Dani Collins's Blog, page 65

#SampleSunday – Hustled To The Altar

I decided to switch things up and offer an excerpt from Hustled To The Altar. I lowered the price to $2.49 so if you’re in the mood for a comedic beach read over your Memorial Day weekend, check it out.

This scene is from late in the book, but it’s one of my favorites. Con, the irrepressible game player, and Renny, the reformed con artist, are trying to get to the root of their failed relationship. They wind up in an elevator with a bunch of drunk therapists.

~*~

It was crowded with people wearing sloppy grins, suggesting they had enjoyed the martini specials at the hotel bar.

“Where did you get that lame plan, anyway? The pot-head cameraman? I expected better of you,” Renny muttered.

“Like what?” he asked with irritation. “Because I’m having trouble figuring out what your expectations are. Do you want me to be sensible or a super-hero?”

“Marital problems?” one of the strangers asked. He offered his card. “I’m a thamily ferapist.”

Renny plucked the card out of the man’s hand and smiled a dismissing thanks. She turned to Con. “I expect you to be what you are: a man who finds a way to win.”

“I did win. You’re still alive.”

“Trauma survivor?” A woman dug in her purse.

Renny accepted another card with another stiff smile.

The elevator stopped, but no one left. The doors shut and it began to rise again.

“So I’m alive,” Renny said. “Big deal! How am I supposed to live with this kind of failure?”

“Depression,” the group agreed with a nodding of heads. Several people reached for pockets and purses.

“I don’t need help. I know what I’m dealing with,” Renny insisted, refusing the cards. Con took them, amused by the group.

Breathing deeply, Renny faced him. “What I’m saying is, I know you have to be one step ahead all the time, that it gives you a sense of control. I’ve figured out how to live with that aspect of your personality—”

“Co-dependent. That’s you, Charlotte.”

“Oh, right.” The elevator stopped as the woman extracted her card.

Renny snatched it and held the door, shooing all the people off the elevator.

“But I’m three floors up,” a heavyset man complained.

“Ask one of your friends to help you get over it.” Renny pressed the button to close the doors and leaned into the wall, scowling at the red dots on her inner wrist.

Con took her hand, frowning at her marred skin.

“Authority figures give me hives,” she explained.

“That explains your rash behavior.”

“It’s not funny.”

It was, but she obviously needed help to laugh about it. Handing her a couple of the business cards he still held, he fanned out the ones he’d kept.

“I’ve got a pair of substance abuse counselors,” he said in an inviting tone.

She let her eyelids droop in disdain, like she was going to ignore him.

“Can’t beat it? Too bad,” he mused.

She peeked at her cards. “Three family therapists. I win.”

“Wait. I’ve got a child welfare. That’s like an ace.”

“Is that how we’re playing? ’Cause I’ve got an aroma therapist, which would be a joker.”

“You do not. Tell me you’ve got a sex therapist and I’ll fold.”

She showed him a card. “Trauma. Same thing.”

They both laughed. He couldn’t wait any longer and pulled her close to kiss her. It was heaven.

Click here to get it on Amazon, iBooks, Kobo, Nook… and have a great weekend!

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Era Lo Prohibido (It Was Forbidden)

Excuse my freak out, but I LOVE this cover. But, um, where exactly is her hand?!

This is the Spanish translation of No Longer Forbidden? It releases in November in paperback and digital. My first foreign edition! How cool is that?

If you’ve read the book, you know that Rowan and Nic get caught in a rainstorm and wind up necking in his convertible. Here’s a teaser from the scene this cover evokes:

They slammed themselves back into the car as the sky opened up. The drumming became a wild rush of sound.

As the windscreen blurred with heavy rain, Rowan glanced at him, expecting him to start the car and pull out. In the muted light, his blue eyes were charcoal, his body a mass of gathered energy.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I can’t wait.” He leaned across, one hand cupping her cheek as he slanted his mouth in hot possession over hers.

Rowan gasped, parting her lips. Nic took devastating advantage, thrusting past the games and hesitations of their past kisses and slamming them into a new reality of raw seduction. His arm came behind her shoulders, gathering her up and providing a pillow as she yielded. So much had changed between them in the last twenty-four hours, Rowan couldn’t do anything but give herself over to the flood of desire.

When his tongue touched hers, lust struck with blinding ferocity, lighting a fire of aggression in her that made her kiss him back with equal fervor, lashing at his tongue with her own, fueling the blaze of need expanding around them.

She was dimly aware of a soft growl in his throat, that his fingers moved in a gentle caress of her jaw and throat, but she wouldn’t give up their kiss. Her hands went into his hair, holding him so she could harden the press of their mouths, inhibitions demolished by how instantaneously he inflamed her. She needed this more than air.

If you haven’t read this one, don’t worry! It’s the one that comes out in December as a 2-4-1 with More Than A Convenient Marriage?

Want to be notified when my books become available? Scroll to the bottom of this page and sign up for my newsletter.

 

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WOTI Wednesday – Audra Middleton

Audra Middleton is my third interrogation, I mean interview, of my Fantasy Friends from Worlds Of The Imagination. She’s here to talk about her fantasy, The Watcher.

Hi Audra. Thanks for joining me today. How long have you been writing? How does it fit into the rest of your life? What are you besides a writer?

Thanks so much for having me here today, Dani!

In a way I’ve always been a writer, because I’ve always been a daydreamer, and that’s how it starts. After college I went into teaching and then started a family, and really didn’t write any of my daydreams down until a few years ago at the encouragement of friends. Once I started writing again, I couldn’t seem to stop. Mostly I write in between loads of laundry and little league games, because first and foremost I am a mother of three boys.

What is your process like? Did this book give you any trouble or flow better than others?

I am a character-driven ‘pantser,’ which means I tend to develop my characters in my mind first, put them in a problematic situation, and then let them take me where they will. Watcher took me years to write, because it was my first novel and it was a fantasy, so I had a lot of world-building to do. My second novel took me a year to complete, and my third even less, partly because I have more experience now and partly because they had a contemporary, real-world setting.

What can readers look forward to next from you?

I have a humorous paranormal thriller coming out in November, called The Hitchhiker. I am also finishing up a romantic comedy and am nearly done with my first draft of the sequel to Watcher. The ideas keep coming; I’m just trying to keep up.

I can totally relate! Would you share an excerpt?

“She blocks her thoughts,” he whispered, surprised.

“Yes. I’ve no idea what goes on in that fool head of hers.”

Ben became flushed with anger. It was rare to find someone he could not read. To have constant knowledge of others’ thoughts was maddening, tedious, and altogether lonely. He had been living in near seclusion on the farm for almost three years, escaping the thoughts of men, resting from the war. He would have appreciated the company of someone he could not read.

“Why have you kept her from me?” he asked, angrily.

Goran laughed.

“You assume I have some sort of influence on that creature. I tried to find a proper home for her in the village throughout her childhood. Every time I tried, she hid in the woods for days. I finally decided God put this kernel in my teeth for a reason. She comes and goes as she pleases, but she has never left Willowbrook Wood until now,” Goran explained.

Benaiah let go of Goran’s arm. Watcher was now several paces ahead, determined to show them she was not crippled by her embarrassing fall.

“I did not give you permission to wear my cloak,” he taunted her, knowing from the flashes of pink he saw as she fell, she had nothing on under.

Watcher glared back at him and walked toward the edge of the woods again. She walked face first into the first tree she came to, dropping the cloak as she became bark, then trunk wood, then bark again on the other side. Watcher called softly to her pet, hoping he did not get hungry and wander off. Having smelled the man in the water, it made him uneasy when she left toward the clearing. He was not far off when she called.

“Thank you, Kitty. Off you go, I’ll be all right for a while,” she whispered, as she grabbed her pack, slipped on her own cloak, and returned to the clearing.

Ben once again stopped in his tracks.

“How did she do that?” he asked.

Goran shrugged. “Her gift.”

“What sort of creature walks through trees?”

Goran shook his head. “I am afraid you are about to find out.”

He thought for a moment about warning Benaiah not to become distracted, not to lose focus of his duties soon to come, but he had grown weary of being the messenger of such foreboding. She would most likely be gone within the week, after all.

Where can readers find you and your books?

Readers can purchase my book at Burst Books (a division of Champagne Books), Amazon, B&N.com, Kobo, iBookstore, & Sony.

Follow Audra via her website & blog or http://www.facebook.com/AudraMiddletonAuthor.

Thank you so much for being my guest today, Audra. We’ll all be watching for The Watcher.

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#SampleSunday – Proof Of Their Sin

I’m pretty wrapped up in my current Work In Process so almost missed posting this. It’s also really hard when you’re dazzled with the genius of your current project to think about old flames, but now that I’ve revisited Paolo and Lauren to find this excerpt, I’m losing my mind with excitement for this book to come out. They have such a long, fraught journey to their happily ever after. Here’s another taste of where they start:

“You need to get back to your party,” she murmured, carrying the icy glass of soda to her temple.

“No one will miss me,” he dismissed, even though he was distantly aware of the same thing.

“Isabella will,” she admonished. Then, keeping her face averted, asked, “Are you going to marry her?”

He hesitated. This news of Lauren’s was more than even his lightning mind could process quickly, but he couldn’t turn his life upside down without thinking it through. It would be humiliating to believe her and discover he’d been tricked again. Best to stay the course until he had better evidence for a correction.

“It would be a good match,” he said, hammering Isabella’s top qualities for both their benefits. “Her father is at the UN, her mother works with an international aid organization. Isabella understands life on the stage of global politics. Yes, I intend to marry her.”

Lauren made a noise of acknowledgement that almost sounded like the gasp from an absorbed blow.

Her reaction inexplicably caused invisible wires to pull him tighter than his tension already had him. A pike of misgiving speared through him and he instinctively wanted to rethink everything he’d just said.

It was exactly the turmoil he wouldn’t allow her to put him through. He brushed aside the detour into self-doubt as she spoke again.

“I didn’t hear anything about love. That was the problem with your first marriage, wasn’t it?” She kept her attention on the orange she was separating into sections, holding it well away from her gown.

He stared at the top of her head, willing her to look up at him and dare to say that. At the same time, his gut twisted with guilt. It was true, he’d had very little affection for his ex, but she’d still managed to devastate him. It was one reason he was determined to pin his future on Isabella and not a woman he truly loved. To be betrayed was one thing, to love and be betrayed would be impossible to bear.

“Love is for fools,” he muttered.

With a snort of cynicism, Lauren chortled, “Ain’t that the truth.”

Hearing her echo the sentiment irritated him. The way she had turned to him in Charleston had proved to him she wasn’t as devoted to Ryan as she’d portrayed through her marriage. This was further evidence she had scorned a man who had worshipped her.

“I guess that makes Ryan a fool, marrying for love,” Paolo said scathingly.

“Are you serious?” Her amber gaze flashed up like a splash of bourbon, stinging with hot-cold. “If he loved me so much, why did he spend all his time on the other side of the world taking insane chances with his life? He married me because I was raised to wait until I had a ring on my finger and he wanted bragging rights.”

“A clever ploy on your part, seeing as his family is quite well off,” he shot back, while a flash of Ryan’s smug, victor’s grin hit him square between the eyes. There could be some truth to her claim. He had another suspicion about his friend’s motives, one that was even less complimentary. They had always been competitive with each other, he and Ryan. It was usually good-natured, but there were times it had been cutthroat and Ryan had been in no doubt that Paolo found Lauren attractive.

No doubt.

“It wasn’t a ploy, it’s the truth,” Lauren bit out defensively, pulling Paolo’s thoughts from a dark place he rarely visited.

It was a place of bitterness he barely understood because he never examined it, but it filled him with enough acrimony to challenge, “You married for sex then?”

Disbelief dropped her jaw before her outrage fell away to wounded pride.

Her stunned silence pricked his conscience. He almost began forming an apology for crossing a line, but a self-conscious flush flooded into her cheeks. She looked naked and culpable, but her expression carried an edge of defiance that gave him a tingle of premonition. He unconsciously braced himself.

With her blush firmly in place, but a disconcertingly frank look sweeping over her, she sat straighter and said defiantly, “Perhaps I did marry for sex. I was curious and not confident enough to believe any other man would be interested, but I did love Ryan, in my immature way.”

That was too much honesty. He looked away, wanting to refute what she was saying by pointing out he had been interested, but that would only muddy already dark waters. Immature he would accept, while the rest he held in reserve. He needed to view her as deceitful in order to keep his distance. Otherwise he’d have to believe everything she was saying about this baby she was carrying and where would that leave him? Not upholding the honor of his family name the way he’d sworn to do after so disgracing it with his ugly divorce.

He would have to believe that when Lauren had woken him from the first sleep he’d had in forty-eight hours by sliding her caressing hand into his shirt, it had been from genuine want, not ulterior motives.

The pulse of desire that hit with that possibility was a sledgehammer straight into his gut, bathing him in heat. His hungry gaze moved restlessly to eat up the way her shorn head revealed her slender neck and the graceful slant of her nude shoulders. Her deshabille gave off a sexy, yet ingenuous appearance.

Don’t fall for it, he cautioned himself, but couldn’t help thinking that no matter whose baby grew in her belly, she was still a woman without a husband to provide for her. She was susceptible and he was, at his core, a protective man.

He was duty-bound to protect his family though. And what did it matter whether she had married for love or not? She was also admitting to resentment that her husband had been away a lot.

What she’d done during those long absences was very much up for scrutiny. Perhaps he should take her at her word that she wasn’t asking him to be a father, only wanted to warn him about an impending media storm.

I’ll be visiting Nights Of Passion on May 23rd, offering a giveaway copy of Proof Of Their Sin. Come say hi and possibly get the rest of Paolo and Lauren’s story.

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WOTI Wednesday – Rita Bay

I’m continuing my interviews with my Fantasy Friends (not imaginary! real authors!!) from Worlds Of The Imagination.  Today Rita Bay is here to talk about her Light Warrior vs Vampire paranormal, The Aegis.

Hi Rita. How long have you been writing? How does it fit into the rest of your life? What are you besides a writer ?

Thank you for inviting me, Dani.

I’ve been writing forever. Until seven years ago, however, I was engaged in technical writing – grants, programs planning, curriculum, and manuals. I started writing historicals and moved on to paranormals. Four novels and five years later, the novels rested in neatly-labeled folders. My Southern Sizzle Romance blog sisters/critique group twisted my arm until I submitted. Within three weeks Champagne Books contracted for my feline shapeshifter, Into the Lyons’ Den, and Siren BookStrand contracted my two Georgian/ Regency historicals, His Obsession and His Desire.

The last year has been a whirlwind. Editing for two publishers, maintaining my blog, marketing the new releases, and working on current projects has taken up most of my time. I’ve been very fortunate to have two great publishers, professional editors that have made the editing process a pleasure, and supportive author groups at both houses.

(I hear ya, sister. Ahem, please continue.)

I’ve worked as a registered nurse, career technical instructor, and school system administrator. I also volunteer with a historic preservation group. My most recent volunteer project was compiling the records for a 150+year-old cemetery. It was published last year and I’m about to start the second volume. Busy-busy.

What is your process like? Did this book give you any trouble or flow better than others?

I’m a super plotter. I mull a story over with visual scenes and dialogue in my head for months or years. Then, I write the blurb, character sketches, and finally a scene tracker which includes the location, action and plot progression, characters, POV, and dialogue snippets. Next, I put it in a folder for a while and add bits and pieces as they come to me.

When I finally sit down to write, it’s a frantic, multi-day endeavor. I never have trouble with the writing because I become so immersed in my characters and the story that it flows well. When I finish, I set it aside for a few weeks, then return to it for edits. Rather than filing the completed manuscript away, I now hold my breath and submit them.

Which brings me to my advice to aspiring writers: You won’t get published, unless you submit.

Excellent advice. What can readers look forward to next from you?

The second book of the “Lyons’ Tales” shapeshifter novel, Finding Eve, is finished with edits and ready for release in September. I recently signed with Secret Cravings Publishing for a contemporary military short story, Search & Rescue, which will be released in July. It was a story that popped up unsolicited during my November NaNoWriMo project (a novel in a month) and demanded to be written.

My summer writing project will be an as yet un-named final story in the “Lyon’s Tales.” I’ve become attached to the characters and am not looking forward to letting them go. Maybe I won’t…

Blurb:

“Better Dead than Dark”

Melinda Kildare, antiquarian and rare book dealer extraordinaire, returns to her shop after an estate sale with a massive, sealed barrel. Too late, she discovers that the Aegis medallion that traps her head-first in the bottom of the barrel is the bait used by a family of vampires to capture and enslave women of power.

Light Warrior Damian Sinclair, who has battled the Dark Ones for centuries, answers Melinda’s call—the call of a lifemate. While protecting her from the Dark Ones who pursue her relentlessly, he introduces her to passion, love, and her heritage as a Shield Bearer of the Light.

Will they find happiness as they unite to fight the Dark Ones or fall victims to the Dark forces ranged against them?

Where can readers find out more about you and your books?

Check out my webpage/blog at http://ritabay.com/ where you’ll find daily posts about history and culture that you won’t see elsewhere. There’re also blurbs and excerpts of all my books. I also blog on Mondays with The Fantasy Folk at Worlds of the Imagination.

My Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/ritabayauthor) is a work in progress and my Twitter (https://twitter.com/ritabayauthor) is beyond abysmal.

My books are available at the following vendors and most other sites:

Champagne, Amazon, & Siren BookStrand.

Thank you, Dani, for inviting me to visit and thank you to the guests who drop by. As a special thank you, I’m offering an e-book copy of The Aegis to a commenter.

Rita Bay

The Aegis, Champagne Books, April, 2013

Her Teddy Bare, Carnal Passions May, 2013

Search & Rescue, Secret Cravings Publishing, July, 2013

Finding Eve, Champagne Books, September, 2013

Into the Lyons’ Den, Champagne Books, August, 2012

His Desire, Siren BookStrand, May, 2012

His Obsession, Siren BookStrand, April, 2012

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#SampleSunday – Proof Of Their Sin Mother’s Day

I couldn’t decide whether to do a #SampleSunday or an Ode To Motherhood. I know a lot of great moms, mine included–she got her own dedication in Proof Of Their Sin! So I could go on and on about moms, no problem.

I won’t claim to be one myself, by the way. I often say that my daughter is doing a marvelous job of raising our son and it’s no joke. She really is.

Anyway, I looked at my To Do list and figured it was less typing to do a #SampleSunday and I happen to have an excerpt from Proof Of Their Sin that shows how important becoming a mother is to Lauren.

By the way, if you or some hardworking mom you know wants a chance to win a signed copy of Proof Of Their Sin, please scroll to the bottom of the page and sign up for my newsletter. I’ll be drawing from my subscribers on launch day.

Here’s the excerpt:

“Three months since we were together, but I can see the weight gain starting. Is that why you slept with me? To disguise some married man’s bastard?”

“Oh, stop it!” she spat. “Have I asked you to be a father?” After losing her own and suffering Gerald as a substitute, she’d concluded that father figures were overrated. Her grandmother had filled all the necessary parental roles just fine thanks.

Wanting to finish with him before her delicate hold over her control slipped completely, she paced into the lounge, bypassing the narrow aisle between the sofa and coffee table for the wider band of area rug behind the furniture. As she spun, her skirt billowed in a way her lungs couldn’t. She was aware of his scrutiny like a scientist behind a mirrored wall, watching a distressed animal seek escape from its cage.

“Yes, people are going to notice soon that I’m pregnant,” she stated, trying to drag deeper breaths into her compressed lungs. “They’re going to speculate that it’s yours. I owed it to you to prepare you for that so here I am.”

“So you’re keeping it.” The words were flat and uninflected.

It was an unexpected blow that winded her.

“Of course I’m keeping it! I’ve waited years for a baby.” She tried to say it calmly, but she couldn’t help the residual fury over Ryan’s duplicity, letting her try to explain to his mother why they weren’t conceiving when he had privately known exactly why. “How can you suggest I not keep it? You’re Catholic. And don’t you dare ask if I slept with you to get pregnant. I’ll slap you, I swear I will. I thought I was infertile.”

She spun again, still pacing, feeling like one of those little metal ducks quacking her way along the upper ledge of a carnival tent. Paolo’s laser gaze seemed to track her like the red dot of a sniper’s rifle while he weighed her words.

“I know this baby looks like a disaster, but it’s a miracle.” Her agitation at having to explain without being able to explain kept her blood vessels tight, her muscles tense, her focus dim and narrow on the walls rushing by.

“I’m willing to minimize the damage by leaving the country, but it’s going to come out, Paolo.” She’d managed to ignore her anxiety over that eventuality, but it threatened to overwhelm her as she spoke of it. Her feet moved quicker and she felt the walls closing in. Her mother’s shame and disappointment, Ryan’s mother’s horrified incomprehension… It would be a nightmare and Lauren didn’t even have her grandmother to stand by her.

What she wanted, what she’d come here for, was rescue, she realized. Deep down, she had hoped for the same help and support he’d offered in Charleston.

She wasn’t going to get it though. She really was alone in this.

Eyes stinging at how inexorable it all was, Lauren made herself halt, growing aware that she was gasping breaths in, but was forgetting to let them out. A clammy sweat condensed on her skin and her vision faded to white. She was hyperventilating and even though she tried to make herself stop, panic at not tasting any oxygen stole her self control, making her try harder to catch her breath.

Paolo said her name in a sharp tone. She blindly looked to where she thought he was, but she couldn’t see him. Her hearing was muffled as though her ears were filling with water. She moved her lips, trying to tell him, trying…

How nice is this quote off the Amazon UK book description:

‘Whilst still a brand new author for Modern, I feel like I’ve been reading Dani for years! Love her stories!’ – Emma, 53, Henley

I recently blogged on CoffeeTimeRomance about what inspired the premise for Proof Of Their Sin.

I’ll also be chatting about Proof Of Their Sin with Sharon Buchbinder on Tuesday, May 14th and offering up another teaser. Please join us.

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#ThursdayThirteen – Authors On My TBR Pile

I call it a To Be Read ‘pile’, but they’re actually stashed around the house, in the cars (plural), and in various bags so I am always ready to take advantage of a spare moment should it present.

In no particular order, I’m currently reading:

Scarlet Wilson
Kate Hardy
Maya Blake
Abby Green
Maisey Yates
Lynn Raye Harris
Tawny Weber
Heidi Rice
Susan Stephens
Jane Porter
Rhonda Nelson
Kate St. James
Caitlin Crews

Anyone else start a book and then start another and then oh! That one looks good. I’ll just read a few pages then…

Sigh. So many stories, so few hours in a day.

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WOTI Wednesday – Graeme Brown

A lucky star of some kind smiled upon me and led me to a group of very generous writers, the ones I keep calling the Fantasy Folk, living communally at Worlds Of The Imagination.

We’re your typical band of merry travellers on a quest to bring stories to hungry readers and doing our best to keep each other alive in the sometimes harrowing landscape of today’s publishing.

To that end, I’ll be featuring interviews with each of them on Wednesdays over the next while, as their new releases become available. First up is Graeme Brown who is one of those Renaissance men who does it all: art, music, and writing. The Pact is Graeme’s first novel.

How long have you been writing, Graeme? How does it fit into the rest of your life? What are you besides a writer?

I have been writing since I was 8. This started with horror, then, after I discovered Tolkien, it became permanently fantasy, though I did try some science fiction. After two failed manuscripts, then the success of The Pact, I have finally got a plan together for the epic I’d like to tell. I have planned out several books to follow, not just in terms of the story, but in terms of complexity so that I can learn the lessons I need to learn before moving to the next. The final of these “books” will be a series, and I’m hoping the things I learn in writing the books before it will help me to keep my ducklings in a row. So, this means I will be writing for several years.

Besides writing, I am a full-time math and computer science student. I love these topics and look forward to doing research and maintaining a connection with the university throughout my life. Even if I could be a full-time writer, I would still go to the university and continue to learn a little, because I find it keeps lateralizing my mind and teaching me how to organize my thoughts.

What is your process like? Did this book give you any trouble or flow better than others?

The Pact was the book where I finally discovered the process that works for me. I used to just sit down and write, and hope things would work out. I am also not a good chess player. If I were a good chess player, perhaps this would work for me, but I, unfortunately, am very bad for making spontaneous choices that lead to check mate – that includes from midpoint onward in a novel. Unfortunately, a novel is seldom kind enough to tell you it’s game over, so I spent a long time worrying about why things just “didn’t seem right.” After all, I’d got it all to hang together, saw the manuscript through.

I took a course on outlining that taught me how to write from the bottom up: the premise, then three-part development, then each of the main inflections (opening sequence, turning point one, pinch one, midpoint, pinch two, turning point two, climax, resolution) and what characterizes them. Doing this, along with organized character and setting profiles, has helped me not only to prevent that unseen check-mate, it also helps me to stay connected to the draft when I write.

And, of course, I am always still learning. My current project, The Pact’s sequel (A Thousand Roads) is a lot more complex and I’m using techniques for outlining and drafting that I’ve discovered through the act of doing. However, what is really important is that it allows me to keep things together and, to my great relief, only have to write one draft then spend some time refining it a bit before it’s ready to submit.

What can readers look forward to next from you?

A Thousand Roads, a sequel to The Pact. I am moving into the last quarter of it, and usually write about 500-1000 words every day. I say it’s a sequel because it is not part of a series – the novels that follow The Pact follow the same epic arc, but are not strung together sequentially, nor do they follow the same characters per se.

A Thousand Roads is the story of Jak Fuller, Will’s close friend who we meet in The Pact, and it’s set three years after the events of that fateful night. The tale of a young man trying to find himself in a world full of intrigue and villains using him to advance the powers of the Underworld, it deals with more of the secrets behind the attack on Fort Lesterall and Jak’s unwitting part in it. It comes with a warning, though, because if anyone thought The Pact was a YA, or even a NA novel, they will quickly discover that my audience is definitely adults.

Back Cover Copy for The Pact:

Enter the world of Will Lesterall, a boy who’s grown up in the safety of his father’s castle.

Tales of the outside world ruled by warring kings and creatures of nightmare have never seemed a threat, yet on the night celebrating the two hundredth year of the sacred Pact that has kept Fort Lesterall safe, a secret intrigue ripens, and in the course of a few hours Will is confronted with a choice greater than he can comprehend.

Join an unlikely hero as destiny pulls him into the middle of an ancient conflict between fallen gods and ambitious women, one that demands blood, both holy and wicked, and the power of an ancient fire bound in steel. As swords clash below a watching wood, hope and betrayal war as fiercely as fear and valour.

Whether he lives or dies, Will Lesterall will never be the same.

Excerpt from The Pact:

The Stablehouse climbed three stories, a narrow building just twenty feet shy from touching the top of the double outer wall that surrounded the castle’s north flank. Lights shone in the top floor windows and a few others at ground level, where the horses were kept. Will hurried across the dark stones. The soft tap of his shoes against the cobbles echoed in the empty Square. In the middle, where the ground sloped down toward the sewer drains, the statue of Amarr the Barbarian cast a long shadow. Will passed into it and stopped. He heard voices.

Two men spoke in hushed tones, but their words carried when the wind wasn’t gusting.

“It’s that hag, I tell ya,” came one voice. “She’s roundin’ them up, preparing one of her big spells, she is. I heards there’s a sacrifice comin’, and she means to raise the dead.”

“Don’t be stupid, Roth.” Will recognized the raspy tone at once. It belonged to Mern, the whitesmith, whose half-slashed throat had never fully healed. Will squinted, but couldn’t see where the voices came from, other than realizing they drifted over from the dark, walled yard outside Hellistead’s Tavern.

“I’ll not have ya callin’ me stupid. Oh no. I know what this is about an’hoo. You’re just afraids, justs protectin’ yurself. Ya know whatcha got in it, ands I don’t blame you for bitin’ your tongue.”

“Quiet, you hay-brained crofter,” Mern spat. “Tonight’s not a night to whisper about such treacheries. The Lord Ham will cut your tongue out, and the world’ll be a better place for it if he does.”

“Old Cren will put it back, if he do, but I says he’d best act quick, or he’ll be lacking for the parts as fits him proper. The night’s black, Mern, and it’s gettin’ blacker yet.”

There was a hollow clatter, then sharp hisses. The man who spoke improperly cursed in words that would have made Grandma Mae gasp then Will heard quick footsteps and a series of clunks. He looked back to the castle, to where father gathered his fighters, then the other way, to the Stablehouse. If father’s in trouble, I have to warn him. Will knew his words wouldn’t be taken seriously, though.

He began to run across the stone expanse. Fort Lesterall won’t fall. Mern’s a wicked man, and whoever that other one is, he’s got no wits. Cren’s just an old woman who lives in the woods. She probably doesn’t even exist.

The side door to the Stablehouse opened as Will arrived, revealing a long labyrinth of stalls lit by rows of hanging lanterns. Jak peeked from behind the door, and Will slipped inside. When the older boy closed it, the dangerous night seemed far away. They were alone, Jak peering at Will, a curry comb still clasped in his hand. He was broad-limbed and of average height, with tousled hair the color of wet earth and eyes like onyx. As usual, he smelled of straw and horse manure, but that only made him all the more inviting.

Jak grinned. “I thought you’d hurry over after the feast proper. Too many clouds tonight, though. I’m afraid we won’t be spying Hell’s Cap, but I’ve another surprise for you. Found it myself, last night.”

“We won’t be going to the groves, Jak.” Will lowered his voice. “The Unborns are going to attack. Alter Dun showed the Red Token. That means the Unborns have challenged us. The Pact is broken. Even as we speak, my father’s gathering an army.”

“Of course he is.” Will turned toward the metal spiral stair. Barrik, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair and a bushy moustache, bent his impressive height as he descended from the second floor serving quarters. “I’ve a hundred retainers to see to and that’s lots of horseshit, my little prince. A good thing they’ve taken to the barracks. I’m full, and there’s a thousand more coming, twenty companies marching under you uncle’s banner knight, Telliken. If we hold the night, then there will be others, and we’ll feed the Unborns hell like they haven’t seen in centuries. But if what I’ve heard’s true, then they have hell to feed us first, before we can draw breath.”

Will gaped at the Master of Stables then shook his head fiercely. “Fort Lesterall cannot fall.”

Barrik grunted, though it sounded like a laugh. He picked up a pail and carried it to a nearby stall. “I wish I believed that, lad, but this world’s not run on luck, I’m afraid. A man forges his own blade then learns to use it, or he gets cut by everyone around him. This world’s a fierce battlefield, a bitch with a thousand teeth.”

“We can fight with them,” Jak insisted. “I’ve practiced with the sword you gave me lots of times in the groves. I’m not bad.”

“You would be with armor on.” Barrik came out of the stall with a pail full of black dung. He looked at Will, at Jak, his expression grave. “No, you boys have another errand…

Where can readers find you and your books?

The Pact is now available as an ebook on the Burst Books website:

Website: http://www.graemebrownart.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GraemeBrownWpg

Add The Pact to Goodreads

Thanks for visiting, Graeme. Good luck with The Pact.

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#SampleSunday – Proof Of Their Sin Prologue

It’s Sunday morning, I’m thinking of calling in disaster relief for my desk, I opened up my banking program to get that started, then decided to write a teaser for Proof Of Their Sin.

Proof Of Their Sin is my North American print debut. The ebook is available for pre-order now and will be released mid-June. The print books will be on the shelves July 1st, which is such a big deal, my entire country will hold parades and concerts and set off fireworks. (Okay, that’ll be for Canada Day, but give me this one. It’s been a long time coming.)

(photo courtesty of Federation of Quebec Maple Syrup Producers)

I’ll be starting a blog tour shortly and offering giveaway copies so stay tuned for those dates and locations. I’ll also be drawing from my newsletter subscriber list for a signed copy. (I gave away my first copy yesterday to my Mom. My Large Print editions arrived in time for her birthday which was nice.)

There will also be a proper launch and signing at some point, details to be announced when I get my act together.

Proof Of Their Sin Teaser:

This scene is not included in the book, only referenced. Lauren married Paolo’s best friend, Ryan, five years ago. Ryan is a special ops, high octane kind of guy, and just went MIA. Paolo was also prone to risk and fast-living until he had to take over his Italian family’s international bank about the time Lauren married. Lauren and Paolo have always been attracted to each other and always fought letting the other see it.

Lauren sat inside the mansion as directed. It was too cold to sit outside her mother-in-law insisted. Maybe it was a windy day in Charleston, but Lauren’s flight had barely made it out of the snowstorm in Montreal so the weather here was merely brisk.

Paparazzi surrounded the place. That was the real reason Lauren was supposed to stay indoors. She didn’t argue. It wasn’t her way. She sat in the oppressive silence broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock, avoiding eye contact with her in-laws as they all waited for the phone to ring. No, she replied when asked, she wasn’t hungry. No one was hungry.

Did they know what she’d done?

She adjusted her rings, the ones she’d put back on her finger as the taxi had approached her husband’s ancestral home. The platinum was cold. Her hands were frozen. Icy knives turned in her. Was it her fault? Had she driven Ryan to take chances by asking for a divorce?

Why wouldn’t anyone tell them what was going on?

Military, she thought, and another slice of guilt cut through her. She shouldn’t have tried to circumvent such a power by calling Paolo, but he was Ryan’s best friend and very well connected.

He hadn’t called back though. That was a thousand messages in itself about his contempt for her and his respect for Ryan’s job.

Everyone loved Ryan.

Except her.

She made her hands sit still in her lap. Her blood thickened like concrete, making all of her feel stony and dead. Calling Paolo had been foolish. It made her look desperate in the wrong way. If he ever did speak to her, he’d say something horrible about her contacting him like that, claim she’d been coming on to him or something. She just knew it.

If only she could take it back, all of it. What did it matter if Ryan had cheated? She should have been like her mother and kept quiet, just being thankful she had a husband at all.

Did she have a husband? She had wanted a divorce, not this. When would it end? When would they hear?

Outside, where the media kept up a low buzz like a workaday hive, a commotion suddenly arose. A car door slammed and shouts rose to rabid levels.

News, Lauren though, and her heart stalled with dread.

She numbly let her gaze follow Ryan’s sister as she left the room. The front door opened and closed, locking out the din of reporters literally screaming for a headline.

Holding her breath, she listened as measured footsteps crossed marble.

Paolo Donatelli entered the lounge.

Oh.

He looked awful, not that a man that handsome could ever look truly terrible, but he had deep shadows under his reddened eyes. His cheeks were hollow beneath the stubble on his jaw. The sensual mouth that always drew her gaze when he spoke was pulled down at the corners into an anguished line.

His scanning gaze found her and locked, not wavering as he walked straight toward her. The forcefield off him seemed to come up against the safety shields she’d erected around herself. She felt the tension like two bubbles butting up against one another.

He sat down on the ottoman in front of her knees and reached for her lifeless hands. With an unexpected blip, the wall between them disintegrated and they were trapped inside a single, airless orb. Everything beyond them was a soapy blur.

The force of his grip caused feeling to seep upward from her crushed fingers.  Like maple sap bleeding into the cells of a tree after a long, hard winter, tiny vessels were forced to expand and stung with the pressure. It hurt, but felt like life returning at the same time. The shell around her heart developed stress fractures and began to crack.

Paolo’s dark eyes looked into the very depths of her soul.

“Cara, I’m so sorry.”

Want to know what happens next? Proof Of Their Sin is part of a mini-series called One Night With Consequences. *wink* I’m thinking of writing the One Night scene as an exclusive for a Street Team–if I ever find time to organize one. What do you think?

Remember to scroll all the way to the bottom and sign up for my newsletter if you’d like to be entered to win a signed copy of Proof Of Their Sin.

And I just received an email that my interview is up on Audra Middleton’s site. She’s one of my Fantasy Folk friends from Worlds Of The Imagination. Come say hi.

 

 

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Can’t keep up? Me either.

My daughter said one of her friends was not a good teenager because she often forgot to check Facebook or reply to texts. In fact, this particular girl was known to misplace her phone for days at a time. #TeenageGirlFail, right?

Well, I’m a terrible published author. Back in March I totally zoned on announcing The Healer in the newsletter for my writer’s group (RWA-GVC). Thankfully, the kind editors there gave me a second chance. I also missed the Champagne newsletter for April and took my lumps on that one. Natural consequences, you know.

Today I realized I dropped the ball on announcing I was RomanceBeckons’ Author Focus yesterday (Friday, April 26th) where I discuss writing for multiple genres (all romance) and how it came about. I’m not going to make excuses, but I will be proactive and remind you that I’ll be chatting on LoveRomancesCafe next Friday (May 3rd) with the Fantasy Folk. There will be giveaways.

Now I’m going back to my revisions because I may be a #BadPublishedAuthor but I am a #DedicatedWriter.

 

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