The writing prompt for one of the other blogs I write for – The Romance Gems for the month of January 2020 is WHAT’S NEXT. For the purposes of that blog it can be anything to do with our lives, travels, what we’re writing…really anything that’s going to make 2020 a memorable year.
My blog post for Romance Gems went up this week and it was a personal story you can read here: RGBlog.
But today I want to talk about what’s next for me on a professional level.
In 2019 I had 3 new books released. DIRTY DAMSELS – a DotComGirls book , was released in July by Limitless Publishers ( who dropped me right after the book was out!)
TODAY, TOMORROW, ALWAYS (Book 2 in A Match Made in Heaven) came out December from Wild Rose Press,
and IT’S A TRUST THING -my very first indie work came out in November. It was originally book 2 in the DotComGirls series, but when Limitless said “no” I decided to publish it on my own.
For 2020 I’ve got a bunch of stuff on my writing plate.
on January 13, A PRIDE OF BROTHERS: RICK released from the WRP. It’s my first published Romantic Suspense Lite and I’m thrilled it’s the first in a 3 book series.
I’ve just contracted for a summer release of a Sweet Romance titled VANILLA WITH A TWIST for the Wild Rose Press. This will be an ongoing listing of books, ala the Deerbourne Inn series, about summer, ice cream, and romance. Yay! I’ll be posting about this during the year with release dates, covers, etc.
I’ve just finished the third Match Made in Heaven book, BAKED WITH LOVE and that will be off to my editor within the month for review. Hopefully it will be released by Christmas.
I’m also writing the third DotComGirls book, WOKE and I hope to release it independently by the summer.
In addition to all that I’ve got Book 2 in A PRIDE OF BROTHERS:DYLAN mapped out. Dylan Keane is a cross between MacGyver and Roarke. I’m so in love with him it’s ridiculous!!
So, 2020 looks like it’ll be a busy and productive year for my writing career. Good thing I’m retired, right? Heehee
One of my favorite and prolific Wild Rose Press sistahs, Linda Nightingale, has a new book out just in time for Halloween and all things vampire and sexy related, titled, SINNER’S OPERA!
She’s brought along her hero today for an interview, so you’re in luck because you get to read a real live Interview with a Vampire! Hee hee. Sit back and enjoy…..-
Interview with Morgan D’Arcy, Earl of St. Averil, concert pianist, and…vampire.
When did you become a vampire? I was infected with the virus that mutates human DNA in 1659 in France. Of course, at that time, I only knew I’d been drained near death, fed blood from my vampire mother’s veins, and woke up immortal and craving blood. Within days she was destroyed, and I was orphaned with mind-blowing powers that I didn’t know how to control.
Do you drink blood or are you a psychic vampire? Personally, I believe psychic vampires are more dangerous. I’m a blood drinker. Except for giving pleasure in my vampire kiss, I don’t interfere with people’s lives…well, with one exception, but that’s another story.
What’s the worst thing about being a vampire? Loss of the sunlight. I’d love to see the sun shining on the blue ocean below my ancestral home. Royal Oak perches on a hill above a hamlet on the west coast of Devon. I can see the black ocean from my bedroom window…a tragedy really. The craving for blood runs a close second. It’s like a living thing stinging your veins and is completely irresistible. I can shield against the desire but it takes a lot of effort. Because I love her, Isabeau is my greatest challenge.
Are you a magical creature or are you a different species? I’m a magically different species. (he laughs) The cross has no effect on me, but I am light sensitive. You can see me in mirrors, thank God, because I’d hate to comb my long hair blind. Somehow it managed to tangle, even though I don’t move at all in my daily sleep! When I was a child, sometimes our cook used too much garlic, and I detest its smell, but it has no other effect on me.
Do you enjoy being a vampire? Most times. Of course, being a vampire does present problems, sorrow and regret creeping up on you when you least expect it. Blood lust endangers the ones you love the most.
How do you feel about humans? I’m in love with a mortal woman to the dismay of the Vampyre Council and to my own danger. I judge humans the way I judge vampires or any other species—by their actions. But I do have to admit that beauty is high on my list of priorities. My mortal love, Isabeau, is a beautiful, intelligent geneticist. She is the culmination of centuries of dreams.
Where are you from? I was born in 1632 in Devon, England.
What is your life goal for a life spanning centuries? A race of immortals with human morals and gentleness—half-vampire and half-human to bridge the treacherous gulf between the two quite different species.
Do you have a code of honor? I’m a relic from the Restoration era. My code of honor is often influenced by that mortal man who became the vampire Morgan D’Arcy. Now, in the middle seventeenth century, the aristocracy drank to excess, whored, and…I try not to allow this time of my life to rule my actions. The Vampyre Council, Les Elus, has the end say, but I’m a rebel at heart.
What makes you angry? Lucien St. Albans and Les Elus. Both stand in the way of my life purpose. Les Elus forbids the creation of a DarkeChilde, a vampire-human hybrid. As you may have noticed, I’m not overly concerned with the rules.
Name one person you admire. Charles II. I was with his touring band of banished Royalists after his father was beheaded at Whitehall. He suffered great hardship, and yet was restored to the throne of England without an ounce of bloodshed.
Morgan will be appearing in concert at the Royal Albert in London, England on November 11th.
Linda Nightingale’s Obsession series stars Morgan D’Arcy, in all his facets. The books are Sinner’s Opera, Sinner’s Obsession, and Morgan D’Arcy: A Vampyre Rhapsody, a companion book and a walk through the centuries with a piano-playing James Dean!
Tagline: Vampire Morgan D’Arcy has everything except what he most desires…a woman he has loved since the day she was born…Isabeau.
Blurb:
Morgan D’Arcy is an English lord, a classical pianist, and a vampire. He has everything except what he desires most—Isabeau. As the Angel Gabriel he’s steered her life and career choice, preparing her to become Lady D’Arcy. Many forces oppose Morgan’s daring plan—not the least of which is Vampyre law.
Isabeau Gervase is a brilliant geneticist Though she no longer believes in angels, she sees a ticket to a Nobel Prize in Gabriel’s secrets—secrets that have led her to a startling conclusion. Gabriel isn’t human, and she fully intends to identify the species she named the Angel Genome. Morgan is ready to come back into Isabeau’s life, but this time as a man not an angel. Will he outsmart his enemies, protect his beloved and escape death himself? For the first time in eternity, the clock is ticking.
Excerpt:
A refugee from Les Miserables peered at me with the strangest, most beautiful eyes—gray with black flecks. Her hair, straight, thick and pale as mine, flowed over thin shoulders past her hips. She took a tentative step closer, and I saw that her legs were horribly twisted, a birth defect. Failure haunted me, and resentment burned in my heart. I could help end such needless suffering. With my DNA, Isabeau would save the unborn from this misery. I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes. If not for Vampyre law and my own mistakes, tonight Isabeau would be my wife and the mother of my child. Instead, she would go on without me—and I would…I didn’t know what I would do.
“That looks like blood on your coat.” The girl wiped her nose on her hand. “It’s dark. What’re you doing alone in the graveyard? Did somebody you love die?”
My throat closed, my heart cramping. “Not exactly.”
“You’re either dead or you’re not.” The ghost-like urchin, shivering in a thin, torn jacket, was a mere ten years old.
“That’s not exactly true either.” I kicked an acorn with my toe.
She inched closer, her eyes wary. “You talk funny. Where you from? Like music, kind of going up and down.”
“What are you doing here alone at night? Aren’t you afraid of ghosts?”
Her face was young but too wise. “Momma says the dead can’t hurt you. It’s the living you got to worry about.”
“Your mother is a wise woman.” I studied rain-jeweled trees, the rain-slick path.
The girl shrugged a shoulder. “If she was all that smart, she’d get rid of Tommy.”
I wished I had time to continue this conversation. “That’s why you ran away?”
“Yep. Sick of kids laughing at me. Tired of being hungry. I’m going to ask the sisters to take me in. I can work.” She tilted her face to the misty sky, raindrops sparkling on her lashes and her hair. “I always thought I’d be a great lady someday, you know?”
“A great lady?” My voice sounded as hollow as the stone angel weeping over the tomb.
She flung her arms wide. “I’d marry a prince or a rich duke.”
I tried to smile but failed. “Prince Charming isn’t likely to find you in a nunnery.”
This little girl was my chance to play the angel once more. Last night, I’d withdrawn ten thousand dollars from an account in the Grand Caymans as a safety net for my tightrope act. There was scant chance the authorities had thought to freeze or could even find my holdings and I had plastic by the number. I fished in the chest pocket of my coat. My wallet was still there, bulging with wet thousand dollar bills.
“Are you a bum?” She cocked her head, one eyebrow arched.
“Do I look like a bum?” I’d dreamed of changing the world. How the Mighty fall.
“Well, yeah.” She stressed the last word.
A bitter laugh burned my throat. “Hold on to your dreams. Dreams do come true.” My hand shook, and I almost dropped the wallet engraved with my initials and the St. Averil crest—worthless reminders of a life left behind.
“Come closer. I won’t harm you. I promise.” I folded the sodden currency and shoved it into her hand.
She gasped. “Is this real money?” Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, my, it is. A lot of money.” An accusing gaze captured mine. “Did you rob a bank?”
“The money is mine. Now it’s yours.” Thinking of a special little girl I’d taught to dream, I smiled wistfully. “I must warn you. Princes are in short supply.”
“You are an angel,” she whispered reverently. “Grandma said angels didn’t always look like angels when they appeared to you.”
A sharp pain lanced my heart. “I’m not an angel, child. Run along home before you catch a chill.”
And I used energy I couldn’t afford to expend to disappear and reappear behind a mausoleum ten feet away, still smelling of rotting flesh. Past new headstones, I fled, gliding around the shadowed turn. The path twisted left, the bricks chipped and broken. The old cemetery dated to the birth of the colony—a time I’d well enjoyed. Here, there were no faded silk flowers. The loved ones who’d tended these graves were moldering in other graves. I stopped at a raised tomb, wiped the inscription with my sleeve.
Samuel Rutledge, a soldier of the South.
“Samuel, old man, I shall be honored to accept your hospitality this bleak evening.”
Born in South Carolina, Linda has lived in England, Canada, Miami, Ft. Lauderdale, Atlanta and Houston. She’s seen a lot of this country from the windshield of a truck pulling a horse trailer, having bred, trained and showed Andalusian horses for many years.
Linda has won several writing awards, including the Georgia Romance Writers Magnolia Award and the SARA Merritt. She is the mother of two wonderful sons, one in England, one in Houston. She retired from M.D. Anderson Cancer Center as a legal assistant. She loves horses, sports cars, piano, theater and the symphony. She enjoys dressing up and hosting formal dinner parties.
Today, I’ve got a treat. A brand new DeerbourneInn novella has been released into the bookreading world, and I’ve got the author, Wild Rose Press sistah Samantha Gentry, here with me, talking about her addition to the series, REKINDLING AN OLD FLAME.
Samantha, take it away:
Thank you, Peg, for this opportunity to share my latest release with your readers.
I’m Samantha Gentry and I’d like to tell you about my new release from The Wild Rose Press. Rekindling An Old Flame is an adult romance novella, my offering for the Deerbourne Inn series. The Deerbourne Inn is a charming bed and breakfast in the town of Willow Springs, Vermont—population three thousand. It’s the focal point for the series. My novella tells a story of lost love, reunion, and an attempt to repair the mistakes of the past.
My story is set in the first week of October during the Willow Springs’ annual Fall Foliage Celebration, an arts and crafts event honoring the time of year when the trees covering the New England countryside turn brilliant shades of red, orange, and gold. Cameron Amory, world famous international best-selling author, lives in Willow Springs. Skylar Rogers is stranded in Willow Springs—a place she’s never been before, a place that wasn’t her destination—with car trouble. This chance encounter after fourteen years presents Cameron with the opportunity to try and undo his mistakes of the past and rekindle his relationship with his lost love from college.
Blurb:
When interior decorator Skylar Rogers’ car breaks down in the small town of Willow Springs, she’s unprepared for a reunion with the man who once stole her heart and ripped it to shreds. That doesn’t stop the erotic desires he ignites. She’ll only be in town a few days, though. What could it hurt to take a little tumble down memory lane?
World famous bestselling author Cameron Amory is shocked to discover his college lover in his hometown. He never stopped loving her and has always regretted leaving her behind. Now, he’ll do whatever it takes to win back her trust and her love. Has too much time gone by, or can he rekindle an old flame?
Excerpt:
He increased his embrace as he forced his erratic breathing under control. He smoothed her hair back from her damp face while placing tender kisses on her forehead and cheeks until he was finally able to formulate words. “Damn, it’s even better now than it was back then.” He raised his upper body, supporting his weight on his elbows. “I’ve missed you, Sky, missed you very much.” His words came out as a soft whisper. “I thought I’d never have another opportunity to include you as part of my life. We can’t let this slip away again.”
A wariness covered her face. “Slip away again?”
Her expression and tone told him more than he wanted to know, told him how inappropriate his words were, although unintentional, and clearly reminded him whose fault it had been. He was the one who had bolted. He had allowed his fear of making a commitment to overrule what he refused to openly acknowledge as his love for her. A love he now readily admitted had always been there. But how to convince her, how to overcome her voiced and unspoken but obvious concerns. He had to find some way of getting her to communicate more fully with him.
“Come home with me, Sky. Spend the night with me. In fact, check out of the Deerbourne Inn and stay with me.”
“As tempting as that is, I can’t do it. This has all been too much, Cam, too much too quickly. I need time to take it all in, to digest it. Time to figure out what’s really happening, something other than two people resurrecting a sexual relationship.”
“There’s a hell of a lot more going on here than that. Yes, the sex is great. It always was, and it’s even better now. But there’s more than that. You know it as well as I do.”
“I can’t go home with you, Cam. Certainly not tonight.”
It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it didn’t surprise him. He needed to back off, not push so hard. He had to come up with some way that it would work out, to present her with a viable solution, something she could consider in a logical light.
He needed to make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.
I’ve lived most of my life in Los Angeles and earned my living for twenty years by working in television production. I was always interested in writing and dabbled at it, but not seriously. I combined my interest in writing with my avocation of photography and began doing magazine articles featuring my photographs. After selling several articles, I discovered I enjoyed the writing process as much as the photography.
My friends told me I should make use of my television contacts and write scripts. I enrolled in a screen writing class at UCLA. By the close of class I knew screen writing was not for me. The other thing I knew was that I wanted to write novels rather than magazine articles.
***Thank you, Peg, for allowing me to share my latest release, Rekindling An Old Flame from the Deerbourne Inn series published by The Wild Rose Press, with your readers.
Peggy here: you are most welcome.
And don’t forget the other books in the Deerbourne Inn series, available now in ebook. (This list is in order of publication)
Last week I brought you a little sumthin’ from my upcoming WRP release of TODAY, TOMORROW, ALWAYS. This week, I have another new WRP release coming out SOON from a new series called PRIDE OF BROTHERS. The first book is Rick’s Story.
Rick Bannerman’s job is to protect. An elite bodyguard and P.I., he’s used to denying his emotions and ignoring his feelings in order to keep those in his care safe, at all costs. When lawyer Abigail Laine becomes the target of a vengeful client, Rick slips in to protection mode even though Abby refuses his help.
Four years ago Rick left Abby standing on a balcony alone, after walking away from a kiss that sent them both reeling. His refusal stung, and Abby’s sworn to forget it so she can protect her heart and move on with her life. But now she needs Rick’s professional help and her reluctance to accept it could just cost her her life.
Can these two stubborn and independent people put their troubled past behind them and learn to trust one another?
Excerpt:
Rick was seated on the couch, his laptop on the table in front of him, an open bag of potato chips next to it.
“Where did those come from?”
“They were in the bag from Kandy,” he told her never looking up from his typing. “Josh took pity on me and sneaked them in.”
She pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “Why would Josh need to take pity on you?”
If shamefaced had a proper name, it would be Rick, because that’s exactly the expression he wore on his face at her question. His shoulders curled forward a little, his neck almost disappearing into them. The tips of his ears turned ruddy, and he cleared his throat a few times before reaching for his own water bottle and taking a good chug.
He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Answer me,” she commanded when he put the bottle back down on the table.
She watched his neck work and couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger: the need to hear the answer to her question, or the desire to crawl into his lap and lick his neck—and every other part of him.
It was a testament to her analytical training that she opted for an answer.
“Maybe pity was the wrong word.”
Abby waited.
Rick scrubbed his hands through his hair and cupped the back of his neck. “Fine, but don’t get all pissy when I tell you, okay?”
For an answer, she cocked one of her eyebrows and dropped her chin.
“When we were over there, I happened to mention to Josh you don’t keep any junk food in the house. No cake, no chips, pretzels. Nothing to snack on.”
“Not true. I always have cut fruit in the fridge.”
The breath he blew between his lips told her what he thought of fruit as a snack. “Like I said, nothing to snack on. I kind of told him I was, you know, going through withdrawal, from the lack.”
She couldn’t help it: she laughed.
Rick straightened up in his seat, his eyes squinting at her. “You don’t have to laugh at me. You did ask.”
“How old are you?”
“What does my age have to do with anything?”
“You just said you were going through withdrawal because you haven’t had crappy snacks to munch on. Don’t—” She held a hand up to him to silence what he’d been about to say. “The stuff you like is crappy from a nutrition standpoint. The last time I heard someone complain like you was my nephew Declan when were all at the beach last month. He’s nine. Which is the age I’d expect a kid to be who’s made a statement like you just did.”
Rick shook his head. “I knew you were gonna get pissy.”
“I’m not being pissy because I eat food that’s actually good for me. You don’t live here, Rick. I do. You can fill your apartment to the ceiling with junk food and I won’t care, but this is my home, my space, and I don’t stock it full of bad food choices.”
“Why are you so hyper-vigilant and OCD about snacky stuff? It’s not gonna kill you to have a cupcake or some cheese puffs, you know.”
“Spoken like a man who can eat whatever he wants.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“It means you don’t need to worry about your weight. Ever. You’ve never struggled with an extra ounce of body fat in your life, Rick. I know that for fact. You have no idea what it’s like to count every calorie and watch every single thing that goes into your mouth because of the inevitability it’s going to wind up on your ass. I do. I wasn’t blessed with my grandmother’s metabolism like Kandy and most of my sisters. Ellie and I take after our dad’s side. We’re the only ones who do. One more thing to despise about him,” she added, pursing her lips. “I’ve had to deny myself food everyone else can eat with abandon since my teens. And it’s a struggle. A monumental one. I’m strong-willed, but sometimes willpower can only go so far, which is why I keep healthy foods around me so if I do snack, at least it’s on something I won’t obsess over about the calorie count.”
She took a long pull from her water bottle.
Rick’s gaze stayed on her while she drank. He didn’t seem embarrassed any more. In truth, she couldn’t tell what was behind that penetrating stare of his. She placed the bottle down on the counter next to her broken shoe.
“Come here,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Why?”
He wiggled his fingers. “Just, come here.” When she didn’t move he added, “Please.”
He took her hand when she got close and yanked her down onto his lap with her legs resting on the couch.
“For the record,” he said, winding one hand around her waist, the other across her thighs, “I love your ass. I love every part of your body. And whether you weighed fifty pounds or three fifty, you’d still be the sexiest woman I’ve ever known, Abigail.”
The words seeped into her soul. She wanted to believe them.
“And I’m sorry I dissed you to Josh. You’re right, I don’t live here, and I have no right to complain about anything. So, I’m sorry.”
Abby sat, quietly, staring up at him.
“What?” he asked when she tilted her head to one side.
“Contrition looks good on you.”
Intrigued? Stay tuned for more announcements on cover reveal, preorder links and release date!
And don’t forget, DEARLY BELOVED is still on sale until 8.23.19 Get your copy before book 2 comes out so you’ll be all caught up!
Winter may be rolling in, but that doesn’t mean your days and nights must be cold.
Before you get snowed in, grab yourself a copy of this limited-edition collection. With heroes and heroines of all kinds, you’ll be sure to find some that you just can’t help but fall in love with.
These romantic reads can be read as stand-alone stories. But, why would you want to do that? Read them all! Immerse yourself in this wintery ensemble from Romance Collections.
Peggy Jaeger, Author 