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romance reading magazine Executive Editor/Editor-in-Chief - Laurence O’Bryan Associate Editor - Tanja Slijepčević Graphic Designer - Mirna Gilman Ranogajec
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Table of contents 04
Editor’s Letter
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My favourite romance novels by Ruth Gowan
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What I learned from years of writing Romance for Harlequin, Silhouette, and Dell. It’s all about conflict Baby By Louise Titchener Hazelet’s Journal Riveting Alaska Gold Rush Saga by J. H. Clark What if? by Dee L. Carter Writing Leading Ladies by Kirsten Fullmer The Stalker by Jeff Shear Blood Instincts by marie lavender We’re All Thieves: A Steamy Pirate Romance by Dyrion Knight
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The Siren’s Call by Karen Michelle Nutt
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A Short Story About Love by Frank Daley
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Editor’s letter You are very welcome to our Romance Reading magazine ‘18! It this issue, we wanted to explore what it means to write a romance, and how to avoid cliches that many authors have a hard time avoiding. We start with light piece - Ruth Gowan, irish romance author, gives her list of favorite romances and what makes them stand out from the crowd. Louise Titchener, author with many different romance novels under her belt, talks about the craft and what she learned over the years. Dee L. Carter, historical romance author with a humorous twist, explores what happens when you start following the road less travelled.
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Kirsten Fullmer reflects on writing lead ladies and what to keep in mind when creating the main character. What if the romance story takes a darker turn, and the romantic hero turns out to be a villain? Jeff Shear explores this possibility in his story The Stalker. Marie Lavander touches on a similar subject with a more paranormal turn. This and much more in our new romance magazine! It should be a treat for romance lovers. And if you have any ideas for articles or things you would like to see covered in our magazines, let me know. Laurence O’Bryan Editor in Chief Romance Reading Magazine
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Twin Romance when brothers find true love…By L A Remenicky Book 1: Until AJ Monroe left Indiana after college he had always lived in his identical twin brother’s shadow. He had made a life for himself in Denver, Colorado, away from Jessie, away from Indiana. But when AJ feared for his brother’s safety, he left everything behind to step back into the shadow he thought he had outgrown. Finding his brother was AJ’s only concern...until he met Jessie’s girl. Book 2: After serving in the Marine Corps, Jessie Monroe has finally found a life beyond war. He’s focused on being an EMT and helping his best friend rescue dogs, until he happens upon a curvy blonde stranded with a flat tire and no jack.
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Amish Acres: The Celery Patch by Samantha Bayarr Someone has grown an oversized patch of celery in Naomi’s family field and now she’s being accused of trying to “catch” a husband.Will rumors spread by a jealous friend damage her reputation and threaten her chances of marrying the man she loves?
MacGregor’s Daughter by Gwyn Brodie With her castle attacked and her parents murdered, Ceana escapes and finds safety in the circle of Alex’s strong arms. She falls in love with the Highland laird who rescued her, but can she trust him with her secret? Captivated by the dark-haired lass, Alex can think of little else. But what is it she’s keeping from him?
The Gamekeeper’s Wife by Clare Flynn A gripping story of love, duty, sacrifice and determination in the aftermath of the First World War. Martha Walters is the impoverished widow of an abusive man. Christopher Shipley is the reluctant heir to a substantial family fortune. They were never meant to fall in love, but sometimes the wrong person is the right one, until a terrible secret is revealed, which could force them apart.
Everybody Calls My Father, Father by Tim ‘Dr Hope’ Anders Son of Catholic priest tells all! This Romance novel is based on the true life love story of the author’s parents. The character of a tenacious young woman, Bouvette Sherwood, who is a successful New York Broadway producer and actress, drives the plot. In the mid 1940s Bouvette meets and falls in love with a charming alcoholic, Hughie Hewitt. He has a secret though, which he keeps from her during their intense courtship-he is a Catholic priest. Their love story unfolds into a kaleidoscope of intrigue, suspense, betrayal, and romance. 7
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Single and Looking, Daisy by Belinda Austin A hilarious tale of a 39-year-old screw-up, her search for love, and her crazy cat, who begins talking after her sisters pray over her. All her blind dates, men referred by her meddling sisters, are named after liquor. Even with her cat’s dating advice, Daisy has been looking for love in all the wrong places. Will Daisy ever find Prince Charming?
Call On Me by Angela Verdenius Ali’s dated some real losers in her search for a man who will love her for herself, plus-size and all. Ty ‘Ghost’ Sinclair has ridden to her rescue ever since school. But after one unexpectedly hot encounter between the two best friends, can Ghost convince Ali to give their relationship a go, or will her fear of change ruin everything?
ANGELS & ALIENS from Sam Jacobey Charlie & Clarisse take on a paranormal nightmare. Can they stop Karma from destroying the world? Read in Order – Ebook, PB, AUDIO & FREE on KU No one EVER had a summer romance like this. When Charlie visited another plane parallel to our own, he discovered that Summer Angels and Dark Angels battle over the fate of man. Faced with choices no one should ever have to make, his adventure has been fraught with twists and turns, with life and death hanging in the balance. His guardian, Clarisse, is the half that makes him whole, but sinister forces conspire to do more than simply keep them apart. 9
Riva Williams doesn’t know it but she needs to save all mankind. The daughter of a drug-addicted mother, Riva seems to be a typically morose, young adult and fears she’s going insane. Available on Amazon!
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MY FAVOURITE ROMANCE NOVELS BY RUTH GOWAN I read a lot of Romance novels mainly to keep myself on track and aware of what is current. Some I like and some I plow thorough as it were, but it is necessary to research what is that our customers are actually purchasing and reading. I seldom don’t finish a book unless it is truly awful. On the other hand, I find some really interesting and great reads books like The Tuscan Child by Rys Bowen this is a beautiful story starting in 1944 when a pilot is parachuted from his stricken plane to thirty years later his estranged daughter dealing with her own emotional trauma, finds an unopened letter to Sofia. Joanne embarks on her own emotional Journey to Tuscany. Devil’s Lake by Paul Arron Lazar: really more my kind of book with twists and devious turns. After two years of brutal captivity, Portia escapes and returns to her family farm - only to find her parents gone to New York for treatment for her mother’s cancer. Boone a friend and neighbour is running the farm, he tries to help the broken young woman heal together with her family. But one thing threatens her fragile hope of recovery: The man who took her is waiting to make his next deadly move. N.B this book contains explicit sexual content - adults only! Then there are the light novels that you just would like to read as an easy snuggle down in the duvet or bake on the beach type of read like Alicia Eve’s The Billionaires Marriage Game. This is a familiar popular theme in chic lit. A fun light romp: Kat happens to dance with a handsome billionaire at an engagement party, is her luck is changing. He’s clever, charming. And he needs a wife as soon as possible if he wants to inherit the family business. A friendly competition the winner will receive a marriage proposal, a diamond ring. But meddling in matters of the heart can be dangerous, especially when the heart wants what it can’t have. 11
Then there are the modern Irish Female Authors writing romance most of these leave me cold then there are the exceptions. The different and wonderful novels by Jean Grainger pick any of these up and you will be enthralled. Her latest: What Once Was True - An Irish WW2 Story. From the leafy grounds of an Irish stately home to the bombed-out streets of London in the Blitz, allow yourself to be swept away once more in this story. As war looms, two families find themselves drawn into the conflict and begin questioning everything that once was true. In a time when social structure was paramount. Jean’s descriptive passages, her dialogue rings so true and real. She is a gifted storyteller. But of Jean’s books my personal favourite is Shadow of a Century: An Irish Love Story: You can almost feel yourself back during the tumultuous time. The class structure, the arrogance the self-sacrifice during the Easter rising is brought to life and leaves you with strong emotions. A heart-warming story with a feeling of the real Ireland. I am really looking forward to this box set which is due out in January The Darkest Hour this Anthology, I suspect will be a heart rendering tear yourself away from the stories reluctantly type of read. The theme of the anthology is resistance and all ten of the stories pertain in some way to how people resisted the Axis powers during WW2. Jean’s has written a story called Catriona’s War. It’s about an Irish journalist who goes missing in France in 1940 and his daughter who goes to look for him. An unknown number of chilli’s as yet… p.s.
denote the amount of heat in the books. mine are
As new Irish author to the scene Ruth Gowan wants to write a contemporary chic novel with a twist. Her aim is to add a little suspense and mystery to her romantic stories. One of a very few women to enter the sport of car Rallying, Ruth drove competitively before she married, enjoying success at international level. These experiences form the background of her novels. Which takes you back in time but not too far.
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Heart of a SEAL by Dixie Lee Brown Six months as a POW taught Navy SEAL Luke Harding things he never wanted to learn about life and death. Only tender memories of Sally helped get him through the torturous days and nights. Now, home at last, he’s about to plunge into a new kind of war, fighting a killer with a personal vendetta…for the future they may not live to see.
Blood of Our Fathers by Sonny Girard Three romances authentically set in the world of New York’s organized crime by a former mobster. Jailed for something he did not do, Mickey Boy Messina, an associate of the Calabra crime family in New York City, is paroled after six years and must put his life back together. He is caught between a parole officer who wants to catch him consorting with known members of organized crime so that he can return Messina to prison, and Laurel, with whom he falls deeply in love only to find that she hates his way of life.
Saber’s Vida by L. Ann Marie Jump into the world of adventure and LOL situations. The Providence FBI Ops Field Office is waiting for you. When Commander Saber is put in his place by one woman, another finds his charm and panty-dropping smile worth the risk. Assistant DA, Cassidy knows she’s worth more than a Delta Groupie title and makes Saber work for it.
MC: Boxed Set 1-4 by L. Ann Marie Not your typical MC. This is life in the Badass Brotherhood. 21 book series, all start with Knight. Every book deals with a different subject, domestic abuse, gang wars, human trafficking, disabilities etc. Every book has a strong woman showing how she got to be with her alpha. These are my stories.
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WHAT I LEARNED FROM YEARS OF WRITING ROMANCE FOR HARLEQUIN, SILHOUETTE, AND DELL. IT’S ALL ABOUT CONFLICT BABY BY LOUISE TITCHENER I may be counter intuitive to think that romance novels are all about conflict, but it’s the fact and must be tackled when starting a first chapter. Conflict is central to any story telling. But in Romance the conflict is strictly defined and must be introduced in the first chapter, or at least, very early in the story. Readers are surprised when I tell them that a romance is not the same as a love story. Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet is a love story. The conflict in that classic play is not between the lovers. The lovers are in perfect accord. The conflict rocking their world, their parents’ feud, is outside of them. Jane Austen’s Price and Prejudice is a love story, but it’s first and foremost, a romance novel. The conflict is between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. Until that conflict is resolved they cannot find happiness. So, as you begin writing your romance novel, figure out what the central conflict is going to be. Of course, there can and should be several conflict in a romance novel. That’s true of any good story. But in romance the central conflict is always between hero and heroine. Here are the rules I’ve found to work best. Your conflict should be as interesting and unique as you can make it. Not easy when you consider how many romance novels are out there. A good conflict, I find, often springs from the needs, likes, dislikes, and life goals of the main characters. If your hero’s life goal is to be the first astronaut on Mars, and your heroine hates flying and wants to settle down in a rose-covered cottage, they have a problem. Can a powerful attraction overcome this situation? I don’t know. At the least, it’s going to be an interesting struggle.
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On the other hand, the conflict between the characters should not lessen their appeal. The reader needs to understand and sympathize with both points of view. If the reader starts to dislike the hero or heroine the story stumbles and falls down. Mr. Darcy may seem a bit priggish in his disdain for Elizabeth’s family. But given the behavior of her mother, younger sisters, and even her father, the reader can understand his reluctance court her. Elizabeth may seem extreme in her violent rejection of Mr. Darcy when he finally does declare his love, but we admire her integrity, wit, family loyalty and independence. When these two badly conflicted characters finally get together, it’s all the more satisfying. Another requirement, and this is vital, the conflict must take your main characters all through the story and not be resolved until the very end. When setting up that conflict in your all important first chapter, make it one that will stick for the next two hundred or so pages. I remember reading a romance in which the central conflict was resolved in the middle section of the book. The lovers spent the rest of the novel shopping for each other. Much as I love shopping, this didn’t work for me as a reader. These days I’m writing mystery novels. But I learned a lot from writing romance, and I had a lot of fun doing it. There’s nothing more satisfying than a really great romance with a compelling conflict. Louise Titchener Find out more about the author here (formerly writing as Jane Silverwood Anne Silverlocke, and with a variety of other pseudonyms collaborating with other authors)
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Summer Fling by Tarrah Anders Small towns are perfect for summer vacations and summer flings. The night before tourist season hits their sleepy little town, Emma had an impromptu drunken romp with a guy from a party… only to run into him just a few days later. After her last major heartbreak, Emma swore off dating any of the out of towners. She had never questioned that decision… until Royce arrived in town. At first, she thought he was just like any other tourist during the season, here today, gone tomorrow. However, when proved to her that he was putting down roots, that all changed.Emma can only trust what she knows. Tourists always leave and relationships began with them always have an expiration date. She has to protect her heart, even if she knows that if he goes, he will be taking it with him.
Honor Among SEALs by Dixie Lee Brown One minute, Kellie’s fleeing for her life. The next, she’s waking up beside a protective powerhouse who knows too much about her and is far too eager to help. Former SEAL MacGyver wasn’t hired to keep a runaway bride safe, but they need each other. They’ll have to lay all their cards on the table if they’re going to survive.
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HAZELET’S JOURNAL
A RIVETING ALASKA GOLD RUSH SAGA
BY J. H. CLARK The Copper River Country 1898 [Chapter One] LEAVING HOME BEHIND
“Oh, there are things in this life too sacred to speak about, and one is the love of a good wife.” February 17, 1898—Left home this day for Alaska, 4:35 PM. Have thought before that I had endured many hard things in this life, but never came across anything like parting from my family. I walked to school with my boys, to say goodbye out of sight of my wife.
their darling mother.
I can plainly see their little forms as they passed out of sight into the school house. The only thought that keeps me up is that I am going for the good of them and
And if the parting from my boys was hard, that from my wife was torture. I had known for days that it would be difficult but the sad look in those eyes I can never forget as she said, I know I shall never see you again. But she shall. I will come back to her and the boys, and prepare to take care of them as they deserve.
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Oh, there are things in this life too sacred to speak about, and one is the love of a good wife. I left the house with dire forebodings, but somehow since the train has pulled out, I have gained conďŹ dence, and especially determination. Determination to go forward and make one great effort to place my family on the plan to which they belong. I have taken a second class ticket and shall sit in chair car all night and for the next three nights, at least. I can’t write, my heart’s full. Continue reading this story here.
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Ridiculous by D .L. Carter Funny. Sexy. Cross Dressing. Not your mother’s Regency Romance. After the death of her miserly cousin Antony North, Millicent Boarder is determined her family should never be poor or vulnerable again. To protect them she conceals her cousin’s death and assumes his identity. Now she must face the Ton and the world as Mr. North and accept the price she must pay for her family’s safety -- she will never be loved. Which means now is the perfect time for her to meet a duke! Up to his neck in a mud puddle. “I have never left a review for a Kindle eBook before - in fact I had to create an account to leave this one! But this book was a truly wonderful find and I wanted other people to discover it too. I purchased this book while it was free due to some promotion by the publisher I think but I would have paid $7 or $8; it is far and away the best book I’ve ever read on my Kindle.The book itself is laugh out loud funny. The characters are witty and like-able without straying into caricature territory. The plot treads several well worn tropes, but takes them on in a new and fresh way. For example, one of the female characters is masquerading as a man. It is clear that at some point, a reveal must be made. Even before starting the book, I felt confident that I knew how it would go, since all books that use this plot device are the same. But I was wrong! It was handled so differently from other books. I wish I could go into more detail without spoilers, but suffice to say, this book had several such pleasant surprises where the author turned tired plot devices on their ear. This is definitely a stranded-on-a-desert-isle book!”
Bound to Morocco: Book One in the Morocco Series by Leslie Hachtel What if your family sold you to a Sultan’s Harem? Drugged and kidnapped, Shera finds herself on a ship to Morocco to serve the Sultan. Abandoned and alone, Shera must find a way to escape and confront the people who betrayed her. She gets help from an unlikely source: the man who kidnapped her. But, he has his own secrets. And, when their partnership turns to love, the two must face constant danger to endure. But will they ever be free? “I’m not a huge connoisseur of historical fiction, but I really enjoyed this book. Read it in one go, which means that the author did a few somethings right. :)” - Eve Smith “I enjoyed this book. Its fast-paced storyline keeps the reader involved and interested. It’s a romance but much more than that. It has mystery, intrigue and thrills. Morocco is like a picture painted for the background of the story.”
- Amazon reviewer
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Available on Amazon
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WHAT IF? BY DEE L. CARTER Atending a science fiction conference last year I wandered into the writers workshop. Several published authors were there to grant those hopefuls amongst us the benefit of their wisdom (and pitch their books.) During the question and answer period a poor defenseless high school student asked a question that stumped the panelists. She said, “I have really great characters. I know everything about them and I’m ready to write about them. How do you decide, or get inspiration for, stories to put them in?” Dead silence descended. No doubt these were people whose minds bubbled endlessly with ideas and possibilities. And, unable to think of an answer they passed on to other questions. I was not able to track the girl down after the session, and I doubt she will ever read this note, but I have some thoughts on the subject. Although authors do not often realize this consciously, all books are written to answer a question. . . .” What if . . . ?” What if . . . Maid Marion was the Sheriff of Nottingham? It is historically accurate. More than one woman served as Sheriff during the absence of her husband off on the crusades or after the death of said husband or her father. Would Robin have escaped quite so quickly? Would she have caught him faster? What tortures would she inflict? What if . . . you were a member of a culture that on the night of your eighteenth birthday you were supposed to dream the identity of your fated spouse? What would you do if you didn’t have the dream? What would you do if you did and discovered he was three mountain ranges, an ocean, a desert and a war zone away? Would you bother to go looking for him? Would you stay home? Would you lie and say you dreamed he died? Would you tell the truth? What
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would get you moving? The ‘What if ?’ concept aids me when I stagger to a halt in the middle of a story and need help getting going again. I sit and wonder – what if. . . What if. . . . I kill my hero. Okay, that has promise. Hell of a black moment. What if the heroine only thinks he’s dead? Dull. And it’s been done. What if he’s really dead? What if he’s only mostly dead? What if he was never really alive? What if the heroine knew where the entrance to hell was? What if she goes there and discovers he never had a soul and wasn’t there? And ‘What If ’ing’ helps when writing my pitch and query letters. Even if I didn’t know my ‘what if ’ question when I started the book, I’ll know by the end. And that’s what I’ll use as the opening line of my pitch. Example:- What if . . .when you’re getting ready to open a new restaurant and discover that the building is haunted? What if you find that your ghost is only 20 years dead? Come on now, ghosts are bad enough, but 20 years? That. . .that. . . that lacks dignity! And when coming to the unavoidable, inevitable, challenging sex scene ‘what if ’ comes in handy. What if – your heroine was caught in a ditch collapse as a child and now is dreadfully claustrophobic? Now, she must choose between two lovers. One, a skinny wretch only an inch taller than she. The other a huge bear of a man who likes to give big hugs and hard passionate kisses. What if – she cannot bear to have a man on top of her for sex ... Her claustrophobia kicks in? She can’t breathe, can’t think. Certainly wouldn’t enjoy it. What will that do to the relationships? Which man will she choose? And will my handy copy of the Karma Sutra provide the answer? Excuse me while I write the answer. *
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On the day that Dee Kenealy was born storms crashed across the land. Lightning shattered the sky. And a thunderous voice cried, “What do you mean – it escaped?” Now free – and part of the paranormal creature sanctuary program – spends time pretending to be human and serving cats – on toast.
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The Roughneck & the Lady by Erin Wade When Care-flight delivered a roughneck to Dr. Heather Hunter’s trauma unit, it turned her world upside down. Heather found herself in love with someone her mother found socially unacceptable. Someone whose job was so dangerous Heather fought falling in love to avoid a broken heart. Little did she know that her loved one was courting danger far deadlier than working on an oil rig. In the fast-moving, hard-loving, world of Texas oil tycoons and terrorists hell bent on destroying the Texas oil industry Dr. Hunter finds love in the fast lane breath taking and indescribably satisfying.
“I really enjoyed this book. Great love story with lots of action. Great character development. I highly recommend this book.” “Erin Wade has done it again. She’s written a book that totally enveloped me. I was drawn into the story & lived in it’s pages! Trin, the roughneck, was so much more than she seemed. Heather, the talented surgeon, performed a miracle operation on Trin. This book has everything I could wish for— drama, love, mystery, love, angst & well—more love! Thank you, Erin Wade for another great book. I’m looking forward to my next journey with you.”
Walking Through Fire by C J Bahr Simon MacKay, the last Earl of Cleitmuir, was murdered two hundred years ago because of his family’s dangerous legacy. Alone and cursed he haunts his home in order to protect the lost treasure. Antiquities expert, Laurel Saville, leaves Chicago to visit her best friend in the romantic Scottish Highlands. When the ghostly Simon saves her life, she pledges to help him, which is hindered by treasure hunter Alex MacKenzie. Laurel risks everything to help Simon resolve the issues keeping him earth bound. But will she lose him forever or is there a way Laurel can keep him with her on this earthly plane? Review: 5* Richly Written Story Gripping To The Last Page
“Treasure. Ghosts. Romance. Set in the Highlands. What’s not to like? Twists and turns you don’t see coming? What’s not to like? When you discover a little gem like this book in a sea of “I’ve read every highland book and they’re all the same” it’s something to shout from the roof tops. Laurel and Simon have great chemistry, the tension is there, but there’s also something you don’t see in books... compassion. This a great book!”. - Book Goddess Leah 24
Once Upon a Tablecloth by Leslie Hachtel Nick Jordan acquires failing restaurants, then makes them prosperous. But when Lily Mercer calls him for help, he didn’t count on falling in love. Or that someone wants to kill her. And with so many obstacles and threats, can she survive? Can their love?
“This story is funny, steamy, suspenseful, and romantic with wonderful strong characters both male and female it was a nice way to pass an afternoon.” - Amazon reviewer
“I loved this book! Leslie has a talent for bringing life and re-
latability to her characters! She has written another winner in my opinion. This is a wonderful romantic suspense book for anyone who enjoys a good love story with twists and a who did it type plot!” - Shani K.
up n sig our to ader re t lis
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WRITING LEADING LADIES BY KIRSTEN FULLMER I’m often asked “How do you choose leading ladies for your novels?” I suppose the correct answer would be a combination of “They choose me” and “A lot of hard work”. Let’s break it down and sort out how to create a lead character, be that a woman, a man, or some creature that you, as an author, concoct. I usually have a few ideas thumping around in mind when I create a character. Some of my leading ladies came from a problem I have been dealing with personally, as a vivid experience can prompt you to write. Book two of my Hometown Series, Hometown Girl After All, features Julia who is overcoming a life-threatening illness, because I too had been through such a trial and I wanted to write about it. But sometimes a leading character can spring from something as simple as a trendy topic, such as a decorating style like the junk gypsy movement. Tara, in Hometown Girl at Heart, came about because I was into finding old furniture and reworking it. Once my garage was full of junk, I knew I needed to either buy a bigger house or live vicariously through my writing. Once you have a character in mind, comes the fun of placing them into a setting. This is often the most telling part of the process because you get to decide how your character will respond to the other people and situations in the setting. Sometimes you get lucky and a character comes to life in your mind and respond to circumstances on their own. When this happens, all you have to do is type and try to keep up. But remember that people want to read about something beyond the mundane they experience every day. It can be a trick to keep your character larger than life, yet relatable. This can be accomplished by leaving a chink in the character’s armor, some small fault or vulnerability with which your readers can sympathize.
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Consider, for instance, the story of Scarlett O’hara, in Gone with the Wind, where a young woman of wealth and means is forced to face the loss of her home, her friends, her love interest, and her way of life, amidst war. Even though her situation is about as far removed from our everyday life as you can get, the vulnerability of her position, alone and scared, in over her head, angry and sometimes irrational, draws you into her plight. Another important part of creating a stellar character is choosing a setting where the character can thrive. Or maybe a setting where they flounder, that part is up to you, but always chose a setting where your character can do their thing, even if their thing is searching for something different. Scarlet, for instance, is left to her own devises to survive and feed her rag-tag family, during and after the Civil War, but the problems your characters face need not to be life threatening, depending on your gene. For example, in my novel Hometown Girl Forever, Lizzie is thrilled to have started over in a new place, ready to build her dream lifestyle, but problems from back home come to find her. In my novel Love on the Line, Andrea is trying a difficult new job, one where she’s the only woman on site. In book four of The Hometown series, Christmas in Smithville, Gloria is hoping to change the town’s opinion of her by convincing them that she’s changed. Remember to create a setting for your character that is full of scenes in which they can develop throughout the story. Consider Scarlett whose story spans years, as well as multiple relationships and conditions as she rebuilds her life. The options are endless, as long as the setting offers the character room to grow. Next, offer your lead character challenges to overcome that will give your story a beginning, a middle, and an end. Scarlett must root through the dirt for forgotten potatoes after escaping through a burning city, but your character’s trouble can be much more trivial, anything from money issues to family conflict, to geographical challenges, or political trouble. Just remember that your character’s personality, strengths, and weaknesses will be defined by how they overcome these challenges. In Hometown Girl at Heart, Tara believes she is like her furniture; cast off junk under a polished exterior. She feels an affinity to her work because of this, but she has become a bit of a control freak in order to cope with her insecurities.
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She has to learn to loosen up to move forward. In Love on the Line, Andrea has to find a way to do a good job and fit in where she’s not welcome. The joy of writing is that you can chose not only the character, but the setting, and the problems the character will face. Lastly, give your character motivation, something they strive for. Scarlett’s driven to never fear for food and shelter, but even as she accomplishes that goal, she never stops longing for her lost love, Ashley Wilkes. Her pride and longing drive most, if not all, of her actions. In Love on the Line, Andrea, first and foremost, wishes to make her grandfather proud, even as she strives to find inner strength. In book five of The Hometown Series, Hometown Girl Again, Katherine is determined to build a glamping RV park. It doesn’t really matter what drives your character, as long as their desires are woven into the story and setting. To wrap up, you can fashion an effective leading character by defining their passion and creating a great setting, then mix in some personality with a smidge of humility. Toss this character into a bit of trouble or personal angst, and you have the recipe for success! Kirsten Fullmer’s charming romance novels have spent the last three years rising to the top of the Amazon best seller’s list in 12 countries. Find out more about Kirsten and her writing here.
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THE STALKER BY JEFF SHEAR When I stepped into the subway car, I exchanged glances with a woman wearing a Crayola green faux fur jacket tossed like a cape over her shoulders. As the train bumped from station to station, she adjusted her jacket to keep from slipping off her broad shoulders. The fake fur might have looked like a large green rug sample on another woman but not on her. It might have been pricey, not quite pricey enough for Bergdorf ’s window but Bloomingdales for sure. She wore it with panache. It was she that gave it style, not the other way around. How does that happen, style? Some people just have it, that “look.” Did it come from the way she carried herself, which was a kind of limp almost swooning grace, even as we jounced to a stop at 34th Street? Or was it that languor in her gaze, as her eyes roamed around the noisy train and then stopped on mine? Or maybe it was her gall that did it, the way she turned her back when she saw me staring at her as we pulled into the 42nd Street station, and I lost my balance. Or maybe it wasn’t style I was looking at. Maybe it was that glance we first shared. Maybe I was intrigued by the feeling that brought over me? For a moment, the wet wool smell of the train car distracted me. She was in her late twenties. Her hair was short and well-cut rising to a graceful pompadour that swooned and then dissolved behind her right ear. Big jewelry is in; I read that in Vogue. She wore a lanyard necklace of pewter chips that fell nearly to her waist where it was anchored by a buckle-sized emerald pendant. She touched it, and that’s when I saw her blood-red nails. I took notice of her left hand. Slim fingers. No wedding ring. She glanced at me. And when she turned away, she leaned against the car’s handrail, a wraith wrapped in a green fur carpet. Really, I don’t follow people around, I wouldn’t stalk anyone, but I followed her off the Number One train at 79thStreet. She had glanced back at me as she stepped off the car. Was it an invitation, I saw or was she ensuring herself I wasn’t a stalker? I was careful to be the last passenger off the train car because I didn’t want to frighten her. I kept my distance as I followed. In the early spring twilight, she walked briskly toward Amsterdam Avenue and
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passed under the maroon awning of the Lucerne Hotel, a tall pink stone edifice dominating the corner where she turned left. At that hour, about 7 p.m, the streets were still excited by window shoppers and residents returning from midtown and their jobs. Each day now, the sun hung on later and later, and at this hour the chugging gray fetor of car exhausts wafted away, and the air freshened on the aromas of ethnic eateries. I fitted in with this crowd. I dressed well, wore my clothes well. I could have been part of this soaringly upward mobile neighborhood, instead of being lashed to the two-room where I lived in Alphabet City. I shadowed her as she walked past Insomnia Cookies and the Great Burrito, past a dry cleaner, and an Indian restaurant. I debated whether to jog up to her and introduce myself, asking her if she had a moment for a drink. There was no shortage of watering holes and white wine bars around here. A cab honked, and I dodged. It was she that distracted me as she turned right onto 80th, a calm, tree-lined block with an Italian restaurant on one corner and the Cava Bar opposite. She took the odd-numbered side of the street where fire escapes took scissor steps across the apartment fronts. The even side where I walked was New York-New York: Brownstones with marble steps leading up to a rez de chaussée. She had to be a woman with money to have a place on this street. Maybe that’s the style I saw in her, her cash. But her style came naturally; it was a way of being not posing. It took money to live in Manhattan’s mid-eighties. A studio apartment here went for about half a million. I knew that because I checked the real estate ads every day. This was the place to live. Central Park was there straight ahead, a block or so away. I brushed a bead of perspiration from my upper lip. Keeping pace with her was not easy. Like an athlete, her grace translated into speed, yet she did not hurry. On her side of the block, orange and white plastic traffic drums lined the street where sidewalk repairs were underway. But the obstacles didn’t slow her, and she stopped at a mail pick-up to fumbled with her green faux fur jacket and search inside her pocketbook. I stopped as suddenly as she did and tied my shoelaces. It was an awkward moment, but I was just far enough away from her to be noticed. When I looked back around, I saw the fob of keys dangling from her hand. She started up the next set of tan stairs to her building. At that, my sense of urgency took over my sense of decency, and I crossed the
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street to her side as she stopped at the polished wood and glass entry doors to her building. She must have caught a glimpse of me reflected in the windows, and she grabbed a quick look over her shoulder. I think our eyes met. Had she smiled? Yes. I saw a hint, but I don’t know. I froze. It might have been a look of concern or fear as if she had she recognized me as the man staring at her on the subway. I don’t know. By my right, a taxi pulled over to the curb to drop off a fare. The woman who got out was tall and hidden inside a swath of gray sable. My paramour had stopped to glance over her mail. The woman in fur smiled my way and our eyes met, mine wide, hers fluttering her and long-lashed. As she passed, she left a trail of Guerlain in her wake. The cab had lingered. I caught my breath. “Hey,” I called, and three faces turned toward me. I felt something primitive in my loins. On impulse, I yanked open the taxi door and looked back to see the faux green carpet swing through the entry. Then, I saw the sable coat smile at the man who must have gone out from the other side of the taxi as I got in. The cabbie asked me, “Where you wanna go?” “Drop me at Bloomingdales,” I said. It was a good place to have a look around. Jeff Shear’s the author of the book an investigation into a weapon’s deal between the US and Japan, entitled The Keys to the Kingdom. The book was published by Doubleday. More about the book:
Recounting how greed for profitable export income has caused the United States to sell some of its most sensitive and state-of-the-art technology, a study on the FS-X deal questions the judgment and process behind such decisions. 25,000 first printing. $25,000 ad/ promo. Tour.
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BLOOD INSTINCTS BY MARIE LAVENDER From out of nowhere, a dark figure materialized at the foot of the bed. For a moment, it grasped the iron rail with black claws. At least, she thought they were. The shadow was tall and through the darkness, she could detect a pale gaze. Impossible. She shut her eyes tight, sure it was her imagination screwing with her head. Or at least a dream’s remnants. When she opened them once more, the figure was gone. Like it had never been. Her breath whooshed out in a relieved half-laugh. “Been hitting the vodka again, Myah?” A masculine chuckle nearby made her body freeze. She gasped, scrambling back against the headboard. Scanning the room, she couldn’t see the intruder. “Wha…who are you? What do you want?” Duh, Myah. What else could a man want if he broke into her apartment? Money or use of her body, willing or unwilling. Then she saw him again, the dark figure closer, standing beside the bed. She opened her mouth to scream, but was tackled across the mattress. Before her mind could track the motion, a hand clamped over her lips. He’d moved so fast. Terror propelled her movements and she bucked, trying to throw him off. Only it was impossible. He was too strong, and a corner of her mind informed her it wasn’t just because he was a man. “Shh. Relax, darling. Don’t scream. I won’t harm you.” Yeah, right. Let me take your word on that one. I swear I won’t hurt you, a low, masculine tone echoed in her brain. Even in the darkness, his eyes seemed to burn into hers. “I mean it, you know. I can’t hurt you.” Though her chest rose and fell beneath him with panicked breaths as he pinned her, she heard his grave vow. “If I move my hand away, do you promise you won’t yell?” Maybe, but I won’t promise not to bite. Her teeth ached, and she dismissed it as the fact that his hand was fastened across her mouth. She managed a tight nod in reply. The intruder eased his hand off her. With legs split open beneath him, his hard weight registered. His scent was unusual, like an orange and spices, and when 33
his solid form urged up against her, she shook her head. Deep inside her was a strange quiver. In fact, her entire body was tingling like some internal warning system. She knew no matter what happened tonight, she might not escape this alive. “I really won’t hurt you, Myah Sullivan.” “I can’t be sure of that,” she rasped. “Perhaps you’ll murder me and no one will ever know.” She saw the shadow as his head shook. “I cannot harm you. You have my vow and the pain it causes me to even imagine it.” His voice was deep, yet it had an achy pitch, and she couldn’t help wanting to believe him. Stop it, she scolded herself. There was no way to know what he intended. Myah wet her suddenly dry lips. Keep him talking and don’t piss him off. That was the smarter move here. “H-how do you know me?” He shrugged and his mouth caressed her cheek. Had he been stalking her for a while? Her breaths sped up – a combination of what he was doing to her as well as the thought that he’d planned this for a reason other than theft. When his lips brushed her throat and the cold air he released through his nose whispered over her ear, she wanted to moan. His tongue traced the soft depression beneath her lobe, then his lips traveled the curve of her neck. Her body warmed. Mouth agape, it took a second to recognize she wasn’t repulsed. Far from it. Little by little, she realized her fightor-flight response had turned to desire. He still held her immobile though. As she resisted, kicking out at him, he slipped into the softness between her hips. A bulge that shouldn’t have been there, pressing into her again. Instead of incapacitating her wrists on the mattress, he held her hands in his. She clutched his larger ones in return and had no idea why she experienced such a response to him. Suddenly, she was willing, felt urgent. “You want me,” she stated. Why it’d spilled from her mouth, she had no idea. It wasn’t like she had any intention of encouraging him, his impressive erection aside. His laugh was self-derisive. “But that’s not why I came.” He used his teeth to scrape against her neck gently. Myah shuddered with a foreign anticipation. “Please,” she whispered. Her entire body grew increasingly warm beneath his ministrations. What on earth was happening? She should be fighting back, or at least bide her time until she could locate a weapon. But the flashlight inside her bedside table wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, it wasn’t like she could reach it with him holding her down. Damn it. The man groaned when he inhaled hard, his face in her neck. The sensation tickled her skin. Welcome warmth moved through her body. As he nuzzled her,
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her eyes automatically closed, head tilting in response as if to supply him better access. Part of her, the sensible half, stiffened in horror. No! What was she thinking, letting him do God knew what to her? “Pl-please,” she found herself saying once more. “Please, what? Please stop or would you like me to continue?” Her brain seemed to stall out. “I…ah, I don’t know.” He chuckled. “It appears we’re in the same strange mess.” She couldn’t manage a reply. He lifted his head to stare down at her. “I’m going to ask you an important question, Myah. Will you answer me?” She nodded, returning to her conversational plan. That was best. Probably for both of them if her reaction to him was any indication. “If I can.” “Fair enough. Do you know what you are, Myah? Who you are?” “I don’t understand. You know my full name.” “But do you know what are you? A part of you, somewhere inside, knows you’re different from everyone else. I smell it on you.” She frowned, tempted to ask what he smelled exactly, other than her perfume. She was meticulous about bathing. Gazing up at him, she felt she was on the precipice of comprehension, something monumental. But his words were foreign. They didn’t make any sense to her addled brain. Especially when combined with the fact that she understood she wanted him closer, much closer. But, she wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. Hell, maybe the guy was crazy. What if you found out that you weren’t exactly… human? Enter the Other World at your own risk… What if you found out that you weren’t exactly…human? Myah Sullivan is suddenly living that nightmare. There are Others in the world, dangerous, supernatural creatures that make her mind spin and cause her to question the reality she’s always known. Oliver King is her savior, a vampire who tries to show her the way. Through her journey she learns far more than she ever thought she would about herself, and
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about the past. Soon, she discovers that there is so much more to meeting Oliver than mere happenstance. Can Myah accept her new reality, or will she retreat into that normal, safe world she once thought was her own? Multi-genre author of Victorian romance, Marie Lavender lives in the Midwest with her family and three cats. She has been writing for a little over twenty-five years. She has more works in progress than she can count on two hands. Since 2010, Marie has published 24 books in the genres of historical romance, contemporary romance, romantic suspense, paranormal romance, dramatic fiction, fantasy, science fiction, mystery/thriller, literary fiction and poetry. She has also contributed to several anthologies. Her current published series are
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WE’RE ALL THIEVES: A STEAMY PIRATE ROMANCE BY DYRION KNIGHT He swaggers on deck as if his body isn’t bound in chains. As if the lifeless figures of his guards aren’t strewn around us, leaking blood onto my boots. He meets my eye, his grin crooked, brows raised as he takes me in: a woman. A pirate. I can practically hear the thoughts running through his mind. Lost little girl, playing in a man’s world. He glances over my shoulder as if expecting to find the true captain, not some female swathed in deep red; corset tight and ruffled skirt too short. Edmund and Charold flank him, yanking him back as he approaches me with misplaced confidence. ‘And here stands our plunder,’ I purr, striding closer, hands braced on my hips, barely an inch from my pistol and blade. Now it’s my turn to take him in. He isn’t the broad hulking type, but he’s stacked with rippling muscles that he flexes as he tries to pull free from the chains. His hair is as deep as night, matching the depthless dark of his eyes and his face could have been chiselled from marble—sharp angles and defined cheekbones, skin as pale as bone. A stark contrast to the mahogany shade of my own. Crimson blood drips from his lower lip and sucking it up, he spits it at my feet. They told me he was arrogant. I didn’t realise he was a fool as well. Jag Harver. Runaway, ruffian, and revered. Respected for all the things he did as a squib on the streets—stealing, conning, anything to make ends meet—and now he’s practically worshipped for that little trinket burned into his chest, glinting beneath his torn open shirt. The Crest of Miracles. It’s about the size of my palm, a pattern of loops and swirls. Its gold iridescent, 37
green jewels dotting it like drops of spring. Many before him have tried to bind themselves to the artefact. Pressing it to their skin only to have it scorch its way through flesh and bone, tainting their blood with poison, until they die a slow, agonising death…but not Jag Harver. Rumour has it, when the relic touched his skin, he cackled and sang as it burrowed into his chest, and instead of burning through his heart, it settled there. His skin glowing like a lit torch and his eyes drizzling gold. It’s ironic really that the Crest settled on Jag Harver, possibly the only person who never wanted—or needed—its power, the burden it brings. And so, he never uses it. I trail my finger down his chest now, pressing on the relic. He tries to step back but Edmund and Charold keep him in place. His eyes flash with anger, his jaw clenches. He could rip this ship to shreds, strike our flesh from our bones, but no, not Jag Harver. What a waste. All that power and yet he believes the myths. That the one who uses the Crest of Miracles’ energy, uses the energy of their soul. Stripping what is them from existence. I can feel his own power thrumming from him though. It seems to sizzle on the air. Like calls to like. Power to power. The Crest to Jag Harver. ‘What now?’ he growls. His dark stare seeping into me, peeling me apart. My heart stammers. He’s even more stunning than he is on the Wanted posters. His dark hair’s fallen into his face, the veins in his neck bulging as he still tries to pull free of the chains. He glares at me, waves of rage rolling off of him. He has the look of a pirate, a spirit as rampant as the sea. My toes curl. Stories of Jag Harver fuelled my childhood and I often dreamt of running away with the renegade thief. Handsome, cunning, and brave beyond measure. Too bad he’s now my prisoner and a condemned one at that. Jutting my chin at Edmund and Charold, I say, ‘Bring him.’ ‘Bring him,’ Jag scoffs. ‘No one’s bringing me anywhere.’ I’m surprised when his feet stay planted in place no matter how fiercely my men pull him. I glance at the Crest still nestled over his heart, unreactive. He isn’t using its magic…this is all him. His strength. His power. I chuckle lowly, lifting my wide-brimmed hat to grant me a clearer view. ‘Come with us, willingly,’ I warn, then gesture to my crew soaking the ship in
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cannon powder and gasoline, ‘or burn with the dead.’ He actually seems to consider the options, lips twisted in thought. Suns! He’s arrogant. Clicking my fingers, I shout, ‘Dexin, Farouk.’ Two of my crewmen rush over. Without having to be asked they each grab one of Jags legs—Edmund and Charold at his arms—and haul him off his feet. ‘You best learn to listen, Plunder,’ I grin when he scowls at the nickname, still tugging against the four men that bind him, ‘it’s a long journey back to Arkanium and will seem a hell of a lot longer if you keep trying to fight me.’ ‘You’re going to take me back?’ he barks and for an instant his shield slips, a flash of fear flickering in his gaze. I don’t blame him. I’d be terrified too if I was going to be tortured by the Ruling Council. Then again, I’d never be stupid enough to steal from them, like he did. And he didn’t just steal any old thing. No, he stole the damned Crest of Miracles. A reckless—albeit talented thief— who thought he could take a priceless heirloom and give it his own price. But as everyone in Arkanium knows, things didn’t go according to Jag’s plan. ‘You’re making a mistake,’ he seethes as my men carry him to the ships rail, passing him between them as they step up on the wooden plank connecting my ship to this one. ‘Not likely, Plunder,’ I smirk, ‘unlike you, I don’t make mistakes.’
Dyrion Knight is a Brit with wit who loves delighting the imagination. Though she is an experienced USA Today bestselling author of Young Adult Fantasy (under a different name), Dyrion is new to the world of writing adult fantasy romance and has quickly fallen in love. Dyrion is the author of the Blood Bound Trilogy, a steamy pirate affair with monsters and magic! Book 1, We’re All Thieves, is out now and she’s gearing up to release book 2 in the winter of 2018.
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THE SIREN’S CALL BY KAREN MICHELLE NUTT Captain Le Sage took to the sea expecting to find fame and fortune but instead, a storm claimed his ship and left him the sole survivor. Ashamed, he did not return home immediately to his wife but took comfort in another woman’s arms. However, peace did not come to him. He craved his wife’s embrace and knew he must beg her forgiveness. Upon his return, the villagers informed him his wife had taken her own life. She’d mourned his death, believing he’d perished alongside his men and had flung herself into the ocean in hopes of joining him in a watery grave. Heartbroken, day after day, he roamed the shore, and his given name was soon forgotten. The villagers would leave him food as if they pitied him and soon they referred to him as the hermit, and rightly so. His long graying hair and beard certainly played the part, and his scrawled writings began to resemble a madman’s prose. However, his prayers remained as dedicated as a monk’s. He craved death so he could join his wife and no less would satisfy his aching heart. The nights proved the worst form of torture when his guilt, his constant companion, reminded him he still drew breath. When a storm threatened the village, like the one he faced at sea with his men, he hurried to the beach and prayed it would finally claim him. He burst through the trees as lightning streaked the sky. His feet wandered closer to the shore, where a strange mist met the water and the waves rose ever higher. Fear, he could not explain, threatened to choke him and yet he stayed rooted where he stood. The ocean grew suddenly calm, and the waves receded, leaving a ghostly figure of a woman in its wake. Her long golden brown hair flowed gently behind her as if the wind caressed the locks with gentle hands. She reminded him of his wife in every way, except for the eyes. They were blue like his wife’s, but the shade so intense, the night could not hide the brightness in the shadows. Her gaze locked onto him and her hand lifted, not in greeting but keenly beckoning him. Her lips curved sweetly, and yet her beguiling charms did not reach those strange colored eyes. When the first raindrops fell on the sand, the ghostly woman turned suddenly and shot like a star toward the
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waves, disappearing beneath the surface. A strangled cry stole from his lips as if her departure had physically harmed him. The next night, when the storm had calmed, but the moon still danced with the clouds, he returned to the shore in hopes of catching a glimpse of this siren that had come from the sea to find him. She appeared again in the same fashion. This time, she blew kisses to him. Her laughter and her voice were like a melody inside his head. He wanted to go to her and yet he still could not take the steps. His subconscious warned him this beautiful ghostlike creature, which looked like his wife, was not as enchanting as she appeared. As the sun kissed the sky, once more the sea spirit vanished beneath the water, and his world fell so deathly silent. On the third day, the hermit returned to the shore and sat down as close to the water’s edge as he dared. He would wait for her. His heart filled with longing for just a glimpse of the ghostlike maiden from the sea. As days passed and no one from the village had seen the hermit, one curious soul ventured toward the old man’s shack, expecting to find he had perished, but the dwelling stood empty. He was about to return home when something caught his eye. He strode toward the lump on the beach, expecting to find a body, but it was just the hermit’s jacket, worn with holes and ragged tears. He shaded his eyes and glanced toward the water, wondering if the old man had walked into the sea. He spotted something, but it was not the hermit. A pale, almost translucent woman floated high on a wave with her arm outstretched, beckoning him. He blinked in disbelief, and when he looked again, the ghostly figure had vanished as if she’d never been there at all. The End Karen Michelle Nutt resides in California with her husband. Though her three children are grown and starting their own adventures, she still has a houseful of demanding pets. Jack, her Chorkie, is her writing buddy and sits long hours with her at the computer. When she’s not time traveling, fighting outlaws, or otherworldly creatures, she creates book covers at Gillian’s Book Covers, “Judge Your Book By Its Cover”. Whether your reading fancy is paranormal, time travel or contemporary romances all her stories capture the rich array of emotions that accompany the most fabulous human phenomena—falling in love.
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A SHORT STORY ABOUT LOVE BY FRANK DALEY When our two daughters were young, they came to us one day with the THE question. “Who do you love more, Elizabeth or me?” said Grace. I replied, “We love you equally. Not exactly the same, but equally. They looked at me as if I was from Mars. They figured the question was simple and direct and required a simple, direct, and truthful response. Grace assumed the typical “what?” physical response: head shake, hands out to the side and uplifted slightly, in a plea that said, “What”? I continued, a little concerned. “We can’t and don’t love you “the same” because you are individuals with different personalities and different ways of interacting with life, but we love you equally. They are both keen observers of life and they were not happy with that they were hearing. They pressed for a better answer. “You’re not answering the question.,” said Grace. My wife tried. “Not the same exactly, but as much,” she said. “We do not love one of you more than the other.” They didn’t buy it.
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Grace, who was eight, and later became a writer, rolled her green eyes in exasperation. Elizabeth, who was five, and later became an artist, and an art teacher, frowned and narrowed her green eyes. Was this green-eyed jealousy? Or, “Hell hath no fury like a second child scorned? They are both keen observers of life and they were not happy with that they were hearing. They pressed for a better answer. “OK, I said, “Who do you love more, mommy or daddy?” They stopped glaring and stared at me and then my wife, who was smiling. Then they looked at each other and then back to us. “Ok,” Grace said. “We get it.” They then turned around and went off to play. The question, the whole issue, never arose again.
FREE! CURSE OF THE OTTAWA A story of revenge into ten generations. There’s no such thing as a curse, now, right? Right. Except ten people are dead. Get it here!
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