Chris Redding's Blog, page 5
December 26, 2015
New Website on Its WayIn the next few weeks I will have a...
December 6, 2015
Fuzzy Logic
Cody started the truck, and the truck lurched forward and hit a pothole so the baby alpaca’s head bounced on the seat beside me. “Oh, baby,” I cried and cradled the little neck in my arms. I held the tiny oxygen mask to his face and stroked his perfect little ears. I concentrated so fully on the cria that I didn’t notice Cody’s dark eyes glaring at the road.
Oregon State University had one of the few alpaca and llama veterinary programs in the country, and we were to be only a half-hour drive away. I didn’t feel so lucky when I finally realized that Cody wasn’t driving fast only because he was concerned about the sick cria breathing wetly in my lap.
He hadn’t said anything since we’d left the barn. I replayed the events leading up to me sitting in the hostile air of the truck.
My heart sank when I remembered the image of Evan in my frilly pink robe holding coffee in my driveway.
“Cody?” I said when I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Are you mad?”
He glanced at me, his eyes flashing. “Why would I be mad?” he growled.
“He just kind of showed up last night,” I said.
“Don’t,” he said. “I don’t want to know.”“I just want to tell you that I’ve been thinking about you, us—”
“And he just showed up and spent the night last night. I hear you.” Cody swung around a corner so forcefully that I gathered the cria more tightly into my arms to keep it from sliding.
“Please, give me another chance,” I said. “I’m not ready to let you go.”
“But you’re not ready to let him go, either,” Cody said. Pain was sharp in his voice.
“Please,” I said. “Give me whatever time limit you want. I’ll follow it. But let me figure this out in my own way until then.” I was afraid to touch him, so I clutched the baby animal to my chest and hoped.
He looked at me hard again, but his eyes softened before he looked back at the road. He made a turn into a parking lot and turned off the key. He turned to me and looked into my eyes. “A week,” he said. “One torturous week, and I’m done.”
I nodded, afraid breathing would break this reprieve.
Blurb:
She thinks moving to a ranch will lead to the simple life she craves, but the countryside has other ideas…
After divorcing her unfaithful husband, Meg Taylor buys an alpaca ranch to finally do something on her own. Almost as soon as she arrives, she meets not one, but two, handsome—and baffling—men. She thinks choosing between the shy veterinarian and her charming securities co-worker is her biggest problem, until life and death on the ranch make her re-evaluate more than her love life. At least her new life is nothing like her old one.
Bio:Maren Anderson is a writer, teacher, and alpaca rancher who lives in rural Oregon. She writes while her children are at school and spends the rest of her time scooping alpaca poop, knitting, playing with her family, reading, and watching cartoons and nature programs on television. She teaches literature and composition at a local college and novel writing to eager, budding writers. If you want to know more about Anderson’s writing, novel classes, or alpacas, contact her via Facebook, onTwitter (@marenster), or at http://www.marens.com.
December 3, 2015
The Storytelling Chair Stories at bedtime were a big par...
Stories at bedtime were a big part of life during the thirteen years Jonathan and I helped raise our grandchildren. We lived on Vashon Island in Washington State most of that time.
Our five-acre place at Center Island had – among many other kid-friendly features – a storytelling chair in a notch at a fence corner between two trees. Those trees began at the bottom more than far enough apart to fit a chair or the wider loveseat that preceded the chair but disintegrated. A casualty of the Pacific Northwest’s persistent dampness.
I would sit on the seat with a grandchild beside me or on the ground in front of me and I would read. One day my grandson – ever inquisitive and curious – asked me something like “What’s the story with the trees Grandma.” As he stared at the place where the trees grew almost together over my head I told him my theory.
“These trees were born very close to one another under the ground and they fell in love there. When they grew above the ground and saw each other’s beauty they fell in love even more deeply. So much so they couldn’t stand being apart and grew toward each other instead. Until they were side-by-side and kept on growing together to the sky.”
I’m not sure whether or not my grandson believed my story. Or the similar one I told about why the quince bush next to the driveway meandered through the branches of a lilac bush with unusually dark purple blossoms. He always appreciated a good story and seemed to accept what I said as such. A tale with a mood to it and a heart and – because it was me – a bit of romance too.
Stories at bedtime were told indoors of course and I read them most of the time rather than fabricating. I had a storytelling chair there too. It was bright red and sat between the dormers of the children’s upstairs loft. The sides of the ceiling leaned toward each other much like the trees in the fence corner outside.
On Christmas Eve I had a stack of books to read in the same order each year. I’d read in a droning voice designed to put two excited children to sleep. They’d be almost there when I reached the last on the pile and began.
“Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house…”
Alice Orr – http://www.aliceorrbooks.com.A Vacancy at the Inn – coming soon – is the first Christmas Novella of my Riverton Road Romantic Suspense Series featuring the Kalli family – and now the Miller family too – in stories of Romance and Danger. A Wrong Way Home is Book 1 of the series. A Year of Summer Shadows is Book 2. A Villain for Vanessa will be Book 3.
All of my titles are available at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B000APC22E.A VACANCY AT THE INNRiverton Road Romantic Suspense Series Christmas NovellaLuke & Bethany’s Story by Alice Orr
On a cold December day Bethany Miller and her son Michael arrive in Riverton.
She grew up on Riverton Hill in remote upstate New York where her complicated family still lives. She moved away to escape all of that and more. Now she’s back because of complications in her present life with what is best for her son. She hopes the Miller family will be a Christmas blessing for Michael. She’s less hopeful about what this homecoming will be for her.
The last thing Bethany wants is further complication. That means the last person she needs to see is Luke Kalli staring down at her from the roof of Miller’s Inn. They shared a glorious connection before she fled from here. The power of that encounter and the deep feelings she experienced came at a tumultuous moment in her life. They were yet another strong reason to leave Riverton Hill on Riverton Road and never return – until today. She has no idea this place will put her son in peril.
Alice Orr – Biowww.aliceorrbooks.com
"Alice Orr is a brilliant writer who has a Number One best seller hidden in her pocket. I look forward to more of her work," says one Amazon reviewer. I say “Thanks!” I love to write. Especially romantic suspense novels and blog posts. I’ve been a workshop leader, book editor and literary agent. Now I live my dream of writing full-time. I’ve published thirteen novels and four novellas – both traditionally and independently – plus a memoir so far. I wrote my nonfiction book, No More Rejections, as a gift to the writers' community I cherish. A revised edition is now in progress. Amazon says, "This book has it all." About my romantic suspense, Amazon says, "Alice Orr turns up the heat." Most of all, I like to hear from readers. Visit my website at www.aliceorrbooks.com. I have two grown children and two perfect grandchildren and I live with my husband Jonathan in New York City.
November 29, 2015
Christmas Eve
I love to read books about two lonely people unexpectedly forced to spend time together. She gets lost. Maybe he offers her a ride to the nearest phone, then takes the wrong road and his car breaks down. Does a sudden storm comes up? A mudslide? When the river floods and cuts them off from everyone else, they seek shelter in a summer cabin. Does she winds up in his arms?
The heroine of Christmas Eve does. A little-known ski area on Mount Charleston, right outside Las Vegas, Nevada is the setting for my novel. Eve Adore backs her car into a ditch in a blinding snowstorm. A handsome stranger takes her in. His modern cabin is cozy and she soon forgets the cold wind and the snow piling up in deep drifts outside. The two of them might as well be the only people left on earth. No one will know how they spend their time. A romantic dinner? Dancing by firelight? No one need ever know she climbed in bed with Nick and heated up his cold sheets.
Here's an excerpt from Christmas Eve:
Finally. Nick St. Clair took one last look around. Everything seemed in order. Don't let your irritation at your hired date's tardiness show. She might have a reasonable excuse for being late.
Straightening the lapels of his hip-length robe, he crossed to the door. Beneath the robe, black silk pajama pants provided minimal warmth but kept him decent.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," the statuesque woman on his porch said with a bright smile, "but I've done something really stupid and wondered if you—"
"Don't just stand there." Nick opened the door wider, anxious to see what his credit card had purchased this time. "Come in."
"Thanks." After a slight hesitation, the woman stepped gracefully inside. Ice crystals clung to the fine wool scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, and to her stylish boots. She was all bundled up in a long coat, but Nick's mind's eye had no difficulty sketching what he hoped was hidden underneath.
The lady wore far too many clothes.
"I'm afraid my boots are wet." She glanced first at him. His welcoming smile seemed to stun her. She stared at her boots. "Where would you like me to stand?"
"By the fire." Nick indicated the hearth. "You look frozen." Although in need of a woman, he had no desire to bed an icicle. He wasn't that desperate. Yet.
She crossed the room at a slow pace, her fluid movements an aphrodisiac to him, although each tentative step left behind a patch of melting ice. Sex-deprived man that he was, his living room suddenly felt too warm. Things were looking up.
"I've been busy on the computer," he said, surprised by the sudden gruffness of his usually smooth voice. He joined her before the fire. "I hadn't noticed it had begun to snow."
A soft-looking, hooded leather coat covered her to her ankles. What lay beneath all those layers?
To his surprise, the unknown whetted his appetite. "Here, let me help you out of that coat."
"No."
No? Her response drew Nick up short.
Bio:
Flame Arden speaks like a well-bred Southern lady. Nothing could be further from the truth. She claims to write sex scenes with ‘squirm factor’. You be the judge as she opens the boudoir door to one-man, one-woman relationships and gives you a glimpse inside. A happy and long lasting marriage has prepared her to write sizzling love scenes, and she doesn’t disappoint.
Christmas Eve BlurbIn a blinding snowstorm on Christmas Eve, the jaded owner of a posh Las Vegas casino mistakes the stranded real estate agent at his door for the classy call girl he's expecting to heat up his holiday.
Passions ignite. Eve has learned men believe bedding her the most direct route to her wealth. Nick's female companions want the keys to his Ferrari and to his safe deposit box, never to his heart, so he distrusts the entire lot and expects to simply walk away unscathed when his brief time with Eve ends.
Neither expects to give marriage a try, but hearts have a way of going where cautious souls refuse, and after screwing their head off for six days and night Nick and Eve discover without love their former lives were little more than empty shells.
Flame Arden LinksAmazon
http://www.flamearden.com/ChristmasEve.html
Evernight Publishing
November 20, 2015
Triptych
In my latest romance, Triptych, my heroine Miranda wrestles with the question of true love. She also wrestles with recalcitrant sisters, mysterious machines and art thieves.
What is true love? Can unrequited love be true love? Must true love be reciprocal? Can true love be bad for you? Can unrequited love be good for you? If loving someone makes you sad all the time, is it still love? If someone loves you and you don’t love them as much, is it still true love? Does true love have to last forever? Can you find true love more than once? What exactly does “true” mean? Honest? Everlasting? Exclusive?
In my new romantic suspense, Triptych, Miranda Cabot finds out.
Triptych, by M. S. SpencerEbook 67,300 words; Print 213 pp.
Romantic suspense/Adventure
M/F, 2 flames
Blurb:
Take lost masterpieces, brilliant inventors, and stolen prototypes. Add the Three Sisters, Indian spirits who guard the Potomac River. Stir in three sisters and their lovers. Result? Jealousy, sex, genius, larceny and love. Who will end up with whom, and will the Three Sisters take another life as the legend demands?
Buy Links:Triptych is available in both eBook and Print-on-Demand.
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
IBooks
Smashwords
AllRomanceEBooks
Createspace 
Excerpt (R): The Witness
Triptych, by M. S. Spencer
Excerpt (G) : Captured
Miranda waited for the footsteps to die away and for her heart to stop vibrating like a Chinese gong. She couldn’t believe her luck. In a stroke of providential stupidity, Pongo had tied her hands in front of her. Considering his scintillating conversation, I should have expected no less. She bent from the waist until she could reach the rubber band with her lips and pull it off, reflecting that those endless crunches were useful for more than energetic sex. She untied the rope around her ankles and rubbed the raw skin while she looked around. They were in a small room about four feet square. Mops and pails were hung on the wall, and sponges and bottles lined the shelves.
Luc hadn’t moved. Please let him not be dead. A glimmer of light filtered in from the hall and Miranda shunted toward him. She managed to untie the rope on his feet, but couldn’t tear the duct tape wrapped tightly around his wrists. Still he didn’t move.
She brushed her lips over his. He stirred at last and opened his eyes—and just as quickly shut them again. “Ooph.”
“Oh, Luc, you’re alive!” She kissed him again. “Are you okay? What hurts?”
He smiled, but kept his eyes closed. “Besides everything else? I have a splitting headache. Where are we?”
“In a closet. In Crandall’s house. Luc, I think he’s insane.”
He chuckled. “Yeah I got that feeling too. One doesn’t cross Mr. Adolphus T. Crandall the Fourth.”
“What do we do now?”
“Give me a minute, will you, mon désir? I am not at my best just now.”
Miranda bit off the tart reply, telling herself they weren’t going anywhere anyway. She sat as patiently as possible, listening to his labored breathing and for any outside sounds.
…“[Okay,] can you stand?”
“I think so.”
Holding each other tightly and trying not to knock anything over, they hoisted themselves to their feet. Luc turned the knob. Miranda thanked the makers of closet doors everywhere for not bothering with inside locks. He stuck his head out. “I don’t see anyone.”
The door to the outside stood open. Luc grabbed Miranda’s hand and tiptoed toward it. They saw sunlight glinting on a white van parked in a cobblestone courtyard. Birds twittered in the pines and a train whistle blew in the distance. Miranda felt like Dorothy as she ran out of the woods toward the Emerald City. That is, until something smashed into her skull. Before she blacked out, she heard a nasty, scratchy voice, saying, “Going somewhere, my pretty?”
About the AuthorAlthough she has lived or traveled in every continent except Antarctica and Australia (bucket list), M. S. Spencer has spent the last thirty years mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, one fabulous grandchild, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.
ContactsBlog
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About.me
Tsu.co
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AUTHOR PAGES:
I Heart Book Publishing
Romance Books 4 Us
Amazon Author Page
GoodReads
November 8, 2015
Kris Bock’s Southwest Inspiration
I live in New Mexico, and the Southwest inspires my work, as I bring suspense with a dose of romance to the land I love. Here are some of my favorite spots - heavy on the adventure.
Socorro: For most people, this town in the middle of the state is mainly a rest stop between Albuquerque and El Paso, except in October/November when huge flocks of cranes and snow geese fly in to the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge: http://www.friendsofthebosque.org/. But as a local, I know the special sites nearby. Hikes can take you out in the desert or up to the mountains, visiting native petroglyphs or hunting for fossils. Hundreds of rock climbing routes provide adventures for anyone, beginners to experts. Plus, you have a good chance of seeing unusual wildlife, from roadrunners to foxes to great horned owls.
In my treasure hunting adventure, The Mad Monk’s Treasure, the heroine and her best friend hunt for the lost Victorio Peak treasure, a real Southwest legend about a heretic Spanish priest’s gold mine, made richer by the spoils of bandits and an Apache raider. I drew on personal experiences hiking in the desert for Erin and Camie’s adventures – though fortunately I’ve never stumbled on a rattlesnake nest or gotten caught in a flash flood!
Jemez Springs: This small town in the mountains of northwestern New Mexico is known for its hot springs. You can also visit the ruins of an old Spanish church; Soda Dam, a cool rock formation formed from the mineralized water flowing in the river; and Battleship Rock, so named because it resembles the prow of a battleship. (Pictures on my Pinterest page: http://www.pinterest.com/krisbockbooks/counterfeits-art-theft-romantic-suspense/.)
I’ve attended many writing retreats at a camp north of the town, and those experiences inspired Counterfeits. Of course, in the book, the site isn’t quite so relaxing. When Jenny inherits a children’s art camp, she discovers that her grandmother’s death might not have been an accident after all. The men who killed her grandmother are searching for stolen paintings, and they think Jenny and her old friend Rob, the camp cook, are involved. Doing research at a real camp tucked away in the woods, and hiking above Battleship Rock for a scene where Jenny gets lost, helped the setting feel realistic.
Hovenweep National Monument: http://www.nps.gov/hove/index.htm: This one is not actually in New Mexico, but it’s close. Located on the southern border between Colorado and Utah, these ruins once housed 2500 people between A.D. 1200 and 1300. It’s one of many sites left behind by the ancestral Puebloans, also known as the Anasazi. It’s a small site, but that’s part of its charm, as you can hike and camp without crowds.
In my romantic suspense Whispers in the Dark, my heroine is an archaeology Masters student working at the fictional “Lost Valley” monument, which is closely based on Hovenweep. The lonely location allows for an almost Gothic atmosphere – mysterious lights in the canyon, spooky moaning sounds, and plenty of people hiding secrets.
Lincoln County: What We Found is loosely based the mountain resort town of Ruidoso. The forested town at nearly 7000 feet elevation is not what most people probably imagine when they think of New Mexico. Yet it seemed like the perfect place for the story of Audra, a young woman who stumbles on a dead body in the woods. More than one person isn’t happy about her bringing the murder to light, and in a small town, it’s hard to avoid people who wish you ill.
What We Found was inspired by the true experience of finding a body, as I described in this blog post: http://www.krisbock.com/blog.htm?post=873063. I also spent time with a man who raises falcons and hawks (photos on my Pinterest page: http://www.pinterest.com/krisbockbook...), and that comes into play in the story. It’s real-life adventures like these, both good and bad, that make New Mexico a great place for a writer!
Kris Bock writes novels of suspense and romance involving outdoor adventures and Southwestern landscapes. In Counterfeits, stolen Rembrandt paintings bring danger to a small New Mexico town. Whispers in the Dark features archaeology and intrigue among ancient Southwest ruins. What We Found is a mystery with strong romantic elements about a young woman who finds a murder victim in the woods. The Mad Monk’s Treasure follows the hunt for a long-lost treasure in the New Mexico desert. In The Dead Man’s Treasure, estranged relatives compete to reach a buried treasure by following a series of complex clues. Read excerpts at www.krisbock.com or visit her Amazon page. Read excerpts at www.krisbock.com, visit her Amazon page: http://www.amazon.com/Kris-Bock/e/B006WV4I5O/, or sign up for the Kris Bock newsletter: http://eepurl.com/5Dd_f.
Visit the Southwest Armchair Traveler blog for weekly post on Southwestern travel, culture, recipes, books and more: http://swarmchairtraveler.blogspot.com/
November 5, 2015
Renaissance Faire
I set my time travel romance books at the renaissance faire because I’m a faire person, through and through.
My dad took me to my first faire when I was ten, and I was hooked! I loved playing pretend with ten thousand adults who all wore costumes. Like a giant Halloween party. The joust with the horses all in costume. The jugglers, fire eaters, and sword swallowers. Queen Elizabeth in her big poofy purple gown with her face powdered in white and a huge crown on her head, waving from the chair that twenty men carried her around in.
My love of the faire grew over the years.
In my teens, I loved pretending I was the heroine in one of the fantasy novels I loved to read and running around with friends pretending to be the Three Musketeers. All my geek and nerd friends were into the faire. It was something we bonded over and enjoyed together. All of our birthday parties were at faire or at restaurants that reminded us of the faire or themed with the faire at home or at places like Medieval Times.
In my twenties, I worked at the faire as an actor and spent the night there. That’s when I drank in the secret parties and night shows that Emily and Vange discover in my first book. I also learned there about the modern pagans / druids who provide the paranormal / magical / time travel aspect in my books.
Now in my fifties, I’m on Facebook with all my faire friends from thirty years ago.
It’s incredible how many celebrities we can name that participated in the faires with us! Martin Sheen, Emilio Estevez, Sean Penn, Rob Lowe, Bob Dylan, Cher, Wil Wheaton…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pk-u-Viexk8&app=desktopYeah, we complain that the renfaire of today has lost its focus on historical re-enactment and lets everyone be pirates or fairies. But that’s because someone needs to provide the background for all the fairies and pirates!
Check out our Facebook photo archive projects for Phyllis Patterson’s original Renaissance Pleasure Faires in Northern and Southern California and see for yourself how authentic we looked back in the 1970s and 1980s at Paramount Ranch and Black Point Forest.
https://www.facebook.com/groups/168740645761/https://www.facebook.com/groups/193688500551/
Renaissance Faire by Jane Stain
Amazon
When kilted highlander Dall invites Emily up on stage at the renaissance faire for some Scottish dancing, the butterflies in her stomach are not from stage fright. She's in graduate school to be a drama teacher.
But Dall doesn't have a cell phone. He doesn't seem to know what one is. And no one will let Emily ask him about that. It's like the whole faire is guarding some big secret that has to do with him never breaking character.
October 10, 2015
What She Knows
I always writers are born, not made, and at the very ripe age of 7, I knew I was going to be a writer. I had just received a picture based on my current movie obsession, Dick Tracy. It was the first picture book I read all on my own. That was the beginning of the end for me.
2. How long have you been writing?I’ve been professional writing for thirteen years, but as writing is in my nature, it’s more like forever.
3. How did you pick the genre you write in?I read voraciously as a child, and only when I began to understand how much books costs did I realize the predicament I put my parents in. I grew up in the sticks without a handy public library, so my dad’s solution was to buy boxes of books at auctions for $1. The boxes were always filled with romance novels, historical and contemporary. I fell in love with the books that I had available to me, and that was what determined what genres I’d write in.
4. Do you plot or do you write by the seat of your pants?I’m a huge plotter! The first present my husband ever gave me was a whiteboard for plotting. Talk about romance!
5. What was the best writing advice someone gave you?Keep writing. While you have one manuscript out on submission, get started on the next one. One may be rejected, but then you can always say, well, I have two more.
6. What authors do you admire?I admire Diana Gabaldon for her tenacity at sticking with such a series and keeping it straight! I accidentally wrote a 5 book series, and I had definitely lost track of some things by the end of it.
7. What’s your favorite thing about your book?There’s a lot of me in this book, and I don’t often get a chance to write about things I’ve encountered personally. I hope some of the aspects of the heroine’s character will help other women in similar situations.
8. What would you like to learn to do that you haven’t?Play the drums! My grandfather was a drummer in a swing band in the ‘40s, and I was given his drumsticks. It’s only a matter of time…
9. What is your favorite writing reference book and why?Save the Cat. I tend to get sucked into analyzing movies, and they are a great learning tool for understanding aspects of writing. Cannot recommend Blake Snyder’s beat sheet enough.
10. Where do you write?I write on my couch covered in Basset hounds. I’m not kidding. They like to think they’re helping.
Blurb:
His latest problem is her newest assignment.
Shannon Wynter has it all figured it. Abandoned by her mother and left to care for her agoraphobic father, Shannon focuses on building her career as a journalist to the detriment of all else including her love life.
Ian Darke has his own problems. Battling past failures, Ian sets his eyes on launching a new factory for his father’s defense firm. But it’s the very father he failed that will do anything to sabotage Ian’s progress.
And when Shannon follows an anonymous tip that leads her to Ian’s factory door, the last thing she expects to discover is what she already knows.
Purchase links:Amazon: http://amzn.to/1IAMgPa
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1SWp4R9
iBooks: http://apple.co/1KM3YWs
Google Play: http://bit.ly/1M6StJw
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1DnqC4F
All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/1IHyZsj
About the Author:
In the second grade, Jessie began a story about a duck and a lost ring. Two harrowing pages of wide ruled notebook paper later, the ring was found. And Jessie has been writing ever since.
Armed with the firm belief that women in the Regency era could be truly awesome heroines, Jessie began telling their stories in her Spy Series, a thrilling ride in historical espionage that showcases human faults and triumphs and most importantly, love.
Jessie makes her home in the great state of New Hampshire where she lives with her husband and two very opinionated Basset Hounds. For more, visit her website at jessieclever.com.
Social Media Links:Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1foelMH
Twitter: http://bit.ly/1IM6UPJ
Google+: http://bit.ly/1rpRvsU
Pinterest: http://bit.ly/KZQ4TQ
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/1fge8x9
October 9, 2015
Love that Villain
A very strange thing happened while writing my second book in the Rowena series… I appear to have fallen for my villain.
Yes, Thane is the hero, and Rowena is smitten with him, as she should be. But her literary creator has become more and more enamoured with bad boy Cedric – the villain of the piece. Cedric is determined to have Rowena to himself, and he will stop at nothing to get her, including selling his soul to Lucifer. Cedric messes with the black arts.
Cedric can mess with me anytime.
How the heck did this happen? I set out to write a fun and sexy adventure, with good guys and bad guys and spunky heroines. Love that Rowena. She’s everything I would like to be. Thane is a terrific match for her; strong, smart, loyal, handsome, and the King to boot. Arch enemy of Cedric of course.
And what about Cedric? He’s not as good looking as Thane. He probably isn’t as smart. His morals are questionable – maybe nonexistent. But he is cunning. He is dynamic. He is never, ever boring.
Cedric is the typical bad boy.
What it is about men who don’t fit the typical hero mode, but ‘bother’ us, somehow? That’s how Rowena puts it. “I didn’t like his looks – they bothered me.” Cedric has long red-gold hair. His eyes are green, and they have an eerie glow when he uses magic. He’s tall, broad and thoroughly masculine, with bands of muscles on his arms. And he draws her like a moth to fire…
Exciting, that’s the word. The bad boys in our past made us feel like we were alive. Living on the edge has its attractions…
So Thane may be the ideal man for Rowena, and for many woman. But Cedric will always be there, in the back of her mind, tempting…promising something that will take her beyond the ordinary, something delicious, enticing…
Damn, that’s attractive. I can’t kill him off.
ROWENA THROUGH THE WALL“Is that a broadsword on your belt, or are you just glad to see me?”
When Rowena falls through her classroom wall into a medieval world, she doesn’t count on being kidnapped – not once, but twice, dammit – and the stakes get higher as the men get hotter. Unwanted husbands keep piling up; not only that, she has eighteen-year-old Kendra to look out for, and a war to prevent. Good thing she can go back through the wall when she needs to…or can she?
“Hot and Hilarious!” Midwest Book Review“Outlander meets Sex and the City” Vine Review
Bio:
The Toronto Sun called her Canada’s “Queen of Comedy.” Library Journal compared her to Janet Evanovich. Melodie Campbell has over 40 short story publications, 9 novels and 10 awards. Rowena Through the Wall, included in this collection, was an Amazon Top 100 Bestseller, putting her ahead of both Nora Roberts and Diana Gabaldon for a magical time.
www.melodiecampbell.comSeptember 20, 2015
Writers Should Get Paid
This is a glorious fisk.
Kind of like a non-writer friend of mine standing in my kitchen at my birthday celebration spouting off that she thought ghostwriting fiction was wrong. Which his how I make my money sometimes.
Fisking the HuffPo, because writers need to GET PAID
