Tag Archives: #HobbyCareerPassion

#HobbyCareerPassion: Write What You Know – Horses by Pamela S. Thibodeaux

Welcome to my weekly feature where authors share about the hobbies, careers, or passions of their characters.

I’m pleased to introduce today’s guest, Pamela S. Thibodeaux…

Write What You Know…

Horses

Horses have always been my passion. I’ve loved them as far back as I can remember, even owned a few in my lifetime. In memories of dreams past, I recall the desire to be a Veterinarian and work with horses. I’ve also held Bandera, TX near and dear to my heart since I visited the area as a small child with my grandparents. And, as most women, young and old, romance, and the desire for it, is a passion of mine. So how does all of this pertain to my writing?

I write contemporary romance and women’s fiction and my Tempered series is set in none other than, Bandera, Texas!

In Tempered Hearts (book 1), Tamera Collins is the culmination of that long-ago dream and obsession with horses.  A large animal Vet, she describes her love of these majestic animals like this…

“I’ve always had a passion for horses, much to the dismay of my mother. From the time I was very little, my daddy swore I was part horse. He said I squealed with delight every time I saw a pony.”

Hero, Stanley Morrison is the horse lover in Tempered Fire (book 3). His desire is to raise horses… “Not many, but well bred, well trained, high-quality horses. Quarter, Thoroughbred, Walkers, and Arabians; horses for speed, strength, show and beauty.”

Horses play a large part in any contemporary, cowboy series set on a ranch, but the Tempered books are not the only place horses appear in my writing.

In Circles of Fate, the heroine, Shaunna owns a horse. Keri’s Christmas Wish depicts a horse on the cover, one that Keri owned as a child which died when she was a teen. I’ve even written a story of how being around horses while living/working on a ranch in (you guessed it!) Bandera, TX during one of the darkest times of my life virtually saved me. The story is included in The Horse of My Heart anthology (Revell, Oct. 2015).

My love for horses has not dimmed over the years despite decades of not owning and years of not riding, however horses will most likely show up in books and stories for years to come.

All of these books can be found on my Amazon Author Page

Author bio: Award-winning author, Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, “Inspirational with an Edge!” ™ and reviewed as “steamier and grittier than the typical Christian novel without decreasing the message.” Sign up to receive Pam’s newsletter and get a FREE short story!

 

Links:

Website address: http://www.pamelathibodeaux.com

Blog: http://pamswildroseblog.blogspot.com

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/psthibnewsletter

Face Book Personal: http://facebook.com/pamelasthibodeaux

Face Book Author page: https://www.facebook.com/pamelasthibodeauxauthor

Twitter: http://twitter.com/psthib @psthib

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/pamelasthibodea/

Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1jUVcdU

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/pamela-s-thibodeaux

Instagram: https://instagram.com/pamelasthibodeauxauthor

 

 

 

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#HobbyCareerPassion: A Fine Line Between Passion and Obsession ~ Linda Nightingale

Welcome to my weekly feature where authors share about the hobbies, careers, or passions of their characters.

I’m pleased to introduce today’s guest, Linda Nightingale…

A Fine Line Between Passion and Obsession

Morgan D’Arcy

How closely does your passion border on obsession? Quite frequently, for very passionate people, their passion in life is an obsession, particularly those cursed with creativity.  I freely admit that I am one of those people.  For centuries I have dreamed of a woman to be my wife, the first to bear the title of the Lady of St. Averil since 1685. There’s a problem or two with my dream. You see, a vampire siring a child from a human woman is prohibited by Les Elus, the ruling council of the Vampyre.  In fact, such a child is removed from the Vampyre Gene Pool as soon as his/her existence is known. Not only is the offspring killed but both parents suffer the same fate.

The ritual of conception is very exact and very dangerous for the mother. She must be fed the vampire’s blood three times over a short period, then drained near death when she is impregnated.  If the father fails, he loses not only his dream but the woman he loves.

My hope was that my vampire/human child would have the powers of the vampire and the morals and sensitivity of its human ancestors.  The Vampyre have gifts to offer to humankind. Our blood will heal grievous human ills, and temporarily slow aging. I’m sure there will be quite a call for vampire doctors. I hope my child will be a bridge between two different species. Make no mistake—vampires and humans are different species. The Vampyre Effect alters the mortal’s DNA (Isabeau could explain this better than I) and grants immortality to a predator.

All lofty dreams aside, now a mortal woman has become my passion….Isabeau. She’s beautiful and brilliant—a gifted geneticist (which will come in handy). She loves me, too, but enough to stand the test of eternity?  I never dreamed that the woman who’d be my partner in crime would become my passion.  Oh, I still cherish my dream of a race of half-breeds, but she is my focus, and I find it difficult to even think of risking her life to make my dream come true.

Sinners’ Opera tells the story of our folie a deux, our double madness.  Read but do not judge. Les Elus will sit in judgment one day too soon.

Love is a passion. Obsession is a passion. Love and obsession tread the same fine  line as  between genius and insanity. Passion means standing naked before the mirror of one’s desires.  Do you have the courage? I’m not sure I do.

Any ideas?

BLURB:

Morgan D’Arcy is an English lord, a classical pianist, and a vampire. He has everything except what he desires most—Isabeau. As the Angel Gabriel he’s steered her life and career choice, preparing her to become Lady D’Arcy.

Many forces oppose Morgan’s daring plan—not the least of which is Vampyre law.

Isabeau Gervase is a brilliant geneticist. Though she no longer believes in angels, she sees a ticket to a Nobel Prize in Gabriel’s secrets—secrets that have led her to a startling conclusion. Gabriel isn’t human, and she fully intends to identify the species she named the Angel Genome. Morgan is ready to come back into Isabeau’s life, but this time as a man not an angel. Will he outsmart his enemies, protect his beloved and escape death himself? For the first time in eternity, the clock is ticking.

EXCERPT:

Razor-sharp memory sliced through me, jerking me upright.  “’od’s teeth!”

Before the fall, I’d been shot.

Rapid-fire images snapped before my eyes.  I saw my Jag plunging over the guardrail at the top of the Old Cooper River Bridge.  Now, in the silence of a church, I felt the wind whistling past my face as the force of the fall sucked the breath from my lungs and tried to pluck me from the convertible.  Irrationally, I’d clung to the wheel while my beloved roadster sank, in a slow rocking ballet, to the river bottom.

During that interminable swift plunge, I hadn’t been afraid of dying.

Mary touched my arm.  “Be still, hon, or you’re gonna start bleeding again.”

I was in no danger of bleeding to death or dying from any natural cause.  I knew why I’d heard her thoughts, why the aroma of her blood bedeviled me.  I knew who and what I am.

The blood staining her blouse was a miracle drug that could cure the most grievous of human diseases—and secure eternity for a predator. The wound that would have been fatal to a mortal had almost healed.  Within hours after the ritual blood exchange, a fragile yet potent virus had mutated my DNA.  I’d never actually died; would never feel death’s cold hands.  The Vampyre Effect was a transformation from one species to another.  For almost four centuries, I’d been a vampire.

The woman leaned over me.  I heard the blood whispering in her veins, saw the jugular bulging with each strong heartbeat.  Even the scent of my own blood fed the craving.  Hunger wrenched my stomach, the need for blood shuddering over me in flashes of heat.  The pain twisting inside me was a living thing—ugly, urgent, older than the world.  In a vain attempt at control, I ground my teeth until my jaw ached.  My hands clenched into fists, the tendons bunched like steel bands beneath the skin.  I was losing it, my eyes turning red.

“Run, Mary,” I panted, shoving her.  “For God’s sake, run.”

Her hands branded my shoulders.  Need coursed through me.

Her brow puckered.  “How did you know my name?”

“You look like a Mary,” I gasped, trying to crawl away.  “Bloody hell, run, woman.”

 

BIO :

After 14 years in Texas, Linda just returned home to her roots. She has seven published novels, four of which are available from Audible.com in audio. For many years, she bred, trained and showed Andalusian horses. So, she’s seen a lot of this country from the windshield of a truck pulling a horse trailer. She retired from a career as a legal assistant at MD Anderson Cancer Center to write full time.

She has 2 wonderful sons—one in Texas; one in England—and 4 equally marvelous grandchildren.

She loves horses, sports cars, music, and piano, and enjoys dressing up and hosting formal dinner parties.

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/LNightingale

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/LindaNightingaleAuthor

Web Site:  http://www.lindanightingale.com

Blog:  https://lindanightingale.wordpress.com/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4839311.Linda_Nightingale

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/lbnightingale1/

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Linda-Nightingale/e/B005OSOJ0U

BookBub:   https://www.bookbub.com/profile/linda-nightingale

 

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#HobbyCareerPassion: My Secret Rose by Kara O’Neal

Welcome to my weekly feature where authors share about the hobbies, careers, or passions of their characters.

I’m pleased to introduce today’s guest, author friend, Kara O’Neal…

My Secret Rose:

My name is Corinne Taylor, and when I was twelve, I was given a piece of land near an offshoot of Pike’s Run, one of the rivers that runs through my hometown. I’ve always loved nature. Its beauty has helped me escape a strained and unloving environment. And this tract of land is surrounded by pine, oak and maple trees. It’s magnificent. It’s inspired me to create, to nurture, and in this idyllic space I made a garden of roses. Over time it’s grown into an ethereal hideaway with numerous paths of all different types of roses. Ones that climb, ones that sit low, ones that stand tall. Pink, white, purple, peach, yellow, every bush is a surprise of color, and has turned my garden into a riot of exquisiteness.

I didn’t know I had a talent. It came from love, from a yearning deep inside me to be my own person. My mother is stifling and does everything within her power to control me. She even chooses my fashions, which are ruffled monstrosities. I can’t explain to you why I can’t break her hold over me, but at least I’ve found a way to be happy.

I’ve learned so much about roses. There are many different breeds, and each has its own identity. My favorite are the Madame Hardy, from the Damask family. Mr. Hardy bred them for his wife and named the white flower after her. Every time I see the blooms, I think of the love he had for her, and it warms my heart. I hope I’m as lucky as she one day.

Right now my garden is hidden away from the world. Only a select few know about it, which is very wrong. I should share it, and I long to do so, but as soon as my mother finds out about it, I know she’ll do everything in her power to rip it from me. One day, I’ll be strong and fight her. One day, I’ll share my love with all of my friends and the town. For it deserves to be seen in the light.

My roses. So beautiful. And I can make them grow.

 

Blurb:

Corinne Taylor has a secret. And it must be protected. If her mother discovers what Corinne has been hiding, Hell will not describe the place in which she will find herself. Beulah, Corinne’s mother, has proclaimed herself “queen” of Pike’s Run, and no one crosses her, especially not her daughter.

And while Corinne does what she can to guard her secret, her best efforts aren’t enough. War comes to Pike’s Run and the Taylor household when Beulah learns of her daughter’s betrayal. The battle that ensues forces Corinne to seek help from a new arrival.

Jonathan Pierce, a successful lawyer, has come to Pike’s Run looking to find solace from his past. When Corinne asks for his support, her innocence and bravery call to the needs within his broken spirit, and he can’t turn her down. She is capturing his heart, but if she ever learns of his cowardice, she will reject him, killing any hope he has left of finding love.

Excerpt:

She let out a slow breath then drew in another deeply. After a few moments, she lowered her arms to her sides and lifted her chin. “Would you like to see them?”

“Your roses?”

She nodded.

Pleasure spread through Jonathan. “Of course.”

Aware she gave him an opportunity only a handful of others had experienced, he didn’t dare turn down her offer. He should, though. In fact, he should be going on his way, putting distance between himself and a woman who tugged at his basic needs and protective side.

But instead of heeding good sense, he followed her.

When hedgerows appeared, she unlatched a gate and let him in. He hadn’t gone two steps before amazement struck him. He stopped in his tracks and stared at the beauty.

Was it acceptable to even breathe amidst this labor of love? The blooms were open to the five o’clock sun streaming in. The bright orange light danced off of shades of purple, pink and red. Yellow dazzled the eye, along with peach and white.

He felt a nudge at his elbow. He looked down, and the smile directed up at him put the flowers to shame.

“You can walk around. You won’t hurt them.”

The teasing glint in her eyes made his mouth tip up at the corners. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the luscious curve of her lips. Warmth spread through him, but he turned away, avoiding the lust curling inside. Instead of a reply, he went down the stone walk, allowing the glory of her handiwork to delight his eye.

He paused at different varieties, noting the shape of the petals or how they lay against each other. Their fragrance wafted around him, making him want to sit and soak up their loveliness. Which was odd.

When he reached the center, he turned and found her several paces behind him. She hadn’t said a word as he’d explored. He could only describe the expression on her face as one of pleasure. She seemed glad she’d shared her haven with him.

“You did all this?”

She nodded, a blush staining her cheeks.

Even standing amidst the evidence of her talent, modesty enveloped her. He couldn’t help the slight smile that formed. “It’s magnificent.”

“Thank you.”

Should he venture into her world and help her? If he did, he feared the safety of his heart.

Bio:

Born and raised in Texas, the state had to be the setting for my first series. From the food to the fun, like floating the rivers, it is the fire in my blood that inspires me. My family and friends take center stage in my books. My sisters and best friends are my heroines, and my husband created my favorite hero. Love and family are the point of my stories, and I seek to entertain, relieve stress, and inspire people. Books can take one on a journey that one can relive over and over. I am extremely grateful to those authors who did that very thing for me. I learned and I fell in love with their words and characters. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Please visit me at www.karaoneal.com.

 

Social Media Links:

Website –  http://www.karaoneal.com

Bookbub –  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kara-o-neal

Amazon –  http://www.amazon.com/Kara-ONeal/e/B00FL19TH8/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1465007993&sr=8-1

Barnes and Noble –  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/kara+o’neal?_requestid=845025

Facebook –  https://www.facebook.com/KaraONeal84/

Twitter –  https://twitter.com/KaraONealAuthor

Pinterest –  https://www.pinterest.com/karaoneal7/

Goodreads –  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7278350.Kara_O_Neal

Blog — http://www.karaoneal.com/blog

 

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#HobbyCareerPassion: Finding Your Roots with Family History by Heidi Wessman Kneale

Welcome to my weekly feature where authors share about the hobbies, careers, or passions of their characters.

I’m pleased to introduce today’s guest, Heidi Wessman Kneale…

 

Finding Your Roots with Family History

Image by Mary Pahlke from Pixabay

Family History is one of the biggest hobbies in the world, inspiring millions to learn where they came from. Any famous people in your history? Any amazing stories? You could even be descended from a king.

In my book “For Richer, For Poorer”, Beatrice Nottham has traced her family roots back over a thousand years. Turns out she is descended from Norman nobility, but her roots also come with a family curse…

I can’t claim to have gone back quite that far in my own family history but have been able to trace my line back to French and German nobility and even a Swedish king.

It’s not so much the blue blood flowing in my veins that makes family history so fascinating but the stories of everyday people. Our families did not live boring lives!

A great-great grandmother of mine, Elizabeth Pugsley Hayward, was a Suffragette. She was one of the first women to be elected to a State political office before women were even allowed to vote. This meant she was successfully elected by a hundred percent male vote. She served as a State Representative, then later as a State Senator. She was even introduced the bill to ratify the 19th Amendment to the State Senate, successfully.

There’s a history of strong women in my family, even one who wasn’t a woman.

A 19th Century ancestor of mine was Edwin Pettit, an American Pioneer. When his family emigrated out West, he had to remain behind, as he was apprenticed to a cruel master.

One night, Edwin managed to sneak out and make his way to a pioneer camp. There, everyone conspired to dress Edwin up as a girl, skirts, curls and all. He remained in this disguise for as long as it took until his master, who had come looking had given up.

Not many people can lay claim to a cross-dressing ancestor.

How can you get started in your family history?  Ask your parents, your grandparents, your aunts, uncles and other family members for their stories. Write them down. Get as much information as you can, for once they die, they take their stories with them.

For those who have passed on, you can look them up in Census records, on Family History sites like FamilySearch.org and Ancestry.com. Many public libraries and family history centres offer free access to Ancestry.com.

Don’t feel discouraged if you’re not able to immediately find records of your family. Every month more and more records are transcribed and made public, even records for families that, until now, have been almost impossible to track and trace. For example, the family histories of many African Americans are coming to light, thanks to the tireless work of historians like Amy Tanner Thiriot and genealogists like Thom Reed.

Knowing your family history can give you a sense of belonging, a sense of place. Join millions of fellow human beings around the world who are learning where they come from.

 

For Richer, For Poorer is available in ebook format and as an audiobook.

 

 

Blurb:

The Deveraux line is famous…for a family curse. The rich must marry the poor or lose their prosperity. Peter Baring is the last of the Deveraux and sinking slowly into poverty. But will marriage to his icy business partner save him?

Beatrice Nottham dreams of leaving Earth for a fresh start. But only married couples are allowed to move off-world. Marrying a man she’s unsure she loves will solve that problem…but at what cost?

When Beatrice visits England to research her branch of the Deveraux family tree, she meets Peter and sparks fly. Both question everything they ever believed would fulfill their dreams. If they dare to be together, will the Curse follow them beyond the stars? The answer to breaking its power could lie in the heart of a crumbling tapestry…if they have the courage to try.

Excerpt:

What were the exact conditions of the Curse?

That the richest must marry the poorest? Sure. But other than that? Peter wondered, did Gytha love Phillippe?

She must have, to stay for so long. Or was it love? Did she stay simply so her family could be provided for? If she loved him, would she have cursed him thus? Or was she thinking of her sons? Clearly, she loved them more than anything.

“Peter?” Beatrice’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Whether or not my marriage to Francie will break the Curse is irrelevant, because last night I decided I’m not going to marry her.” He hung his head. “And forgive me,” he murmured, “I haven’t told her yet.”

He wanted to take Beatrice’s hands, but thought that most improper. He did not know how she was taking this news. She stood as she had through the story of the Curse, one hand wrapped about her waist, the other hand pressed to her lips.

“I don’t love her,” he confessed. “Not one whit. I never did.”

Beatrice closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “Yet you were going to marry her.”

He shrugged, at a loss for an answer. “I thought she loved me.”

“But you didn’t love her.” Was that disappointment in her voice?

“I liked her,” he hedged.

There was pain in her voice. “But you love the land more? You’d marry her so not only would the prosperity return, but she’d know how to develop the land properly so it’d turn a profit.” She hugged both arms tightly about her. “Or perhaps you love money? Perhaps you see this as the only way of restoring your fortune.”

 

BIO:

Heidi Wessman Kneale is an Australian author of moderate repute. By day, she wrangles computers as a way of supporting her writing habits. By night she stares at the stars in the sky. Noble blood flows through her veins; she is the daughter of kings and can prove it.

Links:

@heidikneale

http://RomanceSpinners.blogspot.com

http://tinyurl.com/heidikneale/

mailing list: http://eepurl.com/c9vM9L

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#HobbyCareerPassion: Animal Love and the Internet by Emily Heebner

Welcome to my weekly feature where authors share about the hobbies, careers, or passions of their characters. And Merry Christmas!! 

I’m pleased to introduce today’s guest, Emily Heebner…

Animal Love and the Internet 

I’m grateful for the internet. However flawed, it lets folks research any topic at any hour in the comfort of home. It allowed me to write about puppies being born.

I had married into a family of animal lovers. Not that I didn’t already love animals, I did! I grew up with a beloved dog, Cookie, a great friend and confidante. But in typical suburban fashion, my mother did most – okay – all of the animal care herself.

So when I became matron of my home plus dog, I put my foot down. “Everybody helps!” I declared.

Now that we have our third dog, Sally, plus two cats, plus lizard who’s determined to out-live us, I continue to study. Especially that night I arrived home late and almost drove over a furry larva in our driveway.

It was to be the night we switched from cat loathers to cat lovers.

I was opening our gate so I could pull my car in when I noticed a fluttering leaf out of the corner of my eye. Exhausted, I wanted to ignore it, but the night was hot and still, so I looked again. Lit by my car’s headlights was a furry larva near our hedge, squirming across the driveway. I left the car running, ran for the house and called, “Honey, come quick! Leave Sally inside!”

“Is it a rat?” I asked.

“A cat.”

Umbilical cord attached, the wee one was brand new, probably dropped by her mom when I opened the gate. We learned from the internet we should’ve given the mommy time to retrieve her baby. But we were unschooled and quick to adopt hero mode.

Soon “Solo” was swaddled in clean towels, with a ticking clock and a heating pad close by her box.

The internet taught us much. Since the mommy wasn’t there to lick, my husband assumed operation poop training, which entailed wiping Solo’s butt with warm, damp cotton balls. I was better at bottle feeding, getting her to latch onto the hummingbird like nipple as she sucked and “swam” in the air with her arms.

On the third day, the vet said to bring her in. While he checked her, our larva-kitten pooped on the table. I watched the vet pick up the piece of poop, throw it away, then stick his finger in her mouth. What? The moment flashed so fast, just like the wiggling leaf on the driveway that was now our tiny pet. Did I really see the vet stick his finger in her mouth? The same finger that picked up the poop?

Next day, Solo was lethargic. I put her on our bed to play but she lay still, then moved, dragging her back leg. I quickly put her inside my shirt, looked up fading kitten syndrome, phoned the vet, got in the car, and phoned Eric.

It was a different vet on call so we squealed about the other vet’s poopy finger moment. This new vet explained that without her mother’s milk, Solo was extra vulnerable to infection. He loaded her up with more than the recommended antibiotics and with a doubtful smile, wished us well.

Flash forward: Solo will be four years old this spring. She’s healthy. She and Sally are good friends.

In Seneca Lake, Arthur helps a Labrador deliver her puppies in a saloon. One gets stuck but survives. The internet and Solo taught me how to write that scene.

Blurb:

It’s 1944, and high school senior Meg Michaels has always obeyed her grandparents’ wishes, till now. They’re urging her to give up her dream of Cornell University and accept a ring from wealthy Hank Wickham before he deploys overseas.

But Meg has studied hard and yearns for something better than life in the rural Finger Lakes. Plus Meg’s suddenly fascinated with her childhood friend, Arthur Young, a handsome Seneca Indian farm worker. When Meg and Arthur nurse a sick puppy to health, their friendship transforms into love.

But locals look down on “injuns” and resent the fact that Arthur’s farm job exempts him from military duty. While the war rages in Europe, Meg and Arthur must fight their own battles at home…

Excerpt:

They all watched, hoping a puppy would begin to appear. Brandy grunted and contorted, but nothing changed.

“Dang it.” Arthur wiped his forehead into the upper part of his sleeve. Then he carefully slipped the fingers of one hand inside Brandy’s swollen vagina. She squirmed at first, even growled some. But as Arthur’s hand made its way farther inside her, she breathed through her nose, poised, as if she trusted him, painful as it was. Her eyes fixated at the towel beside her head.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “I’m gettin’ him, Brandy.” Her belly lurched. “Hold still now, girl.”

Arthur’s hand began to reverse direction. He pulled so slowly, Meg wasn’t sure at first. A tingle of dread ran through her. Minutes seemed to pass. Then his forearm tightened.

He shook his other hand toward Meg.

“Towel!”

She grabbed some clean ones from the whelping box.

“Sac’s broke.” He was pulling a wet tail and tiny paws from Brandy’s birth canal. He wrapped a towel around them. Brandy’s belly contracted. Then swoosh, the puppy slid out. Meg handed Arthur a dry towel which he wrapped around the pup. Brandy watched and panted, then gnawed on the cord and began to eat the afterbirth. But the puppy lay still.

“Gol dang it—”

Arthur picked up the lifeless pup and rubbed him vigorously in the towel. He stood and stepped back from Brandy, swinging the pup belly up, over his head, then down between his knees in an arc. He did it again, then checked the puppy’s nose and mouth.

“Dang it!”

He swung the puppy again, then checked his mouth. A soft gurgle could be heard.

“Atta boy—” said Charley.

“C’mon, big guy.” Arthur rubbed him roughly in the towel. “Wake up.” He wiped the pup’s nostrils and blew on his face. The puppy squirmed just slightly. Arthur rubbed and rubbed, as if summoning a genie from a magic lamp.

Meg stood beside them. “If you can wake up,” she said, “we’ll make you fat as Ol’ Pete.”

Arthur stopped rubbing and studied the pup’s face. “We’ll call you Li’l Pete, how’d you like that? Folks’ll think you’re one part hog.”

Brandy moaned.

Charley tried to grin. “His ma swears he’s pure pup, Art. She ain’t been near no hogs.”

“Keep rubbing and talking.” Arthur handed the puppy to Meg. He stooped down to check Brandy. “Comin’ head first. This one ain’t stuck.”

 

Bio:

Emily Heebner, MFA is a fiction writer, professor and theater professional. A Cornell University graduate, she worked extensively as an actor, then wrote documentary scripts for dvds including The Hours, Tuck Everlasting, The Count of Monte Cristo and The Passion. Seneca Lake, her Coming of Age novel, explores interracial romance. Published by The Wild Rose Press, it’s available in Print, ebook and Audiobook formats.

website: emilyheebner.com

facebook: https://www.facebook.com/emily.heebner.90

https://twitter.com/EmilyHeebner 

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#HobbyCareerPassion: Stained Glass & Vampires by Kristal Dawn Harris

Weekly feature where authors share about the hobbies, careers, or passions of their characters. I’m pleased to introduce today’s guest, Kristal Dawn Harris…

STAINED GLASS & VAMPIRES

Red Snowflakes is a paranormal Christmas romance featuring a vampire. In Red Snowflakes, the lead male character is a vampire. Dimitri, the vampire, creates stained glass snowflakes for each year spent waiting for his mate. He hangs them on his Christmas tree as a beacon for her to come to him, but she never does. That’s just part of the story. You’ll have to read the book to find out more about this highly talented vampire with such a unique hobby! LOL

The term stained glass can refer to colored glass as a material or to works created from it. Throughout its thousand-year history, the term has been applied almost exclusively to the windows of churches and other significant religious buildings. Although traditionally made in flat panels and used as windows, the creations of modern stained glass artists also include three-dimensional structures and sculpture.

As a material stained glass is glass that has been colored by adding metallic salts during its manufacture. The colored glass is crafted into stained glass windows in which small pieces of glass are arranged to form patterns or pictures, traditionally held together by strips of lead and supported by a rigid frame. A soldering iron is used to melt the lead.

Stained glass, as an art and a craft, requires the artistic skill to conceive an appropriate and workable design, and the engineering skills to assemble the piece. A window must fit snugly into the space for which it is made, must resist wind and rain, and also, especially in the larger windows, must support its own weight. Many large windows have withstood the test of time and remained substantially intact since the Late Middle Ages. In Western Europe they constitute the major form of pictorial art to have survived.

Stained glass is still popular today, but often referred to as art glass. It is prevalent in luxury homes, commercial buildings, and places of worship. Artists and companies are contracted to create beautiful art glass ranging from domes, windows, backsplashes, etc. Most people are familiar with stained glass, but aren’t aware that you can do it at home. This is a craft that you can get into on your own with beautiful results, as long as you have the right tools.

I recently picked up an old, wooden, window frame on the side of the road. To most it looks like junk, but to me, I envision a masterpiece! I’ve ordered a beginner’s stained-glass kit online and can’t wait to get started. Once my project is complete, I’ll upload the finished project. The book, Red Snowflakes, released November 6, 2019. If the thought of a vampire who is an artist gets you just a little bit curious, this might be the romance book for you!

 

Blurb:

Forensic photographer, Dena Williams, has spent her life trained to see what others cannot. Vampire, Dimitri Kovac, has waited every Christmas for a miracle that does not come. In the Oregon wilderness, during a snowstorm, these two destined souls collide. Dena’s only hope of survival rests in a vampire with the heart of a poet. Dimitri only has five days to win a skeptical woman’s heart. As the Christmas tree lights burn brightly and the snow continues to fall, will Dena succumb to a vampire’s charms? With so little time, can Dimitri win her love?

Excerpt:

Dena stood her ground waiting until he stopped directly in front of her-toe to toe. Her eyes lifted from his broad chest to his face. His breath caressed her skin in whispery touches. This close she could see the small lines around his eyes and the long length of his eyelashes. She’d photographed numerous crime scenes and witnessed the arrest of several criminals, so she knew the eyes of a killer. This man did not have those eyes. Predator yes. Murderer no. The sea-blue depths emanated tranquility, but there was something else there as well.

Trained to see things others didn’t, Dena’s head tilted while studying him trying to see what evaded her eyes. Engrossed in his features, almost drawn to him on a level her mind didn’t understand, her body leaned forward. He didn’t move away, but his pupils tracked every move she made. Dena focused on his eyes letting her own senses expand. Something was different in those sea-blue depths. They say the eyes are the mirror to the soul, but his seemed more like a mask. Her body jerked when the black of his pupils bled into the white until his sockets completely blacked out, then shifted back to their normal sea-blue color. Curiosity led her. One foot slid between his as she moved even closer until their bodies brushed. For some odd reason, she wasn’t afraid. “What are you?”

Bio:

Kristal Dawn Harris is an award-winning American author, born in Middletown, Ohio. She currently resides in Ohio with her husband. Kristal has been married for 27 years and has two children. She graduated from Carlisle High School, then furthered her education at Miami University. She has a business degree in Accounting Technology. Kristal spent twenty years working as an Office Coordinator in the hospital until she released her debut novel, “The Rings of Faolan-Emeralds,” through The Wild Rose Press.

In 1999, Kristal suffered a debilitating disease called “Guillain-Barre Syndrome.” This rare disease damaged the nerves in her body requiring the use of drop-foot braces in order to walk. Kristal considers herself a survivor and encourages anyone with a disability to follow their dreams.

Kristal is considered a hybrid romance author since she published “Hand-Carved Wolf” and “Thief of Hearts” on her own. Kristal is an avid reader who enjoys romance from all genres, but paranormal is her favorite.

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#HobbyCareerPassion: Running on the Page by Sadira Stone

Weekly feature where authors share about the hobbies, careers, or passions of their characters. I’m pleased to introduce today’s guest, Sadira Stone…

Photo credit: Image by Melk Hagelslag from Pixabay

Running on the Page

Once upon a time, I was a long-distance runner. The perfect sport for an introvert like me, running kept me fit, cleared my head, got me outside after long days in my classroom (I taught high school English, French, German, and theater), and kept me connected to the changing seasons. Living in Germany, I never lacked for forest trails and farm paths to run on, out in the great, glorious Wide Open.

Alas, time and gravity took their toll, and my knees no longer allow me to run much anymore. I still enjoy walking and other forms of exercise, but I miss that sensation of hard, steady effort, the rush of endorphins that hushed my busy, buzzy brain, the wind’s brush on my glowing skin.

They say, “Write what you know.” My experience as a runner provides rich sensory memories to draw on, and so running plays an important part in both the Book Nirvana books, contemporary romance set in Eugene, Oregon, known as “Track Town USA” because of this small city’s love and support of the sport. During my visits to Eugene, I’ve watched runners on the riverside trails that frame the Willamette, and I’ve walked Pre’s Trail, a wood-chip paved running path in Alton Baker Park, named for University of Oregon’s track superstar Steve Prefontaine.

Book Two of the series, Runaway Love Story, features a hero and heroine who are both runners. In fact, their first meeting takes place on a riverside running path, and their first steamy love scene take place while on a run. Here’s Laurel, the heroine, describing her love for running:

“I’ll be back in an hour or two.” She loped off toward the cool, soothing green of Alton Baker Park. She’d missed her runs along the Willamette River, the rhythm of her feet slapping on the pavement, her breath sliding in and out, steady as the tides. When she ran, worries about the future unhooked their claws.

Just breathe. Just run. Just be.

Blurb:

Fierce passion or long-cherished dreams…she can’t hang onto both.

Chasing a big-city art gallery job, Laurel detours to Eugene, Oregon to help her spitfire great aunt into assisted living. While on a run, she’s harassed by a group of teens until a tall, broad-shouldered hottie rescues her by pretending to be her boyfriend–with a kiss that makes her wish it were true. But she’s only passing through.

Their fierce chemistry burns up the sheets—and the couch, the shower, the woods…but falling in love could cost Laurel more than she’s willing to sacrifice. She can’t stay in Eugene, and he can’t leave. His only hope is to convince her those big-city lights have nothing on her inner sparkle.

Excerpt:

He stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat rolling off his body.

A flush painted his cheekbones and his long, straight nose. Exercise, sunburn, or something more interesting?

The air between them vibrated with tingly energy. She focused on the floor, because looking into his face felt too dangerous.

He moved still closer, his toes nearly touching hers. “We’re good now?”

Her gaze slid up from his long, muscular calves, covered with blond fuzz, to his powerful thighs, to the impressive bulge between them, then up his slim torso, his muscular chest, his broad shoulders, until her gaze rested on his face.

His lids lowered, his lips parted. As if magnetized, her fingertips skimmed up his arm.

Stop. She dropped her hand. “We’re good. I’m sorry, Doug. I saw something between you two, and I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

His smile blossomed slowly. “I’m glad that’s all cleared up.”

Not all, but it’s a start. Another thought, a crazy one. I could just kiss him, right here, right now. Get it over with, see what happens next.

Once that seed was planted, it was as if a giant electromagnet switched on, tugging them together. Its power hummed in her bones. Invisible sparks crackled between them. She slid a few inches closer.

Amazon buy link: https://www.amazon.com/Runaway-Love-Story-Book-Nirvana-ebook/dp/B07QBHS1ZQ/

Ever since her first kiss, Sadira’s been spinning steamy tales in her head. After leaving her teaching career in Germany, she finally tried her hand at writing one. Now she’s a happy citizen of Romancelandia, penning contemporary romance and cozy mysteries from her home in Washington State. When not writing, which is seldom, she explores the Pacific Northwest with her charming husband, enjoys the local music scene, belly dances, plays guitar badly, and gobbles all the books. Visit Sadira at www.sadirastone.com.

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#HobbyCareerPassion: ONEY, MY ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY by Diana Rubino

Weekly Feature: Learn about the hobbies, careers, and passions of characters in fiction books. I’m pleased to introduce my first guest, author friend Diana Rubino…

ONEY, MY ESCAPE FROM SLAVERY by Diana Rubino

Ona Maria Judge, known as Oney, was Martha Washington’s house slave. With the help of free blacks, she escaped, never to be recaptured. Her passion can be summed up in one word: freedom.

“I am a mulatto, and light-skinned enough to pass for white. My father, Andrew Judge, was a white indentured servant who got his freedom when I was a child. My mother, Betty, was a seamstress, and another slave of the Washingtons.

“Whenever I saw free blacks, an anger churned in my heart. Why are they free and me not? It was not fair that I was a slave. Although as Mrs. Washington’s waiting made I was not subject to any hardships, I was still her property. No human being should be property. Slavery is evil, and the Washingtons, who never said the word ‘slave’, were two-faced. What galled me was that Mrs. Washington said she felt like a slave, confined to the house whilst Mr. Washington went on travels. When I saw no progress towards emancipation of slaves, it made me more determined to master my craft so I could be self-sufficient someday. I became an expert seamstress.

“I planned my escape with the help of free blacks. It took over a year to plan the right time and to make sure a ship was leaving to bring me to freedom. But I hastened my escape when Mrs. Washington told me I’d make a nice wedding gift to her granddaughter Eliza, I thought she meant I’d sew her a negligee or a quilt for a wedding gift. But, no, she meant I’d be the gift.

“I swore whatever wedding gifts she gave to Miz Eliza, one of them would not be I.

“Whilst they were packing up to go to Virginia, I was packing to go, I didn’t know where; for I knew that if I went back to Virginia, I should never get my liberty. I had friends among the colored people of Philadelphia, had my things carried there beforehand, and on May 21, 1796, as the Washingtons ate dinner, I walked straight past them and out the front door. When I shut it, I left them—and my forced bondage— behind me.

“They knew I went to Portsmouth, New Hampshire and tried to get me captured a few times, but gave up. I am free now and choose to remain so.”

Blurb:

ONEY: My Escape From Slavery is a painstakingly re-imagined account of a true and painful story told generations on. At its heart is the paradox of liberty – for an individual, for a race, for a nation. In a modern world where cultures and histories collide, it is a timely reminder of perspectives on ‘slavery’ and ‘freedom’ that we may have become blind to. It is a big, strong, uplifting book with a soul.

Excerpt:

The hour finally came—while they ate dinner.

Nothing heavied my heart—not remorse, not guilt, not sadness upon fleeing my master and mistress. Raw thirst for freedom overcame all that. I walked straight past the Washingtons and out that door. When I shut it, I left them—and my forced bondage— behind me.

I tore through the muddy streets in pouring rain. Gasping for breath, soaked to the skin, my heart slamming in terror, I glanced behind me, again and again. No one pursued me—yet. I dreaded and expected pounding footsteps, a clap on my shoulder. But, I asked myself, who would chase me through the driving rain? No, it is not possible, I affirmed—they didn’t even know I’d left the kitchen.

At the Jones house I slowed and caught my breath. When Absalom opened the door, I staggered inside, laughing, sobbing, gulping for dear life.

I spent the night pacing the attic room, hands clasped. “I beg of you, dear God, walk beside me on this journey. See me through this safe. Don’t let them capture me. I only want to be your servant, no one else’s.”

As daybreak nudged away the darkness, I fell to my knees, weary with fatigue. “Thank you, dear God, for ending my final night of bondage.”

Mary forced a hoe cake down me and hugged me goodbye. Clinging to her, I poured my heart out. “I’m still a-scared, Mary, no matter what courage I got, I’m still a-scared.” I loved Mary so, but wished I’d been hugging Mamma right now.

“I know you are, dear, but you’ve got protection. And your freedom is worth a bit of fear.”

Purchase ONEY from Amazon: getbook.at/OneyJudge

About Diana

Diana’s favorite eras are Medieval and Renaissance England and all American history. A longtime member of Romance Writers of America, the Richard III Society, and the Aaron Burr Association, she recently completed a romantic thriller about Alexander Hamilton and biographical novels about Eliza Jumel Burr  and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s wife Sophia.

Connect:

www.dianarubino.com

https://www.facebook.com/DianaRubinoAuthor/

Twitter: @DianaLRubino

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