Showing posts with label Kobo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kobo. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 06, 2018

Maxwell Bretherton of Love & Mayhem by Luanna Stewart @Luanna_Stewart #HistoricalRomance #Pirates #BritishGentry.



I'd like to welcome Maxwell Bretherton of Love & Mayhem by Luanna Stewart.  This will be the last post on this blog for the foreseeable future, as I am retiring.

RW:    What’s your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about YOU?
MB:    Good afternoon, allow me to introduce myself. Maxwell Bretherton, at your service. I believe I’ve led a somewhat exciting life to this point. It’s not every young man who sails from England to Canada to stake his claim only to be taken prisoner by a band of cutthroats and scoundrels and forced into a life of piracy on the high seas. Nor is every prisoner lucky enough to survive, purchase his freedom, and amass a small fortune.

RW:    What problems do you have to face and overcome in your life?
MB:    I just want to settle my parents’ meagre estate and return to my home on the island of Jamaica. I have no desire to remain in London longer than necessary—it’s too blasted cold, for one thing. I wish to be done with my past. My childhood was not the happiest. Oh, I was fed and clothed and sent to a good school, but I received little affection. My fondest memories are of the days spent with my friend, Oswald, and his family on their sheep farm. In fact, I’d been affianced to his young sister, Sybil, before I was kidnapped.

RW:    Do you expect your heroine to help or is she the problem?
MB:    Sybil is quickly becoming a thorn in my side. I’d thought her a pretty enough young lady when I last saw her and now she’s grown into quite a beauty. She’s also grown into a stubborn, headstrong, outspoken—woman—who seems to think she can get what she wants, regardless of society’s rules. This is 1883, not the time of the debauched Romans. A young lady cannot merely take a lover should the mood strike.
              
RW:    How are you coping with the conflict in your life?
MB:    I assure you I am coping quite well. I’ve explained to Sybil in no uncertain terms what I expect of the woman I’m to marry—and marry we will, regardless of her assertions to the contrary.

RW:    Cherries or Bananas? Leather or lace? Black or red?
MB:    I must say, those are bizarre questions. Bananas are rather puny and full of seeds. I’ve not eaten cherries in many years—perhaps I’ll see about importing some when I return to my home. Leather. I’ve not worn lace since infancy.

           Should you be asking my preference for a lady, then I’d say lace. Black or red what, exactly? If you are again speaking of attire, you can never go wrong with black. Though I do have a waistcoat embroidered with red flowers of some sort which has garnered several compliments.

RW:    When I’m alone, I (fill in the blank).
MB:    Ah, an easy answer. When I’m alone, I read. I have a sizable library at my home to which I’m constantly adding volumes. The climate can be a trial—damp is an enemy to books, as are insects. I most enjoy the biographies of men, and a few women, who have shaped the world. The great explorers and their feats of bravery hold me spellbound for hours at a time.

RW:    Those are all the questions we have for you. Thank you for speaking to us.
MB:    My pleasure. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a pirate to find.

Luanna Stewart

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. As soon as she discovered her grandmother's stash of romance novels, all plots had to lead to a happily-ever-after.

Luanna writes full time, concentrating on sexy romantic suspense, steamy paranormal romance, and spicy historical romance.

Born and raised in Nova Scotia, Luanna has recently returned to the land of her birth with her dear husband and two spoiled cats. When she's not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious.

Under her previous pen name of Grace Hood she has two novellas published with The Wild Rose Press.

Love and Mayhem

The Plot:

Sybil is happily on the shelf, tending to her sheep. But she fears she’ll depart this life without experiencing physical love, which she suspects is rather enjoyable. When her long-lost fiancé returns from sea, she decides he’s the lucky man who’ll receive her virginity.

Max is eager to return to his sugar plantation and has no intention of remaining long in London. However, he didn’t bargain on a wilful, pretty, exasperating spinster determined to take him to her bed.

He insists on marriage but she wants only his body. Her heart is not part of the deal. Unfortunately, love doesn’t always follow the rules.

Excerpt:

“I see all sorts of advantages to the married state.” He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing each knuckle in turn before kissing her palm. Then he flicked his tongue over the inside of her wrist. She bit back a moan. Who knew the wrist was such a sensitive spot?

She forced her mind back to the task at hand. Which, when you came to think of it, served the other task as well. Namely, getting him to flick his tongue on other sensitive parts of her body. She took a deep breath. “Some enjoy those advantages without the bother of a marriage ceremony.”

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Monday, August 20, 2018

Janna Kincaid, Targeted, by Beverley Bateman, @kelownawriter, #contemporarywestern, #romanticsuspense, #Hawkinsranchseries




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

JK:      I think I’m pretty normal. I work as a TV producer, and have a very successful, single life, but I have just inherited a ranch in Duster. I don’t want to go back to the town I was raised in, or the man I briefly married. I’m conflicted between the good memories and the bad ones of living there. But I have to go back to sign all the papers, even if I sell it. And then I have to figure out if I want the non-stop, stressful life in Seattle or the more relaxed family life with lots of support. Oh, and someone is trying to kill me.

RW:    What problems do you have to face and overcome in your life?

JK:      Right now, where do I start? I love the ranch and now I’m back I’m not sure I want to sell it. I spent a lot of my childhood there and have wonderful memories of it. I don’t want children, but I seem to have inherited a child and a dog. They’re now living with me on the ranch, and my mother is also staying there. And I love having everyone living with me. It won’t happen if I move back to Seattle. I’m still attracted to my ex-husband and I don’t want to be, because he wants to take care of me and I want to be independent. Oh, and someone is still trying to kill me for the ranch.

RW:    Do you expect your hero/ine to help or is s/he the problem?

JK:     He’s part of the problem. I married him once because I loved him but left and ran away. He never understood why I left, but he’s working so hard to understand now. And every time I have a problem he’s there to help me or save me from a killer.

RW:    Where do you live?

JK:     I live in Seattle, but I’ve inherited a ranch in Duster, Montana

RW:    During what time-period does your story take place?

JK:     The Present.

RW:    How are you coping with the conflict in your life?

JK:     Not very well, I’m afraid. It’s a little overwhelming. I’m taking one issue at a time, facing it and making a decision that I think works. It’s a slow process but I have most of the book to resolve everything—and survive.

RW:  Bubble baths or steamy showers? Ocean or mountains? Puppies or kittens? Chocolate or caramel?

JK:     Steamy showers, mountains, puppies and definitely chocolate.

RW:    If you came with a warning label, what would it say?

JK:     Touch carefully, can be prickly


RW:    Hunky heroes or average Joe?

JK:     Average Joe

RW:    Party life or quiet dinner for two?

JK:     Quiet dinner for two, by candlelight.

RW:    Those are all the questions I have for you. Thank you for speaking to me.

JK:     Thank you for having me.

Beverley Bateman

Bio

Murder, mystery and romance fills award-winning, Canadian author, Beverley Bateman’s life. She loves to plot, kill and hopefully baffle the reader. Her nursing and public health nursing background helps with some details and administering a community care facility program had her investigating and directing investigations into irregularities and sometimes death. She even has court experience.

She began writing in her preteens and loved to write locked room mysteries. Reading Nancy Drew helped her figure out plots. Facing breast cancer, she decided she needed to do what she’d always wanted and began to write. She completed her first romantic suspense novel and hasn’t stopped writing since. She recently moved and now lives among ranches and wheat fields in southern Alberta, with her husband and Shiba Inu dog.

Targeted
Hawkins Ranch Series—Kye’s Story

The Plot

After an eleven year absence Janna Kincaid inherits a ranch and is forced to return to a town she only remembers with unhappiness, a man to whom she was briefly married and never wants to see again, and someone is trying to kill her.

Kye Hawkins has loved Janna since he first met her. They were married, but a few weeks later she ran away without an explanation. He still hasn’t figured out why. Now she’s coming back. Does she still love him? Can he rekindle the romance and also prevent her from being killed?

Janna doesn’t want Kye’s help in any way, yet he always seems to be there when she’s in trouble. Can they work together to find a killer, save the Native burial ground and home of the spirits, and find romance again?

An Excerpt:

Someone had shot her back tire. Janna gripped the wheel to keep the vehicle on the road. She debated whether to try and outrun the shooter, wherever he was, or find cover. The windshield shattered as a third bullet entered the passenger side.

So much for outrunning the shooter.

She scanned the area and spotted an outcropping of rocks a few feet ahead on her right. She aimed the vehicle in that direction.

Two more shots, and both the back tires went down.

Definitely find cover.

Janna ducked low behind the steering wheel until the vehicle reached the rocks. When the car stopped, she grabbed the keys from the ignition and her purse and dove out the door. Bullets bounced off the rocks behind her as she scrambled for cover. Whoever was doing the shooting was serous. Anyone of the shots could have hit her.

She reached the rocks, keeping low until she got to the middle where she curled up as tightly as possible, her back against a rock. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breathing came in gasps. This was getting to be a habit. First someone tried to kill her in Seattle, and now, out in this god-forsaken country.

What the hell is going on? Why are they shooting at me? Was it the same person who shot at me in Seattle? That doesn’t seem likely, but who even knew I was coming here? Maybe it’s someone just trying to rob a stranger.

Yeah right, be honest, Janna, does this road look like many strangers came this way? And if they did, would they have a lot to steal? You really think this person selected a spot in the rocks where he would have a good shot at my vehicle. Coincidence? Not damn likely.

At least she’d worn boots and jeans—even if they were designer jeans. Now they were filthy, and so was her red sweater and jean jacket.

Another shot hit the rock behind her. She rolled over onto her stomach, shaded her eyes, and squinted into the sun. He must be up on the cliffs straight ahead. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she might have glimpsed a light, maybe a reflection off his scope.

Terrific! Now what? My gun is in my purse. I could fire back, but that would be a waste of bullets at this distance.

She yanked out her cell and punched in 9-1-1.

Damn—no reception.

A pounding pulsed through the ground and came closer. Janna could feel the vibrations. It felt like horses. She glanced around, without raising her head, to see what was coming.

Suddenly there was a hand in front of her face.

“Grab it and jump on.”

The deep, rumbling voice was not asking. It was an order.

Janna grabbed the strong hand. In one smooth motion, she swung up behind a man on his horse. Seconds later, she had her hands wrapped around his well-developed, muscular chest, as the big chestnut thundered across the ground, out of the bullets’ range.

The man wore a leather jacket over a sweater. Her hands slid under the jacket for better grip. Even through the sweater she could feel sinewy muscles. She laid her head against his back and his braid. She took a breath in, inhaling the rich scent of leather, trying to calm her racing heart rate.

She glanced behind her. The cliffs were fading into the distance. The muscles of his well-developed shoulders bunched and relaxed as he led the horse at a gallop across the field. She felt safe for some unfathomable reason.

He had a familiar woodsy scent that made her think of sex under pine trees, not that she’d ever made love there. In fact, her sex life was pretty negligible these days.

They’d been riding for several minutes when Janna leaned forward. “You can put me down any place. I can manage now.”

“Really? And just what are you going to do out here, miles from town, by yourself, with someone shooting at you?”

The voice was deep, but soft, and rolled over her like warmed brandy. It triggered something in the back of her memory. The earthy scent, the sinewy body, the braid, the voice… She knew this person who had ridden up out of nowhere to save her.

“I have my cell. I’ve already called 9-1-1,” she snapped.

“And did you get an answer?”

Janna yanked her cell phone up where she could see the screen again and re-tapped in 9-1-1. And then there was that famous phrase—No Service.

There was a deep chuckle. “That’s what I thought. There’s no service in this area. The mountains block it.”

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