UPDATE: The winner is…Colleen C!
*~*~*

My love of historical fiction springs from the nexus of where imagination meets fact. Through her time-telescope book, Jubilee, poet author Margaret Walker hurls me back in time to the American Civil War as experienced by a slave family based on the life of her great-grandmother. James Michener does the same on the multicultural history of Colorado in Centennial. My erotic historicals don’t come anywhere near the scope of these sagas, yet in “The Patience of Unanswered Prayer” imagination meets fact as it does in Walker’s and Michener’s work.

As he brings my heroine Eleanor Taylor to safety, my hero Franklin Adams muses on family life that could have been his but for slavery. I created this life for him, i.e., the backstory of his ancestors in Africa from my research. The image above is from the New York Public Library’s Schomburg digital collection. It shows an African man feeding cattle. Michael Grauer, the McCasland Chair of Cowboy Culture and Curator of Cowboy Collections and Western Art at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, in Oklahoma City is quoted as saying “cowboy traditions originated in Africa, where cattle herders would rope cattle on foot, and the likes of the Maasai people drove them toward better lands for grazing.”

My research for this story also found that while Blacks enjoyed more respect and freedom driving cattle in the West, they rarely rose to trail boss or foreman. Yet reading about Bose Ikard, one of the most famous Black Texas frontiersmen and trail drivers, I learned this former slave, who worked on several of the Goodnight-Loving cattle drives, was so trustworthy Charles Goodnight often put him in charge of the cash collected at the end of the trail. Thus, I created Franklin, also a former slave, with an ancestral knowledge of the best way to handle cattle and equally trusted like Ikard. My imagination met these two facts and created one of those rare exceptions: a Black trail boss.

Other famous Black Westerners could have been models for Franklin as well. One was former slave Nat Love, also known as Deadwood Dick, who worked for large cattle spreads in Texas and Arizona. He recounts his life in his autobiography, The Life and Adventures of Nat Love. Another could have been Bill Pickett who is credited with creating bulldogging. While these facts did not meet imagination in my present story, I can easily see how they might in future ones.

So for a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share in the comments some interesting piece of history that may have sparked your imagination.

“The Patience of Unanswered Prayer”
in Cowboys: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology

A feisty businesswoman about to become the next victim of Post-Civil War revenge receives rescue from an unexpected source

Excerpt from “The Patience of Unanswered Prayer”…

She prayed Flyte would ungag her quickly, prayed her gut was right that he wasn’t party to whatever Radcliffe had planned.

Flyte pulled down the gag.

“He’s going to kill me,” she rasped, her mouth free of the loathsome muzzle. “You have to stop him.”

“Kill you?” Flyte blenched. “He’s done this for your safety.”

“Taking me the long way round to Darlington City in the dead of night is for my safety?”

“A mob was waiting to lynch you.”

“You know that’s not true. Radcliffe trumped up these charges against me to put me at his mercy.”

“Gordon Daniels brought the charges against you.”

“At Radcliffe’s urging. Daniels is ex-Confederate and can’t cotton any Black—man or woman—doing better than Whites.”

“Why would the sheriff do that? He’s an ex-Yankee who hates confederates like Daniels.”

“Radcliffe hates me more. He wants revenge on me for rebuffing his attentions.”

“I can’t believe—” Flyte paused, then looked thoughtful. A frown filled his face. “Yet…”

His hesitation gave her hope. Her gut tensed, and her heart beat until her chest hurt.

“You know full well taking me from jail is either foolishness or mischief.”

The cock of a gun hammer turned them both in the same direction.

*~*~*

Buy link: Amazon – https://amzn.to/3iwUhkN
Michal Scott Amazon Author Page – https://amzn.to/2TSHzRn
Website: www.michalscott.webs.com

Fan fiction may be the black sheep of the media world, but to me, it’s a fabulous feast of never-ending possibilities. But sometimes, I’ll see commenters post that something “read like fan fiction” and frown at my phone.

Because, to me, “reads like fan fiction” is an amazing compliment.

If you’re not familiar, fan fiction, fanfic, or even just “fic”, is fiction written by fans—of a movie, TV series, book, artist, musician, or other property—about the thing they’re a fan of. Fan art totally counts, too. They’re considered transformative works, and the writers and artists do it for free, for the love of the fandom they’re a part of.

Note: Everyone has their opinions on the legality or legitimacy of fanfic, and I’m not going to get into any of that, so I’m gonna leave this here and here.

I doubt there’s a fic author out there who hasn’t heard some variation of: “If you want to write so badly, why not write something original and not waste your time on…that.”

It’s not like it’s a new idea. Take the relationship between the Renaissance and the Bible—all that art, all those plays, poems, and stories are pure fanfic.

As a kid, I used to make up stories and spent a huge amount of time in other peoples’ worlds through reading. There weren’t a lot of other children in my neighborhood, but my imagination was a constant companion. One of my elementary school teachers had faith in me, and she helped me actually write some of these stories down.

I’m sure they’re languishing somewhere in storage at my parents’ house, which means I’m seconds away from getting a text saying they’ve been found and they’re in the mail.

As I continued my education, I took a creative writing course in high school and enjoyed my English classes, but in what felt like a nanosecond, I was in college. After graduating, I did everything from insurance to finance to sales. All that time, a starving creature vaguely resembling a blank Word document whispered inside me, begging to be fed. I barely heard it over the sound of life.

When the workday was over I had plenty of time on my hands, which translated to plenty of time spent reading books, or doing late 2000s things online. Soon I was hunting for something new to read. By chance, I discovered the YA book series Twilight.

The story was exactly what I needed to read at the time, and I finished the books as fast as Edward running back to Bella’s house to watch her sleep.

I don’t remember exactly how it happened, and I’m sure wine was involved, but I ended up on fanfiction.net (if you know, you know) and…

It was glorious. I started reading Twilight fanfic, and a lot of it was…really good.

And really creative.

And in some cases, better written than a lot of actual published books.

Even if they weren’t, that’s irrelevant—the authors wrote, and they had fun, and they entertained. Which, let’s be honest, is what any writer should be doing—having fun doing what they do, and entertaining others.

These fans of the series—whether they were trying to fix something they didn’t like about the books, pay homage to what was written already, extrapolate what might happen after the series, or take the characters on their own journeys—were engaged and playing in the Twilight sandbox.

And I wanted to play, too.

For the first time in literal years, I wanted to write again. But where to start? And damn, was I rusty. So I started small, writing short stories and posting them. To my simultaneous horror and delight, people read them and commented. Readers were encouraging. The nervous knot in my stomach relaxed a tad, and I tried my hand at writing something longer, with multiple chapters, and an actual plot. I was hooked.

Most fanfic and blogging sites allow commenting and “liking” in some way, so I was able to get practically instant feedback on my work. I worked with beta readers, and readers and other writers who had more editing knowledge than I did at the time. I read my fair share of fic too, seeing what I enjoyed in a story, what was working and what wasn’t in the narrative. How other authors described things, wove a plot, captured my interest.

Was that first longer story I wrote well-written?

LOL

NO.

I’ve looked at it since, and while it’s not the worst, it’s far from the best, and certainly not the best I’ve produced. How do I know? Because, with all the writing with training wheels on, I wobbled around, fell and skinned my knees, and, eventually, got my balance, flying down that hill with the wind in my hair and bugs in my teeth.

Genre expectations, characterization, plotting, story beats, description…all of this, and more, was a real-life learning experience I couldn’t have gotten in a classroom.

But the best part was the community, the fandom. Fandoms often get side-eyed for toxic environments, but that’s the internet all over. My experiences with the community were mostly supportive and uplifting. Late-night forum chats with readers and other writers about a plot bunny that won’t leave you alone and encouragement to write it ASAP; a request for a quick beta from a reader you trust before you post something; collaborations with fandom friends who had graphic design experience to make a banner or art for your story. And the friendships, many of which I still have today.

One of the coolest things has been watching fandom friends publish “for real”. I’ve seen lists of authors—many now award-winning, or NYT bestsellers—for signings at conferences or conventions and grinned at the number of names I recognized from fandom.

What makes fic so unique? The writers are willing to take risks, chances, write something you may have never seen or read before. For example, if you’re a fan of A/B/O (Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics)—surprise! It started as a fanfic trope.

Fic writers often are great at taking the reader on an emotional rollercoaster. The kind that you can’t stop thinking about, that haunts your brain for days after you finish reading. Some fic I’ve read has stayed with me longer than many traditionally published works. And the representation—a lot of fic is populated with characters whose representation has been overall lacking in media: LGBTQIA+, characters of color, characters of different nationalities, disabilities, religions.

I still read fanfic, though and I haven’t written anything fic-wise in a long time. Perhaps it’s time to get back on that horse again, write something for fun when the creative juices aren’t flowing on my personal IRL projects. Play in another sandbox. But even if I never write another word of fanfic, it’s taught me so much about my own abilities, and what I’m capable of as a writer.

Reading fan fiction and writing it gave me the spark I needed to get back to writing, something that feeds my soul. And I hope I’m lucky enough to write something that inspires someone to write—fic or not—too.

Your favorite author may very well have gotten their start writing fanfic. Maybe they still do. So, when something “reads like fan fiction”, it’s high praise. And don’t let anybody tell you different.

I’m curious: Do you currently or have you ever read fan fiction? Written it? Drawn fan art? And what fandom(s) are you a part of?

P.S. If you want to get into reading or writing/posting fanfic, my advice is to start with Archive of Our Own (AO3). The interface is great, and the tagging system makes finding what you’re looking for much easier than the wild west sites of ye olden times.

xoxo Ryley

Enjoy getting to know Ryley? Then you’ll love her monthly VIP newsletter! Sign up for access to free books, giveaways, sales, and exclusive member extras! https://ryleybanks.com/ryleys-vip-newsletter/

Ryley Banks writes award-winning bestselling sexy romance between the covers, mostly of the LGBTQ+ variety. She’s a connoisseur of tea and gin and loves language, especially creative profanity. When she’s not begging her characters to behave or reading fan fiction, you can find Ryley at: https://ryleybanks.com/

Find Ryley’s books and follow her on Amazon and Goodreads

Stay in touch! Follow Ryley on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram

Or find all her links at: https://linktr.ee/ryleybanks

Ryley’s latest release is the bestselling fall-themed charity anthology, Falling Hard, which features her sexy gay second-chance romance, Hard Cider Crush. All proceeds go to ProLiteracy. Ryley has a few upcoming projects, so follow her on Amazon and her newsletter for updates.  https://amazon.com/author/ryleybanks
Falling Hard: https://books2read.com/u/mdDP7O

If you could have more than one hot boyfriend, why wouldn’t you?

This is a question Emilia finds herself confronting by the end of Rook’s Palace, but before that, she’s already had to go through a lot. Her adventure starts out with a house-sitting gig. The house is more of a fake castle, so that is weird, but she can roll with that. But then, a video game turns on by itself, and Emilia gets sucked into the game.

She knows there is a way to finish the virtual reality adventure: free a vampire prince from his tower prison. She also knows that to get there, she will have to, erm, lose some of the scant lace clothing the game provides her with. As Emilia advances in the game, she begins to understand that it is not really a game at all, but a prison designed to look like a magical palace.

The five monsters Emilia meets don’t just get under her very short skirt but also under her skin, and Emilia decides that she will free them all. It is easier said than done, because the creator of the game doesn’t want his prisoners to escape.

Rook’s Palace has plenty of action: the running kind, and the gasping and moaning kind. And of course, you won’t have to pick a favorite love interest—you get to have all the five monsters on offer.

Rook’s Palace (Her Five Monsters 1)

Release Date: Nov 12, 2021

Drawn into a video game, Emilia falls for five sexy monsters and wonders if the game is real after all.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3FUGn5P
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3vmvHI2
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/3aPPw0Y
Apple: https://apple.co/3G0cEZa
Changeling: https://bit.ly/3bv88nj

Emilia is excited to start a house-sitting job, even if the house is creepy and more than a little on the odd side — as odd as the owner’s requests. When she finds an unusual gaming console, she is drawn into a lusty video game in which she crosses paths with five inhuman creatures. She is drawn to them all, but when the five men keep telling her that the game is very much not what it seems, Emilia realizes she can no longer play along.

As the path she follows offers not just desire and intense experiences but also sadness, cruelty, and hurt around every bend, Emilia’s resolve firms: she will free the five men, who tell her they are already a family, already lovers. Whatever she has grown to feel for them, she cannot let them suffer if saving them is within her power.

With the rules of a game she doesn’t understand forcing her to play along, Emilia must find a way to get to the end of the game and get everyone out — whatever the cost. The freedom of her five monsters depends on her.

Excerpt from Rook’s Place…

Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

Another flash of silver washed over Emilia just as she was about to follow a hallway that curved to the left. The lightning dyed the way straight ahead in gray, and at the end of it, she saw a door. The door was closed, unlike all the other doors on the first floor, so Emilia decided to try it. After all, if Blakely wants the shutters of his game room closed, it makes sense he’d keep the door closed as well, she thought.

A few steps in and with her arms out in front of her, Emilia touched the door and felt for the knob. She turned. The door opened, its hinges soundless. The room she saw beyond was the game room indeed. Emilia searched for a light switch instinctively, even though light fell in through the windows, some of which had their shutters shifted open by the wind. Emilia could make out a billiard table, a card table, shelves with games, and a large television set. She stopped looking for a light switch when she saw that, because the TV gleamed faintly.

“What the…” Emilia walked toward the large screen. She was pretty sure that no one else was here besides her. “Mr. Blakely?” she said. Maybe he’d cancelled her services after all, although she would have expected him to send her an email at least. “Hello?” she said, louder.

Emilia looked around, and finally spotted the light panel, higher up than she’d tried. She hit the switch, and the light that filled the room left no shadows for anyone to hide within them. The TV, though, was definitely on.

“Maybe the thunderstorm got you to work?” Emilia said and walked toward it. As she did, she noticed blinking lights from the shelf underneath it. There were several gaming consoles there, new ones she was familiar with. But those weren’t the ones that blinked at her, no.

The console that had caught Emilia’s attention was an oval design, smooth silver. She touched the casing, and found that it was warm, polished metal rather than plastic, with a smaller oval display set in the middle. As soon as her fingers brushed against the console, the display lit up with words.

“Play me? Huh,” Emilia said. “You’re strange. How do I play you?” she asked. There was no controller anywhere that she could see. The other wireless ones were neatly lined up beneath their respective console, but this oddity…

The screen brightened, and the words play me blinked at Emilia.

“Right. I want to.” She turned to look around. On the table behind her, on the chairs, there was no controller in sight either, nor did her search reveal one behind the cushions. Shrugging, Emilia hit the screen on the console. She felt the slight give of a button. “Ah.”

The television set flickered to life, and a suitably eerie voice echoed to Emilia from hidden speakers.

“Welcome to the Rook’s Palace,” said a male narrator. On the screen, the camera was following a path through a thicket of trees. It wound toward a castle that rose like a waking dragon in the distance.

“Wow, this looks super HD,” Emilia said. She pulled one of the floor cushions stacked to the right of the TV toward her and sat down cross-legged.

“Brave traveler, you have chosen to walk the paths to the palace, but beware,” said the narrator. “These paths are full of the pleasures of the flesh, and none that walk them may escape the lust and desire of those who call the palace their home.

“Traveler, should you choose to continue, there is a mission you must carry out.” The screen washed out, the scene shifting from the outdoors to a room. It could have been a room right here in Blakely’s castle. As the camera did a slow turn, Emilia gasped a little as a tall, dark-haired figure came into view. At that exact moment, the man turned and looked at the camera, almost as if he’d heard Emilia’s gasp. His dark hair ran down his back, and he wore what was probably supposed to be some sort of stylized Victorian garb. The pants were tight enough to show off muscular legs, and the pressed white shirt with the silver buttons — half of which were undone — showed a broad chest and a narrow waist. The man, whose hair trailed down to the small of his back and half hid his face, looked straight at the camera. His eyes were the color of amethyst, and a wild emotion stirred in their depth for a second before the man shut it down.

“Lord Radovan, the vampire prince, has been hidden away in the palace’s highest tower. Traveler, if you dare, it is your mission to free Lord Radovan from his captivity.”

Emilia wanted to look at this strange vampire prince more. The video quality was good, uncannily so, everything looked real. It was almost like all she had to do was reach out her hand, and she’d be able to touch the amethyst-eyed vampire prince.

Emilia lifted her right hand, but before she could actually try reaching for the vampire, the camera moved. It went for a window and flew straight out, down toward a hedge maze.

“The palace grounds are full of riddles and challenges. Those who guard the path and the palace will not be assuaged by anything less than taking pleasure in your body, Traveler,” the narrator said. “They will demand you give yourself to them, and if they have no mouth or know not how to use it, they will take pleasure on you regardless, split you open and fill you with their need.”

Emilia felt like she should be taking notes for her chat room work. This was good enough to make warmth run down her spine, to make her shift a little on her floor cushion.

“Traveler, if you wish to proceed to the Rook’s Palace, you must consent now to have your body used. On the path to the Palace, your body will be your token. If you dare not, you may turn back, though you will never know what pleasures hide behind these walls. If you consent, your pleasure will end only once Lord Radovan is set free from his tower.”

The maze opened up to the path again, and the camera rushed back to the spot it had first been in, the one with trees to either side of it. Words wrote themselves across the screen.

“Traveler, do you consent?” it read. “Say yes, and proceed. Say no, and never return.”

Once more, Emilia looked for a controller. The button she’d pushed on the console had gone dark now. She looked back up at the screen…

About Alexa Piper

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them.

Connect with Alexa: https://linktr.ee/AlexaPiper

I’m finding this ridiculously difficult to believe, but it’s actually November 1st. When did that happen??

Usually, my house is overflowing with Halloween decorations right now, and I’m busily pawing through whatever candy the 75 or so trick-or-treaters left at the bottom of the cauldron, to decide what stays with me and what I’m taking into the office for my ravenous coworkers. But I just couldn’t get into Halloween this year. However, I have already watched White Christmas twice, three Christmas movies on Lifetime, and four Hallmark Christmas movies. (In October. Not kidding!) So now that October is behind us, I’ve decided to run with it. Christmas is going up early at my house this year.

November 1st also means National Novel Writing Month, otherwise affectionately known as NaNoWriMo, has begun. Ever tried to write 50,000 words in 30 days? Yeah, me neither. But if all goes well I’ll have at least that many words on the page this month. Because while book one Fire’s Rising of my debut dragon shifter series Elemental Dragons is with my editor — that is the coolest thing in the world to type — I’ve got to put the finishing touches on book two Wind’s Fury and put a serious dent in book three Storm’s Warning. And actually, I could use some help.

The hero of book three is Adrian Pence. He’s a doctor with the CDC, and he enters the story because his younger sister Haidee has mysteriously fallen ill. Their mother is also slated to make an appearance, but I don’t have a name for her yet. She’s an insecure, self-centered woman who’s about to have her world upended when she finds out her daughter is a dragon shifter.

Care to suggest some names for Adrian and Haidee’s mother? Anything goes! Comment below with your suggestions and how you came up with them. If I use your suggestion, you’ll get credit in the acknowledgments for Storm’s Warning and a free copy of the book when it’s published this coming winter. I can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Meanwhile, it’s time to load up on coffee and chocolate and log my first words for NaNoWriMo month. I, uh, may or may not also be watching White Christmas again.

Cheers,
Grace Adams

About the Author

Grace Adams is a 2017 Golden Heart® finalist and award-winning author of paranormal romance who loves nothing more than a happy ending. Whatever the genre, regardless of the medium, as long as justice prevails, the good guys win, and people are falling in love, she’s in.

A lifelong reader of science fiction, fantasy, and of course romance, Grace also enjoys painting and drawing and is an avid skier. One of those rare Geeks who loves both Star Wars AND Star Trek, she’s got a closet full of costumes she created and firmly believes that she who dies with the most fabric (and books) (and shoes) wins.

Grace has a B.S. in Mathematics from Ursinus College and an M.A. in English from Wright State University.  She is a veteran of the USAF as a communications officer and currently works as an IT Controls Analyst. She shares her home with the best super cats ever, Thor and Loki.

Who doesn’t love to romanticize the past, especially when we’re reading historical romance?  We forgot about flushing toilets, dental floss, shampoo and conditioner, and food we can buy at a store.  Well, Edie Whitecrow, my heroine from Born for This, book one in the Maizemerized series, is no different.  She’s so obsessed with her Ojibway ancestors.  So obsessed that her major in university is Indigenous studies.  Edie’s mother hoped she’d outgrow the obsession, but the older Edie becomes, the more she needs to feed her obsession.

If anyone saw a corn maze where it shouldn’t be, I think we’d all stop to check it out—especially if there is a live scarecrow beckoning us to him.  Mandaamin is the Corn Spirit of the Ojibway people, a powerful being who sacrificed himself long ago so the People could live and feed from the maize he offered.  It is he who tells Edie to enter the maze and her biggest dream will come true.

I think we all know what Edie’s biggest dream is:  to go back in time and witness her ancestors in their true environment.

I, along with three other author friends, kicked around the idea of a scarecrow and a corn maze that coincided with the spookiest night of the year—Halloween.  This is the inspiration for my latest release.  Being Ojibway, myself, and exclusively writing romance about Canada’s First People, I knew I could come up with something special that complemented my author brand.  Thus, Born for This was…born.

Today, is release day.  Yay.  And you can purchase Born for This at eXtasy Books.  While you’re there, take advantage of the sale happening until November 30, 2021.  You can purchase my backlist (excludes new releases and book bundles) at 40% off.

Born for This – Maizemerized, Book One

She’s always been obsessed with her ancestors, and now he’s offering her a chance to live with them…forever.

Second-year university student Edie Whitecrow gobbles up each course on Indigenous studies.  If only she could experience the lives of her Anishinaabe ancestors instead of reading about them.  On her way to a Halloween party decked out as a historical Ojibway maiden, she spies a corn maze in a spot known to be barren.

A scarecrow figure beckons Edie to enter with the enticing offer of making her biggest wish come true.  She jumps at the chance and finds herself in the past, face to face with the man who haunts her dreams—the handsome brave Thunder Bear.  He claims he’s spent twelve years waiting for Gitche Manidoo to send her to him.

Life in the eighteenth century isn’t what Edie romanticized about, though.  When her conscience is tested, she must choose between the modern-day or the world of her descendants—where the man she was created for resides.

Excerpt from Born for This…

One headlight, probably from a motorcycle, appeared behind her. The weather was unusually warm for the end of October, but driving a bike at this time of the year was rather brave.

Edie adjusted her rearview mirror to block out the light, although the driver used his low beam. She also slowed to let him safely pass. Maybe he was a partygoer, making his way to the Halloween bash. Or he could’ve crossed the international bridge in Rainy River, an American coming from Baudette. Or he could be a Canadian approaching from the town of Fort Frances.

The engine of the bike didn’t possess the distinct sound of a Harley Davidson, nor did the sporting and athletic roar resemble the high squeal of the Asian-made racing machines. Whatever he drove was loud enough to cut into her music.

He was by her side. She stole a quick peek out the side window at a helmeted silhouette of black.

He also turned his head.

Déjà vu was a hidden being lurking in the backseat, its claws settling on Edie’s shoulders. For a moment, her heart stood still. The haunting dream since she was but a child unfurled through her brain—a strong hand possessing long fingers stretching to reach hers, and a man’s black, narrow eyes staring through the mist.

Edie swatted the air, shooing away the crazy thought. The guy on the motorcycle was simply passing her on the highway. But his continuous attention opened up a discomforting twitch at the back of her neck.

With a tilt of his helmet, he whizzed past her. The bike slid from the left lane and into the right. He was moving so fast that his taillight quickly vanished into the night. The man had better slow down. In the fall, deer tended to pop up out of nowhere.

Edie sank further in her seat and tapped her nail on the steering wheel. He couldn’t be a partygoer. From what she’d spied, there’d been no costume draping his masculine silhouette. Or maybe he was the man hidden in the mist, stretching his hand to hers, giving her a glimpse of his long nose, thin lips, and razor-cutting cheekbones.

Get real. If Mom snuck into your thoughts, for the bazillionth time, she’d tell you to get out of your imagination and quit thinking about the old days.

She bounced her left foot in beat to the song. Maybe Mom was right. Edie’s obsession with their ancestors must stop. Fat chance of that happening because her BA major was Indigenous Studies. Plus, what was wrong about wishing for a life amongst her relations from long ago?

The corner of her eye caught the moonlight shining down on a…corn maze.

*~*~*

Want to read more?  Go ahead and purchase a copy at eXtasy Books.

About the Author

An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes.  When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most.

Links:  Web Site | Facebook Page | Twitter | Goodreads | BookBub | Linked In | Amazon Author Page | eXtasy Books Author Page | Newsletter Sign-Up

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. The traditional knight-in-shining-armor hero stands side-by-side with the heroine to face down any foe. He’ll use whatever weapons he has at hand—a clever wit, sword, gun, tire iron—to rescue the heroine and vanquish the villain. Then there is the everyday hero, the man who does what needs doing whether it’s taking out the garbage, changing a tire, or helping the single mom with her kids. Maybe it’s the corporate raider who reforms for just the right woman. There are all kinds of heroes and each of them has a place in romance literature.

I don’t know about most readers, but I can’t resist the anti-hero. An anti-hero is a central character in a story, movie, or drama who lacks conventional heroic attributes. It’s that brooding, dark male who is reluctant to help but does it anyway. In spite of his penchant for being a loner and not caring about the world, he is drawn to the heroine and into her life. He may grumble and complain, but he does it because of his own code of honor, and not because of anyone else’s idea of right and wrong.

This guy is a hero in spite of himself. He doesn’t think of himself as a hero. He doesn’t want to be a hero. Yet, somehow, it happens as he becomes more and more entangled in the heroine’s life.

I’ve written a lot of these men. What can I say? I can’t help myself. These men are fascinating to watch as they evolve. Maccus Fury might be the most complex anti-hero I’ve ever written. A fallen angel—kicked out of both Heaven and Hell—he wants nothing more than to be left alone. Now the life he’s built is in danger. Hell has sent a bounty hunter after him. All he has to do is kill her and his problems are over.

If only it was that simple.

Fury Unleashed
Forgotten Brotherhood, Book 1

Maccus Fury, a fallen angel, is trying hard to keep his sanity. Seems being an assassin might be catching up with him. Now, Heaven, or Hell, has sent a beautiful assassin to kill him. Lovely. She’s pretending to seduce him, and he’s okay with that. She’s smart and snarky—but she has no idea what she’s walked into. And he’s more than peeved that they only sent one person. They’re going to need an army if they want him dead.

Morrigan Quill is one of Hell’s bounty hunters. She sold her soul to keep her sister safe, and now she’s working off her contract by catching bad guys and dragging them back to hell. When Lucifer makes her a new offer––that’s definitely too good to be true—she can’t say no. All she has to do is kill a powerful and crazy-hot fallen angel, who will totally kick her ass in battle.

Good thing he won’t see what’s coming next.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084M1NQ88
Entangled Publishing: https://entangledpublishing.com/fury-unleashed.html
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/fury-unleashed-n-j-walters/1136398720
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/fury-unleashed-1
iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/fury-unleashed/id1498471438

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit me at:
Website: http://www.njwalters.com
Blog: http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
Newsletter Sign Up: http://eepurl.com/gdblg5
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/njwaltersauthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters