Hello Readers, I’m Caroline Clemmons and I write western romance. That sounds a bit like I’m at an anti-addiction meeting, doesn’t it? Well, writing is an addiction—but I’m not trying to recover. I love being a writer. Of course, I’m a reader, too.
My husband and I live in North Central Texas where we are staff to three cats and a dog. Other than being with my husband and children, my happy place is in my little office that I call my pink cave. Surrounded by books and memorabilia, I create stories I love on my desktop computer. I hope readers love them, too. My intention is that readers are uplifted and entertained by my stories.
Usually, I write historical romances, but I also author contemporaries, time travels, and mysteries set in the west. So far, I’ve written fifty-two titles and I’ve plans for many more. No matter how many times I write the same time period, each book requires specific research. For my latest release, AN AGENT FOR MAGDALA, Pinkerton Matchmaker Series book 37, I searched for the land route from Denver to San Antonio, Texas in 1871. I was astonished to learn that not only were there no rail lines where I needed them to be, there were very few roads a passenger stagecoach would travel—rough terrain, little water, lots of Comanche, Kiowa, and Apache made travel difficult.
My two Pinkerton agents are assigned a case in San Antonio, Texas and must travel there from Denver. At that time San Antonio had a little over eight thousand people. This community had been a trade center beginning in the eighteenth century with the Spanish. They established five missions there: the Alamo, Concepción, San Jose, San Juan, and Estrada. Even people who are not from Texas have probably heard of the Alamo. I was surprised to learn that at the time of the famous battle in 1836, the Alamo had a flat roof and not the arched one added during restoration.
A large portion of AN AGENT FOR MAGDALA takes place in The Menger Hotel. The Menger has been an important San Antonio destination since 1859. When the hotel opened, Mary and William Menger were so successful that they immediately added more rooms. Through its life the hotel has been remodeled as new conveniences became available and has remained popular with travelers. There is a rumor that ghosts reside in the Menger but when our youngest daughter stayed there she did not encounter one. Frankly, she was a little disappointed even though she enjoyed the hotel’s accommodations.
AN AGENT FOR MAGDALA
She craves adventure, but this may be too much… His job means the world to him… Capturing jewel thieves will test them…
Magdala leaps at the opportunity to become a Pinkerton agent. Learning the position requires a paper marriage shocks but doesn’t deter her. She plans to get an annulment before her unusual family learns of the situation. She’s determined to prove she has the grit to be an excellent investigator. But, why does she have to be partnered with the one man who has been rude to her?
Douglas “Cloud” Ryan loves being a Pinkerton agent. Otherwise, he’d never go along with his boss’ crazy plan to marry him to a female agent. He’s certain women have no business dealing with criminals. After enduring the stagecoach trip from Denver to San Antonio, Maggie needs to stay in the background and let him solve the case. He has reasons to distrust women, especially women like Maggie.
Can Maggie and Cloud catch the jewel thieves plaguing an historic San Antonio hotel without becoming victims? Will they take a chance on the love growing between them?
Here’s an excerpt from their first full day in the Menger Hotel where they’re pretending to be Princess Magdala of Bayergrovenia and her husband, the Duke of Montpelier:
He’d learned that Maggie was cheerful when she first woke. He envied her because he needed an hour or two before he could appreciate people. There he went again. Concentrate on the case instead of thinking about her habits and moods.
Instead of the voluminous coat she’d had with her on the trip, today she wore a fur jacket. He had to admit that in a green dress that looked very expensive and wearing a fur, no one would doubt she was a princess. Her jewelry was less spectacular than she’d worn last night, but still eye-catching.
After breakfast, Cloud pulled out his pocket watch. “Perfect timing. Shall we meet the McMillans?”
He held her chair while she stood then she put her hand on his arm. Man, she was good at looking regal. If he didn’t know differently, he’d believe she really was a princess.
But, apparently people thought he was a duke. Even though the admission cost his pride, he had to confess he and Maggie made a good pair. They looked and acted—at least in public—their parts of a happily married royal couple who had plenty of money and time to spend it.
To thank you for reading this far, I’m giving a $10 Amazon gift card to one person who leaves a comment on this post telling me their favorite fictional hero or heroine.
Thanks so much for welcoming to your blog, Delilah. I always enjoy visiting! I’d like to share the spotlight with Sarah, the heroine from Between the Pipes.
Hi everyone, Sarah here! I thought I’d pop in and introduce myself. From nine to five, I’m a family doctor, and two evenings a week I run a mobile clinic —essentially, I bring the clinic to teens living on the street.
Working at the mobile clinic is the best part of my week. It’s something I founded when I moved to Clarington after graduating, and I’m extremely proud of it. I’ve been in Clarington for 4 years now and share a lot of adventures with my three friends — Danni Angelo, Kelly Danali, and Jordyn Kendra.
I love Clarington, but I have a bit of a confession. I don’t like hockey. I mean, I really don’t like hockey. I know, shh. I think I’m the only one in all of Clarington who isn’t crazy about the hometown team, the Clarington Quakes. But frankly, if I never step foot in an arena, I wouldn’t miss it. But that’s okay. I’ve lived very happily and pretty easily under the radar — so far (despite my best friend being the team doctor!)
My favourite hobby when I’m not working is setting tables. I like to entertain, and I enjoy the creative process of creating a lovely tablescape. Funny — when I visit other people I’m happy to eat off paper plates if they want to make a meal for me. But when I invite someone over, I get just as much enjoyment from setting the table as I do sharing the meal. Here are a few of my favourites. (I have a lot of dishes 🙂 )
Between the Pipes
(In the Game Hockey Romance, Book 1)
In the Game Hockey Romance series
Medical Romantic Comedy
Sports romance – hockey
Sarah Jain is a family doctor in a hockey-crazy town. She hates hockey. She hasn’t gone anywhere near a rink in years, until her friend, the team doctor, calls in a favour. Mike Wallace is the starting goalie for the Clarington Quakes, the local professional hockey team. He’s not about to let an injury slow him down or a rookie doctor call the shots.
Sarah and Mike don’t respect each other’s jobs. When they have to work together, sparks fly and ice melts. Can they play a game they both can win?
She’d love any excuse to spend time with him. It’d be so easy to say yes. But going for coffee together veered into the realm of personal. If she could keep their relationship professional, it wouldn’t be a problem, but she was already attracted to him. Much as she wanted to say yes, her conscience said no. First, he was a patient, and second, how could she think about getting involved with a hockey player? Passion for hockey was the last thing they’d ever share. As tempting as it was, she needed to give this one a miss.
“I’m sorry. Unfortunately, I can’t.”
“You sure?” Mike smiled slowly. “I could spring for a jelly donut.”
She laughed. He didn’t have to sweeten the invitation. He was eye-candy enough. “Tempting, but…”
“Too much sugar? How ’bout an apple fritter? Sounds a little healthier.”
It really was too bad. “Ah well, I was going to go for a bike ride.” That was good. Sounded athletic…she had plans. Nothing personal.
“On your own?”
She nodded reluctantly.
“You know, I have the day off. I could come along and prove that my ribs are okay. If I can cycle, then I can play.”
His eyes looked so hopeful. She felt awful, but she needed to dissuade him. “I don’t go very fast.” Sarah winced silently. He potentially had a rib fracture. He needed slow.
“I don’t mind.”
“It might rain.” She scowled at the beautiful blue skies, without a trace of clouds.
Mike laughed. “I don’t mind getting wet. Why don’t I grab a picnic lunch, and we can meet at the South Lock parking lot in an hour? We can cycle along the river, break for lunch, and come back. How does that sound?”
Perfect, she thought glumly. For a bad idea, it sounded perfect.
About the Author
Award-winning author Linda O’Connor started writing romantic comedies when she needed a creative outlet other than subtly rearranging the displays at a local home décor store. Her books have enjoyed bestseller status. When not writing, she’s a physician at an Urgent Care Clinic. She shares her medical knowledge in fast-paced, well-written, sexy romances — with an unexpected twist. Her favourite prescription to write? Laugh every day. Love every minute.
I think I have an entity that hides things from me. No joke! Twice in the past two months I bought allergy/mucus relief meds that got lost in my car. Maybe some entity was telling me not to take them, since I had been taking the meds a lot lately and some folks say they are bad for us. With the first set of meds, my calendar also disappeared. I still like paper calendars, and I depend on mine. Of course, I saw none for 2019 in the Dollar Tree, so I bought a notebook to fill in as a calendar and a calendar for 2020. As luck would have it, new calendars for the school year appeared in stores after I created my own. I didn’t find the lost one after I created one. Nor did the meds show up. Usually, things I replace show up to mock me. Maybe Mercury being in retrograde has something to do with my losses.
With the second set of meds I also had herbal tea bags in boxes. That bag never made it into my house, but it wasn’t in my car, either. The boxes should have made losing the bag less likely. BUT it didn’t! Again, maybe I wasn’t supposed to take the meds, but the tea?
The kicker, this time, is a blood pressure cuff and a pack of batteries. I bought it Sunday, but it didn’t make it into my house. Yes, I searched my trunk and the inside of my car, ’cause I tossed my wallet and my cell phone onto the driver’s seat and two larger bags into my trunk. The receipt for the BP cuff and I will go back to the store where I bought it and hope I left the bag in my buggy when I took it back inside.
The clerk seemed off when he rung up my purchases, but I know he gave it to me, and I know my allergy brain wasn’t working, soooo maybe I did take it back inside.
This summer has been crazy. I now have three books in the Protective Series.
Protecting Melissa is a Romantic Suspense set in Georgia.
Melissa isn’t looking for romance since the murder of her cheating, swindling husband. She wants to teach and mind her own business. However, someone her husband cheated is determined to make her repay money her husband stole before his murder in the bed of one of his paramours.
Complications arise when Gabe, her former crush, walks into her classroom to check on his son, one of her students. The kid has a secret, she knows that secret, and his father wants to know that secret.
When Gabe and Melissa leave a basketball game and find all four tires on her vintage Mustang flat, he determines she needs his protection, despite her insistence she doesn’t. Gabe and Melissa’s brother were best friends. He looked after her when she tagged along behind him and her brother. Since her brother is out of the country Gabe feels obligated to protect her, just until her brother returns.
Someone has planted cameras in her house and made intimate looking photographs he shares on the Internet with her students. Who is sending her threatening emails and how far will her go to get what he wants?
Excerpt:
Melissa and Gabe have been to the police station to report a threatening call from the night before and have returned to her house. Gabe has checked every inch of her house to make sure no one has been there or could get inside. Feeling safe, she checks her email.
Following the laughter, he found her at her desktop computer. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Email.”
He leaned over her shoulder, reading her message.
“Mom has her laptop with her. She sends stories about their stops. Look!” She pointed to a comment. “They’re having such a good time.”
“Be a shame to give them a reason to worry about you.”
“After all the stuff you did to my house, no one could break in here. I’m perfectly safe. So go away.”
She closed her mom’s email.
She didn’t recognize the next address. The subject line read Favorite Teacher.
She laughed again. “Probably a project for computer class. Let’s open the attachment and check it out.”
“No signature, darlin’. Do you recognize the screen name?” Gabe pulled a chair beside hers. Her gardenia scent nearly made his eyes cross with desire. Damn the situation. The damned situation was the reason he was alone with her and so close he could feel her body heat and the reason he’d had a hard-on much of the past two days.
“Do you really think I know all the screen names for my students? I have a hundred and forty students and a homeroom list of thirty. Then there are my past students and the faculty.”
“And they all have your email address?”
“A lot of kids use it to ask about assignments. Some keep in touch during school breaks and some send me photos. A few send me jokes and such. I discourage that because of the volume and time factor. Way too many kids.”
She downloaded the attachment and saved to the desktop. Then she opened it.
Her picture appeared on the screen. She stood in front of her classroom.
Gabe laughed. “An admirer, I see.”
“Probably from the yearbook candids.”
The first photo faded and a second one took its place. It showed Lissie running, concentration in her expression. It was grainy like an enlargement of a telephoto lens shot but still a good action photo. It grabbed his attention.
Seeing the third photo appear, he took the mouse from under her hand. Her gasp made him look at her, then back at the image of her sprawled across her bed, her eyes closed, the cover rumpled. Her gown had settled high on her thighs. One hand held the hem of the gown and the other rested on her breast.
“Pervert!” he growled. His cock loved the photo, but his conscience wanted smash the person who had taken it.
Gabe reached past Lissie to turn on her radio, in case someone was listening to them.
Her voice came out in a whisper. “How did that happen? Gabe, someone broke into my house and watched me sleep. That’s why I felt like someone was watching me.”
He grabbed his cell and dialed Bry’s number. (Bry is a cop.)
Lissie gasped. “Omigod!”
He wrapped an arm around her, waiting for Bry to answer his phone, and watched the next photo materialize on the screen. It showed her car with its slashed tires and Lissie examining them.
“Oh, shit! Come on, Bry, answer.” He pounded the desk. He muttered an obscenity as the voice mail rambled on. “Call me on my cell ASAP,” he muttered into his phone.
It’s a question I’m often asked, especially since my novels cross genres—contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and supernatural romantic suspense.
The answer is simple:
I believe in ghosts. Have I ever seen a ghost? Yes, and no.
I’ve sensed spirits, more than once, in more than one old, abandoned building. When the hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms rise, and there’s no chilly air to explain it, I know I’m in the presence of something supernatural. I’ve caught fleeting glimpses out of the corner of my eye of . . . something. A figure, a shadow, a presence that, when I turn to try and focus on it, evaporates like vapor. More than once I’ve not been alone when this happens, and my companions have had the same experience.
So yes, I do believe in ghosts, or spirits, or whatever your preferred term is. I think there are at least two kinds of hauntings: residual and intelligent. Residual hauntings are shadows of people who lived in a time past (or perhaps in the future). These apparitions are like black-and-white frames from an old movie. They are visible, or can be sensed, but keep playing over and over in an endless loop of whatever they were doing or experiencing when they were alive. You cannot communicate with residual hauntings. Over time, they gradually fade away and eventually disappear.
Intelligent hauntings, however, I believe are spirits who are trapped between this life and the next. They are stuck here, in our conscious realm, for whatever reason: a child or other person dies but does not know they are dead; a person died with some unfinished business here in this realm; they are confused, and don’t know how to “cross over.” Some of these intelligent hauntings can be communicated with, under the right circumstances. Some, angry because they’re trapped in between, can be dangerous (like poltergeists).
“How, since you work in scientific research by day, can you believe in anything paranormal?”
That’s an easy answer as well. There actually is a scientific theory, in quantum physics, of parallel universes. We may well be existing in our own conscious realm alongside those who have passed, who lived long ago, or have yet to be born. In my mind, the quantum theory explains it. Just because we don’t fully understand how it all works doesn’t mean it isn’t the way things are.
“Are your love stories between ghosts? Or between real human beings?”
No, my love stories are between very real, very human, very flawed individuals who all have issues of their own, whether inside or out, they need to resolve. They meet in some location where spirits are trapped. Sometimes they have a hard time believing in the paranormal, but one way or the other, the spirits make believers out of them. And in their quest to free the trapped spirits, they also happen to fall in love.
“Why romance plus the ghost story? Why not just write about hauntings?”
Another easy answer: because I believe in true love, and I believe in a happily-ever-after. I know most people would like to think it can be reality (thus the popularity of the romance genre), but not everyone is lucky enough to find their special soulmate. I married mine over forty years ago and have never looked back.
Also, because these are the kinds of stories I like to read: heart-melting romance laced with the thrills and chill of the supernatural. I couldn’t ever find enough to read, so I started writing my own.
In my newest release, ELECTRICITY, my heroine, Mercedes Donohue, is an electrician who fled her home in Atlanta with her teenage son after a particularly bad divorce. She’s returned to Massachusetts, where she was born and lived up until her teens, when her adoptive parents moved to Atlanta.
My hero, Daniel Gallagher, is also an electrician who works on the same team as Mercy. He has avoided any serious relationships since his fiancé was killed in a car wreck twelve years ago, after stubbornly refusing to take his advice, driving off in a terrible storm. He’s not getting involved with another stubborn, independent woman ever again.
When Mercy joins the team, though, she short-circuits his plans. The electricity between them is simply too strong.
Their first big job together is an old mental asylum, which has its share of secret tunnels and lingering, tortured spirits. Neither Mercy nor Daniel believe in ghosts, so there’s no problem, right?
The spirits of Gravely Hall figure out a way to make them believers.
She’s an electrician starting over with her son. New job. New town. New life.
He’s a coworker who’s interested in more than her ability to run conduit.
The building they’re rewiring was once an insane asylum…but it appears some of the patients never left.
Mercedes Donohue pulled up roots in Atlanta when her marriage imploded. She’s come back to New England, to the place where she was born. Mercy’s focus is to stabilize her teenage son’s life—he took the breakup pretty hard—and to establish her place, gain the respect of Progressive Electrical’s team.
She never expected so many sparks to fly so soon, both on the job and after hours.
Daniel Gallagher has been alone since his fiancé’s death. He’ll never feel that way about any woman again, and certainly won’t try with another independent, strong-willed one. Then Mercy short-circuits his plans.
Although the asylum closed its doors over thirty-five years ago, it seems some of the patients never left . . .
If you like a heart-melting romance laced with healthy dose of supernatural thrills and chills, you’ll love Electricity.
Mercy had gotten to the very last wire when the lightning struck.
At least that’s what it felt like. A burst of blue light momentarily blinded her, and a deafening crack pierced her brain. The force of the jolt blew her backwards and set her ears ringing.
The next few seconds slowed surreally. Dizzy and confused, Mercy, ladder and all, careened away from the wall in silent, slow motion. As if in a dream. No pain, no fear.
Then she landed, flat on her back on the floor, the impact rattling her jaw. Pain shot through her then as the ladder bounced off her chest once, and then settled heavy on top, pinning her to the dust-laden tile.
“DAMN it!” Mercy’s oath blew out with the last of the air in her lungs.
“What the holy hell?” Conner was standing over her in seconds, yanking the ladder off with one hand. The other two men raced over, and Daniel dropped to one knee to hold Mercy down by one shoulder.
“Don’t try to move till you’re sure nothing’s broken,” he muttered.
“I thought you said we were off at the main, Bro! Holy hell!” Jacob was wild-eyed, shoving Conner with one of his gloved hands. “You tryin’ to get us all killed?”
Mercy felt as though a horse had just trotted over her ribcage, squashing one breast under each hoof. The back of her head throbbed even though her safety helmet had protected her from a possible concussion. Her breath was coming in short, shallow bursts. “Let me up, Daniel. I’m okay,” she barked through clenched teeth, wrenching her shoulder from under his grip and sitting up.
She could not, however, feel her left hand. She stared down at the blackened fingers of her glove. Were there still operable digits under the leather? Or just charred stumps?
As though he’d read her mind, Daniel locked a strong hand around her wrist. His eyes flashed to hers once before he said, “I’m going to see what’s going on under here.” Slowly, he pressed on each finger of the glove. “Hurt?” he asked.
Mercy shook her head. “No. They’re numb. Or gone. I can’t feel them at all.”
Daniel sucked in a breath and said, “Not unusual to be numb for a while.” His eyes slid toward hers again, and she hoped he couldn’t see her fear. His gaze was steady, intense. “I’m gonna cut the glove off. Stop me if it hurts, okay?”
Mercy watched, holding her breath as Daniel wielded a pair of snips from his belt and began clipping away at the wristband of her glove. He worked methodically, gently, cradling her hand on his knee the whole time. Once he’d opened the entire back of the glove, he turned her hand over and did the same on the palm side.
He took a deep breath as he slid the cutting tool back into his belt, then raised his eyes to hers. “You ready?”
Mercy swallowed and nodded. Daniel grabbed the edges of the leather and gently worked the covering free.
She let out a whoosh of relief when she looked down on five fingers, only slightly reddened, complete with intact fingernails. They were still numb but began to tingle as she flexed her knuckles.
“Good gloves you got there,” Daniel mumbled. He flashed her a narrow gaze. “Forgot to use your tester first, huh?”
Mercy snatched her hand away, fury flaring in her chest. “I used the damned tester on the main feed, and on the first three fuses, like I always do. How the hell was I supposed to know there was more than one source to the freaking panel?”
***
About Claire Gem
Contemporary, Romantic, Soul-Freeing
Claire is an award winning-author of supernatural suspense, contemporary romance, and women’s fiction. She also writes Author Resource guide books and presents seminars on writing craft and marketing. Her supernatural suspense, Hearts Unloched, won the 2016 New York Book Festival, and was a finalist in the 2017 RONE Awards.
Claire loves exploring the paranormal and holds a certificate in Parapsychology from Duke University’s Rhine Research Center. She earned her MFA in creative writing from Lesley University.
A New York native, Claire now lives in Massachusetts with her husband of 40 years. When she’s not writing, she works for Tufts University in the field of scientific research. She is available for seminars and media interviews and loves to travel for book promotional events.
Woodstock’s 50th Anniversary is this summer, Thursday, August 15 to Sunday, August 18, 2019. Fifty years ago, in 1969 from August 15 to 18, throngs of people came together in Bethel, N.Y. for four days of peace, love, and music. It turned out to be one of the biggest and grooviest rock festivals ever, and an iconic cultural and historical event. The concert was far-out with thirty-two acts including Joan Baez, Santana, the Grateful Dead, Janis Joplin, Sly and the Family Stone, The Who, Jefferson Airplane, Joe Cocker, Jonny Winter, The Band, Blood, Sweat, and Tears, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, and Jimi Hendrix with what was probably the most memorable performance of the festival—his profound rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner”.
Food was in short supply at Woodstock because the promoters only expected about 50,000, but around 400,000 showed up—which also created the largest traffic jam in the history of the Catskills, forcing State police to close the New York State Thruway’s Exit 104. Plus, on the second day of the festival, a downpour transformed the grounds of Max Yasgur’s dairy farm into a sea of mud.
Yasgur’s former farm, the site where all of this took place, has been remembered by the opening of both the Bethel Woods Center for the Arts and the Museum at Bethel Woods on the grounds and was also added to the National Register of Historic Places.
I am a babyboomer but I was only 12 in 1969—too young to hitchhike to Woodstock, unfortunately. However I always wanted to go, so by writing about it, I got to go, at least mentally, and I get to take all you wonderful readers along with me as well as two of my favorite characters, Cash and Keith. This Woodstock, time-travel, baby boomer, comedy romance of mine is called Back To The One I Love.
The thrilling adventure of first love and self-discovery is just as groovy the second time around.
A free-spirited, baby boomer couple, Cash and Keith, find their marriage of forty-five years unraveling amid apathy, boredom, and retirement. Cash feels Keith is no longer attracted to her and he’s consumed with a couch-potato life of streaming The Orville and Game of Throne episodes all day long. Trying to hang on to their marriage and rekindle the romance they lost along the way they turn to a counselor. The therapist uses an unorthodox magical method of a time-traveling Volkswagen van to cast them back into the garden…four days of Eden at Woodstock….the epic music festival… where they first fell in love. Will the freedom of Woodstock lure Keith and Cash to push their individual boundaries and seek new lovers? Or can Déjà Vu and grooving to music….truly lead them to rediscover the peace, love, and harmony they once shared?
Excerpt:
Cash’s mind was in a haze, floating with the music, moving her body freely―bouncing, jiggling, dancing her heart out.
Keith clapped with Cash as Jimi Hendrix picked the strings and worked the frets as he played “The Star Spangled Banner.”
In his hands, the inanimate object, the sleek, white electric Stratocaster, came to life, with jolts of electricity like Frankenstein’s monster.
This was no confused, lonely monster Hendrix created, Cash thought. This is raw, spiritual beauty.
“The notes are ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ mixed with truth and distortion, fear and hope, chaos and order, all fighting each other. It sounds like bombs and guns, screams of pain, and the whirl of army helicopters, all from the strings of his guitar,” Keith said.
“The national anthem has never been played like that before him or since him,” Cash said, with an edge of awe to her voice.
“He’s telling a story of freedom fighting to break through prejudices, lies, and cover-ups just by the way he’s playing the song,” Keith added.
“He’s incredible.” Goosebumps prickled on Cash’s arms when Jimi Hendrix laid the guitar on the stage and picked it as he ritually set it on fire, letting hype and lies go up in smoke and flames.
Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” she said in an emptily charged, broken whisper.
Keith gulped hard. “It blows my mind.” He slapped his palms together, clapping with Cash, a long time after Hendrix left the stage.
“And we saw it twice, together.” She slipped her arm around Keith’s waist.
“How special are we?” He slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight to him.
*~*~*
You can find more on Back To the One I Lovehere and Peace, Love, Music here.
We are made of flesh and blood, but also stories. The stories we hear, read, imagine, are as much a part of us as our make-up as our genes or the colour of our eyes. I wouldn’t be who I am today without the stories that shape me. I’d like to tell you a little about them.
The first stories were the Celtic legends that my Welsh grandparents and my older cousin told me. Tales of magic and monsters. Shape-shifting bards. Torrent spectres. And the mysterious Otherworld, always shimmering just out of reach… at the top of the hill… deep in the forest… at the point on the horizon where sea and sky merge. I loved the Ceffyl Dwr, the Water Horse, a mythical shape-shifting creature that lives in water, but can also appear on land. I loved the merfolk too. More about them later!
I also grew up with the Nordic myths that my father used to read to me as bedtime stories. I’d go to sleep with the sound of epic battles ringing in my ears. Thor was my favourite. I was delighted to meet him again recently in the Avengers films, played by the delicious Chris Hemsworth!
When I was twelve, I read The Lord of the Rings. That story changed me. I was so sad when I finished the book, I actually cried. No more Elves or Dwarves? That couldn’t be. I decided that day that I’d become a writer, and create stories like that.
OK… it took me thirty-three years… and I never wrote that big epic novel. But I did write my own books, and eventually one of them got published. I write fantasy romance, because I love fantasy, and I think I’m a romantic at heart. The stories I heard and read as a child and teenager are still with me. The Otherworld is in my head, with all its magic, and every time I read or write a new book, it gets a little richer, a little better.
My book A Merman’s Choice was published in January by Black Velvet Seductions. It is the hot and tender story of the forbidden love between a shape-shifting merman and a human woman. Read a summary and extract below!
The second book in the series, Music for a Merman, is due out later this year. I’m currently working on the third book, where a feisty shape-shifting mermaid teams up with a warlock to save London from a water monster. I have also written a short story, “The Sweetest Magic of All”, for the supernatural romance anthology Mystic Desire by Black Velvet Seductions – pre-sale 1 September, release date 1 October. I’m so excited about it, because it’s about a witch and a warlock who go back in time, and I love witches!
A Merman’s Choice Book 1 in the Sea of Love series
For centuries the shape-shifting mermen of the Morvann Islands have lived incognito among humans. But one of them, Yann, has developed some bad habits. Like rescuing humans, even when doing so risks revealing his true nature. When he fishes Alex out of the sea, he doesn’t expect her to reappear eight months later, and turn his life upside down by asking him to be her guide.
Alex is determined to fulfil a promise to her dying grandmother, by gathering pictures and stories of the Morvanns. But she soon discovers that, on these remote Welsh islands, legends have a habit of becoming true!
Over the course of a few days, Yann and Alex grow close. But some mermen hate humans. Their hostility, and Yann’s secret, threaten to tear the couple apart just as they are discovering that they are soul mates. Can Yann overcome the obstacles in his path and make the right choice?
Yann went to the dresser against the wall and picked up a bottle and two glasses. “Would you like a dram of whisky to warm you up?”
Alex slid back down the sofa. His ears registered the squeak of leg against leather, and his mind instantly pictured her sprawled on the cushions, her golden hair fanned behind her head, milky thighs open wide. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the maddening image.
Her voice dropped into a seductive purr. “I’m quite warm already, thank you. But I can cope with more heat.”
He poured a glass of the golden liquid and brought it to her.
“Thank you.” She sipped it and made a grimace, which turned into a smile. “Even better than cider.”
Her mouth glowed against her milky skin like a forbidden fruit. He thought of the first summer berries, tart redcurrants, juicy raspberries. Would she taste like them?
They needed food. If he didn’t get lunch down her soon, she’d get drunk. The demon voice in his mind whispered that Alex would be great fun if she lost her inhibitions. He tried to shut the demon out. What could he prepare quickly?
He strode to the trap in the floor by the front door and lifted it. The smell and sound of seawater, sloshing in the dark, rose up.
Alex padded over to investigate. “Oh, wow. You have a whole aquarium down there!”
The corner of her blanket brushed his bare arm, sending another twig to feed the fire that smouldered in his loins. “That’s how Islanders keep their seafood fresh. Why don’t you go and sit at the table, and I’ll open a dozen oysters for you?”
She didn’t need to see the tunnel on the side of the “aquarium,” that led to the lower floor of the house, the level that flooded at high tide and opened onto the sea. The level where a more respectable merman would spend most of his time.
She moved away, to the centre of the room where the oak table stood. Not far enough. He’d become so attuned to her that every one of her movements seemed to ripple across the space and lap against his body. He grabbed a knife and bucket from the tool shelf, snapped the first oyster open and dropped it in the bucket. Now she was crossing her legs, damn her. Did she know that the woollen fabric was opening, uncovering the ivory skin of her inner thigh? Was she flirting with him, or was it his imagination?
“I love oysters.” Her voice wrapped itself around him like a silk scarf. “Pity we don’t have any champagne to go with them, but this whisky is just as good.”
Too late, he remembered that for mainlanders, oysters weren’t a cheap, quick meal. On the mainland, oysters were the food of seduction. An aphrodisiac. What if Alex was misreading his intentions?
Or rather, what if she were reading them all too well?
She patted the bench next to her. “Come and sit here. I can’t eat all these oysters on my own.”
Her grin gave the lie to her words. Her grin said, “I can gobble them all up, and you with it.”
*~*~*
What about you? Which stories shaped your life? Do you remember a favourite story from your childhood? Did a book ever change your life? I’d love to know!
Is free love really free? When I sat down to write about a commune set in the late 60s, I had to figure out what kind of pairing to use. Happily-ever-afters can happen a lot of different ways—with one person, two, or three… Despite what went on in a lot of communes, I decided not to do a sexual free-for-all. It’s hard to build emotional bonding that way. But I did start writing it as a menage. When that didn’t feel right, I went for the traditional male-female pairing. Not an easy feat with such a mesmerizing and sexy hero who wants to recruit more followers at any cost and use sexual bonding to do it. With lots of pretty women and handsome guys around, temptation lay in every corner. Is the emotional bond between Jeremy and Adele strong enough to keep them in their own bed and out of everyone else’s?
Follow Me by Afton Locke 1960s interracial romance
Release Date: 10 August 2019 Preorder it now on Amazon!
Where were you in the summer of ‘69? Picketing, peacemaking, or falling under the spell of a magic man?
The day Adele Robbins turns eighteen, she flees her mother’s house to escape her lewd stepfather. She aspires to help people, but for now she simply needs a roof over her head. When she stumbles over a generous—and sexy as all get-out—hippie playing guitar on the street, she grabs at the chance for a temporary refuge.
While replacing the family he lost to tragedy as a child, Jeremy Dobson also plans to make the world a better place. Recruiting new followers should be easy, but one headstrong woman threatens to upset all his plans.
Unpeeling the layers of this unusual man makes Adele wonder if she’s jumped from the frying pan straight into the fire. She refuses to be a doormat like her mother, but Jeremy’s magnetism is a force not to be trifled with. When he beckons her to the edge to pursue their mission, will she follow?
Until the door closed, Adele didn’t dare move. Instead, Jeremy flung it wide open.
“Get off him,” he bit out.
The barely controlled fury in his voice filled her with a thrill with fear close on its heels. The man should have a high-voltage warning label on his forehead.
“I’m just following your orders, master,” she said sweetly.
After he ripped the sheet from their bodies, exposing their jeans, he frowned but let out a shaky breath.
“You disobeyed me,” he told her.
Adele scrambled off Denny who jumped up and grabbed his shirt. “You recruit your way, and I’ll recruit mine.”
“I-I didn’t touch her,” Denny told Jeremy, his eyes round and wide. “In fact, I’m going to split, okay?”
Jeremy, looking wild-eyed himself, shook his head so hard his long hair danced above his shoulders. “Don’t leave, man. In fact, I told her to pleasure you so you’d stay here.”
“Oh, well…um…I’m going to crash on the sofa.” Denny dropped his gaze as he slunk out the bedroom door and closed it.
Jeremy jammed his hands on his hips. “You disobeyed me,” he repeated.
“I heard you the first time,” Adele said as she put her blouse back on. “I’m not some whore you can pimp out.”
He paced around the bed. “You have a duty to help recruit new members.”
“You should have thought of that before you slept with me.” She headed to the closet to pack. “This place is not my scene. It’s high time I left.”
“And where will you go, Adele?” He rocked on his heels. “Out in the cruel racist world where you’ll be treated like a second-class citizen the rest of your life?”
She paused and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’d still have more dignity out there than being a whore here.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me you had a problem with your assignment?” he asked. “Why lie on top of the guy with your blouse off?”
She shrugged. “The same reason you did it with Mindy, I suppose. How did it feel, Jeremy, seeing me that way?”
He stepped forward until he was so close she could feel his body heat. “I think you’ve forgotten who’s in charge here. Maybe you need to be taught a lesson.”
His words sent a shiver of fear and desire through her. “Don’t you get it?” she whispered. “I can’t be with anyone but you.”
He grabbed her arms and pulled her against him so suddenly she gasped. “I dig it, sweetheart, and your loyalty is wonderful. But you still have to be punished.”
She rolled her eyes, chasing away the tender feeling she’d just had. “What am I, a child?”
“No, but you must trust and follow me one hundred percent.” He held her at arm’s length and gave her a gentle shake. “The journey you’re taking with me won’t always be easy. Your obedience may come down to life and death someday.”
Ice filled her veins. “You’re scaring me.”
“Put your fears in me,” he said as he reached for her waist and unzipped her jeans.
Desire rolled through her so hard, her knees buckled.
I think I’m going to like being punished.
Coming Soon
Look Into My Eyes– in case you missed the Crossroads boxed set
Award-winning author Linda O’Connor started writing romantic comedies when she needed a creative outlet other than subtly rearranging the displays at a local home décor store. Her books have enjoyed bestseller status. When not writing, she’s a physician at an Urgent Care Clinic. She shares her medical knowledge in fast-paced, well-written, sexy romances — with an unexpected twist. Her favourite prescription to write? Laugh every day. Love every minute.
I think I have an entity that hides things from me. No joke! Twice in the past two months I bought allergy/mucus relief meds that got lost in my car. Maybe some entity was telling me not to take them, since I had been taking the meds a lot lately and some folks say they are bad for us. With the first set of meds, my calendar also disappeared. I still like paper calendars, and I depend on mine. Of course, I saw none for 2019 in the Dollar Tree, so I bought a notebook to fill in as a calendar and a calendar for 2020. As luck would have it, new calendars for the school year appeared in stores after I created my own. I didn’t find the lost one after I created one. Nor did the meds show up. Usually, things I replace show up to mock me. Maybe Mercury being in retrograde has something to do with my losses.
