Character Interview by Jan Bowles

Posted by Night Owl Reviews in

15 comments

Win an ecopy of Love Lessons with the Texas Billionaire by Jan Bowles.

One lucky winner will be chosen from all the entries

Include the first part of your email address with your comment. You need to be a NOR newsletter subscriber to enter. That's how we get your full email address...so you don't have to post it all on the comment. You must be 18 or over to enter. No Purchase Necessary. Contest Ends: 3/26/2010

***

When I first booked the blog on Night Owl Reviews I had every intention of promoting my new book ‘Love Lessons with the Texas Billionaire’. Who wouldn’t turn down a promo opportunity? Maybe I’ll do it in a fun way, I thought. But now, the time approaches, and I have nothing in writing yet…


So I’ve asked my characters, Eva St. John, a rather sassy English journalist, and Jack McClaine, a gritty Texas oilman, if I could interview them. At such short notice I’m very pleased to say they’ve agreed.

Now as we’re all sitting comfortably, I’ll begin:

JAN: “My first question is to Eva. What first attracted you to the billionaire, Jack McClaine?”

EVA: “Oh, Jack, I told you I didn’t want to be interviewed. That’s such a loaded question, if ever I heard one. You can answer that one.”

JACK: “Now, darlin’, don’t you get upset. Jan, honey, you know as well as I do that my status or wealth did not impress Eva. Just take a look at the first time we met…

Excerpt:

Eva sensed several pairs of eyes watch as she squeezed, breathless, into a sumptuous red velvet chair at the back of the room. She noticed one of the chairpersons, Jack McClaine, give her a dismissive glance. He obviously didn’t like interruptions. His mouth compressed as he reached out and poured water into a glass, his eyes locked on her.

“Mathew Douglas, CRB TV.” The slim, young journalist in front of Eva raised his hand and then asked his question. “What the world needs to know is how you can keep the supply of energy constant. We’ve already had Russia switch off gas supplies in Europe.”

Jack McClaine took a sip of water and answered, “As already stated, Russia turned the gas supply off themselves. A man-made occurrence cannot be anticipated.” He looked around. “Any more questions?”

Eva raised her hand, and he nodded for her to speak. “Eva St. John, New Dawn magazine. How safe is the pipeline infrastructure from terrorist attack?”

Jack McClaine spoke in his native Texan drawl. His gaze sought hers. A piercing stare focused on her face. “Well, now, Miss Eva St. John. If you hadn’t got tangled in the bed sheets this morning, you would have heard that, for obvious reasons, that topic is strictly off-limits.”

A bubble of laughter erupted in the room. A few people turned to look at her, their eyes watching as she squirmed in her seat. She felt about two inches tall. Damn the man, and damn that cheap alarm clock. Surely his remarks about bed sheets were rather impudent?

What did she expect? The man had a reputation. He did everything to excess. Her research last night had shown him to be a ruthless businessman. He had hauled himself from the gutter to achieve great things. His company served as one of the main distributors of crude oil to the U.S. and Canada. He wasn’t afraid of his past, unlike herself, so she would give him that at least. She guessed he didn’t suffer fools lightly. Well, neither did she. Looking back to the podium, she raised her chin and stared back. Her hands had clenched into tight fists. Maybe she should just drop her bombshell and wipe that egotistical smile from his face.

JAN: “I see what you mean, Jack. Eva must have been your reality check.”

JACK: “Sure was, honey.”

JAN: “Eva, perhaps you can tell me what did impress you about Jack?”

EVA: “That’s not difficult, he’s got this lovely smile, and eyes, well…

Excerpt: 

Jack McClaine had affected her more than she cared to admit. When she’d moved far enough away from him, she’d at least be able to breathe properly. Just as she emerged outside, he caught up with her.

“Not so fast, darlin’. You haven’t yet told me how you got this information.” His hand cupped her elbow, and he began to lead her back towards the hotel. “You and I need to find a quiet place to talk.”

His large hand clasped round her arm, and she turned to him, her eyes questioning. She gazed up into his rugged features, noticing the deep lines contouring down from his cheekbones. He certainly looked like the man she’d read about. He had the arrogance and, yes, a huge quantity of devilish charm, but Eva saw right through him. He was just a man, nothing more.

“Why, Mr. McClaine, are you always so polite with the ladies?” she remarked sarcastically.

His face creased into a smile as he looked at her, and it was the first time she noticed he had deep-set dimples on either side of his mouth. Her heart seemed to lurch before she drew in a breath to steady herself.

His silver gaze riveted her to the spot. “Hell no, darlin’, but perhaps if you’d allow me to offer you a coffee, you could tell me how you found out such a confidential piece of information about my company.”

“You have a reputation, Mr. McClaine.” She arched her brow. “Just where would coffee be served?”

JAN: “Ha, ha, ha, the sparks flew between you, the moment you both met. Now I know you’re busy, so I won’t keep you too long. This mutual attraction between you, how did you manage living under the same roof for one whole month?”

JACK: “Well now, darlin’, I guess you could say we got to know each other real well.”

JAN: “I’m sure you did. Thank you both for agreeing to be interviewed at such short notice. It’s been very revealing.”

EVA: “You’re welcome. Hey, Jan, don’t forget to tell them where they can find out more information.”

 

 

Aren't they just made for each other. "Bye you two. See you soon."

 

As Eva said, if you’d like to know more about my books or me, please visit Bookstrand 

http://www.bookstrand.com/love-lessons-with-the-texas-billionaire

 

Or my website http://www.janbowles.com/

What Are Your Passions? by Alissa Johnson

Posted by Night Owl Reviews in

22 comments

Enter to win a Signed (Backlist) Print Book by Alissa Johnson.

One lucky winner will be chosen from all the entries.

You need to be a NOR newsletter subscriber to enter. If you are not already a subscriber sign-up now or leave our full email address and you will be added to our newsletter. If you are already signed up...include the first part of your email address with your comment. You must be 18 or over to enter. Entry open to USA citizens only - USA Postage Only. No Purchase Necessary. Contest Ends: 3/26/2010

***


What Are Your Passions? by Alissa Johnson

     In my upcoming historical romance, Destined to Last, the heroine, Lady Kate Cole, has an extraordinary gift for music.  I loved creating this aspect of her character.  It provided me with the opportunity to take a small walk down memory lane.  I was never a musical prodigy like Kate, but once upon a time, I had a decent sense of rhythm and the ability to read music without stopping to count lines and spaces.

     I started piano lessons in elementary school, flute lessons and choir in junior high.  I tried out the cello in high school, and took a keyboarding class for my fine arts credit in college.

      I like to think my music teachers weren’t just being kind when they said I had real talent.  I also like to think I might have made something out of that talent had I just stuck with it.  I didn’t.   I slowly traded lessons and practice time for skiing, dance, and the one hobby I’ve actually stuck with--marksmanship.  By the time I graduated from college, I had set all instruments aside for good.   As a result, my current musical capabilities do not extend beyond some high school band music and a few piano recital pieces.

     This seems like the sort of thing I ought to regret, but I don’t.   Maybe the reason for this is because as much as I enjoyed studying music, I never had a true passion for creating it as Lady Kate exhibits in Destined to Last.  Or it’s maybe because I feel as if I didn’t give up on music so much as I chose to develop other talents.  So I can’t play Beethoven’s Appassionata.   I can say that I out-shot my brother the sniper (just once, but it counts) and I can stand with my father in a pasture and shoot bows at paper targets stuck to bales of hay.  It may not sound as impressive as a well played symphony, but I love it.  I have a passion for it.  I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

    What about you?  Are there talents you’ve stuck with or let go since childhood?  Are there interests or hobbies you’d like to pick up now?  I’ll be giving away a book from my backlist, so be sure to leave a comment.  You can read about Destined to Last and the other books from my historical Providence series at www.alissa-johnson.com.

The Quiet Moments

Posted by Kimber Chin in Contemporary Romance, Kimber Chin

4 comments

17 years ago this Friday, the hubby and I first met. It was love at first sight. There were fireworks and passion and quiet moments. Yes, quiet moments. For me, that is romance. It isn't about flowers or chocolate or big, big actions. It is when your husband-to-be reaches for the remote and you give him your hand instead.

As romance writers, we're taught to have quiet moments between the action scenes. Many people think of these as filler, a break, a place for readers to catch their breaths. I think of them as when love, real lasting love, happens. It is a glimpse into what the couple's love will look like decades from now.

My favorite part of Lisa Kleypas' Devil In Winter is when St. Vincent is working on paperwork and he, without thinking, picks up Evie's hand and rubs it over his face. The action isn't done with any conscious purpose. It is done purely for love. I can re-read that passage a million times and still get that 'awwww…' feeling.

In Flawless, between the killing, the cussing, and the knife throwing, my hero spends his evenings watching tv with his Grace and rubbing her feet.

"He lay his head back, closed his eyes, feeling her soft little instep, listening to her snores, like big a-- waves slamming against the sea wall. The most beautiful sound in the world."

These are normal (for them) moments. I know, years from now, he'll still be watching tv with his soon-to-be wife and rubbing her feet.

Done right, quiet moments can have as much emotional punch as a dozen action scenes. If a book has one quiet moment done right, it can completely change my perception of the story and characters.

Do you like quiet moments in your romance stories or do you, as one of my buddies does, skim over them? Would you like more of them or should they be eliminated completely? If you do like them, what are some of your favorite scenes?


$


Kimber Chin writes contemporary romances set in the sexy world of business. Her latest novel, Flawless, is the love story of a killer. To read more about Kimber Chin’s novels, please visit http://businessromance.com/

What is it about cowboys? by Joanne Kennedy, author of Cowboy Trouble

Posted by Night Owl Reviews in

25 comments

Enter to win a copy of "Cowboy Trouble" by Joanne Kennedy!

Just comment on this post! Two lucky commenters will be chosen.

Include the first part of your email address with your comment. You need to be a NOR newsletter subscriber to enter. If your not already subscribed leave your full email address and we will add you. You must be 18 or over to enter and a legal resident of the the USA or Canada. USA or Canada Shipping Only. No P.O. Boxes. No Purchase Necessary. Contest Ends: 3/19/2010

***

What is it about cowboys? by Joanne Kennedy, author of Cowboy Trouble

It’s surprising how many romances feature our hard-working Western heroes, because you’d think a woman would want a wealthy, successful hero who can offer her a life of ease. Doctors, tycoons, millionaires – that’s what we need, right? A guy with a big house and a high credit limit.

But a cowboy doesn’t do credit. He pays cash. He’s a blue-collar man who works for a living, and he’s probably not rich. He’s definitely not a snappy dresser—unless you happen to be partial to chaps—or a smooth talker.

But what’s your life going to be like with Mr. Moneybags?

Let’s say it’s date night. Your tycoon is going to take you to a cocktail party and a charity ball. You’ve charged a sensational designer gown to his account, and spent the day at the salon getting a new manicure and having every inch of yourself plucked, tweezed and waxed. You’re going to wear fabulous shoes that make you teeter a good four inches beyond the level where you’re accustomed to walking, so you’d better be careful not to tip over or twist an ankle. You’ll meet all the movers and the shakers, but you’d better not move or shake too much yourself, or you’ll ruin your reputation, and maybe scuttle a deal-in-the-making by making the wrong move at the wrong time.

Meanwhile, your cowboy wants to take you to a small-town rodeo, where you’ll spend the evening trash-talking with your friends and neighbors behind the chutes or sitting in the bleachers cheering them on while the sun sets behind the mountains. You’ll eat some barbecue in the parking lot, then end the night at a honky-tonk, drinking beer with friends and maybe hitting the floor for a two-step or three.

Mr. Moneybags is wearing an Armani suit and Bruno Maglis, and he looks fabulous. The suit drapes just right, the shoes are polished, and he’s clean-shaven and handsome. First impressions are important, so Mr. M. is always well-groomed, and he smells good, too—he wears just a touch of manly designer cologne that smells civilized, yet masculine, like cinnamon and musk.

(What is “musk,” anyway?)

Your cowboy, on the other hand, is wearing Wranglers that frame his saddle-toned butt and boots that turn his casual walk into a manly swagger. Chances are he didn’t have time to shave this morning before he saddled up and rode out, so his square jaw is shadowed with stubble. He doesn’t really care what anybody thinks of him, so he’s wearing whatever feels comfortable and he smells like saddle leather, sage, and sunshine.

Okay, now comes the important part. Date night’s over, and it’s time to shed that fancy gown and strip off that expensive suit. Mr. Moneybags bought a gym membership, so he has workout-honed biceps and a Gold’s Gym six-pack. He’s smooth and well-educated, so he knows just what to say to get you where he wants you: out of that gown and into his carved mahogany four-poster.

The cowboy, on the other hand, spends half his time in the saddle, working those all-important thigh and glute muscles, and the rest of his time on the ground throwing calves and doing various blue-collar tasks that make his shoulders broad and his arm muscles long and lean. He might not be a smooth talker, but you always know he means what he says, because he takes the direct route to what he wants and speaks from the heart.

Matter of fact, he does everything from the heart, and most of his eloquence is of the non-verbal variety. He’s a lot better at showing how he feels than at talking about it.

No mahogany four-poster required.

Meanwhile, Mr. Moneybags has a tenth-century illuminated copy of the Kama Sutra in his glass-fronted oak bookcase, and he wants to try the Congress of the Crow. Unless you’re double-jointed, this could be a deal-breaker.

Seriously, they’re both great guys. They both live in interesting worlds, and they’re both successful. It’s kind of fun to take one from Column Tycoon and one from Column Cowboy—but when it comes to everyday life, I want a man I can relax with. A man who makes me laugh. One I can trust and depend on.
And those boots, that swagger, that Wrangler butt—well, it works for me.

COWBOY TROUBLE by JOANNE KENNEDY—IN STORES MARCH 2010

Fleeing her latest love life disaster, big city journalist Libby Brown's transition to rural living isn't going exactly as planned. Her childhood dream has always been to own a chicken farm—but without the constant help of her charming, sexy, cowboy neighbor; she'd never have made it through her first Wyoming season.

Handsome rancher Luke Rawlins is impressed by this sassy, independent city girl. But he yearns to do more than help Libby out with her ranch…he's ready for love, and he wants to go the distance. When the two get embroiled in their tiny town's one and only crime story, Libby discovers that their sizzling hot attraction is going to complicate her life in every way possible…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joanne Kennedy has worked in bookstores all her life in positions ranging from bookseller to buyer. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, and won first place in the Colorado Gold Writing Contest and second place in the Heart of the Rockies contest in 2007. Joanne lives and writes in Cheyenne, Wyoming. For more information please visithttp://joannekennedybooks.com/.

I Love Scotland by Amanda Forester

Posted by Night Owl Reviews in

24 comments

Enter to win a copy of "The Highlander's Sword" by Amanda Forester!


Just comment on this post! Two lucky commenters will be chosen.


Include the first part of your email address with your comment. You need to be a NOR newsletter subscriber to enter. If you are not already a subscriber...register now or leave your full email address on the post and we will add you. You must be 18 or over to enter and a legal resident of the the USA or Canada. USA or Canada Shipping Only. No P.O. Boxes. No Purchase Necessary. Contest Ends: 3/19/2010


***



I love Scotland.  I love the accent, I love the history, and (of course) I love a tall, broad-shouldered, sword-wielding man in a kilt.  Does it get any better than that?   


When I began the research for my current book, The Highlander’s Sword, I started with two ideas.  One was that archetypal Highland warrior who occasionally visits me in my dreams.  The other was the beginnings of a story line in which a young woman who was promised to the convent, has her world turned upside down when she is married off to a Highlander instead.  Now, came the fun part – all the research.  I read lots of books, scanned lots of articles on the internet, and was intrigued by the Battle of Neville's Cross in 1346.   


Let me back up just to set the stage, because I think history is way cool – don’t you?  In 1290 the heir to the throne of Scotland died leaving two claimants for the throne, John Balliol and Robert Bruce (grandfather of the future King Robert the Bruce).  King Edward I of England agreed to arbitrate who would gain the throne, but at the meeting strong armed the nobles into swearing allegene to him.  He chose Balliol as the rightful heir to the throne, but made it clear he viewed Scotland as a vassal state.  Thus began the wars for Scottish independence.   


The Scots fought against English fought for years, with the English finally gaining the Scot surrender after the fall of Stirling and the execution of William Wallace (of Braveheart fame) in 1305.  Things were bleak indeed, yet the English were never able to completely subdue the Scots.  Robert the Bruce crowned himself king the next year and fought successfully against the English.  The Scots were eventually victorious in their struggle in 1328, forcing King Edward III to sign the Treaty of Edinburgh-Northampton, which declared Scotland to be a sovereign nation with Robert the Bruce as king.  In 1320 the Scots sent to the Pope the Treaty of Aborath, which declared their independence.  


In 1346, it became clear to Philip IV of France that England was going to invade in what would later be called the Hundred Year’s War.  King Philip begged King David of Scotland to honor the Franco-Scot Auld Alliance and attack England, thus forcing England to fight two wars and take some of the pressure off of France.  The Scots, always willing to take up arms against the English, gathered an army of approximately 12,000 men and marched into Northern England in October of 1346. 


Unfortunately, the English were not as unprepared as they had thought, and after some initial successes the Scots met the English army at Neville’s Cross.  Despite outnumbering the English 2-1, the Scots held a poor position and took a defense stance, waiting for the English to attack.  The English brought out the Welsh long-bow and harassed the Scot line until they were forced to attack.  According to legend, Graham urged the Scots to charge before the bowmen took position shouting, “Give me but a hundred horse and I will scatter them all!”  The Scots faltered and the Welsh bowmen were able to get in position.  Graham charged but was followed only by his own men and suffered heavy casulties under the longbow.  It is this setting that my story begins.  I wondered what happened to the Grahams after this devastating loss, and what would happen if a daughter, let’s call her Aila, was left the only surviving heir.   

THE HIGHLANDER’S SWORD BY AMANDA FORESTER—IN STORES MARCH 2010

A quiet, flame-haired beauty with secrets of her own...


Lady Aila Graham is destined for the convent, until her brother's death leaves her an heiress. Soon she is caught between hastily arranged marriage with a Highland warrior, the Abbot's insistence that she take her vows, the Scottish Laird who kidnaps her, and the traitor from within who betrays them all.
She's nothing he expected and everything he really needs...


Padyn MacLaren, a battled-hardened knight, returns home to the Highlands after years of fighting the English in France. MacLaren bears the physical scars of battle, but it is the deeper wounds of betrayal that have rocked his faith. Arriving with only a band of war-weary knights, MacLaren finds his land pillaged and his clan scattered. Determined to restore his clan, he sees Aila's fortune as the answer to his problems...but maybe it's the woman herself.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amanda Forester holds a PhD in psychology and worked for many years in academia before discovering that writing historical romance novels was way more fun. She lives in the Pacific Northwest outside Tacoma, Washington with her husband, two energetic children, and one lazy dog. You can visit her at www.amandaforester.com.  

It’s Barbie’s Birthday – Do Romance Heroines Resemble Her? by Marianne Stephens aka April Ash

Posted by Night Owl Reviews in

28 comments

Enter to win a Hat, tote bag, tee shirt (large or XL) and some other "goodies" from MariAnne Stephens. Just comment on this blog post.

One lucky winner will be chosen from all the entries

Include the first part of your email address with your comment. You need to be a NOR newsletter subscriber to enter. That's how we get your full email address...so you don't have to post it all on the comment. You must be 18 or over to enter. Entry open to USA citizens only - USA Postage Only. No Purchase Necessary. Contest Ends: 3/19/2010


***
It’s Barbie’s Birthday – Do Romance Heroines Resemble Her? by Marianne Stephens aka April Ash

Happy 51st Birthday, Barbie! She doesn’t look a day over 25…ever. Some styles have changed, but she’s still the dream persona for little girls everywhere. And, I love Barbie dolls so this isn’t a blog meant to diminish her popularity.

How does she compare to romance heroines? Is she a model for the ultimate, romance heroine…great figure, face, adorable outfits…and add the countless “homes” and “flashy” cars she’s had over the years?

Book covers tend to make heroines young and gorgeous…maybe even “Barbie-like”. But the world consists of real women, of all ages and sizes. When an author pens a book, does she have the “Barbie” image in her head for her heroine? Or, does she think along the lines of someone more “normal” and not so flawless. You know. The woman next door. The lady who works next to you. The person you see when you look into a mirror.

I create an image in my head of my heroine, and don’t aim for the “Barbie” look. Frankly, I don’t know anyone who looks like her. Those around me and in my world have flaws, are everyday women, and struggle with a few (or more) extra pounds. Even in my (ahem) younger days, I didn’t look like her nor did my friends. I think the last time I was a size 8 I was in grade school.

Barbie’s skin tone is perfect. Some I know go for a more natural look. Flaws are natural. In the real world, makeup can hide just so much, and then can get out of control. My heroines have flaws.

Barbie’s hair color and styles are impeccable. I doubt she’s ever had a bad hair day. Raise your hand if you can say the same thing. My heroine’s have bad hair days, limp curls, frizzy hair, etc.

Barbie has that wonderful hourglass figure. My heroines love curves, but not to the point of starvation and constant exercise. They have those pounds that glue themselves to your hips and/or middle and won’t budge. The term “attractive” doesn’t have to mean “perfect”. My heroines are attractive but have flaws.

Barbie has her “dream” home and flashy car. My heroines usually live in apartments and drive budget cars.

Barbie has the newest clothes and dresses in the latest fashions. My heroines can wear sweatsuits, occasionally dress-up for special events, and feel the pinch of high-heeled shoes. They can flaunt their figures regardless of not-so-perfect shapes.

In my newest book, “Anything You Can Do”, Allison suffers though wearing pinching high-heeled shoes, limp curls and makeup soaking into her skin, thanks to an overheated elevator. Definitely not a pretty, perfect sight, but intriguing enough not to scare off the hero. She’s not Barbie.

In my latest print book, “Gone to the Dogs”, Katie grumbles about her extra pounds, vowing to exercise and diet…and then eats wonderful meals with gooey desserts. Procrastination. Normal flaws we all have. She keeps planning to lose the pounds, but like most of us, has trouble finding the time and sticking to her convictions. She’s also not Barbie.

Barbie will always be a gorgeous doll, but not a heroine. Who wants to read or write about a perfect woman? Heroines need flaws so we can relate to them…and “watch” as they grow to adapt to their flaws…as we do in the “real” world.

Visit Marianne Stephens at http://www.mariannestephens.net for information about her mainstream contemporary and paranormal ebook and print romance books.

Visit April Ash at http://www.aprilash.net for information about her erotic contemporary ebook and print romance books.

Newsletter and Facebook information at both websites.

Blogs: http://sevensexyscribes.blogspot.com and http://romancebooksrus.blogspot.com

“Anything You Can Do” available at: http://www.breathlesspress.com

“Gone to the Dogs” available at: http://www.jasminejade.com/m-310-marianne-stephens.aspx

It’s never been a better time to be a fantasy geek! by Sophie Renwick

Posted by Night Owl Reviews in

28 comments

Win a package of author goodies from Night Owl Reviews. Just comment on this blog post.
One lucky winner will be chosen from all the entries
Include the first part of your email address with your comment. You need to be a NOR newsletter subscriber to enter. That's how we get your full email address...so you don't have to post it all on the comment. You must be 18 or over to enter. Entry open to USA citizens only - USA Postage Only. No Purchase Necessary. Contest Ends: 3/12/2010


*************************************
Post by Sophie Renwick


It’s never been a better time to be a fantasy geek! With the fantasy/paranormal genre booming and expanding, there seems to be a never ending need to feed readers, and no limit to the ideas that one can explore. I’m especially thrilled to see the explosion of fairies. Yeah....I’m a fairy geek!

From a young age, I was surrounded by story tellers. Hey, you can’t hail from a Scottish family and not have stories! My gran was a wonderful story teller. Her tales were always mystical and romantic, about Celtic princesses and yes...fairies. One of my favourites was Tam Lin, the knight who was captured by the Fairy Queen and forced into her court. When Janet, the Earl of March’s daughter was wandering through the woods, and plucked a rose, it caused Tam Lin to appear. The long and the short of it was, Tam Lin and Janet fell in love, and the Fairy Queen was enraged. Janet did everything in her power, and saved Tam Lin from the awful queen. And of course, they lived happily ever after.

My gran spoke of the fairies often. While her fairies were beautiful and awe inspiring, they were also devious, and creatures to be feared. More than once my grandparents and parents would yell at us if we were up out of bed when we should have been sleeping, ‘hurry to bed before the fairies come and take you away’. It was a sure fire way of having our little feet beating tracks across the floor!

But somewhere along the line, fairies, especially male fey began to take on a new shape for me. They became less...well, Tinkerbellish, and more...hmmm....Black Dagger Brotherhood? I was entranced by the Dark Court, the mysteriousness in the Dark Fey who were, in my mind, much more intriguing than those pixie like fairies. In my mind, fairies became sexy. Virile. Erotic creatures of mystery and powerful magic. A creature I could fear as well as desire.

So, when my editor asked for a paranormal proposal, what she got was the Immortals of Annwyn series, an erotic Druid-Celtic world of Dark Sex Magick and a very hunky Night Sidhe hero. Velvet Haven is the first book of that series, and Bran, the King of the Night Sidhe is the hero. He’s everything I dreamed a Dark Fey could be!

So, what magical creature is your favourite, and what creatures would you like to see more of?

Creating Cutting edge action - LOL By Mary Margret Daughtridge

Posted by Night Owl Reviews in

20 comments

Enter to win a copy of "SEALed with a Ring" by Mary Margret Daughtridge!

Just comment on this post! Two lucky commenters will be chosen.

Include the first part of your email address with your comment. You need to be a NOR newsletter subscriber to enter. That's how we get your full email address...so you don't have to post it all on the comment. You must be 18 or over to enter and a legal resident of the the USA or Canada. USA or Canada Shipping Only. No P.O. Boxes. No Purchase Necessary. Contest Ends: 3/12/2010

***

Creating Cutting edge action—LOL By Mary Margret Daughtridge

Readers of my SEAL books can count on plenty of action all right, and I hope it will make their hearts pound, but it’s not the kind of action that depends on car chases and spraying bullets. SEALs are the quintessential action heroes, but in my books they are most likely to find the action I’m interested in between operations and between the sheets. Hey, the way I figure it, they’ve got to come home sometime.

Whether I’m creating scenes of love or war, the key to making the action cutting edge is not to assault the reader with blow-by-blow (so to speak) anatomical detail. Doing that will actually slow a scene. Instead I offer the sensory detail that lets the reader experience being inside the skin of someone who is physically, mentally, and above all, emotionally capable of taking the action to the edge. Focus on the character doing the action, not the action.

It may seem counter-intuitive to put SEALs into a character-driven, relationship-centered romance as I do, but when it comes to lover potential, SEALs have characteristics that make them ideal. Here’s a short list:

Healthy hunks. These guys are in superb condition. Rigorous cross-training not only makes them great eye candy, it also means that no position in the Kama Sutra is beyond their strength or stamina. In basic training SEALs often do more than one thousand pushups a day. Think about it.

Self-control. SEALs have the ability to regulate physiological processes most people don’t even know exist. I saw a SEAL demonstrate that immersed in ice water, he could not only resist hypothermia four times longer than an average man in good condition, he could actually make his core temperature go up. Suppose that control of blood flow extended to other areas where heat is a good thing?

Focus. Men, by nature, are more able than women to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all else. On the other hand, women can get away with faking orgasm because most men are not good at noticing minimal cues. SEALs have taken the ability to do both to an art form. Suppose a SEAL turned all that ability to pay attention and notice slight physiologic changes on eliciting maximum pleasure for his partner?

SEALs think outside the box, plan in detail, and stay fluid in the moment. Do I need to spell out how those abilities could be put to use? Anything I can imagine—whatever setup will sweep my heroine completely her off her feet—it would be in character for my SEAL hero to do.

Trust me, no woman ever needed to be swept off her feet more than my lovely CEO heroine of SEALed with a Ring. And nothing would scare her more. Responsible for the welfare of hundreds, JJ has put off having a life for so long that she doesn’t know what she’s missing. Well, if you don’t count missing having a dog.

Davy, a drop dead gorgeous Navy SEAL, has a reputation (not undeserved) for being a “dog.” Not what JJ is looking for when she needs a husband and needs him quick.

Fortunately, Davy does know what she’s missing. And he’s the man to put the edge in cutting-edge action.

LOL.

SEALed WITH A RING BY MARY MARGRET DAUGHTRIDGE—IN STORES MARCH 2010

She’s got it all…except the one thing she needs most

Smart, successful businesswoman JJ Caruthers has a year to land a husband or lose the empire she’s worked so hard to build. With time running out, romance is not an option, and a military husband who is always on the road begins to look like the perfect solution…

He’s a wounded hero with an agenda of his own

Even with the scars of battle, Navy SEAL medic Davy Graziano is gorgeous enough to land any woman he wants, and he’s never wanted to be tied down. Now Davy has ulterior motives for accepting JJ’s outrageous proposal of marriage, but he only has so long to figure out what JJ doesn’t want him to know…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Margret Daughtridge has been a grade school teacher, speech therapist, family educator, biofeedback therapist, and Transpersonal Hypnotherapist. She is a member of Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Romance Writers of America, and Romancing the Military Soul, and is a sought-after judge in writing contests. She resides in Greensboro, North Carolina. For more information, please visit http://marymargretdaughtridge.com.

The Wacky World of Story Ideas by Delle Jacobs

Posted by Delle Jacobs in

25 comments

Win a signed print copy of SINS OF THE HEART, plus a pair of Celtic knot silver earrings by master silver artisan Tom Hakins. One lucky commenter will be selected. Just comment on this post to be entered!

Include the first part of your email address with your comment. You need to be a NOR newsletter subscriber to enter. That's how we get your full email address...so you don't have to post it all on the comment. You must be 18 or over to enter. No Purchase Necessary. Contest Ends: 3/8/2010
***

THE WACKY WORLD OF STORY IDEAS

One of the questions most commonly asked of authors is where they get their ideas. Since we're writing about life, ideas for stories can come from anywhere. But sometimes they appear in very quirky ways. SINS OF THE HEART definitely fits the quirky category. Here's how it happened:

When I'm deeply immersed in writing a story, my dreams change, and begin to tell me stories. Usually very adventurous stories. One night after a very long, strenuous battle with my work in progress, I suddenly sat bolt-upright in bed with an idea unlike any of my usual ones.

The heroine paints romance book covers (surprise: I do book covers too), and is struggling for her first big break. Looking out her apartment window, she sees this incredible hunk by the swimming pool. Hunk leaves. Inspired, she sketches the most magnificent man she has ever drawn, and submits it. It's bought and is a huge success. But then hunk returns and finds her interesting. She then realizes she over-did the resemblance and he isn't going to like it.

Two things wrong: (1) That's not how it happens with covers and (2) I don't write contemporaries. It's a good basic idea. But can I turn it into a historical?

I imagined an artist, A.B. Forrest, (Abby) doing book illustrations for 1899 era romances, hiding behind a man's identity because women artists can't get contracts. Living in remote Cornwall, she ships her drawings to the London publisher she's never met. Early one morning she's by the sea painting birds when she spots two men in usual male swimming attire (nothing) romping in the surf. Thrilled by the excellent male bodies, she sketches them, adds discreetly positioned scenery to cover the more delicate parts, and ships the illustrations to London. To-- guess who. The man who'd been on holiday and remembers that scene all too well.

But that's still not my story. I need a Regency, not a Late Victorian story. And there's also this other plot in my head that can't seem to pull together. So I went to bed and slept. Sure enough, my dreams mixed the two up and SINS OF THE HEART was born. Here's the resulting opener:

***
Looe, Cornwall
April 1813

There was no place on earth like the Cornish Coast at sunrise.

Breathing in the briny sea air, spiced like cloves by the sea pinks on the cliff sides, Jane stood beside her friend and scanned the ripening stripe of dawn. Gulls swooped and screeched as they dove and circled, and on the horizon, silhouettes of ships in full sail headed out to sea. Her pulse quickened, imagining distant adventures in exotic ports, with unknown dangers . . .

But for her, there would be no adventure. She was plain Miss Jane Darrow, safe in her quiet haven. She had nothing more daring to do than to stand at the edge of a cliff, her pale curls whipping in her eyes as she looked down to the surf pounding on the rocks below. All the same, she loved to let the wind toy with her imagination as it fought her for possession of her wide-brimmed bonnet.

Jane turned, leaving Lydia at the cliff's edge. Smiling to herself as her gray skirt billowed in the wind and exposed the secret Belgian lace on her petticoat, she spread the pink Welsh shawl with a flick of her wrists and anchored it with the willow basket.

"Shall we eat, Lydia?" she called.

Lydia glanced back, a smirk playing on her lips. She turned again to sweep her brass spyglass along the horizon.

"Lydia," Jane called again, but it was useless to talk against the stiff April winds.

She smiled, watching Lydia's sky blue dress whip about like a flag. Blue was Lydia's favorite color, and once had been Jane's too. But the plain dove gray of a lady's companion was good enough for her now. She was lucky, in fact, to have that much, for if it had not been for Lydia and her mother . . .

She shuddered.

"Halloo," said Lydia in a hushed tone. She crouched into the gorse at the cliff's edge and twisted the scope to adjust its focus on the secluded cove below the cliff.

Jane pruned her mouth, hiding a giggle. Who but Lydia could be so excited about coots and cormorants?

"Now there's a flock for you, Juliette. Marvelous plumage."

Jane frowned. "Don't call me Juliette. You forget too easily, Lydia."

"Hmm. No more easily than you, my dear. If you insist on being Jane, then I shall have to be Lady Beck to you, and that is silliness if I ever heard it. My. Magnificent wingspread. Mmm, look at that breast. Struts like a peacock, that one. But that one back by the trees, I'd say, looks like a ruffled grouse."

"Grouse?" Jane reached into the basket for her sketchbook. "Don't be silly. Even I know one does not find grouse so close to the sea."

"Ah, but you should see the peacock."

With a sigh, Jane gave up her thoughts of breakfast and picked up her sketchbook. She crossed the crest of the promontory to the leeward slope where a rosy sweep of sea pinks flowed like a bright blanket down to the crescent of golden sand in the tiny cove.

"Anyway," said Lydia, "I did not say he was one, only that he looked like it. Then, perhaps more of a puffin, but a rather flubberdy-dubberdy one. A gannet, maybe, with that yellow tuft sitting on his head like a bad wig."

Whatever was the matter with her? If anyone knew the difference between a puffin and a gannet, it would be Lydia. Even Jane, for all her studied ignorance of birds, knew better.

"Shh," said Lydia as she approached. Her hand waved Jane back. Lydia knelt on the rock, balancing herself on a twisted limb of scrubby oak, spyglass still trained below. She patted the rock beside her.

Jane's curiosity mounted. Following Lydia's beckoning hand, she scooted in, balancing her sketchbook in one hand and tucking her skirt up with the other as she moved.

"Such elegant plumage," whispered Lydia. "I do believe it's a godwit," she said, and giggled. "He does look as if he has the wit of a god, although clearly he lacks the black tail."

Puzzled, Jane edged closer and peered around Lydia's shoulder. She gasped.

Plumage indeed! Or a lack thereof. At the strand line stood two men. A third, the yellow-tufted one, obviously a servant. The other two, completely nude, dashed headlong toward a rushing wave, whooping and screeching like raucous gulls as the whitecap slammed into them.

The wave flattened and receded, and Jane blinked and looked again, just to be sure she was not deluding herself. The two discernibly male nude bodies pranced about on the wet sand, slapping their thighs and dancing about as if they had stumbled barefoot into a snowdrift.

"Oh, my!" Jane snickered, sketching as fast as she could, as the lean male bodies dove beyond the crashing waves, only to be carried tumbling back to the sand. Involuntarily, she shivered, thinking of the frigid water. They thought that was fun! She wondered if they understood the danger. Waves like that, or even bigger ones, were known to wash a grown man out to sea, never to be seen again.

"Oh, my, indeed," Lydia responded. "I should like to see him take flight, wouldn't you?"

"Which one?" Jane reached for the spyglass.

Lydia jerked it back. "Not yet. I want to see if--"

"Lydia! You are spying on them!"

"Of course I am, darling. How many opportunities like this does a widow get? You don't get all that many occasions to watch men dance about in the altogether, either, you know."

"Really. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with men."

"Not men, darling. Marriage. There’s nothing wrong with looking, especially at such finely plumed specimens. You should take a look."

"I don't see how I can if you insist on keeping the glass to yourself. Give it to me, Lydia. I need it to catch the detail."

"Not until I'm finished. Be still. They'll see us. And then, where would we be?" With a muted squeal, Lydia yanked the spyglass beyond Jane's reach. She shifted sideways closer to the edge and propped it on a thick branch of the scrub oak.

Jane huffed. Lydia never did anything by halves. "Be careful. You're awfully close--"

"Silly. Oh, you should see this." Lydia scooted forward again, elbows propped on the crooked branch.

"If you would just let me have the glass--"

A faint crackle, like damp wood on a fire, turned into a loud snap as the limb splintered.

"Oh!" Lydia pitched forward and caught handfuls of scraggly limbs. The limbs cracked. The spyglass spun through the air, tumbled down the slope and disappeared.

Jane's heart screeched to a halt as she lunged after blue cloth, but the muslin slid through her fingers like water. Lydia plunged into the gorse, arms flailing, rolling, bouncing through the springy brush. For a fragile moment, Lydia seemed suspended, then the frail shrubs shattered again, and she rolled on.

Jane screamed and screamed and screamed.

Lydia lay still, on a ledge halfway down the slope.

"Lydia!" Jane screamed again, searching the jagged face of the cliff for a path down. "Help! Someone help us!"

Something in the far corner of her mind mocked the absurdity of crying out to naked men for help. But Jane didn't care. Spotting a break in the shrubbery where gray granite poked through, she tossed her shawl aside. Heart pounding in her ears, she swung around the jutting stone and probed with her toe until she found a crevice.

Please God please God please God . . .

She edged downward, nightmarishly slow, brush snagging her dress and scratching her arms. Gravel crumbled beneath her boot as she clung to the snags of gorse, praying they would not break and send her tumbling like Lydia down the cliff. As she found her footing again, the breath she took burned into her lungs like thick, hot smoke.

She could see Lydia where she lay and heard her moan.

"I'm coming, Lydia! I'm coming!" she cried, and shouted again for help, but had no notion if anyone was still there to hear her. She dared not waste her time hoping.

The slope gentled to a narrow ledge, wide enough to walk along it. To her left, Lydia rolled to one side, but then shrieked and fell back, clutching her arm.

Heart pounding, ankles twisting, her skirt tangling, Jane scrambled through clumps of wild pinks. At last, she knelt beside her friend.

Lydia groaned, cradling her arm. Scratches covered her face and arms. Somewhere on the slope above, her shawl and bonnet had disappeared, and the sky-blue dress she loved so much was torn in a hundred places.

"My arm," Lydia whispered. "I believe I've broken it. My head. Oh, Juliette, my head."

"Don't try to sit up." With ginger touches, Jane tested the scrape on Lydia's head. It didn't seem too bad, but what did Jane know? What if her neck was broken? How could she tell? The arm certainly looked broken at the wrist, for it was beginning to swell, forcing Lydia's hand to jut at an awkward angle.

How she might get Lydia out of here, Jane couldn't imagine, but until she wrapped the arm, she couldn't do anything. Jane fingered the ruffle of her petticoat with its Belgian lace trim, remembering briefly how dearly it had cost her. She hissed in a deep breath, and gritting her teeth, she ripped it off.

"Oh, Juliette, not your Belgian lace!"

"It was torn anyway," Jane said. She smoothed the gathers out of the ruffle, then wrapped it round and round the bleeding arm, densely enough to form a fabric cushion and serve as a crude splint. The last of it, she made into a sling, and slipped the knot behind Lydia's head.

"How stupid of me, Juliette," Lydia winced as she tilted her head toward the little cove below. "I don't suppose we escaped their notice."

Jane truly hoped they had not. She would never manage to get Lydia off the cliff alone. Maybe they would just go for help instead of parading their bare bodies up and down the cliff.

Behind her, she heard a rustle in the gorse, and glanced back, feeling relief flood her as she spotted a man, complete in garments, working his way up the cliff.

She sat back and turned to call to him.

Cold fear slammed into her.

Edenstorm!

Dear heavens, could it get any worse? She ducked her head, tugging down her bonnet's wide brim to hide her face. Maybe he didn't see her. Or remember her. But he would. Just as she could never forget those icy, soulless silver eyes.
***

So tell me, have you ever had dreams or day-dreams or ideas you think ought to be made into a romance?