2009 has been an amazing year for me. It started with a challenge from my husband…try writing full-time for a year and see what comes out of it. So, here we are with the year almost complete and I’ve got numerous works in progress, but most importantly, I’ve gotten published!
My first short story, HIS SHIP, HER FANTASY, was released by The Wild Rose Press in August. HIS SHIP, HER FANTASY is part of the Faery Rose line. It is the first in a series entitled Mates of the Guardian. It’s a sweet romance that I hold dear to my heart because my own personal experience as an engineer is woven into the story.
Blurb for His Ship, Her Fantasy:
Ellie Woods is in love…with a ship. When an argument with the ship results in a bump on the head, she finds herself in the strong arms of Alastair. But, who is he, and where did he come from?
Alastair has loved Ellie from afar for years, but duty has kept him from revealing himself to her. When a grave threat reveals his true identity, he hopes that Ellie will choose reality over fantasy.
My second short story, HIS HOPE, HER SALVATION, will be released on December 16th through the Black Rose line. It is the second story in the Mates of the Guardians series. It’s a lot hotter than the first story, but that’s the way the characters’ demanded to be written.
Blurb for His Hope, Her Salvation:
Promised in marriage to an abusive oaf, Judith resolves to find out if there can be passion without love. Snatches of conversation overheard at the local inn lead her to a mysterious American merchant who might be able to satisfy her carnal curiosity and capture her heart.
Donovan, a Guardian Hunter, is on the trail of a rogue Elysian in Georgian England. As the son of the First Hunter, he long ago gave up hope of finding his heart's mate. When Judith appears in his study, his inner beast and his heart demand he answer her plea for help.
Will their passion answer their hearts' pleas, or will it wither under the threat of reality?
The voices in the taproom of the Horse and Hound deafened us as we entered. A large group of men stood packed together in the center of the room. A roar ripped through the crowd as it surged inward.
I shoved my way through the mass of sweaty bodies with Eallair following in my wake. I stopped when confronted with the scene that held the crowd enthralled.
A large, older, well-dressed gentleman gripped my mysterious guest from earlier by an elbow. He shook her and yelled, “You little whore!” He raised a hand and slapped her across the face with his open palm.
The crowd cheered as she collapsed to her knees, her shoulder wrenched as the hand on her elbow restrained her from crumbling into a heap on the floor.
The dead look in her eyes and the lack of any outward emotion testified to the regularity of similar scenes she must have suffered. With a bellow of rage, I swooped forward and scooped her to her feet just as the old man raised his hand to strike her again. Placing my body between them, I snarled, “Release her.”