excerpt:

Dangerous Ally

Feeling the warmth of tears in her eyes, Lilah rose from the table. She never became so emotional over nothing. What in God’s name was wrong with her?
Lucas’s strong hand came against her shoulder. She didn’t pull away. In fact, she had the strangest urge to just lean into him. Like somehow, he would take away all of her doubts.

“Lena’s happy in her life with her children, and with Alec Westwood,” he said. “I’d never begrudge her that. All I ever wanted was her happiness.”

The way he said the words, she almost believed them. He seemed to care, or at least, maybe was trying to be a better person.

“You’re trembling,” he said, reaching in before she could stop him. His finger brushed her quivering lip.

Her instinct was to smack his hand. But the tingling sensation racing from mouth to spine kept her in place. Lucas’s touch was so soft. It made her crazy. She was consumed by the strongest desire for his lips to be where his finger was now.

He took her wine glass and held it out to her. “Here,” he said. “This’ll calm your nerves.”

Senses returning with a bang, Lilah held up two hands in protest. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she snapped, not entirely sure whether it was him she was angrier at or herself.

“Am I that obvious?” He laughed as if the whole thing was funny, setting the glass back down.

She enjoyed being in the company of a monster—there was nothing lighthearted about it!

“I’m guessing you’ve probably been down this road too many times, hmm?” Lucas replaced his hand on her shoulder.

“What road would that be, exactly?”

His gray eyes looked deeply into hers. “I’m sure I’m not the first man who’s tried to get you into a relaxed state, Lilah.”

“Actually—” She hesitated, not wanting to get so personal yet feeling she could probably tell him anything and he’d somehow understand. “It’s been a long time, longer than you’d imagine. After I finished college, I had every intention of becoming a journalist. Meaning I’d be out most of the time chasing a story despite whatever danger came with it. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, for as long as I can remember.”
He nodded, coming closer. “You must have been very persistent. It takes a good deal of perseverance and sacrifice to become a success at such a young age.”

Lilah sure knew that. While her friends had been enjoying their last semester of college, she’d been frantically gathering writing samples, sending them out to every newspaper who would give her the time of day. But had her father noticed? Even when she became one of the youngest reporters at the New York Times, he’d barely raised a brow.
Deep down, she knew this was why she’d accepted Raphael’s offer, even in spite of the danger that came with it. A story about Raphael Ramone’s family laundry wasn’t going to impress Blake Benson. But exposing Lucas’s diamond smuggling operation would be a print-worthy unearthing that would win her father’s admiration as well as her first Pulitzer.

She lowered her gaze. “I haven’t given up anything so wonderful.”

Lucas lifted her chin. “But if it came to that, do you think you’d be willing to make that sacrifice? Give up something you want—maybe something you want more than anything—to attain some ultimate level of self-victory?”

A chill came over her at his words. Lilah came back a step, unsure of what had just happened but wanting desperately to pretend it hadn’t.

Lucas cleared his throat. “Let’s get some air, shall we?”

Something she needed desperately. She followed him to the balcony, welcoming the cool night breeze as it caressed her hot skin.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said, hoping very much to steer the conversation in a new direction.

“It is.” He nodded and came beside her, bracing the rail with one hand. He slipped an arm around her back.

His body was warm—like a furnace—and he felt strong, as if he spent his days loading lumber instead of dabbling away at a computer.

Lilah shivered, goose bumps forming along her bare arms. It felt so nice being close to Lucas. Too nice. Maybe she’d just stay there with him a few minutes longer. They weren’t exactly hurting anyone by being in each other’s company.

He leaned into her, speaking in a tone she could only describe as husky. “Those men you never met,” he said, “that was their loss.”

She blinked, keeping her eyes on the night sky. “Please. A man’s the last thing I need in my life.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lucas asked, his warm breath coming against her ear. “Or is it possible you’ve been hiding behind your work for so long, you don’t even know how things could be?” His palm brushed her bare shoulder as he turned her to face him. “No one knows what it’s like to be hidden from the world more than I do, Lilah. You can trust me on this. I think we’re more alike than you realize. And it’s possible we’re both missing out on something incredible.”

She didn’t push his hand away as it cupped her cheek. Or his arm as it encompassed her waist. No, she let him do what he wanted. She wanted him to touch her…

Dangerous Proposal

Trista’s sweet laughter filled the air as Lena opened the door. The little girl was pointing her finger up at the doctor. His back was turned in her direction, but he was tall and had wavy, black hair. There was something strangely familiar about him.

Lena had never been to Memorial Hospital before. How would she know anyone who worked there?

“I’m not a little monkey,” Trista said, laughing. She gave the doctor’s white coat a tug.

“Oh yes you are.” He pressed a finger to her little nose.

“No, I’m not.” She laughed, pushing him back. “You’re a monkey head.” Her eyes lit as she turned around. “Miss Lena!”

Fresh tears formed in Lena’s eyes. She raced to the bed, throwing her arms around Trista. Faintly, she heard the doctor’s clipboard hit the floor with a smack.

She must have bumped into him as she ran by. But there was plenty of time to apologize.

“Trista, I’m so glad you’re ok,” she said, holding the little girl tightly against her chest.

“I’m all better now, Miss Lena,” Trista said. “I bumped my head. But it’s ok now.”

Lena did her best to hide her watery eyes. Trista seemed completely unfazed by what had happened. It was as if a different child had cracked her head open on the playground.

“You scared me today,” she said softly. “We’re going to hold the handle bars every time we ride our bikes from now on, aren’t we?” She turned to the doctor. “My God, I don’t know how to thank—”

Lena gripped the bar surrounding the bed. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Trista’s doctor was the man from Valley Tavern, the man from Julia’s backyard. He was none other than Alec himself!

A doctor—he was a doctor! Wearing a white coat and looking at her with eyes as wide as her own. With a professional ensemble to compliment his handsome exterior, he was the heartthrob of every woman’s fantasy for sure.

Suddenly, he began to look her over more slowly. With his deep blue eyes locked with hers, intensity transformed to pure, wicked deviltry. He wasn’t simply looking at her, as he had those other times. He was challenging her. Daring her to speak first. She swallowed, tightening her hold on the handle of the bed.

“Trista,” a soft voice called from the doorway.

Lena released the breath she’d been holding in. She’d almost forgotten about the little girl sitting beside them. Suddenly there were two other people in the room. A man, with curly blonde hair, like his daughter’s. And a woman with a long brunette mane.

Well, it was better late than never. She’d begun to think maybe Trista was an orphan. After a brief reintroduction, she decided to give the family a few minutes alone. She went to the door, assuring herself that she definitely needed some air.

Clutching the doorknob, she jolted as a hand touched down on her back.

“A moment of your time, Miss Gallagher.”

Alec was right behind her, their bodies practically touching. She didn’t dare turn around out of fear that she might fall straight into his arms—exactly where he wanted her. He placed his large, warm hand over hers and turned the doorknob, urging her into the hall. Moving steadily behind hers, his body forced her to either walk forward or risk bumping right up against him.

Moments later, Lena found herself in a dimly lit corridor—a place she was certain no one else in the hospital even knew existed. Though, the darkness didn’t make it any easier to hide her trembling hands. Her heart beat wildly as Alec circled her, caressing her body with his sinful blue eyes. She moved back a step, coming against the wall.

A mischievous smile formed on Alec’s lips. Putting his hand against the tile behind her, he barricaded her exit.

“Lena Gallagher.” He shook his head, making a tsking sound with his tongue. “Imagine that. Allowing an innocent child to fall from a tricycle. What sort of a negligent caregiver does a thing like that?”

Lena’s face burned. “Negligent caregiver? I—”

“It’s certainly a good thing I was there to come to the rescue. But then that’s just the kind of man I am, you see. Lucky for you. Otherwise”—he lowered his voice—“you’d be in an awful lot of trouble right now. Wouldn’t you?”

“Are we through here, Dr. Westwood? I wouldn’t want to be taking up anymore of your precious time.”

“Now, now, Miss Gallagher. That isn’t any way to speak to the man who just saved your little girl. Not to mention job, I’m sure. Correct me if I’m wrong. That makes the score two to zero. Does it not?”

“Is that what this is to you? Some sort of sick game? Trista could have died! No doctor with any true ethics would try to take advantage of something like that. Just how big of a jerk are you?”

He grinned. “Don’t you wish you knew?”

She put her hands against the front of his jacket, shoving him back as hard as she could. “I’m leaving.”

She started forward, but he caught her by the arm. Her eyes came wide open as she turned around. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Perhaps you ought to think more carefully before making bets you have no chance of winning. I let you walk away from me once. This time, I don’t intend to make it quite so…easy.”

“What do you want from me?” she asked in a whisper.

“You know what I want, Lena. And I know that you want this as much as I do.”

 

An Interview with Britt Bury

Please help me welcome Britt Bury to my blog today.  Remember to leave a comment.  There will be a drawing for a prize but you have to leave a comment to be entered.

 Thank you so much for hosting me Cynthia!

 

How did you get started writing?

I started writing when I was young. It was a calming outlet and something I enjoyed. In second grade, we had an assignment to write a story and mine was chosen to be “published.” (By “published,” I mean taken to Kinko’s and photocopied) Still! I was so excited and just knew I had made it to the big time. It was then I knew that I wanted to write books for the rest of my life. I still have that laminated, Kinko’s bound story about bears and to this day I consider it to be my first published work J

What genre(s) do you write in and why?

I write paranormal romance. I have a hard time with the real world sometimes. It gets so…overwhelming. Writing paranormal gives me a chance to escape and live an adventure I might not otherwise ever experience.

Tell us about your current series.

The Immortal Heat series is just taking off. The Darkest Day is the first installment. Book two is coming out soon and revolves around a Mystic Fionn and a Strigoi. I’m currently writing book three which is about a Poet Fionn and a Wolverine Pookah.  I’m really excited because each book has a totally different tone and the immortal breeds also differ greatly.

What inspired your latest book?

My grandfather’s family emigrated from Scotland. We are part of the Campbell clan. My grandmother has Native American ancestry and I got to thinking about how my family’s history was unique in itself. Two different people, from different lands and cultures coming together to take on the world. I loved that idea and took it to a paranormal level.

Where do you get the ideas for your stories?

I did some research into my Scottish and Native roots and discovered some interesting folklore, like Fionns and Pookahs. From there, I put my own spin on these beings, like the three different breeds and their abilities. Immortality is sexy and unique in the real world, but as I’ve admitted, the real world and I don’t always get along. I decided to turn everything around and make immortals the norm and humans the unique. I really wanted to take on the idea that though humans may be considered vulnerable compared to an immortal, it doesn’t mean they are weak.

Do you have critique partners?

I do! And my books would not be the same without them. Marina Adair is actually my go to girl. She has spent countless hours plotting and talking books out with me. She knows my characters as well as I do and on more than one occasion she has pulled me out of a horrible case of writers block.

What is your favorite dessert/food?

So there’s this lemon cream cake at Olive Garden that I’m in love with. I’ve considered leaving my husband for this cake. I don’t know what it is, but it is the best thing I’ve ever had in my life. (I take dessert really seriously, can you tell?) J

Give us an elevator pitch for your book.

When the most powerful female on earth unknowingly sheds a life-long glamour, she reveals that she is the last human in existence—and the one man bound to keep her safe is the one who hates her the most.

Do you have a view in your writing space?

What does your space look like?  I have my little corner. Pictures, posters and keepsakes are hung on the walls next to my white board. Everything from my Elvis calendar to photos of from my first trip to New York for the RWA conference are all pinned up. Anything that reminds me of all the wonderful experiences I’ve had is up there, and when I feel like I just suck and am a loser who will never write again, I sit there, take a few deep breaths and remember that things will be okay.

What are you currently working on?

I’m currently working on book three in the Immortal Heat series. I’m really excited how it’s turning out, however I’m a little nervous. The heroine is very different compared to the women I’m use to writing.

What do you have planned for the future?

I mostly plan to stalk Larissa Ione until she agrees to become my best friend…other than that, I hope to keep writing. Hopefully it will be stories people want to read. J

Do you have any words of inspiration for aspiring authors?

Stick with it! There will be a lot of negativity and hurdles to overcome. There will be moments that even you believe you can’t become an author. Don’t listen to any of it! Hold on tight to the support of those around you and to the drive within yourself. We all have some inner-awesome, cling to that and just keep going even when you feel like you can’t.

Sneak Peek – TAME A WILD BRIDE

I plan on releasing the next book in my Tame series by the end of July. Joining TAME A WILD HEART and TAME A WILD WIND will be TAME A WILD BRIDE. Here is an excerpt of the book. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think. One lucky commenter will win copies of the first two books in the series.

Rosemary Stanton stood on the train platform sweating and waiting. Sweating because it was an unusually hot day in late April. Waiting for her husband. A husband she wouldn’t recognize if he were standing right next to her.

She’d been desperate when she answered the advertisement for a mail order bride. Wanted: Single woman to cook, clean, and care for children on a cattle ranch in southwestern Colorado. Will marry upon arrival.

Well, she was twenty-six with no prospects. Her brother just got married and his new wife, Beatrice, didn’t want Rosie around. She could answer this advertisement or become a governess. Help someone else’s children grow up into adults. Live in someone else’s house. For the rest of her life, she’d have nothing she could call her own.

Rosie wanted a home. She wanted a husband and children. All the things she’d never have if she stayed in Philadelphia. When she’d seen the ad in the morning paper, she’d nearly shouted with glee. However, she managed to restrain herself until she got to her room before she yelled with joy. The advertisement was tailor-made for her needs. It got her away from Beatrice and got her her own home all in one fell swoop.

Her brother, Robert, though was not happy with the idea of his baby sister traveling across the country to marry a stranger. He grudgingly agreed to give her her dowry to take with her. Five thousand dollars. She’d take the draft to the bank as soon as she arrived in Creede, Colorado, and married Mr. Thomas Harris. Cattle rancher. It was her “in case it doesn’t work out” money. Though she supposed it would belong to her husband once she married. Perhaps she just wouldn’t tell him about it. Her conscience spoke up. That’s no way to start a marriage. With lies and secrets. Oh, all right. She’d tell him and have him take her to the bank. But not until after she’d taken his measure. If he was a cruel man, she would leave and she sure as heck wouldn’t tell him about her money.

Even with the dowry, there’d been few prospects for Rosie back in Philadelphia. She wasn’t pretty in the conventional sense. She thought her face with its big brown eyes and full lips was pleasing enough, but men apparently hadn’t. Her one beau told her that her eyes were the color of warm brandy. That was before he left her to marry another more suitable woman. More suitable, hah! Richer was more like it.

He’d had expensive tastes and married a rabbit-faced girl, heir to a substantial fortune to which he’d have access. Well, good luck and good riddance.

Rosie did have one extraordinary feature. Her hair. Waist length, wavy and a clear, golden blonde. Right now, standing on the train platform in Creede it was bound up in a loose bun on top of her head under her hat. It, like the rest of her, was covered in dust and soot from the train. She’d discovered on the second day she could minimize the grime by sitting in the front of the car with the window closed. But sooner or later the heat and mugginess of the car would force her to open the window. The air came rushing in, cooling her, but bringing with it the dirt and ash from the train’s boilers.

On the long trip, she’d told herself again and again she’d made the right decision. This was her future.

“Excuse me. Miss Stanton?”

Rosie shaded her eyes from the late afternoon sun and looked up at a tall man with dark hair. His hat was pulled low, hiding his eyes. He had a strong jaw covered with a shadow of whiskers.

“Yes. I’m Rosemary Stanton.”

He took off his hat and held out his hand. “I’m Tom Harris.”

Rosie took his hand. It engulfed hers with a shock of warmth. Her pale skin stood in stark contrast to his tanned one. Calluses rubbed against her soft palm though the touch was not unpleasant. She looked from their clasped hands up into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Harris.”

“Tom. Call me, Tom.”

“And I’m Rosie.”

“Where are your trunks, Rosie?”

“Oh, I don’t have any trunks. I only brought what I thought I would need out here.”

He picked up the two valises at her feet. “Doesn’t seem like much for an Eastern woman. I’m glad to see you’re practical.”

Rosie felt the heat in her cheeks and knew she blushed at his praise, undeserving as it was. “Well, I didn’t think you’d have any balls.”