A Warm Welcome to Amber Lea Easton

  

Amber Lea Easton began writing stories as a nine year-old girl living in a small town in South Dakota.  Her first “book” at that age was called “The House on the Hill”, eighty pages of blood and gore where no one survived at the end.  Fortunately, puberty hit and the stories evolved to romance.  She spent her high school years writing stories in notebooks, passing them around in study hall and getting in trouble for “scribbling” during algebra class.  Childhood storytelling transitioned to a BA degree in Communications and Journalism with a career in journalism and advertising, but fiction writing remained her biggest passion.  
An avid traveler, Easton incorporates real life adventures into her work as often as possible (minus the illegal activities her fictional characters get involved with--she swears). A widowed mother of two teens, Easton lives in the Colorado Rocky Mountains where she writes, plays with her dogs, and practices gratitude daily. 

            Follow Amber Lea Easton on Twitter, Facebook or her website at http://amberleaeaston.com. 

Here's the blurb for Kiss Me Slowly:

            Trapped in a set-up that could have him in jail or dead by Monday, Jonathan Alexander trusts no one in his inner circle.  It’s Saturday.  His only hope is Grace Dupont, the best forensic accountant in Miami.  But there’s a glitch with that idea. She's also his ex-girlfriend who would rather watch him drown than throw him a life vest.  Going to her feels desperate...because he is.        
Grace enjoys seeing Jonathan squirm.  On your knees boy, she thinks as he pitches for her help.  Always a sucker for the dark-haired-blue-eyed boys, she risks her precariously balanced life of secrets to help him.  Helping him slaps a target on her back--she's the key to proving his innocence and that's a bad, bad thing.

            Tangled up in whirlwind of conspiracy, murder, million dollar money trails and diamond smuggling, Jonathan and Grace flee to the sea to stall for time to prove his innocence.  Romance sizzles beneath Florida Keys’ sunshine.  Both scoff at happy endings.  Both doubt justice.  Both know each kiss could be their last.

And the blurb for Riptide (coming August 2012):

            One violent night shatters Lauren Biltmore’s life. As an anchorwoman, she's accustomed to reporting the news rather than being the lead story.  She escapes the spotlight by fleeing to her brother's home in the Cayman Islands. Haunted by nightmares, all she wants is a distraction from reality.

            Distraction arrives via sexy screenwriter, Noah Reynolds. His take-me-to-bed looks mask a past ripe with scandal. He knows he should stay away from Lauren, especially when the worst night of her life unlocks his writer's block and while he's dealing with a stalker of his own, but ethics are his weakness.

            Attraction sizzles beneath Caribbean sunshine. As their relationship grows, Noah's stalker intensifies her torment. Lauren wonders if her paranoia is justified or a carryover from her past. What's real? What's imagined?

            Tentative trust is tested as their love is swept up against a riptide of deceit, murder, and revenge.

Before treating us to some excerpts, Amber Reveals:

From where do you get your inspiration and what inspired you to write your latest book?

           People fascinate and inspire me--what makes them tick, what do they hide and why. Because of this fascination, all of my stories are emotional high-stakes poker games where my main characters have a lot to lose.
      As for my latest story, Riptide, my own experience with a stalker inspired the story.  Back in my 20s, I survived a rather horrific situation--although my reality pales in comparison to the brutality of my main character (trust me--I didn’t kill anyone).  Although I’ve framed it in a romantic suspense novel, the post traumatic stress and creepiness are born from reality. 

In a couple of sentences, describe the hero’s character.  What do you like best/least about him?

            Riptide:  Noah Reynolds is thoughtful, smart, compassionate, non-judgmental and generous. I love this guy.  What do I like least?  He expects the worst from people rather than the best.  He’s not a trusting man, which makes him more of a cynic than an optimist.

            Kiss Me Slowly: Jonathan Alexander III is romantic, brave, smart, and loyal.  What do I like least? He’s stubborn and almost loyal to a fault. 

 And the heroine?  How do you relate to her?

            Riptide:  The heroine is Lauren Biltmore.  I relate to her because she’s starting life over after having it forcefully interrupted.  She has a lot to piece together, a lot of self-doubt to overcome.  She’s incredibly strong, a survivor.

            Kiss Me Slowly: Grace Dupont is very smart but misunderstood by many.  She’s prefers keeping to herself and doesn’t trust easily.  I’m not sure those are good qualities to relate to, but that’s the truth. 

Who controls the story--you or your characters?

            My characters drive the story, but I’m very much in control of making their lives miserable with twists and turns that keep the suspense interesting.  They are definitely the driving force, though, the heart and soul. 

What do you enjoy most about writing romance?

            Love is universal.  Whether people want to admit it or not, we’re all seeking it.  If life isn’t about love, then what’s the point?  I also love happy endings and seeing how my characters come together to overcome great obstacles. 

 What can we look forward to you in the near future?

            Well, Riptide will be out in August, which I’m so excited about I can barely sit still.  After that, I have Reckless Endangerment coming out around Thanksgiving time--that’s a story about a wounded marine coming home from Afghanistan and having a hard time adjusting to life as a civilian.  On top of that, his wife is a reporter immersed in a human trafficking story that tosses another wrench into their lives. Oh--and that’s the difference with that story--they’re married already and are trying to save their marriage through a lot of turmoil. 

 How do you like to spend your free time?

            I love hiking, hanging out with my two teenagers (yes, it’s the truth--we actually have a lot of fun), going to concerts, meeting friends for lunch, going to movies, taking classes on a wide variety of subjects, and traveling. 

 What would you most like to accomplish this year?

            I’m writing a nonfiction book about guiding children through grief based on my own experience following my husband’s death.  I’m actually having a much harder time writing this than I do fiction.  If I manage to finish it, that will be a huge accomplishment.  Right now I keep starting and stopping it.  We’ll see. I’m only doing it because, when I was a young widow with very young children, I couldn’t find adequate resources to let me know that what I was going through was normal.  I decided that if I ever got through it I’d write something so no one else would feel that alone.  Like I said, we’ll see.

 What is your culinary specialty?

            Breakfast food.  I make a killer omelet.  Oh, and chili, which isn’t a breakfast food, but I make a spicy batch. 

And now A Taste of Amber:

Kiss Me Slowly excerpt:

She slipped the oversized T-shirt over her head and began working side-by-side with him. Rhythm and Blues resonated throughout the house. His legs stretched next to hers, fine dust settled in his dark hair from the meticulous work.

“I like this,” she said.

“Like what? Manual labor?”

It was more than that, but words escaped her.

“I started doing all of this because I needed to keep busy, keep moving, keep my mind distracted.” He fingered the sandpaper, a distant expression on his face. Dust grayed his hair and shirt, bare feet poked out from the frayed hem of his jeans. “Have you done that? Have you purposely distracted yourself from dealing with what happened to you?”

Here we go. Serious discussion. With a sigh, she pressed her back against the cabinet opposite him, their bare feet touching in the middle of the floor.

She didn’t want to go there—to that place of honesty that everyone from her therapist to her best friend Janet had begged her to go for months—but Austin had been right when he’d said Noah was an easy person to talk to. Despite his take-me-to-bed-and-strip-me-naked looks, he exuded compassion.

 “Work did that for as long as possible until I couldn’t...do it anymore. And exercise. What is it they say? Endorphins are nature’s anti-depressants? Something like that.”

“It’s paid off.” His gaze slipped over her bare legs.

She melted. “Well, your house looks great. Distraction has paid off for you, too.”

“I suppose it has.” His laugh reminded her of secrets and promises and whispers in the night.

“You’re a proponent of distraction then?” She crawled toward him. Consequences be damned, her hormones screamed. Fear had ruled her life for too long. She wanted her freedom back. She needed a diversion. She craved a taste of him.

“What’re you doing?” He dropped the back of his head against the cabinet and watched her through half-closed eyes. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Why not? Are you scared?” Hands braced over his head. Boldness pumped through her .

 “Terrified.”

“Know what I find irresistible?”

“I have an idea.”

 “I’m a real mess, you know.” She had to say it, warn him, give him a chance to push her away.

“So am I. Together we’d be a disaster.” His fingers slid beneath the T-shirt, skimmed her bare back, and teased under the strap of the swimsuit. “Am I your distraction then? Something to keep you busy? Is that what this is about, Lauren? Do you want to use me to distract you?”

His question stopped her from taking what she wanted. A fraction from his lips, she stared into those whiskey-colored eyes. “Maybe. Does that bother you?”

“Probably should, if I had any sense or moral decency, but not really.” He yanked the T-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. “Last chance for you to run away, no hard feelings.”

“I’m tired of running away.” She brushed her lips against his. A taste is what she wanted, needed like oxygen. “No strings. No complications.”

“This could get complicated.” He smiled against her mouth.

“Not if we’re clear about what we want.” With one pull, she tore those two buttons free from his shirt. Finally. Skin. “I don’t want deep or complicated. No plans. Just sex. Easy.”

“Just sex, huh?” He grabbed her ass and pulled her close. “I like easy, uncomplicated, string-free sex.”

  Their mouths met and devoured one another, tongues clashing.  Her hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, skimming over his chest. She needed more, wanted more. That she barely knew him didn’t matter. What mattered was that he made her feel alive for the first time in months, that he knew about her past and didn’t give a damn.

He rolled her onto her back, thigh slipping between hers. Their mouths never parted. The denim on his leg rubbed against her bare thigh. His weight pressed her into the plastic that covered the hard tiles.

She arched upward, craving contact. She pulled his shirt off, her hands needing to touch the hardness of his shoulders. Touching him, tasting him, feeling his mouth on her skin and his hips pressing into hers reaffirmed that she was alive in every possible way.

“Why do I feel like I’m going to burn in hell for this?” he asked against her open mouth.

“Now who’s over thinking things?” She tugged at his lower lip with her mouth.

Riptide excerpt:

She slipped the oversized T-shirt over her head and began working side-by-side with him. Rhythm and Blues resonated throughout the house. His legs stretched next to hers, fine dust settled in his dark hair from the meticulous work.

“I like this,” she said. 

“Like what? Manual labor?”

It was more than that, but words escaped her. 

“I started doing all of this because I needed to keep busy, keep moving, keep my mind distracted.” He fingered the sandpaper, a distant expression on his face. Dust grayed his hair and shirt, bare feet poked out from the frayed hem of his jeans. “Have you done that? Have you purposely distracted yourself from dealing with what happened to you?”

Here we go. Serious discussion. With a sigh, she pressed her back against the cabinet opposite him, their bare feet touching in the middle of the floor. 

She didn’t want to go there—to that place of honesty that everyone from her therapist to her best friend Janet had begged her to go for months—but Austin had been right when he’d said Noah was an easy person to talk to. Despite his take-me-to-bed-and-strip-me-naked looks, he exuded compassion.

 “Work did that for as long as possible until I couldn’t...do it anymore. And exercise. What is it they say? Endorphins are nature’s anti-depressants? Something like that.”

“It’s paid off.” His gaze slipped over her bare legs. 

She melted. “Well, your house looks great. Distraction has paid off for you, too.”

“I suppose it has.” His laugh reminded her of secrets and promises and whispers in the night.

“You’re a proponent of distraction then?” She crawled toward him. Consequences be damned, her hormones screamed. Fear had ruled her life for too long. She wanted her freedom back. She needed a diversion. She craved a taste of him. 

“What’re you doing?” He dropped the back of his head against the cabinet and watched her through half-closed eyes. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Why not? Are you scared?” Hands braced over his head. Boldness pumped through her . 

 “Terrified.” 

“Know what I find irresistible?” 

“I have an idea.” 

 “I’m a real mess, you know.” She had to say it, warn him, give him a chance to push her away.

“So am I. Together we’d be a disaster.” His fingers slid beneath the T-shirt, skimmed her bare back, and teased under the strap of the swimsuit. “Am I your distraction then? Something to keep you busy? Is that what this is about, Lauren? Do you want to use me to distract you?” 

His question stopped her from taking what she wanted. A fraction from his lips, she stared into those whiskey-colored eyes. “Maybe. Does that bother you?” 

“Probably should, if I had any sense or moral decency, but not really.” He yanked the T-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. “Last chance for you to run away, no hard feelings.”

“I’m tired of running away.” She brushed her lips against his. A taste is what she wanted, needed like oxygen. “No strings. No complications.” 

“This could get complicated.” He smiled against her mouth. 

“Not if we’re clear about what we want.” With one pull, she tore those two buttons free from his shirt. Finally. Skin. “I don’t want deep or complicated. No plans. Just sex. Easy.”

“Just sex, huh?” He grabbed her ass and pulled her close. “I like easy, uncomplicated, string-free sex.”

  Their mouths met and devoured one another, tongues clashing.  Her hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, skimming over his chest. She needed more, wanted more. That she barely knew him didn’t matter. What mattered was that he made her feel alive for the first time in months, that he knew about her past and didn’t give a damn. 

He rolled her onto her back, thigh slipping between hers. Their mouths never parted. The denim on his leg rubbed against her bare thigh. His weight pressed her into the plastic that covered the hard tiles. 

She arched upward, craving contact. She pulled his shirt off, her hands needing to touch the hardness of his shoulders. Touching him, tasting him, feeling his mouth on her skin and his hips pressing into hers reaffirmed that she was alive in every possible way. 

“Why do I feel like I’m going to burn in hell for this?” he asked against her open mouth.

“Now who’s over thinking things?” She tugged at his lower lip with her mouth.

LINKS:  Kiss Me Slowly currently available in paperback and all ebook formats from Amazon (http://amzn.to/rUH17M ) AmazonUK (http://amzn.to/I6P8UA ) , BarnesandNoble (http://bit.ly/vafDAb)  and Bookstrand.com (http://bit.ly/v0HczI ). 

To stay up to date on Riptide’s release, please follow Amber's Facebook page http://on.fb.me/Hh7ZNk , Twitter as MtnMoxieGirl or follow her author blog http://amberleaeaston.blogspot.com .

Delighted to host you, Amber. I wish you great success with Riptide!

Now leave a comment for the chance to win a signed paperback copy of
Kiss Me Slowly

A Warm Welcome to Janet Mullany

Janet Mullany, granddaughter of an Edwardian housemaid, was born in England but now lives near Washington, DC. Her debut book was Dedication, the only Signet Regency to have two bondage scenes (and which was reissued with even more sex in April 2012 from Loose-Id). Her next book, The Rules of Gentility (HarperCollins 2007) was acquired by Little Black Dress (UK) for whom she wrote three more Regency chicklits, A Most Lamentable Comedy, Improper Relations, and Mr. Bishop and the Actress. Her career as a writer who does terrible things to Jane Austen began in 2010 with the publication of Jane and the Damned (HarperCollins), and Jane Austen: Blood Persuasion (2011) about Jane as a vampire, and a modern retelling of Emma, Little to Hex Her, in the anthology Bespelling Jane Austen headlined by Mary Balogh.

She also writes contemporary erotic fiction for Harlequin, Tell Me More (2011) and Hidden Paradise (September, 2012).
Here's Janet's latest release:

The Malorie Phoenix by Janet Mullany 
BLURB: Benedict de Malorie, Earl of Trevisan, can never forget the masked woman he met one night at a London pleasure garden. The clever pickpocket stole his heart and his family's prized jewel – the Malorie Phoenix. But the family treasure reappears in Benedict's darkest hour, returned by its thief, along with the unexpected gift of his infant daughter. 

Believing that she is dying, Jenny Smith leaves her daughter in the custody of the baby’s blueblood father. Seven years later she finds herself in good health and alone, yearning for her only child. To raise enough money to support them both, she takes part in a daring escapade that requires her to impersonate a woman of quality. She fools the ton and Benedict himself.

When Jenny finds herself entangled in a murderous plot against Benedict, the father of her child, her carefully laid plans begin to fall apart. All she wants is her daughter back, but she never thought she'd fall in love with Benedict. Revealing her part in the plot means she will almost certainly lose Benedict and their daughter forever. But continuing to play her role puts them all in terrible danger.

Before treating us to an excerpt, Janet Reveals:
From where do you get inspiration and what inspired you to write The Malorie Phoenix?

The Malorie Phoenix is based mostly on a manuscript that finaled in the 2003 Golden Heart. I recycled the hero and the villain but I recycled the heroine from another ms. I’m very big on recycling, sometimes hunting through fragments to find one sentence I can’t bear to waste. I became fascinated with the idea of a heroine originally from a very poor background impersonating a gentlewoman. How could she get away with it? Why wouldn’t anyone recognize her? What would she need to know and how would she learn?

In a couple of sentences, describe the hero’s character.  What do you like best/least about him?

Benedict de Malorie inherited his title unexpectedly and under tragic circumstances, and on the worst night of his life discovered he had an infant daughter to care for. He’s determined to protect his name and family honor and do his best for those in his care. It’s only that he’s so proud and sarcastic (like most of my heroes) that stops him being absolutely unbearably perfect. And, oh yeah, he’s hot. What’s not to love … well, I don’t like that he’s an aristocrat. I prefer to write about commoners now, but then I was trying to crack the romance code.

And the heroine? How do you relate to her?

Jenny Smith is a survivor in a time when women and the poor are of little account and steals and lies to make a living. She makes the terrible decision to give her child into the care of the baby’s father when she thinks she’s dying. And later she’ll do almost anything to get her daughter back. I loved the idea of having a very low born woman masquerade as a woman of quality, and had to come up with a plausible backstory to make it possible.

What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your books?

A sense that they’ve been moved and entertained, and that the characters will stay with them for a while. And naturally that they’ll rush out to buy my backlist! I think one of the things we’ve lost with ebooks is that you can no longer press a book into someone’s hands and say “You must read this!” It’s a shame.

What do you think are the main ingredients for a successful book?

Strong writing. I can forgive a lot if the writing has style and flair. I tend to judge books by how well they distract me on my commute (by Washington DC Metro). If I miss a stop, that’s a very good book. If I get on the wrong line because I’m reading at the station and not paying attention and don’t notice until it’s too late, that’s an excellent book.

Have you ever suffered from writer's block?

I don’t suffer from writer’s block as such—I can always squeeze something out knowing I can go back and clean it up later. I think it’s important to keep the story going, if necessary jumping ahead and returning later. The most successful writers I know are ones who regularly write a couple thousand words a day: productivity is so important in genre fiction. A kitchen timer set for 20 minutes works for me, as does having music playing. It’s a wonderful feeling when the words just flow, but it can be hard to get to that point.

What is the best writing advice you have ever received?

I’ll turn this around by saying that hearing “You can’t do that in a romance,” and ignoring it and doing it anyway because I knew it was right was the best writing advice I gave myself. The other advice, which I knew instinctively, was to read, and read very widely, something I’d done for years before I started writing. It’s the way you develop your voice, and you get a feel for what works in fiction and what doesn’t.

What can we look forward to from you in the near future?

My next book is an erotic contemporary from Harlequin, Hidden Paradise in September 2012. It’s about an Austen-themed resort where people lose their inhibitions and their authentic Regency clothes. What happens at Paradise Hall stays in Paradise Hall!

What was your favourite book as a child/teen/adult? Are you currently reading anything?

I loved the Narnia books by C.S. Lewis. I still do, despite their heavy handed religious message (and sexism, racism, you name it). I’m currently reading Mrs. Robinson’s Disgrace: The Private Diary of a Victorian Lady by Kate Summerscale. It’s about how things were changing for women in the mid nineteenth century when the divorce laws changed, and how a middle-aged, middle-class woman kept a diary of her love affairs.

What is your culinary speciality?

I make very good bread. I find getting my hands in dough very calming and the process is always surprising and wonderful. I blogged about it here. http://riskyregencies.blogspot.com/2012/03/all-about-bread.html

Now A Taste of Janet:

She recognized him immediately although he had changed. The man who stood there was taller, a little broader in the shoulder, with a wary, damaged look in his eyes—a man who had reason to mistrust the world. His hair sprang back from his brow as she remembered, a streak of white where seven years ago she had seen the raw red of a burn.

"Ladies." He bowed. His voice was as she remembered, deep, resonant, beautiful.
 "You are come at a happy time, Trevisan. Look who has arrived this hour from the Continent!"
 He straightened, his golden eyes cold as he looked at her. "Indeed. The lost lamb is returned to the fold."
He looked down to one side as a small figure stepped from behind him. "Ladies, I should like to introduce my daughter, Miss Sarah de Malorie."
My friends call me Malorie.
His face softened as he placed one hand on the child's shoulder. She looked at them with solemn eyes beneath a cloud of dark curls.
Her eyes had changed color, now the same dark-rimmed golden eyes of her father, and her face echoed his, in a smaller and more feminine form—the promise of high cheekbones above childishly rounded cheeks. Jenny remembered the cloudy blue eyes of an infant who had just learned to smile, the wide stretch of her tiny pink mouth. Forgive me.
Beside Jenny, Mrs. Stanley sucked her breath in sharply. "Good afternoon." Sarah's voice was soft and sweet. She looked at her father for approval. None of the Stanley family moved. Jenny stepped forward. "Good afternoon, Sarah."Her daughter hesitated before an answering smile lit up her face. She tucked one foot behind the other and dropped a neat, elegant curtsy.
Forgive me.

Follow the rest of Janet's tour here

Janet's Links:  Website:www.janetmullany.com Twitter @Janet_Mullany Facebook:http://www.facebook.com/pages/Janet-Mullany-Author/144530775580812
  Amazon buy linkclick here

Thanks for having me visit! 
Thank you for dropping by. Pleasure to meet you!

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A Warm Welcome to Sherry Gloag

Multi-published author, Sherry Gloag is a transplanted Scot now living in the beautiful coastal countryside of Norfolk, England.  She considers the surrounding countryside as extension of her own garden, to which she escapes when she needs "thinking time" and solitude to work out the plots for her next novel.  While out walking she enjoys talking to her characters, as long as there are no other walkers close by.

Apart from writing, Sherry enjoys gardening, walking, reading and cheerfully admits her books tend to take over most of the shelf and floor space in her workroom-cum-office.  She also finds crystal craft work therapeutic.

Here's what Sherry has to say about the craft of writing -
Words and Jigsaws:

Writing a book is a bit like building a jigsaw puzzle.  If you fail to place the correct piece in the right place, whether you’re convinced you have put it in the only place that fit, your finished jigsaw puzzle will never look complete. 

 And so it is with words.
The word you choose can change your scene from good to stunning.  Or it can rob the scene of action, dropping it into an also-ran event that takes the story in the right direction but leaves the reader seriously wondering whether it’s worth the effort to turn the page over.  Even e-readers require you to rub your finger across the screen to read on!
The power or lack of a word can also make or break your settings.  Place your story in the Regency period of historical London and then use a modern idiom, and, obviously, you’ll lose your readers.
But it’s more subtle than that.  Here’s a very simple example-
He entered the room… or
He stormed into the room….
Both may be correct in their way, but which perks up your interest more?
Next, what kind of room is our hero entering?
Let’s place him in the Regency period, LOL. Why? Because I’m in the middle of writing a Regency romance! But he could be just as easily entering a bar, (there are hundreds of different kinds of bars!) or a library, perhaps a barn in a Western romance, but if it was a historical Western your word choice would be different again.  Same scene but different time periods, so you see, that simple choice suddenly becomes a little more complex.
He entered the ballroom, and all eyes turned in his direction.
Storming into the ballroom and ignoring the disruption he created, he headed straight for Anastasia.
The power of a single word can change the substance of your scene.  If it is a weak word, search for a strong one.  If that means re-writing your sentence, or two or three, then so be it.  If it means the wrong word will destroy the accuracy of your setting, search for the right one.  As I did in this sentence.  The only word I could think of was ‘truth’ but it was the wrong word, but I wrote it in anyway, then highlighted it and hit the thesaurus and came up with the word I wanted. ‘Accuracy.’
A single word can turn a sentence from ‘tepid into the hook at the end of a chapter that guarantees your readers will not put the book down to go to sleep, or get the family meal ready.  And if that ‘right’ word comes at the end of your book, after all those other ‘just right’ words, it may even guarantee your readers will be waiting with baited breath for your next book, and the next, and the next…
In the first two books of my Gasquet Princes series, From Now Until Forever and His Chosen Bride, published by Astraea Press, I had to spend a lot of time searching for words I considered added to the royal connotations of the stories.
Words are tools; some are more powerful than others.  Choose your tools, and your words, carefully.

Now for A Taste of Sherry

Buy

From Now Until Forever
Blurb: For Prince Liam, families meant bad news, unwanted commitments, and the loss of his personal freedom.  Love spawned white picket fences, slippers at the hearth with a wife and kids making demands, so why did those images disappear when he met Melanie Babcot?

Melanie Babcot fought hard to escape the horrors of her youth and vowed to remain single and free, so when paid to protect Prince Liam from insurgents why did her personal pledge fly out the window?

Excerpt: Liam Fitzwilliam Gasquet stared in amazement at the blooming patch of red milliseconds before the pain exploded in his arm. Some trigger-happy idiot had fired in his direction. Indignation didn’t have time to take root before another bullet kicked the dust at his feet.
Not ‘trigger-happy’.
Intentional.
The rebels had found the fourth and youngest son of Jean-Phillipe Gasquet, ruler of the tiny kingdom adjacent to the Swiss border. When had they discovered his whereabouts?
With a reluctant sigh, he faced the truth of it. They hadn’t ‘found’ him at all. They’d followed him.

His Chosen Bride

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Blurb: Prince Henri Gasquet is happy to let his father, the king, choose his bride for him until he meets Monica Latimer.

Monica Latimer is not prepared to risk letting any man close enough to learn about her Gift. A gift that normally has men running for the hills when they find out about it.

Excerpt:
She lost track of time until the flames caught her attention once more. They flickered from orange to gold, to silver, to white.
A flurry of snowflakes masked the flames and for a second Monica watched the most beautiful, pristine snow-scene she’d ever seen. Her lips curved in longing. How she’d love to get a toboggan and slide down that slope. She knew where it was, and had done just that many times in her childhood, first with her parents and then, in clandestine manner, with her brother. Sneaking an old tin tray from the back of her mother’s walk-in pantry, she’d then grabbed Billy’s hand and they’d rushed out the back gate, heading for the lakeside track that led up into the hills.
Darkness, dense and thick with grief dropped over the scene. Startled and disconcerted by the strength of emotion emanating from the vision Monica shifted to her knees, ready to stand, when a voice, a deep male voice, sharp with fear called out her name.
“Monica!”
She knew she’d never heard the voice before, and yet—it was as familiar to her as the image she saw in her mirror each morning.
“Help me, Monica.”
Desperate for more clues, she searched the darkness within the flames until it sputtered and faded. With a curse she jumped up and ran for the phone. With her outstretched hand hovering over it she halted and let her hand drop to her side once more. What could she say? What would the police or rescue team think of her if she called them and told them she’d seen a vision of a man in distress?
They’d laugh in her face and classify her as a lunatic. Well, maybe not. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d contacted them with positive information but something—an instinctive gut reaction told her what she’d seen this time hadn’t happened yet.

Links: Read more about Sherry at her website and her blog  Buy From Now Until Forever here and His Chosen Bride at Astraea Press here 
Sherry's books are also available on Amazon click links
Many thanks for visiting today, Sherry. Enjoyed your article and it's always a pleasure to host you.     

Leave a comment for the chance to win a copy of Sherry's novel The Wrong Target click link to view the book