Archives

Guest post: Marianne Rice, author of False Hope

May20

unnamed

Thank you, Christa, for having me! And thank you, readers, for stopping by!

My name is Marianne Rice and I write small town contemporary romance. I first sat down to write about nine years ago…right after popping out my third child. Princess was four and my little tomboy was two when my son was born. Writing became my escape. The McKay-Tucker Men series is my first, and I’m so excited to finally share these brothers with all of you.

In False Start, book 1 in the series, Connor McKay, the retired NFL player, is the quintessential alpha-male who tackles all the obstacles sports hater Meg Fulton throws at him.

In the second book, FALSE HOPE, little brother Mason Tucker conquers his fear of people and finds himself tangled with social queen Emma Fulton as she comes to terms with a family secret and a serious medical condition.

Here’s a little snippet from FALSE HOPE. When you’re done reading, stop on by and say hello on my Facebook page, or follow me on Twitter. I love to meet new readers (and writers!)

Excerpt:

Mason stood in her kitchen, his hands in his pockets and a sheepish apology on his face. “It was open.” He nodded toward her back door.

“That doesn’t mean you were invited in,” Emma muttered and went over to the front door. “This one’s open too. You can leave now.”

Mason walked over to the door and closed it, but stayed in the living room. When his arm brushed hers, she pulled away, singed from the heat, and pissed at her own reaction.

“This could be considered breaking and entering. I want you to leave.”

“I will. I n-need to say something first.” His hands returned to his pockets as he studied her knees. Better than her toes, but he still lacked in the eye contact department.

They stood in awkward silence again. Emma cocked her head to one side and crossed her arms. “Waiting.”

“Can we sit?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Mason went over to the sofa and sat anyway. Emma stayed in her position by the door, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She wasn’t sure what scared her. He would never physically hurt her, and he actually wanted to talk with her. She was being foolish by pushing him away, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him, or herself.

“I sh-shouldn’t have pushed you away after we…”

“Had wild monkey sex in your hallway?” Gosh it felt good to be bitchy.

Mason cringed. “Yeah. I was … s-surprised.”

“I believe your memory does not serve you correctly. You are the one who ravished me. I went in hoping for a kiss. You went in for the kill.” Not that she minded, but she wasn’t about to admit that either.

“I’m so, so sorry, Emma. I took advantage of you. It was just … you’re so… I couldn’t help it.”

Dang it, her knees almost buckled. She leaned against the wall in an attempt to hide her softening and to appear more defiant.

“After…” Mason ran his hands through his hair. “I was angry at myself because … I thought … I thought you and Cole …” He made eye contact for a second before dropping his gaze, and shrugged. “I thought I broke the code.”

“Code?”

“Brothers before girlfriends.”

“What?”

“I thought you and Cole were a thing and I s-s-sabotaged it.”

Realization hit her like an airbag to a face. She touched her cheek and nearly collapsed.

“He told me you two aren’t … that you’re friends and not in a, uh, romantic relationship.”

She moved closer to the couch and glared at him. “Let me get this straight. You thought Cole and I were an item, but you had sex with me anyway then pushed me away because you felt like shit for screwing your brother’s girlfriend but just found out your brother and I are not an item and are now coming to apologize?”

Ick, when she said it out loud it sounded tacky and terrible, but her heart interpreted it differently. Kind of sweet. Paige must be wearing off on her, romanticizing a twisted love triangle. Still, she wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily.

“You’ve apologized, so now what?” Lord bless him, but the man looked completely shocked. She bet he hadn’t thought that far.

“I… I don’t know.”

Never one to complicate matters—Emma inwardly rolled her eyes and snorted at herself—she knew she had to make the next move.

“Do you like me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

Mason raised an eyebrow and stood up. “No.”

She gasped.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

She melted. “Oh.”

“Do you like me?” he asked.

“I did. And then I didn’t. But I think I do now.”

“Oh. Do you think I’m pretty?” he smirked.

“No.” She waited a beat. “I think you’re so damn hot.” They stood toe to toe, waiting for the other person to make the first move. They’d had wild monkey sex against a wall so kissing shouldn’t have been so anticipating. But it was. And it was well worth the wait.

Sign up for my newsletter and be entered to win a paperback (US residents) from the series (winner’s choice). A winner will be selected at random in June.
Sign up for my Newsletter here

Amazon: amazon.com/author/mariannerice
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/MarianneRiceaut
Twitter: https://twitter.com/mariannericeaut

My guest today is Erin Fanning author of Blood Stitches

May13

Blood Stitches-highres

Earthquakes, Knitting, and Mayan Mythology: Finding Inspiration

The earthquake hit L’Aquila, Italy on April 6, 2009. Maria D’Antuono, a resourceful 98-year-old, grabbed her knitting supplies and crawled under her bed. The stone house crumbled around her, yet, when firefighters found Maria 30 hours later, she was not only unhurt but continued to knit.

“At least let me comb my hair,” she said to her rescuers as they helped her to safety.

I read about Maria’s ordeal soon after I learned how to knit, and the events tumbled around in my brain, eventually blending into a history of magic and needlework. What if you could not only knit your way to safety but also create a disaster through knitting?

The story somehow intersected with my interest in Mexican culture and mythology. From there, I discovered the Mayan twin myth and the battle with the demon Vucub Caquix. Bit and pieces of Mayan mythology adhered themselves to my imagination, morphing into an adventure that delved into the Mayan underworld.

It wasn’t long afterward that my novella, Blood Stitches, pushed its way through my fingertips.

And that seems to be how inspiration works, at least for me: an article read and filed away, an overheard conversation, or a hike down a tree-shrouded trail, where shadows seep into my imagination. It’s a reminder of the vastness of the world–an endless source of ideas–and how there will always be authors, hopefully with the resourcefulness of Maria D’Antuono, molding inspiration into entertaining tales.

 

Blood Stitches

By Erin Fanning

Love and danger intertwine…

It’s called El Toque de la Luna—The Touch of the Moon. At least that’s how nineteen-year-old Gabby’s older sister, Esperanza, refers to the magical powers she inherited from their Mayan ancestors. Esperanza says women with El Toque weave magic into their knitting, creating tapestries capable of saving—or devastating—the world. Gabby thinks Esperanza is more like touched in the head—until a man dressed like a candy corn arrives at their Seattle home on Halloween. But “Mr. C” is far from sweet…

Soon, Gabby and her almost-more-than-friend, Frank, find themselves spirited away to a demon ball, complete with shape shifters—and on a mission to destroy Esperanza’s tapestries before they cause an apocalyptic disaster… And before it’s too late to confess their true feelings for each other

Buy:

Kensington/Lyrical

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Google

iTunes

 

About the Author:

Erin Fanning spends her summers on a northern Michigan lake, where her imagination explores the water and dense forest for undiscovered creatures. In the winter, she migrates to central Idaho, exchanging mountain bikes and kayaks for skis and snowshoes. She’s the author of a mountain biking guidebook, as well as numerous articles, essays, and short stories.

Find Erin online:

Website

Goodreads:

Twitter: @WriterErin

Amazon

Enter to win a Rafflecopter giveaway for a $20 Amazon gift card.

 

 

 

Emme’s Predicament

May5

Roanoake cover1

Emme held her breath waiting to see what he would do next. They were alone in the forest and he was not trying to force himself on her, merely to seduce. No one would ever have to know. His gentle touch made her wish she could press her hands on his chest to test the firmness of his muscles, to clasp his shoulders. He still held one of her hands with warm and steady pressure. One of his fingers rested on her lips. What would happen if she licked her lips with his finger there, brushing her tongue against his flesh? Would he accept the invitation?

A bird screamed overhead.

Emme jumped back. What was she thinking? She’d had so little sleep last night, her mind wasn’t working. She didn’t need to give Ananias more reason to dislike her and so far she’d gone half a day without doing any chores. He would be furious if he found out there was another European man in the forest. More furious if he learned that she knew before he did. “I should go back.”

 

 

Emme was married, but her husband died leaving her in a very precarious position. She is a woman, making her a second-class citizen at the time. But she’s a midwife giving her a skill and more power than the average woman would have. That’s what threatens Ananais. She’s a woman who can say no to him and mean it.

Follow The River

Apr28

Follow the River

She had returned over a seven day after she’d gone into the forest seeking herbs. If they had been less worried about recent developments, they would have questioned her story of being lost in the forest, but in her absence they had been beset by storms and some of them had foraged some plants that made them ill. Emme walked out of the house and stretched. Four men, including Ananias, lay inside half aware and empty of food at last. Every time she tried to give them something, anything, it came right back out.

 

I stole Emme’s excuse from James Alexander Thom’s Follow the River. In it the heroine is kidnapped by natives somewhere in the Virginia/West Virginia area and taken as a prisoner to Western Ohio. She’s gone for a year. When she finally manages to return home, the men of her town think she was just lost in the woods. Dopes.

What I’m Watching: A Little Princess

Apr22

A Little Princess (1995) Poster

When I’m feeling down, I watch this movie. The over saturated color and the magical realism (along with the nail biting ending) are the perfect anti-dote for a bad case of the everybody-hates-mes.

 

Best movie quote ever:

Sara Crewe: I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. Even if they dress in rags, even if they aren’t pretty, or smart, or young. They’re still princesses. All of us. Didn’t your father ever tell you that? Didn’t he?

Stolen Children

Apr21

“If I wanted this woman, I would just take her,” Far Seer said. “She wanders alone in the forest.”

“My people do not do that.”

Another woman joined Emme and the man. The woman had an infant in her arms and the drawn expression of one who needed good food and rest.

“Then why do you not bargain for her?” Far Seer asked. “There are many things they need.”

“They would be more alarmed by me than they are by you if I walked into their encampment.”

Emme was arguing with the squat man and the other woman tried to stop them. The infant cried like an unhappy cat. The sound clawed at Tighe’s chest.

A child. It had been so long since he had seen a child. There were those who wanted to steal it, but he had managed to convince them that doing so would only anger the newcomers. As long as they believed themselves alone, they would not go hunting old enemies. Much more likely they would go after the natives, but the others had believed him. That just showed him how great their fear of these mortals was. And how sad his great people had become.

 

 

The native people, like the Europeans, treated women as second-class citizens. At least, that’s what my research turned up. History written by the winners after all. The Fae are different. Their women are strong and independent. Emme doesn’t know this though.

 

The Fae in folklore are famous for stealing human babies and replacing them with their or sickly offspring. Now if you wanted to take a scientific view of this, inbreeding could cause Fae children to be sickly and stealing a strong human baby, with a completely fresh set of DNA, would help out the bloodline. If you wanted to take a sociological perspective, parents could blame supernatural beings for the defects of their children to deflect suspicion about their own bloodlines. If you want to focus from an educational angle, you could say that faeries stealing children was a cautionary tale of what could happen if you leave your baby alone because telling stories about wild animals grabbing the kid and running off with it are too realistic and scary. I’ve probably spent a little too much time thinking about this.

 

The baby’s cry actually came from the birth of a nephew. I was walking down the hospital hall to the room where the hours old tyke was with his mother and various family members when I heard this wet cat mewling. My first thought was “I hope that’s not my nephew.” It was, but he grew out of it.

Roanoak Colonist’s names

Apr14

I wanted to use real names of the colonists so I did a little research.

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_colonists_at_Roanoke

 

I chose Emme Merrimoth as my heroine because I liked the name.

 

Ananais Dare’s name doesn’t appear on this list, but he is listed elsewhere are Eleanor Dare’s husband and Virginia Dare’s father.

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ananias_Dare

 

Margery, who is heavily pregnant and breaks her leg in the opening scene, is on the list as well as a child with an unknown first name. If the child was born after John White left for England, he wouldn’t have known its name.

 

Roger Bailie ended up being overrun by Ananais after John White left. So often people who are excellent at being second in command suck at being commander.

 

For the fae, I used very Irish names. According to legend, the Fae went “West” after their defeat by the Men. I was working literally. My Fae needed to be connected to the world of Men to maintain their power, but spent most of their time in the Summer Country where the sun always shines and living is easy. And they are safe from Men and their iron weapons. A very important bonus.

A Lady’s Virtue by Jessica Cale

Apr13

virtueslady

From toiling for pennies to bare-knuckle boxing, a lady is prepared for every eventuality.

 

Lady Jane Ramsey is young, beautiful, and ruined. After being rescued from her kidnapping by a handsome highwayman, she returns home only to find her marriage prospects drastically reduced. Her father expects her to marry the repulsive Lord Lewes, but Jane has other plans. All she can think about is her highwayman, and she is determined to find him again. Mark Virtue is trying to go straight. After years of robbing coaches and surviving on his wits, he knows it’s time to hang up his pistol and become the carpenter he was trained to be. He busies himself with finding work for his neighbors and improving his corner of Southwark as he tries to forget the girl who haunts his dreams. As a carpenter struggling to stay in work in the aftermath of The Fire, he knows Jane is unfathomably far beyond his reach, and there’s no use wishing for the impossible. When Jane turns up in Southwark, Mark is furious. She has no way of understanding just how much danger she has put them in by running away. In spite of his growing feelings for her, he knows that Southwark is no place for a lady. Jane must set aside her lessons to learn a new set of rules if she is to make a life for herself in the crime-ridden slum. She will fight for her freedom and her life if that’s what it takes to prove to Mark—and to herself—that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Goodreads

Buy Links:

Amazon

Other Books in This Series

Tyburn (The Southwark Saga, Book 1): Notorious harlot Sally Green fights for survival inRestoration London. When a brutal attack throws them together, Sally is torn between the tutor who saves her and the highwayman who keeps her up at night; between new love and an old need for revenge. Finalist for the Southern Magic Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence 2015.

Liquid Silver

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

All Romance E-Books:

iTunes

Author Bio

Jessica Cale is a historical romance author and journalist based in North Carolina. Originally from Minnesota, she lived in Wales for several years where she earned a BA in History and an MFA in Creative Writing while climbing castles and photographing mines for history magazines. She kidnapped (“married”) her very own British prince (close enough) and is enjoying her happily ever after with him in a place where no one understands his accent. You can visit her at www.authorjessicacale.com.

Social Media Links

Website: http://www.authorjessicacale.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorjessicacale

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JessicaCale @JessicaCale

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+JessicaCaleWrites

Tumblr: http://authorjessicacale.tumblr.com/

Pintrest: http://www.pinterest.com/rainbowcarnage

Tsu: https://www.tsu.co/jessicacale

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Jessica-

Cale/e/B00PVDV9EW/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9819997.Jessica_Cale

 

Excerpt:

A key popped into the lock and the door opened with a creak. A turnkey stood guard in the narrow entrance, as if he was afraid Mark would escape.

Mark almost laughed. They’d put him in the heavy shackles they reserved for those who had escaped and been recaptured. It was Harry who was the escape artist, but Mark wouldn’t correct them. It was good that they thought he was a threat.

He was.

The turnkey carried a lantern bright enough for Mark to see his shining eyes and a shit-eating grin. “Someone likes you,” he said.

Mark rolled his eyes. “You tell Tilly that there’s not enough bread in Christendom—”

He trailed off as he saw a slender white hand emerge from the shadows of the hall to drop a coin into the turnkey’s palm. “For his shackles,” said a girl’s voice in a coarse accent he didn’t recognize.

“You want them on or off?”

“Off!” she snapped.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got the wrong cell, mate. I’m not expecting anyone.”

The turnkey leered. “Can I keep her, then?”

“Can you hell!” the girl protested. “I was sent for Mister Mark Virtue only. Bought and paid for. Hands off!”

The girl stepped into the light. The thin cloak she wore over it was for warmth more than modesty; a man would have to be blind not to see the body beneath it. Her lush curves were cinched into a scandalously low-cut dress the color of burnished gold, her flawless skin glowing in the warm light of the lantern. A yard or so of shining auburn hair spilled out of the hood that shadowed her face. Even had she kept it covered, he would have known her from the way his blood sang in her presence.

She glanced up at him from beneath the hood and he saw it.

The glint of steel in her eyes.

“This is only a shilling,” said the turnkey. “That’ll get you the hands or the feet. Not both.”

She arched an eyebrow at Mark. “Which is it? Hands or feet?”

“Feet.”

Mark didn’t take his eyes off of her as the turnkey bent to unlock the shackles around his ankles.

“The lantern’s extra,” he said as he stood.

“Don’t need it,” Mark dismissed, rubbing his ankles.

“That’s a shame. She’s a treat! I’ll come get her later then. Wish I had friends like yours, Mark.” He closed the door behind him, and Mark heard the bolt slide into the lock with a heavy click.

He was locked in a cell in near perfect darkness with Jane Ramsey.

“It’s not my birthday.” He smiled.