Archive for the ‘Guest Blogging’ Category

Guest Blog: Megan Mitcham

1) Hi and welcome to my blog. Please tell readers what this anthology is about and where they can buy this fabulous collection of sexy stories.

Thank you Selena for having me and my hunky hero on your blog today!

High Octane Heroes: Erotic Romance for Women explores the everyday hero and the women brave enough to love them; military men, policemen, and paramedics.

A high octane hero is in a class all his own. He’s not sitting behind a desk calling people to handle a situation. He’s out there getting things done. Daunting though his tasks may be, iron will bolsters his spine and determination knits his brow. His lean muscles and sharp intellect ensure each mission’s success. Bars and badges on his chest. Honor in his heart.

High Octane Heroes: Erotic Romance for Women can be found on – Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Books-a-Million | Cleis Press | Powell’s |

2) Please tell us your hero’s name and his occupation.

Detroit Special Response Team Captain, Donovan Wolfe. Former Special Forces – Army Ranger.

3) Let’s get to know your hero. What would say is your hero’s worst habit? His best?

Donovan’s best personality trait is sometimes his worst. Stubborn to the core, nothing he sets his sights on will evade his grasp.

4) How difficult were your hero and heroine to work with? Did you get frustrated with them at times while writing the story?

Though their chemistry is down right combustable, lighting up each page of the story, Paige and Donovan were delightfully easy to work with. Both had decisive personalities and knew exactly how their story should be told.

5) Questions 5-8 are for Donovan. How would he complete the following sentence? I can’t start the morning without _____.

…a shower. I’m not getting soft. Just enjoying the perks of civilian life. After a decade sleeping in desert dirt, washing off with wet wipes or a bucket of water, I’ve earned it.

6) What are three things he looks for in a lover?

Honesty. Confidence. Bravery.

7) Tell us one naughty secret that Paige may not know about you, yet. (And yes I’m trying to encourage sequel plot bunnies).

She’s going to kill me. For real this time. You might not consider this naughty, but Paige will. For sure. The bag of crap ex-husband of hers saw to it. But I’m ready to…you know, settle down. Wouldn’t have the first clue what to do with a kid, but I’d love it. Protect it. Gosh, Paige with sweet belly. You really are trying to get me killed. You know she’s a cop, and has excellent aim, even with a moving target. I’m shutting up now. No more questions.

8) When I say whipped cream, handcuffs and chocolate what does you think of?

The time a nut took his girlfriend and several customers hostage in an ice cream shop. Just add a little blood to the list. His. Not the hostages’.

9) What would you say is your hero’s biggest fear?

Pushing Paige too hard or too fast, and loosing her.

10) Okay, last question. You hero has a day off, how does he spend it?

Practicing making number seven a reality.

11) Okay, this is the last question. Where can we find you on the internet?

You can find me, Megan Mitcham on – Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook
HighOctaneHeroesExcerpt from Heated Negotiations:

       Paige clutched a fistful of Abercrombie-style button down and pivoted. The college boy, who smelled of cheep whiskey, completed his decent head first to the concrete without taking her along for the ride. Bobbing around his friends, who all looked as cute and as wasted, she continued winding through the crowd. While most around her craned their necks toward the sky mouths agape at the colorful spectacle of friendly little bombs, she kept her target in view. The Fourth of July crush of one million warm Detroit bodies wasn’t enough to deter her lust for vengeance. It had been twenty-four hours since she’d been royally screwed and reaped no pleasure from the experience. Tonight she would get a release.

       The security guard working the door of the City-County Building nodded at Paige’s badge and she rushed through the lobby. Up the elevator and down a corridor of cubicle sized offices, Paige saw the door labeled “Roof Access” in the distance. After two ground eating strides in its direction the door swung wide with a metal smack and two Special Response Team members in full tact gear walked into the hallway.     

       At the sight of the blacked-out commandos, their faces obscured by balaclavas and bodies loaded with Kevlar and weaponry, adrenalin shot through her veins like a bullet from a gun. All thoughts of fatigue, from lack of sleep over the past forty-eight hours or the hour-and-a-half it took warring the crowd to get here, vanished. Shoulders back and chin up she stopped directly in front of the two men. 

       “Donovan Wolfe?”

       Two sets of eyes before her went wide followed by head shaking. The tallest of the two hitched a thumb toward the access door. Paige inclined her head, a small gesture of thanks, and pushed past them. 

       One of the men, no way to know which since she wasn’t looking, cleared his throat. “Sergeant Cline, should we call an ambulance?”

       The corners of her mouth turned up when she replied. “No. Call the medical examiner.”

High Octane Heroes Blurb:

Heroes inspire lustful fascination. Worthy of High Octane Hero status, kickass iconic heroes enter danger zones in the name of duty, honor, country, and even love. These rugged men conjure images of hard, chiseled bodies, laser-sharp gazes and stark, camouflaged features.

Get ready for high-octane, smoldering-hot adventures, featuring these “super alpha” heroes and the strong women who wage heated battles for their hearts. In “Besieged,” a special forces soldier rescues his lover from an embassy takeover. In “The Star,” an American Air Force pilot and a grieving British woman find solace in each other’s arms. A sexy SWAT team leader saves a rookie during a bungled undercover assignment in “Renegade.” And get ready for an undercover cop who flexes more than his “Big Guns.” Set in war-torn regions of the world and in your own neighborhoods, High Octane Heroes delivers passion, danger and heart.


They say turn about is fair play. So, I have a question for all you blog readers. Answer it and you’ll be entered into a drawing for your very own high octane heroes hunky calendar! Who do you think will come out ‘on top,’ Paige or Donovan?

Author Bio:

MM_027bwMegan was born and raised among the live oaks and shrimp boats of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where her enormous family still calls home. She attended college at the University of Southern Mississippi where she received a bachelor’s degree in curriculum, instruction, and special education. For several years Megan worked as a teacher in Mississippi. She married and moved to South Carolina and began working for an international non-profit organization as an instructor and co-director.

It wasn’t until nearly a year after her son was born that Megan fell in love with books. Until then, books had been a source for research or the topic of tests. But one morning while her son was taking one of his several naps, at the time, she picked up the book Mercy by Julie Garwood that her neighbor had dropped by the day before. During the time her son napped that day she finished the book. And Oh Mercy, she was hooked!

Megan currently lives in Southern Arkansas where she is completing a romantic thriller novel series and building a career as an author.



Guest Blogger- Natalie Acres

A brand new wolf-shifter series debuts today from Siren-Bookstrand and Natalie Acres


Dominant Wolves, Submissive Mates-Book One

Historical~BDSM~ Paranormal~ Ménage a Trois Romance~Werewolves

Spanking~ wax play~sex toys from a bygone era~bondage


Visit Natalie Acres at Siren Bookstrand:



Two pack masters discover an unyielding love in one woman by altering customs and forming new traditions destined to change the Wyoming Territory forever. Imprinting upon and sharing a lover, the Alphas realize their packs must join together, but they will face great opposition when their chosen mate is confronted with a wrenching decision.

Pack masters Frank Smith and Jock Corrigan aren’t enemies, but they aren’t exactly friends. Still, their similar fates have been altered by an unusual union they cannot deny. Their relationship with Carla Cassidy forces several wolves to make their independent choices. One will stand with the newly formed pack, but another will fall victim to his own selfish needs and motives. A group of new shifters will emerge and change the course of history, but not before the expanding pack’s goals are tested and tried.




“What are you doing here?” Carla asked, propping her tiny clenched fists on her hips.

“Far be it for you to show a little appreciation,” Jock said, studying the spitfire of a woman before them. Wearing a light blue prairie dress, Carla apparently hadn’t stopped to check out the torn fabric and soiled material.

“You were attacked by a pack of wolves. I arrived in time to run them off.” Jock stood a tad taller with his announcement. Most women appreciated heroic efforts.

She paled then as he spoke. She looked down at the evidence of a ruined dress and her hands twitched.

“How did this happen?” Carla asked, suggesting her memory had failed her.

“You must’ve had a nasty bump on the head if you don’t remember,” Grant told her.

She held the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Everything is a bit foggy.”

“Well, don’t you fret none, Carla. We took care of ya.” Grant shot Jock a quick glance. “Yep, siree. Me and Jock here handled everything.”

Jock was beginning to think whenever there was a “yep, siree,” added to Grant’s speech it was nothing more than a bald-faced tale.

“Do you remember going to the barn?” Jock asked.

Carla took a minute before she answered. As if she suddenly recalled something of interest, her cheeks turned pink and she said, “I may have already been in the barn.”

Grant shot her a wink and a lopsided nod. “That was my best estimation, too.”

“Dear God,” Jock grumbled, beginning to believe Grant must’ve considered himself the most intelligent man in the West.

“Here’s how I figure things went down. Those wolves heard a lot of activity, maybe even some squealin’ and carryin’ on comin’ from the barn…” He paused and arched a brow. “How am I doin’ so far?”

Carla stared at him with this perplexed look which made Jock wonder all the more. Had Grant really watched Carla in action with these wicked props he’d mentioned?

“That’s all right, sweetness. Don’t worry ’bout a reply. I can make heads and tails out of this. Anyhow, you were in the barn doin’ whatever it is that you do out there–in the loft–and well, what I came up with after a-prowlin’ around is that you were makin’ a little too much noise.” He stood taller and his lips spread into a mischievous smile. Leaning against Jock, he added a whisper, “How’d I do? Did ya like that?”

Jock studied the pretty lady. “Carla? How close was Grant’s guess?”

“What sort of squealing?” Carla arched a brow and watched them through suspicious eyes.

Grant shrugged. “That voice of yours is as fine as cream gravy when you go to hollerin’ and such.”

“Grant,” Jock muttered, giving his buddy a one-word warning he would inevitably ignore.

Copping a strut, Grant approached the porch, working what little swagger he possessed. “Come on, Carla. You know what I mean. You can’t kick up a row and expect no one to hear ya. I ain’t been a man for all these years for nothin’. I can spot an experienced woman.” He cupped his ear, slung his arm off to the left, and quickly added, “And I can hear one from way over yonder.”

Before Jock had a chance to smooth things over, a disgusted gasp fell from Carla’s mouth. “Well I’ve never in my life.”

“Me neither,” Grant admitted. “But after what I’ve witnessed, I’d be the first man to say you are a soiled dove to the manner born. And I’d be the first to mention yer geared up to teach even an experienced fella a thing or two.”

Carla’s eyes filled with tears. Before Jock saw the slap coming, she opened her hand and her palm connected with Grant’s cheek.

“I don’t know who you think you are, Grant Ford, but if you’re trying to make a mash on me, I can promise you, I’m not impressed!”

Grant stared back at her with wide eyes. “Surely to God you ain’t offended.”

“I am indeed!”

And of course after that, Miss Carla Cassidy did what Jock suspected she might. She walked inside, slammed the door in their faces, and never so much as bothered to say good-bye.

“Happy now?” Jock asked, without blinking an eye.

“I like ’em a little hot under the collar. Trust me, friend. I know what I’m doin’. Let’s go for a run. When we get back, she’ll be fit to be tied–and I mean that in the literal sense.”

Jock couldn’t help but think about Grant’s earlier words. One of these days, Carla would open the door and greet her husband. Considering what had transpired, Jock had a feeling she’d slam that door just as quickly if she thought her potential suitor was named Grant Ford.


Copyright ©2013 Natalie Acres

Visit Natalie Acres at Siren Bookstrand for an adult M/F/M excerpt:

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The power of a great friend…

The power of a great friend…
By Milly Taiden

A looong time back I went on a chat page with other authors. When I read this silly, quirky funny woman’s comments I had to talk to her. I felt immediate kinship for her. She sounded just like me. Just like I think and it was fascinating. I looked up one of her books and read it. I was hooked. She had the most awesome sense of humor, sarcasm and could write a man like a real man! I was in complete girl-crush lol. When we started emailing, I told her I write and I wanted to get my work published. This amazing woman, with a super heavy schedule of writing, cover art and a family, asked me to send her my stuff. She read one of my stories and, even though it needed so much work any editor would quit on the spot, encouraged me. She gave me tips, suggestions and ideas on how to improve, fix, change and make the story better. Then she did it again and again. She even went as far as telling me places to submit my work. Guided me through the process and continues to make time for me every day! That’s why I love her. She’s an amazing woman, an incredible cover artist, unbelievable writer, perfect mom and wife, and the best friend anyone could ask for. So I just want to take this moment to say THANK YOU to her – Ms. Mina Carter. And if you haven’t read one of her books, you are sorely missing out!

Sharp Change OUT NOW!


Only the hottest sex can cool a wolf in heat…

After her sister is bitten by a werewolf, geneticist Sophia Reece begins researching shape-shifters and isolates a gene she calls Furry Beast—FB for short. But in her excitement over her discovery—dancing in the lab is never a good idea—she has a teeny little accident with the samples, one canine, one feline, and winds up landing on the syringes, pointy side up.

Werewolf Chase is head over heels in lust with Sophia. He can’t stop thinking about the human’s sexy body or how badly he wants to get her naked. But she acts as if he has fleas. So why, all of a sudden, does she stare at him like a wolf in heat? And what smells like cat?

When she experiences her first mating heat, Sophia isn’t prepared for the new feelings she’s experiencing, and her secret desire for Chase refuses to remain under wraps. For Chase, this is his wildest fantasy come true—to finally get his hands on the curvy, caramel-skinned Latina. But when some serious predators come sniffing around her research, Sophia will have to find out what she’s really made of, and Chase will have to decide if he’s man—or wolf—enough to make things permanent…

Amazon buy link

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B&N buy link

Author Bio:
Milly Taiden was born in the prettiest part of the Caribbean known as the Dominican Republic. She grew up between New York, Florida and Massachusetts. Currently, she resides in New York City with her husband, bossy young son and their little dog Speedy.
She began writing when she learned to put words together and her first book consisted of two homeless dogs living in a park for her second grade English class. She didn’t win a prize, but she acquired a love for writing that never went away.
When she’s not working full-time, texting with her best friend Heidi in England, chastising her son for pulling the dog’s ears, shopping with her sister Jewel or watching scary movies with her husband, she can be found writing on her laptop. She’s addicted to shoes, chocolate, Dunkin Donuts coffee and all Jimmy Thomas covers.
A major reader when she can get her hands on a good book, she loves reading all Mina Carter, Cynthia Eden, Cynthia Sax, Dianne Duvall and Laurann Dohner among others.

My Contacts:


Facebook page:

Twitter: @millytaiden

Heroes, Villains and In-Between-Tilly Greene

Grey is a Good Starting Place

He’s your knight in shining armor, handsome, wonderful, and there to do whatever it takes to help you out of a horrifying experience. Then, once you’re free, he’ll take you away for a happy ever after life together. Or he’s bad, gorgeous, and with evil on his mind. He’s there to kill you and your family, ending all thoughts of living a long and happy life.


Black or white, hero or villain, that’s the way it has to be, right?


No, it doesn’t, in fact those existing in the grey area end up following an interesting path to their end.


In Linda Howard’s “All The Queen’s Men”, the bad guy – Louis Ronsard – is selling a highly explosive material to the highest bidder. No question, that makes him beyond bad, right? What if I told you he was doing it to make money to help save his seriously ill young daughter? When the heroine, Niema, asks if that’s the reason he became an arms dealer, he says:


“Yes, I had to have enormous sums of money and quickly. The choice was drugs or weapons. I chose weapons.”


Not so cut and dry anymore, is it, at least Niema doesn’t think so.


There’s another type of neither good nor bad character and that would be the one who made a big, huge, ugly mistake. You know who they are, maybe they were the town toughie growing up or stole a car as a teen, and those are the ones in need of a second chance. Personally, as a writer, I like working with this type of figure. Perfection sounds lovely, but flaws can also be fabulous.


April 15th “Tied Up For Love”, from the Mythological Messes Redux series, will be released and it is the epitome of grey being a good place to start again. Marsyas, the hero, didn’t kill anyone, but he did insult a God and must therefore die. Before the sentence is handed down, he leaves to prepare himself mentally for the end of his life and people. As he comes to terms with the consequences of his actions, he finds himself falling in love, and is ashamed to share who he really is and disappoint his lover.


“I was stupid to throw down the challenge and once it was accepted, should have held back, flubbed a bit, but I was lost in the moment. It isn’t in me not to give my all.”


There is no place for the ipotane to go but toward being a hero or death. For Marsyas, the place in between being good and bad is where he needs to be in order to get a second chance.


A character who is either black or white, good or bad, are great to write and read. However, when it comes to romances, there’s definitely a place for heroes, villains, and those caught in between – in the grey area.


Tilly Greene
WARNING! Red hot romances ahead!


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Tilly Greene Mythological Messes Redux Series
Hephaestus Lays Down the Law – paranormal erotic romance w/bondage
Together Again? – paranormal erotic romance
Cyra’s Cyclopes – paranormal erotic romance w/ménage
Double Punch – paranormal erotic romance w/ménage a trios
Tied Up For Love – paranormal erotica romance w/bondage – April 15 2011!

Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Joey W. Hill

A Different Kind of Dom by Joey W. Hill

Years ago, when I started the Knights of the Board Room series, I was driven by a basic theme. Five men, all top executives in a successful manufacturing/acquisitions company. All five sexual Dominants. Each book focused on one man finding his soulmate, the submissive he wanted to claim as his forever. And in each story, the other four men were willing to use a variety of combined sensual talents to help him win her over – body, heart, mind and soul.

Four of these men are very out front alpha types – Matt, Lucas, Peter and Ben. But Jon was the one who brought them all together. A deeply spiritual man who draws strength from the philosophies that underpin yoga and martial arts practices, he’d recognized their common code of conduct, both in the bedroom and the boardroom. When I wrote Matt, Lucas and Peter’s stories, Jon was a quiet force in their books, but somewhat overshadowed by the personalities of the others. If I now had the pleasure of sitting down with the other men to confess that impression (after I got over being tongue-tied and stammering) they’d probably exchange an amused, understanding look and then Matt would say, “People tend to underestimate Jon. And he’s the strongest of all of us.” After writing his story, I now agree. As the story unfolded, Jon surprised me, on so many levels. Though he was a different type of Dom, the underlying nature of a Dominant that appeals to a submissive personality was there in full force. Today, if I had to choose among all five of them (and mind you, I wouldn’t turn any of them away – lol), he’d be the one I’d choose for myself.

The reviewer for Whipped Cream blogspot noted: “I have a feeling that anyone would submit to Jon. The author did a great job displaying his strength without making him harsh. As a reader I found myself wanting to do whatever he demanded along with Rachel; that is how much power he wields. His character had me asking myself if men like him really exist and if so where can they be found? …This story has a strong yoga/tantric/Buddhism element to it. This helped to demonstrate why Jon was so comfortable with who he is and how he lived his life.”

To give you a more concrete example of what kind of hero Jon is, I chose a couple snippets from the book I thought you’d like. The following one comes at a point in the story when, in a desperate attempt to deal with her desires and escape her feelings for Jon, Rachel (who is a yoga instructor and physical therapist) goes to the wrong kind of club. This is a couple days’ afterward, when Jon comes to her apartment and confronts her about it. They’re sitting on her bed.
* * * * *
He put a hand on her face, the uninjured side. “Rachel, why did you do this?”

When he was little, her son had taken martial arts training. For some reason, at Jon’s direct look, the firmness in the hand on her cheek, Rachel remembered one of Kyle’s instructors. He’d been gentle, careful, intelligent. Yet when he helped the boys spar, there was a concentration in his gaze that suggested it was best not to underestimate the power of a gentle, focused man.

She closed her eyes. “Jon, we can’t have this conversation. I can’t have this conversation. It was stupid and pointless. That part of my life was over a long time ago. I’d accepted it. It was just…”

“I started something with you I didn’t finish, and left you nowhere else to go.”

“No.” She opened her eyes immediately. “This was my stupid decision, Jon. You weren’t responsible. I appreciate you coming by to check on me, but…”

It was as if he were weighing the significance of every word that came from her mouth, noting every minute change in her expression, the uncomfortable shift of her body. Since he was sitting on her bed, his hip brushing her thigh, he now slid his hand from her cheek to her shoulder, his thumb resting on her collarbone. It effectively stopped her babbling. She couldn’t seem to continue, to tell him she was fine, that he needed to leave.

“Breathe,” he said. “Like when you start your yoga class. Three count. And keep your eyes on mine.”

His thumb shifted so it was on the pulse in her throat, making short strokes there as she drew in a breath. She felt foolish, but she took that deep breath, drew it in for a count of three, even as she remained conscious of those two points of contact, his hand on her throat, his hip against her leg. When she let it out, emotion welled up in her chest, making it tighter. She got the second breath out, and it got worse, such that more tears spilled forth.

“I don’t want you to see this.” Her voice broke. “I can’t—”

“One more,” he said, not unkindly, though his hold on her throat increased, underscoring the relentless command.

It was a shudder of sobs, more than an indrawn breath, and as it crested, they broke. She’d cried a lot over the past day and a half, but this was different. This was the way a person cried when someone was there to hear, to help. Pulling her into his arms, he turned them so they were stretched out on the bed together, one of her arms wrapped around his back and the other around his neck, her face buried into his chest. He stroked her, crooned to her as she shook and cried, until she’d cried out the fear and shame, and was left limp with exhaustion.
* * * * *
Though the man captivates with his ability to slide inside a woman’s soul, he’s also fire engine hot (an added perk!). I’ve provided the gorgeous cover above, but on the Joey W. Hill fan forum, Katishka Taylor, one of our wonderful moderators and graphic artists for the site, designed a beautiful banner inspired by her impression of Jon. I provide it here for your additional viewing pleasure.

Now, in case I gave you the impression Jon was too gentle, let me leave you with another side of him –

She turned then, faced him, and it was so hard, for so many reasons, to meet that steady gaze. “I can’t have what you’re offering, Jon. You’re too young, too late and I’m too fragile. It took me too long to pull myself back off the cliff edge, and…” Her voice trembled once more. Closing her eyes, she steadied herself, spoke the desolate truth to that black space. “I won’t survive going there again.”

“I’m not offering anything.”

He moved then, closing the space between them. She wanted to shrink back against the glass, but managed to keep herself still. He had such a smooth way of moving, gathering an energy around him that would always turn a woman’s head. Her gaze latched onto the tie. His tie tack was a Japanese kanji symbol, one she recognized, because it was on a tapestry in her yoga studio. Perseverance.

Her palms tingled, wanting to reach out, touch it, flatten against his chest, feel his heat and heartbeat. When he laid his hands on her tense shoulders, she had another brief spurt of panic, but before she could wrench away, he’d pushed her against that panel of glass. It had absorbed a considerable amount of the sun’s heat, such that it burned through the fabric of her bolero and the thin blouse beneath.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

“No.” The resolve beneath the deceptive mildness was terrifying to her. Gentle, thoughtful Jon, so interested in the philosophy and spirituality behind yoga, yet he also understood the strength of it as well. A mountain could be placid, but it didn’t make it less immovable, less capable of demonstrations of utter power. However, while he could easily overcome her physically, he didn’t need that. His voice and manner alone arrested her.

“The instruction I left you this morning wasn’t an offer, a suggestion or a proposal, Rachel. It was a command. I’m not going to give you a choice. Not right now. Because you’ve been given far too many. That isn’t what you need, is it?”

The ache low in her belly was becoming that spinning wheel she knew too well, a wheel with blades that were going to cut her insides to pieces. “Please…don’t.”

“Keep your eyes down, Rachel. You’ll meet my gaze when I give you permission. You understand?” The implacable tone shut that wheel down, made her knees weak. He leaned in, until his lips were at her temple, trailing down her skin in a highly distracting way until he reached her ear. “Tell me you understand.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she realized she’d latched onto his shirt at the waist, digging her fingers into the cloth as an anchor. A hard shudder ran through her body.

“Ssshh, girl. At the end of the third class I took with you, you told me you saw an old soul in my eyes. We talked about how we both believe in reincarnation, the idea that the physical body isn’t the sum total of a human being. You remember?”

She nodded. He tightened his grip. “Well, when I look in your eyes, I see a young soul, one who had her wings clipped too soon. She doesn’t realize they’ve grown back, that she can spread them out and fly, finally realize the potential that’s been there all along.”


Shifting, he closed his hand over one of hers at his waist. When he detached her fingers, he gave them a quick squeeze and then turned, taking her across the room to the drafting table, the stool there. He slid a hip onto it, then perused her with that lingering, appraising look. “Take off the shoes.”

He’d tolerate no disobedience, no discussion. She didn’t know what that would mean if she resisted, but her pulse thudded hard against her throat. Her shoes. If that was all he was asking, she could do that, right? And truth, they were pinching her feet. As she slid out of them, giving up the two-inch height they’d offered, she immediately realized why slaves were made to go barefoot. There was a distinct difference in status, looking down at her feet clad only in thin stockings, positioned between his polished dress shoes. Her toes curled into the deep carpet.

“Now the hair. Take it down and hand me the pins.”
* * * * *
I hope you’ve enjoyed this view of one of my heroes. You can read further excerpts and blurbs about the whole series on my home page, (direct link You can also visit the JWH fan forum, where you’ll find further graphics of the Knights, character interviews with them and more (instructions on how to access the site, click here). In the coming months, I’ll be posting free vignettes there about Ben, my final Knight, to whet your appetite for his story. (Coming later in 2011 if all goes well!)

Thanks for letting me join in the fun with Heroes, Villains and In-Between. Best wishes to everyone.  :mrgreen:

Coming July 5th, 2011 to Berkley Heat


Bio: Joey W. Hill is the author of over twenty-five award-winning titles of paranormal and contemporary erotic romance, most of them of the BDSM genre. She is a two-time nominee for the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Erotica. She writes vampires for Berkley Heat, mermaids and angels for Berkley Sensation and contemporaries (as well as a smattering of anything-goes paranormal) for Ellora’s Cave Publishing, so you have your pick of a wide range of heroes!

Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Cat Marsters

Cat Marsters—The Original Sinner: Striker

When I first wrote Striker he was going to be a villain, plain and simple. He had one function: to tempt my heroine, Chalia, away from the man she loved. Striker had varous magical powers and he wasn’t above using them to get what he wanted. When he got angry he’d explode things. Like buildings. People. Cities.

I kinda liked him.

And that was the problem. I wanted him to be the bad guy. I even tried to kill him off. But I couldn’t do it. Well, I did, but no one stays dead for long in my books. At the last count, Striker had been declared legally dead three times. He’s still walking around.

But herein lies the rub. I can’t make him a romantic hero. He kills people for fun. He once cut someone in half, vertically, with a sword made out of fire. Got angry and flattened an entire city. He explodes pickpockets. Kills people for looking at him a bit funny. He’s a psychopath. A proper unhinged nutter. He’s a villain. So why do I like him? Why does everyone else?

Well, he’s hot for one thing. A giant walking pheromone. But we’re not that shallow, are we? He’s funny, for sure—he has a very nice line in sarcasm. He can do anything. I mean quite literally, anything. Travel through time (what, like it’s hard?). Kill immortal beings. Being people back to life. Make it snow, just because Chalia says she likes it.

Is that it? Do we like him because he loves his woman? He’ll quite literally do anything for her, up to and including mass homicide (she’s never asked, but he’s waiting for the opportunity). Making it snow is nothing: when she died he brought her back to life. When she decided she wanted a baby, despite the gods attempting to keep him from procreating by making it physically impossible for the only woman he loved to carry a child (okay, so he can’t do everything—cut the guy a break, he’s a homicidal maniac, not a fertility expert) he travelled in time to change the course of history and befuddled the gods out of noticing until the baby was born.

Or do we feel sympathy for the devil? Striker was, after all, once an ordinary person. A very good-looking, smart, rich, and mischeivous person, but with no more inclination to mass murder than you or me. And then a random accident got him stranded in an alien world for twelve years, all alone and with just a few magical powers lent to him in order to survive. Telling himself every day he’d get back to the woman he’d left behind. Thinking of the one and only night they spent together. Pickling in his own madness. By the time he returned he was lean and hard and strange and cold, and he might still have turned into something resembling a human being were it not for the fact that his One True Love had buggered off and got engaged to someone else, and told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him out of her life.

So he flattened a city. As you do.

The thing is, he does love Chalia, but that’s about his only redeeming feature. And it’s not much of one. He loves her selfishly, like a child loves. He doesn’t want to share her. It’s kind of hard to figure out whether he really loves his daughter or not—even I’m not entirely sure if he does, or if he just takes care of her because Chalia wants him to. I wrote about Striker’s relationship with his daughter, Chance, in my first Ellora’s Cave book, Almost Human. She doesn’t know what to make of it, and neither does he.

She knows her father is the most evil man in history. That’s going to give a girl quite a complex.

Excerpt from Mad, Bad & Dangerous, available now ffrom Ellora’s Cave.

Was this how Striker had become so terrible, so powerful and so dangerous? Was this why he’d rampaged through Euskara twenty years ago, murdering Magi and stealing their power, flattening cities, roasting people alive—just to mirror his own pain?
What the hell could have hurt such an inhuman man so badly?
He found himself on the ground, back in his human body, staring at the scryer in his palm. It glowed red then the face resolved into Striker’s visage.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked.
The same shock of fear and disgust ran through Bael, but far less powerfully than it had before. “Why did you do it?” he asked.
“Do what? Who are you?”
“Kett’s— I’m…a friend of Kett’s,” Bael said through the bad taste in his mouth.
“Oh yeah.” Striker’s mouth twisted cruelly. “You ran away.”
“You murdered hundreds of my people.”
Striker shrugged, as if he couldn’t see what the two things had to do with each other.
“Why did you do it? You flattened the city of Vaticano twenty years ago. You stole power and tortured innocent people. Why did you do it?”
Striker shrugged again. “What are you, a groupie? I did it ’cos I wanted to, kid. I enjoyed it. I’d do it again—”
“No, you bloody wouldn’t,” came a female voice, the voice of the brunette at Nuala’s house. Chalia. Chance’s mother…
Understanding stabbed Bael in the heart.
“You did it for her,” he said slowly. “Because she hurt you.” With every word he became more certain, the knowledge creeping into him like fog.
Striker’s face turned to granite.
“Because she did something to you,” Bael went on. “Because she hurt you so badly it screamed inside you, and all you wanted to do was make everyone else feel as much pain as you. To hurt and maim and burn and slash and kill, because that’s what she did to you. And she never stopped you. She stops you now but she didn’t then. And you went on sucking power out of people so you could destroy more and more, bigger and bigger, until you’d destroyed a city and killed thousands—”
A jolt of power suddenly surged through the scryer, like the shock from ungrounded metal, making Bael flinch and lose his thread.
The view on his scryer tilted, as if someone else had taken hold of the device, and Chalia’s face appeared, pale and shocked.
“It was you,” Bael said, and her lovely dark eyes swam with fear and guilt and pain.
“What did you do?” Bael asked her.
Her hand went to her throat, lovely and unlined even twenty years after Striker had burned and destroyed cities in her name.
“I got engaged to someone else,” she said distantly. “Who are you?”
“Baelvar.” The world had narrowed to the scryer in his hand and the anger pulsing through him.
Chalia regarded him through the scryer. “You’re Kett’s mate, yes? The Nasc. With power.”
Bael clenched his fist and looked away.
Striker laughed softly. “What did she do?”
“Someone else,” Bael said.


Cat Marsters lives in Essex and belongs to a pride of adored cats. On occasion she can be persuaded to admit ownership of a demon puppy (but not if you suspect your flowers have been trampled). She enjoys watching TV and films that showcase the looks and talents of Richard Armitage, David Tennant and Hugh Jackman, reading books that make her laugh, dyeing her hair, and talking about herself in the third person.
Cat has been writing all her life, but in order to keep herself rich in shoes and chocolate, she’s also worked as an airline check-in agent, video rental clerk, stationery shop assistant, and laboratory technician. She’s still aiming for the fairytale cottage of her childhood dreams, and asks all potential Prince Charmings to apply in writing with pictures of themselves and their Aston Martins.

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Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Kate Johnson

Don’t Call Me A Hero: Major Harker.
by Kate Johnson

He doesn’t really like being called a hero. He doesn’t really reckon he’s done anything heroic. He’s just done his job. It’s never occurred to him not to.

For Harker, being a soldier is about one thing only: looking after your mates. And as he’s been promoted, his mates have become his lads, they’re in his care, he’s their leader. But he’s still looking after them. To Harker, success isn’t measured by how many yards of land you’ve won from the enemy that day, it’s in counting heads and getting the same number as you did before you started fighting.

All right, he has bigger concerns than that. He belongs to his country, body and soul. He’ll do anything the general tells him to, because she’s his general and he’s a major and that’s just how it works. Questioning orders is like questioning why a bullet comes out of the gun when you pull the trigger. And because he respects the general, most of the time he’ll do what she asks, even when it’s not an order. Most of the time.

He didn’t join the army in search of glory. Of course, at the time there wasn’t a war on. At the time, the army offered the best prospects for a working-class lad with no education and an ageing mother to support. Twenty-five years’ service and you get a decent pension. Retire as a sergeant, that’s a very good pension indeed. Enough to find a nice little place, maybe raise a family. He can send his pay home and not worry that his mother isn’t being cared for. Or course she didn’t really want him to join the army, she wanted him to go to the grammar school and become a teacher. In his heart of hearts, that’s what Harker wanted, too. But you can’t always get what you want. He knows that pretty well.

The army breaks some men and makes others. Harker was one of the latter. He’s a natural leader. That promotion to sergeant came quickly and deservedly. He’s still not sure if his ex-wife was behind his commission as an officer, but the role suits him. More men to look after, sure, but he’s got a natural authority, he takes care of his men and he listens to them. They know he’s got their best interests at heart. They know he won’t ask them to do anything he wouldn’t do himself. They know he’d actually do the dangerous stuff for them if he thought he could spare them the pain.

He’s got about as much in common with a traditional leading man as he has with a teapot. He’s not good-looking, he hasn’t cut his hair in years, and he’ll only shave if someone threatens him with a knife. He doesn’t have sexy and exciting scars, he has ugly patches of scar tissue where people have tried, repeatedly, to kill him. He has no idea how many confirmed kills he has to his name. Only a bastard would count. He can use a sword or a gun or he can fight with his bare hands, and if you offered him a fencing foil he’d punch you in the face. He doesn’t see the point of wearing a suit or having special shoes to go with it. Hates his dress uniform with all its shiny braid. He refuses to refine his accent, especially when there are posh people around to annoy. He’ll hold the door open for you whether you’re male or female, soldier or civilian, but you won’t get called Sir or Ma’am unless you happen to be of a higher rank than him. Or he’s patronising you. He spends most of his pay on importing cigarettes, which he smokes when he’s thinking, or when he’s worried, or frustrated, or stressed. Which is most of the time.

He leads like a wolf alpha leads: unself-consciously, without arrogance, and without vanity. He leads with natural authority and the respect of his men. He’ll go to hell and back for someone he considers to be his.

He’s Major William Harker of the 75th of Foot, and he’s at your service.

Excerpt from The Untied Kingdom, available from Choc Lit 1st April 2011

‘Sir! Sir, are you all right?’
That was Tallulah. Grimly, Harker dropped to the stony shore under the Tower’s walls and let the body over his shoulder flop on the pebbles.
‘I’m all right,’ he said. ‘Get a doctor, would you?’
She peered closer at the limp body. ‘Is it – is it a person? Is it alive?’
Harker, busy performing mouth-to-mouth and trying not to think about what the drowned woman would be coughing up if she was still alive, didn’t bother to answer. In the background, people were shouting. The guards on the walls had seen him dive into the river and come out with some sort of bedraggled alien.
Well, it wasn’t an alien, Harker was pretty sure. It was a human woman, and she – yes, there she went, coughing up river water through blue lips.

He rolled on to his back and fought the urge to throw up. Who knew what he’d ingested in the Thames’ foetid depths?
People were streaming out of the South Gate now, and a guy with a stethoscope flung over his pyjamas was kneeling by the unconscious woman.
‘She all right?’ Harker said, and the doctor nodded.
‘I think so. We need to get her inside. Can I get a stretcher?’
‘Dunno,’ Harker said, mostly to himself. ‘Can you?’ Patting his pockets, he found his cigarettes – a soggy, unsmokable mess. Dammit. Well, if he couldn’t have a quiet smoke, he’d have a quiet nap instead.
He lay back, closed his eyes, and tried to block out all the noise and the light. It was a trick he’d perfected after years on campaign. These days he could sleep anywhere, any time.
Then a foot prodded his ribs, and he opened one eye, grumpily.
‘Well, then, hero,’ Saskia said, her face demonic in the torchlight. ‘I suppose you’ll be needing medical attention, too?’
Harker waved a hand. Truth be told, he was so wet and cold he was beginning to worry about his extremities. ‘Get me a packet of smokes and I’ll survive,’ he said.
‘I think we can run to that.’ Saskia extended a hand. ‘Come on. Wheeler wants to see you.’

Harker groaned. ‘Why? What’d I do?’
Saskia just glared at him.
‘Oh, right.’ Ignoring her hand, he hauled himself upright. ‘Let’s go and face the fun, then.’
Dripping wet, he squelched through the gate after Saskia and gave the guard there a damp salute.
‘Sir, is it true you pulled an alien from the river?’
Harker rolled his eyes at Saskia. ‘Yep. Blue skin, it had, and one giant wing.’
The young man’s eyes were enormous. ‘Gosh!’
‘That wasn’t necessary,’ Saskia said, as they made their way to the General’s quarters next to the mess.
‘Yeah, but it was fun,’ Harker said.


Kate is a prolific writer of romantic and paranormal fiction and lives in the south east of England with a small and cheerfully insane collection of cats. She misspent her youth watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and reading Terry Pratchett, which sort of made writing fantasy a bit inevitable. Under the name Cat Marsters she also writes award-winning erotic romance. She lives behind a keyboard in Essex and can be found online most days talking about men she fancies, the pride of adored felines aiding her ambition to become Crazy Cat Lady, and the Demon Puppy hindering it. Sometimes she talks about writing. Occasionally, she stops talking about writing and actually does it.

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Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Katie MacAlister

Out Now!

Villains! I love the little devils. Not because I’m secretly a sadist who likes to see all her happy little characters tormented by some nasty villain…well, OK, maybe I do, but mostly I love villains because in them, I see the opportunity of redemption.

There’s nothing that chimes my bells more than a bad boy character, a person who at some point in his life, made a choice that led him into a path of no return. Mind you, I don’t like characters who were born bad—Magoth, a demon lord in my dragon books, is one of my favorite characters, but despite wishing I could turn him around and make him a hero, I know in my heart I can’t because he never truly was ever good to begin with—but give me a man who made some bad choices and was damned because of them, and I’m on the spot ready to bring him back to the fold.

That’s one reason why Baltic, one of my dragon heroes, is my favorite of all the dragons. He started out as the villain, a man who had committed acts so heinous, everyone feared him. So far as anyone knew, he was a psychopathic murderer bent on the destruction of everyone and everything. He remained that way through the three silver dragon books, with only a hint in the last one that perhaps there was more to him than was obvious.

Coming to NAL Signet May 3,2011

I knew the moment I first wrote the words “dread wyvern Baltic” that some day, I was going to take this uber-villain, and turn him into a hero. I couldn’t resist—he was just so bad, so apparently focused on everyone’s destruction, I had to find out what had made him that way, what forces had driven him to become the most hated character in all of dragon history, and spin him around.

It turned out the force that had sent him on a spiral of villainhood had been love. Baltic loved and lost, and that loss drove him more or less insane with grief. The depths of his love, the power it held over his mind, and how it forced him into choices that others would never have made is what intrigued me. I loved exploring just how far his vengeance would take him simply because I knew how much pain he suffered every single moment of his existence.

The joy, of course, was when it came time to write Baltic’s books. Redemption, how sweet thy name! I reveled in the opportunity of taking a villain that readers had despised for three books, and finding a way to not only make them love him, but more importantly, make him whole again. The answer was again love—what once destroyed him, now could make him a warm, funny, loving person, one who still had enough naughty quirks to satisfy my bad-boy lust, but who could now be free to conduct heroic acts…even if they were done with a villainous flair.

Heroes are well and fine, but give me an angsty, tormented villain, and I’ll happily plot his redemption, glorying in his badness every step of the way.

For an Excerpt from the upcoming The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons Click Here.

To Pre-Order (print): Amazon,B-A-M,  Barnes & Noble, Book Depository,  Borders, Chapters, Indie Bound, PenguinPowell’s

To Pre-Order (eBook): Kindle,  Nook

Katie’s page:


For as long as she can remember, Katie MacAlister has loved reading. Growing up in a family where a weekly visit to the library was a given, Katie spent much of her time with her nose buried in a book. Despite her love for novels, she didn’t think of writing them until she was contracted to write a non-fiction book about software. Since her editor refused to allow her to include either witty dialogue or love scenes in the software book, Katie swiftly resolved to switch to fiction, where she could indulge in world building, tormenting characters, and falling madly in love with all her heroes.

Two years after she started writing novels, Katie sold her first romance, Noble Intentions. More than thirty books later, her novels have been translated into numerous languages, been recorded as audiobooks, received several awards, and are regulars on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly bestseller lists. She also writes for the young adult audience as Katie Maxwell.

Katie lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and dogs, and can often be found lurking around online.

Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Mina Carter

Heroes are always a complex subject, especially in fiction and particularly in romantic fiction. On the surface of it, they seem simple. The hero is the good guy with the perfect moral compass, who always does what’s right and gets the girl. Right?

Yeah, I suppose. But, being honest? That’s the sort of hero who bores me to tears. I don’t like reading them and I sure as eggs is eggs don’t like writing them. A writer has to like his or her hero, and even fall in love with them a little themselves, otherwise how can we do their story any justice or even write a story that is credible?

My heroes are usually deeply conflicted, not perfect, and even sometimes can be considered down-right bastards. But deep within, there is something there that is redeemable. Something about them which is just waiting for the right circumstance, and the right woman to come along to make them shine, or show them the way to being the man they want to be, and of course, the hero I want to write about.

Let me share with you my thoughts on one of my favourite heroes. I make no secret of the fact I am a Jensen Ackles fan. I’ve been hooked since watching him play on Dark Angel with Jessica Alba. But my favourite role of his has to be Dean Winchester.

Like my heroes, on the surface Dean isn’t hero material. He’s rough, violent, has questionable morals when it comes to women (okay, the lad’s got the morals of an alley cat at times) and has a more meaningful link with his car than most people. He’s a liar, a conman and for a good portion of the series’es (how the hell do you make series plural anyway?) he’s wanted for murder.

If we dig a little deeper though, there is something compelling and actually heart-rending about the character. He lost his mother at a very young age, but not young enough that he doesn’t remember her like his brother, and grew up dealing with his Dad’s one-man war against everything that goes bump in the night.

He didn’t have a normal childhood, instead moved from pillar to post as John Winchester hunted, and being responsible for his little brother for large periods of time. Both boys were brought up with the knowledge that the monster under the bed isn’t a story, but is real, and how to kill it in a variety of bloody and brutal ways.

As the story progresses, we see different facets of Dean’s character revealed like little gems. His ability to kill can’t be questioned, and he’d rather take that on himself than let his brother do it and suffer agony over it. He spent time in hell and started the apocalypse, but he fights harder than anyone to put that right.

The sweetest episodes for me are the ones were we see what Dean actually wants. Far from the gung-ho, action-driven lifestyle he has, and which most men would kill for in their dreams, he wants a home and family. He wants to be normal.

However, when the shit hits the fan, and the world is about to end…even though he can’t do anything and the very attempt will probably kill him…he doesn’t back down. He faces down the devil himself to try and save his brother.

Violent, egotistical, arrogant…determined to do right, unbelievably noble and sweet as all hell. That’s why Dean Winchester is one of my favourite heroes.

Coming to Ellora's Cave March 11th

Mina Carter Bio:
Mina Carter was born and raised in Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England). After a slew of careers ranging from logistics to land-surveying she can now be found in the wilds of Leicestershire with her husband and young daughter…the true boss of the family.

Coming to Summer House Publishing March 28th, 2011

Suffering the curse of eternal curiosity Mina never tires of learning new skills which has led to Aromatherapy, Corsetry, Chain-maille making, Welding, Canoeing, Shooting, and pole-dancing to name but a few. A veteran Star Trek RPGer, she’s run both games and groups of games but now finds her home in Bravo Fleet, one of the internet’s oldest Star Trek simm groups.

She juggles being a mum, working full time and writing, tossing another ball in the air with her cover artwork. For Mina, writing time is the wee hours of the morning before anyone wakes up and starts making demands, or any spare minute that can be begged, bought or conned.

Her first stories were penned at age 11, when she used a stationery set meant for Christmas thank you letters to write stories instead. More recently, she wrote for her own amusement and to save on outrageous monthly book bills. Now she’s totally addicted and needs her daily writing fix or heads roll!


Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Diana Castilleja

What makes a hero tick?

Well, that’s a bit of a loaded question. Because for as many types of men (and women) out there, there are just as many heroes. The silent, do-it-all-or-die type. The in-your-face type. Even the ones who are nothing but heart.

My heroes tend to be a mixing bag of all of those traits and whatever else happens to work for that story and for them. Each character is unique unto themselves and I love that about them. Even when they add to my gray hair.

Examination room one: Xavier’s Way
Our hero: Xavier De Los Santos
A hard working, self-motivated type of man, from a family of strong men (all brothers. You kinda feel sorry for their mother, I know I do!). What happens though when life throws him a slow and sexy curve ball in the form of one Jordan Belton? He shakes in his work boots is what happens! And the incredible thing about how he handles that curve ball is by admitting he’s scared. Admitting he may be wrong. No matter what direction he tries to take, but takes it anyway.

So he’s one type. Flexible. Accepting, able to stand up to a challenge. But sensitive to the fact that once the cat is out of the bag-Jordan’s personal attraction-he doesn’t give fate the finger. He stands up to it and challenges himself to embrace it.

Terrifying, isn’t it? You’ll have to read his story to see just how he handles it.

Xavier’s Way Book Info:

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Examination room two: Wolf Brother’s Legacy: Resurrection
Our Hero(ine): Angela Merrick (Yes a woman)

This woman has had life kick her while she’s down and even when life doesn’t let her catch her breath, she..doesn’t..stop…living. I will have to admit, this chick was hard to write. Stubbornest damn ass of a person…but that’s a side rant. In truth, just staying alive and on her own two feet is her biggest challenge because she’s dying. She knows it. She’s accepted it, now if the rest of the damn world would just let her be until she can’t fight back any longer, she’d be content. Yeah, life doesn’t happen that way.

She’s the type of woman that personifies inner strength, because even when life is kicking her ass, she kicks back. Hard. She doesn’t stop when her mind and heart are set on something. She will fight tooth and nail for what she believes in. The lioness. A fighter.

Her type is very in your face with her strength, but feminine. A spine of steel with a conscientious heart.

Wolf Brother’s Legacy: Resurrection Book Info:
Publisher Link:
(Releasing this summer)

Examination room three: Beneath the Shield
Our hero: Jack Torres
Now here is a yummy example of alpha male that has been wounded so badly, he’s drifting, mostly hiding, living, but on the very edges. He’s the type to let you run into his fist, not hit you. His heart is in desperate need of CPR, and a certain doctor has just what he needs.

Jack learns to let go, that living is now. He is a deep strength, because only that in human nature allows us to forgive ourselves. Being a police officer shows he’s not immune to the world around him, and he shows that, but woe be to the one who dares to reach him.

So that’s three strong, very similar characters, but in each story they are as individual and unique as the world between page one and ‘The End’.

How do I see heroes? I see them in all shapes and sizes, everywhere, from the young man who helped me one afternoon to aid the driver of a car that had flipped–yes, flipped–barely thirty feet in front of me on a busy highway, to the kindness of making someone’s day by taking donuts to work–when you don’t work there. They are all around us, in the small and big things they do. There is no age limitations, no city-to-cowboy delineation, not even male versus female. We all are heroes, and I want my readers to recognize that facet of themselves in the characters I write.

Beneath the Shield Book Info:

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Diana Castilleja/Diana DeRicci Bio:
With more than half a dozen ebooks currently to her credit and her first print book released in 2008, Diana Castilleja has kept busy since she started writing professionally in late 2004. Diana currently resides in central Texas with her husband and son. When not focusing her energy on her family and her writing, she loves to travel and haunt bookstores. She’s lived in several states across the south and midwest, as well as traveling to Mexico. With moving every year or changing schools since the fourth grade to her sophomore year, she learned reading was a fast escape. The freedom to read about anything and everything has fueled her adult imagination. She also enjoys romance, horses, and yes, still loves to read. Right now, she’s probably attacking her keyboard writing her next book. If she’s not, she should be!