S.C. Mitchell's Blog, page 18
November 12, 2015
Thoughts for Thursday: Playing in Someone Else’s Sandbox
Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:
by Xio Axelrod
You may think you know what fan fiction is, and maybe you do. For some people, it’s a wonderland of naughty designed to appeal to our most fannish fantasies. For others, it’s a chance to “right” the “wrongs” done to our beloved characters by their mean ol’ creators. (How dare you kill Wash, Joss Whedon!?)
And for others, likely the majority, fan fiction is…a joke. Bad writing, Mary Sue characters, and smutty smut-filled smut. (I don’t see a problem with that last one, by the way.)
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Thursday Threads – The Highlander’s Reluctant Bride
Today on Thursday Threads we feature Cathy MacRae‘s wonderful Scottish Medieval Romance, The Highlander’s Reluctant Bride:
The Highlander’s Reluctant Bride
Author: Cathy MacRae
Genre: Scottish Medieval Romance
Heat level: Sensual
Blurb:
Determined to keep the Macrory clan’s holdings out of the clutches of marauding pirates, King Robert II sends his man, Lord Ranald Scott, to hold Scaurness Castle. There, Laird Macrory lays dying, awaiting word from his son who is missing on the battlefields of France. If the son is not found before the old laird dies, Ranald will take over as laird—and marry Laird Macrory’s headstrong daughter.
Lady Caitriona sees no reason she cannot rule the clan in her brother’s stead, and is bitterly disappointed with the king’s decision to send a man to oversee the castle and people. Not only is Ranald Scott only distantly related to the Macrory clan, but he was her childhood nemesis. She has little trust or like for him.
Her disappointment turns to panic when the king’s plan is completely revealed and she realizes she must wed Ranald. Pirates, treachery, and a four-year-old girl stand between her and Ranald’s chance at happiness. What will it take for them to learn to trust each other and find the love they both deserve?
Excerpt:
Riona brushed a wayward strand of dark auburn hair from her face as she took two quick paces to catch up with him. The movement reminded Ranald of her as a child.
“I don’t suppose ye were too anxious to come here,” she said.
He formed a rueful expression. “Nae. ‘Twas no’ my first choice.”
“I know ye dinnae like it here. Ye always seemed relieved to depart.”
Ranald laughed. “‘Twas ye I dinnae like.”
Rather than take offence, Riona nodded again. “Nor I ye.”
“Ye were a difficult lass.”
She drew up short, staring at him. “Me? Difficult? All I ever wanted was to be included. Ye were forever running off, trying to leave me behind.”
Ranald did not check his pace. “Ach, we did let ye play sometimes.”
With a huff, Riona scrambled to his side. “Oh, aye. Ye let me play ‘princess.’ The princess ye kidnapped and held for ransom by tying me to a tree all afternoon.” She grabbed at her skirt again as she stumbled and caught herself.
Ranald paused and his horse tossed his head at his master’s sudden halt, but Riona didn’t slow her stride. With one long pace he was even with her again.
“And what about the time ye let me go fishing?” she tossed at him. “Except I had to sit in the bottom of the boat and use my skirt to hold yer catch. I smelled of fish for a week.”
Ranald chuckled and shook his head. “That wasnae me, lass.”
She bit her lip, and Ranald wondered why her straight, white teeth fascinated him so. He stared at the reddened mark her bite left behind.
“True,” she allowed. “Ye dinnae like the water, do ye?”
Ranald swallowed back his wayward thoughts. This was Riona, his childhood nemesis, not the sweet widow he’d left behind at Scott Castle.
He caught her sideways glance at him and realized he’d not answered her. “Nae. ‘Tis all that up and down and sideways motion. Makes my stomach churn.”
“How do ye intend to be laird of a people who live by the sea?”
“I cannae say if I’ll ever be much of a sailor, but I will be laird.”
Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00J1PNPPC//
***
Connect with Cathy:
Website: http://www.cathymacraeauthor.com/
Twitter: @CMacRaeAuthor
November 10, 2015
Romance Writers Weekly – What Is Romance?
Welcome to the romance Writers Weekly blog hop, where every week a great group of romance writers answer questions and accept challenges. Diverse in what we write, we are unified in the quest to bring you, the romance reader, a very happy ever after.
RWW also has a website with its own blog, a newsletter, and can be found on Facebook, and Twitter (@RWWBlog).
If you’ve wondered in from Brenda Margriet’s blog post or are just starting your hop here with me, set your sights on romance.
And don’t forget to check out Brenda’s wonderful romantic suspense novel Mountain Fire:
Our challenge today comes from Jenna Da Sie who asks: Romance. There are many different meanings. What does it mean to you?
Ah, romance. For me it boils down to that Happy Ever After. Isn’t that what we’re all looking for?
Maybe because I’m looking it from the other end of life, but after 37 years of marriage, it feels like the true romance of a story happens after you read that last chapter. “And they lived happily ever after…”
Not that there’s not any romantic events in a romance novel, but for me true romance starts after love is discovered between two people.
It’s that daily feeding of the relationship, the hand holding, the peck on the cheek, and the stolen intimate moments while the kids are napping. As complicated as cooking an elaborate meal and as simple as picking up your dirty socks. The building of the life together, and the sharing of the good and the bad.
At first romance becomes the tool for life-meshing, two people spending so much time together they don’t know where one leaves off and the other begins. Romance can fill those awkward gaps while getting to know this stranger you’ve fallen in love with.
And for me a big part of romance is humor. Humor puts the happy in happy ever after. Laugh, love, live.
Okay, enough of this touchy-feely stuff.
Find out what romance means to Teresa Keefer as the Romance Writers Weekly blog hop continues at: http://teresakeeferauthor.weebly.com/musings-from-the-woods.html
November 5, 2015
Thursday Threads – Buccaneer Beauty
Today on Thursday Threads we feature
Buccaneer Beauty
Genre: Historical Romance
Heat Level: Sensual
Blurb:
BUCCANEER BEAUTY is the story of Grace, Graínne, O’Malley, the beautiful daughter of a powerful Irish chieftain and a conventional mother. At the age of eleven, Graínne cuts her hair and sneaks aboard her father’s galley ship, determined to follow a life at sea and to seek the company of a handsome Scottish gallowglass, Bruce Donnel. Graínne proves herself a budding warrior when Spanish marauders invade her father’s vessel, but her parents have other plans for her. Though she proves an able sailor, Graínne is forced to marry Donal O’Flaherty, another powerful chieftain. Though enamored of Bruce Donnel, she nonetheless obeys her parents and proves an able helpmate to her violent and rash husband, continuing her own adventures at sea while raising children and supervising her husband’s home. Her heart, however, still belongs to a handsome Scot who she can never have.
Upon Donal’s death by ambush, Graínne continues her adventures along the Irish coast and Europe, secretly battling England’s growing power in her country. Alternately sleeping with the devil or manipulating the British authorities to her own ends, Graínne is determined to save her family and people from the tyranny imposed upon them by England. To make her family stronger, she weds Richard Bourke, one of the most powerful men in the region, but she can never forget Bruce Donnel and the passion he incited within her soul. Richard proves Graínne’s most stalwart supporter and she his, their minds and bodies uniting in an almost mystical union. Together, they faced the English with no fear—with only audacity and boundless courage. Still, the shadow of a youthful gallowglass intrudes on Graínne’s peace.
BUY LINK: http://www.amzn.com/B010MOFENQ/
Excerpt:
“I wish you could come with me to Bunowen.” Grainne heard Bruce’s footsteps when he stepped on the hay spread along the barn. She looked up from grooming her chestnut horse.
“Now what would I be doing there?” Bruce ambled toward her and began stroking the mare’s nose. The horse stomped on the ground with her right front hoof and let out a fierce snort. The Scot took a step back.
“She thinks you mean to dishonor me.” Grainne grinned at him as she combed the horse’s mane. “My da gave her to me after that first voyage. Before that, I’d only had a pony. He said I could handle Anu after that.”
Bruce had regained his courage. He searched within the folds of his cloak and offered the horse a carrot. Anu gazed at him with what looked like suspicion, sniffing the tempting vegetable. “She’s a wild one.”
Grainne laughed and threw her arms around the animal’s long neck. “She’s a smart one, you’re meaning.” She stared at the now fully-grown man before her. His fair hair fell lightly onto his shoulders, and he wore the tartan trews typical of his people. She glanced at the way his muscular legs bulged within the tight material of his tartan trews. He’d spent most of his life yielding an axe, and Grainne didn’t want to admit to herself how lonely the months were when he returned to his native land with the rest of his men. “How old are you now, Bruce Donnel?”
Bruce watched as Anu took a generous bite from the carrot, then he lifted it to his own lips, grinning. “Older than you, Lady Grainne.” He studied her for a few minutes. “Twenty.”
“So no Highland Lass has won your heart, has she?” Grainne swept the coarse mane from the comb and tossed it aside. She wiped her hands on her trews and pushed a stray strand of hair from her face.
“No, my heart’s been stolen by an Irish goddess, but I can’t have her.” He turned to the pawing horse and shared the rest of his carrot.
Grainne’s heart hammered inside her breast. She took a deep breath and forced levity into her voice. “Who is she, pray tell?”
Bruce was suddenly so close to her that she could feel his hot breath feathering the slight hairs on her neck. “Don’t play with me, Grainne. It hurts too much.”
Grainne swallowed hard as her very being lurched with desire and aching need. Every sinew in her body wanted to wrap him within the all-consuming fire of her passion. She forced a laugh into her voice. “What hurts? By what I hear aboard ship you waste no time pining for the chieftain’s daughter. You’re quite the man about port. Many a Spanish and French lass can attest to that.”
“They mean nothing.” His fingertips lightly touched a strand of her hair, but he jerked away as if an electric jolt raced through his body. He added bitterly, “But you’re the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Connaught, and you’re soon to be the wife of another. I’m a poor mercenary.”
“Not so poor by what I’ve heard.” Grainne struggled to control her own rapid breathing. The heat of his body infiltrated her very pores. “Rumor has it you’ve farmland in the Highlands.”
Bruce’s face was very close to hers as he moved closer to her, his breath fanning against her lips as they lightly touched hers. Grainne involuntarily touched his cheek, her fingertips on fire and her own breathing sounding loud in her ears. “You’ve heard right. It would be a great place to raise sheep, if I had the right woman.”
“Aye. It would be in a place with the right woman.”
Grainne looked away, but she still felt his heat. He cupped her chin under with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. His brown eyes bore into her soul. Grainne’s whole body grew hot, and she gently slapped away his hand. Turning from him, she replied softly over her shoulder, “I have to finish with Anu.”
“Would you leave with me, my wild rose?” Suddenly, Bruce’s powerful arms encircled her waist. He ran his lips along her neck as his hands shifted to her breasts.
Grainne turned to him, almost against her as though she couldn’t help her conscious will. In his arms, she wasn’t possessed of a mind at all, only an aching body that longed for sexual release. During her long journeys at sea, Grainne had acquired many unsavory sailors’ habits. She loved to game and swore in such a way that made her mother cross herself before flailing her only daughter, but Grainne had never given of herself to man. She’d purposefully withheld her sexual favors from the men inhabiting her father’s ships. Grainne was a chieftain’s daughter. She wouldn’t disgrace him or herself.
***
Viola can be found at:
Website: http://www.violarussell.com
Thoughts for Thursday… Writing – Love it or Leave it by Leslie Hachtel
Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:
I’m a writer—an in my heartbeat, flowing through my veins, writer. I have no choice. I have to embrace it. Or suffer from the lack. When I’m in the grocery store or doing laundry, I’m writing in my head. I used to carry a portable tape recorder (anyone remember those?) and dictated stories whenever I had a solitary moment. I hoped then that no one saw me talking to myself.
Years ago, I took a self-defense class. It was a full-contact, full-force, intense workshop, very personal and emotional. At the end, everyone was asked to bring a token for their classmates, to express their experience. Some brought food, some jewelry. Me? I wrote a story.
If I’m not actually working on a novel, I watch people and create scenarios. Ideas wake me in the middle of the night and interrupt when I’m doing other things. It’s a persistent process that…
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October 29, 2015
Thursday Threads – Son of the Moonless Night
Today on Thursday Threads we feature a wonderful new novel from C. D. Hersh, Son of the Moonless Night:
GENRE: Urban fantasy, Paranormal, Romance
HEAT LEVEL: Sensual
Currently available in eBook on Amazon at: http://amzn.com/B00XK3E172
Blurb:
Owen Todd Jordan Riley has a secret. He’s a shape shifter who has been hunting and killing his own kind. To him the only good shifter is a dead shifter. Revenge for the death of a friend motivates him, and nothing stands in his way . . . except Katrina Romanovski, the woman he is falling in love with.
Deputy coroner Katrina Romanovski has a secret, too. She hunts and kills paranormal beings like Owen. At least she did. When she rescues Owen from an attack by a werebear she is thrust back into the world she thought she’d left. Determined to find out what Owen knows about the bear, she begins a relationship meant to collect information. What she gets is something quite different-love with a man she suspects of murder. Can she reconcile his deception and murderous revenge spree and find a way to redeem him? Or will she condemn him for the same things she has done and walk away from love?
Excerpt:
A crash in the alley stopped Katrina Romanovski mid-stride. Like the October mist swirling in off the lake, her gypsy blood stirred sending her intuition into high gear. Something unnatural was happening.
Go see what’s wrong. She heard her father’s voice as clearly as if he stood next to her.
On the heels of his words came her mother’s pragmatic warning in clipped British tones. You know what curiosity killed. Katrina pushed the ever-present warning aside. Mom never approved of Dad’s supernatural hunts and even less of his drawing her into them.
Pulling the oversized cross she always wore out from under her shirt, Kat looked around for a weapon. Please, not a vampire. I hate vampires! A piece of wood sticking out of the trashcan at the front of the alley caught her eye.
Grabbing it, she broke the end off into a sharp point. The mist-filled air filtered the light from the single bulb over one of the alley doorways. The wind swirled the loose trash around making a quiet approach difficult. Sidestepping the paper, with the stake in one hand and holding the gun she took from her purse in the other hand, she crept into the alley.
A roar echoed against the buildings, the sound nearly sending her running. That roar wasn’t a vampire. It sounded more like an animal. Kat inched closer. In the yellow pool of light from the back door of the building, a black bear, over seven feet tall, reared on its back legs and swung its paw at the man standing at the edge of the light. He crashed to the ground, shirt torn open from the slashing claws. Blood covered the fabric, and he clasped his left hand over his shoulder to stem the flow. The bear bent toward him, teeth bared in a smile. A wicked smile.
Kat aimed her gun, but before she could pull the trigger, a shot rang out. The flash of gunpowder lit the face of the injured man. The blast reverberated against the buildings. With an enraged bellow, the bear staggered backward against the wall. Shaking his head, the animal dropped to all four paws. Weaving like a drunk, he lumbered toward his attacker. The man took aim again, shooting the animal between the eyes. Animal and human collapsed on the dirty, littered pavement.
As she started to move forward, Kat’s gypsy senses crawled over her skin like angry red ants. As she slipped back into the shadows, the bear shed fur. Changing size. Then, finally, turning into a man.
Shape shifters. Her stake wasn’t any good against them, and her bullets weren’t silver. This one appeared dead anyway. Had the wounded man seen the shift? Tossing the stake aside, she paused by the shifter and quickly moved to the wounded man. Out cold. Still human.
When she touched him, his eyelids fluttered open. “Did I get it?”
“What?”
“The bear.”
***
Where you can find C.D. HERSH:
Thoughts for Thursday… NaNoWriMo the nightmare or the savior???
Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:
Welcome back to Romance Writers Weekly’s Thoughts for Thursday!!! I’m J.J. Devine and you can find my historical and paranormal romances over at Amazon.
I’ve been writing for quite a few years, (20 years writing romance to be exact), but only in the last seven have I gotten serious about writing romance novels for publication.
Each year at this time for the last six years I’ve taken up the NaNoWriMo challenge. What in the heck is NaNoWriMo, you ask? National Novel Writing Month. It comes around every November 1st and it is 30 days of pure agony and torture for any writer who chooses to pick up the challenge, LOL. Your goal is to write at least a 50,000 word novel, 1667 words a day, from November 1st to November 30th. Yes, it is possible I promise, although I haven’t finished since the first two years…
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October 22, 2015
THOUGHTS FOR THURSDAY- Falling Down the Rabbit Hole of Naughty Words
Originally posted on Romance Writers Weekly:
Hi all~ Kristi Rose here. It’s my turn to blog and I thought I’d take you on a little journey that I inadvertently went on one day:-)
Falling Down the Rabbit Hole of Naughty Words
I recently finished writing a book where the heroine had a potty mouth (she would’ve been called a muck spout long ago). Sometimes I loved that she couldn’t care less what others thought and sometimes I hesitated to write the combination of profanity that she’d likely string together. Left me looking over my shoulder much like a criminal. I think we can all agree that western culture has become a tad…desensitized, but am I the only one who enjoys our societal evolution but cringes from it as well?
This entire internal debate took me down into a rabbit hole that I’m sharing with you today.
We all know that naughty words are born out of…
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Thursday Threads – The Widow’s Walk
Today on Thursday Threads we feature Carole Ann Moleti and her haunting novel, The Widow’s Walk:
Paranormal Romance
Sexy, Heat Level 3-4
(available in ebook and print)
http://www.amazon.com/Widows-Walk-Carole-Ann-Moleti-ebook/dp/B00PHYCLHY
Blurb:
Mike and Liz Keeny are newlyweds, new parents, and the proprietors of the Barrett Inn, an 1875 Victorian on Cape Cod, which just happens to be haunted. By their own ghosts. The Inn had become an annex of Purgatory, putting Mike, Liz, and their infant son in danger. Selling the historic seaside bed and breakfast was the only answer, one that Liz and her own tortured specter refused to consider. Were they doomed to follow the same path that led to disaster in their previous lives? Was getting out, getting away, enough?
Excerpt:
Look, for now, we’ll just stay where we are–together. If Liz and Mike are united, then Jared and Elisabeth aren’t going to be able to get in between us.” He brushed the tears off her cheeks.
She stared at him intently, fear, maybe desperation in her eyes. “We can only talk to each other about this. Others might use any information against us.”
“Who would do that, Liz?’
Her demeanor hardened. She sat up, raised her chin. “My son. Your daughter. Sandra.”
“You’re paranoid. The kids have no inkling about ghosts. All Sandra has are theories. She doesn’t know about your incident–or my illness. And I’m not going to tell her.” Guilt twanged in his gut. Sandra had come up with all the ghostly interpretations on her own, right?
Liz jumped up. “She knows about my injury. Maybe not how it happened, but when Mae went in there to get my things, she figured out it was for me. She reads minds, or manipulates people into blabbing what they know.”
Mike lowered his voice to a whisper. “It doesn’t take much for Mae to spill information. I think you’re giving Sandra too much credit.” Yet, she did ask him about the ghosts as soon as he sat down.
“You can joke all you want, Mike, but this is serious. We can’t let anyone else in.”
“I won’t say a word about anything ghostly to anyone. As long as things stay under control.”
Liz studied him.
Mike squirmed. “I think I’m going to take a nap.” He settled back on the sofa.
She tucked the blanket around him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll go help Mae with dinner.”
She didn’t believe him. He didn’t trust her. This was never going to work.
Author Bio
Carole Ann Moleti lives and works as a nurse-midwife in New York City, thus explaining
her fascination with all things paranormal, urban fantasy, and space opera. Her nonfiction focuses on health care, politics, and women’s issues. But her first love is writing science fiction and fantasy because walking through walls is less painful than running into them.
Carole’s Cape Cod paranormal romance novel, The Widow’s Walk, was published by Soulmate. Her urban fantasy short stories have appeared in the Toil, Trouble and Temptation Anthology and Haunted, Bites, Beltane, and Seers, all part of the Ten Tales series. Her review and commentary, memoir excerpts and creative non-fiction have been published in a variety of literary venues.
Buy Link
Where to find Carole:
http://amazon.com/author/carolemoleti
http://caroleannmoleti.blogspot.com/p/the-widows-walk.html
https://www.facebook.com/caroleannmoleti
http://amazon.com/author/carolemoleti
plus.google.com/103609323247390103301
https://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomCmoleti
http://www.pinterest.com/caroleannmoleti/
October 20, 2015
Romance Weekly – Reimagine
Welcome to the romance Writers Weekly blog hop, where every week a great group of romance writers answer questions and accept challenges. Diverse in what we write, we are unified in the quest to bring you, the romance reader, a very happy ever after.
RWW also has a website with its own blog, a newsletter, and can be found on Facebook, and Twitter (@RWWBlog).
If you’ve wondered in from Gemma Brocato’s blog post or are just starting your hop here with me, get set for some rewrites. And check out her new release, A Spirited Love:
Our challenge comes from Dani Jace – Flash Fiction: Pick a short scene from a book, movie or TV show that didn’t go the way you wanted. Rewrite the scene the way you would have written in 500 word or less.
Okay, maybe it’s just Halloween in the air, but my head went here:
Today I’m doing a rewrite on a classic romantic film. Stop this video at the 1:30 mark, because that’s where I’m giving them a different reason to be Sleepless in Seattle:
Sleepless in Seattle.
(Rewrite)
Dumbstruck in the road, Annie struggled for words. A car horn blared in her ears. Sam’s eyes widened.
She turned to confront an approaching taxi. The driver skidded his breaks while motioning, pointing toward the curb.
She spun and took a step toward her car, ready to escape, as embarrassment washed over her. But the bushes on the hillside were alive, moving and shaking though there was no discernible wind.
Rank purification filled the air as a host of figures shambled out of the foliage. They’d once been people, or at least that’s what it looked like. Now gray skin hung shriveled on loose frames. Tattered clothing barely covered the animated skeletal remains.
Zombies? It was the only explanation that fit.
Annie backed away, back into the traffic. Speeding cars held only a fraction of the terror of the things that approached her.
“Come on.” A deep male voice from behind.
A warm hand clasped hers, pulling. Annie turned to stare into the piercing gaze of Sam.
“I don’t know what these things are, but we’ve got to get out of here.” His voice a calm oasis in the storm of terror that whirled through her mind.
He dragged her across the highway. Horns continued to blare around her, but whether they were honking at her or the hoard of zombies that pursued her, she couldn’t say.
Sam reached out and took the hand of the small boy waiting on the other side of the roadway. Is that Jonah?
“Everybody get in my truck . . . now!” Sam’s commanding voice compelled Annie to rush toward the vehicle. The woman . . . the one he’d hugged . . . clambered in to sit beside her in the back as Sam hoisted Jonah into the front seat then climbed behind the wheel.
The woman beside her was shaking, her eyes wide. “Where are we going?”
By the time Sam had backed out of his parking space, the creatures were flooding the street, the foremost already across and coming straight for the vehicle. He floored the accelerator, mowing down three of them before reaching the highway. “There’s a Wal-Mart about a mile from here. It will be our best hope of surviving this. They’ll have food, guns, and thick walls.”
He weaved through the heavy traffic as more and more of the restless undead appeared on the side of the roadway ahead. An invasion. An Apocalypse.
“I’m Sam, by the way.” How the hell could he be in such control?
“Annie.” She replied.
***
So, did they make it? Of course. Did they end up falling in love? Of course. Did anyone else survive? Hmm…
Okay, hop on over to see what Dani Jace rewrote as the Romance Writers Weekly blog hop continues at: http://www.danijace.com
