Author Archives: Cindy Woolf

Genevieve, Bride of Nevada

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In an unprecedented event 45 authors got together to write 50 stories, one for each state in the United States. The stories take place in 1890 and are being released in the order the state entered the Union.

My state is Nevada, the 36th state. Here is an excerpt of Genevieve, Bride of Nevada. Here is an the blurb and an excerpt.

Genevieve,BrideofNevadaBlurb:

A warehouse fire in Lawrence, Massachusetts has taken Genevieve “Genny” Copeland’s livelihood, but opened a new opportunity for her. If she takes the chance, she could have the family she’s always dreamed of but it would mean leaving everything she’s always known. Believing that opportunity only knocks once, Genny gets on a train west to Elko, Nevada and a new life. She becomes a mail-order bride.

Stuart MacDonnell lost his wife in child-birth six months ago. Now he’s left to raise a 2 year-old and a 6 month-old baby alone. He needs a wife but doesn’t want to court someone and pretend to be in love. He’ll never love again, but he needs a wife now and orders a mail-order bride.

Can Stuart and Genny come together and find happiness when they are at odds with each other? Will they find common ground and will love bloom amid the beautiful Ruby Mountains of Nevada?

Amazon Link http://amzn.com/B017ZIA9QE

EXCERPT:

October 11, 1890

Genny boarded the train headed west. All the money she had in the world, thirty dollars, was in her reticule. As the train pulled away from the station, Genny watched Lawrence, Massachusetts, the only place she’d ever known, fade away. Fear mixed with excitement enveloped her.

Her husband-to-be had two children. A little boy and a baby girl. And eventually they would have children of their own. His already having children was one of the things that appealed to her about him. Genny loved children. She’d been raised in an orphanage and from the time she was ten, she cared for the younger children and babies that came through. The children were the only thing she missed about the orphanage.

She was seated in a sparse car with ten rows of padded wooden seats, two on each side of a center aisle. A latrine was located in the rear of the car and she’d had to open her window several times to get rid of the stale smell. A little fresh air was all she wanted but more often than not, the refreshing breeze was accompanied by ash from the locomotive.

When she left Massachusetts she’d bought a loaf of bread, a round of cheese, and a couple of apples. That supply only lasted the first two days. The rest of her trip she had to buy food at the stops along the way or not eat at all which she did for two meals every day. She figured she could get by on one meal a day, though her stomach think so if the sounds coming from it were any indication.

She would travel to Elko, Nevada where Stuart would pick her up and she hoped they would stay for a few days getting to know each other before they married and left for her husband’s ranch in the Lamoille Valley, seventeen miles east of Elko. His letter said the trip would take three hours by wagon. She grimaced at the thought of more travel, but thought it would give them a chance to get to know each other. Give her more of a chance for a congenial relationship.

Genny’s train arrived in Elko seven days after she left Massachusetts. She had changed trains four times before getting on the Western Pacific Railroad into Elko.

A week of sitting upright in a rail car with ash and smoke wafting through the air was more than enough for her. She’d kept as clean as she could, using public bathrooms where she could find them and water pumps when she had to. All she wanted was a hot bath, and to get out of the corset she wore.

The discomfort she felt didn’t distract at all the different landscapes she’d been through. She thought the Rocky Mountains were the most magnificent things she’d ever seen. The Ruby Mountains she was in now though were quite lovely, too.

“Elko. Elko station.” The conductor for the came through announcing the stations as they approached. All of the conductors on each rail line had done this.

“This is your station, miss.”

She looked at the man and smiled. “Thank you, Henry. You’ve been most kind to me.”

She held out her gloved hand.

He took her hand in a gentle shake.

“I hope you have a good stay in Elko. Though, for the life of me I can’t imagine what a woman like you will do in a place like this.”

She sucked in a breath wondering what he meant by his statement. Though she had noticed that the little town seemed rather sparse and drab in comparison to some of the cities and towns she’d been through. “I’m getting married. I won’t be in Elko long.”

“Well, congratulations. Have a wonderful life.”

She hoped the conductor’s words came true. She always wanted a home and family of her own and this was her chance. Her only chance. “I will. Thank you.”

Henry tipped his cap and walked on, announcing the station one more time before exiting her car.

Once the train slowed and finally stopped, Genny grabbed her bag from the overhead bin. The contents of one carpet bag were all she claimed for possessions. A couple of gingham dresses, two black bombazine skirts, and three blouses—one  pink, one blue and one white. One change each of chemise and of bloomers, and two pairs of socks rounded out the clothing she owned. She wore a traveling suit, her only petticoats, her black wool coat and lace-up boots. Not much to show for twenty-five years on this earth.

Genny was an orphan, so she didn’t have anything from her parents and had never had enough money to buy herself jewelry. Her wedding ring would be the first piece she’d ever owned.

Putting a roof over her head and food on the table had taken just about everything she earned. Seven dollars and fifty cents a week didn’t allow much room for anything but the essentials. She had taken months to save enough money for the boots she wore, but she needed them. She’d been lining the old pair with newsprint because of the holes in the soles. Half of what would have been this month’s rent had finally given her sufficient funds.

She walked out to the platform between the cars and down the stairs to the station platform. Excitement made her stomach feel as though butterflies were fluttering around inside her.

Never in her life was she so glad to be somewhere as she was now. And she didn’t care if she ever rode a train again.

“Have a good life, Miss Genny,” the conductor said, holding her bag with one hand and helping her down the steps with the other.

“Thank you, Henry. You as well.”

Genny took her hat and slapped it against her thigh hoping to remove some of the ash from the journey. Looking down she saw that her coat was the worse for wear and took it off and shook it, ash and dirt floating from it into the air. She shivered and put back on her coat, then picked up her bag and walked up to the one-story yellow station. She peeked in the window and saw a small waiting room with a potbellied stove and a ticket window.

The wind rushed past, making her pull the lapels of her coat closer and she thought about heading inside to get out of the cold. But how would Mr. MacDonnell find her? For the time being, she waited where she was. If she got too cold before he came then she could always retreat into the building.

Genny shivered in the cold wind, her coat unable to keep out the invisible force that froze her to the spot. Or had the approach of the tall man in the black hat, the collar of his sheepskin coat flipped up against the chill kept her motionless?

He stopped in front of her.

“Miss Copeland?”

His voice washed over her, a deep, silky baritone that sent shivers—having nothing to do with the weather—up her spine.

“Yes, I’m Genevieve Copeland, but everyone calls me Genny.” She held out her gloved hand. “Are you Mr. MacDonnell?”

His hand engulfed hers.

“I am. Stuart MacDonnell.”

He held her hand for a moment too long as his gaze took in her face and then traveled down her body. Perhaps she wasn’t wrong to hope for a solid marriage.

BIO:

CW_04 300x400Cynthia Woolf is the award winning and best-selling author of sixteen historical western romance books and two short stories with more books on the way.

Cynthia loves writing and reading romance. Her first western romance Tame A Wild Heart, was inspired by the story her mother told her of meeting Cynthia’s father on a ranch in Creede, Colorado. Although Tame A Wild Heart takes place in Creede that is the only similarity between the stories. Her father was a cowboy not a bounty hunter and her mother was a nursemaid (called a nanny now) not the ranch owner.

Cynthia credits her wonderfully supportive husband Jim and her great critique partners for saving her sanity and allowing her to explore her creativity.

TITLES AVAILABLE

GENEVIEVE, Bride of Nevada, – American Mail-Order Brides Series

GIDEON – The Surprise Brides

MAIL ORDER OUTLAW – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 1

MAIL ORDER DOCTOR – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 2

MAIL ORDER BARON – The Brides of Tombstone, Book 3

NELLIE – The Brides of San Francisco 1

ANNIE – The Brides of San Francisco 2

CORA – The Brides of San Francisco 3

JAKE (Book 1, Destiny in Deadwood series)

LIAM (Book 2, Destiny in Deadwood series)

ZACH (Book 3, Destiny in Deadwood series)

CAPITAL BRIDE (Book 1, Matchmaker & Co. series)

HEIRESS BRIDE (Book 2, Matchmaker & Co. series)

FIERY BRIDE (Book 3, Matchmaker & Co. series)

TAME A WILD HEART (Book 1, Tame series)

TAME A WILD WIND (Book 2, Tame series)

TAME A WILD BRIDE (Book 3, Tame series)

TAME A SUMMER HEART (short story, Tame series)

TAME A HONEYMOON HEART (novella, Tame series)

WEBSITE – www.cynthiawoolf.com

NEWSLETTER – http://bit.ly/1qBWhFQ

 

GENEVIEVE: Bride of Nevada, American Mail-Order Brides Series, Book 36

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Genevieve,BrideofNevadaI was so honored to be asked to write a book for this series. I chose Nevada because of the beautiful Ruby Mountains where I’d decided to place the story. I hope you will enjoy Genny and Stuart’s love story. Here is an excerpt.

Genny boarded the train headed west. All the money she had in the world, thirty dollars, was in her reticule. As the train pulled away from the station, Genny watched Lawrence, Massachusetts, the only place she’d ever known, fade away. Fear mixed with excitement enveloped her.

Her husband-to-be had two children. A little boy and a baby girl. And eventually they would have children of their own. His already having children was one of the things that appealed to her about him. Genny loved children. She’d been raised in an orphanage and from the time she was ten, she cared for the younger children and babies that came through. The children were the only thing she missed about the orphanage.

She was seated in a sparse car with ten rows of padded wooden seats, two on each side of a center aisle. A latrine was located in the rear of the car and she’d had to open her window several times to get rid of the stale smell. A little fresh air was all she wanted but more often than not, the refreshing breeze was accompanied by ash from the locomotive.

When she left Massachusetts she’d bought a loaf of bread, a round of cheese, and a couple of apples. That supply only lasted the first two days. The rest of her trip she had to buy food at the stops along the way or not eat at all which she did for two meals every day. She figured she could get by on one meal a day, though her stomach think so if the sounds coming from it were any indication.

She would travel to Elko, Nevada where Stuart would pick her up and she hoped they would stay for a few days getting to know each other before they married and left for her husband’s ranch in the Lamoille Valley, seventeen miles east of Elko. His letter said the trip would take three hours by wagon. She grimaced at the thought of more travel, but thought it would give them a chance to get to know each other. Give her more of a chance for a congenial relationship.

Genny’s train arrived in Elko seven days after she left Massachusetts. She had changed trains four times before getting on the Western Pacific Railroad into Elko.

A week of sitting upright in a rail car with ash and smoke wafting through the air was more than enough for her. She’d kept as clean as she could, using public bathrooms where she could find them and water pumps when she had to. All she wanted was a hot bath, and to get out of the corset she wore.

The discomfort she felt didn’t distract at all the different landscapes she’d been through. She thought the Rocky Mountains were the most magnificent things she’d ever seen. The Ruby Mountains she was in now though were quite lovely, too.

“Elko. Elko station.” The conductor for the came through announcing the stations as they approached. All of the conductors on each rail line had done this.

“This is your station, miss.”

She looked at the man and smiled. “Thank you, Henry. You’ve been most kind to me.”

She held out her gloved hand.

He took her hand in a gentle shake.

“I hope you have a good stay in Elko. Though, for the life of me I can’t imagine what a woman like you will do in a place like this.”

She sucked in a breath wondering what he meant by his statement. Though she had noticed that the little town seemed rather sparse and drab in comparison to some of the cities and towns she’d been through. “I’m getting married. I won’t be in Elko long.”

“Well, congratulations. Have a wonderful life.”

She hoped the conductor’s words came true. She always wanted a home and family of her own and this was her chance. Her only chance. “I will. Thank you.”

Henry tipped his cap and walked on, announcing the station one more time before exiting her car.

Once the train slowed and finally stopped, Genny grabbed her bag from the overhead bin. The contents of one carpet bag were all she claimed for possessions. A couple of gingham dresses, two black bombazine skirts, and three blouses—one  pink, one blue and one white. One change each of chemise and of bloomers, and two pairs of socks rounded out the clothing she owned. She wore a traveling suit, her only petticoats, her black wool coat and lace-up boots. Not much to show for twenty-five years on this earth.

Genny was an orphan, so she didn’t have anything from her parents and had never had enough money to buy herself jewelry. Her wedding ring would be the first piece she’d ever owned.

Putting a roof over her head and food on the table had taken just about everything she earned. Seven dollars and fifty cents a week didn’t allow much room for anything but the essentials. She had taken months to save enough money for the boots she wore, but she needed them. She’d been lining the old pair with newsprint because of the holes in the soles. Half of what would have been this month’s rent had finally given her sufficient funds.

She walked out to the platform between the cars and down the stairs to the station platform. Excitement made her stomach feel as though butterflies were fluttering around inside her.

Never in her life was she so glad to be somewhere as she was now. And she didn’t care if she ever rode a train again.

“Have a good life, Miss Genny,” the conductor said, holding her bag with one hand and helping her down the steps with the other.

“Thank you, Henry. You as well.”

Genny took her hat and slapped it against her thigh hoping to remove some of the ash from the journey. Looking down she saw that her coat was the worse for wear and took it off and shook it, ash and dirt floating from it into the air. She shivered and put back on her coat, then picked up her bag and walked up to the one-story yellow station. She peeked in the window and saw a small waiting room with a potbellied stove and a ticket window.

The wind rushed past, making her pull the lapels of her coat closer and she thought about heading inside to get out of the cold. But how would Mr. MacDonnell find her? For the time being, she waited where she was. If she got too cold before he came then she could always retreat into the building.

Genny shivered in the cold wind, her coat unable to keep out the invisible force that froze her to the spot. Or had the approach of the tall man in the black hat, the collar of his sheepskin coat flipped up against the chill kept her motionless?

He stopped in front of her.

“Miss Copeland?”

His voice washed over her, a deep, silky baritone that sent shivers—having nothing to do with the weather—up her spine.

“Yes, I’m Genevieve Copeland, but everyone calls me Genny.” She held out her gloved hand. “Are you Mr. MacDonnell?”

His hand engulfed hers.

“I am. Stuart MacDonnell.”

He held her hand for a moment too long as his gaze took in her face and then traveled down her body. Perhaps she wasn’t wrong to hope for a solid marriage.

Neither had removed their gloves, but Genny would bet that his hands were rough, given the work he did for a living. She knew a rancher worked outside a lot, tending animals.

“Please come with me. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging for the judge to marry us upon your arrival.”

Genny’s heart leapt to her throat.

“So quickly? I thought we’d have a day or two in town to become better acquainted before we married.”

“I’m sorry, but we have to return to the ranch before this storm sets in.” He gestured toward the sky, full of storm clouds she hadn’t noticed before. “I brought a couple of blankets to wrap up in for the ride.”

This was what she’d signed up for…to be this man’s wife. Genny took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her nervous stomach.

“Very well. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

The corners of his mouth turned up, but he said nothing, just picked up her bag and started toward a wagon at the end of the platform.

Genny walked beside the man who would be her husband. Close up, she saw he had blue eyes and brown hair. He was lean but by the way he moved she could tell he was also muscular. That made sense. From what she’d read at the library in Lawrence, ranching was a hard life. That was all right. Genny wasn’t afraid of hard work.

 

An Interview with Sharon Struth

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Harvest Moon CoverTell us about your current series.

The Blue Moon Lake Romances are about small town in Northwestern Connecticut. I live in a small town in this state and learned fast after I moved here this place has a personality of its own. It’s neighborly, but definitely quirky. I loosely modeled fictional Northbridge after what I see here, but the story and details are made up. This is a story about people finding their way in life and having second chances at romance.

Tell us about the hero in Harvest Moon.

Trent Jamieson is a recovering addict and a musician on the side. He has moved to the fictional town of Northbridge to earn a living as the Marketing Manager for his brother’s vineyard. Trent can come across as cocky, but it’s mostly to make up for the lack of love in his his life. In Share the Moon (series book one), we learn about how Trent became an adopted member in the Jamieson clan (no spoilers here). His decision to leave the city and head to a job in the country is for a fresh start where he hopes to find a piece of himself always missing.

Tell us about the heroine in Harvest Moon?

Veronica Sussinham runs the town library. Not her life’s ambition, but in graduate school an attack sent her back to the safety of the small rural town where she was raised. The attack left her scarred and unable to trust. Only lately, she’s begun to form a friendship with a man on the Internet who she likes, even wants to trust. She also meets a new man to town, Trent Jameison, who unravels her in ways she can’t figure out. What she doesn’t know, is he’s the stranger she’s been falling for on the Internet.

What is your typical day like?

I wake at 6:15 without an alarm clock, shower and get dressed. After a quick breakfast, I’m in my upstairs office by 7:45 and hard at work.  I’ve usually got two books going; one in edit mode and another in the first draft stages. I usually do a little marketing. Breaks are taken to walk the dog, visit the refrigerator (ugh, too many of those!) and of course, check Facebook and email. I close shop around 6.

Sounds pretty glamorous, huh?

Do you have critique partners?

I have two who I work with by exchanging chapters on a regular basis and I one where we tend to exchange entire novels for critique. It’s a tool that writers should use and listen to. The advice of a peer can go a long way to making a better book.

Do you have a favorite dessert/food?

I love cheese. Any kind. I’m an equal opportunity cheese eater.

Do you have a view in your writing space? What does your space look like?

I have a view into my back yard, trees and the back of a neighbor’s house. My space is cozy and makes me feel special because I’ve surrounded it with the accomplishments of my writing labors. Here’s a picture.

Do you prefer to read in the same genre you write in or do you avoid reading that genre. Why?

My reading tastes are eclectic and have never been only about romance, the genre my titles fall under. In fact, I love mystery and suspense. I do read a lot of women’s fiction, too. Rarely pure romance, and yet, I love stories where people fall in love. This might explain why my books are about romance, but there are always elements of mystery and a woman’s story woven into the plot.

Excerpt from Harvest Moon:

This kiss. Oh, this heavenly kiss. Veronica patted herself on the back for pushing aside her first instinct to remove Jim’s hands from her waist in a public place. The way he’d whispered “sexy” drove a warm blast straight to the core of her belly.

This time when they kissed, his mouth molded perfectly to hers, not his usual awkward preamble. He was strong and demanding, yet not too pushy. His relaxed lips lulled her into a quick surrender, a surrender she strangely didn’t mind at all. His hand slipped to the back of her head, and she sighed into his mouth, wishing this kiss would never end. Slowly and surely, however, he pulled away, but she kept her eyes closed, clinging to the sensation a few seconds longer as his breath landed near her ear.

“God, baby,” he said, low and husky. “I can’t wait to get out of here with you later.”

Not. Jim’s. Voice.

Her eyes flashed open. She slapped her palms to the stranger’s chest, pushed him away. “What the hell!”

He stumbled back a few steps, his mouth agape and brows furrowed. “You’re not Angie.”

“Well, you’re not Jim! How dare you touch—”

“Calm down. I thought you were my date.” He blinked a few times. “Hey, I know you. From—”

“The elevator.” Her head spun as she stared into his crystal blue eyes. His gaze swept her from head to toe, making his dark lashes flutter. “Thank God you kept your lips to yourself then.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” His smiled dropped. “I’d never do that to a stranger.” With a slight cock of his head, a grin creased his cheeks and he lowered his voice. “Although I’m pretty sure we both enjoyed what just happened.”

Her face burned, as if set on fire. “How dare you suggest that I—”

“Hey! You guys are early.” Sophie entered the bar area, Duncan in tow.

Veronica tried to speak but found herself more flabbergasted when Sophie walked right up to Hotlips and they hugged. “Hi, Trent.”

Veronica pinched herself in a bid to wake from this surreal dream. Before she could gather her bearings, Duncan surrounded her in one of his big bear hugs. “Ronnie, you look beautiful. New dress?”

She blinked, nodded.

Sophie came over and hugged Veronica. “You okay?” she whispered in Veronica’s ear.

“I’m fine. Happy birthday.” From over Sophie’s shoulder, Trent watched them. Veronica narrowed her gaze, but he only grinned, like the devil might if he learned your biggest secret.

Duncan slung an arm around Trent’s shoulders. “I see you’ve met my brother.”

“Yes. I have.” The heat of her cheeks still simmered.

Trent winked in her direction, and a sizzling blast assaulted every inch of her skin. “Pearls made me feel right at home.”

“Pearl? That’s not my name.”

“Pearls,” he corrected, an extra emphasis on the s. “Like your necklace.”

She reached up and touched the smooth, hard jewels near her collarbone. A few other guests arrived and snagged Sophie and Duncan’s attention. While she clutched the hard beads and tried to digest what just went down, she glanced at Trent. He watched her closely, but a playful twinkle in his eyes suggested the case-of-mistaken-identity kiss hadn’t upset him a bit.

Trent inched closer and she braced herself, but for what, she wasn’t certain. He quietly said, “You wore pearls the first time we met, too.” He arched a single brow and tipped his head toward the doorway. “Come on. We’re heading to the banquet room.”

 

Book Blurb:

 Getting past the librarian’s guard…

Trent Jamieson isn’t one for virtual romance, but there’s something about the intriguing woman he meets on the Internet he can’t resist. Then the small town bachelor discovers the mystery woman who shares her secrets with him online is the laced-up librarian in his self-defense class! Veronica Sussingham may just be his toughest student yet. Because how can he show the vulnerable beauty that some men are worth letting your guard down for?

Veronica returned to her hometown seeking shelter for her shattered spirit. The last thing she needs is a blue-eyed charmer who wants to show her how to live—and love—again. Then she discovers Trent is not just another admirer, but a man who knows her deepest secrets. Now Veronica must choose between running from her past—or finding future happiness with the kind of man she swore she’d never fall for….

 “Struth has a gift for layering stories within stories while keeping them all connected.”—Library Journal

“Sharon Struth writes a good story about love and loss. She knows her characters and has a path she wants them to take.”—Eye on Romance

 Book Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tUXrrq2pLK8

Sharon Struth Author Pic About the Author:

Bestselling author Sharon Struth believes you’re never too old to pursue a dream. The Hourglass, her debut novel, is a finalist in the National Readers’ Choice Awards for Best first Book. Her follow-up release, SHARE THE MOON-Book one in the Blue Moon Lake Novel Series-is published by Kensington Books and is a Barnes & Noble romance bestseller. The series also includes Twelve Nights (11/15), Harvest Moon (12/15) and Bella Luna (2016).

She writes from the friendliest place she’s ever lived, Bethel, Connecticut, along with her husband, two daughters and canine companion. For more information, including where to find her published essays, please visit www.sharonstruth.com

Buy Links:

Amazon   /   Barnes & Noble   /   Kobo   /

Kensington Publishing /  Google   /  Apple​   / Amazon UK

Social Media

Website

Musings from the Middle Ages

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

 

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Leora, Bride of California (American Mail-Order Brides, Book 31) by Kit Morgan

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KitMorgan_Leora1400Blurb: Leora, Bride of California, is the thirty-first book in the unprecedented 50-book American Mail-Order Brides Series!

Her sister gone, her roommates soon to follow, Leora Mitchell must now face the fact that she, along with the others, are mail-order brides. For years her life revolved around Brown’s Textile Mill, her sister Lottie and their friends. Now, as mail-order brides they’d be scattered across the country, ready to start a new life. The only problem was, Leora had no idea what that life looked like, nor did she have any idea who she was without the familiar faces she loved so much.

Pastor Theron Drake needed a wife, and the crazy folks in his congregation whole-heartedly agreed. So much so, they thought they should have as much access to the new Mrs. Drake as he did! They volunteered her for everything they could think of and made her the director of the annual Christmas Play. Throw in the town bully/busybody who’d rather have her own choice of a Mrs. Drake, and you have a mail-order bride that doesn’t know if she’s coming or going.

Will Theron and Leora’s new marriage survive the onslaught of his over-zealous parishioners? Or will she crack under the pressure, turn tail and run? Find out in this hilarious romp how two people are forced to discover their true strengths and weaknesses.

 Excerpt:

Theron watched Mrs. Rutherford’s face contort before settling on a pinched expression. “Very well, I suppose he deserves that. At least he listens to us, unlike the last preacher we had in this town.”

Theron’s eyebrows rose at that. “What happened to him? I thought he simply took another position.”

“None of your concern,” Mrs. Rutherford huffed. She walked over to the table, turned and stared at Leora. “Stand up, girl.”

Leora stared at her in shock, and not a little indignation. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you hard of hearing? I said, stand up.”

Theron rolled his eyes. “Perhaps if you said ‘please’?”

Mrs. Rutherford turned to him, lips pressed into a firm line. But before she could say anything, Leora stood. She turned back to her. “Now, let’s have a look at you.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the table. The other two women joined her and the three walked a circle around Leora as if inspecting a horse.

Theron stood. “Enough of this nonsense. Mrs. Rutherford, is this really necessary? Who I choose as a bride is my business.”

“And who we wind up with as a pastor’s wife is ours. She’ll be involved in the workings of this town and I want to make sure she’s up to the task. Especially since you think poor Prudence isn’t.”

“And what if she’s not?” he asked, his voice laced with challenge. “Are you going to insist I sent her back after we’re married?”

“Of course not!” Mrs. Rutherford snapped. “If I had my way, we’d test her before you got married!

“Oh, for the love of…” Lord, help me keep my tongue, he silently prayed. “Miss Mitchell will be fine. Now if you’ll excuse us, she’s had a long journey and is very tired. And hungry.”

“But we wish to speak to you on another matter,” she declared, as if another’s basic needs were expected to bow to her agenda.

“What other matter?”

“We’ll tell you after that woman has gone upstairs.”

“That woman, as you call her, is my betrothed and she has a name. Leora Mitchell. Kindly use it.” It was all he could do to be civil at this point.

Leora watched in fascination as Mrs. Pleet got up from the table and hurried to where she stood. “Come along now, dear, let’s get you upstairs so you can rest. You do look tired. And I’ll bring you up dessert – I have a lovely cherry pie …” She grabbed Leora’s hand and ushered her from the room as fast as her chubby legs could go.

Theron’s hands balled into fists and he had to force himself to sit. “Now, Mrs. Rutherford, what’s this so-called matter that needs to be discussed?”

 

21934_1283408600039_5692913_nAuthor Bio

A consistent Top 100 lists bestseller, Kit Morgan, aka Geralyn Beauchamp, has been writing for fun all of her life. When writing as Geralyn Beauchamp, her books are epic, adventurous, romantic fantasy at its best. When writing as Kit Morgan they are whimsical, fun, inspirational sweet and clean stories that depict a strong sense of family and community. ‘His Prairie Princess’ is the first of the Prairie Brides books and the first in the series of a long line of stories about Clear Creek, Oregon. One of the whackiest little towns in the old west! Get to know the townsfolk in Clear Creek and come sit a spell!

 

 

An Interview with Cat Johnson

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MidnightWranglerBanner copy (1)Tell us about your current series, Midnight Cowboys.

Midnight Cowboys is a spinoff of my three-book Oklahoma Nights series. They’re both set in Oklahoma and the side characters cross over from one series to the next. Every book is standalone, but readers get to revisit the couples they met in previous books.

What is your favorite part of writing?

Working in my pajamas. J Actually, working from home is more than that. If I’m wide awake at 3:30 am I’ll get up and write. If I’m tired at 3 pm, I can lie down and nap. I’m not sure if that makes me more productive or less, it could be either depending on the day, but I do love having the freedom.

Where do you get the ideas for your stories?

Many of my books are inspired by real life—people, places, current events. That’s the beauty of writing contemporary stories. Everything and anything can serve as inspiration.

What inspired your latest Midnight Cowboys release, Midnight Wrangler?

I met a cowboy who was about my age, maybe a tad older, at the Professional Bull Riders Finals in Las Vegas two years ago who was named Rohn. I decided then and there I was going to write an older cowboy hero named Rohn.

Please tell my readers a little bit more about Midnight Wrangler.

Although the real life Rohn is very happily married, I needed to make my fictional hero single—actually widowed—so I could write him a love story. I decided to make it a second chances themed romance. I reunited Rohn with his first love from when he was eighteen, Bonnie. She’s the one who got away. Bonnie broke his heart a quarter of a century ago, but now she’s back in town and it’s apparent the chemistry is still there between them. Unfortunately, there’s also a big secret standing between them too . . .

What genre is Midnight Wrangler, and is that the only genre you write in?

Midnight Wrangler is a contemporary, small town romance, which is basically what I stick to writing. My books tend to feature hot alpha male heroes, but sometimes they’re wearing combat boots (in my military romances) and sometimes they’re wearing cowboy boots (for my western romances). Apparently I have a fetish for men in boots.

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

I will be wrapping up the Midnight Cowboys series with Midnight Heat, on preorder now for a February 23, 2016 release. In that story readers will get to see Rohn and Bonnie, and Tyler and Janie from the first two books in the series, but Justin is the hero in the hot seat in Midnight Heat, and there’s a major twist I’m throwing in that will affect all the characters.

What’s next for you?

I recently traveled to Oklahoma to visit the real life locations I write about in my two series set there and I fell in love with the small town and the people. It was an eye opening trip and though I’m not making any promises, I’m thinking about a new series set in the area, but instead of featuring the rodeo, ranching and farming aspects of the region, I’d love to explore the oil industry, which is a huge part of the history and the economy of Oklahoma. And the young, hard-bodied oil workers I got a glimpse of were pretty hot too! So stay tuned . . .

BLURB:

Midnight Wrangler (Midnight Cowboys) by Cat Johnson

One Lonely Widower…

Rohn Lerner is a successful Oklahoma rancher. He’s old enough to know what he likes, and still young enough to enjoy it. But losing his wife five years ago wore him thin. He’s not ready to date, but he needs someone to share a meal with as badly as someone to warm his bed.

One Woman with a Secret…

 Bonnie Martin fled her Oklahoma home years ago, leaving behind her abusive father, and Rohn, the lost love she never forgot. Now she’s back to settle her father’s estate, but she has no idea that she’s about to bump into Rohn or that they’ll fall for each other all over again.

One Night That Changes Everything… 

MIDNIGHT WRANGLER EXCERPT

“Okay, you boys about done here?”

Three sets of eyes turned to Rohn.

“Why?” Justin asked.

“Because it’s getting late and I figure you’d want to get going home.”

Tyler looked a little too interested. “I don’t have to be anywhere. In fact, I think we should run out, pick up some beer and pizzas, watch a movie and break in your new room.”

He’d never once considered they’d want to stay. Rohn’s expression must have reflected that thought.

Tyler broke out in a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m teasing you.”

“Jeez, did you see the look on his face. He really thought we were fixin’ to stay.” Colton shook his head.

Justin moved a step closer and slapped Rohn on the back. “We’re going. Don’t worry.”

“I didn’t mean you had to—” Crap, he didn’t want them to think he wanted them to go, but he sure as hell didn’t want them to stay.

“Rohn, we know you didn’t do all this for yourself.” Justin grinned. “When a man goes to this kind of trouble, it’s got to be for a woman, and I figure the way you keep checking that there clock and your cell phone, that you’re expecting her any minute.”

“I—”

Justin held up one hand to stop Rohn’s protest. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Say hi to Miss Bonnie for us.” Colton grinned as he headed out the door with Justin directly behind him.

Rohn could try to deny it, but he knew it was pointless. Justin and Colton had already left and there was no denying what he had planned anyway. He let his chin drop and blew out a breath. Finally, he’d gathered his composure enough to look back and meet Tyler’s gaze.

Tyler was sporting a wide grin as he strode across the room toward Rohn. He handed Rohn the remote control for the television and then leaned in closer. “You need any condoms?”

Good Lord, that was the last thing he’d expected to hear from this kid. “No, thanks. I’m good.” He somehow managed to keep his voice steady so as to not let the horror he felt over this conversation show.

“A’ight. ’Cause you know, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Rohn nodded, doing his best to keep a straight face while being torn between amusement and embarrassment that this kid, nearly half his age, was lecturing him.

Midnight Wrangler Buy Links:

 Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1GHZqQm

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1GHZsHZ

iBooks: http://apple.co/1GHZQpF

Google Play: http://bit.ly/1SccmyI

Kensington: http://bit.ly/1GHZRKc

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1GHZL5A

antor Audio: http://bit.ly/1GHZYph

More Info: http://catjohnson.net/series/midnight-cowboys/midnight-wrangler/

Cat Johnson Author Pic Cat Johnson Bio:

A top ten New York Times and seven time USA Today bestselling contemporary romance author, Cat Johnson is known for her creative marketing practices. Cat has sponsored bull-riding cowboys, promoted romance using bologna, and owns a collection of cowboy boots and camouflage for book signings. A fair number of her research consultants wear combat or cowboy boots for a living. Sign up for new release and sale alerts at http://catjohnson.net/news.

 Cat Johnson Author Links:

Author Site: http://CatJohnson.net

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorcatjohnson

Twitter: http://Twitter.com/cat_johnson

Instagram: https://instagram.com/cat_johnson66/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/catjohnson1/

Rafflecopter Giveaway Ebook Copy of Midnight Cowboy

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Excerpt from L.A. Sartor

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Final DIGITAL copyThank you, Cindy, for hosting me on your blog today.  I’m thrilled to be a guest.

My new release this month, Believe In Me This Christmas Morn is the third book in the Star Light ~ Star Bright series. I didn’t start book one, Be Mine This Christmas Night, with the intent of writing a series, but after enough people said I should…I did. And honestly, it’s been darn successful. Yes, I’m blowing my horn here, but the first two books went #1 on Amazon making me a bestselling author.  That is a dream come true.

There are hazards in writing a series. Oh, let me digress for a moment, but I gotta tell you, Cindy is the queen of series, I wish I had a 10th of her stamina!  Any way, some of the hazards are keeping track of what has happened in prior books, and keeping your characters consistent. Simple things like hair and eye color, height and the not so simple things like mannerisms, traits, favorite words. And then remember to repeat them for the right character!

To handle this most authors create s series bibles but I didn’t do so until I was already into writing the second book, Forever Yours This New Year’s Night, because as I said above, I had no intention of creating a series. Even after compiling the bible, I realized I was missing important things and had reread Be Mine, and then put them into Forever Yours.

I also mentioned above that the one reason I knew I had to write this series was because readers got in touch with me, joining  my mailing list and telling me they wanted more of Boulder, Colorado and the characters I’d created, as well as telling me that they  wanted Mitch—who is the antagonist—to find happiness. I was stymied at first because I didn’t want his book to be number two because not enough “story” time  would have passed for it to work out the way I felt it needed to. Thus his story had to be the third in the series.

Here is the blurb:

It’s the week before Christmas and Belle Grantham has won the best gift ever. A website makeover she’s certain will save her struggling literacy nonprofit.

Mitchell Thomas is giving Belle what she needs, a new website to maximize potential donations. In return, he’s getting the Christmas present he so badly wants, an escape from snowy Boulder, Colorado, and haunting memories.

Their wishes are threatened after Belle meets with a donor and discovers his financial rescue comes with unwanted strings…and a ticking clock.

As Mitch and Belle work side by side against time, Mitch is sure that Texas-bred Belle, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, will have little in common with him, who barely owned a spoon until college.

Will Belle believe in him after being dealt a soul-shattering complication?

And here is an excerpt to whet your appetite:

The loud rap on the front door startled her even though she was waiting for it. Belle pulled the door open wide to find Mitchell covered in snow, grasping a travel mug she hoped held coffee. Black, or with cream and sugar…none of that mattered, only that he brought coffee.

And that he was here.

He handed her the mug and stepped backward to shake off his dark woolen hat.

“Where’d you get all that snow?” It was still snowing, but not enough to cover the shoulders of his coat and hat with as much as was piled on at the moment in the short distance from car to cabin.

He pointed upward at the slope of the entryway overhang. She stepped out and looked up. The roof was metal and now practically clear of the white stuff.

“You mean…”

He didn’t seem mad, just amused by the situation. That was nice.

Most of the men Belle knew wouldn’t have been so accepting of the situation, and somehow it would have been her fault that it happened.

“Yup, so give me a moment to brush off. Then if you’re ready, we can head to the office.”

Belle sipped from her mug as she watched Mitch dust off his dark blue parka and pull his hat back on.

“Let me get my satchel and we’re off. Thanks for the coffee. You have no idea how much that means.”

“Oh, but I do. I’m a bit of an addict myself. I remembered Maisie said you were also.”

She couldn’t believe he’d remembered and been so considerate. Belle shouldered her satchel and locked the door behind her.

“Watch your step. It’s icy after we trampled it down last night. When we get back, I’ll look for a snow shovel and see about cutting a path.”

Just as he finished his warning, Belle slipped and flailed her arms to catch herself. The mug went flying into a snow bank. The dismay on Mitchell’s face was so funny that instead of being angry with herself over her clumsiness, she couldn’t hold back the laughter.

“Your face is priceless.”

“Only because now you’re going to want to drink mine,” he said with a smile.

“Nope, I’m not leaving a great mug of coffee to freeze in the snow.” She handed him her satchel and pushed her way through the knee high snow to the divot in the whiteness that showed her where the mug landed, then sunk. Belle fished around for a second and with a great show of triumph held it high. “Good thing this mug self-seals, so your coffee is safe from plunder.”

 

If you like Mitch’s book and any others I’ve written, please leave a review on Amazon. I can’t tell how important reviews are to an author’s success.  YOU make it happen.

 

I hope you all have a Peaceful and Merry Christmas, and if Christmas isn’t your holiday, may yours be filled with the magic of its celebration.

Warmest Regards,

L.A. Sartor

Buy Links:

Believe in Me This Christmas Morn  (Book Three, just released)

Be Mine This Christmas Night (Book One)

Forever Yours This New Year’s Night  (Book Two)

Best mask with layers7-1bBio:

L.A. Sartor began telling stories around the age of 4 when her mother, at L.A.’s insistence, wrote them down and L.A. illustrated them. As an adult she writes suspense and action adventure novels with a dash of romance, and screenplays—she’s had a contracted adaptation!  She lives in Colorado with her husband whom she met on a blind date.  L.A. loves to travel and thinks life is an adventure and we should embrace the journey.

Titles published:

Dare to Believe (2012)

Stone of Heaven (May 2013) Carswell Adventure Series Book One

Be Mine This Christmas Night (Holiday 2013)  Star light ~ Star Bright Series Book One

Forever Yours This New Year’s Night (Holiday 2014)  Star light ~ Star Bright Series Book Two

Viking Gold (July 2015) Carswell Adventure Series Book Two

Believe in Me This Christmas Morn (Holiday 2015)  Star Light ~ Star Bright Series Book Three

The Prince of Granola (A romantic comedy coming 2016)

Find L.A.:

Blog

Website

FB

Twitter

Amazon Author Page

Pinterest

Hannah: Bride of Iowa by P. A. Estelle

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HannahSamuel Morrison, a farmer from Iowa, is in need of a wife and a mother for Lizzie, his three-year old daughter.  He reads an article from Massachusetts advertising mail order brides. He writes to the agency stating he’s looking for a partner who will work by his side and, hopefully, come to care for him and be a loving mother to Lizzie.

Hannah Brown responds to his letter.  Though she doesn’t say too much about herself, Samuel decides to take a chance and asks her to come to Iowa.

This woman is everything he wants in a wife and more — or so he thinks.  Hannah has a secret that, if revealed, could devastate their future.

If Hannah tells Samuel, would he send her away?  She could lose all she’s come to cherish with Samuel and Lizzie.  Is Hannah willing to take that chance?

Excerpt

They were halfway home when two riders approached. Maddie’s eyes went wide when, out of nowhere, a rifle appeared on Samuel’s lap. “Just being cautious,” he muttered.

The two men pulled their horses up short when they reached the wagon. “Morrison,” said the rider who looked oldest. His hat sat low on his head covering his eyes, giving Maddie an uneasy feeling.

“Carl.” Samuel’s voice was low. “How’s your pa?”

“Sits in his chair all day not doing a dang thing. Don’t eat much and don’t talk, which is fine with me.”

“Who’s this purty thing you got there, Morrison?” Maddie shivered at the sight of the younger rider. His hair was long and dirty and stuck to the side of his face. He spit a stream of tobacco, a bit stayed behind to make its way down his chin. When he smiled, rotten teeth filled his mouth.

Samuel stiffened, saying nothing to the man. The puppy threw his head back and began to cry and yelp. “I don’t like being not talked to, Morrison, like I’m some sort of white trash. Maybe you couldn’t hear me none cause of this here mutt.” He drew a gun from his holster. “And maybe I should take care of it so you could hear me.”

In a flash, Samuel had the rifle cocked and trained on the man’s heart.

“No!” Lizzy cried, turning to try to get into the back of the wagon. Maddie grabbed her and struggled to hold the screaming little girl on her lap while watching Samuel. She had no doubt he’d kill the man without blinking an eye if he needed to.

“Put your gun away, Chad,” the other rider growled, disgust evident in his tone. “Sometimes you ain’t got no sense at all.”

“There be two of us,” Chad argued loudly.

“I said, put it away.” Carl’s tone was dangerous and Chad did as he was told.

http://www.amazon.com/Hannah-Bride-Iowa-American-Order-ebook/dp/B017HLRB5Q

 

 

 

 

An Interview with Uvi Poznansky

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Christmas-passion vInterview with

Uvi Poznansky

Author of

My Own Voice, The White Piano, and

The Music of Us

Included in the boxed set A Touch of Passion

What inspired you to write the series, Still Life with Memories?

Natasha, the renowned pianist suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s in my book Apart from Love (volume I and II of the series, woven together) kept coming back to haunt me. Her character was not an easy one to develop. The primary challenge is that she has no voice. She is utterly silent, which makes her son Ben hope—at first—that she can be reached, that he can ‘save’ her.

“There is no way to tell if she has heard me. Her gaze is fixed, as steadily as before, on the same small pane of glass, through which the sun is blazing; which makes it hard to figure out what she sees out there.

I push forward, aiming to view it, somehow, from her angle, which at first, is too hard to imagine:

In my mind I try, I see a map, the entire map of her travels around the world. A whole history. It has been folded over and again, collapsed like a thin tissue, into a square; which is suspended there—right in front of her—a tiny, obscure dot on that window.

And inside that dot, the path of her journey crisscrosses itself in intricate patterns, stacked in so many papery layers. And the names of the places, in which she performed back then, in the past—London, Paris, Jerusalem, San Petersburg, New York, Tokyo—have become scrambled, illegible even, because by now, she can no longer look past that thing, that dot. She cannot see out of herself.

She is, I suppose, confined.”

Now here comes my new novel, The Music of Us. It is volume III in the series, and it is included in the boxed set A Touch of Passion. This story gives voice to her. It takes Natasha to an innocent time, when she was sixteen, a rising star. Here is Lenny, pining for her:

Love was in the air. I sensed it all around me. A record was spinning around on the gramophone, releasing one touching note after another, making me ache with desire.

Dark or light, deep in this heart of mine

There’s a crazy beat pounding ‘cause oh, just for you I pine

And its agony won’t be through

Till you let me give myself, give all of me to you

I pine for you, dark or light

At the far end, the elevator doors opened. I thought of dashing over there to surprise Natasha. Instead I ended up taking a step back, because out came her Mama.

Mrs. Horowitz locked eyes with me at once, and it took all my concentration not to take a step back.

She clomped in my direction, then plonked herself down on the oversized couch that stood on one side of the elegant rug. Waving her hand at me in a commanding gesture, she pointed at the matching couch that stood on the opposite side.

“You,” she said. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

Old open book with magic light and falling stars on wooden table

Old open book with magic light and falling stars on wooden table

Any hobbies or interests that you enjoy in your spare time?

In addition to being an author and a poet I am an artist. For me, the visual aspects of my craft go hand-in-hand with the literary aspects. I paint with my pen and write with my paintbrush, which means that when I write, I strive to describe the scene, as seen through my character’s eyes, as vividly as I now how, and when I paint, there is always a story revealing itself on my canvas.

My art includes ceramic and bronze sculptures, paper engineering projects, watercolors, oil paintings, and mixed media. To see it go to my art site or to my blog. It is the heart of my drive to reach out to my readers and listeners. A post may include a poem, an excerpt from one of my books, the back story of what inspired a particular passage, a few art pieces by masters from different time period that illustrated to me different points of views about a particular moment of history, which in turn enriched my story about it. Please check out my blog, and come back often, there is something new every day!

Do you see yourself in any of your characters, or do any of them have traits you wish you had?

In many ways I feel a kinship with Natasha: like me she’s idealistic and strives for perfection, setting impossible goals for herself.

This is just the opposite of another character in my books.  At first I decided to model Anita, the girl in the center of  a firestorm of passion in My Own Voice (volume I) and The White Piano (volume II) as the-opposite-of-me. Her use of language would be atrocious. She talks in sentences laden with ‘like’ and the dreaded double-negatives. Anita would become a bold and spontaneous spirit, anything but repressed. She would be promiscuous. Her voice would be shockingly direct.

“In my defense I have this to say: When men notice me, when the lusty glint appears in their eyes, which betrays how, in their heads, they’re stripping me naked—it’s me they accuse of being indecent.

Problem is, men notice me all the time.

How can a girl like me ever claim to be innocent? Even if I haven’t done nothing wrong, I’m already soiled, simply because of their dirty thoughts.”

I do not even know how it happened, but once Anita started talking in my mind—which she did for nearly a year—I started to like her more and more. I asked myself, how would she play against Ben, who is a complex character, hesitant, highly sophisticated? How would she play against Lenny, a would-be author who is so proud of his refined expressions, when her background is so different from his? How would she measure up against his ex-wife, Natasha, the renowned pianist suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s?

Do you have any tips for new writers?

My best advice to develop your writing–besides reading a lot–is this: read your story aloud in front of a live audience. Listen not only to their comments and suggestions, but more importantly–to their breathing pattern while the story is being read. Are they holding their breath at the right moment? Do they burst out laughing, or wipe a tear when you intended? If not, you must go back to the drawing board and adjust your sentences.

Buy Links:

The Music of Us Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo, print (audio coming soon)

Apart from Love Kindle, Nook Apple, Kobo, print audio

Rise to Power Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo print audio

A Peek at Bathsheba  Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo print audio

The Edge of Revolt Kindle, Nook, Apple, Kobo print

A Touch of Passion

Author Links:

Blog

Facebook author page

Amazon author page

Goodreads author page

pInterest

@UviPoznansky

An Interview with Desiree Holt

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Line of Scrimmage Cover Art (1)How did you get started writing?

I always had the urge to write. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have stories floating around in my head. I scribbled stories in notebooks for as long as I can remember but the time just never seemed to be right for me to take a chance. But when I retired, I had both the time and the burning desire as well as the encouragement of my late husband. No barriers, no obstacles, and a brand new computer. And I was off.

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

I write in all the subgenres that appeal to me—contemporary, erotic, paranormal, suspense, even thriller. That’s the nice thing about writing romance. You can really spread your wings.

Tell us about your current series.

I am such an obsessed football fan. From the time I read a book on how to watch a football game I couldn’t get enough of watching it. My son finally said to me, So where are the football stories? We’ve read a lot about coaches and their teams and people involved with the high school teams. I decided to take a championship team and see where they were fifteen years later. Were they still in football? Had they left? Why? Had they ever played after high school? If not why not? So that was the genesis for the Game On series.

What is your least favorite part of writing?

Writing the first chapter. I always want one that will hook the reader, make her hungry for the rest of the book. I want to provide information but not overload them with backstory. Crafting the first chapter, providing a hook and establishing my hero/heroine is always the hardest thing for me.

Do you have a view in your writing space?  What does your space look like?

I do have a view. My office is in the family room and from where my desk is I can look into all the other rooms, the wide living room part and out the screened patio to the preserve beyond. It’s a beautiful view and makes me feel good just to look at it.

I treated myself recently to a gorgeous writing desk to work on and wall units for my books and materials. I also have a little sitting area that is usually occupied by my cats, who don’t seem to understand that they have to earn their keep.

How far do you plan ahead?

I have books on my spreadsheet well into 2017. I never seem to run out of ideas. Plus, it seems my single titles have mostly turned into series by request and when you are doing a series you have to plan far ahead so you can space out your books. Additionally, I run several series at one time. Check with me in five years. I’ll still be planning and writing!

Please tell my readers a little bit about your book.

All my books are character-driven, so of course the story is built around Erin and Jake. He was a star in high school and college and now in the NFL. She hates football players like poison, even though her best friend’s brother is one. She can’t believe she allowed herself a hot one night stand with him, but does her best to scrub it from her mind. He feels football defines him and when he suffers what could be a career-ending injury, he’s terrified of his future. He needs a helper; she needs a job but being Jake Russell’s keeper wasn’t what she had in mind. If only the chemistry between them didn’t light up the place like the Fourth of July. If only he didn’t want to prove to her that all football players aren’t trash. To complicate matters further, Jake has a secret that defines his life. Everything hinges on how well he heals and what the future holds-for both of them.

Did you have several manuscripts finished before you sold?

No, just one, and yes, I did keep submitting it myself. It was at a time when agents really controlled the business and getting one to take me on was impossible. But the moment I submitted I began writing the next one and the next. Good thing, to, because I got 137 rejections for the first one and several published before that one ever got polished up and contracted.

Do you have any rejection stories to share?

This is my favorite. I cold-submitted to a major romance publisher, a romantic suspense that I loved. It got all the way up to the senior editor of the line, and she turned it down. She said in one situation the hero was non-heroic because of the arrangements he made to protect the heroine. Ultimately another publisher contracted it, RT Book Reviews gave it 4.5 stars and said that particular scene showed how heroic the hero was. Goes to show, right?

Will you share some encouraging words for authors still struggling for that first contract?

Do not ever give up. Today more than ever there are expanding opportunities for authors. Small presses and self-pub have given birth to many success stories. Be diligent. But learn your craft and never stop learning. If self-pubbing get a really good editor. If with a house, listen to what their editor says. Her job is to make your book a hit. Connect with a critique group. They will often be able to direct you toward opportunities. Write in your own voice, don’t try to copy someone else’s. Yours will be the one that shines. And write every day, even if it’s only one page. The opportunities are out there

Desiree HoltDesiree’s Bio

Desiree Holt has produced more than two hundred titles in nearly every subgenre of romance fiction. She is a winner of the EPIC E-Book Award, an Authors after Dark Author of the Year and of the Holt Medallion. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The London Daily Mail and numerous other national and international publications. She enjoys football and reading and her three cats, who are her constant writing companions.

“Get out the ice water and fan…Desiree Holt delivers smoking hot alpha heroes and red hot romances.” Lea Franczak, USA Today Happy Ever After blog

Learn more about her and read her novels here:

www.desireeholt.com

www.desiremeonly.com

www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor

www.facebook.com/desireeholt

Twitter @desireeholt

Pinterest: desiree02holt

Google: www.desiree02holt

LinkedIn: www.LinkedIn.com/desiree01holt

Line of Scrimmage blurb and Buy Link

Sometimes it’s not about winning…

One bad tackle. That’s all it took to put wide receiver Jake Russell in a cast for the rest of the NFL season. From being a high school all-star to getting drafted by the Austin Mustangs, football has been Jake’s life for as long as he can remember. It’s what defines him—because he has a secret he never shares. But now that he’s laid up in bed with a nurse displaying a lot of distracting bedside manners, he’s discovering life on the sidelines might have its perks. . .

One last paycheck. That’s all Erin Bass has left to her name when the resort she works at shuts down. Desperate, she agrees to be a caregiver to hardass jock Jake Russell, who also happens to be a memorable one-night stand. Before long, caring leads to daring new ways to catch up in bed, especially with Jake still in a cast. But with football on the sidelines, this time the game is serious. . .

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/book.aspx/31921

 Line of Scrimmage Excerpt

Ivy felt sick to her stomach. Football was Jake’s life. Since the two of them had moved to Granite Falls with their mom to get a fresh start, it was the only thing that had mattered to him. The thing he used to validate himself. No one knew their dreadful family history or how her brother had set himself up as the protector of her and their mother. No matter how many times she told him what an incredible person he was, how he’d been her rock and protector from the time she was a little girl, he never believed her. Nothing mattered to him except football. It gave him the first sense of self-worth he’d ever known, and he clung to it like a life preserver.

What would happen to him if he lost all that?

She hadn’t been much for praying for a very long time. As a child, it hadn’t helped, and she’d long ago gotten out of the habit. But now, as they rode silently through the streets of Austin, she prayed hard, afraid to even think about the worst-case scenario.

She was so lost in thought she didn’t realize they’d reached the hospital until the car came to a stop. DiMarco was speaking softly on his cell phone but he disconnected when she climbed out.

“I’ll take you right up to where he is,” he told her. “They’ve already x-rayed him, and the orthopedic surgeon will meet us in emergency.”

Ivy wasn’t sure if she was impressed by the number of Mustangs people at the hospital or worried about what it might mean. Jake was a valuable commodity to them, so of course they’d pull out all the stops. That’s all it was, right?

Two men in Mustangs polo shirts and khakis stood outside one of the rooms in Emergency. Ivy tried not to read anything into their solemn expressions, but the fear she’d been swallowing back surged through her again.

Jake lay on a hospital bed, his face nearly as white as the sheets draped over his lower body. One leg was exposed, wrapped in an inflatable cast. His left arm extended out from his body, strapped to a board with an IV shunt in his vein. His eyes were closed and lines of pain etched his face.

“Miss Russell?” A tall, thin man in scrubs and a white jacket stepped toward her. “Dr. Moline. I’m the orthopedist called in for your brother.”

“Hello.” She shook his hand. “How is Jake?”

Moline’s face gave nothing away as he answered her. “He’s okay for now. I gave him something for the pain so he’s not in a lot of discomfort.”

She gripped her hands together so tightly she nearly shut off the blood supply. “How bad is it?”

“I won’t lie to you. It’s not good. We need to get him up to surgery right away.”

“I don’t know what on earth Jake will do if he can’t play again,” Ivy said. “Football is his life.”

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Lilly: Bride of Illinois by Linda Hubalek

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Lilly-Bride-of-IllinoisBlurb

A clean, sweet historical romance set in 1890. Lilly Lind was forced to emigrate from Sweden two years ago, due to circumstances beyond her control. She finds a job as a garment maker in the Brown Textile Mill in Lawrence, Massachusetts, finally feeling as though she is settling in her new country. Then a suspicious fire burns the mill, making Lilly seek another way to survive. She answers a mail–order bride ad in the Grooms’ Gazette and sets off for Chicago, believing she will be a business owner’s wife.

Kansas rancher Seth Reagan travels to the Union Stockyards in Chicago to attend the 1890 American Fat Stock Show, the American Horse Show, and to purchase horseflesh to augment his herd. When arriving at the train station, he overhears a conversation between a young woman and a shady–looking man. Seth becomes concerned for the mail–order bride who is whisked away to a saloon, not to her new husband’s home.

When Seth goes to the saloon to check on the young woman, he finds her in trouble and offers to help her escape. While buying horses and arranging their return travel to Kansas, Seth realizes he would like to bring Lilly home with him, too, but she is still being hunted by the saloon owner’s thugs.

Lilly’s good fortune in meeting Seth makes her want to start a life with this man, but he came to Illinois for horses, not a bride. Would he want her after he learns of her secrets?

Please go to the American Mail-Order Bride Series website for the complete list of all fifty books available for your reading enjoyment.

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Excerpt

And now it was time for them to go to bed. They might be married, but they weren’t going to consummate it, so…it was making them both nervous and shy all of a sudden.

“Ah, thanks to you buying me a new night gown yesterday, you can have your night shirt back,” Lilly shyly said, still sitting at the table.

“True, but it’s a little colder on the floor so I’ll keep my pants on,” Seth drummed his fingers on the table, not comfortable to meet Lilly’s eyes.

“Seth, why would you sleep on the floor? We’re married now, even though we don’t plan to. …you know… Seth’s eyes widened and looked at Lilly’s red face. He might be thinking about it, but she almost said it out loud.

“Lilly you were hurt again today, I think you need to have the bed to yourself tonight,” Seth rushed through the words.

“Well, okay.” Lilly stood up, and Seth thought she was ready to go to bed.

“I’ll go downstairs then to give you some privacy so you can get into bed,” Seth said standing up, ready to run out the door.

“I could use your help before you go downstairs,” Lilly stopped Seth just as he was about to turn the doorknob.

“With what?”

“Could you please take my hair pins out, brush my hair and braid it? It’s hard to raise my right arm to do it,” she said sweetly. Seth blew out the air he was holding, worried it could have been more than brushing her hair.

“Sure, I’d be glad to help you,” he turned thinking she’d be seated in a chair by the table, but she sat on the far side of the bed with her back turned to him instead. How’d she move so fast to get on the bed?

“Here’s my brush,” Lilly looked over her shoulder at him. “Please put the hair pins on my handkerchief beside me so I can pick them up without dropping any.” Oh, boy. He was going to have to crawl in bed and sit behind her to reach her hair.

Seth, toed off his boots and sat on the bed, but she was still out of reach.

“Wait, I’ll move up a bit so you can sit behind me,” and Seth watched her little behind scoot on the bed.

“You know, I didn’t have any sisters, so I don’t know how to do this…so maybe you can still do it yourself?”

“Seth, I bet you’ve braided rawhide, twine and many other things. It’s not hard,” she glanced over her shoulder at him. She turned back around, but not before he saw her sweet turned–up lips.

Okay, he could do this. Seth moved to sit behind her, then studied her hair. Where’s the best place to start pulling pins?

He gingerly pulled a hairpin out of the bottom of her top clump of curls, trying to do so by only using the tips of his thumb and finger. His big fingers caught some of her hair at the same time and he winced. “Oh, sorry.”

“My hair won’t break off, Seth. Pull the pins out, and then run your fingers through my hair to find any you missed.”

One by one, Seth pulled the pins then gingerly placed his fingers at the base of her neck and ran his fingers up her scalp and out through the length of her waist–long hair, having to pull out sideways because he was so close behind her.

“Pins all out? Here’s the brush to smooth out any tangles. I usually do a hundred strokes every night.”

Seth was sure the first fifteen strokes through Lilly’s hair hurt, but she didn’t say anything. He found a rhythm, enjoying the silky golden strands running across his fingers as he brushed out to the tips of her hair. He lifted her hair to his nose to smell it. It smelled like the Blue Lilies Perfume he gave her, maybe along with a little “cattle” scent from being in the exhibit hall.

Lilly kept quiet, her eyes closed, looking like she was enjoying him brushing her hair as much as he was enjoying doing it for her. What would it be like to do this every night for my wife?

When he got done with the one hundred strokes, he set the brush aside, divided Lilly’s hair in thirds, and slowly braided it. She held a blue ribbon—apparently her favorite color, too—in her hand for him to tie the end of her braid.

“Okay, I’m done, so I’ll go now,” Seth said as he climbed off the bed and reached for his boots.

“Thank you, Seth. It felt so good to have my hair brushed out. Now could you help me out of my clothes?”

“What?!” Good grief, did he just squawk like a fourteen year old whose voice was starting to change?

“I need help out of my clothes and then you can wrap my ribs,” Lilly said as she moved off the bed to stand in front of him.

What did she learn while being in the Emporium? How to seduce a man? Could he do this without looking? But feeling without seeing might heighten his senses instead.

“I unbuttoned my shirtwaist, but I need you to carefully pull it off my shoulders and down my arms.”

Lilly turned away from him, and he slowly slid the shirtwaist off her arms, feeling her bare shoulders in the process. She didn’t have on a corset, or corset cover. She only had on her chemise under her shirtwaist.

“You need your long underwear on,” so I don’t see your bare skin.

“Don’t have any, but I suppose I should buy some for our trip home.”

“Yes, and boots, too. Your shoes are about worn through. We’ll go shopping tomorrow.” Think of a shopping list instead, to get your mind off her skin!

“Please unbutton my side seam on the left side of my skirt and pull it, and my two petticoats, off.”

“Oh no, I shouldn’t be doing that…” I bet my face is so red, I look sunburned.

“I’m afraid you can’t get them down, so you’ll have to pull them up over my head.”

Seth sighed. Just do it. The poor lady’s ribs hurt.

It took a couple of minutes to get everything unbuttoned, separated and up over her head after she slowly raised her arms. Then she stood there in her chemise and drawers, looking at him…waiting for…what?

“How about I slip your nightgown over your…underwear…so you stay warmer tonight?”

“I want to pull up my chemise so we can…”

“Nope, we are not doing anything, so lift up your arms as much as you can again because your nightgown is going on now.”

He might have pulled the gown over her head maybe a little too hard and fast, but it was done and he had his hand on the doorknob again.

“I meant so you could wrap my ribs…”

“Oh.” Now Seth was embarrassed because he’d been thinking of something else besides her injured side.

“And Seth?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have a goodnight kiss?”

Lilly laughed so hard she snorted when he looked back incredulously at her. The little tease. But after the little kiss they exchanged at their marriage ceremony today, he wouldn’t mind kissing her again.

Amazon Link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B017GOTX46/butterfield0e-20

Linda_HubalekAbout the Author

Linda Hubalek grew up on the Kansas prairie, always wanting to be a farmer like her parents and ancestors. After earning a college degree in Agriculture, marriage took Linda away from Kansas as her husband worked in engineering jobs in several states.

Meanwhile, Linda wrote historical fiction books about pioneer women who homesteaded in Kansas between 1854 to the early 1900s, especially her Swedish immigrant ancestors.

Linda Hubalek and her husband eventually moved back home to Kansas, where they raised American buffalo (bison) for a dozen years.

Linda is currently writing clean, sweet historical western romances set in the 1800s.

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