Sunday, September 18, 2016

Introducing Ruby Silver from #Wild-Wild-Ghost, #The-Good-The-Bad-The-Ghostly, by Margo Bond Collins @MargoBondCollin






RW:       What’s your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about YOU?
RS:        I used to be a demon hunter, until a demon got the better of my partner and me in a church in New Mexico. I walked away from that. My partner didn’t. Now the scariest things I hunt are ghosts—but only to avoid the memories that haunt me.

RW:       Can you tell us about your hero
RS:     Trip Austin is a ghost-hunter for The Tremayne Psychic Specter Investigations Agency. Technically, he’s the senior agent, and I’m the junior agent. However, I’m the one with the psychic ability.

RW:       What problems do you have to face and overcome in your life?
RS:        I’m still trying to get over the death of my last partner. I can’t fact my past, or my fear that I might have caused his death.

RW:      Do you expect your hero to help or is he the problem?
RS:        He is the problem—or at least, he might as well be. I can work on my own. I don’t need anyone’s help.

RW:        Where do you live?
RS:        I go wherever my company tells me, but I prefer to work out west. Right now, we’re working a poltergeist case in the Texas Hill Country.

RW:       During what time period does your story take place?
RS:        In the nineteenth century.

RW:        How are you coping with the conflict in your life?
RS:         I ran and buried myself in my new job. I’m doing my best to never look back, but my new partner won’t let me hide from what I’m feeling.

RW:        Those are all the questions we have for you. Thank you for speaking to us.




Author Interview: Margo Bond Collins

RW:        What is the best thing about being a writer?
MBC:     Being able to create worlds that other people love to visit!

RW:       Cherries or Bananas? Leather or lace? Black or red? Mud Bath or Oily Massage?
MBC:     Cherries, lace, black, oily massage.

RW:        If you came with a warning label, what would it say?
MBC:     Warning: Unexpected Snark.

RW:     After you’ve written your book and it’s been published, do you ever buy it and/or read it?
MBC:     I always buy it; I don’t read it until I’m ready to write a sequel.

RW:        Have you experienced writer’s block? If so, how did you work through it?
MBC:     Often. When I’m good and stuck, I switch where and how I write. I usually write in my office on a laptop, but if I’m having writer’s block, I’ll take a notebook and pen and go to a coffee shop or even just to another room. The change of scenery and writing implements seems to jar me out of my rut and get me going again.

RW:        Satin sheets or Egyptian cotton?
MBC:     Cotton!

RW:        You’d never be able to tell, but (fill in the blank).
MBC:     I am painfully shy. I’ve been a college professor for many years, so I’ve gotten used to speaking in public (more or less), but it’s draining. I love talking to readers at conferences, but afterwards, I have to collapse in a heap to recover.



Wild Wild Ghost
by Margo Bond Collins

With everyone she loves in the grave, Ruby specializes in the dead.

Trip wants to bring her back to the land of the living.

When Ruby Silver traded in her demon-hunting rifle for a Tremayne Agency badge, she didn’t want another partner—losing the last one was too traumatic. But when a new case in the Texas Hill Country pairs her up with the slow-talking, fast-drawing Trip Austin, it will take all their combined skills to combat a plague of poltergeists in this German-settled town.

Excerpt:

Realizing that all the broken glass flying past him had been swept up into the whirlwind of glass around the woman, he dropped Bandit’s reigns. "Stay here," he instructed. The stallion rolled its eyes at him, but nickered. Trip didn’t bother to tether the animal; his horse wasn’t going anywhere without him.

If exploding glass didn’t startle him, nothing would.

For that matter, neither did various ilk of ghosts and beasts. Bandit was steady, even if he had a tendency to bite strangers.

Was this woman really supposed to be his new partner?

When he’d gotten the telegram from the Tremayne headquarters back in St. Louis, he had laughed aloud. Trip knew there were lady agents—he’d even worked with one a time or two—but they had all been stationed back east. No lone woman in her right mind would want to come out here to work.

Not when there were plenty of ghosts to be exorcised in civilized places.

Safer places.

I guess maybe this one’s not in her right mind, then.

Might not be a bad idea to remember that.

He watched the glass-cyclone sweep up the dust around her, the cloud of dirt thickening until he couldn’t see the woman at all, and reconsidered.

If she can cause something like that happen, maybe she’s plenty safe out here, after all.

As Trip made his way toward her, the glass-and-dirt devil rose into the air. He stopped to watch it ascend. Then, with a noise like a crack of thunder, it was gone. Trip had the vague impression that it had sped away toward the wilds rather than merely disappearing into nothingness, but he couldn’t have pointed to any particular evidence that made him think that.

Smoothing her hands down the sides of the painted horse’s face, the woman murmured something soothing in a tone that made Trip realize he had been hearing her voice all along, a soft alto hum rising and falling under the whipping and tinkling sound of the glass tornado, somehow more noticeable now in its absence than it had been during the strange events on the street.

The horse huffed out a breath, and the woman laughed. The sound of it sent an odd shiver up Trip’s back—not of anxiety, but of interest.

Don’t be stupid, man. You haven’t even seen her face yet.

And he couldn’t tell anything about her body under that horror of a dress.

Reaching up, she untied the bonnet from under her chin and removed it to shake off the dirt. A silken fall of blonde hair cascaded out of it and down her back, and Trip stopped to stare, frozen by the glint of midday Texas sun off its golden sheen.

By the time he moved again, she had begun brushing off her skirt in sharp, efficient motions.

“Ruby Silver?” he asked when he was close enough to speak without shouting.

As she spun around, it occurred to him belatedly that it might not be a good idea to sneak up on a woman who could turn flying glass into a tornado and make it disappear.


About the Author

Margo Bond Collins is addicted to coffee and SF/F television, especially Supernatural. She writes paranormal and contemporary romance, urban fantasy, and paranormal mystery. She lives in Texas with her daughter and several spoiled pets. Although she teaches college-level English courses online, writing fiction is her first love. She enjoys reading urban fantasy and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about heroes, vampires, ghosts, werewolves, and the women who love (and sometimes fight) them.

Contact Margo:


Join her street team, The Vampirarchy, here: http://www.facebook.com/groups/vampirarchy

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Meet Brett “Hot Rod” Harris from #Everything-his-Heart-Desires by Patricia Preston @pat_preston




RW:       What’s your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about YOU?

HR:        My name’s Brett Harris, nickname Hot Rod. I’m a lot of fun. I’m confident, ambitious, smart, flirty. Totally Type A. I’m a cardiologist and I collect muscle cars. Girls dig that I’m a doctor. Guys envy my cars.

RW:        Can you tell us about your heroine
HR:        Natalie was once my lab partner in high school. The Cutest Girl in Class. She drove me nuts back then. I picked on her a lot and she dumped a bowl of banana pudding on my head once. She considers me an asshole. Of course, I kinda had a secret crush on her but she was the rich girl who was out of reach for me. And, yes, I was an asshole, but I was seventeen back then.

RW:       What problems do you have to face and overcome in your life?
HR:        I have overcome a lot. I grew up on Trinity Road, the rough side of town. Nothing good ever came from Trinity Road. I never knew who my father was, and my mother didn’t want me so my uncle, who owned an auto repair shop, raised me. I was determined to do better, to make something of myself. What I really want now is to become head of the cardiology department. But the hospital CEO thinks I’m an asshole.

RW:      Do you expect your heroine to help or is she the problem?
HR:      She’s supposed to help. That’s the deal we’ve got going. But having Natalie in my life is creating problems. She’s changed a lot and I’m getting really hung up on her. Even worse than in high school.

RW:       Where do you live?
HR:        Lafayette Falls, Tennessee.

RW:       During what time period does your story take place?
HR:       The current time period.

RW:        How are you coping with the conflict in your life?
HR:        I’ve never been a loser so I’m not giving up. I never quit or give up. That’s not in my DNA.


RW:       If money were not an object, where would you most like to live?
HR:      I’m happy in Lafayette Falls, but I could handle a tropical island.

RW:       Are you in control of your author or does she control you?
HR:       I’m definitely in control. That’s just me. I think I’m her favorite out of all the heroes in her stories. She has a special place in her heart for me.

RW:       You’re always ready for—
HR:      I’m always ready for a drive in one of my muscle cars: Rhonda the Roadrunner, Cathy the Camaro, Molly the Mustang, Farrah the Firebird. They are my girls. Hey, they even put a ’65 Mustang on the book cover. That’s what I’m talking about.

RW:      That’s all the questions we have for you. Thank you for speaking to us.
HR:      Thanks for having me and I hope you’ll enjoy my story. It’s sexy and fun (like me), and it even has a thug cat in it named Pharaoh. He belongs to Natalie’s thug grandmother, Anna. I have a rough time in this story.
RW:     Speaking as a grandma with granddaughters old enough to date, I only turn into a thug when guys mistreat my girls. And cats are sensitive to who’s good and who isn’t. Are you sure you’ve reformed? I’d like to introduce you to Tinkerbelle and Acey and see what they think. I’m fairly sure I have photos of them in the sidebar.

Say Hi to Brett in the comments and you’ll be entered in a drawing to win Everything his Heart Desires available in Jan 2017. You can meet Brett in Book 1, One Week in his Arms, available Sept 2016.

Your Bio:

Patricia Preston writes witty mainstream romances. You are her reader if you like fun, passionate, feel-good reads. She is currently writing contemporary romance for Kensington’s Lyrical Shine imprint and she is represented by the Seymour Agency. Her awards include the William Faulkner Award for Short Fiction, the Lone Star Writing Competition for Historical Romance, and Harlequin’s World’s Best Romances Short Story Competition, and her short Southern comedies have made the Amazon best seller list in Comedy. Her current project, Love Heals All series, is set in a fictional Tennessee town, Lafayette Falls, south of Nashville where romance causes havoc, heartache, and humor for a cast of unsuspecting doctors until they realize love heals all.

Must haves in her writing cave include sweet tea, epic music, and plenty of notebooks. Besides writing, she loves music, history, photography, clearance sales, and anything containing chocolate. Her dream-come-true home would be a townhouse in the French Quarter.

ONE WEEK IN HIS ARMS

THE PLOT

The man most likely to drive her crazy…

Growing up in Lafayette Falls, senator’s daughter Natalie Layton hid her sorrows behind a bright smile that charmed everyone in high school—except Brett Harris. Hardworking and highly motivated, Brett dismissed Natalie as a slacker. Instead, she’s become an acclaimed photographer. And when Brett, now a successful cardiologist, needs her family’s help to secure a coveted position, Natalie’s more than happy to prescribe a little payback.

Hailing from the wrong side of the tracks, Brett believed he could never win the school’s popular princess. Now he’s intrigued by the complex and compassionate woman Natalie’s become. Gaining her grandmother’s goodwill is the key to becoming chief cardiologist—and Natalie has no intention of making it easy. But as mutual mistrust gives way to pure chemistry, there’s more at stake than either ever expected—and much more to learn about matters of the heart.

Excerpt:

The elevator hydraulics sighed as the door closed. He glanced toward her. She looked directly at him and smiled. Her face went perfectly with her lean body and stylish clothes. She had full lips painted a soft mauve color, a straight nose, and bold blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires as she pinned him with a gaze that would have fired up the pistons in any man.

She was fine, and he was available. So there you go.
“I’ve heard we’re going to have great weather this weekend,” he said, throwing some bait her way. He tapped the elevator handrail. For the first time ever, he wished the elevator would move a little slower.

She batted those baby blues at him. “There’s a storm coming.”

A storm? He had watched the weather report on TV before he left his house. Sunny autumn weekend, high in the seventies, no rain. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain of it,” she insisted with a swift lowering of her lashes. She had a breathy voice with a slight lilt. She didn’t sound local. Her accent was cosmopolitan like a newscaster’s. No regional drawl.

She flashed him a tempestuous smile. “I love storms. Thunder and lightning can be very sexy at night.”

Whoa. Damn. He raked back his dark hair. The elevator passed the fourth floor. With his motor running, he cut his eyes toward her, and she didn’t shy away from direct eye contact. She gave him the once-over as if she were sizing him up. Then she wet her lips. Kinda like she was silently saying, I’m great at oral sex.

I love bad girls! If he had been a Christmas tree, every light on him would have been glowing. Where had she been all his life?

Contacts:





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