Hey, everyone! I’m so glad to be back on Delilah’s blog today to share my newest release, Thirsty. It’s the first book in my Eastside Brewery series, starring a family of gangster ex-cons who start a craft brewery in their old neighborhood.

Thirsty launched yesterday. Please enjoy this short excerpt and enter the special release week giveaway below.

THIRSTY

A gangster hiding from his past. A single mom fighting for her future. Can she show this bad boy the man he’s meant to be?

My name is Salvador Rosas. Back in the barrio, my past is written on the walls: ESHB. Short for East Side Hollenbeck, my father’s gang—my gang. Hell, it’s a family tradition, one that sent both my brothers away. They used to call me “Ghost” because I haunted people’s dreams. Now I’ve got nothing going for me except a hipster gringo mentoring me in a new career. An ex-con making craft beer? No mames.

Still, people in this neighborhood look out for one another. That’s how I became Vanessa Velasco’s unwelcome tenant. Chiquita pero picosa. She’s little, but with curves so sweet they’re dangerous. I remember Vanessa from the old days, the straight-A student with big plans. Plans that were derailed by another kid stupid enough to think he was bulletproof. Now Vanessa knows better than to believe in empty promises. There’s fire in her . . . and if I touch her, I might get burned.

I’m trying everything I can to go straight. But when East Side Hollenbeck comes calling, I might have to risk it all to find out if there’s a future for Vanessa and me. Because she’s the only one who can quench my thirst for something real.

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“Thirsty held me captivated from its first page to its last with its heartrending, raw and beautiful story…It is a singular reading experience.”—USA Today

“Thirsty is a sizzling, emotionally intense story that is both gritty and heartwarming, an addictive page-turner that will stay with me for a long time to come.”—New York Times bestselling author Cathryn Fox

“Thirsty is sexy and soul-wrenching, with Sal’s irresistible voice luring you through a living, breathing Los Angeles. Vanessa and Sal’s chemistry sizzles right off the page. Five smoldering, tattooed stars!”—USA Today bestselling author Sierra Simone

“Thirsty is an amazing read! I stayed up way too late to finish and haven’t stopped thinking about the characters. Highly recommended!”—USA Today bestselling author Molly O’Keefe

EXCERPT

The ride starts with a burst of music like a jack-in-the-box. We glide backward and over a couple of times. The Ferris wheel stops to let other passengers on. At the very top, our carriage swings back and forth before it goes still.

Now I can see my neighborhood from a different viewpoint, high above. The lights of the carnival are bright and beautiful. The smells of tacos, hot dogs, and popcorn fill my nose. People pack the church parking lot. Cars line the street, and in the surrounding houses, lights in the windows show where families are talking or watching TV or having dinner.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m all right.”

She’s looking at the same things I am. I wonder if she is seeing the same details. I stroke her hair and take another risk. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Starting something with me?”

She takes a deep breath but doesn’t say anything.

“What are your doubts?” I say.

“Are you kidding?” She snorts. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

I laugh a little. “Okay, well. Besides the obvious.”

“You have your own life. I have mine. You’re trying to rebuild from the ground up. I’m trying to secure my daughter’s future. We’re heading in different directions.”

She isn’t wrong. Life has disappointed her in such deep and cruel ways, I don’t blame her for protecting herself. But even as she tells me this—the truth about how we’re not right for each other—I feel how right it is to talk to her, to hold her hand, to show her who I am. “I have an idea,” I say. “Probation.”

“What?”

“I’m only around for two months, right?”

“Right.”

“Spend those two months with me.” I look into her eyes. “I want to be with you, Vanessa.”

“Sal—”

“I’ll be gone before I have a chance to disappoint you.” When the words leave my mouth, I try to ignore how pathetic they sound. “We’re adults, not dumb kids. We won’t lose our heads.” I run my fingers through her silky hair. “I swear to God, every time I look at you, I feel . . .” I reach for the most honest word I can find. “Thirsty.”

ABOUT MIA HOPKINS

Award-winning author Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She’s a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines and wisecracking best friends. She lives in the heart of Los Angeles with her roguish husband and waggish dog.

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SPECIAL THIRSTY RAFFLECOPTER GIVEAWAY

Would you like to win an Amazon gift card? I’m giving away one $20 card and two $5 cards. Enter the Rafflecopter by clicking here.

I hope many of you have bought and are buried in the pages of my second Montana Bounty Hunters story, Dagger. I love this series. I’m hoping you do, too, because I want to write many, many more! I love the takedowns, love the sparring between the main characters. I love the people they work with and meet along the way—like Butler’s mama and Lila from Dagger. I keep thinking about Lila and her firefighter and wonder whether I need to write something to resolve her love life…

Not everything is roses between Dagger and Lacey—and it shouldn’t be or the story would be pretty boring. They have problems from the past to resolve, and they’re both hot-headed as hell. Enjoy the sexy excerpt below. Lacey disobeyed his instructions and put herself in danger, and Dagger doesn’t know whether to spank her or yell at her. Lacey, as always, takes matters, and something of his, in her hands…

Let me know whether you like the idea of more bounty hunters and what you might like to see happen in future stories. ~DD

Excerpt from Dagger

“Thought so. The issue’s just me.” She lifted a finger and pointed it, and then tapped his chest right over his heart. “The problem is you don’t want me as a partner. Well, you can rest assured, I don’t want you either. But now that I know how this job works, I can hire on somewhere else where my skills will be appreciated.”

He snorted. “What skills? The ability to give a bail jumper’s mom a facial? Quick-change artist?”

“I’m damn good talking to people—better than you.” She tapped him again, and his hand snaked out to grab her finger.

In the next breath, he grabbed her waist and pulled her halfway over the console. His mouth slammed against hers.

Lacey tasted blood. She bit his lip and jerked back her head.

His chest rose fast, his nostrils flared.

Without breaking from his gaze, she unclipped her seat belt and climbed over the console to straddle his lap, bumping into the gear shift and the steering wheel. Read the rest of this entry »

I’m an author. I sure hope this doesn’t happen to me!
Without Warning! (Vigilance #2)
Now up for preorder!
Releases March 20!

Leave me a comment for a chance to win a digital copy of Book #1, Hide and Seek.

“The agents of Vigilance return to protect another high-profile target and capture hearts in the process. The stakes are somewhat higher when the history between the bodyguard and client dates back to high school. Clearing the air of past misunderstandings is almost as important as keeping the client safe. This is a fast-paced page-turner that makes for a quick and entertaining read.”– RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars

When you don’t know how the story will end . . .

After years of hard work honing his craft, Blake Edwards is now an international bestselling author. But one thing he never imagined was that his fictional world would become all too real. When a stalker turns Blake’s latest book tour into a treacherous and nearly deadly trap, it’s time for Blake to hire protection. But the body assigned to keep an eye on him is someone he never wants out of his sight . . .
As a bodyguard for Vigilance, the private security agency in Blake’s hometown of Arrowhead Bay, Samantha Quenel has found the perfect outlet for her military experience. But her latest client is also a former high school flame, which might explain her willingness to protect Blake at all costs—even if that means staying in the same room with him, on the same bed, under the same torrid sheets . . .

***check out this picture of where Blake Morgan lives in Tampa, Florida.

Excerpt:

Blake Morgan parked his car behind Slater’s Books and took a minute to gather himself together. Another note had shown up today, this one under his windshield wiper when he retrieved his car in the parking garage at the hotel. No one would have paid any attention to someone leave a note under his windshield. Why would they? He wondered, though, how whoever this was had known the car was his? It was a rental.

Crap.

Three weeks. That’s how long ago this started. In the beginning he’d thought it was a joke. Or maybe even a case of mistaken identity. But after it happened so many times he got the message someone was definitely on his case. And he had no idea who or why? Was it his sudden celebrity? He’d heard war stories about obsessed fans stalking authors, but usually they left love notes.

After slogging in the trenches with his first three books, he’d finally hit the best seller lists with Number Four and Number Five. This one, Deep Cover, had been in the Top Ten for five straight weeks. Apparently someone was determined not to let him enjoy it. Today’s incident was another in a long string that rattled his cage, despite his best efforts to ignore them.

It started with one note, sent to him in the mail. One sentence on a plain sheet of paper, typed on someone’s computer

I know what you did.

He had no idea who it was from. The postmark was Boston, but he was pretty sure none of the people he knew in that city would be sending him a message like this. He had a lot of readers from that area but he never gave out his address to them.

I know what you did.

What he did? What in hell had he done? He couldn’t think of anything so terrible someone would attack him this way.

That note was the beginning. In the past three weeks he found notes left every place for him. When he checked in at one of his hotels they had one waiting for him that had been left there at the front desk for him in an envelope. No, no one could remember who left it. In a restaurant he went to the rest room and when he came back there was a note at his place setting. And of course no one had noticed anyone leaving it. Then came two emails. When he tried to reply to them they bounced back.

This week he twice received a text on his cell phone. On his publisher’s advice he had two cell phone, one for business and one for personal. This came in on the personal one.  How the fuck had anyone gotten that number? But again, when he tried to reply to see who this was came back undeliverable.

They all carried the same message:  I know what you did.

He wasn’t a man easily intimidated but too many incidents in such a short time could sure make a person uneasy. Who the hell was doing this to him and why? Sure, he’d made his share of mistakes in life. Pissed some people off. But he didn’t think anything he’d done was bad enough to provoke this kind of stuff. And he realized someone was going to a lot of trouble to find out his schedule so they could do this.

He picked up the crumpled piece of paper he’d stuck in the console cup holder earlier, smoothed it out and looked at it again. None of the notes were hand written. They were either printed with marking pen or typed on a computer like this one.

I know what you did.

*~*~*

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Dagger releases next week, and wouldn’t you know I’m running up to the last possible moment to get it finished and uploaded into KDP! Wish me luck! I’ll be writing my little fingers off today! Family obligations, which I’ve talked about here, put me way behind my schedule on EVERYTHING, so I’m scrambling, working long hours, and hoping I don’t let anyone down. In the meantime, I thought I’d share the opening “meet-cute” between my hero and heroine in the latest installment of my Montana Bounty Hunters series. Hope you enjoy! And there’s a contest—a bribe to make sure you read to the end! Want to win an Amazon gift card? Be sure to read on… 🙂

Pre-order your copy!

Enjoy the excerpt!

Daniel “Dagger” Renfrew had been a lot of things—an Army Ranger, until he’d mouthed off one too many times to his CO and decided mustering out was better for his long-term aspirations than spending time in Leavenworth; a Seattle beat cop, until he’d gotten bored spending his nights sitting in a squad car in front of corner gas stations; a PI, until he’d informed the wife of the man who’d hired him that hubby was looking for the goods to violate their pre-nup, so she better sue for divorce first; and now, a bounty hunter, which, so far, suited his ADD proclivities. And, in his job, he didn’t look for the easy takedowns. He liked lying in mud or snow with his binoculars trained on a window, hoping for a glimpse of the dirtbag whose mugshot he carried in his hip pocket. If they were badasses—all the better. Dagger preferred when assholes tried to run, because then he’d have an excuse to mix it up, get physical, and blow off steam in an all-out brawl—when the situation warranted, of course.

However, he hadn’t had a job like that in a while. So, in his off-hours, he looked for cheap thrills—sweet-talking easy women out of their clothes or taking repo jobs from the local car dealership.

This morning, he was “reacquiring” a 2014 silver Nissan Altima with a fluffy steering wheel and pom-poms hanging from the rear-view mirror. Read the rest of this entry »

Hi Everybody,

I’m Melanie Jayne, Romance writer, lover of fun, and wonderer. Now I’m not going to try to tell you that when a question enters my brain that I rush to ask Alexa or Google for help, nor do I pour over research books. I tend to be lazy. I usually make a cup of coffee, eat some chocolate, and make up different scenarios in my mind.

In my latest book, A Change of Plan, the heroine, Ramsay Kent, is complex, difficult, and a diva. When I was planning this series I didn’t intend for her to have a book. However, the badass Osi was a hit and he is the type of man who can easily have a woman anytime, but he wants Ramsay.

So I needed to figure out how this driven, successful fashionista was unable to put down roots and commit to a man who cared about her. When writing, sometimes things fall into place easily and because Ramsay never chooses the smooth path, nothing felt right. So I did what I always do when I hit a rough patch in my storytelling, I watch daytime TV, the treasure chest of dysfunction and ideas. My favorites are Divorce Court and Dr. Phil, sometimes it can be the major topic or a simple sentence that helps. On that particular day, Judge Lynn Toler counseled the wife not to let a label she acquired as a teen define her life.

Jackpot!

How many times have I used the term, “Only Child,” to explain my selfishness? Or I have pegged someone as a cheerleader, prom queen, or jock? I remember my mother reminding me to be neat and orderly with my belongings every time I packed for camp, and before I left for my freshman year at college, she worried that I would be a sloppy roommate (I wasn’t). However, to this day, I worry about it whenever I travel and share a room. I don’t want to be the slob.

So as I wrote Ramsay’s story, it became clear that she believed herself to be responsible for a terrible chain of events. She’d never discussed those feelings with a professional and they were allowed to dig in and fester. She wants to atone but worries about people finding out. She’s caught in a vicious cycle of blaming herself, wanting to make up for her sins, worrying that she can never do enough, falling short, and then blaming herself even more.

For 2018, I decided that I would try to work on my bad habits. Make better food choices, focus less on the negativity, set long-term career goals, and then list paths to achieve. I was amazed by the number of times that the words “I can’t” or “this won’t work” popped into my head based upon crap I was told in high school. Have I allowed those opinions to hold me back for thir…, er too many years?

Did my algebra teacher’s summation that I lacked focus and commitment stick with me all of these years? I do have a history of career hopping? Mr. Jewell spent one hour a day with me and somehow he knew me? I rarely spoke in class because I knew that I wasn’t getting the math. Did this virtual stranger shape my life’s decisions?

Today, I wonder how much those labels have shaped my choices? I’m not going to give Mr. Jewell that much power. He was a lousy teacher and I doubt that he was that good at summing up a teen that he barely knew. I attribute my career hopping to my interest in different fields, great opportunities, and life changes. Sure I know a little about a lot of things, but that makes me a fun dinner companion.

For 2018, because of this book and Ramsay’s influence, I added to my list of changes that when a negative thought occurs, I would ask myself three questions:
1. Where did this come from?
2. Why would I think that?
3. Am I doing this to please myself or somebody else?

I like myself, the good and the bad but I ultimately know that I’m good because I’m always working to be better.

A Change of Plan

Chapter One
Osi

“Five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!” The party guests counted down in unison.

I already had one arm draped around Ramsay’s slender waist. She allowed me to roll her into my body so that we were touching from chest to pelvis as I kissed her long and hard. “Better than last year’s.” I grinned.

She pulled away from me and gave me a haughty look, raising one eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I didn’t loosen my hold. God, she’d lost weight working so hard on, first, Tye and Billie’s wedding, then Cress and Brian’s, and finally this annual extravaganza. I could feel the knobby bones along her spine. “Last year, I had to track you down for my kiss. This year, you’re by my side.” Where you belong, I added silently. Ramsay Kent was an elusive woman. Although we’d been involved to some degree for over a year, we’d yet to make our relationship official. But I’m a patient man. One of the reasons I’m good at what I do. With Ramsay, I could settle in and wait a while longer.

“Well, I suppose kissing you is better than making out with some random guy.” She turned her head to look around at the other party guests, her green eyes narrowing as though to assess their kissability.

I gave her a hot glare. “Not going to work, Ramses.”

“What?” She drew her eyebrows together in confusion, as if she didn’t know what she was doing.

“You aren’t going to push me away or make me mad. Not tonight,” I said, resolution ringing in my words.

A hint of something like panic entered her gaze. “I’m working… I don’t know what time I’ll get out of here tonight, er, this morning.”

I shrugged, pretending I didn’t see her fear. “It’s not a problem. You know I like to watch you work.”

One side of her mouth hitched upward in consternation. I could almost see her plotting a way to make me go. Before she could blurt out something I didn’t want to hear, I bent toward her. “If I get bored, I’ll head back to my place and send a car to bring you home.” Of course, I wouldn’t get bored. I got off on watching her run the show. Ramsay in command was a thing of beauty. She could multi-task as well as any military strategist—make that better. Handling the rest of this party would be a breeze for her, just like breaking down and reassembling my rifle was second nature to me.

A faint line appeared between her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

I placed a light kiss on her vibrant red lips, not caring if I now wore the same color. “Go make someone miserable.”

“Asshole.” She snorted as she fought a smile.

“Shouldn’t they be putting out the food?” I asked innocently.

“Shit,” she hissed and spun around on her three-inch heels. “I’m seriously considering cutting the gratuity Tye left for them.” She took off in the direction of the kitchen. Perhaps it was the way her long legs ate up the ground or the red tint to her hair, the guests moved out of her way.

I was admiring the sway of her ass encased in some kind of silky material that was as sleek as her naked body, when I heard my name being called.

About the Author

Melanie Jayne has the best life. She spends her days chatting with feisty females, waking up to sexy men, eating chocolate and wearing pajamas. In March of 2015, she published her first book and never looked back. She currently has four series and will be adding to that number in 2019. Her books predominantly feature characters over the age of thirty-five, facing life head on. They are woman positive and advocate empowerment. She writes about the world that she lives in and collects many of her ideas from her friend’s lives and daytime TV.

She lives a quiet life on a grain farm in central Indiana with her very patient husband and their two mastiffs, Ginger and Duncan Keith. She has been employed in retail management, managed a federal courtroom, worked behind the scenes in a casino and closed home loans. By her own admission she was an inquisitive mind and gets bored easily.

She is an active member of the IRWA Chapter, an avid Reader/Author Conference Attendee, and avid Romance Reader. She is so grateful to the many authors and bloggers who have so generously supported her career and she in turn is giving back to new and aspiring writers.

Learn more about Melanie Jayne: www.ReadMelanieJayne.com, @1MelanieJayne, https://www.facebook.com/ReadMelanieJayne/.

Last fall, with only a few months left on my deadline for Cold and Hottie, my second-chance romance set in Jamaica, my characters stopped cooperating. They were still doing interesting things but I had no freaking idea why, because they wouldn’t talk to me.

That was a big problem. As a writing friend says, romance readers are all about the feels. If you fail to give them an emotional journey you can count on receiving hostile reviews.

Fortunately, I had been down this route before and had a solution: I would write upcoming scenes in first-person, replacing “she said” with “I said,” for instance, so as to get deeper in my characters’ heads. Then I’d take what I learned and convert it back to third-person, making it match the 30,000 already written words.

At first it looked like the plan would work. The story was progressing in delightful ways and I suddenly had characters emoting all over the place. Then I discovered two giant flies in the suntan lotion.

First, I couldn’t figure out a way to keep all the lovely emotionality during the conversion.

Second, my hero and heroine had started speaking in present tense. (i.e. “When the knock comes at the door” rather than “when the knock came at the door.”) Now, while I will read virtually anything in any point of view or tense, provided it’s a good story, I’m aware some readers have much stronger preferences. In fact, some downright hate books written in first-person present-tense, so why would I cooperate in earning their wrath?

I doubled-down on my shoe-horning efforts.

And I got precisely nowhere.

This was when I reached out to a cadre of savvy writing friends. To a person, their advice was to go where the story was leading, no matter how odd I might seem to the marketplace.

But was a first-person romance really that weird? I was starting to wonder if my fears matched reality.

To gain objectivity I went to Amazon, which is undisputedly the biggest site for romance sales in North America. I pulled up their bestseller lists and…I learned that I had underestimated romance readers’ flexibility. Books written in first-person were far from being the exception, as I believed, but were close to forming the majority of books in the Top Twenty lists. Even better, readers were embracing present-tense.

Thus freed up, I put my efforts into finishing the back end of the book, rewrote the front end, and managed to make my deadline. And while I’m not sure I’ll deliberately choose to go this route again on purpose, I won’t be nearly as afraid to do it, if required.

Did it work? Preliminary feedback would say it has, but I’ve included an excerpt from the first chapter below, so you can decide for yourself. And in the comment section, I hope you’ll let me know your feelings about first-person present-tense stories. Are they alien to you, a deal-breaker, or intriguing new ground?

Cold and Hottie

She’s being sent to Jamaica for a team-building exercise. It will be led by a crazed psychologist, and the man she done wrong…who is now her boss. Oops.

A decade ago, in a messy breakup with the only man she has ever loved, Olivia Prosser behaved badly. Since, she has lived with the consequences.

Then bad news comes in rapid succession: the company she works for has been purchased; her ex, Finn, is her new employer; and she’ll be reconnecting with him during a mandatory retreat in Jamaica. Five days filled with forced emotional intimacy and corporate-speak, not to mention memories better left in the past.

A white knight’s armor will rust in salt water.

For years, Finn Wakefield has known who to blame for his breakup with Liv. Then new information comes to light. Liv might be innocent, and the party who framed her might be lodged within Finn’s company, continuing their acts of sabotage.

But Liv shows no interest in righting the wrongs of the past. Is that for ominous reasons or because she is over Finn? Either way, for the sake of his company, Finn must push for the truth – even if the cost is a twice-broken heart.

Cold and Hottie was previously published as part of the Tropical Tryst box set, which became a #1 international bestselling ebook anthology (Aug. 1/17). See why readers call it “…a delicious page-turner set in an exotic setting.

Excerpt:

At 4:37 p.m. on Friday, after weeks of dread and just when I’ve convinced myself I’ve been spared, a dossier bearing the title Jamaica lands on my desk. Tucker had probably been aiming for my in-basket, but since he’s standing in my doorway and the basket is overflowing, the folder tips over the edge and continues its horizontal motion. It comes to rest on the refinery drawings I’ve been marking up, the right lower edge touching a pump that needs modernization.

When I find my voice I say, “You’re kidding me.”

Tucker’s smile is his signature blend of cynicism and amusement. “If you pull yourself together and need to talk, I’ll be in my office for another five minutes.” He pivots on a well-shod foot and vanishes from sight.

I turn the pencil in my hand and use the eraser to tease out the top sheaf of paper, willing this to be one of his practical jokes. Easy enough to put a label on a folder and pack it with documents destined for the shredder. Then to stand in the hall just out of sight, ready to pop in with a, Haha, Liv, got you good this time.

Alas, this evening brings no such luck. For there in black and white, issued in the name of one Olivia Prosser, is an e-ticket for this coming Monday morning. I’m flying from Columbus to Kingston, via Atlanta.

I use the pencil to extract the next sheaf. Apparently the resort and I have corresponded, most recently when I confirmed an ocean-facing, non-smoking room with a king-sized bed.

At least I was smart enough to avoid having a roommate.

I close my eyes and bend forward to clunk my head repeatedly on my desk. Having seen fellow staffers open their envelopes, I don’t need to examine the rest of the paperwork to know what it contains. There will be a shiny brochure on the all-inclusive resort’s amenities. (Seven pools! Six restaurants featuring international cuisine! Unlimited soft drinks and booze in your room’s mini-fridge!) There will be a listing of optional paid activities, both inside the resort and on the island. Finally, there will be the handout delineating the source of my dry mouth and blossoming headache.

I don’t need to look at the handout but…I stop banging my head and do it anyway, because some masochistic impulses can’t be resisted.

Three months ago, the company I work for, HMZ Consulting, was purchased by Wakefield Enterprises. When I say “purchased,” I really mean “swallowed whole.” We were the krill to Wakefield’s blue whale. Now the time has come for us to “harmonize our corporate cultures.” Accordingly, for the past several months, select employees within my office have been receiving invitations to the upcoming retreat in Jamaica. Once trained in the ways of the mothership, they—and I guess that includes me now—will return as ambassadors to the home office, where we will spread the ways of enlightenment.

Most of the five-day retreat will be run by Wakefield’s second-in-command, Yolanda Perez. The brochure photo shows a woman in her early forties with tight black braids and a confident smile. She’s a psychologist, reportedly half-crazy in her own right, and the rumors about her outdoor group exercises are downright intimidating.

Then there’s the CEO, Finnegan Wakefield. I don’t know if his photo has been retouched, but thirty-four looks good on him. Even better than twenty-four did, if that’s possible.

Finn is giving the Tuesday noon keynote—one hour is his full commitment for the entire program. Depending upon how he receives me, that one hour could be all it takes to upend my life.

Sales links:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble |  Kobo | iBooks

Author bio and contact links:

A former family physician and academic, Jan O’Hara left the world of medicine behind to follow her dream of becoming a writer. These days she confines her healing tendencies to paper—after making her characters undergo a period of delicious torture, naturally.

Jan lives in Alberta, Canada and is a columnist for the popular blog Writer Unboxed.

Join Jan’s mailing list for updates on her forthcoming books, exclusive content, and access to reader giveaways: http://janohara.net/newsletter
Website:  www.janohara.net
Facebook: https://facebook.com/janoharabooks
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/JanOHara

Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Jan-OHara/e/B01M1C7HUT/
Email: jan@janohara.net

This was new for me as a writer. The first thing I realized as Book One developed was that I needed a map. I started out with a couple of countries in the story, but that quickly grew, and the map kept me straight on where I was—literally.

Now, I publish it in the front of each book, because readers say it has been very helpful. My daughter has drawn it for me, and it grows, depending on where I get in the next book.

The next thing I worked on was a list of names. Many people have noted the names in my books are unique, in that they often reflect the character’s occupation. That has been fun, but it’s still hard to keep track of all these people in a whole new world.

The third thing is a compendium of new words. Again, I began to develop a list, just to keep the words and definitions straight to ensure I use them the same way each time. All of this information is in my Last War bible. Each new book adds characters, towns and villages, devolving use of languages. It’s been a lot of fun.

Prince of Jiran

A Penrhy prince caught between duty and desire. Can he win the impending battle?

Shandro, Prince of the Penrhy tribe of Jiran, disagrees with his father, Sovereign Pollack, on nearly every issue that arises between them. But his goal is to uphold the family values in spite of Pollack’s conniving moves as he deals with the hotbed of competing nations surrounding them.

Then Shandro is sent on a mission across the mountains into Khandarken to bring back Princess Chinata, a bride for Emperor Carlton’s Advisor. In exchange, Jiran and the Penrhy tribe are given a peace agreement, protection against invasion by the Emperor’s troops. This seems a good trade, as Carlton is hovering on their borders with his need for more land. However, not far into the journey, it becomes apparent someone is not adhering to the terms of the peace accord.

Near the tribal border, Shandro and his troops have come under direct attack from unknown forces. He digs deeper into Chinata’s background to find strong ties to the New Empire. Is it too dangerous to bring Princess Chinata into Jiran? Or as her escort, does Shandro become her defender against the Emperor’s troops?

Get your copy here!

When I wrote the first book of The Last War series, I expected there would be two or three books. Here we are at Book Five, and Six is just hovering at the back of my brain! It has been a lot of fun to write this fifth book. It dives into the culture of Jiran, a loose collection of tribal families that travel the plains across the mountains to the west of Khandarken. These people don’t have good relations with the other countries around them. They stayed out of the Last War, keeping to the sidelines and refusing to take part in the struggle between Emperor Aqatain and the rebel forces that finally defeated him. Thus, the Prince of Jiran is stuck with trying to mend relations at a time he is suffering an assault of his own and needs support. And of course Princess Chinata has caught his eye, and that complicates an already complicated situation!

Read an excerpt!

It had begun to snow again and the flakes were coming thicker, a steady silent fall that muffled sound and blinded them as they rode. The air was icy against China’s skin. Soon the wind picked up and it looked like another blizzard setting in. She watched Prince Shandro ride ahead to consult with his commander, then rein in and wait for Haggskyll and Boz to catch up. She studied him as he talked with the men, first gesturing toward the women and then ahead to the trail leading through the trees.

He was a handsome man in a very physical way with his broad muscled shoulders, lean frame and golden-brown skin. The attraction to him only got stronger as the days passed. What would she do when they arrived at their destination? How to concentrate on being bride of the ancient Judson Lanser when this virile young man had guarded her through the mountains, and looked at her with such focused attention her breath caught in her throat?

There was a muffled shout up ahead, then a sharp bang. The men halted immediately, all attention focused on the trail before them. More loud roars, and the guards were galvanized into action.

Everyone rushed to pull weapons from their harnesses or behind their saddles, and crowd in around the women as others galloped forward into the blinding snow. Shandro moved quickly, riding in her direction and waving at his men.

“Go back,” he yelled. “We don’t know what’s ahead.”

The men were milling in a circle now, trying to herd the women back the way they’d come. Horses neighed and reared in the confusion. China grabbed her reins in one hand and the saddle horn in the other as her mount sidestepped swiftly and plunged into the mount beside her.

Suddenly new riders appeared on both sides of the churning group. They materialized out of the trees, riding low in the saddle, weapons in hand.

Mass confusion ensued. One of the guards grabbed her bridle, dragging China’s horse around to go back down the trail the way they’d come, and she clung desperately to the horn as she swayed in the saddle. There were more sharp sounds, what must be the firing of weapons although it seemed muffled by the falling snow, and in the milling of bodies she couldn’t see where they were.

Then something hit her, knocking her sideways in the saddle. She reached for the horn but her hand didn’t work. The pain arrived in an overwhelming wave and she cried out low, unheard in the rush around her. Looking down, she saw blood bloom on her cloak and ripple in a slow wave down her arm.

She was falling and someone was bellowing in surprise or rage, a wild cry that followed her down.

About the Author

Sylvie Grayson loves to write about suspense, romance and murder and has published contemporary romantic suspense novels, all about strong women who meet with dangerous odds, stories of tension and attraction. She has also written The Last War series, a sci fi/fantasy adventure, the fifth book, Prince of Jiran, newly released.

She has lived most of her life in British Columbia, Canada, in spots ranging from Vancouver Island on the west coast to the North Peace River country and the Kootenays in the beautiful interior. She lived for a year in Japan. She has been an English language instructor, a nightclub manager, an auto shop bookkeeper and a lawyer. She lives in southern British Columbia with her husband on a small piece of land near the Pacific Ocean.

Sylvie loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at sylviegraysonauthor@gmail.com, on her website at www.sylviegrayson.com or on Facebook.