Monthly Archives: July 2023
Come meet the men of Hardcore Inc.!
Please welcome Lyndi’s Adventurous Friend BRITT JONES!!!
Twelve Army Rangers are ambushed on their last mission and left to die. The survivors vow to seek revenge for the three who didn’t make it home.
Dedicated to serving their country, fellow soldiers and anyone unjustly attacked or abused. While they follow the trail of evidence to the group that betrayed them, they just might find love along the way.
Each story is a standalone with a complete and satisfying love story and a guaranteed HEA while adding one more piece of evidence to the puzzle leading them to expose murder, abuse, and corruption at the highest levels. The group responsible for the loss of their friends will not be fully exposed until the last book UNMASKED.
UNSCATHED
HEART OF A WOUNDED HERO
and
HARDCORE INC, Series Book Three
Protective Military Hero, Instalove, Romantic Suspense
BOOK
UNSCATHED
HARDCORE INC, Book 3
By Britt Jones
Stumbling onto evidence of a murder, she’s frantic to hide. But her hiding place allows her to overhear a conversation that turns deadly. When rescue comes in the form of a friendly patron at the bar where she works, she discovers she’s fallen down a rabbit hole of complex lies and deception.
An Ex-Ranger, he’d hoped to leave the nightmares behind. When his past throws him into the crosshairs along with eight other survivors of his team, he goes on the offensive. Innocent people are dying, targeted for information they don’t realize they’ve uncovered. Fighting against the clock to stay alive, he’s prepared for anything…anything but the women with blood on her hands.
Will hiding out keep them alive long enough to have a future?
Ambushed and left to die, they vowed to seek revenge.
Meet the men of: HARDCORE INC
Available at Amazon
UNSCATHED https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B3Q17K8Q
(Please note: this book was originally published as part of the HEART OF A WOUNDED HERO SERIES. It is also book 3 of the HARDCORE INC SERIES.)
Series Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BFNYBWCZ
UNSCATHED https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B3Q17K8Q
UNFIT https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BCHHDRLD
UNSCATHED https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B3Q17K8Q
(Crossover with the Heart of a Wounded Hero series)
UNFORGIVEN https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BCF5P31Y
UNSEEN https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BJMFDVZY
UNBOUND Releasing Soon
UNWANTED Following Soon
UNDONE Following Soon
UNMASKED Following Soon
EXCERPT:
Mattie
I half drag, half carry the overstuffed garbage bags down the hall and outside to the dumpster. At six foot three, Richard, my dick boss at Chuggers Bar, would be better suited to do this job. But as he says, he’s the boss and trash duty is for the hired help.
What was I thinking moving from San Francisco to Alexandria? My ditzy cousin talked me into moving because we both needed a new start.
Come live with me in Maryland. There’s plenty of jobs. Hot guys outnumber the women, and we could have some fun together.
I’d just caught my now ex-boyfriend in our bed with the new female associate at his law firm. His excuse, I wasn’t responsive in bed, and he needed more than a paper pusher at his side when he made partner. Yep, definitely time to move on.
The day I arrived, my cousin handed me the keys and lease to ‘our’ apartment and took off with her latest conquest who’d been reassigned to Fort Bragg. Since my cousin forged my name on the lease, I’m stuck here for another three months. After using most of my savings to relocate, there’s no way I can afford to move again. I’m barely making ends meet as it is.
I step onto the milk crate my boss so thoughtfully keeps by the dumpster so I can heft in the garbage. I grab the push broom I use to shove the bags from earlier to the side in order to make room for this next round. Glancing down, I see what looks like a Louis Vuitton bag. It’s probably a knock off, but still. I hook the strap with the broom and pull it out. There isn’t enough light to check its condition, so I drop it on the ground and toss my garbage. Then I sit on the milk crate and pull out my phone to use the flashlight.
I freeze when I hear Ames’ voice loud in the quiet of the night. The guy is a sleazy customer. I don’t trust him if he would find me out here alone.
“You stupid fuck. What do you mean you threw the purse in the dumpster? I told you to take it back to the car and we’d dispose of it in a safe place,” Ames grinds out.
“Sarge, I thought you said dump everything in different dumpsters!”
I hear what sounds like someone slamming into a car, then a scuffle and pained groan.
“You broke my nose.”
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll break your neck. Now get the purse.”
I glance down at the bag in my hand. Oh shit! What am I going to do? There’s no place for me to run and I’m afraid of what Ames will do if he sees me with the bag. What the hell are they doing with a purse anyway? Are they thieves? An irrational fear for my life grips me. Desperate, I crawl between the dumpster and the brick wall and try to make myself as small as possible.
I hear rummaging in the dumpster. Someone bumps into it hard and the heavy metal container pins me against the wall. I slap my hand over my mouth, so I don’t cry out. One more nudge and my cheek scrapes against the brick.
“Fuck. It should be right on top.”
“Wasn’t that waitress carrying trash out? Maybe she covered it up,” another voice chimes in. “Maybe she saw it and took it?
I swear my heart stops.
The door to the bar crashes open, spreading light onto my hiding place. If anyone bothers to look, I’m a sitting duck.
Richard, my boss, shouts. “Get the hell out of my trash. Are you the assholes that’ve been filling up my dumpster? I got you now and I’m calling the cops. My bill has almost doubled in the last month.”
My gaze is fixed on my boss when I see a shadow behind him shift. I squint harder and make out the image of River Rhodes staring right at me. He brings a finger to his lips, and I know he’s not going to out me.
Thank God. My racing heart slows a fraction. River is the nicest guy who comes into this dive. He never says much, but he’s a big tipper. That alone tells a girl he’s a decent guy.
“It’s not us loading our trash,” Ames says. “This idiot is drunk and walked into your dumpster. His five-hundred-dollar sunglasses went flying into the bin. I’m just helping him search.”
“Not anymore you aren’t. Get the hell out of here or you’ll be explaining to the cops.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” Ames replies. “Guess next time he’ll pay closer attention. I better get him home before he loses anything else.”
I listen as their footfalls stomp away and two engines start up. I’m afraid to crawl out before they drive off. Once they do, Richard goes back inside. I try to shift and crawl out, but I’m stuck and can’t move the heavy bin.
“Stop moving. I’ll get you out.”
“River?” I confirm, recognizing his voice.
“Yeah. Just give me a minute.”
Want more? Follow me on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Britt-Jones/e/B0B3PT38SR
Meet the Author: Britt Jones
Britt Jones lives in the Big Apple where story inspiration is just a walk out the door.
She writes short and steamy Instalove Romance. The heroes are protective and devoted. The heroines are strong and independent. The stories are hot with a guaranteed HEA.
Her HARDCORE INC Series adds a little suspense and danger to the mix.
You can find Britt here:
Website: https://www.brittjonesauthor.com/
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/s8s9d7
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Britt-Jones-Author-113675198023227
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Britt-Jones/e/B0B3PT38SR
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/151856786-britt-jones
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/4190954017
Bernadette Jones, Britt’s alter ego, writes longer Romantic Suspense. Bernadette has a series within a series under the series brand, Aspen Gold Series.
You can find Bernadette here:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Bernadette-Jones/e/B07ZY84C6K
Website: https://www.bernadettejones.com/
Who’s an author by any other name?
Hi! I’m LizAnne Axtel. One of the biggest adventures in an author’s life can be the creation of a pen name. Sometimes pen names are used to keep an author’s private life completely separate from their writing life. I’m not one of those authors so I like to keep my writerly names easy to remember, easy to sign in the front of a book, and easy to answer to in conversations.
When the other writerly me (*lizzie starr) decided to break into the steamy short story, insta-love market, she decided a new name was needed. Sometimes creating a new identity is easy. It was for *lizzie anyway.
LizAnne took a lot more thought.
After some unsuccessful experimentation with combinations of names, I settled on the nickname my aunts and uncles use. To make it a little different and hopefully visually unique, I put the two names together but still capitalized Anne. For the last name I chose a name drawn from family history. And LizAnne Axtel was born.
My first steamy short was part of a multi-author collaboration: Heart of a Wounded Hero. I’d had my story, Makin’ History in my mind for a long time and this series was the perfect place for it. Since then, I’ve added three more stories to my Turquoise Creek Ranch series, and there’s more to come. I’m working on one titled Makin’ Whoopie right now and hope to have it available early this fall.
Until then, here’s a little bit about the first of the series Makin’ History.
Find the fortune of your heart’s desire at Turquoise Creek Ranch
Makin’ History blurb:
A chance meeting with a sexy biker turns into a night of passion hotter than the summer sun. Will they make their own history… together?
Micah Taylor fought hard for his country and came home with the scars to prove it. He loved faithfully, but his wife defected to a more interesting man, leaving even deeper wounds. Unresolved guilt colors his thoughts and not even capturing the world with his camera calms his restlessness.
After dumping a man who expected her to pay his bills, Dilyn Cordova set out alone on what was supposed to be an inspirational, history-filled adventure. As the end of her vacation nears, she’s become disenchanted with her lonely travels.
A chance meeting with a sexy biker turns into a night of passion hotter than the summer sun. Even though there’s danger in falling for a man with a carefree spirit, she agrees to spend the next weekend with Micah. She’ll keep her heart safe from repeating her past mistakes.
Micah always fights hard for what he wants, and he wants her. Now and forever. Will pride, insecurities, and suspicions keep them from creating their own history–together?
A short excerpt:
Dilyn
With a slight limp, a lanky man crosses the room to sit at the counter. He lays a leather jacket on the stool next to him then leans forward to talk to the woman behind the counter. A broad, masculine back covered in worn cotton, his muscles bunch and relax with his movements. My lunch forgotten, I stare at the delightful eye candy, barely resisting the urge to fan myself. Has it just gotten hotter in here?
The waitress sets a large glass of iced tea before him. After taking a long swallow, he glances from side to side. With slow, casual ease, he turns on the stool, leans his elbows back on the counter and scans the room. I hold my breath, but his gaze passes over me. Disappointment settles low in my belly.
Just as slowly his gaze returns. Our eyes meet. He smiles.
Erotic recognition tingles over my skin. I want, no, I need to reach for him. To touch him. As he tilts his head to study me, I dig my fingers into the edge of the crackly seat cushion
Greedily I return his steady gaze, committing the angles of his face to memory. Dark brown hair just a tad longer than I normally like sweeps back from his face. A single silver stud glints in one earlobe. Parched, I fumble for my glass and take a drink, but the water does little to cool my reaction.
The buzz of conversation fades until there is only the two of us. Time slows. Stands still. I have no clue how long we stare at each other until he arches one eyebrow.
I swallow hard and holding his gaze, take another drink.
Heat flares in his light eyes. A tiny adjustment in his smile gives him a sexy, knowing smirk. He lifts his glass in a salute.
My face burns. My nipples tighten and I drop my gaze. Hunching my shoulders to lessen the teasing caress of my sundress, I squeeze my thighs together. Just one glance from him and I’m squirming. Wet.
I can’t help myself. I peek at him from under my lashes. He stands and leans over the counter to pay his bill. Slim hips. Firm ass covered in worn denim. I can’t stop staring. Wanting.
He grabs his leather jacket and swings it over one shoulder. Only bikers and crazy Goth teenagers wear leather in the heat of a Nebraska summer. I sigh. He’s definitely not a teenager. So, a biker. I’ve never been attracted to a biker.
Before he pushes open the door, he glances back—at me. He smiles. Growing need clenches deep and low in my body. Tendrils of lust curl through me. He tilts his head and I think, hope, pray he’s considering coming over to talk to me.
He blinks and the spell binding us is broken. Still, it takes a long time for him to reach for the door handle. Trapped in a sensual limbo, I struggle with common sense to keep from going after him.
He disappears through the door, and I take a shallow breath, imagining the scents of leather, of summer heat, and man. I close my eyes to savor the thrill.
Instead, my ex crowds into my thoughts. Aw hell, the perfect damper for my hormones’ wishful thinking. He would have made nasty comments about the café, the farmers. And the biker. Craig hadn’t cared about much of anything except himself or his so-called art projects. But until last spring, his warm body had been there for me.
Compared to the thrum still dancing along my skin from just a stranger’s smile, Craig hadn’t been all that great in the sex department either.
Once his wandering eye had settled on someone else, I moved my stuff to a tiny apartment. He’d called once. To demand I pay rent for the part of the month before I’d moved out. I refused. So, he blocked my calls and deleted himself from my social media. I didn’t even get to enjoy the tiny triumph of erasing him from my life.
Hopefully he and his new girlfriend enjoy the exclusive Caribbean vacation I’d planned and paid for before I caught him cheating. The cost of the tickets and hotel are worth getting rid of him. I straighten my back and stab a piece of chicken. I don’t need a man in my life. I’m perfectly capable of surviving on my own.
So, here I am. Alone. Taking a solitary trip along remote rural highways. Eating meals by myself and spending the nights wishing someone was lying beside me. At least I’ve got toys in my suitcase for relief. And tonight, a perfect, leather-clad fantasy.
My unruly thoughts drift to my mother. She’d always had a man, even when that man wasn’t a good choice for her. Or for me. I may have her penchant for attracting losers, but I’ll be damned if I follow in her footsteps. I will not be needy.
I turn my attention to my lunch. The lettuce in my salad is crisp, the diced chicken cooked perfectly. But it tastes like cardboard. I give up the pretense of eating to stare out the window. With the big truck gone, I can watch the man my body desires without anyone noticing.
He lays his jacket across the seat of a strange looking bike. Nothing like the Harleys or street bikes I recognize. This bike is turquoise and ivory, with shiny chrome and distressed brown leather. Like the rider, it’s sexy. Sexy? A motorcycle? What an odd thought. Maybe I’m projecting my appraisal of the man to his ride.
Animated, he speaks to a small cluster of children whose parents stand nearby trying to look like they aren’t interested when he gestures toward the bike. I haven’t even heard his voice, but I easily imagine the passion in his words.
Passion. I shift uncomfortably. After seeing him, I’m forced to admit I’m lonely. Big time. For a relationship. Hell, right now I’m ready for a one-night stand in a small-town motel.
The families wander away and my biker shrugs into his jacket. My biker. It feels right to think of him as mine. I pick up my water and press the cool glass to my cheek.
In a smooth, lithe movement he mounts his bike.
I nearly drop the glass. Water splashes everywhere. Shoving my journal out of the way, I pat at the wet spot on the table then use another napkin to dry my arm. An erotic picture forms in my mind as my biker settles into the vehicle’s saddle. Him, the same confidence, the same natural grace, as he rises over me. Settles in me.
He leans to one side adjusting something I can’t see, then sits for a moment with his helmet perched on the tank. He glances toward the café, and I feel an almost physical caress. No, I’m just imagining what I want to feel.
Muffled by the glass, the cycle roars to life. Disappointment, sharp and ragged slams into me. Fantasies have no place in my life. Besides, I’ll never see my biker again.
The thought hurts more than I expect.
~*~
Makin’ History is available to purchase or read on Kindle Unlimited https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B3YZ6PYN
The Heart of the Wounded Hero series was created to pay tribute to and raise awareness of our wounded heroes. Each of the over eighty authors involved have contributed time, money, and stories to the cause. These love stories are inspiring and uplifting, showing the sacrifice of our veterans but also giving them the happily ever after they deserve.
By increasing awareness through our books, we believe we can in a small part help the wounded heroes that have sacrificed so much.
Authors of The Heart of a Wounded Hero series are proud supporters of Semper Fi & America’s Fund. To learn more about the Heart of a Wounded Hero series, check out the website at https://heartofawoundedhero.com/
Find LizAnne here:
Sign up for her newsletter for the free prequel to the Turquoise Creek Ranch series Makin’ A Scene. https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/p3u2m5
Website: www.lizanneaxtel.com
Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/author/lizanneaxtel
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22481968.LizAnne_Axtel
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lizanne-axtel
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LizAnneAxtel
Waiting for the Son
Living After Midnight Series, Book 3
Cheyenne, the half-human son of the Monarch, is getting beaten up on the regular. He’s also fighting with his weretiger boyfriend, holding down his gig in the city’s premier nightclub, and taking care of his kids. Adulting is more complicated than he thought it would be.
Someone close to the Monarch is putting the supernatural races at risk. With everyone in his inner circle under suspicion, he asks his son for help unearthing the traitor.
Cheyenne declines. He doesn’t have the bandwidth, and politics is not his thing.
When his father’s troubles escalate, Cheyenne has no choice but to get involved. If he succeeds, the traitor will be exposed. If he fails, his father will die, and the backstabber will be free to lift the veil of secrecy that protects them all.
Waiting for the Son is the third book in the LGBTQ urban fantasy series Living After Midnight.
Warning: This book features quirky supernatural creatures, a luncheon that makes an orgy look like a made-for-TV movie and an incubus who makes you hope what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
Excerpt
Waiting for the Son
The standing-room-only crowd at Underhill had been into his new songs. Guys and girls alike had been in sync with him, swaying when he swayed and smiling when he smiled. His skin tingled with all the positive energy—until a voicemail from Unakite City Elementary School sucked all the happy out of him.
Cheyenne thumbed off his phone and tossed it onto the sofa in his dressing room. No sense in getting His footsteps echoed as he made his way through the empty club to the alarm panel. Eric, the manager, appreciated the chance to leave early, ensuring he made it to wherever he lay to rest before the sun came up.
Chey didn’t like the vampire and owed him no favors. He didn’t have to be the last to leave, and Eric knew it. Chey stayed when it worked for him, either because a fan-with-benefits caught his eye or he needed extra time to come down from the post-concert high.
He punched in his code and turned on the alarm. A sense of peace washed over him as the whirring of the industrial fans slowed, the florescent blue lights faded, and internal doors locked with a mechanical swoosh that reverberated throughout the cavernous building. The click-click of the alarm system started a rhythmic chant signaling it was time to leave or risk being trapped inside.
The club’s rear double doors closed behind him with a clang. Underhill’s parking was never adequate for the number of people attending his shows, but Cheyenne always arrived early to be sure he parked close to the building. With his history of getting jumped in alleys and parking lots, he wasn’t taking any chances. At least Gre’gori, the owner, had installed adequate lighting.
He headed to the Cutlass, his ever-faithful ride. She stood waiting right where he left her, dependable if not shiny and new. Not that a bit of wear and tear was a problem. It kept anyone from thinking she was worth stealing or vandalizing. One day he’d be able to afford a new ride, something bigger and fancier, but even then, he’d keep this pretty green thing, maybe give her to the kids one day so she’d stay in the family. But for now, she was all his, like his guitar, the other important inanimate object in his life.
“Hey there, sweetness.” He patted her roof affectionately, placed his guitar case on the passenger seat, and froze. The acrid taste of challenge and jealousy, something like burnt marshmallow and ash, assaulted his senses.
Jeeze. Not again. Was the entire population of incubi out to kill him?
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/waiting-for-the-son
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/waiting-for-the-son-trevann-rogers/1143735202?ean=2940160983226
https://books.apple.com/us/book/waiting-for-the-son/id6450937140
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/trevann-rogers
www.facebook.com/trevannr
www.pinterest.com/trevannr
https://www.trevannrogers.com/about
http://www.twitter.com/trevannrogers
About Trevann
Trevann Rogers writes rock star romances, urban fantasy, and LGBT paranormal romances. Her books include HOUSE OF THE RISING SON and AFTER MIDNIGHT: The Beginning.
Her short stories appear in the anthologies Dangerous Curves Ahead: An Anthology, and Wickedly Ever After.
Each story incorporates an unquenchable addiction to music and Trevann’s love for vampires, Weres, incubi and rock stars. She writes long after the sun goes down because, like these elusive creatures, she learned long ago that sometimes being yourself means Living After Midnight.
Trevann lives in Connecticut with Toby, her 10-year-old rescue puppy, and Lil Monkey, a sock monkey who thinks he’s real but refuses to chip in on the mortgage.
Trevann’s internet home is www.trevannrogers.com/about
Social Media
www.bookbub.com/profile/trevann-rogers
For up-to-date information about releases www.subscribepage.com/enter_livingaftermidnight
On the subject of book themes
PLEASE WELCOME LYNDI’S ADVENTUROUS FRIEND JILL PISCITELLO!!
Every novel has an underlying theme. A Sour Note features down-on-her-luck sleuth, Maeve Cleary. Unemployed and fresh out of places to go, she returns to her mother’s home to recover from a broken engagement. Here, we see the common theme of someone making a fresh start and rebuilding their life. Her interactions with a high school sweetheart bring to mind the second chances or rekindled romance tropes. And of course, there is a mystery to solve, so readers can expect a theme of attaining justice for the victim and those falsely accused.
Sure, each component has its own fan base of readers. But I wanted Maeve’s story to feel unique. Many times, heroines are victims recovering from the impact of someone else’s actions. This cozy offers a touch of the blame game in the form of Maeve’s cheating ex-fiancé. But most of the story shows her coming to the realization that she is responsible for her own happiness. Taking risks that didn’t pay off and attaching herself to people she didn’t particularly like in the name of fitting in led to a job resignation, an identity crisis, and credit card debt up to her eyeballs.
But risks are not mistakes. Maeve is learning to accept the last decade as a period of growth, not a string of regrets. Chances are meant to be taken whether they result in glittering success or landing flat on your face. Both sides of the coin have a life lesson to offer.
Hampton Beach, NH provides a bright, beautiful background for Maeve’s journey as she navigates the discovery of a corpse, accusations, and a charming group of family, friends, and neighbors. With a clairvoyant cousin and a type A mother doling out unsolicited advice, readers are in for a few laughs in this lighthearted, twisty mystery.
Author name: Jill Piscitello
Book Title: A Sour Note (A Music Box Mystery)
Genre: Cozy Mystery
TAGLINE:
When murder provides a welcome distraction…
Blurb:
On the heels of a public, broken engagement, Maeve Cleary returns to her childhood home in Hampton Beach, NH. When a dead body turns up behind her mother’s music school, three old friends land on the suspect list. Licking her wounds soon takes a back seat to outrunning the paparazzi who spin into a frenzy, casting her in a cloud of suspicion. Maeve juggles her high school sweetheart, a cousin with a touch of clairvoyance, a no-nonsense detective, and an apologetic, two-timing ex-fiancé. Will the negative publicity impact business at the Music Box— the very place she’d hoped to make a fresh start?
EXCERPT:
With his mouth set in a grim line, he waited.
If anyone else had enough nerve to presume she owed them an explanation, she would respond with a solid mind your own business. Instead, the seventeen-year-old still inside her refused to tell him to get lost. “He was hiding money in his office.” This was one of those times when learning how to wait a few beats before blurting out inflammatory information would come in handy. Each second of passing silence decreased her ability to breathe in the confined space. She turned the ignition and switched on the air conditioner.
“How do you know?” His volume just above a whisper, each dragged-out word hung in the air.
“I found it.”
“When were you in his office?” He swiped at a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face, then positioned a vent toward him.
“Last night.” When would she learn to bite her tongue? Finn’s switch from rapid-fire scolding to slow, deliberate questioning left her unable to swallow over the sandpaper lump in her throat.
“Where was Vic?”
She stared at the back of the building, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. “He’d left for the night.” If she averted her gaze, she could pretend his eyeballs weren’t bugging out of his head, and his jaw didn’t need a crane to haul it off his chest.
“You were at the town hall after hours? Did anyone see you?”
“A custodian opened his door for me.” She snuck a glance. Sure enough, features contorted in shock and horror replaced his boy-next-door good looks.
Jill Piscitello is a teacher, author, and an avid fan of multiple literary genres. Although she divides her reading hours among several books at a time, a lighthearted story offering an escape from the real world can always be found on her nightstand.
A native of New England, Jill lives with her family and three well-loved cats. When not planning lessons or reading and writing, she can be found spending time with her family, trying out new restaurants, traveling, and going on light hikes.
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The magic of creating a wonderful story
Please welcome Lyndi Alexander’s Adventurous Friend TERRY NEWMAN!
The key to every good story is that it sounds like it flowed from the author’s mind in one long, beautifully written, session. Most readers don’t realize the amount of effort that goes into writing a story that sounds effortless.
Perhaps the most time-consuming part is just developing an idea. Ever wonder where authors pull their ideas from? And how they decide what direction to take their characters? Well, you’re in luck, because you’re about to get a mini-session on how The Wizard of her Heart came to be.
This book is part of The Wild Rose Press’s series, Jellybeans and Spring Things. It started with two requirements. It had to take place in the spring and jelly beans had to be part of the story. That narrows it down some. Not.
Jelly beans. How could you put jelly beans into a story? You could count them; you could eat them…wait. Yes, you could eat them. What if you ate a handful of jelly beans and fell in love? As a paranormal romance author, that concept appealed to me.
But then you just can’t eat a jelly bean and find your true love unless someone does something to them. That’s when I decided that “someone” should be a wizard (because it seemed like stories about witches were overdone) and he should cast a spell over them.
That’s how Wyatt Ginn was born, wizard and owner of the paranormal publishing company, The Mercurial Quill Press in Zen, Ohio. And he seems to be quite famous in town. People accept his talents and even seek out his services. He simply recites a short affirmation over a small bag and poof, the recipient is ready to find their love.
But what’s a good story without at least a little bit of conflict? So I created Sydney Thomas, Wyatt’s new social media director. She has just come out of a bad marriage and bitter divorce. She doesn’t have time in her life for magic. While she thinks Wyatt’s delusional, she does find him attractive. Damn sexy, actually. You can see the dilemma she finds herself in.
Once I have chosen the main characters and their conflict, I’m still not quite done. I love to bring in offbeat, even quirky secondary characters. This story has several, including an author who writes about alien abductions.
And while The Wizard of her Heart reads as if I wrote it in one sitting, I can tell you I didn’t. I wrote this scene by scene, taking scenes out or adjusting them because a 3 a.m. idea came to me after I’d written 15,000 words. Scenes that I thought would take me one place ended up taking a completely different turn.
But I loved every minute of it. Writing is messy. Creativity doesn’t take you to your destination in a straight line. But it’s an exceptional journey, one I willingly and gladly take.
Website
https://terrynewmanauthor.com/
Facebook: Terry Newman
https://www.facebook.com/NewmanWrites
Twitter: @tnewmanwrites
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/terry.newman.31521/
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@terrynewman614
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60574351-heartquake?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=99H2V7dnWm&rank=1
Bookbub: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60574351-heartquake?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=99H2V7dnWm&rank=1
Buy links:
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-wizard-of-her-heart-terry-newman/1143421915?ean=2940160950365
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-wizard-of-her-heart
Google Play Books: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Terry_Newman_The_Wizard_of_her_Heart?id=owfAEAAAQBAJ
Bio
Two things you should know about me: I have an offbeat sense of humor and characters are constantly talking to me, trying to get me to tell their stories. Other than that, I’m a normal person.
I’ve spent most of my adult life writing in some fashion, from small-town reporter, to editor-in-chief and ghostwriter for a national natural health publishing firm. The last decade and a half I’ve worked as a freelance writer, penning ebooks that range from starting a doula services business to Native American herbs.
I’ve finally took the plunge to fiction after pushing, oh, so many doubts aside. My first novel with The Wild Rose Press, Heartquake, won a 4.5 crowned heart review with Ind’tale Magazine.
All my books are set in fictional towns in northeast Ohio, where I grew up, and I write about things I love—like coffee.
I have a daughter, a son-in-law, and a grandpuppy and live in North Lima, a real town in northeast Ohio with all my characters. Yes, it does get crowded.
Lyndi Alexander's worlds of fancy 