Nancy Gideon's Blog, page 16

WeWriWa . . . A Kiss isn’t just a Kiss . . . MIDNIGHT TEMPTATION

“What do you think about vampires?”
Not exactly what you’d expected to be asked in a swanky New York dining room by your new editor. But the second he asked, I had one quick answer.
“I LOVE them!” Soooo much I had a three-book verbal phone pitch for him in less than an hour, and on his desk in writing when he returned to work from that conference on Monday. He bought all three in what would stretch out to a nine-book series with three different publishers and a hoard of rabid readers. Take a bite out of Book Two: MIDNIGHT TEMPTATION.
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo Books | iBooksPublished: August 14, 2015Length: 256 PagesAdd to Goodreads TBR→

Marchand wasn’t exactly sure what happened. One moment she was all clinging vulnerability and the next, her purpose shifted aggressively. Grasping fingers began a hard kneading pressure along the muscles of his back and shoulders while her supple body pressed against him. He almost pulled away—not because he didn’t like it, but because it was such an unexpected change.
Her breathing stroked along the side of his neck in light, panting whispers. He held his own suspended then it gusted out in an explosive sigh when he felt the first soft brush of her lips there, just below his ear, followed by the lingering rasp of her tongue. Her fingers had come up to rub along his jaw in a demanding passion, then clamped with a paralyzing sharpness into the cording on the other side of his neck. In a brief spike of surprise, he realized he couldn’t move. Then he didn’t want to.
(. . . and a tasty bite more . . .)
He forgot about struggle. He wasn’t thinking about making love to her, or even of how to respond to what she was doing. He was lost, hypnotized by the seducing caress of her breath upon his throat. Beneath the urgent press of her mouth, his pulse was lulled into a seductive sluggishness. He was aware of his eyes closing, of the world darkening. Mon Dieu, was he going to swoon?
Suddenly, Nicole shoved away from him, forcing him to scramble for balance. He shook his head, trying to free his mind from its odd lethargy.
“No,” she cried out in anguish. “I won’t. I can’t.”

Ever since Bela Lugosi scared me witless as a child and Barnabas Collins had me swooning as a teen, vampires were my go-to fantasy. A chance to write about them . . . as romantic heroes?! YES! Paranormal romance had just become the “new thing” in the early ‘90s and I jumped onboard with the “Touched by Midnight” vampire series. The first three books through Zebra were followed by reissues of that trio and seven more original titles with ImaJinn/BelleBooks. Not only did I get to continue the series, but I also got to continue with the same characters in new books (which was another taboo broken!) carrying them into a new century (hey, they’re immortal, after all!). I LOVED the ‘90s! And I loved being courted by one of the first indie publishers as a lead author!
Who says a buried and dead series can’t come back to life?!
Hey . . . is that sunshine streaming in through my office window? It’s been glooming for so long, I’m blinking like a bear coming out of hibernation. And it’s getting up into the 60s later today! May be time to get out the cat leashes . . . so the wind doesn’t blow them away! But first, off to visit your posts!
Happy Creeping Up on Spring!!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
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IWSG: Regrets Only (. . . get in the way!)

Coulda.Shoulda.Woulda. Do I have regrets about my writing career? You betcha!
Most of those hindsight moments came early on, when I believed I should only be listening to those I’d hired to advise me. One of my first agents (a bad one, which is worse than none at all!) was overly hesitant to make waves, holding me back with safe projects that would continue to fill her pockets instead of enhancing my career. I already had an awesome editor whom I loved to work with, but the agent kept insisting I follow her cautious advice instead of the path my editor and I had already decided upon, and worse, didn’t do what she said she would, purposefully creating tension where none had existed. Long story short, I took her advice (I was paying for it, after all!) instead of going with my gut, and her interference kept me from jumping onto a lucrative path. Instead, I got mired down on a safe road that led nowhere. That missed opportunity still haunts me, making me wonder where I could have gone had I listened to my instincts. But I did learn an important lesson: No one has as much at stake in your career as you do!
That said, I’ll admit, I haven’t always made the wisest choices. But I have no one else to blame for them. I took the risks and accepted the consequences, good or bad, without regrets or blame. And I learned from them. I’m okay with that. Regrets breed bitterness if not addressed, and that is something a career cannot overcome. So, don’t bemoan what you coulda done. Don’t beat yourself up over what you shoulda done. Don’t fixate on what woulda happened if only . . .
There’s only the next step, the next choice, the next path. So make sure it’s the one you want, need, and deserve to be travelling. In this brand-new year, that’s the advice I plan to follow!

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time.The awesome co-hosts for the March 2nd posting of the IWSG will be Janet Alcorn, Pat Garcia, Natalie Aguirre, and Shannon Lawrence!
Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!
Twitter hashtag is #IWSG
 Click Here → 
To join the IWSG Blog Hop and view the List of Hop Participants!
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WeWriWa: A Family Emergency . . . LIFETIME INVESTMENT $0.99 S*A*L*E!

Nothing brings a family together faster than an emergency situation. You struggle to stay calm while seeking all available information. Nothing else matters beyond getting that loved one the help they need . . . no matter what it takes. That’s where the separated by misunderstanding then by miles couple in my Dana Ransom contemporary romance, LIFETIME INVESTMENT, find themselves in this out in the middle of nowhere scene.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo BooksPublished: September 30, 2014Length: 178 PagesAdd to Goodreads TBR→

Rainwater glazed an already slick trail. Wyatt was a veteran hiker, and the corrugated bottoms of his boots were made to provide the best traction, but neither of those facts protected against a pre­occupied mind or a careless misstep. And a rocky path was unforgiving.
He felt his foot give on a patch of uneven stone. Immediately, Wyatt shifted his weight to compensate, but he was a second too late, a heartbeat too slow. His heel skidded on wet earth even as he twisted to catch himself, but down he went as Beth’s briefcase undercut him; left foot going straight out ahead of him, right leg angling behind as he hit with jarring force. The sound was like a rake handle snapping in two. He was slow to associate it with his awkward descent . . . until he tried to move . . . until he tried to untangle the unnatural bend of his body.
“Wyatt? Are you all right?”
His voice was faint with surprise.
“I broke my leg.”

I loved writing this book as one of four contemporaries originally published by Zebra/Kensington then reissued by BelleBooks. It’s filled with personal knowledge (like riding Chicago elevators with editor bosses, hiking in the wilds of Michigan in woefully inadequate footwear, helping an injured recalcitrant male when they don’t think they need it, and discussing float planes with an eager pilot friend). And I especially enjoyed pig-backing research done for an earlier UP book (Upper Peninsula to those not familiar with my home state). I love recycling – information and experiences. And books!
As a mother of two boys and grandmother of one, I’ve always managed to keep a level head in stressful situations, but when a pet is involved . . . Like a sick baby, they can’t tell you what’s wrong and don’t understand you’re just trying to help when you force icky meds down their throat. I’ve spent a fretful week with a sick kitty (a four-year-old boy who is strong as a fanged and clawed ox and yet still very much a baby). Having gone through kidney stones with the ex and already one bout of urinary stones with this little guy, I’m a pro at delivering meds and tough love but you never get used to not being able to take the pain away. After that first nearly $400 emergency pet visit to an unfamiliar clinic, sitting in a 20-degree car for two and a half hours listening to my son’s heavy metal (which I don’t really mind) because we couldn’t go inside, I’m hoping the upcoming recheck will be under more pleasant circumstances.

Taking a break to see what you’ve been up to before heading to my “work desk” (which is actually on the other side of my office but sounds important) to get to the halfway mark on my W-I-P romantic suspense. Then, it’s off to do more kitty cuddling! Happy Almost March!!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
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WeWriWa: Brothers at Arms . . .The Men of Pride County

Another publisher . . . another pen name. As another industry crash sent authors scrambling for new homes, as Lady Luck, bless her heart, would have it, I bumped into a former assistant editor during a publishing party in New York while at a conference and while catching up, discovered she was at a different house and was now an acquiring editor at Avon looking for authors. Her first advice to me, “Get an agent and have her come talk to me. I’d love to work with you again.” No sweeter words had this author ever heard! For an historical author, Avon was gold standard and I hoped I’d struck it rich with a new name, Rosalyn West. Especially when after two books, I was asked to do a series. I wanted to stick to the West (great PR tie in with my new pseudonym slug line: “Go West for Romantic Adventure!”) where my previous books were set, but they wanted to take a new direction in an underdeveloped part of the county, to those middle states where wounds were healing after a devastating war. And “The Men of Pride County” came to life, where characters were laced between all four books as they recovered their own places in a home still divided by the past. Book One: The Outcast set the stage . . .
Amazon KindlePreview Book

Tears didn’t come, though his anguish crested. He guessed he was all cried out by the end of the second year of war because after that, he’d stopped feeling things . . . after Jonah. He thought coming back to the Glade would wake those dormant emotions, the tender one that had no place on the battlefield, but he was as empty inside as the cabin behind him, no life or love left in either of them.
He was wrong about that he realized the second he glanced up from his mother’s grave.
Patrice stood, still and startled. With the aura of the sun framing her in hazy gossamer, for a moment, he doubted his vision, then slowly, one by one, the blossoms she held clutched to her bosom began to fall.
And a whole flood of sensation surged through him, a tidal wave of emotion, the rip and ebb of them tearing his control to pieces.
He’d imagined their meeting so many times, it was etched upon his heart and mind, but when confronted with the reality, each tiny discrepancy caused a confusing shock to his senses.
She’d aged.
(. . . and a bit more . . .)
His memories were so sure, so strong; that picture of her clinging with a prideful disdain to Jonah’s arm as he rode off to join the Federal army. She’d been furious with him, hadn’t even said goodbye. There were so many pleasant slices of the past he could have held to, but that was the moment he remembered right down to the detailing on her frothy blue day dress . . . because he feared he would never see her again.
Or that the next time he did, she’d be another man’s wife.
He’d been wrong on both counts.
He’d seen her again at Jonah’s burial.

       

All four books are still available in Kindle format, with Book One a $1.99 introduction!
At the same time I was writing for Avon, an author friend was developing her own independent publishing company, one of the very first to break away from New York. ImaJinn Books stepped in to fill that empty void for lovers and writers of paranormal romance and she asked me to become one of her launch authors . . . More on that next week!
We’re rather cold-, ice-, and snow-bound this weekend going into Valentine's Day (9-degrees up to a whooping 19!) and had to postpone a get-together with the family. Good thing we’re stocked up with snacks for the Super Bowl and Olympic Games! Shawn White . . . sigh. My hero for four Olympics. And now I have Nathan Chen to take over for him since this was Shawn’s last ride. Who are you rooting for if you’re watching?
Wishing you Hearts, Roses and Chocolate!

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
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WeWriWa: Nothing to Give . . . Temptation’s Trail

When asked who their favorite character is from all the books they’re written, most writers will hesitate to commit to one above all others. But me, naw! I know who my favorite is—one I enjoyed so much, I wrote a five-book series just so I could bring him back again and again in a strong secondary role. Harmon Bass is a half-Apache tracker from the unforgiving wilds of West Texas – a dime novel legend who makes Eastern heiress, Amanda Duncan’s imagination (and heart!) run wild. Until she discovers the man she’s hired to find her missing brother, falls “short” of her expectations. Until, unexpectedly, they find a kindred soul in one another. Amanda knows she’s found her forever love. Harm needs more convincing . . .

He didn’t owe her anything else. Once she paid up, there was no reason for him to stick around, no reason for him to care one way or another what she did. Let her pretend her brother was some saint who couldn’t be tempted by the greed that was a part of every man’s soul. That wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t up to him to help her grow up. The man was dead. Now she could go home and get on with her fancy life and brush him off like the dust of Texas.
So why couldn’t he shake off her look of desolation?
Because he knew all about being lonely and alone, and he couldn’t bear the thought of Amanda being adrift like that.
(…and a bit more)
There were so few people who could touch upon what little softness was left inside him. Somehow, the silly little eastern girl had become one of them. He’d seen the look in her eyes back at the stream, that look that promised heart and soul, and it quite plainly had scared him to death. He couldn’t come close to giving her what she wanted from him. He had nothing left to give. He’d turned away from those things fourteen years ago, forging his future in sweat and pain in the way of the Apache. He’d been taught that a display of gentleness was unmanly, that to hunger for a woman showed a lack of self-discipline, which was a despised flaw. A man went about with men and did not crave the company of a female. 
The way he craved Amanda’s.

All five books – TEMPTATION’S TRAIL, TEXAS DESTINY ,  WILD TEXAS BRIDE, TEXAS RENEGADE and SWEET TEXAS DREAMS, books that earned me a Career Achievement award – have been long out of print. Good news is – I have the rights back and can get them back into readers’ hands . . . after I send them off to be torn down, rescanned, and formatted into usable files (I typed the originals from handwritten drafts in the early 1990s to submit the manuscripts!). Good thing there are companies that anticipate the need for such work. Now, to decide which I want to go with . . . and while I wait, it’ll be NEW cover time!! But then there’s nothing like visiting the Wild West while it’s 9-degrees outside and the car is an ice-encased igloo!
What’s up with you in your writing? Can’t wait to find out . . .

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
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IWSG: Under the Influence . . . of a Great Mentor

Our topic for February is: “Is there someone who supported or influenced you that perhaps isn’t around anymore? Anyone you miss?”
After being in the writing biz for almost 35 years (!), I owe a lot of people a lot of things, especially the members of my critique group who’ve always encouraged, inspired, and sometimes kicked my butt when I needed it. But I never would have met any of them if not for one special person, someone who saw an article in our local paper in July of 1987 about a romance writer working at home with two preschoolers underfoot.

When she invited me to be a speaker at a local Romance Writers of America meeting, I had never met another writer, had never shared my work with someone. Orysia Earhart introduced me to My People! More than that, she became critiquer, idea sounding board, as well as chauffeur, dragging me all over the state to writing events and book signings (me, the confirmed hermit!). She introduced me to the core group that would become my PoTL critique group. And then . . . she moved. Not just across the state, but across the country! To Seattle for her husband’s job! This was long before online chats or Zoom or any kind of social media at all. There was email (in its infant stage) and long-distance calls that became fewer and farther between. Until there was just silence. I continued as a writer, growing from those baby steps she pushed me to make. She’d stopped. And we lost touch.
You never forget that first kindred soul who “gets you.” But sometimes you forget how important an influence they had on your life. Thanks, IWSG for reminding me! And thanks OBEwan, for being there when I needed that push!
Because my writer friends taught me how to be pushy when it comes to my work (normally, I prefer to hide in my office getting lost in my current chapter), I’ll toot my own horn about a February sale (and a great belated Valentine’s Day gift for the romantic in your life!) . . .

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo BooksPublished: September 30, 2014Length: 178 PagesAdd to Goodreads TBR→
Now, I’m off to enjoy your answers . . . Happy Writing!!

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group
Purpose: To share and encourage. Writers can express doubts and concerns without fear of appearing foolish or weak. Those who have been through the fire can offer assistance and guidance. It’s a safe haven for insecure writers of all kinds!
Posting: The first Wednesday of every month is officially Insecure Writer’s Support Group day. Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer - aim for a dozen new people each time.The awesome co-hosts for the February 2nd posting of the IWSG will be Joylene Nowell Butler, Jacqui Murray, Sandra Cox, and Lee Lowery!
Let’s rock the neurotic writing world!
Twitter hashtag is #IWSG
 Click Here → 
To join the IWSG Blog Hop and view the List of Hop Participants!
Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group
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WeWriWa: A Series of Fortunate Events Begins . . . DAKOTA DAWN

WeWriWa: A Series of Fortunate Events Begins . . . DAKOTA DAWN 

After a string of unrelated historical romances, something new began along with the ‘90s. Something I grabbed onto with gusto. Big, bold connected historical books in a series had become a “thing” and I couldn’t WAIT to be apart of it. And thanks to an ambitious new agent and a new editor, Zebra took my books to the next level, continuing as Dana Ransom and starting with DAKOTA DAWN , Book one of four in a post Civil-War series set in the wilds of the Dakota territory. Here’s a sample of the first meeting between two characters: rugged mountain man, Ethan Prescott and fiery rancher’s daughter, Aurora Prescott, who would anchor the four-book series for their offspring. . . Scott, a half-Lakota lawyer with an Eastern fiancé and Rory, a roughneck rancher in love with a swindler’s daughter.

“How did I get here?’
“Why ma’am it certainly weren’t by my invitation,” the big man drawled as he bent down near the fire. There was no mistaking the displeasure in his tone. “Couldn’t very well leave you out there on the trail, though it cost me a winter’s worth of furs to tote you here.”
That surly admission raised a flicker of temper from a soul she’d thought too worn to respond. It wasn’t as though she’d demanded he make the sacrifice or had purposefully fallen in his path to freeze, although his annoyance would suggest he believed it was so. His sullenness required a reply, one she returned with a brittle snap of pride.
“I am sorry you do not feel a human life worth the exchange, but I’m glad for your momentary lapse. I’ll see you’re remunerated for the loss as soon as I—as soon as I am able.”
Remunerated. A fine five-dollar word if he ever heard one.
(and a bit more . . .)
Gold . . . her eyes were gold, not green or blue or brown, but a pure prairie gold, as rich as the grasses ripening in the fall, as rare as the metal sought in the Hills. Basked in firelight, the combination of hair and eyes quickened the image of something molten, running hot like liquid flame, tempting but ready to scorch the unwise. He looked ahead with a feeling of panic to the days and nights they’d be forced to keep such close quarters, thanking God for her burgeoning state, or in his daze of long suppressed desires he might have been tempted to risk the heat. That shocked him no little bit, for he always considered himself a gentleman, even in this place that lay beyond the reach of civilization.
She sat quietly, watching the plays of passion move over his face the way seething storm clouds boiled over the mountain peaks above, and she was frightened by what she saw there. She clutched at the robe, hiding her fears behind an impassive face, just as she’d been schooled to do. Had she gone from one desperate situation to another?

A western junkie, thanks to my dad, these books were a pure joy to research and write. And they came at time when author promotions became another BIG “thing.” More on that next week as I move from forest wilds to Texas wastelands . . .
Still struggling to get in those pages on my W-I-P. Time for some tough love!
How’s your word count going?

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...

WeWriWa: Paging Through the Past . . . Where it Began (Historically Speaking)

Once the doors of romance were thrown open to the publishing world, (as detailed in the above interview by my local KALAMZOO GAZETTE July 29, 1987) I was off and writing! One pen name couldn’t contain my output (written by hand and typed on an electric typewriter using correction tape back then!!). I was now Dana Ransom (a baby name my then husband had wanted to use, combined with my mom’s family name), an at home mom with a preschooler when I got that first call and was asked what else I had besides my first contracted regency (see last ). I had three other completed manuscripts, still untyped, to pitch – two historical romances were snapped up on nearly impossible deadlines . . . one being the same date as expected Kid #2! Between August ’87 and June ’91, I had seven historicals debut in Zebra’s brand new Heartfire line, their pages filled with passionate pirates, riverboat gamblers, and tropical plantation owners. I hit lists and won national awards, especially for self-promotion, which was a brand-new thing back then. I was officially living the dream. I felt like a character in one of my books...

The rhythmic slap of huge paddles churned the muddy waters of the Mississippi into foam as the steamer glided along the first leg of its twenty-four-day round-trip packet between St. Louis and New Orleans. Alone at the rail, a slender girl stared dreamily down into the confusion of the river that boiled yellow-white beneath the graceful passage of the ship. The slight smile curving the gentle mouth of Gloria Daniels made her look even less than her eighteen years as she stood lost to her musings, her gray eyes wistful. Perhaps it was the childlike way she hugged the rail, her slippered foot swinging idly beneath full skirts, that made her appear so young, but there was another quality as well. Her heart-shaped face shone with it. There was a guileless purity to Gloria Daniels; her eyes lit with untried enthusiasm; her lips parted with vulnerable sweetness to breathe in the intoxicating newness of everything around her; creamy complexion as smooth as a babe’s and unflawed by lines of knowledge. The exaggerated width of her bonnet brim over flaxen curls and the ballooning sleeves of her simple gown emphasized the diminutive size of the figure within, suggesting a small girl dressed up in her mother’s clothes.
Gloria would have cringed had she known the image she projected. The last thing she wanted was to appear an ignorant Minnesota farm girl who had taken her first steps away from home.
(and more . . .)
She sighed as fanciful thoughts flew ahead to New Orleans. The anticipation of seeing her first real city set her imagination afire. When dreaming of her heart’s desire, she ceased to be the only daughter of Tom Daniels, a plain, hardworking farmer. She no longer wore the dowdy, out-of-fashion gowns that filled her trunk. She would be dressed in silks and jewels. She would be one of the regal, sophisticated women who promenaded on a gallant arm, and no one would mistake her for a child. She would be someone, someone important, someone who demanded notice, who enticed with a sultry glance and broke hearts with an indifferent pout. And she would find romance in the exclusive saloons of “Little Paris”, a romance to equal the passion of her lonely, isolated dreams.

Glory Daniels, from my third novel, LOVE’S GLORIOUS GAMBLE, was also naïve when it came to the future. I’d expected the moon and got a second-tier spot in Zebras shorter new Heartfire line, with a sliver of the print run of the Hologram historicals. Fame wasn’t instantaneous, but I did have a spot on the bookshelves (back when they had two book stores in every mall and huge sections in every grocery chain), some great reviews, an industry award, and momentum when I was invited up to the Big Show (coming in next week’s post). I was moving on up . . .

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...

WeWriWa: New Year Recap – By Any Other Name: Lauren Giddings

WeWriWa: New Year Recap – By Any Other Name: Lauren Giddings

A New Year is a time to reflect on times past, so that’s what I’m going to do for the next few weeks – look back upon the path taken since my first publication in 1987, through the various pseudonyms/genres I’ve worked my way through. Though pen names make you feel like a secret agent concealing your own identity, it helped me get more books out per year through various publishing houses . . . and after market crashes, rebuild my career several times over. But let’s start at the beginning . . . with that call from editor Carin Ritter at Zebra Books saying she wanted to buy my Regency-set historical. Here’s a taste...

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo BooksPublished: February 18, 2018Length: 424 PagesAdd to Goodreads TBR→

Calmly, Connor drew a primed pistol from the folds of his great coat, sighting down the barrel at the rapidly disappearing figures. His single shot was well placed. With a short cry, the second thief tumbled from the saddle. The horseman drew up, hesitating a moment before the sight of pursuing figures urged him to spur his mount away.
Pistol trained on the sprawled boy, Connor knelt, features harsh and without mercy. Only once had anyone robbed him, when he’d been reeling drunk and a blow to the head left him senseless in a muddy gutter on one cold night. Recalling that instance left little sympathy for the man he’d laid out.
The bullet had struck the footpad in the shoulder, leaving a darkening circle on the crude cloth coat. Cautiously, the assailant was rolled over, but he remained motionless. Connor pulled open his coat to view the bloody exit his shot had taken, then he placed his hand over the blackguard’s heart.
With a breath of surprise, Connor drew back in some confusion.
(and the rest . . .)
“Conn? What is it?” George asked, crouching down beside him. “Did you kill the wretch?”
Reluctantly, Connor reached up to tug loose the mask, then said hoarsely, “Damn, George, I’ve shot a woman!”

In 2018, Tell-Tale Publishing reissued long out of print SWEET TEMPEST w/a Lauren Giddings, updating the modest cover (which didn’t reflect the fact that it was a somewhat steamy historical not the chaste Regency readers were used to up to that point! Mine was one of the first sizzlers!) in a lush trade paperback edition and, for the first time in audio and e-format. What a difference 30years make!

Lauren Giddings (a pseudonym chosen at a moment’s notice by combining the girl’s name I would have used if I didn’t have two boys and the oft-mistaken spelling of my last name on junk mail) appeared only once more with The Bartered Bride in 1989. It was my final visit to that much-loved era as my Dana Ransom western historicals by the same publisher far outsold them. That’s business but writing these two books was my pleasure!
On to Dana Ransom next week . . . Until then, I hope you all are enjoying a happy, safe, and not as cold as my New Year! (1-degrees this morning!)

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...

WeWriWa: Have a Heart . . . A Risk-Taking Ranger

Some occupations just don’t mix with having a tender heart. Compassion is one thing, but more than that tends to get . . . sticky, as in this excerpt from my W-I-P, A RISK-TAKING RANGER.

“Why are you so afraid someone will think you actually have a heart?”
“Just doing a right thing to rectify one in a generation of wrongs.” When she had no comment on his altruistic goal, he cut a glance her way. “What, you don’t think they’re deserving of a break?”
She laughed at his abruptness. “I’d see them moved into that swanky neighborhood next door to the Baxter’s house and have his poor excuse for a human son cleaning their pool.”
A smile twitched over Zayn’s lips. Lips that were eager to get to some serious business atop the honorable Ms. Prescott’s at the first available opportunity. “Maybe you and I are both in the wrong business.”
“No. I think we’re right where we need to be.”

Empathy is something the main characters in my latest RomSusp can claim in spades – theirs having been kicked around since childhood and yet still strong enough to bear the burdens of others. The once abused Nora, now a child advocate, and abandoned child now Texas Ranger Zayn still carry the scars on their hearts as well as bodies. Working on the issues of other has helped them deal with those they fiercely suppress . . . until one wounded soul recognizes another.
I’m FINALLY back at the keyboard after a long holiday hiatus and getting back in sync with my characters. Hopefully, I’ll have NEW words to share very soon. Until then, I’m battening down for another round of battering Michigan winter . . . but hey, as long as I have electricity (or battery left) I’m content to let it snow!
How’s your New Year going so far?

Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! Share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of your writing on Sunday. Visit other participants on the list and read, critique, and comment on their #8sunday posts.
Spread the word, share the love, warriors - Hashtag #8sunday.
Nancy on the WebBlog | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Instagram | YouTube | Goodreads | AmazonGoodreads “Nancy Gideon by Moonlight” group!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="https://nancygideon.blogspot.com//pla...