Here's the blurb:
Can a bad boy angel and a dispirited mortal find a Christmas miracle together?
Alice Garner scores a great contract to illustrate a children’s book by a famous author, but lack of inspiration forces her to cancel her holiday plans. Alone on Christmas to meet her looming deadline, Alice wishes on her Christmas tree angel for help.
Luke, newly promoted to Watcher Angel, is reluctant to take the assignment. Long ago, his fiancée broke his mortal heart on Christmas Eve, and even returning to Earth on his Harley won’t dull the sting. Good thing the ground rules forbid getting involved with an assignment—Alice is tempting, but he’d rather not stay on Earth.
But Luke brings Alice more than inspiration. He reawakens her heart. Now Alice has to convince him he’s her greatest wish. With a little Christmas magic, can she convince him to break the ground rules and stay?
I’m Darcy Lundeen, a romance writer, and I’m feeling totally psyched (okay, and just a little nervous, too) because my first novel, "Finding You Again," will be released in digital form in January by The Wild Rose Press.
I’m just checking in to say hello, and because I love my cover, I also can’t resist posting it.It was created by Kim Mendoza, an obviously magnificent artist who I think brilliantly captured the giddy romantic sensation of reconnecting with a past love.
Lastly, I want to wish everyone a safe, happy and blessed Thanksgiving with the people you love.
Never, in her wildest dreams, did she imagine witnessing something like this. Seeing the four naked Indians toss Adam off the bank and into the river had frightened her beyond measure. When she saw that he could not swim, she had considered saving him, but the Indians had pushed past her.
In moments she realized that they had decided, for some unknown reason, to teach Adam Skelding to swim. The rest of the afternoon she sat under the oak trees and watched the antics of five very naked men.
Now, the man who captured her attention the most lay next to her. Water glistened on his olive skin. She couldn’t keep her gaze off the hills and valleys of the muscles across those broad shoulders, back, and tight rear end. He breathed hard, making everything ripple just slightly. Entrancing to witness.
With effort she focused on his face, but he had closed his eyes.
“Adam?”
“Mmmph?”
“Why did they do that?”
The Indians had also emerged from the water and donned their loincloths and moccasins once more. The eagle, which had remained perched in one of the trees nearby during most of the day, lifted from its leafy shelter and circled the group of Indians.
First one blue eye opened and then the other. Rolling on his side to face her, Adam propped his head on his hand, resting his elbow on the ground.
“Because I could not swim. Black Wolf and the others knew this.”
“How did they find out?” Marilla hoped he would confide in her enough to tell his story. Curiosity just about ate her up.
He sighed and rolled onto his back, totally distracting her once more. His manhood grew stiff…and big…and swollen, unlike the Indians. She swallowed hard. He appeared not to notice her interest and seemed very comfortable lying nude.
“During the war, my partner, Pamela, and I worked in Richmond. We discovered that the Confederates had built a secret weapon. We had to get that information to the North. But after learning about this weapon, Pamela disappeared. One of my agents saw her leaving town with a Confederate officer. I thought she had been kidnapped, so I rode to the rescue, fool that I was. In the struggle I ended up in the river. Black Wolf and his friends arrived in time to pull me out of the water.”
Sitting up, Adam reached for his shirt, which Marilla had spread to dry on the grassy bank, and started to dress. She found herself wishing he wouldn’t cover his magnificent body, but said nothing to stop him. The idea would be unseemly.
Adam turned away and headed toward the Indians, who had gathered around the wagon to feast again, feeding scraps to the bird on Black Wolf’s arm. Marilla watched him walk away. He had loved Pamela. His obvious pain said so.
A combination of guilt and self-doubt hit her hard. Her Carl was gone, too. It had hurt at the time to lose him in the war, but her grief had faded quickly…too quickly. Maybe she didn’t really know what love meant.
I love this time of year. The days are getting shorter, leaves are falling, and the holidays are just around the corner. Thanksgiving and Christmas are my favorite celebrations. I began working at The Wild Rose Press around this time several years ago. My name is Anne Seymour, and I currently work as an editor on the Crimson Rose line. I always love a good mystery, especially when the hero is as hot as the suspense.
The one aspect, in my opinion, that marks the difference between just a manuscript and a GREAT MANUSCRIPT is THE FIRST FIVE PAGES. During this critical point in a story, the author must pull the reader in and hook their interest, or the reader will become apathetic toward the characters—and probably not finish reading the book.
Sounds shocking, right? How can an author open a grand story, introduce sympathetic characters and evil villains, begin the action and conflict, but yet confine all above mentioned aspects to a mere FIVE PAGES? An insurmountable task one might say, right? But maybe not; let’s discuss the basics now.
First, we must unlearn all that we have learned previously about writing. I studied all the great works in Literature during college. James Fennimore Cooper, Herman Melville, Henry James, etc. wrote stories in omniscient point of view employing the writing method of “telling” the action instead of “showing” it. This technique removes the reader from the action of the story instead of insisting the reader to take part with the characters in the act. A reader must be immersed in the action and emotionally involved with the characters by the end of the fifth page of a story. Make the reader unable to do anything but participate with your characters.
Next, find an opening line that will grab attention. For example, “Take it easy. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Sunny jerked her arms back hoping to slow the pace of the large-framed detective who continued to drag her from the bar with unwavering force. “Calm down, Wildcat. You’re only making it harder on yourself.” He didn’t slow his stride, or ease the firm grasp he had on her arm as he walked beside her.” In this example, (Some Like It In Handcuffs by Christine Warner—coming soon from The Wild Rose Press) the author introduces the hero and heroine within the first four sentences while adding humor and sexual tension. The reader is hooked now, determined to learn more and join the story.
Finally, make sure to include ONLY necessary information at this time. The first five pages are not for any of the following:
nBack-story: while back-story will be needed in any novel, it should never appear in the first five pages! Use back-story sparingly and only when needed throughout the novel, but never allow it to be longer than a few paragraphs at a time.
nSecondary Characters: Introduce these characters later in the story. Reserve the main characters (hero, heroine, & villain (if there is one)) for the beginning.
nDescriptive or Non-Action Scenes: Describe the setting later. The first five pages should not be filled with paragraphs of how beautiful the sky, trees and meadows are. Also, no Non-Action scenes! Start with a fight scene, a murder, etc. Grab attention.
While this is a brief overview, I hope I’ve mentioned good points to consider. If any are interested in another more in-depth discussion, please comment and let me know. I would be happy to offer another blog discussing this further. Until then, enjoy the season and keep writing!
I'm so excited - release day's finally here! Today, The Wild Rose Press released Romancing the Hero, a contemporary fantasy, as part of its Faery Rose line. Romancing the Hero's a novella, but its 70 pages are packed with fun and romance. And oh yeah, I can't forget mayhem. It's nearly as much fun as the romance!
Here's the excerpt:
“Jody Feather?” The deep voice rushed at her like a hot breeze, reverberated through her, and stopped her where she stood.
“Ye—” Her gaze climbed the long legs clad in well-fitting jeans, pumped torso outlined through his tight tee, to the gorgeous model face. Someone might have stolen a cardboard cutout of the perfect hero and breathed life into it, and that’s who stood on her doorstep.
“Yowsa,” she said on an exhale.
He cocked a delighted brow. “Pardon?”
“May I help you?” Please say yes.
“I believe it’s the other way around.”
“Really?” Thankyouthankyouthankyou! “I mean… what do you mean?”
The timbre of his deep voice filled the space between them. “I’m here to help. Use me.”
Wait. This had to be a prank. “I get it. Mimi sent you.”
His brow furrowed. “Mimi? No.”
Patience waning, she heaved a sigh. “Who are you?”
“I think you know.” He leaned a ripped bicep against the doorjamb in a move that seemed scripted—by her.
“No. Tell me.”
“Jake? Ring a bell?”
She might have guessed. “Oh right. Jake Emerson?”
He clucked his tongue. “The one and only. I knew you’d recognize me anywhere.”
“Even at my own condo. Go figure. So why are you here? As a prop for the signing?” Damn, he fit the role perfectly, too. She couldn’t have picked a better actor. She jotted another note to ask Mimi if he could pose for the next cover. A cardboard cutout would be perfect for signings.
“Is that what you need?” he asked with a hint of disappointment.
She peered past him. “No bags?”
“I travel light.”
“Didn’t she tell you? There are several events. Dinner, the keynote, plus the signing itself. You might want a change of clothes.” Though if anyone could pull off wearing the same outfit every day, he could. She could claim it was Jake’s brand, his image, an intentional move to make him recognizable to conference attendees. Mimi always droned on about the brand, the brand.
Besides, who’d notice his clothes? They only wrapped the prize beneath. And what a yummy prize. She had to hand it to Mimi, the marketing genius.
Musing aloud, she murmured, “Where did they find you?”
“They didn’t. I’m Jake.”
“Right. And I’m Lara Croft.” Not even her Halloween costume could turn her into the sexy heroine.
He chuckled. “You’re better than that bimbo.”
Oh boy. “Let’s not get carried away, shall we? It’s temporary.”
“Why? Do you plan to kill me off?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve read the series.” All that and a reader to boot.
“I don’t need to read it. I live it.”
His devilish smile almost blocked out his words, which hit her like a slap.
Yikes. “Listen, Mr…” Rolling her hand, she prompted him to finish.
“Emerson.”
Method actor, apparently. She’d play along for now. “Sure. Mr. Emerson.”
A car horn sounded outside.
“The taxi.” And she hadn’t remembered whatever she’d forgotten. Too late now. “Give me two seconds.” She hurried to grab her jacket.
“Take all the time you need, baby.”
The endearment brought her to a screeching halt. “Hold on. I get that you’re ‘Jake Emerson’ but when we’re together, address me as Ms. Feather. I am not your baby.” Or anyone else’s, unfortunately. After this weekend, she’d change that.
His mouth curled down in a brief frown. “Pity.”
“Give it a rest.” She’d written this scene in the second novel, when Jake first meets that leading lady. How many scenes had he studied? Hopefully he wouldn’t reenact too many. Sure, she loved her work, but not so much she wanted to live it. Except for certain parts, like the shower scene in book three… You don’t have time for this.
After grabbing her bag, she said a quick goodbye to Frank. “It’s only for the weekend. See you Monday.” She glanced at the man waiting at her door. “Tuesday at the outside.” Never rule out any possibilities. Her parents taught her that. And she’d made it Jake’s motto, one of the reasons fans loved him. Time to make it her own motto as well.
The saying had given her the strength to leap from journalism into fiction. If they only knew what she considered leaping into now… well, she was old enough to face those consequences. And enjoy them while they lasted.
Holding a hand to his sculpted abs, he bowed. “May I carry your bag, Ms. Feather? Or are you too liberated for such a show of chivalry?”
Wiseass. He had that aspect of Jake down pat. “Please. Take it, with my gratitude.” It gave her a chance to follow him down the walkway, and admire his rippling biceps and tight end, made more luscious by his swagger. She paid particular attention. She had to, or she wouldn’t be able to describe it in all its vital deliciousness in a later novel.
Think sweet romances are dead and erotica is all? Not so, according to the article by Faygie Levy and Elissa Petruzzi. Where can you get some satisfying sweet reads? At the Wild Rose Press, check out the Sweetheart Rose line, near and dear to my heart, as that is where my book, Movin' Up With J.J., can be found. Check it out. Then share it with your daughter, your mother, and your grandmother. This line is safe for all sensitivities. :-)
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Noah Clark, the lead singer/songwriter for the rock band Black Phoenix. Perhaps you’ve heard of us. About ten years ago we topped the Billboard charts—a multi-platinum band whose last album was the most successful of its century. But that was before everything went to shit. Back before the sex, alcohol, and rock and roll took away my best friend and drummer, Danny Treybourne. Afterwards, I gave up the lifestyle, the world tours, hell, I gave up the band. I headed back home to London and committed myself to leading a normal life, one without music as its driving force.
For ten years, I was miserable.
So I’m back to making music. I crossed the pond, settled in a place called Auburn, California and began the preparations to reunite Black Phoenix. We hired a new drummer, set up a meeting with the record company, and I went in search of a private, reputable studio to record a demo. I found one in Long Island City, just up the road from a pub named Izzy’s Bar. Where one night, after midnight, I wandered in and set eyes on its namesake.
Damn…Isabeau Montgomery, child prodigy pianist, hiding behind a lie of her own making. She has the most pale, haunted eyes I’ve ever seen, and dark, golden skin. The first time she set those eyes on me and smiled, I was lost. I’m a songwriter, but the way she affected me, I haven’t words.
A detail about me you should know, I was born with a one track mind. I want something; I go out and get it. From the moment I first laid eyes on Isa I wanted her. I wanted to show her what she was missing, ignoring her music the way she did. I wanted to share with her everything I spent all those years figuring out: Denying who you are is nothing but a waste of time, time a person can never get back. Problem is my one track mind got me in trouble. I became so focused on saving her from herself, I didn’t see the whole picture. I pushed her too hard. And in the end, I pushed her away.
Hopefully, one day she’ll forgive me for being such an ass, because Isabeau…Isa completes me.
In a way even my music never could.
Reviews for AFTER MIDNIGHT:
"After Midnight was a compelling, sensual page-turner and I was sorry when it concluded."— 5 Bookies, Book Lovers, Inc
"Excellently written, memorable characters, a romance that builds until it erupts, and a pace that will keep the pages turning until the very end."— 5 Stars, Fire Pages
"After Midnight is a must read for anyone that enjoys contemporary romance stories."— 4 Stars, Sizzling Hot Book Reviews
"This was a fantastic story, full of love and with the right amount of drama to make it interesting but not angsty. Ms. Grimm has a great voice and I can’t wait to read her next book, which hopefully will be Dominic’s. I recommend this book to fans of contemporary romance and dreamy rock stars."— 4 Stars, Romance Around the Corner
Cherie Marks: RELEASE DAY FOR INTO THE FIRE!: It's finally here: RELEASE DAY! Can you feel my excitement? I honestly wasn't sure it would ever really arrive, but here it is. Woot-woo...
Romancing the Hero, my contemporary fantasy, is so much fun! I can't wait till October 26, when The Wild Rose Press will release it. And I can't thank my editor, Kelly Schaub, enough for her guidance and enthusiasm on this story. And wow, cover artist Diana Carlile outdid herself on this cover - I still swoon every time I see it, lol.
I just finished the book video:
Here's the story blurb:
For romance writer Jody Feather, love is wonderful—on the page. Her books are instant bestsellers and readers love her delectable hero, Jake Emerson. He’s the kind of man who knows exactly how to please a woman. The kind of man who doesn’t really exist. Or at least not for Jody—she’s too busy writing about delicious heroes to find one of her own.
When a man shows up on her doorstep claiming to be Jake Emerson, Jody’s hormones shoot sky high. This would-be hero is everything she imagined him to be, and when Jody takes him to her book signing, readers swoon. But Jake only has eyes—and compliments—for her. Before long, Jody stops doubting his story and starts doubting her sanity.
When Jake convinces her she is overdue for love, Jody begins to wonder—instead of just writing about adventures, has she conjured one?
And the excerpt:
“Jody Feather?” The deep voice rushed at her like a hot breeze, reverberated through her, and stopped her where she stood.
“Ye—” Her gaze climbed the long legs clad in well-fitting jeans, pumped torso outlined through his tight tee, to the gorgeous model face. Someone might have stolen a cardboard cutout of the perfect hero and breathed life into it, and that’s who stood on her doorstep.
“Yowsa,” she said on an exhale.
He cocked a delighted brow. “Pardon?”
“May I help you?” Please say yes.
“I believe it’s the other way around.”
“Really?” Thankyouthankyouthankyou! “I mean… what do you mean?”
The timbre of his deep voice filled the space between them. “I’m here to help. Use me.”
Wait. This had to be a prank. “I get it. Mimi sent you.”
His brow furrowed. “Mimi? No.”
Patience waning, she heaved a sigh. “Who are you?”
“I think you know.” He leaned a ripped bicep against the doorjamb in a move that seemed scripted—by her.
“No. Tell me.”
“Jake? Ring a bell?”
She might have guessed. “Oh right. Jake Emerson?”
He clucked his tongue. “The one and only. I knew you’d recognize me anywhere.”
“Even at my own condo. Go figure. So why are you here? As a prop for the signing?” Damn, he fit the role perfectly, too. She couldn’t have picked a better actor. She jotted another note to ask Mimi if he could pose for the next cover. A cardboard cutout would be perfect for signings.
“Is that what you need?” he asked with a hint of disappointment.
She peered past him. “No bags?”
“I travel light.”
My newest release, "Across the Winds of Time," celebrates the last few years where I lived in the Midwest. Many of my ancestors are buried there.
Who wouldn't love to have a "helpless" nineteenth century man fall right into one's lap? I know I would!! If you can't "do," you write books. So, that's what I did...while I'm waiting for my nineteenth century man to travel forward in time for me.... :-) You can read the blurb and excerpt at the following link. http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=177_139&products_id=4621
And here are the links to two very lovely reviews for "Across the Winds of Time!" Please follow the links for the full reviews...
Great news arrived today. MUDDY WATERS, my latest romantic suspense, earned a smashing 5 Star review from Siren's Song Reviews. I'm over the moon about the review. Here it is:
Is someone watching her?
Roxie Whitaker is struggling to make her grandmother’s real estate business a success. When her coastal home is burglarized, her rosy worldview dims. Atlanta security expert Sloan Harding distracts her from her troubles, but is Mossy Bog’s former bad boy serious about her?
Never one to shy away from muddy waters, Sloan is determined to find his alleged missing inheritance. Sparks fly as he enters into a business arrangement with Roxie to oversee the restoration of his childhood home. With her help, Sloan resurrects old secrets while a dangerous predator stalks them.
My Notes: After reading the blurb I was interested to see about this lost treasure Sloan Harding was looking for. Is Sloan still the “bad boy” of the town? I had to find out.
Summary: Roxie is a real-estate broker in a small town in Georgia. The bad boy Sloan comes back to town to find his lost inheritance. A mysterious man from SC wants to buy Sloan’s home. Weird things start to happen once Sloan is back in town, things that might hurt Roxie in the long run. Who can she trust?
Review: I enjoyed this read for several reasons. The romance and the suspense worked well together. I was anxious to know about this lost treasure Sloan has always heard about, but never thought it really existed. I liked the banter between Roxie and Sloan—she kept him in his place.
At first they have a roller coaster relationship. They each find it hard to trust the other and misjudge a few things along the way. Sloan’s dog, Max, was cute as well. I loved the small town feel in Georgia. My mom is from a very small town in Georgia and I could relate to the charm and gossip. I like the writing style of this author. I will be looking for more books by her. I enjoyed the story and really didn’t want it to end. This is another book I can add to my tiny “read again” stack.
Don't miss this book or my other fab titles from The Wild Rose Press, House of Lies (now bargain priced) and No Second Chance! See my author page at TWRP: http://tinyurl.com/64ys5wv
Maggie Toussaint
Mix a bad boy in with small town gossip and a lost inheritance and you’ve got MUDDY WATERS
I've always admired adaptions and inspired by stories - when they are done well. There's something about taking elements or an overall story and making it your own which inspires and challenges my creativity.
The Beast's Redemption is one of those stories. A modern retelling of the Beauty and the Beast story. TBR is more of an "inspired" by story since it isn't a retelling, but contains elements from the original fairy tale.
One element I enjoyed playing with is the rose. Three roses appear and play an important part in The Beast's Redemption.
The Beast's Redemption by Angie Derek. A miniature rose from the Black Rose line.
Cursed shape shifter, Alexander Léandre, is resigned to his fate, but that doesn’t stop him from hunting down the descendants of the sorceress who bewitched him in hopes of obtaining a cure.
Belle Beaumont is used to men never looking past her curvy figure and pretty face. She dutifully agrees to befriend Alexander in order to protect her father’s herbal company.
A single touch changes all. Passions flare. When Belle discovers what Alexander is truly after and why, will she accept him for what he is? And will her love and family knowledge be enough to break a hundred-year-old curse?
Who wouldn't love to have a "helpless" nineteenth century man fall right into one's lap? I know I would!! If you can't "do," you write books. So, that's what I did...while I'm waiting for my nineteenth century man to travel forward in time for me.... :-)
While on a genealogical research journey through the Midwest, Molly Hamilton impulsively buys a 100-year-old Victorian house in the middle of a cornfield, and falls in love with the house’s owner...the original owner, that is. Can he be a ghost? The handsome, intriguing attorney certainly feels solid—and somehow her soul knows she has always loved him.
Darius Ferguson has no idea how he has come to present-day Iowa. The last thing he knew, the year was 1880, and he had just buried his fiancée, who happens to look exactly like Molly. He cannot separate the two women in his heart—to him, they are one.
In spite of being drawn to him, Molly thinks Darius is unhinged. Darius wonders if he has joined his fiancée in purgatory. If time travel is possible, will love be enough to build a future together?
I froze in place for a moment. It was definitely a man under the tree though I couldn’t see his face...and he knew my name.
“Do I know you?” I called in an unsteady voice. It seemed, though, as if my words were taken by the wind. Who was this man? And how did he know my name?
He moved away from the tree with a tentative step. His clothing was formal—a dark suit and white shirt—as if he had just been to a funeral. I hadn’t remembered seeing a canopy for a funeral on the grounds, but I wasn’t about to take my eyes off the stranger for one instant to confirm that suspicion.
I thought I saw a flash of white teeth from under his dark mustache, but he was still some distance away. Golden highlights in his chestnut hair caught the sunlight, and my mouth dropped open. He was undoubtedly one of the most handsome men I had ever seen in my life. My stomach rolled over at the sight of him, though not exclusively with admiration of his good looks. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead, and I put my hand to my mouth as if to hold back the morning’s breakfast...if I’d had any.
For here—in the flesh—was the man of my dreams. Not just any dreams. More specifically, my dreams of the previous evening. Yet I couldn’t for the life of me remember ever seeing him before until this moment.
“Be careful what you wish for,” I muttered behind the hand that covered my convulsing mouth.
“Molly, do not be frightened. I can see that you are. I do not want to scare you.” He took another step forward and held his hands up palms out...as if to show me he wasn’t armed, I thought hysterically, or to calm me down. Either way, it wasn’t working.
