by Michele Hauf, author of THE HIGHWAYMAN

Hey all!  My latest, THE HIGHWAYMAN is in bookstores right now.  Don’t you love the cover?  It’s my first ‘guy only’ cover.  The art department really nailed this one.  He is exactly as I imagined Max Fitzroy, the hero, to look like.  (Although, they could have left his coat off, but heck, I can’t complain, at least we get to see some of that sexy chest.)

I think paranormal romance covers are some of the hottest, sexiest, most gorgeous covers on bookstore shelves right now.  They really focus on that irresistible connection between a hero and heroine, or the darkness that lives inside the tortured hero.  But do you ever pick up a cover and think to yourself “I’ve seen this before”?

Sure paranormal is hot and sexy, but there’s only so many times I can see a tattooed shoulder or backside on a cover before I say the same thing “I’ve seen this before”.  Don’t get me wrong, I love tattoos (got a couple myself).  But have tattoos become synonymous with the paranormal genre?  You see a tat, you know there will be demons or vamps or slayers inside.  And what about moons?  How often do you see a full moon on a cover lately?  A lot, trust me.  Again, another sign that this story will have vampires or werewolves inside.  Any deadly weapon held behind the back or down along the thigh (dressed in thigh-high leather boots) is also another dead giveaway.

But is that so wrong?  It’s not a bad thing, when you are going into the bookstore, to be able to recognize the genre you love to read.  And until they divide the romance section out into something like ‘historical’, ‘contemporary’, and ‘paranormal’, sometimes we have to rely on those cover clues to find what we like.

So what have I missed?  What are some other common cover clues that the dark, sexy and slightly-not-normal live inside?  Which cover cliches can you do without?  Which ones do you want to see more of?

And yep, the heroine of THE HIGHWAYMAN has a tattoo.  This one’s a little different than the common tribal designs, though.  As a familiar, my heroine has nine lives.  She doesn’t remember one life to the next, so she needs a permanent record of the most important things, like who she can trust, bank account numbers, and most important-who she can’t trust, namely, The Highwayman.  Here’s a picture of that tattoo.  It was supposed to be inserted at the end of the book, but got missed, so I thought it would be fun to show you what it looked like.

Michele

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by Anna Hackett, author of Savage Dragon

I confess I love old things.  I’m an ancient history buff.  I was the kid in the fourth grade who said I was going to be an archaeologist when I grew up.  I’ve marveled at Stonehenge, stood in the Colosseum, seen the Acropolis, visited the ruins of Troy and been inside the Pyramids (twice!)

Well, I didn’t become an archaeologist, I became an engineer (a mining engineer, so technically I still dig in the dirt), but I never lost my love for history.  When I started writing, it was no surprise I decided to write paranormal.  Taking myths, legends and places out of actual history and using them as a basis for a story was a dream come true.

I draw on my travels, my reading and research for endless ideas for my stories and the paranormal beings that inhabit them.  I often use facts, places and names that have basis in history, and curious readers can look up these facts and find the real myth behind the fiction.

When I decided to write a story about dragons, I didn’t know much about them except for the fire-breathing and the scales.  I was stumped as to how to make scales sexy!  Once I started researching, I found a wealth of information on dragons from all parts of the world.

In my current Nocturne Bites, SAVAGE DRAGON, the hero and heroine are both modern day knights of the Order of the Dragon.  I ripped the name right from the pages of history.  In 1408, Sigismund, King of Hungary founded the chivalric order to fight the enemies of Christianity.  One of the more interesting members of the Order was a man named Vlad Tepes, better known as Dracula.  I wondered what a modern day order of knights would be like, what they’d fight for, and SAVAGE DRAGON and the world of the Order of the Dragon was born.

I also came across legend after legend linking dragons to the four elements, but I felt this had been covered quite a lot in other stories.  Then as I was researching some Chinese myths, I stumbled across the Wu Xing — the five Chinese elements: earth, water, fire, metal and wood.  These became the basis for the magic of my dragons.

I love those “Ah-ha” moments, where something-a place, a person, a story, a curious fact, a cool action sequence in a movie-speaks to you.  You get that excited tingle, that sense of inspiration, you feel connected to something.  As a writer, when I get those moments I know I’m onto a potential story idea.

I got that feeling when I read about the real-life Order of the Dragon.  I got it when I saw a tattoo of a band of flames around a muscled bicep and the hero in my September Bites, WIND KISSED, FIRE BOUND was born.  I got it when I stood in the ruins of the Roman Forum (in a spot where Julius Caesar had stood) and set my October Bites, TAKEN BY THE SOUTH WIND in history-filled city of Rome.

So, how about you?  I’d love to hear about that person, place, story or thing that gives you that sense of inspiration.  It might be the spooky woods behind your house, an old photo album, the latest blockbuster movie you saw or the sexy guy at the coffee shop.  Share your inspirational moments and you’ll go in the draw for a $15 Amazon gift card!

Note: contest will close on Sunday, July 26 at midnight — so be sure to leave your comment by then for a chance to winner! We’ll announce the winner here on Monday, July 27. And remember, if you wish to comment without registering, you can use our generic account: username and password both “Anonymous“. Good luck! ~Amy

by Karen Whiddon, author of WILD WOLF

Writing. People (the non-writers anyway) seem to think a writer simply sits in front of the keyboard, places fingers on the keys, and dashes off a book in a matter of days or weeks.  How I wish it were that simple.  While I’ve heard of writers who claim the story simply “poured” from them, my process is not that easy.  Often I spend hours agonizing over a particular scene, and have been known to stop and try to find the perfect word in the thesaurus.  It’s tough, not only working out the plot details, but the character’s growth and all that.  Yet it seems like it should be easy.  Actually, I’ve heard writing compared to sweating blood on to the page.  Sometimes, that’s pretty accurate.  The Silhouette Nocturne currently on the shelves WILD WOLF, was a culmination of several years of dreams and fragmented images.  It’s a special story and I worked very hard writing it, but it was fun too.  Those are the best kind of books.

Losing weight. Sure, I lost 25 pounds once before (13 years ago), and it wasn’t easy for fun,  but come on.  I don’t remember it being THIS hard.  Last time I counted calories, kept a food log of everything I put in my mouth, and did cardio only (treadmill, two miles) every single day.  It took me from March until July, but I did it.  And I don’t remember suffering so much.  Seriously, I had one normal dinner without counting calories and gained two pounds.  I had to work twice as hard to even get back to the weight I had before the dinner and to start on the downward tract again

And keeping with the above - Movie stars and their bodies.  Sure, they all look perfect.  Yes, we suspect they diet all the time.  But until I hired a personal trainer and started going to the gym 4 days a week for an hour or more each time, I had no idea what they went through.  Those washboard abs and perfectly toned arms and legs don’t come easy folks.  Let me tell you.  Not only do you have to work like heck to even GET them toned, once you achieve that, you STILL have to work constantly to KEEP them that way.  I now have new found sympathy for all those stars who have to look good to appear in public.

Now, what’s yours? The thing that should be easy, but isn’t?  Come on, don’t be shy.

More about WILD WOLF:

Turning her back on humans because of her ability to shape-shift into a wolf, young and beautiful Raven doesn’t believe she needs anyone. Until the day a darkly handsome man appears near her remote cave…and she watches him turn into a wolf.

Simon Caldwell has been sent to assess the threat of a new feral wolf prowling the Rockies. But he’s wholly unprepared for his intense attraction to Raven. His investigation is about to take a deadly turn as he and Raven become the hunted. Now their very survival depends on Simon’s ability to win what this wild wolf holds most dear!

Wren and Sergei talk about BLOOD FROM STONE

1. Give me a one-line description of your book. The hook, if you will. What’s the “Oooh, cool!” about the book?

For the series as a whole: “A magic-using self-admitted kleptomaniac/professional and her really sexy and deeply frustrating partner, an art dealer with a mysterious past and a slight sex/pain kink he really needs to deal with already, trying to balance work, love, and mayhem in a modern-day Manhattan where electricity = magic.”

For BLOOD FROM STONE specifically?

“Can I answer this one?”
“No”
“Why not?
“Because they asked me. You’re Male Lead — I’m the Heroine.”
“You’re going to gloss all over the stuff you didn’t like.”
“They asked for a hook, not a book report.”
“Ahhh. So what is the hook, Valere? Enlighten us.”
*glares* “After saving the world - okay, New York City - from the force of self-righteous do-evilers, we don’t get the downtime we so desperately deserve, but instead have to turn around and save my esteemed demon sidekick P.B. from the fate he’s been running from for the past *coughmany* years. Which will make a lot of P.B. junkies happy, because you get backstory and trauma, and lots of demon screen-time. I swear he has more fans than we do.”
“It’s the cosplay thing.”
“The what? No, don’t explain. I already know I don’t want to know.”

2. What’s the worst thing about your situation in the book? (Please describe the situation. In great detail.)

“Oh god, where to start? I’m dealing with flashback trauma, people who’re supposed to be dead coming back to give me shit, an old friend being threatened with slavery, and my apartment’s about to go co-op. And the job we’re on? It’s not even a paying gig. Talk about insult to injury.”
“You can’t pick one?”
“Not getting paid. Okay, no, all right, no. The worst thing about this I that if I screw up, P.B.’s screwed. You know what that’s like, having your best friend’s fate depending on you doing the impossible, and doing it perfectly? But hey, no pressure…”

3. What’s the best thing about your situation? (Again, details.)

“Ah… Sergei and I are finally having sex again. Seriously. I can handle most of the crap life throws at me, but not being able to touch him cause I was afraid he’d land back in the hospital? Unfun and really frustrating. I don’t handle frustration well.”
“There’s an understatement. But you honestly think that us having sex again is better than…”
*glares*
“Oh, right. Those are all spoilers, aren’t they? Never mind. Sex it is. Not that I’m insulted that you think…”
“Hey. Just because the lady wanted details doesn’t mean you have to give them to her.”
“Wrenlet, are you blushing?”
“No. Shut up.”

For the rest of the interview — including questions on their outfits, romantic entanglements (of all varieties ), and what they really think about Laura Anne — head on over to Laura Anne Gilman’s LiveJournal.

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From the Mists of Wolf Creek by Rebecca Brandewyne

A Two-Lane Highway, The Present

There was a storm coming on.

Hallie Muldoon could see it ahead in the distance, where leaden thunderclouds seethed and roiled on the horizon, blotting out the westering sun. At the sight, the strange, nebulous sense of anxiety and urgency she had felt ever since learning of her grandmother’s unexpected death last month heightened within her, and she pressed her foot even harder against the accelerator of the car she drove.

In response, the sporty red Mini Cooper S shot down the narrow two-lane highway that was a patchwork of macadam bounded on either side by long, sweeping green verges abloom with a profusion of wildflowers, beyond which lay checkerboard fields of ripening grain.

Under other circumstances, it would have been a picturesque scene. But at the moment, beneath the lowering sky, it was somehow reminiscent of Van Gogh’s painting Starry Night, and Hallie suffered the disturbing sensation that she was journeying into the distorted realm of an unquiet mind instead of toward the small town of Wolf Creek, her childhood home.

She had not been there since her mother, Rowan Muldoon, had passed away and Gram had sent her back East to live with her two great-aunts, Gram’s spinster sisters, Agatha and Edith. That had been many years ago now, and the beginning of an entirely new life for Hallie, the old one-the one she would have lived had her mother survived-having died along with the only parent she had ever known.

Hallie thought that in some respects, nothing had gone right in her life since that moment.

In sharp contrast to Meadowsweet, the quiet, relatively isolated farm where Gram had lived, Great-Aunts Agatha and Edith had resided in a crowded, noisy big city, in a dark old gloomy town house wherein the sunshine, freedom and laughter to which the then seven-year-old Hallie had been accustomed had been painfully taboo. In the great-aunts’ town house, the long heavy curtains were always drawn against the sun that would otherwise have faded the furniture and carpets, and little girls were to obey the rules, the primary of which had been to be seen and not heard. Natural childhood curiosity and chatter had brought severe frowns and censure.

As a result, back East, Hallie had quickly learned to keep her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself, to slip like a wraith through the shadowy halls of the town house, and to apply herself diligently to her studies at the private school in which the great-aunts had enrolled her, rather than wasting her time with such frivolous pursuits as idle daydreaming and rowdy playing.

In adulthood and retrospect, Hallie had realized the great-aunts had no doubt loved her dearly and meant well. It was just that having no experience with children of their own, they had reared her in the same fashion that their austere, Bible-thumping father, the Reverend Bernard Dew-hurst, had reared them, knowing no other way. In the end, they had done their best for her, and Hallie could not find it in her heart to blame them for proving unable to change their own lifelong beliefs and behavior, and to move ahead with the times.

But, oh, how different things would have been if only her grandmother had never sent her away from Wolf Creek and Meadowsweet farm! A middle daughter, Gram had been the black sheep of the five Dewhurst sisters, estranged from her family because in her youth she had brazenly eloped with Jotham Taylor, Great-Aunt Agatha’s fiancé.

The highly reserved, straitlaced Dewhursts had never forgiven Gram for that, her father remorselessly declaring her dead to them for her unspeakable sin, striking her name from the family Bible and cutting her off without a single penny.

Eventually Gram and her dashing, wayward husband had moved to faraway Wolf Creek and bought the small farm, Meadowsweet, where Hallie had been born and to which she was now returning.

She wondered how much both the town and the farm had changed in the intervening years since she had been gone. In her own mind, of course, both had stood still, frozen in time, just the same as when she had last seen them during her childhood. Still, she knew that in reality, that would not be the case, that both would no longer be as she remembered them.

Perhaps Wolf Creek had grown in size and population, become more than just a tiny dot on a road map, of little or no interest to passersby. Unlike some small towns, it had no claim to fame to attract tourists, to entice them off the beaten path to the single grassy square bounded on its four sides by the only main streets in Wolf Creek. In another time and place, the square would have been referred to as the village green. But Hallie recalled it only as the park where, on market days, she had romped with the other children, in the shadow of the town hall and the courthouse.

Not for the first time, it occurred to her how strange it was that her memories of Wolf Creek were so much clearer than those of Meadowsweet, her birthplace and the farm that had been her childhood home until her mother had died and Gram had sent her away.

Hallie remembered that the farmhouse itself dated from the 1800s and boasted Victorian architecture, and she had a vague impression of cupolas and towers rising from a large house whose lightning rods were silhouetted like needles against a boundless azure sky. But try as she might, she did not recall more than that, not even the color of the house’s traditional wood scallops, siding and ornate trim, although she thought there had been at least three shades of paint.

More easily brought to mind was the sweet expanse of meadow whence the farm had taken its name. It had boasted a gay riot of grasses, toadstools and wildflowers, as well as butterflies, dra-gonflies and honeybees, the latter of which her grandmother had raised on the farm. All year long, when the weather had permitted, Hallie had played in the meadow, creating a vivid, imaginary world there, in which the insects were faeries and the toadstools and blossoms, their homes.

Even now, if she closed her eyes and tried very hard, she could still smell the sweet scent of the meadow and feel the warmth of the bright sunshine that had streamed to the earth there.

Reminiscing about that meadow had been her one salvation in those early days back East. It had been the place to which she had escaped in her mind when the unexpected loss of her mother, the sudden uprooting from her home and Gram, and the darkness and dreariness of the town house belonging to Great-Aunts Agatha and Edith had proved far too depressing and overwhelming for her, a lonely, baffled child.

But now, as all these memories of the meadow besieged her, Hallie could not suppress a wry smile. She did not think her great-aunts had ever believed in faeries. But Gram and Hallie’s mother had believed, and they had passed that belief on to her.

They had talked to the honeybees, too. She wondered if those precious insects were still raised at Meadowsweet, their white wooden hives lined up neatly in a row behind the farmhouse. She hoped so.

Despite all the years that had passed since she had left Wolf Creek, there was still so much Hal-lie did not know, did not understand. Why, for instance, had Gram ever sent her away to begin with? Other children lost their parents, grieved and tried to go on with their lives afterward. They were not packed off to long-estranged relatives and never permitted to come back home. Still, that was exactly what Gram had done to her.

Had Hallie not been so certain of her grandmother’s deep and abiding love for her, she would have thought that after her mother’s death, Gram had not wanted to be bothered with her, a seven-year-old child. But, no, that was not the reason. Hallie felt sure of that. There was something else, something her grandmother had never told her, always keeping her at arm’s length ever after, when the two of them had previously been so close.

Even now, when so much else was misty in her mind, Hallie could remember trotting in Gram’s wake, helping to feed the chickens and to care for the honeybees, to harvest fruit from the orchard and vegetables from the garden and to hang the clean wash out on the clothesline to dry. Yes, there had been a time when she could have been described as her grandmother’s little shadow.

But then her mother had died, and everything had changed.

Maybe because she resembled her dead mother so much, she had been a painful reminder to her grandmother of their mutual loss. Perhaps that was why it had appeared Gram could no longer bear the sight of her and so had packed her off to the care of Great-Aunts Agatha and Edith. If that were indeed the case, Gram’s action would at least be understandable, if not particularly kind. Still, however plausible, this rationale did not seem at all in keeping with what Hallie recalled of her grandmother’s joyous, generous nature. Nor did it explain why, in the end, Gram had willed her the farm.

But what other reason could there have been?

Hallie did not know, but one of the main reasons she was now returning to Wolf Creek and Meadowsweet was to try to find out. Her grandmother was dead and buried now, so could no longer keep her away, and surely, by leaving her the farm, Gram had intended that she come home at long last, anyway.

Because she was so lost in her thoughts, it was only at the last moment that from the corner of her eye, Hallie glimpsed the streak of dark fur that suddenly shot across the highway unwinding endlessly before her. Abruptly jolted from her reverie, she instinctively slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting the animal. In response, her small red vehicle screeched along the road, tires burning rubber and laying skid marks, before coming to such a bone-jarring stop that she felt certain she would have a bruise later from the seat belt she wore.

Ahead of her, in the middle of the highway, stood the largest wolf Hallie had ever seen.

As a child, she had often spied the animals, which had given Wolf Creek its name. But this one was unquestionably uncommon-and not only in size. For it was almost wholly black in color, with only a little silver-gray around its face, and as it stared hard at her, she saw that in a rare but recognized twist of genetics, it had retained the gleaming blue eyes with which all wolf cubs were born, but that normally turned golden in adulthood. A thin but visible jagged scar ran downward across its left cheek, as though the animal had survived some long-ago, hand-to-paw battle with a hunter and, for its defiance, been knifed during the desperate struggle.

Hallie felt strangely mesmerized by the beast’s gaze, unable to tear her eyes away. Oddly, despite its obvious size and strength, the wolf did not initially appear menacing to her. But that was before, without warning, gathering its powerful muscles, it lunged toward her, abruptly leaping onto the hood of the car and pressing its muzzle against the windshield to peer in at her.

The unexpected weight and action of the animal jolted the vehicle violently, causing it to rock briefly and Hallie first to scream and then to catch her breath in her throat as she wondered if the beast were capable of somehow shattering the safety glass in order to attack her. Ludicrously, in some dim corner of her mind, she also hoped the wolf’s hard, sharp toenails had not scratched the car.

by Kate Donovan, author of The Untamed Beast

When Megan — the heroine of my new Nocturne Bites — sees her college crush Rick again for the first time in years, she thinks it’s the luckiest night of her life. He strides into the bar looking hotter than ever - more powerful, more virile, exuding animal magnetism. He was always attractive, but this is something else. Then he fixates on her like she’s the only female in the room — a far cry from the old days when he barely noticed her.

Megan, Megan, Megan… for a smart girl, she never bothers to ask herself how these changes — turning Rick into a sex god who only has eyes for her — are possible.

And Rick is almost as bad! Over the last few weeks, his body has gone from fit to rippling; his reflexes are off the charts; and women are falling all over him. By his own admission, he at first thought it was just good luck plus good genes — but really? In just weeks?

Come on, characters! Don’t you know that impossibly good luck like this always comes with a price tag? Apparently not, because Rick doesn’t start to see the truth until his brown eyes turn coal black, his friends stop associating with him, and his even temper turns into barely-suppressed rage.

I guess it’s a good thing Rick and Megan are such positive thinkers because The Untamed Beast puts them both through hell — almost literally! If they were pessimists, I’m not sure they’d survive it.

Meanwhile, what about you? How much good luck would it take before you started to worry a little? Suppose you found a winning lottery ticket worth millions? Most of us would embrace it with gusto, right?

What if, on top the lottery ticket, you inherited a charming old castle from a distant relative you’d never heard of? Worried yet? Cat comes back after a three-year absence…. Years of dieting suddenly kick in…. Jensen Ackles asks you to friend him on your social network site….

Would questions start nagging at you? Or, like Megan and Rick, would it have to be something bad before the old adage started ringing in your ears:  If something seems too good to be true….

Rick Diaz came to the hotel bar with two goals: to escape the tortured reality of his new existence and to find a woman. Over the last nine weeks both his body and personality have changed–he is stronger, more aggressive, and has an animal magnetism no woman could resist. But he’s also afraid that once his transformation is complete, he can never have a real relationship again–giving him one more night to enjoy the pleasure of a woman’s touch.

Megan O’Neill turns out to be that woman. Rick used to star in her finest fantasies while they attended college together, though nothing could compare to the fierce passion she experiences during her night with Rick. But when Rick leaves the next morning without saying goodbye, Megan thinks she’ll never set eyes on him again…

Until Rick returns to tell her that he is a Guardian, destined to save the world from evil–and that Megan is the only woman who can help him…

Doug Knipe [aka SciFiGuy]

Doug, if Kresley & Co. don’t get in touch with you directly first, you can email Brooke at manager @ kresleycole. com about how to collect your prize. Congratulations!

Pssst, don’t be too sad if you didn’t win! You still have a chance to win a copy of Cry Mercy from Toni Andrews…

~Amy

by Toni Andrews, author of Cry Mercy

I don’t do creatures.

Don’t get me wrong, I loves me some vampires.  Ditto sexy werewolves (or were-creatures of your choice), demons, shape-shifters, demi-gods and whatever other mythical being you can imbue with a set of rippling abs and a pair of soulful eyes.

I just can’t write them.

I think it’s because, as much as I enjoy reading about all things supernatural, I don’t actually believe that I’m going to run into any of these various critters the next time I decide to take a solo trip through a dark alley or a stroll through the forest at midnight. When I’m awakened in the night by an unexplained thump, I don’t automatically think “werewolf.”  Outside of the confines of a book page or a movie screen, creatures don’t scare me.

But the idea that the innocuous-looking soccer mom across the room might secretly be reading my mind I can totally buy.  And, considering some of the weirdness that crosses my thoughts, that scares the crap out of me.

Mercy Hollings, the protagonist in my series, isn’t a creature.  She may or may not be 100% human but, as she says in book 1, Beg for Mercy, “the X-Rays and blood tests are normal.”  Sometime just before puberty, Mercy developed the ability to compel people to obey her.  This would have been much cooler if she’d known it was happening or that she could control it.

Think about it-do you have adolescent children?  The last time one of them had a temper tantrum, what did he or she suggest that you do?  Something as benign as “Leave me alone” could lead to dire circumstances if it was uttered on a busy city street.  I often hear the next door neighbors’ kids fighting, and the girl has been known to recommend that her brother perform some anatomically impossible acts.

See, that scares me.

Mercy turns 30 in Cry Mercy, the third book in the series and a June release from Mira.  She may be able to control her ability better now than she did at twelve, but it still gets away from her at times, especially when she loses her temper. Which she frequently does.  Or when she drinks. Which she frequently does.

She’s also becoming increasingly telepathic which anyone else (including her sidekick, Sukey) would think is terrific. Mercy, however, sees this new ability in a different light.  If she’s already having trouble controlling what she says, what’s it going to be like now that she has to control what she thinks?

Then there’s the ethical dilemma.  Just because you can read someone’s thoughts, should you?  It’s like opening up someone’s email or reading their diary-you know you shouldn’t, but it’s hard to resist.  And as for compelling others to obey, what’s to stop you from suggesting the bank teller stick a couple extra hundred dollar bills in your cash envelope? And, once you start down that road, where does it end?

Scary.

Contrary to what the members of a certain mind-control group believe, I do not have Mercy’s power of persuasion. (Seriously, there’s this mind control organization, some members of which have read the Mercy series and believe it’s thinly veiled autobiography.  They also think Chris Angel is not a magician. I kid you not.) I’m not telepathic and I don’t see dead people.

Ooooh, now that’s scary: seeing dead people.  Like telepathy, or Mercy’s press, I can buy into the idea that 1) ghosts exist and 2) some people can see them.  That thump in the night that’s not a werewolf?  It might be Grandma Andrews, who is said to haunt the cottage where I live. I’ve not actually met her.  I think the cat’s seen her, though.

Hmmmm. Perhaps in an upcoming installment, someone in Mercy’s world will see some dead people.  Also, I’m planning to introduce a new character in book four who’s telekinetic.  And totally hot, of course.

So, tell me, what scares you?  Leave a comment, and you might win a copy of Cry Mercy.

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For more information about Toni and her books, check out these links:

Toni’s web site: http://toniandrews.com/

Where to send your Self Addressed Stamped Envelope to get a signed book plate for your copy: http://toniandrews.com/CryMercyTour.htm

Toni’s Blog: http://tinyurl.com/ToniBlog

Toni’s TV show: http://toniandrews.com/SoManyBooks.htm

Cry Mercy Trailer: http://tinyurl.com/75vl4s

Book Rx, Toni’s “Book Doctor” service: http://toniandrews.com/BookRx.htm

by Linda O. Johnston, author of Back to Life, Alpha Wolf and Claws of the Lynx

My newest Silhouette Nocturne, BACK TO LIFE, is now on bookstore shelves!  I really enjoyed writing it, and it’s a real thrill to see it there, available for others to read. And what a great cover!

In BACK TO LIFE, the heroine, Skye Rydell, isn’t an ordinary K-9 cop.   She has Valkyrie powers over life and death–and must make a quick decision whether to save SWAT officer Trevor Owens when he is mortally wounded.  When she does, she senses something he has yet to accomplish… as well as an unanticipated connection between them.

In BACK TO LIFE, I made up my own interpretation of Valkyrie powers.  One thing I learned while researching Valkyries is that the actual legends are varied.  In some Nordic myths, Valkyries were considered corpse goddesses, represented by ugly, carrion-eating ravens.  In others, Valkyries were depicted as gorgeous, virginal women who attended dead warriors as they existed in Valhalla.  Or, they were beautiful battle maidens who rode to earth on heavenly steeds to pick over battlefields for the slain warriors who would spend eternity in Valhalla.  In some legends, they did both.  Sometimes they were, instead, prophetesses who predicted the outcomes of battles.  Their numbers varied, and so did the identity of the goddesses who acted as their leaders.  In each case, though, they were involved with the dead or dying.

That’s part of the fun of writing paranormal romance.  An author can make up her own versions of legends, and make them work for the story she creates.  Reality isn’t necessarily a factor, since most people don’t believe those kinds of paranormal beings exist anyway.  But consistency, and making their stories work enough to seem feasible and somewhat realistic–that’s what counts.

There are characteristics inherent in certain legends–werewolves, vampires, etc.–that people tend to think define them.  But that’s not always so.  Vampires may need to drink blood to survive, but not all of them, in the stories of today, attack people and suck blood from their necks.  Werewolves generally change under a full moon, but in today’s stories they may have more control over when it happens, and how.

In BACK TO LIFE, Skye inherited her Valkyrie powers over life and death from a long line of female ancestors and has friends with similar backgrounds who share her powers.  As a K-9 cop, she comes upon a lot of crime scenes because of her job, and in many people are dying or close to death.  She has a decision to make about whether to save their lives, if they are not too close to being gone for her to assist.  For those already past help, she can decide whether to accompany them over the rainbow bridge to a post-life existence worthy of heroes, or not.

When she finds sexy SWAT officer Trevor Owens very close to death, she knows exactly what she must do…

I hope you enjoy BACK TO LIFE, and my modern interpretation of Valkyrie powers!

Linda O. Johnston

www.LindaOJohnston.com

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Thanks for having me over–very happy to be here! Today, I hope to answer a question I’m often asked: What do you plan for the rest of the IAD series? I’ve listed a few of the highlights below. . . .

What you’ll see more of:

1. IAD installments–lots of ‘em. After Deep Kiss of Winter, a duology with the fantastically talented and winsome Gena Showalter, I’ll have at least four more books in the series!

2. Valkyries. In Deep Kiss of Winter, delicate Valkyrie Daniela the Ice Maiden is wooed by vampire Murdoch Wroth, a former Casanova, legendary for having all the right moves in and out of bed–except with Danii. When they’re together, he’s prone to tripping, unintended insults, and an embarrassing loss of, er, staying power.

Stealing much more screen time will be Regin the Radiant–who likes her men young, dumb, and hung. Find out why she behaves as she does, and if she and her reincarnating berserker, Aidan the Fierce, will finally get it right this time. Aidan, by the way, is exceptionally intelligent, untold centuries old, and only meets one of Regin’s requirements from above.

And of course we we’ll see more Nucking Futs Nïx. Apparently, readers enjoy her antics. Coincidentally, I *adore* writing them. See, readers? This is why we’re so right for each other. Don’t fight it, my love(s).

3. More overlapping timelines. I swear with each book that it’ll be the last time I pull this stunt, because–and here’s the thing–getting those timelines right is [expletive deleted] hard. And just to add stress to this foolish endeavor? The overlapping books must still be stand alone stories.

Weaving timelines leads to Red Bull abuse, premature aging, and husbands dodging thrown objects. [Sorry, Swede! Upside? You're getting really spry!]

Ah, but once I see the timelines of multiple books dovetailing. . . ? Sigh. That feeling’s a jot addictive. Regrettably, I can see me going down that dark, treacherous path again. Don’t make me go alone. Buy my books. Hold me.

4. More hot sexxors, and getting hotter. For years, I’ve been threatening to take the gloves off when writing love scenes. And I think I’ve finally browbeaten my editor into letting me go *crazy.* I’ve broken her. Ha-ha, just kidding, L, nobody’s broken. (I’ve totally broken her!)

5. Witches galore. Brazen Carrow the Incarcerated brings all her swagger and delinquency to center stage, while turning her poor hero’s life inside out. Who is her hero? you ask. Exactly who he shouldn’t be, I answer coyly.

6. More luxury goods of exorbitant costs. Life is long for immortals; luxury is nice crucial to survival. Plus, it’s fun to fictionally destroy. I could write about demons totaling two-million-dollar cars and Lykae biting off thousand-dollar panties all–day–long.

7. Segue to Lykae. Werewolf Garreth MacRieve’s story, Pleasure of a Dark Prince, comes out next February. We’ll see him battle to win the heart of mysterious Lucia the Huntress–and also how he’ll react when she drops a bombshell of an obstacle between them….

So, I hope you enjoy where the series is going! If you’re new to the IAD, and would like to see where it’s been, here’s the backlist:

1.   “The Warlord Wants Forever” in PLAYING EASY TO GET Feb 2006

2.    A HUNGER LIKE NO OTHER April 2006

3.    NO REST FOR THE WICKED Halloween 2006

4.    WICKED DEEDS ON A WINTER’S NIGHT Halloween 2007

5.    DARK NEEDS AT NIGHT’S EDGE May 2008

6.    DARK DESIRES AFTER DUSK June 2008

7.    KISS OF A DEMON KING February 2009

8.    “Untouchable” in DEEP KISS OF WINTER (a duology with Gena Showalter) November 2009

9.    PLEASURE OF A DARK PRINCE February 2010

For those seasoned Loreans, thank you for all your support and readership!

www.kresleycole.com

www.twitter.com/kresleycole

Score an ARC of Kresley’s upcoming story from Deep Kiss of Winter! One winner will be randomly drawn from the comments below. The contest ends on June 16th and the winner will be announced the next day. (The ARC will be mailed on 7-20-09)

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