by Jaime Rush
Weaving all those elements together is, for me, a labor of love. I love being able to work with something straight from my own mind, without having to footnote and document sources all the time. (In my other career—academia—they frown upon letting the voices in my head do the writing!) I love the flexibility of where and when I can indulge myself in a story—the deck, the kitchen island, the car, the beach, and any number of recliners are my favorite “offices.” I love seeing the stories unfold, being surprised by the twists and turns they take, and ultimately coming across them in their finished forms on the bookstore shelves. I love hearing from readers and being privy to their take on the story line or a character. I love meeting other writers and hobnobbing with the huge network of readers and writers out there who still love romantic suspense.
And I love getting to know new characters. I don’t create these people; they already exist when a story begins and it becomes my job to reveal them. I just go along for the ride as they play out their roles, and I’m repeatedly surprised and delighted by what they prove to be. And it never fails: I always fall in love.
Luke Mann, the hero in WHERE EVIL WAITS, was one of the most intriguing characters I have met and he turned out to be one of my all-time favorites. He first appeared in his brother’s book, Where Angels Rest , so I knew his hometown, his upbringing, his parents, and his siblings. But Luke himself came to me shrouded in shadows. I couldn’t wait to write his story; he was dark and fascinating and intense (not to mention gorgeous) and I knew from the start that his adventure would be a whirlwind ride. When I put him in an alley with his soon-to-be heroine, Kara Chandler—who shocked both Luke and me with a boldness I hadn’t expected—I fell in love with both of them. From that point on, WHERE EVIL WAITS was off and running, as Luke and Kara tried to elude and capture a killer as twisted and dangerous as the barbed wire that was his trademark.
The time Luke and Kara spend together is brief, but jam-packed with action, heat, and, ultimately, affection. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Happy Reading!
From the desk of Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Dear People Pets—Oops, sorry—I meant, Dear Readers,
Ever wonder what’s like to be God of the Sun, Ruler of the House of Gods, and the only deity against procreation with humans (an act against nature)?
Nah. Me neither. I want to know what it’s like to be his girlfriend. After all, how many guys house the power of the sun inside their seven-foot frames? And that hair. Long thick ribbons of sun-streaked caramel. And those muscles. Not an ounce of fat to be found on that insanely ripped body. As for the… eh-hem, the performance part, well, I’d like to know all about that, too.
Actually, so would Penelope. Especially after spending the evening with him, sipping champagne in his hotel room, and then waking up buck naked. Yes. In his bed. And yes, he’s naked, too. Yeah, she’d love to remember what happened. He wouldn’t mind, either.
But it seems that the only one who might know anything is Cimil, Goddess of the Underworld, instigator of all things naughty, and she’s nowhere to be found. I guess Kinich and Penelope will have to figure this out for themselves. So what will be the consequence of breaking these “rules” of nature Kinich fears so much? Perhaps the price will be Penelope’s life. But perhaps, just maybe, the price will be his…
Happy Reading!
From the desk of Marilyn Pappano
Dear Reader,
One of the pluses of writing the Tallgrass series was one I didn’t anticipate until I was neck-deep in the process, but it’s been a great one: unearthing old memories. Our Navy career was filled with laugh-out-loud moments, but there were also plenty of the laugh-or-you’ll-cry moments, too. We did a lot of laughing. Most of our tears were reserved for later.
Like our very first move to South Carolina, when the movers lost our furniture for weeks, and the day after it was finally delivered, my husband got orders to Alabama. On our second move, the delivery guys perfected their truck-unloading routine: three boxes into the apartment, one box into the front of their truck. (Fortunately, Bob had perfected his watch-the-unloaders routine and recovered it all.)
For our first apartment move-out inspection, we had scrubbed ourselves to nubbins all through the night. The manager did the walk-through, commented on how impeccably clean everything was, and offered me the paperwork to sign. I signed it, turned around to hand it to her, and walked into the low-hanging chandelier where the dining table used to sit, breaking a bulb with my head. Silently she took back the papers, thumbed through to the deduction sheet, and charged us sixty cents for a new bulb.
There’s something about being told my Oklahoma accent is funny by multi-generation Americans with accents so heavy that I just guessed at the context of our conversations. Or hearing our two-year-old Oklahomaborn son, home for Christmas, proudly singing, “Jaaangle baaaa-ulllz! Jaaan-gle baaaa-ulllz! Jaaan-gle alllll the waaay-uh!”
Bob and I still trade stories. Remember when we did that self-move to San Diego and the brakes went out on the rental truck in 5:00 traffic in Memphis at the start of a holiday weekend? Remember that pumpkin pie on the first Thanksgiving we couldn’t go home—the one I forgot to put the spices in? Remember dropping the kiddo off at the base day care while we got groceries and having to pay the grand sum of fifty cents two hours later? How about when you had to report to the commanding general for joint-service duty at Fort Gordon and we couldn’t find your Dixie cup anywhere in the truck crammed with boxes—and at an Army post, no less, that didn’t stock Navy uniforms?
Sea life was great. We watched ships leaving and, months later, come home again. On one homecoming, the kiddo and I watched Daddy’s ship run aground. We learned that all sailors look alike when they’re dressed in the same uniform and seen from a distance. We spied submarines stealthing out of their bases and toured warships—American, British, French, Canadian—and even got to board one of our own nuclear subs for a private look around.
The Navy gave us a lot to remember and a lot to learn. (Example: all those birthdays and anniversaries Bob missed didn’t mean a thing. It was the fact that he came home that mattered.) I still have a few dried petals from the flowers given to me by the command each time Bob reenlisted, as well the ones I got when he retired. We have a flag, like the one each of the widows in Tallgrass received, and a display box of medals and ribbons, but filled with much happier memories.
I can’t wait to see which old remember when the next book in this series brings us! I hope you love reading A MAN TO ON HOLD TO as much as I loved writing it.
Sincerely,
MarilynPappano.com
Twitter@MarilynPappano
Facebook.com/MarilynPappanoFanPage
From the desk of Shannon Richard
Dear Reader,
I knew how Brendan and Paige were going to meet from the very start. It was the first scene that played out in my mind. Paige was going to be having a very bad day on top of a very bad couple of months. Her Jeep breaks down in the middle of nowhere Florida, during a sweltering day, and she was to call someone for help. It’s when she’s at her lowest that she meets the love of her life; she just doesn’t know it at the time. As for Brendan, he isn’t expecting anyone like Paige to come along. Not now, not ever. But he knows pretty quickly that he has feelings for her, and that they’re serious feelings.
Paige can be a little sassy, and Brendan can be a little cocky, so during their first encounter sparks are flying all over the place. Things start to get hot quickly, and it has very little to do with summer in the South (which is hot and miserable, I can tell you from over twenty years of experience). But at the end of the day, and no matter the confrontation, Brendan is Paige’s white knight. He comes to her rescue in more ways than one.
The inspiration behind Brendan is a very laid-back Southern guy. He’s easygoing (for the most part) and charming. He hasn’t been one for long-term serious relationships, but when it comes to Paige he jumps
right on in. There’s just something about a guy who knows exactly what he wants, who meets the girl and doesn’t hesitate. Yeah, it makes me swoon more than just a little. I hoped that readers would appreciate that aspect of him. The diving in headfirst and not looking back, and Brendan doesn’t look back.
As for Paige, she’s dealing with a lot and is more than a little scared about getting involved with another guy. Her wounds are too fresh and deep from her recent heartbreak. Brendan knows all about pain and suffering. Instead of turning his back on her, he steps up to the plate. He helps Paige heal, helps her get a job and friends, helps her find a place in the little town of Mirabelle. It just so happens that her place is right next to his.
So yes, Brendan is this big, tough, alpha man who comes to the rescue of the damsel in distress. But Paige isn’t exactly a weak little thing. No, she’s pretty strong herself. It’s part of that strength that Brendan is so drawn to. He loves her passion and how fierce she is. But really, he just loves her.
I’m a fan of the happily ever after. Always have been, always will be. I love my characters; they’re part of me. They might exist in black and white on the page, but to me they’re real. At the end of the day, I just want them to be happy.
Cheers,
ShannonRichard.net
Twitter@Shan_Richard
Facebook.com/ShannonNRichard
From the desk of Jaime Rush
Dear Reader,
Much has been written about angels. When I realized that angels would be part of my mythology and hidden world, I knew I needed to make mine different. I didn’t want to use the religious mythos or pair them with demons. Many authors have done a fantastic job of this already.
In fact, I felt this way about my world in general. I started with the concept that a confluence of nature and the energy in the Bermuda Triangle had allowed gods and angels to take human form. They procreated with the humans living on the island and were eventually sent back to their plane of existence. But I didn’t want to draw on Greek, Roman, or Atlantean mythology, so I made up my own pantheon of gods. I narrowed them down to three different types: Dragons, sorcerers, and angels. Their progeny continue to live in the area of the Triangle, tethered there by their need to be near their energy source.
My angels come from this pantheon, without the constraints of traditional religious roles. They were sent down to the island to police the wayward gods, but succumbed to human temptation. And their progeny pay the price. I’m afraid my angels’ descendents, called Caidos, suffer terribly for their fathers’ sins. This was not something I contrived; these concepts often just come to me as the truths of my stories.
Caidos are preternaturally beautiful, drawing the desire of those who see them. But desire, their own and others’, causes them physical pain. As do the emotions of all but their own kind. They guard their secret, for their lives depend on it. To keep pain at bay, they isolate themselves from the world and shut down their sexuality. Which, of course, makes it all the more fun when they are thrown together with women they find attractive. Pleasure and pain is a fine line, and Kasabian treads it in a different way than other Caidos. Then again, he is different, harboring a dark secret that compounds his sense of isolation.
Perhaps it was slightly sadistic to pair him with a woman who holds the essence of the goddess of sensuality. Kye is his greatest temptation, but she may also be his salvation. He needs to form a bond with the woman who can release his dark shadow. I don’t make it easy on Kye, either. She must lose everything to find her soul. I love to dig deep into my characters’ psyches and mine their darkest shadows. Only then can they come into the light.
And isn’t that something we all can learn? To face our shadows so that we can walk in the light? That’s what I love most about writing: that readers, too, can take the journey of self discovery, self love, right along with my characters. They face their demons and come out on the other end having survived.
We all have magic in our imaginations. Mine has always contained murder, mayhem, and romance. Feel free to wander through the madness of my mind any time. A good place to start is my website, www.jaimerush.com , or that of my romantic suspense alter ego, www.tinawainscott.com.
From the desk of Amanda Scott
Dear Reader,
The plot of THE WARRIOR’S BRIDE, set in the fourteenth-century Scottish Highlands near Loch Lomond, grew from a law pertaining to abduction that must have seemed logical to its ancient Celtic lawmakers. I have little doubt that they intended that law to protect women.
However, I grew up in a family descended from a long line of lawyers, including my father, my grandfather, and two of the latter’s great-grandfathers, one of whom was the first Supreme Court justice for the state of Arkansas (an arrangement made by his brother, the first senator from Missouri, who also named Arkansas—so just a little nepotism there). My brother is a judge. His son and one of our cousins are defense attorneys. So, as you might imagine, laws and the history of law have stirred many a dinner-table conversation throughout my life.
When I was young, I spent countless summer hours traveling with my paternal grandmother and grandfather in their car, listening to him tell stories as he drove. Once, when I pointed out brown cows on a hillside, he said, “Well, they’re brown on this side, anyhow.”
That was my first lesson in looking at both sides of any argument, and it has served me well in my profession. This is by no means the first time I’ve met a law that sowed the seeds for an entire book.
Women, as we all know, are unpredictable creatures who have often taken matters into their own hands in ways of which men—especially in olden times—have disapproved. Thanks to our unpredictability, many laws that men have made to “protect” us have had the opposite effect.
The heroine of THE WARRIOR’S BRIDE is the lady Muriella MacFarlan, whose father, Andrew, is the rightful chief of Clan Farlan. A traitorous cousin has usurped Andrew’s chiefdom and murdered his sons, so Andrew means to win his chiefdom back by marrying his daughters to warriors from powerful clans, who will help him.
Muriella, however, intends never to marry. I based her character on Clotho, youngest of the three Fates and the one who is responsible for spinning the thread of life. So Murie is a spinner of threads, yarns… and stories.
Blessed with a flawless memory, Muriella aspires to be a seanachie , responsible for passing the tales of Highland folklore and history on to future generations. She has already developed a reputation for her storytelling and takes that responsibility seriously.
She seeks truth in her tales of historical events. However, in her personal life, Murie enjoys a more flexible notion of truth. She doesn’t lie, exactly. She spins.
Enter blunt-spoken warrior Robert MacAulay, a man of honor with a clear sense of honor, duty, and truth. Rob also has a vision that, at least for the near future, does not include marriage. Nor does he approve of truth-spinning.
Consequently, sparks fly between the two of them even before Murie runs afoul of the crazy law. I think you will enjoy THE WARRIOR’S BRIDE.
Meantime, Suas Alba!
Sincerely,
www.amandascottauthor.com
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13<
br />
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
An Excerpt from Dragon Awakened
An Excerpt from Magic Possessed
Also by Jaime Rush
Acclaim for Jamie Rush’s The Hidden Series
The Dish
Newsletters
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Tina Wainscott
Excerpt from Dragon Awakened copyright © 2013 by Tina Wainscott
Excerpt from Magic Possessed copyright © 2014 by Tina Wainscott
Cover design by Christine Foltzer
Cover photo by Claudio Marinesco
Cover copyright © 2014 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.