I love to read about werewolves. I could name all my favorite authors who have created rich worlds full of werewolves, but that would take too much time. They all write fantastic sagas about pack rules and the relationships between the fierce and furry. Consequently, whenever I considered writing about werewolves, I’d lose my nerve. I wrote cat shifters and science fiction, demons and elves, but I always lost my nerve when I considered penning the tale of a werewolf.

Then I finally decided to take the plunge. It wasn’t easy. (It never is!) First, I had to figure out the mechanics of a werewolf universe. How did the characters shift from human to wolf form? Would it be a bone-splitting painful wrench or just a beautiful shimmer of magic? Were new werewolves made or born as shifters, or both. If they were made, how did that happen? The always popular bite? Or something else? And of course, why would my world be different from those of the afore-mentioned great authors?

One big difference came to mind right at the start. The Northern Rocky pack in situated where I currently live, making it easy for me to describe background features. I have never read of another author creating a werewolf pack with its headquarters up here in the Rockies, so I wasn’t infringing on an existing series. You know how territorial a wolf pack can be!

Since I lived a good part of my life in Northern Ontario, I am well acquainted with how wolves look and sound. Packs of wolves carve out their territory there and hold it against invading newcomers. The sight of a dark shadow loping across a snowy field, or the sound of an eerie howl echoing in the chill of a fall morning is commonplace. A rock cave in the bush across from our home hosted a new litter of wolf cubs each year, and if we were very quiet and very lucky, we could perch on a hill above them and watch the young ones through binoculars as they tumbled and played in the spring sunshine. So describing wolf behavior wasn’t a problem for me.

There are distinctive differences between wolves and dogs. The way they walk, how they hold their heads, even their reactions to people and other animals differ greatly from our domestic friends. I hope I’ve been able to convey some of those in the descriptive passages of the two stories in this duet.

This first book consists of two stories which is a great way to meet the wolves of the Northern Rockies Pack. I hope you enjoy Seducing Destiny and Dark Kisses. The next book in the series will be released in January of 2020, and I will provide some tidbits between now and then. In the meantime, here’s a sneak peek!

Seducing Destiny

Jack, the alpha of the North Rockies pack, knows Destiny needs some time to come to grips with her werewolf heritage before he springs the whole mated for life thing on her.

Destiny has no intention of buying into the whole pack mentality, howl at the full moon thing. Sure, she practically drools at the sight of red meat, but that’s no reason to give up her comfortable life. Besides, she already has a boyfriend, a slick up-and-coming lawyer.

But when a band of rogue werewolves move into the area, Jack can’t afford to have his attention divided. He needs to convince Destiny that she belongs both in his pack and in his bed so he can concentrate on the new threat.

EXCERPT

Destiny stared in dismay at the box in the middle of her kitchen table. Her stomach lurched, a ball of anxiety settling in the very middle of it. Small by most standards, gold gilt covered the entire box, giving it an exotic look. An artfully tied crimson bow surrounded by curls of white lace sat cheerfully atop it, adding to the air of decadent luxury.

She knew who’d put it there, and she knew why. Jack. The Alpha of the Northern Rockies werewolf pack. The man who made her knees feel weak whenever she glimpsed him walking down the main street, or lounging at a local coffee shop. The man who’d made it plain that he intended to be her mate.

The absolute last man on the face of the planet that she intended to get serious about.

She had a boyfriend, one carefully picked with the future in mind. A trial attorney she’d met when she attended a convention in Calgary, Quentin Karnes had everything she wanted in a mate. On the fast track to a partnership in his prestigious law firm, he was cultured, rich, and moved in the highest social circles. Their children would grow up attending private schools, vacationing at the most prestigious resorts, dressing in the latest fashions. They’d want for nothing.

She’d worked hard to carve out a niche for herself in Riverton. Her accounting office catered to farmers and small businessmen, and she’d slowly managed to gain a reputation of being the person you wanted on your side when the government called to audit your tax returns.

She steeled herself and reached for the box. It wasn’t much bigger than a deck of cards, and she held it in her hand, somehow hoping that wishing would make it go away. When she’d moved here two years ago, she’d made it clear to Jack and every other member of the pack that she didn’t intend to join their little social group. She preferred to run alone. She hadn’t grown up in a pack, and if she could, she’d ignore her inner wolf entirely. So what if the sight of a full moon awakened an overpowering urge for a steak with the blood oozing out the sides? A girl needed to curb her baser instincts and make plans for the future.

No point in putting this off. Her sensitive nose could smell Jack all over the damn thing. She caught the trailing lace between a thumb and forefinger and gently undid the bow, dropping the cheerful piece of ribbon on the table. Taking a deep breath, she plucked the lid off.

Her breath caught in her throat. An exquisitely detailed chocolate wolf nestled in a cushion of crushed white velvet. Every detail from the tip of its muzzle to the dominant curve of its tail was perfect. Jack had reproduced himself exactly. She knew if she turned the little wolf over, she’d find a jagged scar running along its left flank.

“I suppose I could always bite your head off.” Destiny felt a wry smile tug the sides of her mouth. Although she didn’t like the idea, being the Alpha meant Jack had complete authority over all the werewolves in the Northern Rockies. Even those that didn’t want to accept him. The fact he’d chosen not to force her to take him for her mate didn’t mean he’d agreed to let her leave the pack. He’d said he’d give her some time to settle in. She’d hoped he’d forgotten about her and settled down with some other female. One who liked her inner beast.

She sighed and looked at the dark chocolate confection. The full moon was less than a week away. She’d been ignoring her darker side for a long time now, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid going into heat this month. What were the chances Jack’s timing was coincidental?

She jumped, startled by the sound of a loud knock on her front door. Quentin must have gotten out of court early. She hadn’t expected him to show up for at least another four hours. She quickly put the lid back on the box. Sweeping the ribbon up off the table, she stuffed the box and ribbon into a drawer and slammed it shut.

“Come on in, the door’s open.” She hoped Quentin couldn’t hear the guilt in her voice. Not that she had anything to feel guilty about. Damn Jack and his fancy little chocolate creatures! She smoothed her hands down her skirt and tried to look calm.

“I know, I was just being polite.” Jack strode into the room, a crooked smile on his rugged face. “You’re not usually this happy to see me.”

Destiny’s heart did a little flip-flop. Taller than her five-foot eleven, Jack’s dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a strip of leather, and his sapphire blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Thickly roped muscles stretched the tight shirt and rippled with every step he took. He looked every bit as yummy as the chocolate creations he sold in his trendy boutique.

“I thought you were my boyfriend.” She looked pointedly behind him as if she expected Quentin to materialize any second. “I’m expecting him to drop in after court today.”

Jack ignored her reference to Quentin and gave her a toothy grin. “I intend to be a lot more than a friend, and it’s been a long time since anyone referred to me as a boy.” He advanced, his eyes sparkling. “Glad to hear you finally think of me that way, though, because unless my nose is deceiving me, you’re going to be begging for my attention shortly.”

Destiny felt a surge of color flood her cheeks and she turned away so he couldn’t see her face. It mortified her to know he could smell her eagerness. “You wish.” Now that was lame!

He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him, his touch surprisingly gentle for such a large man. “No, I know. The full moon is on Saturday. You haven’t slept with that wimpy boyfriend of yours, and you’re not going to if you want him to live to see Monday. A human male can’t begin to satisfy your needs. I wouldn’t have to lift a paw; you’d tear him apart yourself. Your frustration level is about to escalate to hellish proportions.” A devilishly wicked smile curved the corner of his mouth. “Fortunately, I can help you deal with that.”

Buy Links:
Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07Z4W4Z67/
Amazon.ca https://www.amazon.ca/Seducing-Destiny-Kisses-Northern-Rockies-ebook/dp/B07Z4W4Z67/
Barnes and Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seducing-destiny-dark-kisses-duet-anne-kane/1134087712
Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/seducing-destiny-dark-kisses-duet
iTunes https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1483531619

UPDATE: The winner is…Tamara Kasyan!
*~*~*

Check out my newest release, Blind Trust, part of Elle James Brotherhood Protectors World.

Blind Trust is the third book in my world within Elle’s world, with books set at the Triple C, or Three C’s ranch. These books are near and dear to my heart because I take on the subject of domestic abusive, moving each heroine from victim, to survivor, to thriver, giving the heroine a Brotherhood Protector and a happy ever after.

There’s always a bit of danger in the middle. (Which you will find in almost all of my stories. Suspense, danger, and a fight scene. This is true no matter what romance genre I’m writing in.)

Now about the Triple C’s ranch, how was it born?

If I could wave a magic wand and create a world where domestic abuse did not exist, I would do it in a heartbeat. Since I don’t have a magic wand, I created the Triple C, or Three C’s as it is affectionately known. On this ranch in Montana, in Brotherhood Protectors country, women who have been attacked or abused come to learn self-defense, horseback riding, gun safety and shooting, swimming, and other skills to become stronger, and more empowered.

If you’ve been following along, reading the other books, you may have guessed from the cover that Blind Trust is the story of Cecelia, the receptionist at the Triple C. It took me a little longer to write this one than I had planned, as I learned it wasn’t quite so easy writing from a blind heroine’s point of view. I had to back up a bit, do more research and then rewrite many scenes.

The books, in order, are:
Defensive Instructor
Marine Protector
Blind Trust

They do not have to be read in order, though they are all connected, and there will be more stories to come, set at the Triple C. In fact, I am working on a Christmas story this week that is set at the ranch. I haven’t picked a title yet, but it will come to me before the first draft is done.

Leave a comment for a chance to win a signed copy of either Defensive Instructor or Marine Protector.
Have you read any of the books set at the Triple C Ranch yet?

Blind Trust

Blinded by a bad date, Cecelia lives and works on a ranch that helps victims of domestic abuse. All she wants is to stay on the ranch, a place where she can find her way around in her perpetual darkness. She has no intention of dating again, especially not Marine Force Recon veteran, Brian “Barbie” Ken, even if his voice is so sexy it makes her knees weak.

Assigned to protect the patrons and workers at the ranch, Brian is fascinated by everything about Cecelia and has made it his life’s mission to take her out on a date. She might be the biggest challenge of his life. Convincing her to leave the ranch will take more than smooth talking after an ill-fated date robbed her of her eyesight. It will take Blind Trust on her part to go out again.

When her cousin ends up in the hospital in San Diego, Cecelia is desperate to visit. Brian offers to drive her. Cecelia agrees to go, taking a leap of faith to leave her familiar surroundings. When a sex trafficker kidnaps Cecelia from the hospital, Brian crosses the border into Mexico to rescue her and bring her home.

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07YN8D1J5/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0

About Debra

Author Debra Parmley believes, “Every day we are alive is a beautiful day,” and she likes to give her readers and her story people a story with a happy ending.

A hybrid, multi-genre author, Debra’s first romance, A Desperate Journey, a gritty western historical romance, was published in 2008 in eBook and 2009 in print after being selected as one of ten novels to compete in the American Title II contest put on by Dorchester Publishing and Romantic Times Book Lovers magazine. Debra has written three western historical romances.

An Air Force veteran’s wife, Debra enjoys writing Amazon best-selling military romantic suspense. She married her high sweetheart and after living in five states, has lived for the last 20 years near Memphis, TN.

Founder of Shimmy Mob Memphis, a chapter of Shimmy Mob international, which raises funds for local domestic abuse shelters around the world, Debra is a retired belly dancer. Several of her books feature belly dancer heroines.

Debra enjoys writing historical romance and writes a 1920’s flappers romance series, each book about a different flapper. She also writes contemporary and holiday romance, a dystopian romance trilogy; paranormal romance, fairy tale romance and poetry.

She is a professional speaker and a world traveler who often brings home folk tales and music from countries she has visited.

Her five favorite things are shooting primitive archery with her Mongolian horse bow, shooting long guns, shooting pool, walking on the beach, and hearing from her readers. Each card and letter is a joyful treasure, like finding that perfect shell on the beach.

Places to find Debra and her books:
Website: www.debraparmley.com

FB personal page: https://www.facebook.com/debra.parmley.7
FB fan group Debra’s Beautiful Day Dreamers: https://www.facebook.com/groups/debraparmley/
FB fan page: https://www.facebook.com/authordebraparmley/

To Catch an Elf:
Debra Parmley’s Creepy Shelf Elf Group: Every Dec. I host a 12 days of creepy elf party and have SO much fun doing it! To be notified when the party starts, join this group, which is mostly quiet the rest of the year. https://www.facebook.com/groups/793115644206381/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/debraparmley/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/DebraParmley
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/debraparmley/
Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/ebook-deals/latest
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Debra-Parmley/e/B002BM9H4A%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_share
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/debraparmley

Newsletter sign up: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/w9s9h0

YouTube: Debra’s Beautiful Day YouTube Channel (for contests, first chapter reads, and more):
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC27hTWse4gLJxTETQw6i7xw/

I am giving away a bag of goodies and some books from Heather Graham’s Writers for New Orleans in conjunction with celebrating the release of Blind Trust! Drawing is tomorrow night so be sure to get your entry in by leaving your comments over there!

Cute pic, right? The Devlin house has been beleaguered with health issues for a while. First, my mom had issues (falls, lucidity issues, etc.), but she’s on the mend. She had sooooo many appointments and hospital visits, we were growing worried. Now, it’s my dd’s house. My dd and two of her daughters have had problems with croupy, lingering coughs. Today, my daughter is so sore from coughing, I’m helping her at her house.

It’s a good thing I’m generally as healthy as a horse. But my productivity over the past month has taken quite a hit. I’m trying to get back on track. I have a novella I HAVE to finish by the end of the month. Guess how many pages I have written? ZERO. I’ll try to change that today. I also have edits to do for a client/author. So, my dance card is full.

Not a fun post today, but I wanted to share, because y’all think romance authors laze around, being fed bonbons all day, right? LOL. Well, I’m sure you don’t think that, but I do like you knowing we’re just like everyone else. 🙂

~Delilah

Big gratitude to Delilah for inviting me to write a guest blog!

I write about spirituality – some of it deeply traditional and some of it in the practical context of everyday life. Today, I want to share a couple stories about manifestation – or getting things we want by thinking about them in a certain way.

At some point in my thirties, I began to harbor a secret wish to sing the National Anthem at an event. I have been a musician since I was a kid and have sung in choirs over the years. I did not want to sing at a ball game or sports event, but thought that some other more serious venue would be pretty cool.

A few years later, I was picking my daughter up at her writing camp that was held at the local University. I was waiting at the edge of a fountain, smelling the flowers and feeling the warm breeze on my skin and the energy of the campus. All of a sudden, I had a surge of desire: I wanted to teach at this University. I was working on a graduate degree but had no particular experience as a professor; but I felt that deep desire, and knew that it was more than a passing fancy.

These two desires – separated in time by about five years – are only two examples of the interesting things I have attracted into my life using the principles I study and write about on my blog.

Here’s what happened with each of these…

Not long after that beautiful Summer day, I got a call about a college department that was looking for someone to teach a class – one that was a perfect fit for me. I prepared a proposal, submitted it to the department chair, and a month after I completed my graduate degree, taught my first class as an adjunct faculty member. Six years later I would join the faculty as a full time Assistant Professor.

Before joining the University faculty as a full-time Assistant Professor, I was working as a Dean at the local community college. One day, I was in a Dean’s meeting as we planned the upcoming commencement ceremony. The committee chair asked if any of us knew someone who could sing the National Anthem, and one of my colleagues said “Rebecca can do it – you should hear her sing in meetings!”

I did sometimes sing during meetings – usually when we needed some comic relief (I would imitate an operatic Brunhilda character). But the suggestion was serious, and I accepted. It was a stretch goal for certain, as this is no easy piece to perform; but I had time and tools. I practiced, prepared and when commencement came along a few months later, I did it and did it well!

Manifesting things as I have described is simple but not always easy. It takes focus and imagination, along with the discipline to avoid an energy of obsession and desperation. It also often requires a willingness to step forward – sometimes outside of our comfort zones. In manifesting, it is helpful to be clear about what we want, and to trust the process enough to let go (in other words, avoid micromanaging how things will happen).

Singing the National Anthem was a pretty clear goal. I knew what I wanted to do, and that I did NOT want to sing at a sports event. I left the other details – the what, where, when and how – to the Universe.

I used the same process with my desire to teach at the University. I did not hone in on a specific class, or particular way that things needed to unfold. I just knew I wanted to teach at that University and left the details to the Universe.

I think it’s important to share that I did not make an outreach in either case. Once I felt the desire for each situation, I let it go and trusted the process. In both cases, people reached out to me with offers that aligned with my dreams.

A helpful aspect I employ is to avoid trying to manifest something so far outside of my skill set that it’s hard for ME to believe it as possible. In the examples I shared, I had the basic skills to deliver when given the opportunities. The desire was accompanied by a belief in myself that I could do these things if given the chance.

I can’t stress enough the importance of treating our dreams and desires with patience, and a quiet knowing that the dream, or something better, is already in motion for us. And then we need to let it go – release our dream so that the Universe can work its magic.

When thoughts come to me about a dream or desire I have, I think only positive things, knowing that it is mine by divine right, and on its way to me. I do not engage in negative thoughts that it couldn’t happen; that I don’t deserve it, or that it’s unrealistic. I hold on to the knowing that all is well, and that in perfect time and space it will show up for me! I also keep it to myself, so that others can’t cast doubts on my dreams. Even if they mean well, I don’t want any negativity coming into my process!

These stories are only two examples of the many times I have experienced success since learning how to work this process. I have manifested local and national speaking engagements, a work-from-home job, a new roof, numerous incidences of “extra money” when I needed some and much more.

Although it was made popular in the early part of the 21st century through movies and books, manifesting is an ancient art/practice. I have learned that a dedicated spiritual practice that includes a recognition of our connection to the Universe is a key component to consistently manifesting the things we desire. When we learn the processes, practice the principles, and focus our perspective – we can absolutely change our experience, and our lives!

About the Author

Rebecca Harmon is a mother, grandmother, US Navy veteran, and keeper of cats who lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A healthcare professional and educator, she maintains a blog on spirituality and enjoys speaking in front of large groups of people! She has self-published two non-fiction books about careers and the workplace: Discover Your Path – a map to job happiness and 7 Simple Steps – job satisfaction, any place, any time – both available on Amazon – and would love it if you dropped by her blog for a read, a Like, a Follow or a Share!

Follow Rebecca’s blog: A Practitioner’s Path
Follow her professional journey on LinkedIn
Follow her on Twitter: @Practitioner2Be

I love it when interests come together.

Three of my loves (opera, learning about African-American women, and writing) came together as I wrestled with how to adapt Richard Wagner’s Die Valkyrie, the second opera of his Ring Cycle, to a Reconstruction/Gilded Age New York setting with African-American characters.

In Act III of Wagner’s opera, the Valkyrie are nine sisters who bring dead heroes from the battlefield to defend Valhalla — the hall of the Gods — for Wotan who is their father and the king of the gods. Fixed in my mind were images from productions showing the sisters all the same age. Check out this youtube video of the Royal Danish Opera’s production to see what I mean: https://youtu.be/FPcrqkViZKw. My Valkyrie are not immortals who never aged. Unless I made them nonuplets, I had to figure a way around the birth order problem.

Then it hit me. My Valkyrie didn’t have to be blood-related sisters. They could be sisters of a sorority. Women’s literary societies of the nineteenth century were places where women escaped the limitations placed on them by society. They could exercise their intellect and share their opinions freely without fear of ridicule or contempt. My Valkyries’ common bond wasn’t to be in service to a man’s goals as depicted in Die Valkyrie, but the pursuit of their own self-actualization as warrior women — artistic warrior women. This is where love number two came into play.

In a previous post on this blog, I shared how disappointed I was that in a box of thirty-six famous African Americans, only six were women. With my idea of creating a sorority, I decided I could base my Valkyrie on the women of the Harlem Renaissance.

I knew already of Zora Neale Hurston, Nella Larsen, Jessie Redmon Fauset and Dorothy West. I went in search of five more and came across this fantastic list of twenty-seven fabulous women (of whom I’d only known about thirteen): https://www.thoughtco.com/women-of-the-harlem-renaissance-3529259.

Now before you object, I know that the Harlem Renaissance took place in the 1920s and early 30’s. Originally, I had thought of basing my Valkyrie on African-American women who participated and battled white racism in the suffrage movement in the 1890’s, but once I latched onto the creative energy generated by the Harlem Renaissance women, everything clicked. So much so I’m having a hard time keeping my story to its original time period.

Anyway, this list gave me twenty-seven heroines from which to draw my nine Valkyrie. Should I base Brunhilda, the defiant Valkyrie who dominates Acts II and III of this opera on Zora Neale Hurston or Josephine Baker, both defiant trailblazing rule breakers? I’m leaning toward the remarkable Jessie Redmon Fauset. Langston Hughes called her “the midwife of the Harlem Renaissance” because as literary editor of the NAACP’s The Crisis magazine from 1919 to 1926 she helped birth the writing careers of many writers and poets of the Harlem Renaissance. Which of the remaining women should I use to round out my sisterhood of warrior women? What new women might I find to use instead? As my research continues, the possibilities stretch before me endlessly. I’m having so much fun learning about these women I have to fight to stay out of the research abyss and move into love number three: writing.

The images and herstories of these women continue to fuel my imagination. I’ve already outlined one of their gatherings. They’re enjoying their exploits, sharing how they’re mentoring women as protégés and men to be true allies. I’m looking forward to writing the confrontation between Brunhilde and Wotan. If you’d like a summary of Wagner’s story, check out this link: https://www.britannica.com/topic/Der-Ring-des-Nibelungen/Story-summary-of-Die-Walkure.

My adaptation of Wagner’s Die Valkyrie is a story of women’s empowerment and agency. With the artistic warrior women of the Harlem Renaissance as my guides, I’m hoping my version of the story will be a source of empowerment and agency for all its readers.

Better To Marry Than To Burn

Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.

Caesar King’s ad for a mail-order bride is an answer to Queen Esther Payne’s prayer. Her family expects her to adhere to society’s traditional conventions of submissive wife and mother, but Queen refuses. She is not the weaker sex and will not allow herself to be used, abused or turned into a baby-making machine under the sanctity of matrimony. Grateful that love is neither required nor sought, she accepts the ex-slave’s offer and heads West for marriage on her terms. Her education and breeding will see to that. However, once she meets Caesar, his unexpected allure and intriguing wit makes it hard to keep love at bay. How can she hope to remain her own woman when victory may be synonymous with surrender?

Excerpt:

She pulled the wagon to a stop. “Care to take over?”

She held the reins before him. He nodded. She handed over the reins, crossed her arms and stared at him. “Tell me more about Emma.”

He shrugged. That kind of detail hadn’t been part of the bargain, but…

“Not much to tell. She used to teach us slaves in secret, then openly when Union forces secured our town. I was her star pupil. We married and came West for a fresh start. She died giving birth to twin boys soon after we arrived. They followed her within a few hours.”

A soft light shone at him from her eyes. “Sorry for your loss.”

“None needed. Good comes from bad. Death, not slavery, took my boys from me. They never had to live as someone’s property.” He sat a little straighter. “Our children will never have to worry about that.”

“Our children?” She swiveled in her seat. “You made no mention of wanting children, just marital relations as necessary. I understood that to mean intercourse.”

“I wrote I wanted to leave a legacy.”

“A legacy. Not a dynasty.”

“Legacy. Dynasty. Is there really so sharp a distinction?”

“To my mind there is. I understood you meant to affect future generations—endow schools, found churches, create civic associations. I didn’t realize that meant children. I agreed to having sex, not having children.”

“Of course I want children.” His brows grew heavy as he frowned. “Doesn’t having sex lead to having children?”

“Not with the right precautions.”

His frown deepened. “Precautions?”

“There are many ways to prevent your seed from taking root, Mr. King.”

“I want children, Mrs. King.”

Her lips twisted and her brow furrowed, but she kept her silence.

“All right,” she said. “You can have children with any woman you like. I won’t stop you. I free you from any claim to fidelity.”

“Legacy—or dynasty if you will—means legitimacy. No bastard will carry my name, not when I have a wife to bear me children.”

“I see.”

Her tone signaled she didn’t.

Buylinks:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KTaGPH
Wild Rose Press: https://www.thewildrosepress.com/books/better-to-marry-than-to-burn

Find out more about Michal here:
Website: https://michalscott.webs.com/
Twitter: @mscottauthor1

People often ask where writers come up with ideas. I usually can’t pinpoint what exactly will spur story ideas, but here’s an example. The other evening, I was mowing the lawn. I got started late, and it’s getting darker earlier every night. My backyard backs up against a wooded area, and the sun had gone down. It was getting darker with every pass, but I wanted to finish. I was walking along, eyeing the forest when I heard a noise. Something was moving fast. I snapped my head around just in time to see a deer go tearing by, between me and the house. I mean, this thing was moving. Deer are usually very graceful, even at high speed. This one was not. He was so close to the ground, he looked like a torpedo, and he was getting ahead of how fast his legs could go. He stumbled, kind of bounced off a rise in the terrain, and shot across the neighbor’s yard back into the woods. Holy crap, did he startle me.

That’s when the questions started. Where did he come from? The forest, for sure. What would have happened if he’d run into me? It would not have been a pretty sight. Deer are not small animals. I was mowing with a large, very noisy piece of equipment. What compelled him to run across the open grass, instead of staying in the tree-line? Deer tend to move in herds. Where were his buddies? Were they out there lurking, too? What else was in there? Had something scarier than a human with a lawnmower made him run for his life? What was scarier to a deer than a lawnmower? Those thoughts all tumbled in my head. The dusk… The crickets chirping nearly as loudly as the lawnmower… The complete disappearance of the deer… Yeah, I didn’t make it for another pass. I quickly ended my mowing task for the night.

I finished the rest of the yard the next day, much earlier in the evening. Would you believe that deer came back? Or maybe it wasn’t him, because this animal was as bold as can be. He moseyed out from the trees, looked at me with my monster mower, shrugged, and started having dinner. He was out in the open, nibbling on grass and leaves the entire time it took me to finish my mowing job. Yes, the questions started again. If he’s so calm around me tonight, was there some kind of predator out there the night before? Why’s he so calm now? Can deer have multiple personalities? What if deer stopped being so timid? What if the deer rose up? Questions, questions, questions… That is how writers come up with ideas.

As you can probably guess from the direction of my thoughts, I tend to write a lot of paranormal romance. My latest is Haunted Hearts, a ghost story. I don’t remember what spurred this story idea, but it was probably a squeaking floorboard or my love of Ghost Hunters or a gust of wind. Anything can generate an idea, but I’m saving that deer. That’s definitely a shifter story.

Haunted Hearts

Does a ghost from the past want the man of her future?

Callie is thrilled when she inherits a house in the small town of Shadow Valley. The house is old and creaky, but she’s not afraid of hard work. Unfortunately, no matter how many repairs she makes, the strange noises won’t go away. Cold spots appear. Lights flicker. Footsteps sound down the hallway. Her nerves are soon so frayed that she resorts to calling the one person in town she hasn’t been able to get along with, bullheaded police chief Carter Landry.

Carter doesn’t have time to investigate things that go bump in the night—although, with Callie, the idea is tempting. He’s busy working with the governor’s task force on a major case and dealing with a rash of petty Halloween crimes. He knows that Callie’s house isn’t haunted… no matter what town legend says.

Still, when her distress call comes in, Carter is quick to respond. He may not believe in ghosts, but someone is intentionally scaring the sassy blonde. And he doesn’t like it. As he investigates, the friction between the two of them ignites into passion… and the strange occurrences in the house subside. But could Carter’s presence be the reason? Callie fears that her sexy cop may be the one the ghost has wanted all along.

Buy links:
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Haunted-Hearts-ghost-Kimberly-Dean-ebook/dp/B07FDDRFMS
Audible — https://www.audible.com/pd/B07JJHTSC3/?source_code=AUDFPWS0223189MWT-BK-ACX0-130964&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_130964_rh_us
Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/haunted-hearts-kimberly-dean/1129068549?ean=2940155661061
Google Play – https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kimberly_Dean_Haunted_Hearts?id=V95jDwAAQBAJ
iBook – https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/haunted-hearts/id1410571296?mt=11
Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/haunted-hearts-16

Website – https://kimberlydean.com

UPDATE: The winners of are EVERYONE who posted a comment!!
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Yes, I’m posting late, but yesterday flew by. I spent time with my sister, Elle James, and my mother. We made the rounds of mom’s doctors appointments and x-rays then visited two stops on a local artists’ studio tour. Mom and I came away from that determined to make more time for meetings at the local art guild! Enjoy today’s contest and the excerpt from an exceptionally dirty story, Two Wild for Teacher!

Contest

Win your choice of one of my Lone Star Lovers stories! I’ll choose three winners! Just comment below. Tell me whether you’d love more ménage stories.

Two Wild for Teacher

Two bad boy cowboys need a little tutoring to learn how to love…

Fathers know to keep their daughters close whenever Sam Logan’s twin sons come to town. Those two hell-raisers have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. All of it earned. When it becomes clear his youngest sons won’t settle down without another nudge, Sam reissues his challenge. Find a wife…

There’s only been one woman who could hold their attention for more than one night, but she’s been out of reach. Their former teacher’s a little too worried about a pesky morals clause to let them close. But they’re older now and ready to prove to her that sometimes rules are meant to be broken…

Molly Pritchet thinks her path is predetermined: to always be a child’s teacher, never a mother or a wife. Until the two boys who tempted her way back when crash back into her life. Overwhelmed by yearnings she’s long suppressed, she’s swept along on a tide of forbidden desires.

Excerpt

As she adjusted her burden in her arms again, Molly Pritchet wished she’d driven. She was hot, starting to sweat, and the muscles in her arms were beginning to burn with the weight of her box of personal items she’d emptied from her desk. Earlier, traces of roses and honeysuckle scenting the warm air had drawn her from her house, enticing her to get ready to embrace the last day of school and the start of her plans for a summer of blessed solitude, free of responsibility.

That morning, she hadn’t wanted to think about anything but the pretty day, the flowers she’d purchased to set into their beds, and the small, decorative pond she wanted to install in her backyard.

Besides, walking to and from the little high school was the only real exercise she ever got.

With every passing year, she fought a little harder to keep padding from settling on her rear and upper thighs. So, she walked, getting more of a workout than she’d planned, but enjoying the sounds of lawnmowers growling, birds chirping, and children playing.

Lord, she loved the sounds of children. Not something that had changed over the eight years she’d been teaching. And it was a true joy to meet up with graduates who remembered her and stopped by to tell her about their lives, and how she’d touched them.

She might never have her own, but there were plenty of children she’d helped raise in her own limited capacity.

The sound of footsteps on the sidewalk—heavy tread, a little hollow—men’s booted heels, came from behind her, and she edged to the side to let whomever was approaching pass.

However, the steps slowed, and before she knew it, she had a man at each elbow.

Her breath caught when she recognized them. “Mason, Jason,” she said, hoping they’d take her reddening cheeks for exertion, not delight. She’d always had the most inappropriate thoughts where these two were concerned.

Some things never changed. They both looked so handsome and tall—shaggy blond hair curling beneath the brims of their straw cowboy hats, matching blue work shirts—nicely ironed—and dark Wranglers that molded to powerful thighs. The only notable difference in their appearance was their boots. Mace Logan’s boots were saddle-brown leather while Jason’s were black. She didn’t need visual clues to keep the two of them straight. Unlike most folks in Two Mule, she’d always been able to tell them apart. Mace had a lazy smile that invited a woman to linger. Jason was a tad sharper, with a keen glance that had burned right through more than one woman’s defenses, or so she’d heard.

Good Lord, she’d just checked them out, and from Mace’s slow grin and Jason’s razor gaze, they both knew it. Read the rest of this entry »