Posted by Leslie P Garcia on September 1, 2014
Today is a Return to Rio first–we’ve done spotlights and interviews, but today, author Bethany-Kris kindly agreed to share a guest blog post with us! I’m really happy about that, because after my first week at school with 28 first graders I needed a mental break! Even better, Bethany-Kris shines the light on inspiration in her New Adult romance, and shares background, a blurb, and an excerpt that makes me want to keep reading.
I know you’ll enjoy our guest post! Thanks, Bethany-Kris!
How Spray Paint Kisses Started …
Thanks so much for having me on your blog today to talk about my latest release with Evernight Publishing Spray Paint Kisses. A contemporary erotic romance, the story also happens to fall into the category of new adult, considering the ages of the main characters are 22 for the hero Gage, and 21 for the heroine Summer. It isn’t often I write my characters younger, at a point where they’re just beginning to enter adulthood, but sometimes, the story requires it. I like to think these two, while still learning about things like love and life, have a maturity they’ve both earned though the choices and mistakes of their pasts.
I always love to answer the question, “So what made you write this story? What inspired it?” That’s what I’m going to talk a little bit about today before I introduce you to the story itself.
I grew up in a very small town. So small, in fact, that my graduation class only sported 80 or so graduates. These were mostly people I’d went to school with my entire life. Because when you live in a small town, you tend to take notice how small it really is, and sometimes forget about how big the real world actually is until you’re thrust right into the middle of it. My lovely spouse, who is always such a great support system and encouragement to me, also grew up in a small town, one just a short drive away from mine.
Where he grew up is where Spray Paint Kisses begins. I always knew I wanted to write a story based in his hometown, as I know so much about it, and it’s a beautiful place. A quiet, almost retirement community if you want to put it that way, the younger generation has little to do but cause trouble and make a ruckus just to have some fun. (Hey, I was one of those once …)
Unfortunately, it isn’t always innocent. Lately, the town has been plagued by some serious vandalism and things of that nature. And while sitting in my car waiting for my spouse to finish getting what he needed from the store, I noticed a young man with a pretty blonde on his arm. His hoodie was pulled up over his head to hide his face, not to mention it was the middle of summer so why did he need a hoodie anyway, right? Fashion statement, I guess. Don’t question the moods of teenagers.
Nonetheless, that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the black spray paint smeared on his hand, the one holding a cigarette, not the one holding the girl’s at his side hand. Vandalism is illegal, and we can label it whatever we want—a crime, graffiti, or street art. That young man whose name I don’t know, and probably won’t ever, inspired an older version of my hero with spray paint on his hands, a pretty blonde at his side, and a past that wasn’t always on the right side of the law, so to speak.
I do so hope you enjoy the story of Summer and Gage in Spray Paint Kisses.
Spray Paint Kisses by Bethany-Kris
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, New Adult
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Release Date: August 20th, 2014
Length: 26k – Short Story
He’s left his mark everywhere. She’s still trying to find a place to leave hers.
Gage Masselin is a graffiti artist whose life has revolved around his art, and focused entirely on his career. He’s never needed a muse to get his inspiration flowing, so when an unexpected blonde-haired beauty knocks him out of his zone, he knows he’s in trouble.
Summer Davey is just a traveling girl with a gypsy’s soul. The one constant she has is her need to keep moving on. She’s never stayed in one place long enough to plant roots, never mind finding a man with spray paint kissing the tips of his fingers to make her heart beat faster.
She inspires him. He’s the first thing to ever feel like home.
Sometimes the hardest things to find in love and life are the easiest to lose.
“Isn’t that illegal?”
Gage Masselin nearly dropped the aerosol paint can when he heard the feminine voice. Whenever he was in the middle of creating a tag, he was in the zone. There were no sounds but the constant whoosh of the spray paint can’s nozzle and his rhythmic breathing. No distractions took him away from his art.
Turning on his heel, Gage forgot about the black and white bandana he still wore around his lower face as a shield from the paint fumes. The material muffled his surprise as he came face to face with the prettiest damned thing he’d ever seen in his twenty-two years of life.
Long waves of golden hair were tied off to the side in a messy braid, falling over her front. There wasn’t a lick of makeup on her clear peaches and cream complexion. Standing in gladiator style sandals, ripped up jean shorts, and a faded band T-shirt, the girl could have been just about anyone.
Except she couldn’t. Gage’s tiny New Brunswick hometown was a blink and you’d miss it kind of place. Growing up in Plaster Rock gave him the ability to know everyone, even if he didn’t officially live there fulltime anymore. Thing was, people moved away, new people didn’t move there.
Everybody knew everyone else, or they thought they did. Gage didn’t know this girl.
The girl smirked before waving in Gage’s direction. “Your face.”
Instantly, Gage realized what the girl meant. The bandana still covered the lower part of his face, including his mouth. He probably looked like some little hoodrat hiding in the alley, tagging the shit out of the high school library’s wall.
No wonder she thought he was doing something illegal.
Tugging down the bandana so it rested around his throat, Gage offered the girl a shrug in explanation. “Sorry, habit to wear it. I usually don’t have company when I’m painting, so no reason to have my mouth free to chat.”
“You mean an accomplice, right?”
“No, I mean company,” Gage replied with a smile.
“I didn’t realize graffiti had become legal.”
Oh, this girl had balls, or she just liked breaking them. Either way, Gage liked that.
“It’s not. That’s probably why I spent two years in juvenile hall.”
“Wouldn’t be juvie now, though.”
“No,” Gage said. “It’d be the pen. Good thing it’s legal. I’m not looking to spend any more time in a lockup.”
The girl still didn’t look convinced.
“Honest, sweetheart. See …” Gage pointed at the piece of official paper taped to the brick wall. If a cop happened to stop by, all he had to do was refer to that permit. “Gives me the right to be here slumming up this wall with my work. The school commissioned me to do the piece. It’s all on the legal side of things, promise.”
A small hand rested on her jutted out hip. The action caused Gage to let his eyes wander down the expanse of her creamy thighs and wonder if they felt as smooth and silky as they looked. They probably did. He bet she’d taste like salt, skin, and sin.
Shit, how short were those jean shorts of hers, anyway?
Short enough that they made Gage’s mouth a little dry just from staring.
Fucked, that’s what he was, and he didn’t even know her name.
“If you say so,” the girl mused.
Gage couldn’t help but tease. “What would you have done if I said it was illegal? Call the cops?”
She smiled a blinding sight. “That’s it. It is pretty.”
With one more glance at the bare bones of the mural just beginning to take form, the girl turned to leave. Gage was positive his heart leaped into his throat, creating a lump his words couldn’t make their way by.
The darkened blue of her eyes glittered as she stared back. “Yeah?”
Gage forced himself to swallow the nerves beginning to form in his throat. Nervousness wasn’t like him at all. “You didn’t tell me your name.”
“You didn’t tell me yours, either.”
“Gage. It’s Gage.”
Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/spray-paint-kisses-by-bethany-kris/
Add Spray Paint Kisses to Goodreads TBR
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother of two young sons, two cats, and two dogs. Between barking dogs, snuggling cats, playing children, and a spouse calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.
Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/bethany-kris/
Posted by Leslie P Garcia on September 1, 2014
I am delighted to welcome Lola Karns to share a little of her writing journey. Her new release, Bad Traveler–look at that cover!–features a remarkable story from small town America. She also shares a recipe that made me laugh, even after I spent a 13 hour stretch at the day job. Be sure you read all the way through to the most useful cookies you might ever find! Let’s get a little bit of Lola’s perspective on this new romance and the writing life in general.
Lola, you have a new release, Bad Traveler, coming out on August 22nd. Before we talk about the newest release, what would you like us to know about your work up to the moment?
Bad Traveler marks my debut as a multi-published author. My first book, Winter Fairy, came out in 2012.
I grew up in a small town, and love small towns as setting—and really sometimes, as characters—in stories. Tell me a little about the town and residents we’ll meet in Bad Traveler?
I created a college town, the sort of place dominated by bars, cheap eats and a seasonal population of students. The idea of placing my hero and heroine in this sort of place appealed. They met at the college, but are in different stages of life when they independently return. So far as residents, Gwen’s parents are both academics. Kyle works for the college, but Gwen’s sister, Keira, serves as voice for the year round residents. She’s fun. She might deserve her own story.
You know what’s better than a single title small town romance? A series! Hint, hint.Your heroine and maybe especially your hero caught my attention—their problems are so current and so difficult to resolve. How did Gwen and Kyle come about?
Gwen developed in part through conversations with other women who expressed the fantasy of owning their own bakery and in part through my own parenting moments where I thought “I need help.” I’m fortunate that my husband is involved with my children’s lives. Single parents have a difficult road. Kyle evolved from my experience living near Virginia Beach and Norfolk VA. With a large military presence, I became acquainted with a number of active duty members of the military who were thinking about what happens after retirement. The local newspaper, the Virginian-Pilot, ran a series of articles about wounded warriors, who face unique challenges in adapting to civilian life. The range of responses discussed in the paper inspired me to think more about the reintegration of these brave individuals into civilian society.
Miranda Lambert wrote a song called “Everybody Dies Famous in a Small Town.” What would Gwen and Kyle be proudest and most ashamed of in their town?
Kyle is most proud of Gwen and how she opened her own business. She is proud of her business too, but her daughter Chloe, always comes first. So far as what would shame them most, no doubt, gossip.
Small town gossip is both the best and the worst. Depends a lot on the situation! What do you want readers to take away from Bad Traveler, or any Lola Karns story?
I hope that readers find something that makes them smile, something that offers food for thought and something that makes them want a cold shower.
What didn’t I ask that I should have—something important, silly, funny, strange—just something you want to add?
I asked Gwen for her brownie recipe, but she refused to share. Instead she offered this recipe for Aggression Cookies used in a pivotal scene.
From the kitchen of Gwen Jones
3 cups old-fashioned oats
1 ½ cups packed brown sugar
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
3 sticks unsalted butter, softened
1 ½ tsp baking powder
1 cup chocolate chips (I also like a blend with butterscotch)
Dump all ingredients into a large bowl. Mash, squish, pound, punch until thoroughly mixed and you’ve mostly forgotten why you were mad in the first place.
Roll into 1 ½ inch sized balls and place on parchment lined cookie sheet. If you’re still mad, you can smash them into place with the side of your palm dipped into sugar.
Bake 10-12 minutes in a 350 degree oven
A warm cookie and a glass of milk will ease any left-over hostility.
Having worked as a bartender, shipping clerk, concierge, document translator, European history doctoral candidate, and more as she moved through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, New Jersey, Georgia, and Virginia, Lola decided she needed a more portable career. Writing fit the bill.
Lola currently resides in Minnesota with her husband, two children, two hairless cats and a fluffy ex-stray cat. When not writing, she enjoys baking, reading and drinking coffee.
Posted by Leslie P Garcia on August 22, 2014
Suffering from the summer doldrums? Has the weather been a little cool, or the sizzle a little short-lived? Rescue is at hand! Find out about an extraordinary bundle of hot books to end your summer with a bang. Here’s what you need to know:
Summer Heat – 10 Sizzling Romances for 99 Cents
Do you like it hot? Crimson Romance just released a new 10-book box set of their steamiest titles for only $0.99. You heard right! These aren’t short stories or novellas but ten full-length romances all in one big bundle for less than a dollar. Bought separately, you would pay over $40 for these same books. This collection will be available for a limited time , so don’t miss out!
On an even tighter budget? Kindle Unlimited subscribers can borrow all the individual titles FREE as part of their subscription. Just click the Free on Kindle Unlimited links under each title below to download.
When the summer sun beats down on the beach, Crimson Romance turns up the sizzle between the pages. From hot bikers to powerful venture capitalists and those oh-so-sexy military men in—and out—of uniform, these ten books put the spotlight on the heroes who make us melt.
Where to Buy:
Summer Heat includes all 10 of the following titles:
The Wicked Bad by Karyn Gerrard
Is Veronica a good girl who longs to rub against…The Wicked Bad?
Infamous by Irene Preston
Hollywood’s favorite wild child moves to the ‘burbs in this heart-warming romance that reviewers call fun, flirty, and 10 kinds of hot.
Prelude to a Seduction by Lotchie Burton
Can an unexpected romance develop between an over-confident, on-the-prowl playboy and his unsuspecting and uncompromising prey?
Inventing Sin by Alicia Thorne
Dumped by her ho-hum boyfriend, English professor Gabriella Kurtz invents the perfect imaginary man to replace him . . . and gets the surprise of her lifetime when a real flesh-and-blood hero takes advantage of her little white lie.
His Fantasy Maid by Susan Blexrud
Dr. Amy Maitland is a first year resident physician, but she leads a double life…as a fantasy maid.
Island Pursuits by Heather Rodney-Diaz
Adrian and Cory begin a sizzling affair in their island paradisebut what they both discover about the past threatens to destroy any chance of a happily ever after.
Dangerous Love by Lilou DuPont
In Prague, Laura explores her sexuality by embarking on an erotic love affair that challenges her deeply held beliefs.
Her New Worst Enemy by Christy McKellen
Ellie’s no-strings weekend fling with her brother’s best friend should be the easiest thing in the world to walk away from, so why is she finding it so difficult?
Blitzkrieg Love by Livia Olteano
Ellie’s no-strings weekend fling with her brother’s best friend should be the easiest thing in the world to walk away from, so why is she finding it so difficult?
As If You Never Left Me by Katriena Knights
Rey wants Joely back, But will his carefully laid plans disintegrate when she finds out what really brought him home to Colorado?
Still not sure? Here are a few excerpts to help you make up your mind!
The Wicked Bad by Karyn Gerrard
Dark and brooding, Nick Crocetti is a bad boy in looks and demeanor. Veronica Barnes needs a new start, and Nick is a complication she doesn’t need.
Can they break down the barriers of past heartbreak, or is Veronica just a good girl who longs to rub against “the wicked bad”?
She followed him toward the beach. The shoreline wasn’t very big, but private, as you couldn’t see the road or much else from their vantage point. Wonder how many other women he brought here, she thought cynically.
He spread the blanket and assisted her in sitting down. Again, the touch of his hand made her face flush as well as parts further south. Nick sat next to her with one leg bent and he rested his arm on the top of his knee. They sat quietly and gazed out over the water. The waves caressed the sand with a serene almost hypnotic sound.
“I saw you talking to that wuss, Jake Spooner, as I left the other day. I can imagine what he said about me,” Nick said in a voice so soft, she hardly recognized it as his.
Veronica cleared her throat uncomfortably.
Nick laughed. “I see. Go on, amuse me, what did he say?”
“Um, he said you were in prison—” she began.
“Jail. Not prison,” he retorted.
“There’s a difference?”
“You’ve got the cop for a brother, you tell me,” Nick snapped. He shook his head, more gently he said, “Sorry. It’s a touchy subject. City jail, for assault and destruction of property. Prison usually means a state or federal beef. Mine was local and a long time ago. I did my time and it’s over. I don’t like talking about it.”
“He called you a thug and said you deal drugs among other things.” She shouldn’t be telling him this, but the words tumbled out of her.
“Really? And still you went out with me? Are you some thrill seeker, one of those good girls eager to rub up against some wicked bad? Is that why you’re here? I’ll be as bad as you want, just say the word.”
His voice grew tight and edgy. Barely restrained anger simmered below the surface, she could hear it.
“I’m just telling you what Jake said, you asked.”
Nick stared at her for several moments. “Yeah. I did. Sorry. I haven’t been out on a date in awhile.”
“You haven’t been with any women…”
“Oh, I didn’t say I haven’t been with women, just haven’t been on a date.” The right corner of his mouth twitched in what Veronica supposed was amusement.
Karyn lives in a small town in the western corner of Ontario, Canada. She wiles away her spare time writing and reading romance while drinking copious amounts of Earl Grey tea. Tortured heroes are a must. A multi-published author with a few best-sellers under her belt, Karyn loves to write in different genres and time periods, though historicals are her favorite. As long as she can avoid being hit by a runaway moose in her wilderness paradise she assumes everything is golden.
Karyn’s been happily married for a long time to her own hero. His encouragement keeps her moving forward.
Infamous by Irene Preston
Jessica Sinclair is Hollywood’s favorite wild-child, so what’s she doing burning cookies and playing house in the ‘burbs? Conservative soccer dad Morgan Riley can’t figure it out but he’s happy to have her home and heating things up in his bed. Then Jessica finds herself back in the tabloids…with Morgan’s teenage daughter right next to her.
In the elevator, he fumbled for the room key that would allow them access to the suites on the top floors. His hands felt big and awkward as they swiped the key through the reader. If you stripped me naked on the hors d’oeuvres table. . . .Christ. She always had a way of knocking him off balance, of peeling away every last bit of self control. She had thrown the words out so casually, and as soon as she said them he had pictured doing just that—imagined shoving aside the crudités and shrimp cocktail and spreading her out like his own personal feast.
The doors closed and she was in his arms. He pushed her against the elevator wall, his tongue thrusting urgently into her mouth. She wound around him, humming incoherent words of encouragement. They weren’t nearly close enough. She tilted her head back, inviting his tongue deeper. He was drowning in the taste of her when he felt her hands slide down between them. His body jerked.
They were still in the elevator. He was damned if he was going to make love in a public elevator. He managed to wrest her hands away from him and anchored them above her head with one of his own.
“Not here.” Could she hear the desperation in his voice?
Irene Preston has to write romances-after all, she’s living one! As a starving college student, she met her dream man who whisked her away on a romantic honeymoon across Europe. Today they live in the beautiful hill country outside of Austin, Texas where Dream Man is still working hard to make sure she never has to take off her rose-colored glasses.
His Fantasy Maid by Susan Blexrud
On the eve of Jake Sinclair’s bachelor party, his best man surprises him with a fantasy maid named Amy. Clad in a bikini, she cleans his house and jump starts his heart. She’s beautiful, smart, and compassionate. Why is a woman like this working as a fantasy maid? A few days later, with thoughts still distracted by the enigmatic Amy, Jake crashes his car and wakes in the hospital emergency room where his fantasy maid is now wearing scrubs and wielding a stethoscope. Is she an hallucination, or is his fantasy maid a doctor?
If I believed the adage, “you are what you do,” my self-concept would be in the toilet, so to speak. I clean houses in a bikini or French maid get-up, client’s choice, which contributes little to making the world a better place. As a result, my adage is, “you are what you become,” because I’m becoming a doctor.
But today, I’m Amy Maitland, fantasy maid.
My best friend and fellow medical resident, Ellen, knows about my undercover life working for Fantasy Maids, but she’s the only one. If word got out at the College of Medicine,
I’d be the laughingstock of the University of Central Florida. My five brothers know I work as a housemaid, which they respect as good, honest labor, but they don’t know the fantasy aspect. Protective (and controlling) men that they are, they’d lock me up.
That being said, it’s not the worst job in the world. I’ve been a fantasy maid for almost two years, and so far, none of my clients has tried to assault me. But it’s always a possibility, considering Florida’s propensity for perverts. The company (i.e. Rex, the owner, and a part-time secretary) arms us with pepper spray and an emergency hotline number (Rex’s cell phone), and they screen the customers to make sure no one’s a registered sex offender. They also arrange our appointments, and Rex is good about following up…within four or five days…to make sure we survived the gig.
Susan Blexrud hails from Orlando but currently lives in the mountains of Asheville, North Carolina, where she quilts, watches birds, leads a monthly romance book club, and conjures her next romance novel.
Dangerous Love by Lilou DuPont
In Prague, Laura feels that she has met her soulmate. Yet how can her soul merge with the son of a Nazi? After being passed over for a promotion at a Chicago advertising agency, Laura cashes in her stock options, quits her job, and moves to Prague. There, she begins an erotic romance with Byron, only to discover that he is German and his father was in the Hitler Youth. As an observant Jew, Laura has deep misgivings about becoming involved with the son of a Nazi, but the attraction between them is so strong that she cannot resist.
“Oh!” Laura cried out. There were other passengers in the railcar, but Byron did not seem to care. Presumably, he knew what they could (or could not) get away with on a train in Europe. He glided his hand past her panties and went right for her gash.
“Oh!” she cried out again. Their railcar entered a tunnel while another train blasted by them, gusting in the opposite direction. They were engulfed by a deep rumble and darkness. Byron sheltered her in his arms, protecting her from any danger. When they emerged from the tunnel, they were overwhelmed by sunlight.
He covered her eyes with his hands, as if blindfolding her. Finally, he kissed her on the mouth. His fingers separated, allowing in a burst of white light. It was ordinary daylight and she was on a midday train, somewhere in Bohemia. Yet it was more like being on Space Mountain at Disney World. Would Byron get the reference?
The tip of his tongue entered her mouth and teased her. She wanted it down her throat. From the tacky seat, she lifted up her buttocks, struggling to be as close to him as possible.
He reached inside the low, scooped out neckline of her peasant dress. He attacked her nipples, brushing them back and forth. Laura was so stimulated she wanted to scream. He restrained her by kissing her again. Now his tongue aggressively explored her. She sucked on it, wanting much, much more.
Lilou DuPont graduated from Bryn Mawr College with a degree in Philosophy and studied Erotic Writing at The New School in New York City. She lives in Washington, DC where she enjoys a successful advertising career and a large circle of friends. Dangerous Love is her first novel. She is at work on her second book, a spy romance set in Bucharest, Romania. Vampires? No. Gypsies? Yes.
Her New Worst Enemy by Christy McKellen
Six months ago Ellie Holdsworthy’s life was all planned out – kids, wedding, happy ever after – until her boyfriend dumped her for another woman. Now her best friend, Penny – an heiress to a small fortune – looks set to run off with a gold-digger and Ellie is determined to save her from certain doom. Unfortunately, the only person who can help is the one person she’d rather not ask…
Little does Ellie know, persuading her brother’s best friend – commitment phobic, playboy businessman, Gideon DeLancy- to hold an intervention at his beautiful Georgian manor would be the easy part. Keeping her hands off him is a whole other matter.
Gideon grasped her wrists and pulled them behind her body, pushing her breasts forwards even more. He held both wrists captive with one hand and pressed his body closer to her, trapping them. She gasped as his erection pushed against the top of her buttocks.
“See how much you turn me on,” he whispered again into her ear, his eyes not leaving hers in the reflection.
Blood pounded between her legs causing a hard ache of need, and she pushed her buttocks against him, loving the feeling of his obvious arousal for her.
As she stared back at the mirror she was amazed to see how different she looked now. Her breasts were high and full pushed forward and with her pelvis tipped back, her stomach seemed flatter and tighter. For the first time in a very long time she looked at her body, really looked at it, and liked what she saw.
“You see,” he said, kissing along the top of her shoulder. “Gorgeous.”
He released his hold on her captured wrists and ran his fingers across where her collar bones pushed against her flesh, to the dip of her neck, then skimmed down over her breasts, down her stomach to the top of her jeans.
He pulled the buttons roughly open and slipped his hands inside, under her panties, before pushing them down over her legs.
“Step out of them,” he murmured, and she did as she was told. She was now standing naked in front of a mirror. In front of Gideon.
“Bend forward and put your hands against the mirror,” he said.
“What?” Her voice was shaky and light with arousal.
“Just do it, Ellie,” he said, kicking her clothes away from them.
B.K. (Before Kids) Christy worked as a Video and Radio Producer in London and Nottingham. After a decade of dealing with nappies, tantrums and endless questions from toddlers, she’s come out the other side and moved into the wonderful world of literature. She now spends her time writing flirty, sexy romance with a kick (her dream job!).
Blitzkreig Love by Olivia Olteano
“Don’t try to be my hero. Don’t care about me. Don’t let go.”
Twenty-two-year-old Beatrice Stevens lives to dance. Two years ago she walked in on the picture of horror: after stabbing her mom 34 times, her father killed himself. She found his corpse still clutching at her mom’s, determined not to let go of her even in death. Now Beatrice freaks out if she’s hugged, loomed over or receives attention from daddy-type guys. Unless she’s dancing—the one thing that feeds her soul and saves her time after time.
Anthony Gowl wants Beatrice from the moment she bumps her adorable nose into his chest. That desire turns into a burning need after he sees her dance. But he’s the overprotective type—he can’t help it, it’s part of him ever since his sister ODed seven years ago. His savior complex makes him the perfect opposite of what Beatrice needs.
But she can’t seem to shake him. He’s both scary and exciting, even when he kneels at her feet. And the closer he gets, the more that toxic waste in her soul threatens to explode.
“Jesus freaking Christ, yes! I’m comin — ”
I froze there. Right before me stood tall, gorgeous, and annoying Anthony Gowl. And he was grinning.
“Is this a nightmare?” I muttered under my breath.
“Judging by your sleepwear, more of a fantasy. But I’m awake, so I don’t know what that makes this.”
I frowned and looked down. My sleepwear was a pair of shorts and a top. Well, not showing more skin than the costumes. “What’s wrong with my sleepwear?”
“Not a thing. But it looks so … intimate. I like your morning look. Truly beautiful women are beautiful right when they wake up.”
I snorted. “Whatever. You clearly know nothing of women if you think that. Now what are you doing here?”
“Will you let me in, or are we talking on the hall?”
I thought about it. The only other person living here was Doug, so I was sort of okay talking in the door like that. But he just looked so hopeful, like a puppy. I almost felt bad to keep him there. So I shrugged and turned around, heading for the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. Want some?”
The door clicked closed behind him. “Sure, thanks.”
“Sit down or whatever,” I called over my shoulder.
Once the coffee was all done, I poured two mugs of it and brought them into the living room. He’d settled down on the couch, coat shrugged off. He wore chocolate brown pants and a lovely, crisp, white shirt. Not clean-shaven like he’d been the night before, and I sort of liked this look better. There was something about men with a maximum of three days’ growth that was incredibly sexy. I left his mug on the coffee table and walked into the bedroom, put on a pair of sweats. Sitting with him on my couch, him in a suit and me in shorts just seemed wrong on so many levels.
“Don’t dress up on my account. I liked your earlier outfit — ”
I held up my hand and took a few gulps of coffee. The nectar of the gods slid down my throat and made me incredibly happy. I truly woke up then, my brain getting its gears in motion.
I sighed with delight then fixed my eyes on him. “Okay, now I’m ready to begin the day. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I think I liked you better before the coffee. You were so soft and pliable … ”
I squinted my eyes and took another gulp. “Start talking or I’m calling Doug to throw you out.”
Livia Olteano is a loud and proud coffee addict, lover of all things beautiful and incurable romantic.
She believes stories are the best kind of magic there is. And life would be horrible without magic. Her hobbies include losing herself in the minds and souls of characters, giving up countless nights of sleep to get to know said characters, and trying to introduce them to the world. Sometimes they appreciate her efforts. The process would probably go quicker if they’d bring her a cup of coffee now and then when stopping by. Characters—what can you do, right?
Posted by Leslie P Garcia on August 11, 2014
Ten authors. Ten books. One unbelievably low price for a summer reading bundle that celebrates the many faces of modern love.
Find out more below–the authors, a few excerpts to whet your appetite–and the unbelievably low price for this spectacular summer deal! And on a personal note–I had a terrible time choosing just three of the excerpts! I can tell you, each of these ten full-length works is one of Crimson Romance’s best-selling, most compelling stories of modern love. Get yours now!
When love calls, it’s rarely easy but always memorable, and definitely worth turning the pages. Recapture the thrill, the delicious anticipation of finding your happily ever after in these 10 unforgettable, hot stories by some of today’s brightest names:
Her Knight in Black Leather – J.M. Stewart
Destination Wedding – Robyn Neeley
Drawn to Jonah – Jennifer DeCuir
On the Fly – Katie Kenyhercz
Wildly – Debra Kayn
Falling for You – Heather Thurmeier
Beginning Again – Peggy Bird
Spiraling – Rachel Cross
Save My Soul – Elley Arden
Sweet Gone South – Alicia Hunter Pace
Falling for You by Heather Thurmeier
“Stay still, Corona,” she pleaded, patting the horse on the shoulder. She swung her leg over the horse, determined to successfully complete one dismount before the challenge ended.
Her arms shook as she lowered herself carefully from the saddle, finally giving up their fight part way down. Gravity took her the last few feet and she hit the ground with both feet, stumbling backward a step before bumping into something solid.
“How, Cassidy? How do you always end up in my arms?” Evan’s voice rumbled in her ear, his warm breath on her earlobe making her girly bits tingle.
She found her footing and turned in his arms. She could see the dust and dirt clinging to his five o’clock shadow, his brow beaded with sweat. He desperately needed a shower and there was nothing she could have fantasized about more than being in one with him. Instead, she pushed herself back from him and swallowed her urge to climb him like a jungle gym.
“What can I say? I guess I just keep falling for you,” she said, before her brain caught up to her mouth and she was able to censor herself.
Heather Thurmeier is a lover of strawberry margaritas, a hater of spiders, and a reality TV junkie. Her passion is contemporary romance—writing stories filled with laugh out loud moments, uber-hunky heroes, feisty heroines, and always a happily ever after.
Drawn to Jonah by Jennifer DeCuir
Jonah was standing at the sink with his back to Quinn. Or rather, with his backside to Quinn. She paused for a moment, enjoying the view. Until she realized that Jonah was looking at her reflection in the kitchen window. If she weren’t so mortified, having been caught checking out the handyman’s butt, she might have noticed the fact that he seemed to enjoy the attention.
“Um,” she gestured at the gurgling coffeemaker.
“Yeah, I’d like some. Thanks.” Jonah grinned.
He peeked in on Lily, who was curled up on the couch, wrapped in Nanny’s crazy colored afghan. They sat down at the table, the silence awkward. Jonah looked agitated.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he blurted.
There it was. Her instincts were spot on. She nodded.
“I’ve been trying to come up with the right way to ask this.” Jonah drummed his fingers on the tabletop, his expression sheepish.
He was going to ask her out! She had to tell him no. It wouldn’t work. But he was so good looking, such a loving father. He made her feel things she had no business feeling. Oh, what the hell—she’d go out with him. Just this once.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” He breathed deep and leaned in close. “I was hoping that you would…teach me to read.”
Wow, it must have been the paint fumes coming off his speckled T-shirt, because Quinn could have sworn that Jonah just asked her to teach him to read.
Jennifer DeCuir is a busy mom still trying to figure out how to balance carpooling, volunteering and homework with writing time. Coffee helps … a lot.
Destination Wedding by Robyn Neeley
“Kate, I was expecting you.” He chuckled and pointed to her side. “Do you need some help with that?”
Kate looked down in horror. She had forgotten to zip up her dress! Her lacy blue bra and matching thong strap were visible. She yanked up the side zipper. “You have something of mine,” she said icily.
“Your dress from last night. Here it is.” He pulled back the closet door and handed it to her. “Looks like they were able to get the tomato juice stain out. Good as new.”
“Thank you.” She clutched the dress and turned to leave. On impulse, she spun back around. “You know. You’re an ass.”
He smiled down at her. His smile was just as warm as it had been last night. “I’ve been called worse. Listen, Kate, we need to talk. Let me get dressed real quick. Why don’t you come in and have some champagne.”
Kate peered in. Next to him was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket and a glass plate of chocolate covered strawberries.
“I sent those to you and Lauren. There’s nothing to say. You, Drew Cannon, are my client. I don’t know what last night was about, but we will not be clinging champagne flutes unless it’s at your wedding!”
“Kate, you’ve got this all wrong. This isn’t what you think.”
“You commandeering my dress and posing as my boyfriend isn’t what happened?”
“Well, yes, but come in. I’ll explain everything. I think you’ll find it quite amusing.”
“There is nothing funny about my client being a lying, cheating schmuck.” She turned and headed back to her room.
The door slammed behind her.
“Kate, please stop. If you would just listen—”
She put her hand up to block his words. “Don’t follow me. I am only going to pretend to be nice to you because you are my client, and your wedding is going to catapult me to partner. I need this wedding to go off without a hitch.”
He swore under his breath.
“You don’t have to get nasty.” She pushed her keycard in and unlocked her door.
“No, it’s not you. I locked myself out.”
“Not my problem.” Kate entered her room and slammed the door.
“Kate. Come on,” he pleaded from the hallway. “At least let me borrow your phone to call housekeeping. You can’t leave me out here in a towel.”
“Consider it payback!” she yelled and peered out of the peephole. He had turned around. His beautifully sculpted backside was exactly as she had imagined. No tattoos, no scars. Pure perfection. Her nails would have a heyday…
Frustrated, she turned around and leaned against the door. So he has to go to the lobby in a towel to fetch a new key. He’d probably get some suggestive looks from women anxious to find out what was underneath it. That’s not payback. Her lips turned up in a devilish smirk. “But this is.” She gripped the door handle and flung it open.
“Thank you, Kate.” He started to enter. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me out here. I’ll only be a minute.”
“Not so fast.” She rested one hand on his chest and yanked off his towel with the other, leaving him naked. “I’ll just have this dry cleaned for you.”
She slammed the door and rolled up the towel, shoving it in the wastepaper basket. Now that was payback.
Robyn Neeley is an East Coaster who loves to explore new places; watches way more reality TV than she cares to admit; can’t live without Dunkin Donuts coffee and has never met a cookie she didn’t like. If you have a must read romance suggestion or a fabulous cookie recipe, she wants to know. Visit her at robynneeley.com.
Posted by Leslie P Garcia on July 14, 2014
Today Return to Rio is proud to highlight Tara Mills brand new release Dark Storms! To celebrate, Tara provided us with a blurb and excerpts to share with you–so dig in and enjoy. Check back here or on Tara’s site (following excerpts) for information on any upcoming blog tours or giveaways!
Fresh out of the Navy, Gabriel Nadeau is more than ready to settle down when he accepts a job on Pelican Cay. He craves peace and serenity—and lands in a tempestuous paradise instead. Barely unpacked, he finds himself entangled with the enchanting free spirit, Adriana Hernandez, marked by a jealous rival, and uncovering an ongoing crime. As the residents prepare for the storm of the century bearing down on them, Gabe discovers the hurricane is the least of his worries and he and Adriana are both in more danger than either realized.
Gabe was sprawled face down on his bed, the twisted sheet draped loosely over one leg and pinned beneath the other, when he was roused by a rap on his door.
He shook himself awake as another knock sounded. The digital clock on the bedside table told him it was nearly two in the afternoon.
Grunting and groaning, he rolled to his side and rubbed his eyes. “Hang on. I’m coming.”
He swung his legs off the bed, grabbed the untucked sheet, and wrapped it around his waist as he shuffled to the door. Still a little drowsy, he tried and failed to manage the chain stop and gave up, pulling the door open without it.
Adriana was on the other side. Her eyebrows shot up and she gave him a wicked grin. “Good afternoon. I brought coffee from the lobby.” She looked him over, very carefully, and her smile widened. “Why don’t you get dressed and meet me on your little patio?”
“Ah…” He followed her eyes down his bare torso to the loose bed sheet and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure. Be right with you.”
She put a little extra wiggle in her walk as she wandered off. Grateful and grinning now himself, he closed the door. Whatever was on top in the bureau drawers is what he grabbed and took into the bathroom.
Adriana was relaxing in one of his two patio chairs when he joined her. She took in his lightweight track pants and Navy t-shirt and gave a sad little sigh. “Gone, but not forgotten.” Before he could respond, she picked up a thermal mug from the little table next to her and offered it to him.
“Thanks.” The mug was brand new and stamped on the outside with the resort’s logo.
“I didn’t know what you like, so I just went with our special Pelican Cay roast and two amaretto creamers.”
He leaned against the railing and took a taste. “Mmm, works for me. Thanks again.”
“Did you get enough sleep?”
“Plenty. I usually only need about six hours a night.”
She frowned. “So you didn’t go to bed right away?”
“I needed to wind down first.”
“Hmm.” She seemed to mull that over for a moment then shook herself and looked up at him, brows arched. “I noticed you don’t have a shift until tomorrow morning. Would you like me to show you around? I’ll give you a tour of the island.”
“Aren’t you working?”
“It’s slow. I asked if I could leave early.” She winked at him. “I have an in with the boss.”
He took another pleasurable swallow, finally waking up. “Lucky. Sure, I’d love a tour.”
“Bring your trunks. Who knows, we might find time to take in a little swim.” She stood up and tipped back her own cup, draining it. “I have a couple of things to finish. Why don’t you meet me at the front desk? I’ll introduce you to Rosa. After that, I’m all yours.”
It was hard to mistake her invitation when it came coupled with a flirty little smile. Not only were they on the same wavelength, but he was receptive to the idea. “Sounds good. I’ll catch up with you.”
She left him there and Gabe ran back into his quarters to brush his teeth, find his trunks, and grab his wraparound sunglasses. Working his feet into his leather sandals, he looked around, wondering how he was supposed to carry his damn trunks. He didn’t have a bag small enough. Ah, screw it. He wadded them in his hand, slid his wallet into his back pocket and plucked his keys off the bedside table. Out of habit, he tested the door once it closed to be sure it locked properly.
The grounds crew was busy. He could hear the buzz of trimmers being used around beds and borders. At least one riding mower passed nearby, making curving patterns in the grass on its way back between the buildings.
Skipping up the two steps and into the airy lobby, he met Adriana’s gaze over the counter and they both smiled. His heart beat just a little faster at seeing her again. It was ridiculous. She’d just left him five minutes ago. Yet, he couldn’t stop his blazing grin from flaring to life when she looked at him.
“Hey,” he greeted her. “Almost ready?”
“Just about. I have to put the paychecks into the boxes then I’m done. Hang on.” She turned and called, “Mom? Gabe’s here.”
An attractive woman stepped out of the office. She was a little shorter, a bit thicker through the body, but clearly Adriana’s mother. Smiling, she approached the tall counter, giving him a friendly onceover. The women’s smiles were identical. Where they differed was the eyes, or rather the expression in the eyes. Adriana looked at him with familiarity, intimacy, and open amusement.
“Gabe? I’m Rosa. It’s nice to have you here with us. Are you settling in okay? Have any questions or concerns?”
Startled, his eyes cut to Adriana and he shook his head. “Um, no. Your daughter was very helpful.”
Rosa patted Adriana on the back. “I’m glad to hear it. Honey, I’ll take those checks. Don’t make him stand around waiting for you.”
“Thanks.” Handing them over, Adriana gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek. “I guess we’re out of here. I’ve got my phone if you need to reach me.”
Rosa turned her around and with hands on both shoulders, walked Adriana out from behind the counter.
Summarily dismissed, Adriana spun around. “Wait, I need my bag.”
Gabe was snickering when she came back out of the office swinging a canvas bag by the straps.
“Here.” She opened the top of the bag and thrust it at him. “Drop your drawers.”
Adriana gave him a big smile. “There you are. I thought I was going to have to send a search party.”
“Unnecessary.” He looked her up and down and slowly shook his head. “That’s some suit.” His deep wolf whistle made her laugh.
She turned to show him the back, tossing a saucy look over her shoulder. “It’s new. Do you like it?”
“Very much. Should I read this as an invitation?”
The minx gave him an intriguing little smile. “More like a challenge.”
“A challenge?” He snorted at that. “How so?”
She started backing toward the water, grinning as if they were playing a game, only he didn’t have a clue what the rules were yet.
“Nothing worth having should come too easily. You have to catch me.” With that, she spun around and took off, racing for the waves.
Jolted by her unanticipated move, spurred on by her beckoning laugh, and still raring to go, he dropped his clothes and bounded after her. Adriana took a running dive into the water and swam away from him. He hit the water hard. The splash made her look back and shriek. Her arms dug in faster than ever, and she submerged making him wonder if she’d changed course. Then she resurfaced where he thought she would be and he gave chase, heading right for her.
She was a good swimmer, sleek and powerful, surprising because she was a slim little thing. He felt like a lumbering giant behind her, though he wasn’t a bad swimmer either. Slowly, steadily he closed the distance. Plunging under the waves he saw her bare feet and safely caught her right ankle without getting kicked. He hauled her back to him and she spun and sputtered as they both broke the surface and gasped for air.
Adriana smoothed her wet hair back and blinked at him. Her lashes were long, black and spiked. Paired with those deep brown eyes, it was a good look for her. She bit her lower lip and her expression turned coy. Not expecting that, he caught her around the waist before releasing her foot. He wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t swim off again once she was free and he didn’t want to risk it. She surprised him by moving closer instead. Their bodies bumped and slid together. Her arm went around his shoulders and she pressed her chest more firmly into his.
“I’ve got you now,” he told her.
“And I’ve got you. What happens next?”
He wanted to touch her, let his hands and lips explore every slippery inch of her, but they were too far out and he couldn’t touch bottom here. But he could kiss her, and that’s exactly what he did.
About the Author
I’m a contemporary romance writer, wife, mom, new nana, and dog owner. I can be serious and silly. Thoughtful and thoughtless. I fear math and technology, but give me a box of Crayolas or a book and I’m a happy camper. Escape with me into books.
If you like fun and flirty, saucy and sexy, exciting thrills and suspense, or simply a feel good story, I’ve got a title for you. Romance with a heartbeat.
Please visit my website, Tara Mills Romance, for more information on my titles, sneak peeks, and my quirky blog. I’m also on Facebook.
Posted by Leslie P Garcia on July 10, 2014
Today I am truly excited to have author Teresa Blue here at Return to Rio. Teresa has intriguing answers to questions I asked, named a heroine after me (well, okay, maybe that part is coincidental) and offers her mini-lesson on creating tension. Enjoy the summer sizzle here along the Rio Grande, and let’s get Teresa to jump right in by telling us a little background information. Biographical, how long you’ve been writing—anything to know you better.
Well, I have a pretty boring life actually and probably that’s why I stated writing somewhere right after my last child was born…cough, cough, some 20 years ago. At first it was children’s stories. I enrolled in the Institute of Children’s Literature and completed several children’s books. I took a few more writing classes at our local college and broadened my scope to include short stories- even sold a few to various women’s magazines. Since then, I’ve changed genres, but haven’t stopped writing. Although I don’t get nearly as much writing done as I did before the internet.
I hit a slippery patch early on after having just joined RWA in 1999 – went to a writers retreat and came home to find my house a pile of ash. Fire! Every file…every manuscript, my computer was gone! I no longer had a computer, floppy disk or hard drive. I didn’t even have a house! For eight months we lived in an RV in the yard while our new place was being built.
I didn’t dawdle though; I bought a used laptop and started writing something new and totally different than anything I’d written before. Between going to work and purchasing the necessities required to make a house a home, I still had a son in middle school, I poured out my frustration through my writing. Although I’m not skittish, maybe the experience of living so close with nature and things that go bump in the night rattled loose the idea because Letters From Inside- a romantic suspense- was finished by the time we moved in.
We’re here to talk about your new release, Man of Her Dreams, and your upcoming release, Letters from Inside, but the blurb for your novella, Nightbird, really caught my attention. I love the idea of love that carries on even after death, through time and place. A fortune teller reads your heroine’s tarot cards in Man of Her Dreams—really a good piece of writing, by the way. How much does an other-worldly or spiritual interest affect your writing?
Thank you! I’m glad you like the excerpt. I grew up living within walking distance to my favorite aunt and ten cousins. She and my mom were sisters and nearly every Sunday they’d get together for dinner and the talk always turned to the ‘passing on’ or poor ‘Mrs. whoever rolling over in her grave…and the final ‘here after.” There was never a dull conversation between the two which naturally started my imagination spinning.
The real clincher came years later, at my father’s funeral after everyone had gone outside for that long ride to the cemetery. It hit me that I would never really see him again. Panicked, I rushed back inside for one more moment alone with him. As I hurried up to where he lay, he smiled. No words…just a smile as if to say he knew I’d be the one running in for one last goodbye. I never told anyone about what I’d seen, just figured it was my way of dealing with the loss. So later that week when my little girl- who was five at the time- said “Don’t be sad, Mama. Grandpa’s okay now. He smiled at you.” I was flabbergasted! Turns out she’d been in the foyer and saw the same thing. I’m totally convinced that death is not the end but rather the beginning of whole new journey!
I used that belief in the novella Night Bird. An untimely death, a traitorous business partner and havoc certain to follow unless steps are taken. My sea captain only has a few hours to make things right…
Okay, who else just got cold to the bone and looked around the room a little? Be honest. I actually agree, though, Teresa, because there are so many reports of incidents like that. I just found yours especially unsettling.
Before we talk in depth about Man of Her Dreams, I have to tell you that your heroine’s name is inspired. There just aren’t enough heroic Leslies out there—maybe just me and Leslie Stone. If we were on line and not talking face to face (winking), I’d probably say ‘lol.” Anyway, betrayal and a sense of self-determination seem to me to be a part of Man of Her Dreams. Where do your best ideas for stories come from, and what do you want readers to take away from your writing?
Leslie is a beautiful name and fit my spunky heroine perfectly. I agree, there aren’t nearly enough Leslies in the world! My character is one of three very strong, determined women you’ll meet in Man of Her Dreams. A double betrayal from her fiancé’ and bridesmaid sends Leslie on the road to self-discovery where she’ll learn there isn’t any ‘one’ particular person whose job is to make you happy– that happiness must come from within. ‘We make ourselves happy’ says Madame Luella- a pistol packing mama, who for all her tarot card knowledge, faces a few uncertainties of her own as she gathers the courage to return home to the son she abandoned at a carnival fifteen years prior. And there’s Sally, who can drink shooters like Kool-aid and still walk a straight line to make it home in time to watch Leno with her eighty-year old mother-in-law. Sally’s motto, ‘You gotta have a bloodline you can grab in a tight spot.’ Oops…I almost forgot to mention Mr. Jingles, the rag-doll who has a knack of making a sad situation better.
We’ll put up the blurb and an excerpt from Man of Her Dreams, and those will speak for themselves, so let me ask you, besides writing, what other creative outlets attract you?
Some might argue cleaning isn’t creative, but for me, there’s nothing more challenging than a stubborn rust ring in the bathroom or ketchup stain on a tee-shirt. And I love the smell of lemony-fresh mopped floor. I find the sparkle of clean glass on the porch windows very satisfying. It’s a terrible distraction when I’m writing along and suddenly get the urge to scrub the tile grout. Seriously! But I also love gardening and preserving the food…listening for the ‘ping’ of a successful sealed jar. I love collecting antiques, too and have a blog http://tereasa-thingfinder.blogspot.com/ to showcase a collection of ‘things’ from days gone by. My writer’s mind gets caught up wondering who was the first person to own this particular item? How was it used? Where are they now? Why did they part with it? And so on. It can be like plotting a novel…you just need to ask yourself ‘what if?’
You know, Teresa, my house could use a good dose of your creativity. Your welcome any time. Could you share a few of your favorite lines from Man of Her Dreams? And my first graders know there’s a second part to every question-why?
This is from a secondary character named Sally whose comments always make me laugh! Being around Sally is like hanging out with a best friend. Definitely shakes things up.
When asked if she’d like to go for a tarot card reading, Sally responds: “Honey, I’d go to the moon with that rich Russian if he had an extra ticket. Anything beats staying in this hot-ass trailer with Loose-wheel.”
“Oh, and I should warn you…my family’s here.”
“Of course they are. Family…they’re like roaches, crawling out from all over when you least expect them and embarrassing as hell.”
What I like best about those passages is that both women are dealing with common issues- family. Leslie, because she expected to have the cabin to herself for a few days until her mom, dad and brother show up. And Sally, who, despite being dumped by a cheating husband, continues to stay in the tiny house trailer on the edge of town and care for his elderly mother. What’s typical of any household is that life comes at you with things you can’t choose. All you can do is grab a rope and hang on.
You have an upcoming release, Letters from Inside—romantic suspense, I believe? I know Burroughs is the publisher. Is there a definite date yet?
Not yet. I’ve been told we’ll start the editing on it in the fall so I hope it will be available early next year. I love this story and am thrilled to have contracted it. Early on I got lots of requests from many of the traditional publishers but because it’s not the typical romance it was harder to find a slot for it. Boroughs Publishing Group encourages creative freedom that delivers an emotional punch readers crave. Letters From Inside is told not only from the hero and heroine’s perspective, but the villain is up front quite often revealing his character and how he came to be the way he is. Because people aren’t born bad…life happens and its how we deal with it that shapes us.
What snared me is the sense of understated malice that ends the excerpt I read. As a reader, I often find subtle tension affects me more than the in-your-face dead body kind of stuff, and the final line in the excerpt had me rubbing my arms. Are there any specific ideas you have on how to build tension? That some of us could stea—I mean borrow?
I love to be creeped out, biting fingernails during a movie, waiting for the girl to turn around and see the danger behind her. I think it’s neat to take a regular hum-drum situation and let the reader fill in the blanks. Because what theyfind most disturbing is certain to have a more lasting effect than anything I could dream up. I may give a character a scar that runs across his brow, but the reader might see him with zits and a thick wrinkled forehead; his mouth may have a cigarette hanging from the corner, one eye squinting against the smoke.
A simple everyday occurrence has so many possibilities.
Example: A young girl pulls up alongside a man on a deserted street and asks for directions.
“It’s a just a few blocks,” he says. “Kind of hard to explain but real easy if I show’d you.” Without warning, the man hops into her car.
You can see how this is a bad situation waiting to happen. Immediately our imagination kicks into overdrive.
Or… Bad marriage, battered wife pushed to the limit. “Honey…do you think this needs more sugar?”
Gulp!! I don’t even have to tell you about the box of rat poison sitting on the window ledge because you know it’s there! Your reader’s imagination can see it clearly.
Two more questions, Teresa. I just have so much I find I want to know, and I know Rio visitors are enjoying your visit as much as I am!
Writers work for readers. What do you want your readers to look for first in any Teresa Blue story?
I would love for readers to pick up my stories in hopes of meeting interesting characters. I’m a people person and even those made up become real when we give them a history. And back story almost always involves family. Issues from the past that helped to create the character. I hope the reader will identify with the common theme- family- that runs through all my writing.
Finally, my one always-asked question: Tell us something I should have asked and didn’t. Anything strange, important, funny, gripping—anything you just think we should know and don’t.
Years ago I entered a contest given by country singer Laurie Morgan, looking for poetic verse. I didn’t realize at the time it was a way to stimulate songwriters. I won an autographed copy of her book, Forever Yours…Faithfully and cd. I signed the rights to my poem over and forgot about it until the following year when her voice came over the radio and I heard the familiar lyrics of verse I’d penned.
If my heart had windows,
You could see,
The love that’s still inside of me.
Or something along those lines. I only heard it once, don’t know the title and sometimes wonder if I imagined it. It’s possible, I guess…after all, that’s what writers do.
Wow! If you knew how much I love country music–I have her “Good as I Was to You” on my all-woman “Leaving” playlist! I’ll have to go look up yours and brag about knowing one of her songwriting partners! Teresa, you’ve been a wonderful guest, and I wish you the very best going down This Writer’s Road. And remember–if the muse ever deserts you, my house is probably holding it captive!
Thanks so much, Leslie, for having me on your blog. It’s been so much fun!
Man of her Dreams Blurb:
Jay grabbed the new alternator and ducked his head back under the hood. “Harvey asked me to get it running. Sold it to some retiree planning a road trip.”
With Jay’s face buried beneath the hood, she felt bolder and decided to badger him some more. “You know you never answered me the other night.”
“About?” his head still hidden beneath the hood of her car.
“How you came to be here? What made you pick this sleepy little town?” He didn’t answer so she continued. “You said so yourself, there are not many ‘hot’ girls around.” She paused, and then continued, babbling non-stop. “So why do you stay? People… talk, you know?” She felt her face flush at the delicate topic. “I mean… doesn’t it bother you to be subject of such rumors?”
“How do you know it’s only a rumor?” he said, peeking at her from beneath the hood. His gaze pinned her as pulled a grease rag from his pocket and began to wipe off the wrench.
Her throat clogged and she stammered. How did she know? Did he even have to ask? She could feel it, that’s how. Deep down when he kissed her, damn it. His refusal to acknowledge the small moment of intimacy they’d shared irritated her and she started rocking in place as she sat hunched on the crate. Jay’s kisses had been so hot her breath practically steamed, warping all reasoning from her mind. Granted, nothing actually happened stretched out across his bed, thank-you Ben, but Jay’s heated response convinced her of one thing… he was attracted to her.
“I can tell, okay? But you go out of your way not to avoid people. Why is that? Don’t you ever get… lonesome?”
A flicker of emotions crossed his face before a mask of indifference fell into place. His eyes hardened with the same coldness he’d demonstrated at the bar with Spike. The one he used to keep people like her at a disadvantage.
Her breath caught awkwardly. She’d touched a nerve and her conscience crawled. She was no different than the rest of the people in town. Prying and judgmental. A knot formed in her chest like a wad of bread wedged, unable to go down.
He didn’t answer, just plunged beneath the hood of the car. A lengthy silence followed an occasional muttered curse lost beneath the hood. When Jay finally stepped back, his cheek had a black smudge below the eye and as he lifted his hand to wipe his forehead, another smear appeared.
He leaned against the fender. “You want to know why I came here? Easy. I’ve been up and down the road for years. This town is as good as any I’ve seen. And… despite what you may believe, I have friends here.”
Jay slid the wrench he’d been holding into the hip pocket of his lanky coveralls and walked over to stand dangerously close to her. She squirmed beneath his cutting gaze.
“Do I ever get lonely?” He fingered a stray curl beside her cheek then notched her chin up to look at him. “Let’s just say I haven’t gone without in that department either.”
If you’re looking for a bigger sample or to purchase Man of her Dreams: http://www.amazon.com/Man-Dreams-Daydream-Believers-Book-ebook/dp/B00LBKD5U0/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1404268020&sr=1-1&keywords=Teresa+Blue
Follow Teresa on Twitter@teab123Blue
Or like her facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/#!/looking4heros?ref_type=bookmark
Visit my website: www.teresablue.com/
And my collectible blog-site http://tereasa-thingfinder.blogspot.com/
I’m also on LinkedIn and Goodreads. I’d love to connect with you!
Posted by Leslie P Garcia on July 7, 2014
His Temporary Wife is Book Two in my Texas Heart & Soul Series, and sure–you can read it first, then read Book One, Wildflower Redemption, later.
Just to play devil’s advocate, though–why not read Wildflower Redemption now, and His Temporary Wife tomorrow?
Wildlife Redemption features odd animals, Texas spring, aka bluebonnets, a RONE Award nomination, a USA Today co-favorite book of 2013 by columnist and author Deborah O’Neill (whose co-favorite was my first Crimson Romance title, Unattainable) and a heart-warming romance between Aaron Estes and Luz Wilkinson.
Then–move up I 35 from Rose Creek to tiny Truth, Texas, and dive into summer in the Hill Country with Esmeralda Salinas and Rafael Benton, country music, and more unforgettable characters demanding that their stories be told, too.
Posted by Leslie P Garcia on May 7, 2014