Happy Valentine’s Day and welcome to Authors’ Secrets Valentine Special with a fun and flirty Candy Hearts Romance, Charm Me. It’s on SALE for 99 cents! Set in the Colorado Rocky Mountains is a story close to my heart. I penned this story while taking my dog, Mystic, to agility classes. In her class there was a rescue dog owned by a yoga instructor, and Summer Riley was born.
The other dimension of the story came about as I took a woman’s gun class to get my concealed carry permit. Thus retired Navy SEAL Devlin was thrust into the story. What better way to bring these two opposites together than Summer feeling the need to protect herself by signing up for a weapons class.
Though Summer is a talented Elemental witch, she feels it necessary to defend herself in the mortal way in the mortal world. But wait, Devlin is not exactly as he appears.
Then as things heat up, a cross-country ski trip at his cabin in Dividie, Colorado brings in Valentine’s Day magic to the story. Pick up your copy today for only 99¢ until February 16th, 2018.
Psssst…. I’ll let you in on a little secret. There is a sequel in the works, so make sure you check back often.
A little more about Charm Me.
Summer Dawn Riley’s an extraordinary elemental witch whose troubled past haunts her. She’s created a calm life for herself teaching yoga and keeping people at a distance. Her life takes a one eighty degree turn when she enrolls in a women’s weapons class and meets ruggedly handsome Devlin Sawyer.
Devlin, a former Navy Seal, has sworn off women after two long-term failed relationships, but there is no denying his attraction to Summer. She intrigues him like no other woman ever has. Despite her attempts to ignore him, Summer is drawn to Devlin. His magic signature is strong, but he’s no warlock. Will Valentine’s Day magic find them a future together?
A peek between the page of Charm Me.
Getting to her feet, she brushed the dust from her black yoga pants, tugged at the bottom of her bright orange tunic, and flipped the light switch on. A soft glow of florescent lighting flooded the large room, soothing Summer’s nerves. Guess she would never be the same carefree individual she was before the incident. Oh, shake it off. You’re safe and it’s time to get on with life. “Come on Pip, let’s get this place open.”
A massive stone fireplace towered in the corner. She picked up an arm full of wood and flung it in the general direction. Logs landed in the fire pit and neatly arranged themselves in a tepee shape. With a magic flick of her finger toward the hearth, flames raced up the aspen logs. “That’s better.”
She raised her arms, about to send the yoga mats back to their proper place when the heavy wooden front door creaked open. Piper rushed toward the door, teeth bared and a growl rumbled in her throat. Summer whirled around and yelped as Devlin ambled into the room, black hair tousled and glistening with melting snowflakes. His nonchalance at the dog’s approach surprised her as he slowed to a stop. Piper sniffed around him, backed up a few inches, then stood at alert in front of Devlin.
“You scared the bejeebers out of me.” Summer held her hand to her chest as her heart thundered.
“What are you doing here?”
“Call your guard dog off and I’ll tell you.” The corners of Devlin’s mouth curved up into a smile, a faint light twinkled in the depths of his dark eyes.
“Piper, leave it…come.” The dog gave Devlin a last sideways glance, trotted back to Summer and sat at her side.
About the author:
Best-selling and award-winning author, Tena Stetler pens paranormal romance and cozy mysteries. She has an over-active imagination, which led to writing her first vampire romance as a tween to the chagrin of her mother and delight of her friends. After many years as a paralegal, then an IT Manager, she decided to live out her dream of pursuing a publishing career.
With the Rocky Mountains outside her window, she sits at her computer surrounded by a wide array of witches, shapeshifters, demons, faeries, and gryphons, with a Navy SEAL or two mixed in telling her their tales. Her books tell stories of magical kick-ass women and mystical alpha males that dare to love them. Well, okay there are a few companion animals to round out the tales.
Colorado is home; shared with her husband of many moons, a brilliant Chow Chow, a spoiled parrot and a forty-five-year-old box turtle. When she’s not writing, you can find her kayaking, camping, hiking, biking or just relaxing in the great Colorado outdoors. During the winter sometimes she’s curled up in front of a crackling fire with a good book, a mug of hot chocolate and a big bowl of popcorn.
She loves to chat with readers and other authors, please visit her at :
Authors’ Secret’s Blog – http://www.tenastetler.com/category/authors-secrets-blog/
My Say What Blog – http://www.tenastetler.com/category/my-say-what-blog/
Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/tenastetler.author
Twitter Page: www.twitter.com/TenaStetler
The Wild Rose Press: http://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/1264_tena-stetler
Tribber – http://triberr.com/TenaStetler
Hope your Valentine’s Day is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Need a last minute gift, Charm Me is a great quick read and comes in audible. What more can you ask for?
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Candy Hearts Romance, Charm Me, Fun and Flirty, Paranormal Romance, Valentines Day by firstname.lastname@example.org with no comments yet.
Give a warm welcome to Sharon Ashwood, author of Enchanter Redeemed
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Sharon Ashwood and Enchanter Redeemed!
What defines you as an author? As a person? Are they one in the same?
I don’t think it’s possible to separate the two. I believe authors look at the world with a great deal of curiosity and empathy. To them, every person and place is a story with deep history and interconnections with all these other stories going on. All things become possible by simply asking, “What if?” It’s actually kind of comical being in a car with a bunch of authors—an innocent bystander becomes the kernel of a murder mystery in the time it takes to turn the corner.
What inspired this particular story?
Enchanter Redeemed is the enchanter Merlin’s story. He is King Arthur’s magician in Camelot, and I don’t see him as an old wizard, but as a strong, passionate warrior. I was inspired to write this particular tale because I was intrigued by the traditional story of Merlin falling in love with the enchantress, Vivian. I kept wondering who Vivian was to capture his heart and went from there. In the original he gets trapped in a tree for a zillion years, but my version takes a unique turn. I wanted to write a story about compassion and forgiveness, but also with some humor. Laughter is part of the healing process, after all.
What secret do you use to blast through writer’s block?
Writer’s block usually happens if I’m tired or I don’t know where I’m going with a story. So, if I’m stuck I’ll try to get a good night’s sleep, get out of the house, get some fresh air, and then sit down and start asking hard questions about the plot. Nine times out of ten that does the trick. In an emergency, I binge watch TV. Sometimes taking in a lot of random stories shakes something loose (or at least that’s my excuse).
What do you want your readers to take away from your books?
First, I want readers to find a few hours of escape in my stories. We all need that! Second, I write characters who find love, of course—but also courage, self-acceptance, and a way to live with each other’s differences. I like to think I’m spreading a tiny bit of harmony into the world by their example.
You’ve got a time machine, a cloak of invisibility, and one hour. Where would you go, and what eavesdropping would you do?I’d love to be present on the night Lord Byron, Mary and Percy Shelley, Dr. Polidori, and their friends sat around telling ghost stories. Frankenstein came out of that session, as well as Polidori’s The Vampyre. That must have been some evening!
A Peek Between the Pages of Enchanter Redeemed Camelot Reborn, Book Four
Clary jolted awake. Power surged through her body, painful and suffocating. Her spine arched into it—or maybe away from it, she wasn’t sure. Merlin had one hand on her side and the other on her chest, using his magic like a defibrillator. The sensation hammered her from the inside while every hair on her body stood straight up. When he released her, she sagged in relief. A drifting sensation took over, as if she were a feather in an updraft.
Merlin’s fingers went to her neck, checking for a pulse. His hands were hot from working spells, the touch firm yet gentle. In her weakened state, Clary shivered slightly, wanting to bare her throat in surrender. She was a sucker for dark, broody masculinity and he projected it like a beacon. All the same, Clary sucked in a breath before he got any big ideas about mouth-to-mouth. If Merlin was going to kiss her, she wanted wine and soft music, not blood and the dirty workshop floor.
Another bolt of power, more pain, another pulse check. Clary managed a moan, and she heard the sharp intake of Merlin’s breath. His hand withdrew from her pulse point as she forced her eyes open. He was staring down at her with his peculiar amber eyes, dark brows furrowed in concern. She was used to him prickly, arrogant or sarcastic, but not this. She’d never seen that oddly vulnerable expression before—but it quickly fled as their gazes met.
“You’re alive.” He said it like a fact, any softness gone.
“Yup.” Clary pushed herself up on her elbows. She hurt all over. “What was that?”
“I got that much.” Clary held up her arm, peering through the rents in her jacket where the demon’s claws had slashed. Merlin’s zap of power had stopped the bleeding, but the deep scratches were red, puffy and hurt like blazes.
“Demon claws are toxic.”
“Got that, too.”
“I can put a salve on the wound, but you’d be smart to have Tamsin look at it,” Merlin said. “Your sister is a better healer than I am.”
“She’s better than anybody.” Clary said it with the automatic loyalty of a little sister, but it was true. “She’s got a better bedside manner, too.”
Merlin raised a brow, his natural arrogance back in place. “Just be glad you’re alive.”
She studied Merlin, acutely aware of how much magic he’d used to shut the demon down. He looked like a man in his early thirties, but there was no telling how old he actually was. He was lean-faced with permanent stubble and dark hair that curled at his collar. At first glance, he looked like a radical arts professor or dot-com squillionaire contemplating his next disruptive innovation. It took a second look to notice the muscular physique hidden by the comfortable clothes. Merlin had a way of sliding under most radars, but Clary never underestimated the power he could pluck out of thin air. She was witch born, a member of the Shadowring Coven, but he was light years beyond their strongest warlocks.
That strength was like catnip to her—although she’d never, ever admit that out loud. “What were you doing?” she demanded, struggling the rest of the way to a sitting position.
“I was watching the demons through a scrying portal when you interrupted me.” His tone was precise and growing colder with every syllable. Now that the crisis was over, he was getting angry.
“The she-demon tried to kill me.” Clary’s insides hollowed as the words sank home. Dear goddess, she did kill me! And Merlin had brought her back before a second had passed—but it had happened. Her witch’s senses had felt it happen. The realization left her light-headed.
“She doesn’t get to have you,” he said in a low voice.
Their gazes locked, and something twisted in Clary’s chest. She’d been hurt on Merlin’s watch, and he was furious. No, what she saw in his eyes was more than icy anger. It was a heated, primal possessiveness that came from a far different Merlin than she knew. Clary’s breath stopped. Surely she was misreading the situation. Death and zapping had scrambled her thoughts.
“I shouldn’t have walked in on you.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” he said in a voice filled with the same mix of ice and fire. “You’d be a better student of magic if you paid attention. You asked me to teach you proper magic and not the baby food the covens use. Real magic is deadly.”
Abruptly, he stood and crossed the room to kick a shard of agate against the wall. It bounced with a savage clatter. Clary got to her feet, her knees wobbling. He spun and stormed back to her in one motion, moving so fast she barely knew what was happening.
He took her by the shoulders, the grip rough. “Don’t ever do that again!”
And then his mouth crushed hers in a hard, angry kiss. Clary gasped in surprise, but there was no air, only him, and only his need. She rose slowly onto her toes, the gesture both surrender and a desire to hold her own. She’d been kissed many times before, but never consumed this way. His lips were greedy and hot with that same confusing array of emotions she’d seen a moment ago. Anger. Fear. Possession. Protectiveness.
Volatile. That was the word she’d so often used in her own head when thinking about him. Volatile, though he kept himself on a very short chain. Right now that chain had slipped.
For the first two chapters, click here: http://www.rowanartistry.com/book/enchanter-redeemed/
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Camelot, Enchanter redeemed Camelot Reborn, Merlin, Paranormal Romance, Sharon Ashwood by email@example.com with 2 comments.
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Tani Hanes and Farraway Mist!
Tell us what inspired this particular story?
I wanted to write a sort of homage to stories I admired, namely Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca, Stephen King’s Bag of Bones, and Richard Adams’ The Girl in a Swing. Of course, being able to read and admire works of that stature doesn’t mean you can reproduce anything similar! But I wanted to try.
What secret do you use to blast through writer’s block?
I’m really lucky, in that I don’t usually get blocked! I mean, I do struggle with plot points when I don’t have the requisite knowledge to get from one place to another, but I always know what I want my story to do. And I had a teacher once who gave me the best advice ever: Never stop writing when you don’t know what you’re going to write next. You should be on fire to get the next bit down when you stop. This will pretty much guarantee that you come back to write it, see? If you wait until you’ve ground down to just complete and total frustration, then you push everything away and stop for the day, well, you’re pretty unmotivated to come back, and you might even give up on the whole thing, which would be a shame.
Who is your favorite character of all of the books you’ve written and Why?
I like the children I’ve written, and the animals, believe it or not. In the book I’m promoting here, Farraway Mist, the dogs are actually a crucial part of the plot, and I like them. I love them. The animals and the kids are so pure. They have no filters, no ulterior motives, I love that about them.
Why do you write what you write? Contemporary, paranormal, suspense, etc.
I like romances the best. Even this one, which is my first try at a paranormal mystery, is really just a very sexy love story with paranormal elements added in. I love people meeting and falling in love, and having babies or whatever, if that’s a natural part of the story. I really enjoy dialogue, and expressing the characters’ personalities through
You’ve got a time machine, a cloak of invisibility, and one hour. Where would you go, and what eavesdropping would you do?
London in the late 1880s; I want to know who Jack the Ripper was!
Okay, you’re casting the movie version of your novel – who would you choose for the main characters? We’re talking dream cast.
This is pretty easy. For George Wilder, the male MC in Farraway Mist I’d have to go with Harry Styles. He’s always kind of my go to lead, anyway, but in this case, he’s English, he’s in his twenties, he’s a singer, he’s beautiful, with long hair…need I say more? Plus I think he could pull off that whole brooding, Mr. Rochester/Max de Winter thing, you know?
Scout is not as clear to me; possibly Shailene Woodley, or Saoirse Ronan?
What’s your favorite part of being an author?
Talking to readers!! Hands down. I suppose there might be a day, way out there, when I might get tired of this, but as of now, I love when readers want to talk about the characters, or they tell me a certain part made them smile or cry or whatever.
SPEED ROUND FOR A LITTLE ADDED FUN:
Speed Round (one word only answer): Yep, I know torture for a writer!<evil laugh>
Favorite movie: A Room With A View
Favorite book: To Kill A Mockingbird
Last book read: Lonesome Dove (re-read)
Favorite color: violet
Stilettos or flipflops: slippers!
Coffee or tea: both
Ebook or audiobook or paperback: paperback
Pencil or pen: fountain pen
Favorite song: Night Changes (One Direction forever!)
Streak or not: yeah
Favorite junk food: chocolate covered cherries?
Favorite thing to do to relax: crochet or knit
Champagne or gin: I don’t drink!
Paranormal or Historical: paranormal
Wonder Woman or Top Model: Wonder Woman
Favorite TV show: Dexter?
Hot or cold: cold
POV: omniscient (I LOVE HEAD HOPPING)
I’d die if I don’t have: SUSHI
Thank you for putting up with the questions and playing our speed round!
as well. She exclaimed over how well balanced they were, and how well they swung, their heft. And how shiny they were, and how pretty the color was.
George just smiled, pleased with how well received his gift was.
whole links, while the dogs bounced back and forth, rambling along the
different scents. In golf, at least, they were well-matched, and had a good
game, with Scout having the weaker but more accurate stroke.
began to come up just as they reached the last few holes. “Maybe we should
stop,” George suggested, looking around.
on, this is all private, right?” Scout coaxed. “No one else is
around, there’s no danger of anyone up ahead getting hit by a ball or
anything.” She looked at him imploringly. “We can be quick, can’t we?
It’s just that I haven’t played in so long.”
let’s be very quick,” George stressed, once again enticed by the lovely
sight of her hips as they twisted when she swung her club. “You’ve seen
how rapidly the mist can come up.”
through quickly, trying to see up ahead as the fog rose up the cliffs.
explain the topography a little to help out, and Scout did okay, calling on her
memory from her previous walk along the links. They kept the dogs close to
avoid hitting one of them with an errant ball.
got thick enough to block out the sun, and Scout pulled on her sweater, which
had been tied around her slender waist.
cold?” George asked. “We can head back if you like?” He stepped
close and rubbed her arm.
the last hole, right?” she asked. “Let’s finish.” George nodded
and stepped up to the tee.
through, by which time their hair was wet from the mist and fog. They could
hear the waves, too, crashing into the rocks. They quickly shouldered their
clubs and began walking toward the house, which was shrouded in fog.
Slow down, please. Remember how slippery this bit here can be,” George
slowed her steps. After a minute or two, she stopped and looked around.
“Where’s Jess?” she asked.
looked. “Fuck it all, where’s she gone off to now?” he asked,
irritated beyond all measure. For no reason he could fathom, he was uneasy. He
wanted to get back to the house, he wanted to get Scout back to the house. The
longer they stayed outside, the more nervous he felt.
going, Scout, carefully, though. I’ll call Jess and catch up in a mo,
okay?” he said.
to say she’d just wait with him, but she saw the look on his face and just
nodded, not wanting to worry him any more, and turned and kept walking. They
had to be pretty close to the house by now, anyway.
on, girl!” George called. Bandit, understanding that Jess’ absence was
gumming up the works, promptly went to look for her. George knew that he’d find
her and bring her back right away, and that she’d probably be contrite and
if not polite.
how far ahead Scout was, and stopped dead in his tracks. Oh god.
something on the trail next to her, some amorphous shape, darker than the
surrounding fog. It was hovering about eight inches off the ground, hulking
over Scout, who didn’t seem aware of its presence.
Her name was torn from his mouth, a warning which she would never understand.
How could he convey what he needed from this distance with mere words? That she
needed to run, defend herself, be careful?
toward him, not understanding her danger, but hearing the terror in his voice.
As she turned, she slipped, dropping her clubs with a clatter. She grabbed for
the railing, which she knew she should’ve been holding all along.
footing, reaching desperately for the iron fencing. She saw George drop his own
clubs, coming toward her at a dead run, Bandit appearing out of the fog behind
him like a wraith. There was no way he’d reach her in time.
beneath her feet began to crumble, and Scout knew that she was going to fall,
and probably die. It was at least a couple hundred feet down to the beach
soft, sandy beach, but rather a rocky, cove-like one, deep and beautiful for
taking photographs. The stairs were cut sharply into the cliffs, and she would
probably hit most of them on the way down.
brief moment when she thought she could save herself, when she managed to grab
inexplicably, she felt something else, and it pushed her, pushed her body and
hands, peeling her fingers off and shoving her over the edge.
just as she was sure she was going to fall, George was there, throwing himself into
the breech, literally throwing himself behind her somehow, grabbing her around
the waist, changing her trajectory, so she fell, not into the chasm underneath,
but onto a tiny ledge, a V-shaped opening between two rocks carved into the
with a hard thump, hitting the rock wall hard. Scout carried the momentum for
both of them, being so much lighter, and kept going, nearly over the edge.
George kept his hold around her waist, hauling her back just in time. He pulled
her close, his heart beating like a triphammer in his chest.
each other, knowing how close their escape had been, both breathing like they’d
just run a marathon.
George, thank you,” Scout gasped through chattering teeth. They looked
around at their tiny, wet surroundings.
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged England, Farraway Mist, Paranormal Romance, Tani Hanes by firstname.lastname@example.org with no comments yet.
When I was in high school, my science teacher gave me tickets to do my lab research at the Franklin Institute of Science. Back then I knew there was something historic about the place, was in awe of the size of the building, the stairways, and the exhibits, but never investigated further. FLY LIKE AN EAGLE was born at the opening of the Franklin Institute. Growing up in historic Philadelphia, I knew stories were there to be discovered; I just didn’t realize the intrigue of the time.
While Jane Austin wrote PRIDE AND PREDJUDICE under the regent for “crazy” George III, industrialists and government officials, members of the Philadelphia Philosophical Society (including Thomas Jefferson), wanted to honor Benjamin Franklin by opening the Institute. I made my characters in FLY LIKE AN EAGLE, hero and heroine, children of those industrialists: lucky Samantha, daughter of Proper Philadelphia Society and Migizi, treated like a servant, his industrialist father having fallen in love and married a Native American woman, the leader of her Delaware doodem.
The Delaware Native Americans, like other Algonquin speakers, had a word for the power of human consciousness—bimijiwan (The Flow). It just seems that the resurrected future queen of Scotland, Ireland, and Britain, Electress Sophia of the House of Hanover (the ancestor to today’s British Royalty), oversaw the building of a quantum computer all out of crystal lenses. Long Live The Q! With the quantum computer serves as a time machine that focused The Flow of Life into both past and future.
Do you see yourself in your characters?
I always admire writers of memoirs. They have to be gutsy to write all the experiences they had, depending on the way they looked at their lives, their perspectives, and the intimate details they’re willing to reveal. I never found a single thread that I was comfortable with in my own life. I was different than others in that with my scientific curiosity, I was always experimenting. But, I am more the sort to step into the bodies of my characters and playact their parts, rather than exposing all the famous people I was lucky enough to know (and that includes my parents). I always felt uncomfortable about speaking of those who have passed on, because I’ll never know what their true motives were. And that’s what it’s about for my characters. If we don’t know their motives, it’s hard to judge them. And I don’t want to put myself in a place to judge others, or to put those judgments out there. END OF SOAPBOX!
What do you want your readers to take away from your books?
In my life, I have fallen in and out of love. TAKE THAT BACK! I don’t think I’ve ever fallen out of love with anyone I was in love with. But I did learn to move on. As to the themes I enjoy sharing with my books: most deal with diversity. My characters are challenged because of the society they’re born into. Their relationships are taboo. Dawn, in ENTANGLED, is born into the lower class, and Taylor, into the upper class. Samantha, in FLY LIKE AN EAGLE, is forbidden from marrying Native born, Eagle, but encouraged to marry his white industrialist father, many years older than she is.
I like my sci-fi heroes to be artificial intelligence androids that look and operate like humans (maybe even super humans). They’re considered one step down in society and, so, romantically forbidden. In my NANOWRIMO performance this year, I wrote a story I’m excited about: a contemporary romance between a “white” woman, a physician, and a black man, a Navy SEAL and firefighter. He rejects her because she’s white. Though she passes for white, she’s a dark-phase African albino from Tanzania, both her parents black (The albino race introduced in LEGENDS OF THE GOLDENS SERIES.
If writing is your first passion, what is your second?
I’m a scientific generalist with several advanced degrees and lots of courses out the whazoo! On my philosophy website (www.TheUnionOfOpposites.com) I extend the things I’ve learned (about conscious awareness) in my published research and use them to seed the themes in my novels. Sometimes the ideas can be difficult for those not into sci-fi, suspense, thrillers, or adventure (or those who just don’t want too many surprises). For those readers, I take my cue from some of my reviewers who just skip over those few geeky sentences. I don’t write formulaic, meaning that I don’t read another author to find out how their characters make love, how their worlds are run, things like that. In that way, I guess my novels are all my own kind of memoir, pieces of my nerdy life shared with my characters.
finished the second suggestive sentence of her self-regression, she was here in
the misty Lowlands of Scotland, not far outside Edinburgh. As on her previous
trips, she was literally in Lily’s body, experiencing all the woman’s senses
and emotions, but none of her thoughts. So frustrating.
Fly Like An Eagle:
most probably escaped to the house. Migizi (Eagle) would return her shawl,
hoping by the time he caught up to her, she would have put on something a
little less fetching.
been wrong about him. Leaving me alone with Ronaldson’s nubile daughter? Look
at her as a sister? He’d have more success taking flight by jumping off a cliff
and flapping his arms.
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Paranormal Romance, Sci-Fi, steampunk, Time travel by email@example.com with 1 comment.