Sara Daniel's Blog, page 31

Do Authors Manipulate Readers? #Regency and #RomanticSuspense author Vonnie Hughes Weighs In

Do Authors Manipulate Readers? by Vonnie Hughes
You bet they do! Authors know what buttons to push.

By ‘what buttons to push’ I mean what buttons do authors use to manipulate (yep, being honest) their readers’ emotions, to get them on side with the characters in their books. For example, perhaps the author creates unlikeable, evil antagonists and emphasizes the sterling qualities of his protagonists.

The most obvious ploy is the ticking clock. It not only lends urgency but it yanks the reader along at a rush, keeping him intrigued.

Then there’s characterization. Of course in this dynamic world, what worked ten years ago may not have the same appeal in 2014. The innocent 1960s virgin, so prevalent in romances of that time, would drive a reader from 2014 to drink. We are much more cynical, well-informed and downright demanding than we were then. Historically though, some classics retain their appeal because they are much more than the sum of their characters’ emotions. To Kill A Mockingbird’s racial tensions are still not outmoded today, and that lazy description of the syrupy south’s inbred attitudes is not far from the truth in some out-of-the-way places. And that is why books like these are classics. They endure not just because of the characters in the books but because of the settings and historical attitudes. And Harper Lee manipulated the readers’ emotions. Think of the way she pushes Scout’s lack of desire to be a ‘lady’ so that the reader is on Scout’s side.

Perhaps today’s writers manipulate the readers in more subtle ways. What of Dick Francis’s heroes who are often of the working class up against a criminal upper class or just up against class bigotry where he is on the outside looking in? Dick Francis does that so well that even if the protagonist is not your usual Everyman, the reader is still very much on his side. That’s right. The modern protagonist need not be a perfect hero as he has been in novels and movies of the past. Some have patchy backgrounds and they’ve made mistakes.

There’s Lee Child’s Jack Reacher who thrums a string in every male heart. They all want to be Jack with his freedom and lack of possessions but with an innate sense of responsibility. And of course Jack has been in the military and knows how to handle himself in vicious situations. Every man’s dream. There are a lot of wannabe Jacks out there. And Lee knows how to manipulate those readers.

Tami Hoag’s heroines are believably imperfect. They make mistakes and have hang-ups that readers can empathise with and they frequently have to form alliances with people they don’t trust. There’s that little brush of reality that lends credence to the stories.

So…empathy and sympathy are the buttons. And the harder those buttons are pushed by authors and movie makers, the more a reader/viewer becomes invested in the characters. We need to see how the protagonists get themselves out of a bind, or if the evil antagonists get their come-uppance. And the best books of all are where you know darned well that the author is pushing your buttons, but you just don’t care. The book is so good!

~Vonnie

Vonnie Hughes is a multi-published author in both Regency books and contemporary suspense. She loves the intricacies of the social rules of the Regency period and the far-ranging consequences of the Napoleonic Code. And with suspense she has free rein to explore forensic matters and the strong convolutions of the human mind. Like many writers, some days she hates the whole process, but somehow she just cannot let it go.

Vonnie was born in New Zealand, but she and her husband now live happily in Australia. If you visit Hamilton Gardens in New Zealand be sure to stroll through the Japanese Garden. These is a bronze plaque engraved with a haiku describing the peacefulness of that environment. The poem was written by Vonnie.

All of Vonnie’s books are available on Amazon .

Learn more about Vonnie Hughes on her website and blog . Stay connected on Facebook and Goodreads .

#MySexySaturday Are you sexy? #reunitedlovers #secondchance @DecadentPub

One Night With the Groom
“Blake.” Her heart bled as if she’d stabbed it with a pitchfork. She dropped her hand from her stomach to her side. “What are you doing here?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea.” His lips curved in a crooked smile.
Aching to wrap her arms around him, to kiss his sexy mouth, to soak in his presence while grinning at him like a fool, she took a step back. She might not be hallucinating, but his sudden appearance had the power to drive her over the edge of insanity and longing. Her heel caught on the threshold at the opening of the barn, and she stumbled.
He reached for her, but she steadied herself on the doorframe, holding out her other palm to ward him away. She couldn’t handle seeing him, let alone skin-on-skin contact.
“Give me a minute,” she begged. “I’m kind of shocked to see you.” Kind of, ha. Completely would have been an understatement.
His smile faded. “Good shocked or bad shocked?”
“I don’t know yet.”

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Read all the books in the One Night With the Bridal Party series:

One Night With the BrideOne Night With the BridesmaidOne Night With the GroomOne Night With the Best Man (coming 4/17/15)One Night With her Husband (coming 5/15/15)One Night With his Wife (coming 6/12/15)

Got Leftover Easter Eggs? Devil them! #recipe

I love to eat deviled eggs—as long as someone else makes them! But as I approached my fourth decade of life, I realized maybe I need to cross this item off my bucket list even though the creation seemed way too complicated and fancy. I’m a busy mom with a full-time writing job. When it comes to food, I don’t do complicated or fancy.

Last spring I had a bunch of leftover Easter eggs and a whole lot of company coming over. I needed my guests to eat those eggs, so they weren’t sitting in my fridge until Halloween! So I scoured recipes online (Thanks Google!) and simplified the simplest recipe. I haven’t figured out a way to simplify peeling hard boiled eggs, but once I got past that part, these eggs were easy-peasy to make.

Easy Deviled Eggs
1 dozen hard boiled eggs
1/3 cup mayonnaise
2 tsp. honey Dijon mustard
Paprika

Peel hard boiled eggs. (Muttering and cursing is optional, but I find the eggs respond better to threats and bad temper!)

Slice eggs lengthwise. Scoop yolks into a bowl. Mash yolks, mayonnaise, and mustard together.

Scoop mixture with a small spoon into egg white halves. (If you want to use some fancy thing to make pretty, complicated designs, knock yourself out!)

Sprinkle with paprika. Cover with cling wrap and store in the refrigerator until you're ready to serve.

"This Is No Joke" Campaign: Finding Mercy by @Dlaree69 #PTSD @DecadentPub

This is no joke. Every 65 minutes, a military veteran commits suicide. Guest Post by D.L. JacksonI'm going to be honest here. Finding Mercy took a lot out of me when I wrote it. I had so much to say and there was no other way I could think to show you what I felt. Finding Mercy is not a warm and fuzzy romance. It is a struggle for one man to learn to love again, himself, and someone else. It is a book about hope, when all seems hopeless. It is a book about choosing to step out of the dark, no matter how impossible it seems.Combat medics have a dangerous job, and part of that job is dragging wounded off hot battlefields. They have hearts for healing and helping, and because of this, cannot help collecting a few scars of their own, both physically and mentally.If you haven't read Finding Mercy, I’ll warn you, it probably has one of the most grisly battle scenes I've written. The hero is damaged—searching for peace and a way to start over. He is at a crossroads in his life that many vets face every day. He's in pain and a very dark place. He has a weakness for the bottle, desperate to drown memories he can't forget. For some readers, I've been told, the scenes are hard to stomach. What the hero goes through is too painful to read. I am aware I was pretty brutal to my hero, but I needed to paint a realistic portrait of the face of PTSD in our active duty military and veterans. This story has been called everything from graphically violent to an anti-romance.So be it. It got your attention. We cannot erase PTSD by pretending it doesn't exist. But we can move forward by supporting our military and vets, as they face those crossroads. Here’s  a link to some facts about veterans and active duty military featured on PBS, Public Broadcasting System: http://www.pbs.org/coming-back-with-wes-moore/about/facts/I’d like you to join me in raising some money for a great cause. I’ve asked my publisher to track all sales for this book for the month of April, May and June 2015. I’m not asking for reviews or a bump in the ratings. You don’t even have to like this book, but I hope you do. What I am asking, is that you buy this book April 1st- June 30th 2015, and share the link. It costs $2.99, the price of a cup of coffee. Not a huge chunk of change. We spend more than that on a salad or burger at any given time.Starting April 1st and running through June 30th, I will donate my total royalties from the sale of Finding Mercy, an erotic military romance, to a charity that helps military and veterans who suffer from PTSD. I have to be non-specific which charity, because of federal regulations. Buy the book, help a warrior. It’s that simple.  This is about something I strongly believe in. You see, I’m a vet. My husband is a vet. His grandfather served in the Navy in WWII, my father in the Air Force during Vietnam. My mother-in-law is a Marine, and both of my sons are active duty. My oldest is currently on his third deployment. My youngest, a Combat Medic, is preparing for his first.I’ve seen the face of PTSD. It belongs to our sons and daughters, wives and husbands, fathers and mothers, grandmothers and grandfathers. It is our neighbors, friends and co-workers.  It doesn’t discriminate, and it doesn’t just go away. Wounded vets need help.Help me, help them.KindleNookAll Romance eBooksSmashwordsThank you for your help,
D. L. Jackson

#CoverReveal Rain by @TarynKincaid #BeyondFairytales @DecadentPub

RAIN A Beyond Fairytales Story ByTaryn Kincaid
In a world gone mad, where little remains but a vast wasteland of sand, the leader of a troop of roving warriors welcomes a brave young woman into his midst.
Much as he burns for her, Major Clay Worthington swears to keep his distance from the mysterious woman, so sensitive even the stinging rain can wound her.
Rosina Brierly is besotted with the formidable soldier and will gladly trade her life for one torrid night of blissful passion in his arms.
But when sleep overcomes them, will true love prevail?

Coming in May 2015 from Decadent Publishing
www.tarynkincaid.com

FREE #kidlit #chapterbook April 3-5th from @BravestSquirrel #middlegrade

FREE April 3 - 5, 2015
on Kindle
The Bravest Squirrel: 3 Books in 1
As a special addition to The Bravest Squirrel family, The Bravest Squirrel Ever, The Bravest Squirrel in the Forest, and The Bravest Squirrel in School are now compiled in a special 3 in 1 print and Kindle book edition at a significant saving to buying all three books separately. In addition, if you are a member of Kindle Unlimited, you can download and read the digital version free!

The Bravest Squirrel: 3 Books 1


The Bravest Squirrel Ever: Scared of thunder, lightning and being "flopped" by the humans, Pippi the squirrel wants to return to her mama's warm, cozy nest. Instead, she and her siblings stumble on a better nest...in forbidden human territory. When she becomes trapped inside, Pippi must depend on her wits to survive, proving to herself and the world just how brave a little squirrel can be.

The Bravest Squirrel in the Forest : Max is determined to prove he is the bravest squirrel ever. He devises a plan to rescue his Uncle Louie. Instead, he is locked in cage, sprayed by a skunk, dumped out of a truck, and abandoned with a hungry coyote hot on his trail. Max has to give up being brave and beg others to help him. When he has the chance to save Uncle Louie or risk his life to save a friend, Max discovers just how brave he really is.

The Bravest Squirrel in School : Lana has no interest in being brave, but she would like to be cuddled by a human. She ends up in a school bus full of children with no other squirrel to take care of her. With no one coming to rescue her, Lana needs to stand up for herself against the playground bullies and figure out a way to get back home. If she’s not brave enough to rescue herself, she’ll be stuck in school forever.

Amazon - print and e-bookCreatespace (print)
Barnes & Noble (print)

The Road Leads Back ... and to Indie Publishing @MarciBoudreaux #newrelease

Guest Post by Marci Boudreaux
Thanks for having me, Sara!
As I’m making the rounds celebrating the April 3 release of The Road Leads Back, I am actually a wee bit shocked that I pulled this thing off.
I’m sure those authors who have self-pubbed several times are like, “pfft, so easy,” but for me, this presented a challenge. I never realized how much I relied on my publisher to ease the stress of putting a book release together.
I am perfectly capable of doing the design, the cover, finding a qualified editor, connecting for a blog hop, so this should have been a breeze, right? Wrong! It isn’t just the basic work, it’s the emotional ups and downs of finding errors after thinking it is perfect (the last error—at least as of this writing—was finding “bewtrayed” on the back cover after 40 print copies showed up on my door!), it’s the stress of wanting—no, needing—everything to be perfect, it’s the self inflicted pressure of doing everything right the first time. Or, maybe I just take myself too seriously and the rest of the authors who jump into self publishing can take these things in stride. Whatever it is, I wasn’t quite prepared for the stress of writing, editing, and releasing The Road Leads Back.
Even with all the blood, sweat, and tears (okay, maybe just tears), I am so proud of this book. There’s quite a story packed into these pages and I’m so happy to get to share it with you.


Blurb:
Kara Martinson and Harry Canton weren’t exactly high school sweethearts, but they did share one night neither will ever forget. Twenty-seven years later, Harry surprises Kara at an art gallery opening and discovers he left her with more than just memories when he went away to college. Desperate to connect with the family he never knew existed, Harry convinces his son to move to Stonehill—and pleads with Kara to come, too. Kara hasn’t stepped foot in their hometown since the day she was sent away to a home for unwed mothers. Now Harry’s back in her life and as they put together the pieces of their parents’ betrayal, old heartaches start to feel anew. She wants to be near her family, but returning to Iowa means facing some things…and some people…she isn’t quite ready to.Can Harry convince her to forgive the people who betrayed her so they can embrace the future they were robbed of so long ago? Or will the pain of the past be too much for Kara to overcome?
Excerpt:
Kara squeezed her way toward the crowded bar, nudging between two kids who she couldn’t quite believe were old enough to be legally drinking in public. Shouldn’t they be funneling cheap beer in a college dorm somewhere? Or sneaking shots from Daddy’s liquor cabinet?
Art gallery openings used to be much more sophisticated than this. When she was a young artist, openings were about appreciating the art and the artist, not the free booze.
Shit.
Had she really gone there? Kara shook her head at her bitter thoughts.
The bartender, a walking tattoo with spiked black hair, leaned close so she could hear him. “What’ll it be?”
She realized all she wanted was wine. And quiet. The kids around her were acting more like pre-teens jacked up on sugar than art aficionados. One made a face, squished and reddened, as he held up an empty shot glass as proof of his triumph.
She wondered when she had gotten so damned old. She never used to snub her nose at a good drink. Actually, she completely understood what her problem was, and it had nothing to do with age. She’d conformed. She’d fallen into line. She’d done what she was supposed to do. Agent? Check. Gallery opening? Check. Interviews with all the local fancy-pants magazines? Check.
But this wasn’t her. None of this was her.
Frowning, she leaned in as well, making sure he heard her over the jeering of the kids next to her. “Tequila.” Within seconds he set a glass in front of her and filled it with amber liquid. He started to walk away but she held up one hand and lifted the glass with the other. She downed the drink, slammed the glass down, and gestured for another—one shot wasn’t nearly enough to numb the misery of this evening.
The young man lifted his brows and smirked as he gav­­­e her another shot. He laughed as she motioned for him to fill the glass a third time. “I can’t do this all night, lady.”
“One more.”
“Some of the crap in here costs more than my car. No puking. Got it?”
Kara chuckled. Clearly he didn’t recognize her as the artist who had made the crap. “Honey, I was doing tequila shots before your daddy dropped his pants and made you.”
The barkeep threw his head back and laughed, then filled her glass one more time. “Nice one, babe.”
Babe? Kara snorted as she lifted the glass. It was almost to her lips when a hand squeezed her shoulder.
 “Kara?” asked a deep, smooth voice as if the man wasn’t certain who he was touching.
She turned. Her eyes bulged as she looked into an intense dark gaze she hadn’t seen since the night she’d lost her virginity.
The music had been loud, the beer lukewarm, and everybody who was anybody—and several nobody’s like Kara and Harry—in their senior class of Stonehill High was at the graduation party. The only person she had cared about, though, didn’t care about her. Or so she’d thought. Until she’d somehow ended up on Shannon Blake’s disgustingly pink- and ruffle-covered bed with Harry Canton, book club president and algebra superstar, clumsily removing her clothes, leaving slobbery kisses in their wake.
Kara swallowed hard as the flash of a memory faded, and the man standing before her, looking as shocked as she felt, came back into view.
She downed the liquor, slammed the glass against the bar, and sighed before she announced, “I’ve been looking for you for twenty-seven years.”
He sank onto the vacant stool next to her and lifted his hands as if he were at a loss for words. Something that appeared to be guilt filled his eyes and made his full lips sag into a frown. She’d be damned if temptation didn’t hit her as hard as it had when she was a hormonal teen.
“I wanted to tell you I was leaving,” he said, “but I didn’t know how.”
“You should have tried something like, ‘Kara, I’m leaving.’”
“You’re right. But I was a kid. I didn’t have a lot of common sense. All I could think about was how I finally had my freedom.”
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “You had your freedom? You selfish prick.”
His eyes widened. “Well, that might be a little harsh. I was just a kid, Kara. Yes, I should have told you I had no intention of staying with you, but I was a little overwhelmed by what had happened. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
Harry’s shoulders slumped, as if he had given up justifying sneaking out on her in the middle of the night. “Look, I saw a flier for your gallery opening, and I wanted to say hello. I thought maybe… I don’t know what I was thinking.” He sounded hurt, dejected even. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He stood. She put her hand to his chest and shoved him back onto the barstool. The move instantly reminded of her their one night together. All of seventeen and totally inexperienced, she’d fancied herself a seductress and pushed him on the bed before straddling his hips like she had a clue what she was doing.
Touching his chest now, warmth radiated through her entire body.
She glared, pulling her hand away and squeezing her fingers into a fist. “Are you living in Seattle?”
He shook his head. “I had a conference in town. There were fliers at the hotel. As soon as I saw your picture, I knew I had to come.” His smile returned and excitement oozed from his face. “I can’t believe you have a gallery opening. This is amazing, Kare.”
She wasn’t nearly as thrilled by her accomplishment as he seemed to be. She felt like she was selling her soul instead of her art. She’d always preferred to go the indie route, but that crap agent had cornered her at a particularly vulnerable moment and convinced her she needed him…just like he convinced her she needed to be in a gallery. Although, now she was glad she’d conceded on the open bar.
The tequila swirled through her, making her muscles tingle, preventing her from fully engaging the near-three decades of anger she’d been harboring. She had spent an awfully long time wanting to give Harry Canton a piece of her mind.
Even so, hearing him say she’d done something amazing warmed her in a way very little ever had. If he had come looking for another one-night stand, she hated to admit that she would consider reliving that night again—only this time with more sexual experience and less expectation of him sticking around.
He might be almost three decades older, but his face was still handsome and his brown eyes were just as inviting as they had been when he was a high school prodigy and she was a wallflower.
She smirked at a realization: he was in a suit, probably having just left a corporate meeting, while she was wearing a red sari-inspired dress at her gallery opening.
He was still the straight arrow. She was still the eccentric artist.
“Did you hear what I said, Harry? About looking for you for the last twenty-seven years.”
His shoulders sagged. “I never meant to sleep with you that night. I mean”—he quickly lifted his hands—“I was leaving and should have told you before taking you upstairs. I shouldn’t have just left like that, but I didn’t think you wanted to see me again anyway. If it’s any consolation,” he said giving her a smile that softened the rough edges of her anger, “I’d been working up the courage to kiss you since junior year when you squeezed a tube of red paint in Mitch Friedman’s hair after he made jokes about Frida Kahlo’s eyebrows in art class.”
She frowned at him. That hadn’t been her finest hour. Then again, neither was waking up thinking she was starting a new life as a high school graduate and the girlfriend of the cutest boy she’d ever met, only to find the other side of the homecoming queen’s bed empty. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman embracing her natural beauty.”
His smile faded quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “I shouldn’t have left you like I did. I hope you believe that I regret it. Not being with you,” he amended, “but leaving without explaining.”
She laughed softly. He’d had that same nervous habit in high school. He’d say what was on his mind and then instantly try to recover, afraid his words had come out wrong. Usually they had. For as awkward as she’d been, at least she’d always been able to say what she meant and to stand behind it. Of course, that ability got her in trouble more often than not.
She’d told herself a million times that Harry didn’t owe her an explanation. They hadn’t been in any kind of relationship. She’d drooled over him from afar, but other than an occasional smile in the hallway, he’d barely acknowledged her existence in high school. Even if he hadn’t gone off to start his Ivy League college career the day after graduation, he likely never would have looked at her again. Well, at least not until she could no longer hide the truth of their one-night stand from the world.
 “I expected so much more from you, Harry,” she said sadly, the sting of what he’d done back then numbed slightly by the tequila.
His shoulders sagged a bit. “I know.”
“Why didn’t you ever write me back?” Her voice sounded hurt and pathetic. She was surprised that after so many years of being angry, there was still pain hiding beneath her fury. “I must have sent you a hundred letters.”
He creased his brow. “Letters? I didn’t get any letters.”
Kara searched his eyes. He looked genuinely confused.
“I sent them to…” Her words faded. Suddenly the tequila-induced haze wasn’t so welcome. “Your mother said if I wrote to you, she’d make sure you got my letters.”
“My mother? I never got any letters.”
“But you sent money.”
Harry shook his head slightly. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I send you money?”
She stared at him as realization set in. He hadn’t responded to her letters because he hadn’t received her letters. And if he hadn’t received the letters, he hadn’t sent her money. And if he hadn’t sent her money, he hadn’t known that she needed it. Sighing, she let some of her decades-old anger slip. Her head spun, either from the alcohol or the blurry dots she was trying to mentally connect. Leaning onto the bar, she exhaled slowly. “She never told you, did she?”
“Told me what?”
Kara couldn’t speak. Her words wouldn’t form.
An arm wrapped around Kara’s shoulder, startling her and making her gasp quietly. She turned and blinked several times at the man who had just slid next to her.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I need to get home.” Leaning in, he kissed her head. “Congratulations on the opening, Mom. It was great.”
“Um…” She swallowed, desperate to find her voice. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She flicked her gaze at the man sitting next to her. The longer Harry looked at her son, the wider Harry’s eyes became.
Phil cast a disapproving glance at Harry then focused on his mother again. “Don’t forget that Jess is expecting you to make pancakes in the morning. You promised.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” Kara returned her attention to Harry. His jaw was slack and his cheeks had grown pale.
Phil nodded at Harry as if he were satisfied that he’d made the point that his mother didn’t need to be staying out all night and walked away. Harry watched him leave while Kara waved down the bartender and pointed at her glass. The tattooed kid hesitated, likely debating the ethics of giving her another shot. She pointed again, cocking a brow for emphasis, and he finally filled her glass.
“Kara…” Harry’s voice was breathless, like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Was…was that my…son?”
No. His mother definitely hadn’t given him the letters Kara had written. She lifted her shot, toasting him. “Congratulations, Harry. It’s a boy.”
Amazon Buy Link for The Road Leads Back
Contest:
Sorry, but I do have to put in one little rule here. International shipping is crazy expensive. If the winner is not in the Continental US, you will receive an e-copy of The Road Leads Back and your choice of one of my backlist.


About Marci:
Marci Boudreaux lives with her husband, two children and their numerous pets. Romance is her preferred reading and writing genre because nothing feels better than falling in love with someone new and her husband doesn't like when she does that in real life.As well as writing erotica under her pen name Emilia Mancini, Marci is a content editor for Lyrical Press, an imprint of Kensington Publishing. She earned her MS in Publishing from University of Houston-Victoria in 2014 and worked with Des Moines publishing company Big Green Umbrella Media, Inc. as a freelance writer until she recently opted to focus on working in books.

Culture Clash: What if you go to a new country and hate the food? @AnastasiaVitsky @DecadentPub

Guest Postby Anastasia Vitksy 
Food. If anything can symbolize culture clash in one delectable—or disgusting—morsel, it’s the food we put into our mouths. When Indigo Adams, a naïve farmgirl, travels to South Korea for a blind date, she expects Koreans to think and behave like everyone in her hometown. Norms for names, greetings, dress, and basic etiquette differ so sharply that Indi wants to go home. Her horror with Korean culture reaches its peak when a waiter serves her seafood mixed with pasta.

She [Hyunkyung] gave a small smile, shrugged, and motioned for the waiter to set down the heaping platter of pasta adorned with oysters and shrimp in their shells.Spillville, Iowa, did not have much in the way of seafood, and my mouth puckered at a food combination not found in nature. Shrimp and oysters, those were easy to identify. What about the white round circles that appeared to be a cross between tofu and marshmallows? And those purple-edged white rings lay next to more purple-edged white strips with definite suckered tentacles.
CEO of the multi-billion-dollar Han, Inc., Hyunkyung Han, shares Indi’s horror about their match. Hyunkyung wanted a bilingual, bicultural Korean American who would serve as a secondary figurehead. While she struggles to accommodate American ignorance, she judges Indi by herself. Everyone loves kimchi, the Korean national dish…right?

“It’s a little bland,” I agreed. “The sauce needs some spice to cut through the thickness. Here, have some kimchi to cleanse the palate.” I picked up a few choice pieces of fermented, spicy cabbage and set them on the edge of her plate. She looked, if possible, even greener. “Kimchi is good for you,” I said. “Full of vitamin C, low in calories....”Indi Go picked up her fork and gave a weak stab at the limp cabbage. She patted the tines on top of and next to the kimchi but not through it. Did she not know how to use chopsticks, either?
Bold, confident Hyunkyung stares in gentle puzzlement. She loves kimchi with pasta, and she loves pasta with seafood. Everyone does, don’t they? If Indi doesn’t like the pasta, adding kimchi will make everything better. Right?Don’t you giggle as you picture poor, horrified Indi staring from the fermented cabbage to the noodles? How does Hyunkyung settle their differences? If I tell you, I’ll spoil the story. :D Instead, I’ll say that Ms. Han owns a special box of toys and refuses to share. Ask our dear Sara about refusing to share toys and what happens to naughty girls who do not share. There were plenty of witnesses at the Love Spanks 2015 event when someone declined to use her safeword…
What would you find most difficult about living abroad? Or, if you have experience living abroad, what do you guess would be most difficult? Ana’s note: I will give a small Korean-themed surprise to one random commenter on this post.
Blurb Broken-hearted when her live-in boyfriend impregnates her best frenemy, Indigo Adams accepts a one-way ticket to Seoul, South Korea, and a challenge from her Great-Aunt Matilda: Forget that boy. Go and make something of yourself.
Bruised from an international public relations nightmare as the new heir to the multi-billion-dollar Han Incorporated, Hyunkyung Han seeks positive publicity in the form of a wedding. She consults with Madame Eve to find a nice, well-behaved Korean American with bilingual and bicultural skills.
Instead, Madame Eve sends Indi, a naïve philosophy major graduate working for minimum wage at the local pub. Enraged to find Indi can’t speak one word of Korean, Hyunkyung orders her sent home on the next plane to Spillville, Iowa.

Then Hyunkyung shakes Indi’s hand, and the sparks fly. With all of her professional responsibilities, how can Hyunkyung allow herself to fall for the wrong woman? How can Indi feel attraction for a woman who despises her?

Seoul Spankings offers a light-hearted romp through the perils and joys of navigating an intercultural romance. Certain to delight all fans of a happily ever after with a kinky twist.

Author bio
Cookie queen, wooden spoon lady, and champion of carbs, Anastasia Vitsky specializes in F/F fiction. She hates shoes and is allergic to leather. When not writing about women who live spankily ever after, she coordinates reader and author events such as Spank or Treat, Love Spanks, and Sci Spanks. Her favorite event is Ana’s Advent Calendar, a month-long celebration of books, community, and making a difference.She is too afraid to watch Doctor Who, but she adores The Good Wife and anything with Audrey Hepburn. In her next life, she will learn how to make the perfect pie crust. She can be found at governingana.wordpress.com and on twitter @AnastasiaVitsky.
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#MySexySaturday Saving their relationship with Sexy Talk @DecadentPub #BeyondFairytales

Once Upon a Marriage

He turned in front of her and stopped walking, forcing her to stop, too.
“I know we can’t go back to how things were. I’m not asking you to give up the life you’ve created. I’m just trying to understand who you are now and how you’ve changed since we were together.”
Armina opened her mouth, but found she had no words.
She had no intention of sharing the goal that had driven her every decision over the past year. To have a baby before time ran out, she needed his cooperation to ensure a quick divorce.
“I’ve moved on,” she finally said, not sure she spoke the truth but hoping she did or at least that the words would soon come true.
She needed to move on. The next chapter of her life couldn’t be put on hold.

“I’m not asking you to stop moving on. I just need you to give me a moment to sprint to catch up to you.”
Sale 99 cents!Now - April 5th(Regular price $2.99)Don't miss out! Once Upon a Marriage

#99cents SALE thru April 5th Once Upon a Marriage @DecadentPub @DecadentBFT

Sale 99 cents!Now - April 5th(Regular price $2.99)Don't miss out! Once Upon a Marriage

A Decadent Publishing Beyond Fairytales Retelling of Grimm's Three Army Surgeons

Time is running out for Armina Keer to have the baby she’s always wanted. Before she can move on with her life, she needs her estranged husband to sign their divorce papers. When she can’t get him to respond, her meddling uncles arrange for a trip to his inn. Despite vowing to guard her broken heart, she has to settle the past before she can have a future.
Ian Keer might not deserve a second chance with his wife, but he’s not going to give up one either, not with the immediate flaming attraction still between them. While her uncles’ antics wreak havoc on life at The Inn, he offers her the ultimate gamble: Spend the night with him, and afterwards he’ll sign the papers if she still wants to leave.
With everything riding on one night together, Ian must convince her that their love is strong enough the second time around, and Armina must decide if love is worth sacrificing her dreams.

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