All about me

By Anna Kathryn Lanier

Like some of my other bloggers, I don’t think my life is very interesting, but I know other people think differently.  I know some people who have never driven further than 50 miles from where they were born.  People ask me where I’m from.  Well….my father was in the Air Force. I’m from all over.  I’ve lived in eight states, three of them twice, one U. S. Territory and a foreign country. Here are my wanderings:  I was born in Kansas and at 18 months, I moved to California, where we moved a couple of times to different towns.  My earliest memories are from there, the first true memories included (not what family said, or what the home movies showed).  When I was six, we moved to Guam for two years, then to North Carolina.  From there, we went to Texas. Dad retired from the Air Force while at Carswell AFB in Ft. Worth. Then we followed my mom’s career as a restaurant manager and went to New Mexico, first Las Cruces (where I graduated high school) and then to Albuquerque.  Oh, wait, it was between my junior and senior year that I went to Finland as an exchange student.  Okay, so after graduating high school when I came back from Finland, I moved to Albuquerque, got married and moved to Colorado, where I had my first daughter; then we all moved back to New Mexico before going to Louisiana. 

(Jim and me)

In Louisiana, my husband did the best thing he could ever do for me….he left me for his pregnant girlfriend.  A few months later, I met a man who had just moved into my apartment complex. Less than a year later, Jim and I were married and moving to West Virginia.  There I had another daughter.  I lived six years in Charleston, the longest I’d lived in one house my whole life.  We then moved back to Louisiana and lived there, in the same house, for eight years. My husband was transferred to Houston, Texas and we’ve been here for 10 years….officially the longest I’ve lived anywhere.  We’ve been married for over 24 years, too.

(Me and my two daughters, Tiffany and Holly)

It was while living in Albuquerque for the second time that I wrote my first romance novels, long-hand in spiral notebooks.  When in Louisiana for the first time (right after my husband left me), I submitted my first book to Harlequin.  Since I knew nothing of synopsis, agents, or even writing, it was rejected outright!  No surprise there, knowing what I know now!  While in West Virginia and back in Louisiana, I didn’t really write, I was busy with my two girls, church and Girl Scouts (I was a leader for 13 years).

It wasn’t until moving to Texas ten years ago that I got serious about writing again.  I wrote two novels in 6 months and, though they suck, they did get me back into the writing mode.  I took a Creative Writing Class at the local community college and learned that I knew NOTHING about writing—I mean, double spacing, one-inch margins AND you don’t justify?  I also learned about local writing groups and Romance Writers of America.  It was a few years afterward that I was published.  I now have several short stories and novellas out there, but no full-length novel.

(I love this picture of the grandkids, Emma, Lacey and Ethan)

(At my mother's 70th Birthday Party...all dressed up)

My two girls grew up, as kids will do and married (and divorced), but I have 3 grandchildren, Ethan, Emma and Lacey.  One daughter remarried and she, her new, better husband and Lacey live with my husband and me. (My family seems to do better the second time around….I don’t know why that is).

In 2005, I decided to finally go to college. I went to the same community college I’d taken the creative writing classes and enrolled.  In 2007, at the age of 47, I got an Associate of Arts degree in Education/History. I was going to go on and get the full Bachelor’s degree, but life got in the way, namely in the name of said grandchildren.  Instead, I’ve started substitute teaching.  I’m enjoying that, since I don’t have deal with parents, lesson planning or administration. (Though I did get called to the principal’s office once, because I left a teacher a ‘goodie bag’ with information about my books….)

My first romances were contemporaries, then I wrote two historicals, one set in America in the 1780’s and one in Texas in the 1840’s….none of them are publishable.  I worked on another historical (full-length), and some short stories, most of those contemporary.   As said, the shorts are published, the full-length is being revised, with hopes of FINALLY being publishable!

I have a blog that I keep fairly active with recipes, guest bloggers, reading suggestions and odds and ends, http://annakathrynlanier.blogspot.com/ and my website, with info on my stories, is at www.annakathrynlanier.com.

So, there’s my life, mostly.  Plain and ordinary, except for the voices in my head!

Who I am

I agreed to write about me for the August blog, but didn't realize how hard it would be. I've lived a fairly uneventful life.

Born in San Jose, California, my dad moved us to NE Oregon when I was two. There had been a rape in the park next to our house and having grown up in the rural areas of Texas and Nebraska he didn’t want us to live in fear.

We arrived in Wallowa Valley an isolated county rimmed by mountains. It's beautiful and has been called "Little Switzerland". There is one road in from La Grande, OR and if you aren't faint of heart one road out to Lewiston, Idaho. My daughter took my mother-in-law on this road when her older sister was in college in Wyoming. My daughter said she found it hard to drive with her grandmother in her lap. The road is very narrow and clings to the side of the cliffs with a sheer drop.

Growing up I spent my days doing chores on our 200 acres, riding my horse, reading along the river, and swimming in the river. It was an ideal setting to grow up in, but I found the small town gossip and nosiness wasn't for me.

I headed to college in Klamath Falls, after working my butt off to stay in the program one professor who insisted when I started I should do the three year program graded my lab reports so low I couldn't have passed with a C unless I scored a 99 on the final. I scored 98 and ended up leaving the program all together. It had been my dad's idea for me to be an x-ray technician and not mine. I wanted to go to an art school.

A high school friend had moved to Bend and was looking for a roommate. I moved in with her, learned she'd changed considerably when "men" showed up at the duplex at all hours of the night and she'd dress up and go out.

I met my husband at an Under 21 club. A girl I worked with talked me into going with her. I was 19 at the time and all the boys there looked to be 15 & 16. When a male walked in who looked my age, I strolled over to him and asked him to dance. He had laughing eyes, curly blonde hair and muscles. We danced and he said his buddies were supposed to meet him. As the night wore on his friends didn't show and my friend had to leave. My future husband said he could take me home. We walked to his pickup, an old flat black International. He had to unlock the passenger side because the driver's side lock didn't work. He slid through and then I got in. It smelled of cow manure. He was working at a feedlot. At the duplex, he came in and we kissed until he tried to put his hands under my shirt. I told him it was time for him to leave. I figured I'd never see him again. The next night someone knocked on the door. I answered and there stood my husband grinning like a fool and asking if I'd like to go to a movie. He later told me it was my sending him away when he got fresh that impressed him.

We married when we were both twenty-one and within nine months our first daughter was born. We lived in a couple of mouse infested houses as he started his trucking business and added two more biological children. The last one came after we purchased a new house. Later we adopted a boy through children's services.

While we both decided early on in our marriage we didn't want to farm any more, we ended up purchasing a 69 acre piece or property and started raising cattle and hay. Now that the kids are gone and return occasionally with our eight grandchildren we now own 350 acres and raise alfalfa hay as well as the cattle.

During all of this my husband learned I'm not happy unless I'm writing whether for pleasure or for profit. He supports my writing and I support his tractor addiction. ;)

Paty
www.patyjager.net
www.patyjager.blogspot.com

USING REAL LIFE STORIES FOR INSPIRATION

Our guest author is Dr. Debra Holland, author of the sweet western romances WILD MONTANA SKY and STARRY MONTANA SKY. In addition to writing romances, Debra is a professional psychotherapist in Beverly Hills, California and the author of numerous non-fiction books. You can learn more abut her at her http://www.drdebraholland.com/

Here's Debra:

USING REAL LIFE STORIES FOR INSPIRATION

Unlike a lot of people who have written for this blog, I don’t have pioneer ancestors. My mother’s parents came from Germany, and my father’s from Norway. Therefore, Western stories aren’t part of my heritage. However, as an American, growing up in the United States, I absorbed history taught in school, as well as Western television shows, movies, and books. Somehow the rich culture of the West seeped into my blood becoming part of who I am. I’m sure this is true for many Americans.

My German grandmother, Martha, grew up on her father’s estate, and even though she had a governess, she was allowed to run wild, getting herself into plenty of adventures. As a young teen, I was fascinated with her stories, and resolved to write about them when I grew up. Once I’d finished my Ph.D (and spent several years recovering) and was ready to write again, I turned to my grandmother’s stories.

By that time, my grandmother was in her mid eighties, and had forgotten a lot of the details I want for a book. So I just wrote down what she remembered and turned some of her individual escapades into short stories. Along the way of learning to write fiction, I discovered Romance Writers of America, which changed my life because I started to write romance--sweet historical Westerns.

I put children into my stories, and by the second book found my grandmother’s experiences served as rich fodder for the kinds of trouble that children could get into. Even though her escapades had taken place in Germany (about 25 years later then the time of my books) I could easily adapt them to Montana.

In the first story I chose, Martha had been spending the summer at her aunt’s estate. Her older cousin was getting married that day, and Martha was all dressed up. One of the wedding guests was a girl her age, and Martha took her on a tour of the stables. In the back of the barn, were several hay stacks and the girls started jumping on them. (I’m sure it was my grandmother’s idea.)

Martha jumped on one that turned out to be a hill of manure covered with straw. She rapidly sank, and, when she couldn’t immediately free herself, was afraid she might suffocate. Luckily, it only came to her chin, and she was able to escape. Her aunt was enrage when she caught sight of Martha covered in manure, only a little while before the start of the wedding. Martha was popped into a tub, and her aunt welded the scrubbrush so hard, it hurt.

I took my grandmother’s experience and wrote it into the second book. The children played on a haystack, and one of them unknowingly jumped into the manure pile.

Many American children in the 19^th and 20^th centuries grew up fascinated by cowboys and Indians. That interest wasn’t just confined to American children.



Great grandfather's pipes



Another of my grandmother’s escapades that I used happened because she’d been hearing or reading about the Indians in America. She was taken with the idea of passing the peace pipe with one her friends. So she stole her father’s pipe and led the boy behind the barn. She lit the pipe, and they smoked it. Of course they became sick.

My grandmother had plenty of other adventures, some of which I intend to use in future stories. There are others that, unfortunately, I can’t adapt to Montana in the 1890’s—for example running off to see the gypsies to have her fortune told, or climbing onto the roof of the barn to investigate the stork nest built on top of the wagon wheel.

Whether or not I used my grandmother’s stories in my books, encouraging her to tell them to me and writing them down has given me a treasure trove of family history. (She even told me stories that her great-grandmother shared with her.) With my grandmother’s passing, I’ve become the family historian.

I encourage you to record in some manner your family history. You never know what future generations will do with it.

Here's an excerpt from STARRY MONTANA SKY. Let me explain that Mariposa is Jack's horse:　

Jack ran to the nearest haystack, scrambling up its slippery side. There was a trick to the climb, involving shoving the toes and hands deep into the hay. The blades scratched and tickled his hands, and he breathed in the dusty-sweet scent. Ever since he’d arrived here, he’d been wantin’ to jump on these stacks, but he’d always been too busy with school and chores. But they’d been there, beckoning.

The other boys scampered right behind him to the top, then juggled next to him, trying to stay in a bunch. Sara struggled with the climb, hampered by her dress. As she leaned forward, her long brown hair trailed, picking up wispy spikes. He snickered. Soon she’d look like a yeller porcupine. Lizzy settled herself on a hay bale near the barn, seemingly content to watch.

Which first? Leap to the next mound, or skim down like an otter on a mudslide and climb back up again?

Daniel solved the problem for him. Flinging his arms behind, then forward, he dove to the next haystack. Popping to his feet, he balanced on the top, flailing his arms, and laughing.

Jack ground his teeth. I’m first. Not waiting, he bounded across, pushing Daniel aside when he landed. "Out of my way."

Losing his grin, Daniel flopped onto his back. Before he had time to get up, Tim sailed through the air. Jack caught a glimpse of the mischievous look on his brother’s face. Then Tim shoved him, and Jack fell across Daniel’s stomach. With a wuff of expelled air, Daniel’s chest caved.

"Hey." Daniel punched Jack in the side. "Get off me."

With a grin, Jack rolled off.

Tim thrust his arms in the air. "I’m king of the hill."

Jack reached over, hooked Tim’s ankle, and flipped him down. "Ain’t no more."

From the other stack, Mark called, "Make room, or I’m landing on you."

Jack bounced to his feet. Ignoring Daniel, he grasped his brother’s hand, pulling him up. "See if ya can," he called to Mark.

Mark jumped, lunging into Jack. They grappled for position. Daniel’s feet slid over the side, dragging Tim down, but by clinging to Tim’s leg, Daniel managed not to slip off.

In his fall, Tim jerked at Jack’s arm. At the same time, on his other side, Mark pushed at Jack. As he fell, Jack stubbornly clung to Mark’s shoulders, taking him down with him. Laughing, they all lay sprawled over each other like a litter of puppies. Jack felt funny inside, like a lantern had been lit in his chest, and he couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face.

He glanced over at the other stack. Sara stood with her hands on her hips. That mule look settled on her face. "My turn."

Jack jostled the other boys aside to get to his feet. "No, ya ain’t. Ain’t no room for girls over here."

With a few pushes, the other boys shuffled to their feet.

"No girls. No girls." Daniel chanted."No girls. No girls." As all the boys joined in, the chorus swelled.

Sara’s face turned as red as his old winter longjohns. She shook her fist at them.

A gang. He and Tim and Daniel and Mark. All together. For the first time ever, Jack felt the power of belonging, of not being on the outside. In a heady rush, he raised his voice even louder. "No girls."

Sara stuck her nose in the air and turned away from them.

Jack laughed, feeling triumphant.

With a swift movement, she gathered up her skirt with one hand, flung her other arm back and forth and hurdled toward the other mound.

Oh, Lordy. Jack opened his mouth to yell a warning, but it was too late. Sara landed feet first on top of the straw-covered manure pile. She twisted to face them and swiftly sank. Her eyes bulged in horror.

Jack couldn’t help the snicker that burst from him. Sara sure looked funny up to her knees in manure, her formerly clean white dress bunching up in the top of the muck.

"Don’t laugh at me!" she screamed.

Jack chortled. He’d never seen anything so hilarious in his life. She was goin’ to stink to high heaven.

"I’m sinking."

She was. Up to her hips. Jack’s amusement sizzled up faster than water sprinkled on a hot skillet, replaced by a bolt of terror. That manure pile was a lot higher than Sara. In a minute, she’d be over her head. She’d drown in shit, and it would be all his fault.

His heart thumping fit to burst, he plummeted down the haystack.

Apparently realizing her danger, Sara screamed--piercing shrieks that normally would have made him clamp his hands over his ears. But instead, he frantically dug his way into the smelly muck.

She sank, already mired to her shoulders. He knew he had only seconds to reach her. As he worked, her body lowered more, her neck covering up. Her eyes bulged with fear, and the screaming changed to whimpers that tore at him with the sharpness of a bear’s claws. On either side of him, the other boys joined him, each burrowing like a dog after a bone.

Sara plunged down farther. She tilted her chin back, straining to keep her face free. The whimpering cut off. Jack knew she didn’t dare move her mouth.

His tunneling hands struck something. Sara’s arm. "I’ve got her!" he yelled. He pulled. The mound refused to release her. He thrust his arm in deeper, his face pressing into her shoulder.

Breathing in the stench, he wiggled his fingers across her back until they curled around her side. Like a draft horse, he pulled. Her body shifted a few inches toward him. His ear pressed to her chest, and he could hear her heart fluttering like a bird caught in a trap. At least she wouldn’t sink any deeper.

"I’ll hold her. You guys dig her out."

Mark scooped dung from around her front; Tim and Daniel tackled her backside. As she loosened, Jack pulled her out a few inches more. Looking up at her face, he saw tears streaking down her sludge-splattered cheeks.

"Got you," he whispered to her. "Won’t let ya go."

She swallowed and gave a slight nod, as if she were afraid to move.

"Be all right." He spoke to her gentle-like as if she was Mariposa. "Have ya out in a hog’s breath."

The terror in her blue eyes changed to trust, and it stabbed into his gut deeper than a knife. No one had ever looked at him like that. And he didn’t deserve it now. His teasing had gotten her into this, but he wouldn’t let her down.

By now the boys, covered in muck themselves, had freed Sara to her waist. Jack wrapped his other arm around her shivering body squeezing her in his embrace.

Bracing his feet, he yanked her out. With a sucking sound, she shot free, the unexpected momentum carrying them backwards and down to the ground. With a thud that knocked the wind out of him, Jack fell flat on his back, Sara jarring on top of him. For a moment, he lay there, hearing his own harsh breaths and feeling her safe in his arms.

She drooped her head onto his chest, her back shuddering with her sobs. Protectiveness rose in him. Awkwardly, he tightened one arm around her and patted her shoulder with the other hand. "Got ya safe, now. No need for that there cryin’."

Mark dropped to his knees beside them, his freckled face pale. "Sara, Sara." He added his pats to Jack’s. "I’m sorry, Sara. I’m so sorry."

Lizzy crouched down by Sara’s head, fluttering finger touches on her sister’s head and crooning. The concern on the tiny girl’s face made Jack feel lower than a snake’s belly.

Sara rolled her head to look Jack in the eyes. The drenched blue of her gaze melted the walls he held around his heart. "You saved my life."

Uncomfortable, he loosened his arms. "I ain’t no hero."

"Yes, you are," she insisted, laying her head back on his chest.

For more information about Debra, go to her website, http://www.drdebraholland.com/ The buy link for the two books mentioned above is http://www.tinyurl.com/3mx5hl9 

 

 

Welcome to my World, aka. Mini-autobiography

I grew up on the South Plains, in the northwest portion of West Texas, on the flat table-top Caprock, where the sky looked like a big blue bowl turned upside down on a sea of green cotton or brown plowed dirt. There’s something sacred about it, holding the clean, pure air and sky and land in my heart.

It was the best of times, “the Nifty Fifties", labeled conservative, a classic American era, in which all was right in our country. But the entire population was in the throes of dying innocence, with Elvis, the Hydrogen bomb, the McCarthy hearings, and Marilyn Monroe leading us along. America would never be the same again.

And so in the sixties, the social revolution began. Young men burned their draft cards and young women burned their bras.

Well, I didn't have a draft card, and my bra wasn't big enough to make much of a flame…so I put my two young children with a babysitter, and began college…at age 27.

I married very young. My husband and I took turns going to college for degrees. He earned two, and then it was my turn, back and forth, all the time raising our kids and working, too. Between us, we have five degrees—but I'm not the one with the doctorate.

Thank God for the G.I. Bill.

My life is divided into clear-cut sections. Now? I'm in a wonderful place, where I can "do my own thing." I learned to play golf first, and for years competed for quarters and sometimes a little trophy. Then, due to odd circumstances, I quit golf and took up writing stories. That was in 2004.

I'd like to invite you into my world, where I live and write novels. This place is in Central Texas, and even though we're in a drought right now, I won't live anyplace else. Why? Because it's home, and I feel tied to it just as I did the High Plains.

We live in a big subdivision, which was divided into three-acres plots about forty years ago. My desk sits beside a window so I can look through the sceened-in porch and out the back and watch all kinds of wildlife meander to the bird bath and water bucket.

This is the screened-in porch. Some of the deer, like this doe and her twin walk right up to the back door, knowing that's where that human appears with water, and sometimes vegetable peelings, stale bread, and cantaloupe rinds or banana peelings.

A red fox sneaks up early in the mornings and drinks from the bucket. Then she scurries away toward the back.

My back "yard" resembles typical ranchland around here—live oaks intermingled with a few mesquites and sometimes the juniper (misnamed cedar), which sucks up water ten times more than any other tree. We cut those down.

While I look out on what was once a ranch, I daydream about our pioneers who settled Texas 150 years ago or more. This photo is one of my ancestors. In this beautiful picture, taken around 1840, she is 16 years old, dressed up for her portrait. People like her inspire me to write Western Historical romances.

Two of my books: The Cameron Sisters



TEXAS PROMISE-BOOK I



TEXAS TRUE-BOOK II

These are the last of the Camerons of Texas series. Please leave a comment to enter a drawing for one of these novels.

Thank you for visiting….

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas  
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com http://www.celiayeary.com

http://sweetheartsofthewest.blogspot.com/ 

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.