Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published fiction and nonfiction author. For twenty years, she's worked in the fields of journalism and advertising with a brief detour into the financial industry.
Although she holds a BA in Communications & Journalism, she is a perpetual student of life who enjoys taking classes on a wide variety of subjects when time allows.
Smart is sexy, according to Easton, which is why she writes about strong female characters who have their flaws and challenges but ultimately persevere. She currently has two romantic suspense novels out in the world, Kiss Me Slowly and Riptide, with four more slated for publication in 2013.
In addition to fiction writing, Easton also edits and freelances via Moxie Girl Writing & Editing. She also speaks on subjects ranging from writing to widowhood. Some of her videos on romance writing have appeared on the international Writers & Authors television network. Current radio appearances are linked via this site and her blog Kisses, Caresses & Whispers in the Night.
Easton currently lives with her two teenagers in the Colorado Rocky Mountains where she gives thanks daily for the gorgeous view outside her window. She finds inspiration from traveling, the people she meets, nature and life’s twists and turns. At the end of the day, as long as she's writing, she considers herself to be simply "a lucky lady liv'n the dream."
Here's the blurb for Amber's latest release Reckless Endangerment :
Colonel Michael Cedars is a wounded marine returning home from Afghanistan. He’s partially paralyzed with his left leg, unsure how to fit into civilian life again after being career military and questions whether or not he still wants to be married to his wife, Hope.
Hope Shane is a natural wild child. She met the Colonel while working as a war correspondent, watched him get blown up and returned to Denver, Colorado to bring him home. She’s an investigative reporter who becomes tangled up in a human trafficking story. As far as Michael wanting a divorce and giving up on life, she’s not one to surrender the fight. That goes for the helpless victims in the story she’s chasing...nothing will stop her until she has truth and justice.
As the danger of Hope’s story intensifies, Michael is tested more than he ever imagined. Is he capable of being the husband she needs? Will he hold her back or, worse yet, get her killed? Is Hope and her penchant for finding trouble a liability he can’t risk? Or is he still the hero sh
e claims him to
Heroes come in many forms--soldiers who fall and rise, women who battle for their marriage, reporters who fight for truth and justice, and men who would put it all on the line for the women they love.
Now A Taste of Amber:
“Maybe I need to stop trying to hold on. Maybe you’re right.” Sighing, her shoulders
were this close,” she held her fingers an inch
apart, “to having a life together when everything blew up in our faces.
Literally. What else do I have to lose, right? I already lost my
dignity when I begged those damn bureaucrats to let me see you in
Germany. And when I say begged, I mean I begged, pleaded, bartered,
whatever I could possibly say or do to get in and then they told me that you,”
she pointed at him, “said no, you told them I lied about being married to
you. And McGee backed you up. I looked like a fool and a liar.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“And now you’re doing it again. Denying me. You’d rather sit in this place alone than admit to the world that I’m your wife. It’s true.” She nodded at that, eyes gluing him in place. “I gave up my everything for you, soldier boy. My life. My pride. My dignity. I gave it all up for you.”
“Why?” he choked out the question. “I did everything to get you to let me go. I didn’t want you to give up your life for me, can’t you see that? You were born to be in the spotlight, dodging bullets, charming your way into and out of trouble. I’m an anchor to you now, you know it, too, but refuse to admit it. I want you to forget me. Why won’t you let me go?”
She closed her eyes, head tilted toward the ceiling. “Because maybe I went crazy over there. Maybe we weren’t this close,” again with the fingers, “to having a life together. Maybe we were already there. Maybe it wasn’t conventional but it was real, it was us. Maybe I misunderstood sex for more. Maybe I thought that our wedding meant as much to you as it did me. Maybe I’m the biggest fool to walk planet earth.”
“But now I’m broken so…” He hated himself for the words coming from his own mouth.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Nodding, she looked away from him and brushed the back of her hand over her eyes. “And I’m too shallow to be the person you need, right? Too superficial? I know the truth. I know you should be capable of limited mobility, that you are not trapped in that chair, that you have sensations in your right leg and have even managed to stand for a brief period of time here and there. Didn’t you think I’d do some research on your injuries? I may have kept my distance, but I have a knack for getting people to talk to me, remember that? Yes, you’re in a wheelchair, but your situation isn’t hopeless. You’re the one who gave up, but for the life of me I don’t know why. It’s not like you. You’re a goddamn Colonel in the Marine Corps. You don’t surrender, so what’s going on with you?”
Her words stung. He had heard them for months now. And he didn’t know the answer. He simply couldn’t explain anything to anyone, not even himself.
“You need to be in New York or in the middle of the action. You’re the It Girl, right? Headed for a network anchor job one day? Maybe your own show? Watch out Manhattan, here comes Shane. You’ll have them eating from your hands within months.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as I thought,” she said with a bitter twist of her mouth. “I’ve been waiting…don’t you see? I could care less about a network job and you know it.” She finished stuffing the spilled contents into her bag before standing. “I love you. I thought you loved me, too. Until you can look me in the eye and tell me you don’t, that you never did, I’ll keep coming back.”
He grabbed the frames from the cushion of the sofa where she’d tossed them and looked at the broken glass. Guilt and confusion ate away at his brain.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like for me not to know what to do? I was a decorated officer. I made decisions minute by minute that affected the lives of my unit, yet I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to do about this,” he smacked the chair, “I don’t know what to do about you and I definitely don’t know what to do about Dalton. I’m fucked up. I hate not knowing what to do. You’re right...it’s not like me. Don’t you think I know that?”
With a muttered curse, she sat on the edge of the sofa and blinked at the ceiling. For the first time, he noticed that her hands trembled as they gripped the strap of her bag. The room seemed abnormally quiet without her storming around and threatening him. He didn’t like her docile and reflective...it threw him off.
“I’m sure it’s hell. You were always in command. For months now, you’ve had one surgery after another, been under constant care with zero privacy, me pestering you with my endless notes and your family hauling you across the country without anyone asking what you want. No one is respecting the officer in the room,” she said after a long pause.
He squinted at her. “Exactly. People talk about me rather than to me.”
“Yet expect you to snap out of your funk and get on with your life.”
“But I don’t know what that means.” It bothered him that she understood him so well. Her understanding shook his resolve, weakened his resistance.
“And you haven’t tried because you’ve been mourning your old life and don’t know what the new life is yet.”
“Everyone thinks I’m a rotten, self-pitying bastard.”
“Because that’s what you want us to think so we leave you alone.” She shoved both hands through her hair and sighed. “You’re exhausting.”
“I know.” He smiled for the first time in months. “I exhaust myself, too. I’m really sick of my crap.”
“Well, that’s something.” She grinned, eyes dark with defeat. “I haven’t respected the officer in the room, have I?” She skimmed her thumb across the scar on his forehead. “I love you, if that means anything to you at all.”
“It means something to me.” He snagged her hand but she yanked it away as she stood.
“My business card is on the table near the sofa if you need me, w
to talk or whatever. My cell phone number is on the back.” She hesitated
at the door before looking at him over her shoulder. “I want my husband
Pleasure to host you, Amber!
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