I want to start by thanking Delilah for letting me come play in her space here again.  Visiting here is always a blast.  I had plans for a different subject for today’s guest blog, but in the last two weeks real life has kicked my butt in more ways than one.  So I opted to do something different instead, something a little less serious than what I started with—some of my favorite romance novel hero types.

We all love our romance novel heroes.  For some of us, they’re the main reason we pick up a book.  Even if you don’t shop by the cover of the book (which I don’t), the story blurb gives you a taste of the hero that makes you think, ‘Hm, that sounds like a guy I want to fall in love with.’  And if you shop by the cover art, well, mostly naked men on book covers…very visually appealing when you’re browsing shelves, no?

I love a great, tortured hero when I’m reading, but they’re sometimes really draining to write, depending on just how dark their stories are.  I also love a hot Alpha hero, but some of them veer into asshole territory, and it’s a fine line to walk.  When I’m reading, I also enjoy a hero who has a sense of humor, but humor is really subjective, so it can be as much of a challenge to write as a tortured Alpha hero, plus a guy who’s a clown might be too shallow to fall in love with.  Maybe a dangerous hero, one who would kiss you stupid, right before he kills you?  Done right, I’ve read some really amazing stories with very dangerous heroes.  Then there is the guy next door—but they can be a little boring if they’re too realistic.

So what is a romance writer supposed to do?

Some of my favorite books don’t rely on just one of those qualities to build heroes I’ve fallen in love with, and probably you, too, yes?  There is a Viking series I’ve been enjoying for years with the hottest heroes, many of them Alphas for sure, and they are the funniest books I’ve ever read.  One of my favorite authors (I aspire to someday pull off romantic suspense half as good as hers) has done some heroes who are really anti-heroes—assassins, who falls in love with assassins, I ask you?—purely Alpha and some of them really tortured to boot, and they would do anything to keep their heroines protected.  How do you not fall in love with a man like that, no matter what his profession?

So, tell me what kind of romance novel heroes do you like best?  Strong and silent?  Tortured but sweet?  Deadly?  Everybody who shares by 5 p.m. ET on Fri, Feb. 3, 2017 will have their name entered in a giveaway (via RandomResult.com) for an ebook copy of Hunting Medusa.

Hunting Medusa, The Medusa Trilogy, Book 1

One murderous mission.  One killer case of PMS.  Who said “the curse” was a myth?

When Kallan Tassos tracks down the current Medusa, he expects to find a monster.  Instead he finds a wary, beautiful woman, shielded by a complicated web of spells that foils his plans for a quick kill and retrieval of her protective amulet.

Andrea Rosakis expects the handsome Harvester to go for the kill.  Instead, his attempt to take the amulet imprinted on her skin without harming her takes her completely by surprise.  And ends with the two of them in a magical bind–together.  But Kallan isn’t the only Harvester on Andi’s trail…

__________

Excerpt: 

Kallan wiped his sweaty hand down his jeans, hoping the shriek of the Medusa’s alarm shutting off hadn’t wakened her. He didn’t want her prepared for an attack. He’d prefer to kill her quickly and get the hell out. He could be back in Baltimore by supper tomorrow with the amulet in hand for Uncle Ari to destroy, ending the protective spell for the rest of the Medusa’s descendants.

He touched the doorknob, felt the locks disengage beneath his hand, then turned the handle and swung the door wide.

Silence greeted him, and he took that as a good sign. No creaking came from upstairs, as there would be if she’d wakened. Good. Nevertheless, he stepped inside cautiously, listening hard. He took another step after a few heartbeats, trying to remember just where the kitchen table and chairs stood from his limited view the day before.

He made it past the furniture and paused to listen again. Still nothing. He frowned. With the power off, the house was too quiet. Surely the sudden and complete silence would wake her, even if she hadn’t heard the brief noise of the alarm shutting down. He slid one foot forward on the smooth wooden floor, and suddenly she was there. Fiery pain shot up his left arm. He grunted, realized she’d stabbed him deeply. He swung his other hand up, managing to hit her on the side of the head.

She cried out but didn’t go down, swinging her blade again. He caught her wrist, but she managed to get another slice to his already-injured forearm before he yanked her arm behind her.

Her booted foot connected with his knee—hard—and he bit back a string of curses at the pain, but didn’t let her go. Why wasn’t she barefoot? If she’d been sleeping, she should be barefoot. His left arm was nearly useless, blood pumping steadily from his wounds, so he crowded her up against the nearest surface. The refrigerator. He shoved hard, hearing her moan when he twisted her arm a little more.

Her blade hit the floor between them. She kicked backward again, and her foot hit his knee from the other side this time.

“Dammit,” he muttered, flattening her between his body and the appliance’s cool metal surface. His arm burned, warm blood dripping from his fingers.

“Get off me, you murdering bastard,” she said, her words slurred slightly from her face being mashed into the refrigerator.

“Well now, that’s not very nice. Especially since I’ve never murdered anyone. Yet,” he added darkly, tightening his grip on her wrist. The bones in her arm were fragile and he was fully aware he could crush them, render her arm as useless as she had his. But he didn’t. He wasn’t Stavros.

“You’re not going to start with me, either, Harvester.”

Mouthy. He grinned at the back of her head. Even trapped and defenseless as she was now, she didn’t stop fighting, even verbally. He had to work to keep from laughing as she continued to threaten him. No one had warned him the Medusa would be talkative. Or soft, he realized when her bottom shifted back into his groin. He concentrated on breathing evenly when his nerve endings all came to life. He’d never imagined he might be aroused by the Medusa.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked suddenly.

Kallan realized he wasn’t moving—or most of him wasn’t. He shut his eyes for a second, clenching his jaw. Her ass now cushioned his throbbing erection.

“Hey!” She shrank closer to the fridge, making a soft sound when the move forced her arm higher behind her.

He shifted, easing her wrist a little lower. This wasn’t going at all as he’d imagined it. “Stop moving.” He forced himself to unclench his jaw.

“If you think I’m going to make it easy for you to kill me, Harvester, you have another thing coming.” She didn’t stop wriggling.

Growling, he flattened her completely between his body and the refrigerator again.

She froze, and he could feel her pulse beating crazily in the wrist he still held. Fear? He imagined that was one cause. Anger too, probably.

He doubted she was having the same unexpected reaction to him that he was to her.

Not that it was a bad thing that she wasn’t suddenly aroused, too.

He just needed to stop thinking about it.

Concentrate on the task at hand.

Kill the Medusa.

Feel how soft her ass was against him. If he shifted his hips just a little—

No. He growled again, and she shifted, just as he’d imagined so her softness cradled him even more.

“Get off, Harvester,” she whispered.

“Stop calling me that.” He hated hearing it from her lips for some reason. Yes, it was what his name meant. It was what he was destined to do. But the contempt in her tone… He didn’t like it at all.

As though the Medusa had room to be contemptuous of him.

“It’s your name.” Her voice was stronger now, as if she’d somehow sensed his unexpected inner struggle. “Why shouldn’t I use it?”

“You won’t be alive long enough to worry about it.” He ignored her behind against his groin for the moment and took a slow breath, trying to remember his plan.

Get in, find her, kill her, get the amulet, and get out.

Well, his plan was not going very well at all.

He didn’t want to be the first Harvester in so many generations to finally find the Medusa and then fail at his job.

__________

Buy: Samhain:   http://www.samhainpublishing.com/book/4883/hunting medusa

About the Author

Elizabeth Andrews has been a book lover since she was able to read.  Almost as long as she’s been enjoying great books, she’s been attempting to write her own.  When she found her mother’s romance stash as a teenager, it was a natural progression to write romances.  Along with her enormous book stash, she lives with her husband of twenty years, two young adult sons, and belongs to two cats.  When she’s not buried in her personal library, writing, or at the day-job, there’s a garden outside with flowers, herbs and vegetables that requires occasional attention.

www.ElizabethAndrewsWrites.com

I like the idea of having magical powers of some sort. If I could choose, I think I’d like to be able to fly…and be able to blast power out of my hands…you know, point at something and kaboom! Obliterated.

Each of my Huntresses have their own special powers that are ignited by the bite of their wolves or mark of their Hunters (and sometimes both). They are all in various stages of combat fighting and weapons training depending on what side they are fighting on as well as how indoctrinated into the world of the beasts they are. I thought I’d share with you the roster of Huntresses from the pack that you’ll meet in my newest release, Beast Rising,  and all the amazing things they can do.

Darcy Wells (Cursed): She’s gifted with spell casting and she’s probably the most powerful and most under trained of all of the Huntresses. Sometimes her power is so out of control that her hands glow with an iridescent light…not too helpful when it comes to battle but her strike definitely packs a punch…especially if one of her pack is threatened.

Memorable quote: “It’s not breaking the rules if no one finds out about it.”

Aubrey Devlin (Wolf Slayer): Is a healer. Her touch alone is able to pull the wolves out of near death experiences and keep herself from bleeding out when she’s on the hunt for the feral beasts. She’s a tough fighter and a no-nonsense kind of girl but she’s got a big heart and loyalty that never falters.

Memorable quote: “Huntresses hunt, whether you like it or not, got it, big boy?”

Summer Sinclair (Spell Weaver): Her power is to etch magical symbols onto things. With this ability she has been able to not only protect the boundaries of the wolves’ territory but she has also been known to use them to heal and sometimes locate things that are lost…including her mate. She’s a tattoo artist by trade and a fierce fighter for everything she loves, even when it’s a stubborn werewolf.

Memorable quote: “If you want it badly enough, your powers will work just as you need them to. Trust your instinct, it’ll never steer you wrong.”

Hannah Lane (Mayhem): Is an empath and is able to amplify emotions, using them to amp up or tone down all sorts of passions. She uses her powers to unite the pack as well as to keep the wolves tempers under control. She sweet but tough and a redhead so you definitely don’t want to piss her off.

Memorable quote: “Grounded? That kiss has me flying.”

You’ll meet all of these Huntresses and more in Beast Rising and get to know their strengths, weaknesses, fears and goals. No matter where they are in the training, all of my Huntresses are brave, loyal, and can totally kick some serious ass.

Angela Addams
Website: http://www.angelaaddams.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author.Angela.Addams/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AngelaAddams
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4801196.Angela_Addams
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Angela-Addams/e/B005JOTBPM/
Samhain: https://www.samhainpublishing.com/book/5850/beast-rising
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/no/book/beast-rising/id1183596013?mt=11
Kobo: https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/books/beast-rising/9781619236370-item.html
B&N:http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beast-rising-angela-addams/1125294362?ean=9781619236370

We get to have fun as writers, creating other worlds and fantastical beings. My new release, Gideon: Heavenly Fall, has been pure joy to write.

Most people know me as a Navy SEAL writer. And I still love those boys, and probably will write them until the cows come home. But I also love paranormal, for the sheer fun of writing about special powers and unearthly situations and body parts.

I have a secondary character in Gideon, who is an inventor. He makes robots, or “bots” as we call them in the book. Pleasure bots, animal bots, and an army of doll warrior bots. I wanted to write him because I have a futuristic book I’m working on that would also have a bot factory.

Here’s a little excerpt from Gideon as the three main characters arrive to meet the clockmaker for the first time:

“This guy have a sense of humor?” Gideon frowned at his Guardian friend.

            “I doubt it. He’s not that way.”

            “So what’s with the ‘Out Of Time’ sign?”

            “I’ve never thought about that. I’ll ask him.” Francis opened his door. “I think I’ll approach with your Guardian, while you wait in the truck, if you don’t mind.”

            “As if I have a choice.”

            “Your funeral. We have to handle this guy with kid gloves.” Frances squinted and then peered up to the windows above the shop. “He’s kinda weird. Hard to think what goes on in that mind of his. I’m guessing he has a lot of moving parts that look something like this.” Francis pointed to a flock of mechanical birds flying inside the window in loose formation.

            “Are those real?” Persephone noticed a cloud of small buzzing insects hovering over the archway of the front door on the outside of the building.

            “Yup. Real bots.” Francis grinned at Gideon, rain soaking his right shoulder and running down his front. “They’re as real as the real ones, just made up of different material, that’s all. The guy’s a genius.”

*~*~*

I hope you will stop by and give Gideon some love. We’re working on the audio book starting next week. Join me as I explore some of my Far Side.

WWW.sharonhamiltonauthor.com

UPDATE: The winner of the free download of Bad Moon Rising is…Kim Smith!

* * * * *

This one came out a little over a year ago. Love panther-shifters? Love a sexy Cajun drawl? Enjoy the excerpt!

Comment for a chance to win a free download of Bad Moon Rising!

Bad Moon Rising

On a whim, romance author DiDi Devereaux decides to travel to remote Louisiana bayou country to take possession of a house she inherited from a reclusive relative. But before she reaches her destination, she drives her car into a ditch to avoid a large animal that leaps into her path. Rescue comes in the form of a sexy sheriff, whose gruff demeanor seems to hide a feral attraction. As DiDi settles into her new home she finds herself torn between her attraction to the sheriff and the raw, handsome bad boy whose offer to help her renovate her home is a little too convenient and tempting.

Nothing in Bayou Noir is what it seems. When strange things begin to happen, her natural curiosity leads her into danger…

Get your copy here!

Read an excerpt…

DiDi hit SAVE and shut down her computer. Her newest story was beginning to pull together—or at least, the characters were coming alive. The external plot of her novel hadn’t yet gelled, because she hadn’t discovered what secrets the sheriff and the bad boy hid.

But the characters were now fully fleshed—the two men appealing to her heroine in ways DiDi understood all too well. The question she still struggled with was which man her heroine would ultimately choose. The thought made her smile.

DiDi closed the computer lid. Of course, Sheriff Breaux and Bobby Sonnier were the models for her two heroes. All the while she’d described her heroine’s first meeting with the men, she’d described her own feelings, and how her curiosity and body had both been aroused. Which man did she, DiDi, prefer? Funny, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought a man so disturbingly attractive. But in this remote location, within a single hour, she’d met two.

She stretched her arms above her head and glanced at her watch—two o’clock AM. Since she was a night owl by habit, she didn’t worry. However, the room was warm. The AC chugged along, but didn’t seem to cool very well. Upon returning to the room, she’d changed to cutoffs and a tank top, but the fabric stuck to her skin. Maybe drinking something ice-cold would cool her enough to rest comfortably. She slipped the pass key into her back pocket, tucked a couple of dollar bills into the front one, and let herself out of her room.

Outside, she breathed in the thick, humid air. The night was quiet except for the distant, blended hum of insects and frogs. Maybe it was the cloying heat, but she felt restless and aroused. Her thoughts swirled with the erotic fantasies she’d been spinning into a story.

A woman caught between two men.

On the outside, one wore a white hat, the other dressed like he’d just dragged himself out of bed. But inside, both souls were painted with the same darkness.

The soda machine stood next to the office, so she walked barefoot along the sidewalk, slid her money into the slot, and hit the button for a Coke. The machine shuddered, but nothing dropped into the well at the bottom.

“Damn.” She hit the button again. Nothing. Cursing, she bent and stuck her arm up into the opening, found the bottom of her can lodged at an odd angle, and rattled it until it dropped into her hand.

When she straightened, she held the can away and opened the tab, letting it spray outward.

The can was icy cold, and she drank down several gulps before turning back to her room.

DiDi drew up short. A car had parked in front of her room. A sleek Caprice with the township’s emblem and blue lights on the top. Sheriff Breaux stood with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her.

Had he seen her wrestle with the coke, her butt in the air? Would she ever catch a break with the guy?

DiDi made herself straighten her shoulders and sauntered toward the large man. Did he always wear that expression—so dark and intense, so watchful? She caught the way his narrowed glance scanned her bare legs and feet, and she shivered.

She’d take his frown over a smile from another man any day—the gesture did things to her. Challenged her. Made her tingle in all the right places. “Evenin’, Sheriff,” she drawled, walking closer.

“Miz Devereaux,” he said, nodding.

“DiDi,” she replied, curving her lips. “I thought we were getting friendly.”

His expression didn’t soften. “It’s late. Doesn’t a city girl like you know it’s not safe to be alone outside after dark?”

“Tell me,” she said softly, teasingly as she leaned against her room’s door. “This is a small town. What should I fear? And is the danger sporting four legs or two?”

His features stilled. He stepped closer and looked down his nose.

A move like he was trying to intimidate. She didn’t know why, but his stance aroused her.

“Bayou Noir is a quiet town,” he said, his voice dead even, “but you’re a beautiful woman. More temptation than man or beast might be able to resist.”

DiDi blinked, all bluster gone. Heat soaked the crotch of her panties. He thinks I’m hard to resist? “Looks like I don’t have a thing to fear with you here, Sheriff.”

His lips crimped in irritation, and he shook his head. “Told you before, Mason,” he bit out. “Seein’ as how we’re friendly now.”

Two could play this game of chicken. She stepped close enough she could smell him. “What if I like sheriff? I like a man being in charge.”

His nostrils flared. His eyelids fell. “Careful, chère…”

“Am I really that hard to resist?” DiDi lifted her chin.

He didn’t answer, but his gaze fell to her mouth.

DiDi knew she’d roll her eyes if a character in her book licked her lips at a time like this, but she couldn’t resist the tease. She stroked her bottom lip, wetting it and watching Mason’s eyes narrow further, homing in on the simple little motion.

“You like playin’ with fire?” he muttered, his voice guttural.

“I’m not playin’.”

His eyes were shadowed, a touch sinister and frightening.

She couldn’t have said why, but she wanted to rattle him. Answer his challenge with one of her own. DiDi leaned into Mason, pressing the hand not holding the soda against his chest and rising on her toes. When her mouth approached, she saw his lips part.

But he held still, watching her with that dark, steady gaze.

She placed her lips against his and rubbed, and then did it again when he still didn’t move. Pulling back, she gave him a slight glare. His expression hadn’t changed, but that didn’t defeat her. No way could she be this hot if he wasn’t returning some of the heat.

Plus, he hadn’t warned her away with a word or a gesture, hadn’t moved back either. Not exactly a no.

Angling a hand backwards, she set the soda on the windowsill and reached up to clutch his shoulders, pushed her chest against his, snuggling closer, and kissed him again.

His hands curled gently around her waist.

Her heart sped up, her body melted. She pressed her lips harder.

However, Mason pushed her away…but his fingers didn’t let her go.

Rather than reach for him again, DiDi curved her fingers into her palms. She’d never thrown herself at a man like that, without an ounce of encouragement. Feeling like a fool, she pushed at his hands. “Don’t worry,” she said, unable to hold his steady stare now that she’d humiliated herself. “I promise I won’t attack you again.”

“DiDi.”

“What?” she snapped, lifting her face, hoping to salvage her pride.

“Dammit.” His lips slammed on top of hers. His hands let go of her waist and glided around her back, pulling her against him. And then he was walking her backward, pushing her against her door while he devoured her mouth.

DiDi thought she’d been ready for his kiss. Ready for whatever he’d bring, but under the onslaught, her head swam, her knees weakened. She locked her fingers behind his neck.

Scents intensified—the smell of thick, green forest, the exhaust of his car, his aftershave, the unique smell of his masculine musk.

Sounds—an indistinct hum before—returned, becoming louder. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked. The wind sifted through the trees, rustling leaves and creaking branches. And his heartbeat grew loud enough, insistent enough, her own matched its beat.

And God, the lush, wet thrill of that kiss! His mouth was hard, his tongue sinfully fluid, sliding along hers then tangling and twisting until she had to suck on it to keep him still and savor the sensual connection.

DiDi felt as though she drowned in a perfect moment, falling deeply into lust, her body shivering and bending toward him.

Mason broke the kiss. His gaze raked her face; his jaw tightened. “Better get inside an’ lock that door, chère.”

“And if I don’t want to?” she asked breathlessly, looking deep into his dark eyes.

“Gimme your key.”

Relief made her knees shake. He’s coming inside. She dug into her pocket for the key card and handed it over. He swiped the key and pulled down the latch next to her hip. Then he tossed the key toward the bed behind her and grasped her waist.

DiDi began to reach up to enfold him in her arms—

Scowling, Mason pushed her backward and closed the door in her face.

“Fuck,” she whispered. That had never happened before.

First of all, huge thanks to Delilah for having me again.  I always have a great time here.

I’ve been working for a while now on my goals for the next year (if you’re a writer and haven’t participated in Delilah’s Write 50 Books workshop, you should put it on your list now for next December!), and now am hoping that by the time you all read this, I will have finished fine-tuning them.

Before I could look ahead to what I want to accomplish in the next year, I had to go back to my plans for 2016 and see what I accomplished from last year’s goals list.  2016’s list was doable.  I had built-in time for adjustments to the timeline, because something always crops up to mess with your plans, doesn’t it?  Turns out even that wasn’t enough to make up for the things that cropped up in my world this past year.  Nothing that other people don’t also have to deal with.  Nothing that will change anyone else’s world but my own.  But enough to really throw a wrench into my own aims for the year.  So for the next year’s goals list, I built in a lot more time to handle the things I’ve been handling for more than half of this year, because they’re not going away any time soon.

Kinda makes me want to take it easier on my characters in the book I’m working on now.  But I can’t do that.  Their problems are different from my own, and sometimes life-threatening, so they don’t always get to look as far forward as I do.  Sometimes they only get to look as far as how they’re going to get past the current obstacle or danger they’re facing.  They might want to look farther into their futures, but life (or the villains!) keep throwing monkey wrenches into their plans.  They usually reach a point where they can’t imagine making it past their current problem, let alone imagine a happy ending.

So.  How many of you set goals or make resolutions for yourself for the new year?  Anything you want to share?  Or maybe just your method of setting achievable goals (or at least goals that don’t make you feel like a complete failure if you don’t quite make it)?  Maybe the rest of us can pick up some pointers.  And everyone who answers that by midnight on Dec. 31, 2016 will have their name entered into a drawing for an e-book of Hunting Medusa.

Hunting Medusa

One murderous mission. One killer case of PMS. Who said “the curse” was a myth?

Ever since the original Medusa ticked off Athena, her cursed daughters have been paying for that mistake. To this day, successive Medusas play cat and mouse with the Harvesters.

When Kallan Tassos tracks down the current Medusa, he expects to find a monster. Instead he finds a wary, beautiful woman, shielded by a complicated web of spells that foils his plans for a quick kill and retrieval of her protective amulet.

Andrea Rosakis expects the handsome Harvester to go for the kill. Instead, his attempt to take the amulet imprinted on her skin without harming her takes her completely by surprise. And ends with the two of them in a magical bind—together.

Though their attraction is combustible, her impending PMS (Pre Magical-Curse Syndrome) puts a real damper on any chance of a relationship. But Kallan isn’t the only Harvester tracking Andi, and they must cooperate to stay one step ahead of a ruthless killer before they can have any future, together or apart.

Get your copy here!

About the Author

Elizabeth Andrews has been a book lover since she was old enough to read. She read her copies of Little Women and the Little House series so many times, the books fell apart. As an adult, her book habit continues. She has a room overflowing with her literary collection right now, and still more spreading into other rooms.  Almost as long as she’s been reading great stories, she’s been attempting to write her own.  Thanks to a fifth grade teacher who started the class on creative writing, Elizabeth went from writing creative sentences to short stories and eventually full-length novels. Her father saved her poor, callused fingers from permanent damage when he brought home a used typewriter for her.

Elizabeth found her mother’s stash of romance novels as a teenager, and-though she loves horror-romance became her very favorite genre, making writing romances a natural progression. There are more than just a few manuscripts, however, tucked away in a filing cabinet that will never see the light of day.

Along with her enormous book stash, Elizabeth lives with her husband of more than  twenty years and two young adult sons, though no one else in the house reads nearly as much as she does. When she’s not at work or buried in books or writing, there is a garden outside full of herbs, flowers and vegetables that requires occasional attention.

www.ElizabethAndrewsWrites.com

I love making soup.  Creating the broth from scratch, chopping all the vegetables, adding the meat, and seeing the look on my families faces when they come home and the house is filled with the tempting aroma.

My favorite soup is an old family recipe from Holland called “Groente Soup” or Dutch Vegetable Soup.  It takes a while to make but is well worth the effort.

The approach I used for the books in the Rose Series is much the same to making the soup.  The foundation of any soup is the broth.  For Dutch Vegetable Soup the broth is made by boiling soup bones and stew meat in water then let it simmer for four hours in a crock pot.  When the soup is finished, strain the fat, bones and meat from the liquid.

The foundation for the Rose series is the world of politics.  I know many people are tired of politics.  Our recent national election dominated the news cycle for the last eighteen months.  But politics is important.  The decisions made by the people who hold office affect our daily lives in many ways.  The result of an election has consequences whether it is for the President of the United States or the local water board.  My series takes place in the Idaho State Legislature.

The next step in the soup recipe is to add the meat and vegetables.  I add one cut up a head of cauliflower, five chopped up stalks of celery, five chopped up carrots, two chopped leeks (white parts only), and a pound of hamburger rolled into one inch balls.  I usually make this in a crock pot so I put it on high for two hours.

In the Rose Series, the ingredients are the characters.  In each book I have a new hero and heroine but the other characters continue through all three books.  Each character has his or her goals, roadblocks and baggage.  Some have higher political aspirations, others want power, and some are working for the common good.

To thicken the soup, I switch the crock pot to low and add a package of vermicelli broken into pieces.  To spice up the soup, add two beef bouillon cubes and chopped up fresh parsley to taste.  Cook for another two hours on low.

To thicken the plot of the Rose series, I have added the ghosts from the eighteen hundreds and the race to be the first governor when Idaho achieved statehood.  The spice of the series is the overall arc with supernatural beings trying to influence the outcome of events and the lives of the characters for their own agendas.

The Rose Series concludes this December with the third and final book, The Bloom of a Rose.

I hope you enjoy the soup and the books.

Augustina Van Hoven
Proving Love is Strange
THE KISS OF A ROSE
THE THORN OF A ROSE
THE BLOOM OF A ROSE – Coming in December
www.augustinavanhoven.com
Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Augustina-Van-Hoven-Author/336028986575129
Twitter:  @augustinavhoven
Pinterest: Augustina Van Hoven, Author

THE KISS OF A ROSE

A DISTANT PAST

In 1882, Rose Van Buren loved the wrong man and paid for it with her life. Now, more than a century later, the angel Gabriel has granted her another shot at living. In exchange, she must convince a smart, handsome, up-and-coming lawyer to set aside his lofty ambitions.

A FUTURE PRESENT

Stephen Winship is headed straight for the governor’s chair. He has a brilliant career, solid allies, and a seemingly perfect girlfriend. But night after night he finds himself dreaming of a heavenly beauty, a luminous but long-dead girl. Like some altered Ghost of Christmas Past, she shows him her own tragic tale in order to “save him.” And he’s beginning to see Rose is risking her heart as much as baring her soul. Yet falling for her will cost him everything—and open him up to a happiness he never imagined.

Get your copy here!

THE THORN OF A ROSE

We are all chess pieces on a board … in a game played by supernatural forces.

TOWARD A BRIGHTER FUTURE

Newly elected state senator Ashley Halliday is over her failed engagement and ready to help make Idaho a better place to live and work. She has no time for romance … until she and Richard, a handsome state representative, take their friendship to a new level. But then there’s John, an aide to the governor of Idaho. Both hold power … but only one is a good man. The other is on a mission to destroy lives. Will she learn the truth in time to save lives and keep her friends safe from dark influences?

Sports bar owner and state representative Richard Fowler is happy for his best friend Stephen and his bride, Rose. He knows their secret–Rose came back from the dead to save Stephen from his lofty ambitions. Richard himself has no time for any supernatural goings-on or for romance, not with his work to save state education funding. Until he sees the vibrant Senator Halliday through new eyes, that is. But to win Ashley, he must keep her safe from a rival who wants her for darker reasons.

FROM A DARK PAST

A villain has returned from the dead, summoned by a demon, and given another chance to do what he failed at the first time. He’ll gladly take down anyone else who gets in his way. And his new post in the halls of state government? A devilish chance to play corrupt lobbyist, and foil the plans of those with loftier goals.

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I write about what I love. From one piece to the next it might include vampires, incubi, an underdog, or a Werecat or two but it always includes music. I tend to crush hard on rockers with amazing voices. My music addiction has given me great joy. In fact, music is the backdrop to the best times in my life.  So many road trips taken in the name of a good concert—or a good record show.

Record shows were large exhibits comprised of dozens—sometimes, hundreds—of dealers of all things music and pop culture. You could find just about any vinyl record you were looking for (domestic and imported) plus compact disks, photos, and posters.  If you were REALLY lucky, you’d find videos. Half of the fun was the hunt for that one rare find.

Today, my partner and I go to ComicCons. Once in a while we find a cool poster or picture, but what these conventions have over record shows is the opportunity to meet the celebrities.  Yes, I’m a fangirl but I don’t get all loopy over just any old star. What about Jason Momoa, you ask? Oh, yes. The last time I had my picture taken with him, he invited me to slip my arm around his waist and I nearly fainted. I didn’t though—why waste the moment?

Still, there was something about rummaging through crates to find that album with the poster in it, or the CD from across the pond with different liner notes.

Anyone remember going to record shows? Man, oh man do I miss them.

House of the Rising Son

Living After Midnight, Book 1
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance (LGBT)

Cheyenne is a half-human incubus whose star is on the rise in the Unakite City rock scene. His father, the leader of the supernatural races, would prefer he keep a “low profile”, but screw that. Cheyenne has as much music in his veins as royal incubi blood.

Alexander’s future is all set—finish law school, join the family firm, and marry someone who’d be good for business. Not that he has a say in any of it. He’s barely met the woman his father expects him to marry.

As Cheyenne’s musical career takes off, his carefully constructed life begins to unravel, exacerbated by an ex-lover who can’t let go, a crotchety barkeeper with a dirty mind and a pure heart, a drag queen who moonlights as a nanny, and Alexander—who’s not sure if he’s falling for the incubus or the rocker.

Cheyenne denies who he is, while Alexander hides what he wants. Together, they learn that getting what they truly want means being who they truly are.

~~

Excerpt:

While waiting for their drinks, Alexander studied the deep grooves carved into the table, trying to ignore the friction of Cheyenne’s thigh rubbing against his as the musician tapped a heel to the thump of the DJ’s music. Once the drinks arrived, Alexander downed half the bottle before he realized Cheyenne’s large green eyes were staring at him.

“So where’s your girl, Prudhomme? I mean, Prune Danish. No, wait…”

“Prudish. Shit, Prudence,” Alexander sputtered.

Cheyenne’s eyes sparkled. “No, you got it right the first time. Where is she?”

He shrugged. “Home, I guess.”

Cheyenne cocked his head. “Oh, really?” He put his hand on Alexander’s leg. “What’s up? You can tell me.”

“It’s not working out.” Alexander dragged his teeth over his lower lip. “It’s my fault.” He couldn’t keep his attraction to Cheyenne out of his voice. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Cheyenne put his thumb to his lip and paused. “It’s like the drink.”

Alexander tilted his head, not sure he heard correctly. “The drink?”

“Yeah, that nasty ass bourbon. I bet your father drinks it. Your uncles. All your friends. Everybody, right?”

He didn’t answer, but waited for Cheyenne to continue.

“It was just expected that you’d drink it too. So you did.” His hand moved up Alexander’s thigh. “But now, maybe it’s okay to drink what you like. A different brand, a better vintage. Because you want it. Because it tastes better.” Cheyenne licked his lips. “Because it feels right.”

Alexander cleared his throat and brushed his lap, pushing Cheyenne’s hand away. “I can’t.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not that easy. My whole life will change.”

“It already has.”

~~

You can find House of the Rising Son on Amazon and Barnes and  Noble

About the Author

Trevann Rogers writes urban fantasy and LGBT paranormal romances. Her books include HOUSE OF THE RISING SON and its prequel novella, AFTER MIDNIGHT. Trevann’s stories incorporate an unquenchable addiction to music and her love for vampires, Weres, incubi and rock stars. Like these elusive creatures, Trevann learned long ago that sometimes being yourself means Living After Midnight.

You can find Trevann online at:
www.trevannrogers.com
www.facebook.com/trevannr
www.pinterest.com/trevannr
Twitter: @TrevannRogers