First – My Mom. She isn’t alive anymore and I wish I could spend a few more hours with her. She died unexpectedly and I miss her a lot.
Second – Jude Deveraux. I would love to pick her brain on her character development of the hero in a Knight in Shining Armor.
2. Who has inspired you in your life and why?
I am inspired by many people including the nurses I worked with over the years including my older sister. She’s been a nurse for many years. I am also inspired by the patients I have the privilege of caring for on a daily basis. For some, it’s a constant fight to get better, but for others it is a fight to maintain their lives in a manner they remember. That’s humbling.
3. How would your best friend describe you?
Fun, but also driven. I am constantly doing something, but as I get older I find myself slowing down and taking the time to appreciate what I have.
4. How do you handle criticism?
We all hate to be criticized, but for me it is a learning experience. As long as the person doing the criticizing is giving me good feedback that I can use to grow, then I’m good.
5. What three things do you need to be successful in this industry?
Love what you are doing – don’t write a genre just for the money
Be humble – there were dozens before you who did well and there will be dozens after you. Remember the readers – they put you where you are.
6. What are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?
Strength – I guess it would be my willingness to help others
Weakness – Cotton Candy (LOL)
7. What type of writing environment do you prefer?
It depends on what I’m writing. If it’s a sex scene, I like quiet so I can put myself in the scene as I am writing it. If it’s other plot points, then I can usually work anywhere.
8. What was the first romance you read that stuck with you and why?
I don’t remember, but my favorite romance is Knight in Shining Armor. I just loved how Jude Deveraux did that one and at the time, time travel was popular. You could almost believe it was possible to do.
9. Other than writing, what do you like doing in your spare time?
I read and I spend time with my animals. I have 4 horses, 3 dogs, and 2 cats and they are a needy bunch.
10. What is the title of the last book you wrote? Tell us how you relate to one of the characters.
The last book I wrote was for Ruth Cardello’s Love Star Burn and it was called Lost Soul. Funny, I related more to the hero than the heroine in that one because he was sent to prison for a murder he didn’t commit. No I haven’t committed murder, but he was so lost when he finally got out of prison and went home, he wasn’t sure what to do. He was bent on revenge to find out who framed him at first. When he ran into his old friend’s sister, revenge wasn’t as important anymore. Reconnecting with her took a front seat. He had to reconcile himself to the fact that he wasn’t a good person in prison and he wasn’t good enough for her anymore.
Brock Callahan has spent the last fifteen years in federal prison for a murder he didn’t commit. Hardened beyond redemption, he heads back to Bard Texas to find the person who framed him only to run into the one woman he hasn’t been able to forget. Today, his world began to turn again.
Libby Reynolds loved and lost at the tender age of sixteen when the man of her dreams was tried and convicted of murder. Unable to believe he could ever hurt someone, she’s always held out the hope that someday he would come back to her. That day is today.
Can Brock and Libby find their way back to each other when the truth is revealed? Murder, lies, and broken hearts are the name of the game when the sun sets and the web of corruption is exposed.
Rain pelted him like icy fingers as he tugged his hat lower on his face. He didn’t have a jacket and his clothes were soaked clear through.
Heavy wind blew the rain sideways in front of him. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed, illuminating the neighborhood in an eerie glow.
A small light lit the window in the top story of the house he stared at from the shadows.
He should never have come here.
He turned to leave, but before he could take two steps, he turned back toward the two-story house across the street. It totally fit the Libby he’d known. White with yellow trim, a long porch wrapped around the front with two rockers strategically placed so she could sit and watch everything go by, and pretty flowerbeds in the front.
A shadow moved across the window, outlining her for a moment before she turned the light out and the house went dark.
Is she alone?
Thoughts of her tormented him as he remembered the feel of her mouth beneath his, the way she moaned when he took her nipple in his mouth, and how soft her skin was under his hands. She’d been perfect, all curves and valleys just waiting for him to explore. At sixteen, she hadn’t fully filled out yet, but she’d been everything he’d wanted. All he could think about now was being buried in her sweet heat again.
The door opened on the house before she stepped out onto the porch, a glass of wine in her hand. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come over here and get out of the rain?”
She’d known he was there the whole time.
Unable to stop his feet, he crossed the street and moved up the concrete walk until he stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“But you are.” She took a seat in one of the rockers. “Come on up.”
His feet felt like lead weights as he took the two steps up to the porch. Water dripped from his clothes, pooling at his feet.
“You’re a mess, Brock.”
She climbed to her feet before pulling open the screen door and ushering him inside. “Take off those clothes so I can throw them in the dryer. Do you have anything else to wear?”
She made a tsking sound as she went through a doorway adjacent to the living room and returned a moment later with a big, fluffy towel. “Here. You can wrap up in this for now. I think I have a few things of Lee’s that might fit you.” She handed him the towel and took his wet hat. “The bathroom is through there.”
He went into the small room, flicked on the light, and glanced around. It wasn’t fancy or anything. Homey. Black and white subway tile lined the walls about halfway up, with the top part of the wall stark white. The sink was white as well, with a dark cabinet beneath. A silver framed oval mirror hung over the sink, reflecting his face back at him. He didn’t like what he saw. His hair was shaggy, lying in wet strands on his collar. His eyes looked dark and haunted to him, something he knew his soul could relate to. The t-shirt he wore lay plastered to his chest, his jeans were soaked through as well, and would be hell to get off his hips. At least my feet are dry. He toed off his boots, leaving them near the sink.
“Brock? Are you okay in there?”
“Yeah. I’ll be out in a second.”
He pushed the wet jeans to the floor before picking them up and tossing them into the bottom of the shower to his left. At least there, they wouldn’t leave a puddle. The t-shirt came next as well as his socks.
“Would you like some hot coffee? I have some already made.”
“Sure. That sounds good.” He heard her steps fade further away from the door as he wrapped the green towel around his waist. Luckily, it was big enough it would hide his cock at least in its flaccid state. Hopefully, I won’t be sporting a hard-on in the next hour while my clothes dry.
The smell of coffee permeated the room when he pulled open the door. He hadn’t had a good cup for a long time. The crap they called coffee in the pen sucked.
“How do you take it?”
“Black is fine.”
A few moments later, she came around the corner to his left carrying a white mug in her hands. All the saliva in his mouth dried up the instant he laid eyes on her.
The light behind her illuminated every curve of her body beneath the huge t-shirt she wore, making him acutely aware she had nothing on under it. “Holy fuck,” he whispered.
He cleared his throat, willing his sudden erection to deflate. God help me. “Uh, no.” He turned quickly, so she wouldn’t see his cock standing straight up under the edge of the towel, and made his way to the couch. Down boy!
She put the mug down on the table and stepped back. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to throw your clothes in the dryer.”
He could hear her puttering around in the bathroom as she grabbed his clothes. I should have done that. She came out, turned right, and walked down the hall to what he assumed was the laundry room. A few seconds later, he heard the dryer turn on.
“There. They should be dry in about an hour. Jeans take longer than cotton.” She took the overstuffed chair next to the far end of the couch from him, folding her legs up under her as she sat. “Are you going to tell me why you were standing outside in this monsoon?”
He blew out a breath and said, “I really don’t know, Libby.”
What was the first romance you read that stuck with you and why?
Open for 24 hours-prize is an ebook of Lost Soul.