Interview with Amber Leigh Williams + Giveaway

Hi Sweethearts! I'm here to introduce western romance author, Amber Leigh Williams! Amber is a multi-published romance author, a member of Romance Writers of America, former Secretary of the Gulf Coast Chapter of RWA, and a monthly contributor to Sweethearts of the West. Her first western romance, Blackest Heart, was the 1st Place More Than Magic Novella in 2009 and her historical romance, Forever Amore, was nominated for Best Book of 2009 by Long & Short Reviews. She is represented by D4EO Literary Agency.

Amber, when did you begin writing? Has it been a lifelong dream?
I discovered my love of storytelling in the third grade. It started out with plays and short stories and progressed into fairy tales and, eventually, YA and romance novels. When I found out that I could make a living writing fiction, I strived to be published! So, yes, in a way it was always a dream :)

Just to get an idea about your home, do you live north, south, east, or west in the U.S.? What do you like best about your area?

I’ve lived in the South all my life, most of it on Gulf Coast of Alabama. I’m definitely a small town girl at heart. Being raised in this part of the country made me who I am so I love everything about my upbringing and the South!

I know you have books with The Wild Rose Press. They must be Western in nature, or you wouldn't be a member of Sweethearts of the West! Can you tell a little more about them? Do you write in any other genre?

I write contemporary western romance for The Wild Rose Press, more specifically for the Wayback, Texas series where a cowboy falls in love every eight seconds! The Ridges of Wayback, TX trilogy follows the lives and loves of the tree Ridge siblings – Stella, Casey, and Keefe. The first book in the trilogy, Blackest Heart, finaled in the 2009 More Than Magic Contest, placing 1st in the novella category. It features one of my favorite heroes, silent cowboy Judd Black! You can find out more here at The Wild Rose Press….

The second book, Bluest Heart, is about the younger of the two Ridge cowboys, Casey. In this story, the good boy falls for the so-called “bad girl” of Wayback, Josie Brusky. And the good boy has never been this sexy. Find out more here about Casey and Josie’s story here….

Bet it on my Heart, the final book in the trilogy features Keefe Ridge, the playboy of Wayback, who meets his match in touch, city-slicker Calli Morlani. Find out more about Bet it on my Heart here….

I’ve also published a romantic suspense, Denied Origin, with The Wild Rose Press. The Way Back Home is a western romance anthology in paperback featuring Blackest Heart. Black Lyon Publishing more recently published my historical romance, Forever Amore!

Are you always as happy as your photos depict? What makes your life really good?

Haha, I certainly hope so! I’ve been happily married for five years. I also live just a few miles from the sugar white beaches on Alabama’s coast line! If that isn’t enough to keep me happy, I have three goofy labs to keep me entertained!

If you had one wish, what would it be?

Goodness, that’s a tough one! I would probably wish for a house on the lake in north Alabama where I spent a good part of my childhood as well! I’d love to retire there one day with the hubby, and it’s the perfect place for inspiration :)

What is most satisfying in the writing/submitting/publishing details of a novel?

The most satisfying part of it all, I think, is when readers respond in a really positive way. Good reviews are one thing, but when I hear from happy readers, I know I’ve done my job well. There’s nothing more fulfilling than satisfying readers!

Do you have anything else that is special/different/new/exciting in your life?

Recently, I updated my website to include bonus material from my western trilogy, the Ridges of Wayback, TX. It includes a sexy, short, Valentine’s Day snippet I wrote post-HEA for Bluest Heart as well as a deleted scene from Bet it on my Heart! Find it on the EXTRAS page at http://www.amberleighwilliams.com!

One more question: what is your favorite meal? Do you cook it, or go out?

My favorite meal consists of my mother’s chicken divan, though you won’t hear me put down my grandmother’s devilled eggs either, lol. Every summer holiday my family made our own lemon sherbet ice cream as well, which is divine! So divine I used it in Bet it on my Heart for one of my favorite scenes ;)

GIVEAWAY: Every reader who comments today or tomorrow to this post will be entered to win a ebook or audio book of their choice from the following titles – BLACKEST HEART, BLUEST HEART, and BET IT ON MY HEART. Find out more about each at my webpage here: http://www.amberleighwilliams.com/books. Read reviews for each, too, at http://www.amberleighwilliams.com/news-reviews. If you do comment, be sure to let me know which title you would prefer. I’ll draw the winner randomly Sunday, August 7th either here or at my personal blogs, The Cozy Page: http://amberleighwilliams.blogspot.com! Good luck :)

(CHANCES OF WINNING DEPEND ON THE NUMBER OF ENTRIES AND YOU MUST BE 18 YEARS OR OLDER.)

My Life by Paisley Kirkpatrick

Who am I? That’s a good question. I am a wife, a mom, a writer, a seamstress, a mountain woman, and a good friend. It’s not easy to describe yourself when you are basically shy and would rather watch from the sidelines.

I grew up in Northern California in Santa Rosa, the town Luther Burbank settled in because flowers thrive in its cooler climate. We had fog that would roll in from the ocean similar to San Francisco. I married a handsome, hero-type Air Force sergeant 42 years ago. It was the classic love-at-first-sight for me and I’ve never regretted my decision. We had two daughters, nine and a half years apart. Our older daughter died nine years ago from cancer and left a big hole in our hearts.

We’ve basically lived in a mountainous area for most of our marriage. Ken retired from Pacific Gas and Electric Company as, first a lineman and then an electrician, after 33 years, much like my father did. Living in remote areas gave me the chance to expand my love of writing. I joined an International Pen Friends organization in 1989 and out of the 41 pen friends I had, I still write to a half dozen of them. I’ve also had the chance to host Cristache from Romania for three weeks and we stayed with Sue in Scotland a few days while visiting her beautiful country. This penpal opportunity gave me the chance to explore the world through their letters and friendships. We also met and ‘adopted’ Bert, a young Dutch gentleman, 31 years ago while on a camping trip and that friendship opened the door to hosting a Swedish exchange daughter. My husband’s comment was, “How much can one person change the house?” We soon found out. It was an experience of a lifetime and we still consider Magdalena our daughter.
It wasn’t long until we started traveling to Holland (we were actually in Bert’s wedding in a castle in Holland) and spent two extra weeks in Sweden. Now we’ve added Canada, Germany, Scotland, Denmark (where my Dad’s parents came from) and several other countries to our list of places we love to visit. My Mom’s family came here from Scotland and that seems to be my favorite place to visit.

Over the years I’ve enjoyed decorating cakes (none of the little girls in my life forgot I promised to make their wedding cakes), but the greatest joy was making my daughter’s cake.

I have suffered from carpel tunnel syndrome for twenty years now, so the cakes aren’t as fancy as they used to be. I love bringing children-of-my-heart into my life and they say I am like the old lady who lived in a shoe and didn’t know what to do with all her children. They let me love them…. What’s amazing to me is that they are all in the age range of the daughter we lost. I am thinking she is sending them my way.

An extraordinary time of my life was being president of the Kevin Sharp Friends Club for thirteen years.

Kevin grew up nearby and rose to become an award winning country singing artist. He survived life-threatening cancer at 18 and has devoted his life to helping kids with the traitorous disease. We had over 2000 members in the fan club. I sent out 50 newsletters – one every three months – and met so many fantastic people along the way. My partner and I ran a booth at Fan Fair in Nashville five years and I fell in love with the South. You cannot imagine the feeling I had standing on the stage of the Grand Old Opry and experiencing Kevin singing for a full audience. Awesome doesn’t even begin to cover it. And, yes, he is one of my sons-of-my-heart.

We live in a small community located halfway between Sacramento and Lake Tahoe on an acre of land amidst the tall trees.

We love it here – lots of wild life such as bears, mountain lions, coyotes, and birds to keep us company. Our daughter and son-in-law live down the road less than an hour away, a very good thing.

I spend my time writing and sewing. In memory of our daughter, I have made and given away 36 quilts, mostly brightly-colored, crib-size flannel baby quilts and some photo quilts.

I’ve worked as a secretary for certified public accountants, accounts payable clerk for property management and a clerk in an art gallery. The gallery opened a door for me as it was located in the old gold-mining town of Placerville, and located across the street from The Cary House hotel built in 1857. My stories are set in the gold rush era and my research lives around me. So many of the old timers here still love to remember back and talk about when there was gold taken from these hills.

I have written four stories, but none are published yet because I haven’t sent them out. I keep learning new skills and applying them. My goal is to tighten them up and start sending them on their way. I’ve been enjoying some wins and a first place in contests this past year. Since joining RWA and Sacramento Valley Rose in November, 1999, I have been a board member in my local chapter and membership chair for From the Heart for six years. My other chapters are Hearts through History, Celtic Hearts, and Music City Romance Writers, and my blogs are Writers Playground, Scandalous Victorians, Voices of the Heart and Sweethearts of the West.

This is a brief overview of my life’s story. What’s next? I am hoping to see a book with my name on the cover. I believe in miracles and know dreams come true. Thanks for spending time with me today.

TIME PLAINS DRIFTER IS RELEASED...AGAIN!

Time Plains Drifter is a different kind of romance novel than anything I’ve ever read. I think that’s why I enjoyed writing it so much.

After being released in December of 2009 with an unscrupulous publisher, I took my rights back after only three months and spent the next year searching for another home for it. Just this past spring, it was placed with WESTERN TRAIL BLAZER, an imprint of PUBLISHING BY REBECCA J. VICKERY. This is a marvelous company that handles some much “bigger” names than I have, such as Peter Brandvold, Jory Sherman, and Madeline Baker, among others. Print books are important to me, although I understand that e-publishing is growing by leaps and bounds. I’m sure that WESTERN TRAIL BLAZER will prove to be the perfect place for Time Plains Drifter, and I’m glad to say I now have the sequel in the works.

That being said, let me tell you why Time Plains Drifter is so hard to pigeonhole and why that may be a bit scary in today’s market.

I knew Time Plains Drifter was going to have to be classified as a time-travel romance; that’s how the H/h meet one another. She’s from 2010—he’s from 1879. That was the easy part. The part that was a bit harder to work around was that he was dead. I just couldn’t get past the premise that Rafe d’Angelico was going to be the “paranormal element” of the story. I didn’t want him to be a werewolf, vampire, or shapeshifter. So that left angels, demons, zombies and so forth. I chose for him to be an angel.

Working with Rafe—an angel who didn’t want to be an angel—was a challenge. I told him he had a pretty good deal going. He told me, “I want to be human again.” In the end, I realized he was right, and that was the only way to resolve the issue of time-travel-paranormal-angel-demon-human issues.

Jenni Dalton, the heroine, was completely unsuspecting in all this. She went out on a stargazing field trip with seven of her high school students one night and they never came home. Instead, they ended up in Indian Territory, 1895; one hundred-fifteen years in the past.

Jenni’s got it rough, trying to deal with her seven charges, four of them the senior class troublemakers. It takes Rafe to bring them to heel and get them to toe the mark, until the gravity of their situation causes them to all make some surprising adjustments.

As Rafe and Jenni realize their growing attraction to one another is fated, they also understand there is no way anything can come of it on a permanent basis—Rafe is an angel, and Jenni is human.

The twists and turns that finally bring the book around to the HEA were the most fun to come up with for me. But the story itself, being so unique, is tough to categorize.

Time Plains Drifter is special to me because it’s the first project my daughter, Jessica, and I have had the chance to work on together. She designed the cover art. I absolutely LOVE what she did.

Time Plains Drifter was the recipient of The Reviewer’s Top Pick Award by Karen M. Nutt, PNR reviews. It also received a 4.5 star review from Romantic Times Magazine. I was selected as the recipient of the Honorable Mention—Best New Paranormal Author category in PNR’s PEARL Awards last year (March 2010), based on Time Plains Drifter.

The sequel has been a delight to work on, with a different twist than the first book, and some familiar characters will be the stars of the show this time around since the story is built around Rafe’s brother, Cris, and Jenni’s sister, Victoria.

Time Plains Drifter is now available in all formats, including print, Kindle, and Nook. Take a look at my Amazon page to order. (See link below.)
Cheryl's Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002JV8GUE

I’ve included the blurb and an excerpt below. Please leave a comment! I always love to hear from readers and other authors. Visit my website at http://www.cherylpierson.com
Enjoy!


BLURB:
Trapped in Indian Territory of 1895 by a quirk of nature, high school teacher Jenni Dalton must find a way to get her seven students back to 2005. Handsome U.S. Marshal Rafe d’Angelico seems like the answer to her prayers; he is, after all, an angel. In a race against time and evil, Rafe has one chance to save Jenni’s life and her soul from The Dark One—but can their love survive?

EXCERPT from TIME PLAINS DRIFTER:

He closed his eyes, letting the pleasurable feel of her wet mouth on his body wash over him, along with her voice. “Some things never change,”she’d said earlier. Her Oklahoma accent was a slow waltz to his mind, its lilting cadence urging him to accept what they had between them. Still, he couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t ever be dishonest with her, of all people.

“Don’t you want to know—”

She stopped him, placing two cool fingers across his lips, smiling at the tickle of his moustache against her skin. The smile faded as she absorbed the worry in his expression, the smoldering fire in his eyes, and made it her own.

“Not now, I don’t. You asked me—earlier—if I felt it. Whatever it is between us. I do.” Debating with herself, she hesitated a moment before coming to a decision. “I want you, Rafe,” she murmured. “I trust you.” She nuzzled his neck.“It doesn’t matter now, who—or what—you are.”

His hand closed in a fist around the shimmering satin of her copper hair, his chest filling with a sweet peace at her quiet words.

Dead...alive...Mexican...American...man...ghost...angel...

His mind churned as Jenni kissed him once again. Accepting him, for whoever he might be. She loved him. She hadn’t said it yet, but he knew it by the gentle way her lips grazed across his, then claimed his mouth completely, as if that was the only way she had to let him know how she felt. They breathed together, as one.

He answered her wordlessly, his tongue going into her mouth, fingers splaying and tightening against her scalp as he pulled her to him.

She came across his bare chest, the stiffness of the material of her own blouse gliding with gentle abrasion across his nipples. He groaned in pleasure and felt her smile against his mouth. She made the move again as she lifted her lips from his, emerald eyes sparkling into his searing gaze.

“We’ll talk later,” she assured him.

“It’ll be too late to change your mind about me then,” he said, half-jokingly.

“I won’t change my mind, Rafe.”

The sweet sincerity in her voice and the promise in her eyes reassured him. He pulled her down silently. As their mouths melded once more, he rolled, taking her with him, changing their positions so he lay atop her.

She gasped, yielding to him, her cool palms sliding over the fevered heat of his skin, across his chest and shoulders. He began to unbutton her blouse as he kissed her, his fingers moving deftly. He pushed away the first layer of material with his customary impatience, then started on the stays of her corset.

She twisted beneath him at the loosening of the undergarment. He pulled her upright momentarily, whisking blouse and corset over her head, dropping them in a heap on the floor.

In silent invitation, Jenni lifted her hand to him. She touched his side, and he flinched slightly as her fingers lingered over the very place the Bowie had gone into him earlier that day. Even though a red scar marked the spot, there was no pain for him, and he saw no puzzlement in her eyes...only concern.

“Does it hurt?”

It was as he had suspected. She’d seen what had happened, how bad it should have been...but wasn’t. And she had accepted it, unconditionally. They would talk later, as she’d said, but somehow, he felt he would find the words he needed to explain things to her. He shook his head slightly. “No.”

A vulnerable uncertainty crossed her face for a moment. “Well, then, Marshal—what’re you waiting for?” He unfastened her skirt and petticoat, then made short work of the stockings and underpants.

God. Rafe swallowed hard, reaching to trace the faded tan lines across her shoulders. He moistened his lips, his teeth sinking into the lower one momentarily. His pulse raced as his gaze moved over her face—then lower, to her breasts, her flat belly, and the triangle of soft hair, below.

SWEET SUMMER READ

My hero, Roy Rogers, and

the hussy who stole him
from me.

By Caroline Clemmons

You know I love the West, which is why I'm here. My love began very early with my dad telling me how his family came to Texas after the Civil War and some of the events that followed. Fascinating. Those Johnson boys sure got into a lot of trouble--especially when they teamed up with the Hardemans and others! Then I discovered cowboys. Sigh. Love those cowboys and ranchers! I loved the movies, but read western comic books when I couldn't go to a movie theater. At least I was reading, right?

High plains cotton field

The summer before I was eight, my family moved back to Texas from Southern California. I was soooo excited, because now I would see real cowboys. I was a dorky kid and in my mind, as soon as we crossed the state line into Texas, I'd be able to see cowboys everywhere. Not. We moved to a farming community where my dad managed a cotton gin. Cotton fields, not ranches and cowboys. Let me tell you, I was disappointed, but I was still certain cowboys rode just over the horizon.

My poor dad--hounded by requests to show me the cowboys--kept telling me my idea of western life was just in the movies. Alas, on our first trip to Oklahoma to visit my grandmother, we drove through the ranching area near Shamrock, Texas Yep, one of the ranches was having a roundup and I saw cowboys, lots of cowboys. I was in heaven. Picture me bouncing up and down for joy in the back seat and my dad having to eat his words. (Poor dad. He was a great father, and I'm sure I was a trial to him and my mom.)

Lubbock, Texas

My love of the West continues. Most of my growing up years were in Lubbock, Texas, known as "The Hub of the Plains." Not a bad place to grow up, in spite of the sand storms. In my latest release, HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME from The Wild Rose Press, the hero is a rancher. The book is set in and near Lubbock. (Write what you know.) I hope readers will enjoy this book. This modern Cinderella story is a departure for me, in that it is a sweet contemporary romance rather than sensual.

Courtney Madison grew up in Dallas and manages in a small bookstore near where a large chain has opened. To stave off closing the store, the owner has come out of retirement to replace Courtney and her assistant manager. Saving two salaries may keep the store going. Unfortunately, that means Courtney is out of a job at a time when the brother for whom she's guardian has found bad companions and begun skipping school. Add all that to the mound of debts she has from her late mother's illness and Courtney is desperate with a capitla D. Her fairy godmother--make that godfather--steps in with a legacy worth two million dollars! An elderly man she befriended while her mom was in the hospital, has left her his home in West Texas, along with other properties, on the condition she live there for a year. Wow! She can stop looking for a job, get her brother away from his punk friends, and pay off her mother's debts. How lucky can a girl be? But wait--there's a catch. Isn't there always? And Courtney learns that money may be the answer to some problems, but it creates new challenges.

The hunky hero, Derek Corrigan, is a rancher who was raised by Courtney's benefactor. Derek's judgement regarding financial matters is amazing. With women, not so much. Right now, he wants a secure and loving home for his two children, Meg and Warren, and to prevent them learning the kind of woman their late mother was. Never works, does it?

Okay, you know how this book is going to end, right? HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME is not an instruction manual for brain surgery. This is a light romance with pathos, humor, and a hunky hero--just the book to chase the summer doldrums. Here's an excerpt:

When Jimmy saw his sister in bed, he rushed over. "Sis, what happened? What’s with the towel and the ice packs?" He frowned at Derek. "What’s going on?"
She opened her mouth to explain, but nothing came out.
Derek figured the bizarre situation defied description. He patted Jimmy on the shoulder. "Don’t worry, she’s okay now. We were at the cemetery putting flowers on Sam’s and Maggie’s graves and your sister got trapped in the bathroom."
Jimmy shook his head. "I don’t understand. How could that hurt her?"
Courtney sighed. "The knob came off in my hand and I couldn’t open the door. So, I climbed out the window."
Derek held out his hands to indicate the small rectangle. "A small, high window."
Jimmy looked from his sister to Derek. "I still don’t understand what happened."
Courtney snapped, "I got stuck, okay?"
Now that he knew her to be okay, the week’s tension suddenly snapped Derek and he lost his perspective on the whole situation. He grimaced at Jimmy. "She, um…" He coughed to keep a straight face. "When she tried to go out the window, she got stuck with her head and one arm sticking outside and the rest of her inside." He stood like a bird with a broken wing to imitate Courtney’s position. A grin spread across his face in spite of all his efforts not to smile.
Jimmy gaped at his sister. "Courtney? But she’s always so sensible. She’s never does anything stupid." He began to smile also.
Both males burst into laughter.
"Listen, if you two are so amused, go into the other room to discuss my apparently hilarious antics and leave me to suffer in peace." In spite of her strained muscles and injuries, she threw a box of tissues in their direction. "Go on, get out of here. Now."
Derek glanced over his shoulder before he left.

She’d stuffed a pillow over her ears, to block out their laughter.

I hope you'll take a chance on HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME. It's available in print and e-book from www.thewildrosepress.com/caroline-clemmons-m-638.html

Thanks for letting me talk about my new release instead of a post about western history. 

Now, it's your turn. What sparked your love for the West?

Looking for a HOT Summer Read?

Dear Sweethearts of the West readers,

I'm Sandra Crowley, author of a spicy romantic suspense, CAUGHT BY A CLOWN. If you're looking for a great read to relax with, one that will carry you across the country and introduce you to settings you might not have encountered before, CAUGHT BY A CLOWN, is the book for you. Amazon readers have given it two 5-Star reviews, and it garnered three 4-Star reviews from Sizzling Hot Book Reviews, The Romance Reviews and The Romance Studio.

If this bit of shameless promotion intrigues you, the blurb and two excerpts follow: 

Blurb:  A spontaneous freelance journalist on a mission of mercy finds herself entangled with a methodical undercover FBI agent out to settle a score. 

Stacie Monroe's spontaneity lands her in hot water again when her best friend's little brother disappears and Stacie trails him to a nudist resort. To get inside the exclusive oasis and convince him to return home, she must blend in, a move tailor made to shock her oh-so-proper family and renew efforts to bring her in line. 

That's exactly what Special Agent David Graham intends to do when she interferes in his case. Yet, the soft-hearted temptress challenges his resolve, revealing the path to a love he thought impossible. Will that love survive when he betrays her in order to unravel the final twist in his case and convict a vicious killer?

Excerpt 1: 

 

       The tissue box on her desk shifted. Stacie kept her gaze on the colorful page filling her screen while the tropical scent of sunscreen blended with the faint tang of a citrus and spice after-shave lotion. Oh no, another dangling dandy hung too close for comfort.

       A long, slow rasp warned her someone was easing a tissue upward. With a sideways glance, she spotted a man’s blunt, tanned fingers spreading the blue tissue to its widest, highest extent, yet leave it anchored in the box. This man cloaked in secrecy what others at the resort openly displayed. She assessed thick wrists and an athletic build that registered in her drool range. Stacie sat straighter and focused on his hands. No ring bound his finger. No pale circlet of skin betrayed the recent removal of one. Looking up, she saw a square jaw shadowed by dark blond stubble. Thick lashes fringed gray eyes. He wore his blond hair long and pulled back, the complete opposite to her riot of short black curls.

       “He can’t be David Graham. I am. Always have been.”

       Snapping back to reality, Stacie realized the new hero of her dreams thought her guess about Alan changing identity was wrong. She agreed with him. Seeing David Graham in the flesh, yummy hunky flesh, proved he looked nothing like Alan Walsh.

       “Why do you think he’s me?”

       “It doesn’t matter.” Concerned she’d upset a legitimate member, she introduced herself and offered a warm smile.

       “What does this Alan Walsh look like, Stacie?”

       A distinct tan line slashed low across the man’s abdomen, dividing sun-gilded skin from virgin white. A faint alarm sounded in her mind.

       “Maybe I’ve seen him and could point you in his direction.”

       His fidgeting hands and taut body mirrored her reaction to public exposure. Stacie relaxed. She would have signed in using a fake address and name if she’d come as a guest. He probably thought helping her would ease him into this new and daunting experience.

       “Alan has cinnamon brown hair. Styled, not cut. The hundred dollar appointment kind instead of the twelve dollar walk-in type.”

       Graham’s attention remained intent without a hint of reaction.

       “He’s five, maybe seven years younger that your...thirty-three?”

       Graham shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but he stayed silent.

       “Shorter by several inches than your...what...six-three or four...?”

       A tight smile pulled his firm lips. “Some people think I throw a long shadow.”

       She figured they should be more worried about the heavy muscles that slabbed his arms, shoulders, and chest. “Where you’re built like a weight-lifter, Alan’s a long distance runner.”

       “I know the type.”

       David Graham’s flat comment implied it fit Alan’s personality as neatly as it did his body. Goose bumps prickled Stacie’s arms for the second time that day.

       She looked at him without attraction fogging her senses. What was an intensely private man doing in a nudist resort? One possibility chilled her. Mick Caputo had sent him.

 

Excerpt 2 from later that night: 

     Stacie tapped one sandal-clad foot on the floor while Agent I'd-Rather-Scare-You-Than-Confide-In-You ignored her. She glanced toward the bathroom, crossed her legs, and wished she hadn't finished that last glass of wine.

     "Aren't you going to search that closet or open those two bottom drawers in the dresser?" she asked when he tucked his camera inside his pack.

     "Can't."

     A nasty suspicion raised its head. "Why not?"

     "Don't have a search warrant. That limits me to a visual inspection of what's in plain sight."

     "I won't tell," she pushed, despite being certain of his response.

     "There are laws."

     She groaned over the close match to a pronouncement she'd heard her whole life. There are rules.

     Boring. Snoring. Gone. Think of something else.

     Like how Agent By-The-Book caused this mess. If he'd mentioned being from the FBI when they met in the office none of this would have happened. He ignored her interest in Alan Walsh and her intelligence in favor of treating her as if she were a child in need of a lesson.

     Nature threatened to float her teeth, but Stacie refused to ask for relief. She fidgeted on the hard chair and crossed her legs the other way. The backs of her thighs pulled where her skin had stuck to the wooden seat. That twinge of pain reminded her she ought to be thrilled Graham claimed a badge and not a rap sheet. Instead, she rattled the handcuffs that shackled her to the chair and worried how far he meant to carry her arrest.

Find out how far David carries Stacie's arrest and learn who's CAUGHT BY A CLOWN.

BUY paperback at TWRP or Amazon

BUY Ebook (all formats) at TWRP, DigiBooks Café  and

Bookstrand  or Amazon Kindle

YouTube trailer.

www.sandracrowley.com
www.driven2danger.blogspot.com
Amazon Author page
Sandra's Facebook page
Caught by a Clown's Facebook page

I appreciate your consideration. Thank you and have a wonderful summer!!!

Sandra Crowley

Social Etiquette in the 1800s

As a writer, I’m usually leery of challenging myself, but there are times when it turns out to be fun. And I don’t merely mean making the leap from historical writing to contemporary and back again.  I’m talking about moving outside of my comfort zone.  To put it quite simply: my heroes have always been cowboys. *G*  Well, cowboys, gunfighters, lawmen, bounty hunters—in other words, men who don’t have “purty” manners and are basically take-me-as-I-am kind of guys.  And pairing them with a heroine who will at least pretend to be offended when he cusses, spits or smokes is a lot of fun.  But lately my heroes have been moving in another direction, and I find myself writing about men who either need to fit in with polite society, or who already belong to it. 

And that’s what has led me (kicking and screaming!) out of my comfort zone into the cold, frightening land of the unknown, LOL.  Sure I knew the basic customs of the era, but I’ve never written a character that had to—or wanted to-- adhere to them.  Some I already knew and have had fun deliberately ignoring in past stories. Others were no-brainers (ex: it’s bad manners to pick one’s teeth at the table. LOL. I’ll bet even my most trail-weary cowboy knows that one!) But they were all fun and chock full of "what if's" for having one character or another break the rules.  

Here are some of the more interesting tid bits my research has turned up:

It was not considered appropriate for a young man to approach a young lady. Even if they had already met, he must still be introduced by a mutual friend a second time before he can speak to her freely.

In any stage of courtship, the couple always walked apart - the only contact allowed was for him to offer her his hand over rough spots while walking.

Women never rode alone in a closed carriage with a man who was not a relative. (oooh isn't that what made Rhett Butler so scandalous?)

Women did not call on an unmarried gentleman at his home.

Men could not be received into the home if a woman was there alone, a family member must be present at all times.

A true gentleman always tips his hat when greeting a lady, opens doors and always walks on the outside.  (Sigh.)

When introduced to a man, a lady should never offer her hand, merely bow politely and say “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

A gentleman may delicately kiss a lady’s hand, forehead or at most, her cheek. (I suspect even my most noble heroes’ have broken this rule a time or two. *G*)

A lady should never be neglected.  A gentlemen should help her with her cloak, shawl or any other outer garment she may wish to remove. (A safe bet to say my heroes are quite capable in this area.)

When ascending a staircase with a lady, a gentleman is to go at her side or before her. 

Happy Writing! 

A Civil War Love Story--THIS TIME FOREVER--LASR Five Star Book of the Week-by Linda Swift

 If you haven't met Linda Swift, now is your chance. I consider her one of the best "classic romance authors" in the business. She has a long history of publication when Kensington was her publisher. Now, she's discovered small presses and is enjoying a resurgence of creativity. Meet her in her own words.

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A four-year commemoration of the American Civil War Sesquicentennial has begun. And with an existing plethora of Civil War books, both fact and fiction, why should I feel compelled to write another one? Hasn't Margaret Mitchell said it all? Since reading Gone With The Wind, I have been fascinated with this period in our nation's history. The magnificent plantations, southern belles in their exquisite gowns, not to mention Rhett Butler, are the stuff dreams are made of.

SOUTHERN PLANTATION HOME, PERHAPS LIKE WHITEHAVEN 

I was born in the border state of Kentucky. I attended university in South Alabama. And I lived for a few years in Chattanooga, Tennessee with its hallowed battlegrounds at Chickamauga Creek, Missionary Ridge, and Lookout Mountain. Swept up in the tragic history of this location, I wanted to tell a story of my own. Although the setting of the book is mainly Chattanooga, I have also included Oswego, New York and a family loyal to the Union.

I usually dedicate my books to  my husband but I have dedicated This Time Forever to three other people. First, my deceased mother, who loved all things related to the "old South." Then to my late cousin, a professional educator, who was terribly worried about my "wasted mind" when I began writing romance books. I think the research required for this story proves that my brain cells are still intact. And last, to a dear friend's son, a Chattanooga newspaper photographer who died from a staph infection following elective surgery. It saddens me to know that these three who would have enjoyed this story best of all I've written, will not have that opportunity.

My dedication is: "I wish you could have read this book."

AUTHOR LINDA SWIFT

And now I extend the invitation to you. If you only read one new book about the Civil War this year, I hope you will read this one. I will take you behind the battles into the hearts of both Yankees and Rebels as they live and die for the cause they believe in.

THIS TIME FOREVER is available from:

http://www.champagnebooks.com

and  

http://www.amazon.com/This-Time-Forever-ebook/dp/B005A90G1E/ref=sr_1_6?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1310999208&sr=1-6 

  Or you may find out more about it from my website at

www.lindaswift.net

Blurb:

The Civil War brought casualties beyond the bloody battlefields as North fought South. Philip Burke, against his family's wishes, volunteered to defend the Union and became a prisoner of war who bartered his medical expertise to remain out of prison. When the Union Army invaded Tennessee, Clarissa Wakefield's antebellum mansion became a Confederate hospital.  Philip was placed in charge and against propriety she volunteered to stay on and help nurse the wounded. Clarissa's husband was a Confederate soldier and Philip's fiancée waited for him in Oswego but the fire between them soon raged out of control. As the opposing armies fought for possession of Chattanooga, Clarissa and Philip faced their own battle. Caught in the passions of war and love, with hurt inevitable either way, would they be faithful to their vows or listen to their hearts?

Excerpt:

Tip-toeing past the snoring guard, Clarissa stepped onto the moonlit veranda and made her way toward a wicker chair facing the river. It was only as she sat down that she saw the glow of Philip Burke’s pipe.

“Oh, excuse me, I thought—”

“That you would be alone? I was just finishing my pipe.”

 He made a move to stand but she said quickly, “Please don’t go. It is I who have intruded.”

“I scarcely think so. This is your home after all, Mrs. Wakefield.” He settled back in his chair and took another puff.

“Let’s not belabor such a trivial matter, Captain Burke. I’m glad of someone to talk to.”

“Then I’ll stay for a while longer with your permission.”

“Yes, do. The quiet seems eerie. As if we’re suspended in motion,

waiting for something to happen.”

“Waiting for all hell to break loose.” He didn’t appear to notice his offensive language and she forgot it with his next words. “I’ve experienced this before. It’s the lull before the battle.”

“Do you really think so?”

“It’s inevitable, with the Army of the Tennessee on the march and the Army of the Cumberland right on their heels.”

“Perhaps General Bragg will just go on to Atlanta.”

“With thousands of battle-ready troops at his command?” Philip asked drily. “Not likely.”

“When do you think it will begin?” Clarissa asked with dread.

“Perhaps tomorrow. If not tomorrow, soon.”

Clarissa shivered. “I wish my son was back at Fleur-de-Lis. What if the Union…?”

“Have you forgotten I am a Union officer? You and yours will be safe as long as I’m here.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Clarissa silently regarded the man who sat near her, his features highlighted each time he drew on the coals of his pipe. It was difficult for her to remember that he was a prisoner but that must have been the thought

uppermost in his mind all these months.

The night sounds of early autumn filled the silence—dry flies and tree frogs and raucous insects too numerous to be identified. Clarissa became aware of Philip’s eyes on her and a warm sensation began in the pit of her

stomach and spread to her breasts and thighs. She watched his slender hand as he knocked the ashes from his pipe and imagined the hand touching her.

She felt her heart flutter and said with a catch in her voice, “I should go in now. It’s getting quite late.”

He stood at the same time she did and they were only inches apart.

Clarissa felt his warm breath on her face and dared not look up.

Her hair was luminescent silver flowing about her shoulders in the moon glow. Philip reached out to touch it and willed himself to stop. But his hands with a will of their own moved to her shoulders and she raised her

head and met his eyes.

In a dream-like motion they closed the space between them as their mouths slowly met and with a long-repressed hunger they sated themselves. Their bodies melded, soft against hard, silk against wool, and a fire blazed between them that blotted out all else except their awareness of each other.

He brought his hand to the back of her head and wove his slender fingers into her silken tresses; the kiss deepened as his tongue became a licking flame in her mouth. When the kiss finally ended, the flame licked the hollow of her throat and the rise of her breast as he pushed aside the fabric of her gown. Fire burned against her flesh in every place his tongue touched and she arched against him, eager to be consumed by it.

“Clarissa, my beautiful Clarissa,” he whispered. “No matter how hard I fight this, I can’t stop wanting you. There’s never an hour that you’re not in my thoughts. I am obsessed by you.”

She moved her hands from his chest to caress the sides of his face and he groaned with pleasure. “And I you.”

He cupped her against him and she linked her arms at the back of his neck as he bent his head to take her mouth again with greater intensity. “I tell myself that you are married but it doesn’t matter in what I feel. And I think you feel it, too.”

“Yes, oh yes,” she whispered.

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Thank you, Linda. Guests—please leave a message to be eligible to WIN a pdf copy of THIS TIME FOREVER.

Celia