A reader-friend of mine mentioned recently that she thinks I have the most intriguing “meet-cutes”—you know, those scenes where the hero and heroine first meet. I think I might have outdone myself with Animal and Allie’s meet-cute!  You’ll have to let me know!

Animal is here! I’ve already started on the next bounty hunter! If you haven’t read the series, there are now eight Montana Bounty Hunters! I love them, and hope to write about new hunters and revisit those I already love in future stories. As well, those of you who follow the series have probably already figured out I’m spinning off a new series, but that’s for another day.

Today, we celebrate my big, grumpy, sexy ANIMAL!

Happy reading, y’all!

Animal

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

A rough-around-the-edges bounty hunter takes a nature photographer on a wild ride.

Former SEAL, Russell “Animal” Hathcoat, retreated to a remote mountain cabin after leaving the Navy. Haunted by horrific images that replay in his nightmares of his last mission with his SEAL brothers, he intends to renovate the dilapidated cabin as penance and therapy, and to avoid rejoining the world around him. But then, someone who understands what he needs better than he does arrives to offer him a job.

Allie Travers loves the freedom and solitude of being a nature photographer and journalist–until the day she stares through her lens at a charging black bear. With her heart in her throat, she can only stand watching in horror, knowing she’ll never escape in time. But rescue comes in the form of a wild man who risks his life to frighten away the animal.

Once the danger is past, she’s told by his team of bounty hunters that she has more to fear than any animal in the woods. A felon is on the loose, and she has to accompany them to safety. Seeing an opportunity, Allie shadows the team as they hunt their prey deep in a national forest. Much to Animal’s dismay, more than just his protective instincts are aroused by the pretty photojournalist.

Get your copy here!
Animal is FREE on Kindle Unlimited for a very limited time!

And if you haven’t already read the stories leading up to ANIMAL, just click on the covers below!

 

 

UPDATE: The winner is…Rebecca Merz!
*~*~*

Series lovers, I have one for you! Love a lot of badass alpha heroes, fast action, great sex, and humor? Well, that’s what I deliver in Montana Bounty Hunters! And another installment is set to drop next Tuesday!

Are you caught up? No? Then click on a cover to pick up your copy of one of these fast-paced stories and begin your blitz-read through the series, because next Tuesday Animal is coming!

  

 

 

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Excerpt from Animal…

Animal tuned out the crackling, thudding sounds of his team members moving through the forest.

On day three after he’d joined the hunt, he wasn’t regretting his decision to give MBH a try. He’d been unwilling to make any long-term promises. Hadn’t signed a contract or filled out a W-9. Not yet, anyway. When Fetch had described what Tibbets had done, and then talked about the hunters who were already on his trail, Animal had felt a stirring of interest. Manhunts were something he was familiar with. So, he wasn’t hunting a high-dollar target through the Hindu Kush mountains. Wasn’t dropping into some walled compound to sweep a house in the dead of night.

Still, this felt familiar. Moving through the bushes. Tracking a target. Looking for campfires, footprints, signs Tibbets had stopped to piss or shit. That morning, they’d found a butchered deer. Most of the carcass had been left for scavengers. So, it hadn’t been left by a game hunter. He’d taken a portion of a haunch, had roasted it over a quickly built fire, and had eaten as much as he could before moving on.

Looked like Tibbets was feeling pretty sure he’d slipped the noose. He hadn’t even bothered to try to bury the evidence he’d been there.

The first afternoon, Animal had ridden along with Carly and Reaper. They’d shown him the warrant and pictures of Tibbets and his family. They’d canvassed businesses in Olney—gun shops, grocers, gas stations, but no one recalled seeing him or his cousin Murray.

That evening, they headed to Tibbets’s favorite haunt again. The women sat at the long polished bar, chatting up the bartender and the waitresses. Dagger and Mace played pool with two plugged-in and gossipy locals. Reaper and Animal sat at a table, watching the doors. But none of them were getting any bites.

About an hour into their surveillance, Hook and Cochise arrived.

Hook slapped a map on the table. “Found the parcel his family owns. It sits on a creek.”

“’Bout damn time,” Reaper had muttered.

The next morning, they’d geared up and surrounded a small, ratty camper trailer. Tibbets had been there recently but was now gone. After tearing through his belongings, searching for clues where he might have gone next, they bagged up dirty clothes for Mace’s dog Taco to scent on.

The moment Taco lowered his nose to the ground, following Tibbets’s trail from the camper’s metal steps, they’d realized the man had headed straight into the woods, afoot, rather than driving out.

They’d left Dagger, Lacey, and Cochise behind to watch for any movement in town, to keep an eye any one of his relatives who looked ready to head north with supplies to help him out, but the rest of the team grabbed their gear from their vehicles and began tracking him into Flathead National Forest.

Animal didn’t mind the rough conditions. He was accustomed to long marches and sleeping on the ground. None of the hunters, even Carly Stenberg, complained about the conditions, even after they’d endured a chilly rain the previous day. They’d dried their clothes beside a fire last night, reasonably assured they were still a day’s hike from catching up to Tibbets. Conversation had flowed around him, but he hadn’t felt the need to try to contribute.

This was a tight, well-trained crew, and they knew each other well. But they seemed to understand he wasn’t the chatty type. He rather liked the fact they let him be.

They came to the edge of the woods. A large meadow stretched before them, mountains in the background. The meadow was broken on one side by ridges of exposed rock.

“We got company,” Reaper said quietly. They all held back, remaining hidden by the brush. Reaper lifted an arm and pointed.

Animal pulled out his tactical telescope and followed Reaper’s direction, at last spotting a slender figure standing beside an outcropping. Not their mark. A woman. She stood in front of a tripod and peered into a camera. She had wheat-colored hair drawn back into a messy braid. She wore a red plaid shirt and a khaki vest over blue jeans and boots.

Suddenly, she jerked back her head, giving him a glimpse of her profile. Her eyebrows were lowered, her mouth dropping as she stared down the hill.

He turned his telescope toward whatever had caught her attention and immediately understood her concern.

A baby black bear ambled into the clearing, heading upward toward her location.

“Where’s mama?” he whispered.

As though answering his question, a loud bellow sounded from the forest farther down the tree line. A bear ran out, huffing and bellowing, heading toward the woman.

He didn’t have even a millisecond to think through a better plan. Animal dumped his pack and ran into the clearing, tearing at his shirt. When he’d ripped off the buttons down the front, he flapped the edges, trying to make himself look bigger. “Ha! Ha!” he yelled as loud as he could to draw the bear’s attention away from the woman.

Mama Bear bounced on her front paws and spun toward him.

“Don’t shoot unless you have to!” Animal tossed over his shoulder to Reaper.

“Don’t get in my line of fire!” Reaper shouted back.

“Don’t shoot her!” the woman screamed.

“You, shut up!” Animal yelled, still running, still flapping.

The bear’s head moved from Animal to Reaper behind him, and again to the woman, likely trying to decide who was the biggest danger to her cub.

The baby bear squalled and changed direction, running for his mama.

Just when Animal feared the bear would charge, she spun and ran into the woods, her cub running right behind her.

Animal halted, breathing hard. He gave another flap of his shirt. “Ha! Ha!” he shouted, hoping she’d been startled bad enough not to turn around.

Then he heard a whirring sound, coming from up the rise. He turned his head toward the woman. The sound came from her camera. Animal gave her a fierce glare then began to stalk up the rise.

When he reached her, she straightened and flashed him a wide smile. “Thanks for that. Thought for a second there I was going to be lunch.”

“What the hell!” he bellowed, anger shot through him. Didn’t she have a clue how close to being “lunch” he’d been, trying to rescue her? And all she’d thought about was taking her damn pictures?

Her eyebrows shot upward, and she stood still.

Behind him, he heard more of his team stomping up the hill. He should have turned and walked away. Should have let Reaper handle getting her packed up and off the mountain. Away from him.

Instead, anger vibrated through him. He glanced at the gear strewn around her feet. “Who the hell comes out to the wilderness without a goddamn gun?”

“The only shots I plan to take are with my camera,” she said icily, lifting her chin.

He ground his teeth as his face heated.

“Wish I’d been shooting video though,” she said. “The footage would’ve gone viral. Do you chase bears often?”

He narrowed his gaze, not liking her smartass tone. Did she know how close he was to exploding? Men he’d fought with knew better than to talk to him when he was like this.

A throat cleared beside him. “Ma’am, you need to pack up,” Reaper said, his voice even.

Her hazel gaze darted from Animal to the man standing beside him. “Why? She’s gone.”

“The bear’s the least of what you have to worry about out here.”

She seemed to finally take in the fact that she was surrounded by five well-armed strangers. “Were you tracking her?”

“We don’t hunt bear,” Reaper said, his voice lowering.

Animal felt a little of his steam begin to cool hearing Reaper’s clipped delivery. Someone else here got the fact she had no business out here. Alone.

“Well, I thank you for your advice, but I have no intention of packing up and leaving. It took me three days to get here. I’ll be setting up camp.” She bent and swiped at the straps of her backpack then reached inside it. She pulled out a small 9mm Colt Defender but had the good sense to point it away from the group. “I’m not unarmed.”

Animal grunted. “Think that would have stopped her? If you didn’t hit her in the head, you’d just piss her off.”

“Well, that’s not your worry, is it?” Again, she lifted her chin.

Damn, if his body didn’t go hard. The way she locked her gaze with his, she didn’t show any fear. Foolish was what she was. He could get around her gun and have her on the ground in the time it took her to realize he’d even moved.

“This is no place for a woman on her own, not today,” Reaper said.

Her back stiffened. Her cheeks paled just a bit.

“We’re not what you should fear,” Carly said quickly, stepping past Animal and Reaper. “It’s gonna take a few minutes for these two get over the adrenaline rush to explain. I’m Carly,” she said, reaching out her hand.

The woman passed the gun from her right to her left and shook Carly’s hand. “Carly, it’s nice to meet you.” She didn’t smile, and her gaze kept scanning the rest of them, like she expected them to make a move against her.

Animal drew a deep breath. He knew what she saw. He wasn’t into scaring women. Happened naturally, often enough. He set his hands on his hips and glanced at the ground while he waited for the tension in his body to ease.

“We’re bounty hunters,” Carly said. “We’ve been tracking a dangerous felon. He’s in this area. It’s not safe for you to be here.”

As Animal glanced up again, the woman’s frown deepened. “I’ve been here a day. Haven’t seen anyone but you. How do I even know you’re telling me the truth?”

Carly glanced back at Reaper. “Show her the warrant.”

Reaper reached into his pack and pulled out the folder. He passed it to the woman.

She held the folder in the crook of the arm and thumbed through the documents. “Okay, so I believe you’re what you say. But since you’re on his trail and he’s not here, why do I have to leave? Obviously, he’s already passed my location.”

“Because there are going to be more teams out here, combing the area. We’ve got the jump on everyone else. When other teams arrive, our skip might double back to evade them. No place in this wilderness is safe.”

Her lips thinned then twisted. Her gaze went back to Animal. “Dammit, I just got here.”

Animal stepped forward, using his body to intimidate her. Yeah, he felt no shame doing that. Not when scaring her into making the right choice could keep her safe. “You’re not safe on your own. Pack up.”

Damned if the woman’s mouth didn’t twitch like she wanted to laugh.

He glared.

She arched a brow. “You’re right. It’s not safe to be alone out here.”

Her expression gave him no ease. He narrowed his eyes until they were slits as he waited for what else she intended to say, because there was no way in hell she was giving up so easily.

She gave a little shrug and grinned. “I’ll go with you.”

I’ve written romance for the last five years. In that time, I’ve read even more. From contemporary to paranormal I love multiple sub-genres. In that same amount of time, I’ve always loved action adventure movies, including sci-fi movies and shows. Imagine my surprise when my muse sent me an idea that would combine them both.

Queue the futuristic world, where humans have colonized the galaxy and the richest have migrated to planets like Jupiter, Neptune, and Saturn, leaving Earth to become a haven for the production of drugs and booze. Out of these ashes emerge drug runners and bootleggers to carry the fruits of Earth’s labor to the upper planets, outsmarting the government and making as much money as they can.

It’s a bit lawless, and crafting this story and world was filled with fun and a bit of frustration. I did plenty of research in the form of watching episodes of some awesome movies and television shows. Today, I want to talk about some of my favorites.

First up, Farscape. We humans think we’re the smartest beings in the known universe. When NASA Scientist and Astro-genius, John Crichton is slingshot to the far side of the universe, he finds out otherwise. Add in the super soldier, Aeryn Sun, female bad ass, and I was smitten from episode one. Fun fact is how the Muppet Studios were involved in this series and the unique, fresh take on possible alien species. Four seasons was never enough.

Second, Dark Matter. This series is another that was cut too short. There was so much to explore, from character dynamics to other dimensional threats. Beyond that, this is another series where there are a ton of strong females to feed off of as inspiration—Number Two and her fabulous run as captain of a ship, add in a younger female techie, Number Five, and the ever hilarious Android. It’s a female fab cast, rounded out with male characters who respect and support them even amid heists and running from the law.

Finally, Firefly. This 13-episode series holds a special place in my heart, as it does for many. The dialogue is priceless, the character building sublime. Nobody holds a candle to Captain Malcolm Reynolds, the guy who wants to be an anti-hero, but ultimately isn’t. Kaylee, River, and Zoe. Yes, I like Inara too, but she’s not my favorite. The strong females are fabulous and not in the least intimidated by their Captain. If anything his strengths encourage the ladies to run with their own.

I’ve waxed poetic enough about my favorite sci-fi shows. What are yours? There are many I haven’t mentioned. Some more spec fiction than sci-fi per se. Like Fringe, Warehouse 13, Sliders, Star Trek (all the iterations). Tell me your favorite sci-fi show, movie, character – even if it’s from a video game. Be sure to comment to get in on my sweet giveaway in honor of my new release, A Talent For Trouble.

A Talent For Trouble

Drug runner Emilio Morales is one deal away from being the sole runner from Earth to the upper planets—until his partner attempts a double-cross. Now, Emilio’s stuck in a disabled spaceship with an unpredictable, attractive female who’s willing to help him out if he’ll assist her in retrieving her ship from an impound facility.

Antonia ‘Toni’ Smith is sick and tired of being beholden to men. The only way to guarantee freedom is to get back her bootlegging ship to run her own business again. When Emilio kills her ticket out, she’s forced to rely on him for assistance. Emilio, the most wanted and annoying man in the solar system, is a sexy-as-hell means to an end.

But every plan the duo makes falls apart and every day they spend in each other’s company increases the tension between them.

With the death toll rising and their defenses low, can Emilio and Toni get the happy ending they want, without falling for each other in the process?

Buy Links:
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Totally Bound | Goodreads

Excerpt

He poured himself a glass. Turning it slowly, spreading the liquid up the sides and back down, he noticed he wasn’t alone. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“No,” a sultry feminine voice responded. “There’s nothing over there isn’t made in the still or fermented in a barrel.”

“Suit yourself.” Emilio turned and took in the view. Mother Mary.

The woman, a vision of sin, stood angled toward the fancy window display where three floor-to-ceiling panels showcased the twinkling view. She wore a glimmering red dress, which sparkled even more as she turned toward him. Her hair was a pale-white blonde, short and framing her face, giving it a distinct diamond shape. She’d be labeled gorgeous, more than the word could construe, with her eyes the color of whiskey—and not the cheap stuff in his glass. No, the full-bodied swirling amber and caramel colors.

“What brings you to Casa Manolo?” He swallowed a little more whiskey than he intended and did his best to sound suave, but the words came out more like a croak.

“Nothing that concerns you.” The dismissal paired with a smile, a little thing revealing flawless teeth. He glanced down at her one note of defiance—boots. Grav boots to be exact, black and fierce. A deep, soul-encapsulating need clamped onto his brain, a need he’d waited years to experience. This was the woman he’d been waiting for. The type he’d always wanted. The one he’d call his.

He walked closer, eager to see if she took a similar interest in him. “Oh? Well, I’m happy to make this visit less business and more pleasure. Your name is?”

The words escaped his mouth as he glanced at her lips—expressive, full and waiting for his kiss, even when those same lips uttered, “Too expensive for you.”

About the Author

Landra Graf consumes at least one book a day, and has always been a sucker for stories where true love conquers all. She believes in the power of the written word, and the joy such words can bring. In between spending time with her family and having book adventures, she writes romance with the goal of giving everyone, fictional or not, their own happily ever after.

Author Links:
Website: https://landragraf.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LandraGraf
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/landra.graf
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Landra-Graf/e/B00IESJED4/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1440641120&sr=8-1

For the sake of argument, everything I’m about to share with you is absolutely my opinion unless I am citing a statistic, in which case, I’ll tell you where I got it from. Cool? Great.

What makes the best stories tick? How much we, the audience, empathize with the characters. Take a step back with me for a moment as I roll the clock back to 1984. I could go back farther, but I am specifically going back to the day I saw the first Terminator movie. I was 12, and I saw it on a Saturday afternoon at my favorite theatre. Me, my popcorn, and my mom settled in to watch the movie.

As a side point, I love sci-fi movies, and Terminator had time travel, so check! I loved big action pieces, with lots of booms, and the film definitely had those. I loved characters I could invest in, and go on this journey with—and guess what, yep, Terminator had that in spades.

More, it had characters I empathized with. Sarah Connor didn’t seem to be particularly special. She was a waitress and had a roommate and was just trying to make ends meet. She could have been my neighbor, or my friends or even one of my parents. My mom was a waitress. So right away, I’m invested in her. Now she spends half the movie getting chased by some unstoppable killing machine and kidnapped by a guy who feeds her this story about being from the future.

Her reaction is what any one of us would have. Are you crazy?

Yet, in the end, she falls in love (or at least some mad survival lust) with Reese, and then in a final battle, manages to kill the Terminator. She does it. Reese keeps her alive long enough to help, and he survives long enough to do some damage, but Sarah rescues herself at the end.

Holy crap. This was like when Princess Leia grabbed the blaster and started shooting. Or when she told them all to jump into the garbage chute. Leia, who’d been held captive, actively participated in her own rescue. In later films, Leia is part of the strategy, the straight-up fights, and eventually strangles Jabba the Hutt during the rescue of Han. Leia was a bad ass.

Sarah Connor inherited that mantle.

Now I can go on and on about the badass heroines of action movies (trust me, I could), but here’s the thing—too often I heard when I was growing up that action movies were for guys. Rom coms were for chicks. We even call them “chick flicks”. My parents wouldn’t get me Star Wars toys, cause those were for boys. But I could have this pretty pink Barbie, cause it was for girls.

Action-Adventure whether it’s Terminator, or The Bourne Identity, or The Avengers isn’t just for “boys.” In fact, according to Deadline.com (see I told you I’d cite the data), Avengers: Infinity War had an audience of 40% women. Of course, it also had a huge audience period as culmination of 10 years of franchise building. A franchise I have wholly supported and am a tremendous fan of.

Why?

Cause I can empathize with those characters whether he’s a king of a hidden country with mystical powers or a narcissistic billionaire in a suit or a remnant of the cold war era spy with varying shades of gray to her morality. I can empathize because the writing, and the action, and the characters themselves have invited us along on this journey.

At the end of the day though, my love of action adventure with elements of romance or not, dates back to that Saturday afternoon in a theater as the end credits began to roll on Terminator. The film didn’t have a happily ever after, if anything, the ending was ominous. A promise that all the horrible things Reese warned her of were coming, yet we also had this sense of hope and Sarah was invested in saving her son and eventually the future.

I love writing these types of stories in some fashion whether it’s a paranormal adventure about wolves on the hunt or military insertion to save someone or a humorous romp of royals trying to deal with life. It’s about the adventure, and yeah, the action. I love reading them, too. Or watching them. Sometimes we’ll pick up a book or go to the movie because it looks cool, but we only stick around or come back for more if it takes us deeper.

Whether it’s saving your kids, saving your house—hell saving the cat—we can live vicariously through the heroes and heroines in our books, and our movies. I love multi-dimensional heroes and heroines. My heroes are not all alphas, and my heroines are not all helpless, needing to be saved. Sometimes the battle is intense and physical, sometimes it’s haunting and emotional.

It’s always about the journey.

Okay, and the hot guys. Yeah, I’m a little shallow.

Sometimes.

What do you love about action/adventure and romance? Do you have a favorite film?

Don’t Miss Heather’s Brand New Releases in the Special Forces & Brotherhood Protectors series:

Shielding Shayna

Honor comes in all sizes.

Shayna Morgan has been a little bit of everything in her life—a daughter, a niece, a sailor, an investigator, and homeless. Nerve damage has left her with only partial feeling on her right side, and pain threatened to cripple her. Family pulled her home from where she slept in her car outside of DC, but it was the men and women of the Brotherhood Protectors who inspired her and gave her a purpose. She may not be able to fire a gun with any accuracy, but her new project fulfills her in so many other ways—helping other female vets just like her. It’s all hard, honest work and good sweat until a shadowy threat takes aim at her ranch.

Purpose comes in all shapes.

Fergus “Oddjob” Roper went into the Air Force at 18, before making a lateral move to the Navy, and then left the SEALs when he was 33. After 15 years of service, two wars, multiple deployments and 3 degrees, he’s looking for his next mission. After a year in Texas working with a horse trainer specializing in equine support animals, he’s heading to Montana to visit with old friends. He came for the beer, and stayed for the women…one woman in particular. Oddjob doesn’t mind mucking stalls, or helping out on the project—but what he wants is to shield the woman who saved his life, even if she doesn’t know it.

Link: https://heatherlong.net/books/military/special-forces-brotherhood-protectors-kindle-worlds/brotherhood-protectors-shielding-shayna/

Covering Coco

Life between the cross hairs

Retired Navy SEAL John Jacob “Jacko” Johnson earned a reputation for being cool under pressure, having more kills from behind the scope of a sniper rifle than anyone else active on the teams, and being a total smartass. Some things don’t change, and not even a traumatic brain injury sidelining him keeps him from kicking in when his friends need it—most recently a top-secret mission to retrieve a lost asset.

Bolt action is louder than words

Coco Adler’s military career ended abruptly on a dishonorable discharge. Or so reads her military file. Recruited for a top-secret program, she digs in deep. When her cover is nearly compromised and she can’t reach her handler, she goes dark but stays on mission. The last thing she expects is a lunatic in a Hawaiian shirt to take her down a moment before a sniper’s bullet would have.

Forced to work together, Jacko will do everything to cover Coco’s extraction—even if it kills him.

Link: https://heatherlong.net/books/military/special-forces-brotherhood-protectors-kindle-worlds/special-forces-operation-alpha-covering-coco/

I should be better at planning stories. I teach plotting. I definitely know how to do it. But for some weird reason, when I sit down to plot out stories in a series, I falter.

Maybe it’s because I’m learning who my story peeps are as I write them. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid if I plot too well, I’ll lose that feeling of discovery, those breathless surprised moments I get as I write. I love for a story to reveal itself as I move through my characters’ lives. And I hate, hate, hate being trapped inside a story that bores me.

I would however like some kind of stratospheric view of where my Montana Bounty Hunters are going.

Do you like the graphic I made? Do you like that catch phrase—“Authentic Men, Real Adventure”?

I know that was jarring, but my mind hops like that. I played in Canva today, making that picture at the top. What was I saying?

Well, at least I know what the next book will be about, or at least WHO it will be about. I have a name. I found a piece of art I though portrayed him well, and my sis made me a cover. Often, that’s all I’ve got when I start writing. I’ll get to know Cochise (Do you like that name?) as I write him, and then I’ll figure out what story he has to tell. I also have a cover and a name for the next story, Hook, but no clue where to start. Hopefully, Cochise will meet him along the way…

 

Just as I began writing my urban fantasy novel, How the Vortex Changed My Life, I had the challenge of writing a character who doesn’t speak. At least, not in English, nor any human speech. He uses sounds like a cat’s meow or a horn blasting to communicate. I named him “Larry.” I was worried that I wouldn’t do a good job on him. I told myself not to worry, he was just a secondary character. This novel was my heroine, Cat’s, story. 

The novel grew into more than a story about Cat growing strong while facing the apocalypse. She learned that having good friends to stop it proved invaluable. Of course, one of them happened to be Larry. Larry who decided he would not be cannon fodder, or forgettable.

Larry found his voice, or should I say, his sounds, in this novel. My critique groups and beta readers liked Larry. The little demon, shaped like an eyeball that was the size of a standard poodle, had dug his way into readers’ hearts, and in mine. He proved to be a hero, too, demon or not. Secondary character or not, I knew he had to be on the cover, at Cat’s side, as he deserved it. 

It makes me think of other books I’ve written over the years, where a secondary character develops a personality that people remember as much as the main character’s. I write paranormal romance under a pseudonym, Sapphire Phelan, and have a sequel, A Familiar Tangle With Hell, to an erotic urban fantasy, Being Familiar With a Witch. There is a demonic being in it, who looks like a white bunny with a fluffy tail, named “Fluffy.” He developed his own personality in the storyline. He possessed me to write him, the same as Larry did later. Demons with a heart of gold.

There are many books over the years we’ve all read where a secondary character has grabbed the reader’s heart. Sometimes this character isn’t always a good person, like Gollum in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. Sometimes, he/she is the comedy relief. Other times, he/she is brave and loyal. This person/animal/creature can be anything. Like Batman’s Robin, Sherlock Holmes’ Dr. Watson, and William Crawley’s Mr. Carson who are the assistant or companion. Other secondary characters are the foil, the roadblock, and of course, the antagonist.

 A secondary character must have an individual purpose for being in your story. All of them have a common purpose, to help move the story forward in interest-grabbing ways. A secondary character cannot become so prominent that he or she competes with the main character for the reader’s attention and concern. A secondary character who doesn’t flow naturally in the story should always be avoided.

Still, a secondary character, who is interesting, can eventually, in future books, become a major character. It just works out that way.

Pamela K. Kinney

Journey to worlds of fantasy, beyond the stars, and into the vortex of terror with the written word of Pamela K. Kinney.

PamelaKKinney.com| Blog | Facebook

How the Vortex Changed My Life

Cat Viggolone just can’t get a break. She’d gotten married, but that ended when the husband left her for his younger secretary. She’d wanted children. That flew out the window along with the cheating husband. There’s the career, but working a window at the Virginia DMV can’t really be classified as a great career choice. At thirty-three, her life had become positively dull.

Then the vortex opened. 

Sucked up into a corridor just outside of Hell, she meets Connor, a werewolf, and Larry, a demon that looks like a blue-eyed eyeball. They escape back to earth, only to find that the vortex has opened up in downtown Richmond. The town is going to hell, literally. Besides a grayness seeping out and turning all living things into zombies, monsters and demons are invading Cat’s world.

 Will Cat and her new friends (including an angel named George) be able to stop the vortex before it claims the entire planet?
Cat’s life is definitely no longer humdrum and ordinary.

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Excerpt from How the Vortex Changed My Life:

Connor and I arrived at some stone steps. We clattered up them and into the Richmond Public Library. After we stepped into the foyer and passed the circulation desk we looked around, unsure of where to go. I saw a room to the left of us, pointed at it, and we slipped inside. Rows and rows of books in shelves lined the area like soldiers marching behind each other. A portly man in khaki pants, white shirt, and a blue, flowered tie sat behind a desk. He looked up and smiled.

“Can I be of assistance?” His smile faltered as he stared past me.

He’s seen Larry. This won’t be good.

He stood, his forehead wrinkling. “That’s pretty life like. What is it? A balloon? I can’t see any string attached to it.”

Deciding not to beat around the bush, I blurted, “He’s not a balloon. He’s an eyeball—actually, he’s a demon.”

The man said, “Are you trying to say that whatever it is, is alive?”

“Kinda. I guess demons are sort of alive.”

The librarian walked over to us and poked at Larry. Larry didn’t like it and started that weird bleating noise he could make and bumped against the man. He bumped him so hard, he almost knocked the librarian over. The man managed to stay on his feet, and took a couple of steps back as he wiped the finger on his pants as if Larry had given him cooties.

Connor grabbed the librarian by the same finger and squeezed hard. The man cried out.

Connor let go. “Larry doesn’t like people poking at him.” He glared. “It’s rude. Besides, how would you like it if I poked at you?” Connor proceeded to do just that.

The librarian stumbled back. “Okay, okay. But what is that thing? The lady called it a demon, but demons aren’t real. Right?”

Connor snorted. “That thing is a demon like the lady said and if it wasn’t for him, I’d been dead within hours after I got trapped in Hell.” Larry bumped against Connor and made another noise I never heard before, like a cat’s purr. “I find Larry is a lot more ‘human’ than you humans are.”

“Well, you look as human as the rest of us,” said the librarian with a snotty attitude, “and that eye beastie definitely doesn’t.” He narrowed his eyes. “This library is for humans only. I mean, non-human things can’t get a library card issued to them.” He saw Connor give him a glowering look and inched away. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s the rules.”

I spoke up. “We’re not here to borrow a book.” I snuck a look at the front entrance. “We needed a place to hide in. You see, a monster is after us. A very big monster. And there are others outside like it and Larry here. A vortex opened not far from here and downtown Richmond is turning gray and I don’t mean Confederate gray either. Richmond’s new address is now a part of the Hell dimension. The whole world is doomed. And I don’t think it really matters whether Larry can be issued a library card, or what species can use this library.”

The librarian’s mouth opened and shut in shock, his eyes bulging and looking like tennis balls. He sputtered, “You’re nuts.” He cut a glance at Larry who hovered closer to him. “I think you guys are pulling something on me. That thing has got to be fake.”

I grabbed him by his ugly tie. “Look, Hell is taking over Richmond, and soon, Virginia, not long after, the U.S., and from there, maybe the world. So, get over it. Larry is not fake. He’s a demon, plain and simple, but maybe you can’t comprehend it. I know I couldn’t at first. That means no more people checking out books, no more Christmas, cute fluffy kittens, no more anything good and right for humankind. Just demons, Hell, and the end of life as we know it.”

Find How the Vortex Changed My Life at AMAZON in both print and Kindle and at BarnesandNoble.com in print only.

About the Author

Pamela K. Kinney gave up long ago trying not to listen to the voices in her head and has written bestselling horror, fantasy, science fiction, poetry, and nonfiction ghost books ever since. Three of her nonfiction ghost books garnered Library of Virginia nominations. Her horror short story, “Bottled Spirits,” was runner up for the 2013 WSFA Small Press Award and is considered one of the seven best genre short fiction for that year.

She also writes under the pseudonym, Sapphire Phelan, for erotic and regular paranormal romance. Her erotic urban fantasy, ‘Being Familiar with a Witch’ won the 2013 Prism awarded by the Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal chapter of Romance Writers of America. Discover more about Sapphire at SapphirePhelan.com.


Pamela and her husband live with one crazy black cat. Along with writing, Pamela has acted onstage and film, does paranormal investigations for Paranormal World Seekers for AVA Productions, and is a member of Horror Writers Association and Virginia Writers Club.

I want to start by thanking Delilah for letting me come hang out here with you all today. She’s always very gracious about sharing her space, and that’s something I admire.

So, setting the mood… For a party, for a date, for a story, for romance.  It’s a pretty important thing for all kinds of reasons—you don’t want the fun, happy party you’ve planned for your toddler to dissolve into the shrieks of a dozen kids when the clown you hired is too scary, right?—but in a romance novel, setting the mood can mean different things.

What sort of mood would you expect for a sweet romance?  Light, not too complicated, still romantic, but nothing extreme, right?

What about romantic suspense? Generally, I would think darker, lots of tension in all situations, romantic and otherwise. Though I will say I like some lighter moments even in those sorts of stories, too. Too much non-stop tension isn’t good for reader or characters, is it?

Paranormal? One of the reasons I like those so much is they can be any mood, any tone, depending on the story. Like them dark? Plenty of choices.  Lighter? Lots of those, too.

One of my favorite authors for setting the mood is not even a romance writer, but Stephen King does it so well, drawing a reader into his characters’ stories and making them feel every bit of fear they’re feeling, setting the mood so when the character is sure the monster is about to jump out at them, you feel it, too, then feel the rush of relief when it turns out not to be the monster (yet!) but just a dog or someone innocuous. I think Gerald’s Game is fantastic for that—when that book came out, my mother-in-law started reading it, but didn’t get very far, because she was too afraid, so she handed it off to me without even finishing the book.  It scared me, too, and I loved every page of it.

But romance writers do it every bit as well, setting the mood for their stories, the right tone to pull readers in to meet the characters and want to know more, to have to know more. Plus we get to set the mood for other things, like falling in love, like a heroine having her heart broken to bits when it seems the romance really can’t work out.  If we’re doing it right, we’re right there with them when we’re writing, the way we hope readers will be when they get their hands on our stories—appalled when one of the characters does something awkward or stupid, perhaps changing our minds about a character we were afraid couldn’t be redeemed, and most especially feeling the emotion when our characters are falling in love.

We know it isn’t supposed to be easy for them. In fact, we try very hard to make it as difficult as we can for them to get to that happy ending.  But we want them to get there, so we give them the opportunity to have little moments that help them not give up, to make them want to keep fighting whatever foe they have so they can live happily ever after. Sometimes getting the mood right is easy, but sometimes it’s really hard, and the characters don’t want to cooperate—“What? You want me to fight with John? Well, I don’t want to fight. I want to step back and get some ice cream.”

For me, a good soundtrack helps with getting the mood right, but not always.  Right now, I’m trying to figure out the songs that will work best to put me in the right frame of mind for the story. Plenty of good songs for a fight, so many romantic songs to sway the mind into the proper mood.

I’d like to know how you get into the right mood for your ‘story’, whether it’s household chores, or a date with your S.O. Is it music? It is a scent? Is it a piece of clothing? What can you count on to change your mood when you need to?  I have a paperback copy of Hunting Medusa to give away, so everyone who comments will get their name entered into a drawing via RandomResult.com  My thanks again to Delilah for letting me come and play here again.

About the Author

Elizabeth Andrews has been a book lover since she was old enough to read.  She read her copies of Little Women and the Little House series so many times, the books fell apart.  As an adult, her book habit continues.  She has a room overflowing with her literary collection right now, and still more spreading into other rooms.  Almost as long as she’s been reading great stories, she’s been attempting to write her own.  Thanks to a fifth grade teacher who started the class on creative writing, Elizabeth went from writing creative sentences to short stories and eventually full-length novels.  Her father saved her poor, callused fingers from permanent damage when he brought home a used typewriter for her.

Elizabeth found her mother’s stash of romance novels as a teenager, and-though she loves horror- romance became her very favorite genre, making writing romances a natural progression.  There are more than just a few manuscripts, however, tucked away in a filing cabinet that will never see the light of day.

Along with her enormous book stash, Elizabeth lives with her husband of more than twenty years.  When she’s not at work or buried in books or writing, there is a garden outside full of herbs, flowers and vegetables that requires occasional attention.

Hunting Medusa

The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1

When Kallan Tassos tracks down the current Medusa, he expects to find a monster. Instead he finds a wary, beautiful woman, shielded by a complicated web of spells that foils his plans for a quick kill and retrieval of her protective amulet.

Andrea Rosakis expects the handsome Harvester to go for the kill. Instead, his attempt to take the amulet imprinted on her skin without harming her takes her completely by surprise. And ends with the two of them in a magical bind—together. But Kallan isn’t the only Harvester on Andi’s trail…

Excerpt:

Andi couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. She’d worked into the night after the vacuum salesman’s appearance, until she couldn’t see straight to continue with her beading. Then she’d sunk into the bubble bath long enough to be nearly asleep. Today, she’d repeated everything but the bubble bath. Plus she’d driven into town to ship the big order she’d finished early.

Now she sat in the dark beside the front window, watching the forest. Waiting. Trying to convince herself nothing was coming. No one.

When the phone rang, she jumped about two feet in the air, barely keeping in a shriek. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to laugh weakly as she picked up the receiver. “Hello, Aunt Lydia.” She didn’t need caller I.D. to know when one of her cousins or aunts was on the phone.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” came the quavering voice. “I just wanted to touch base with you. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”

Her slightly psychic great-aunt must have spoken to Andi’s mother. “I know. I’ve been busy working.” She thought of the small stack of boxed beaded bracelets sitting on her desk upstairs for another customer whose order wasn’t even due for a month and a half. Read the rest of this entry »