Guest: Sarah Hoss and New Release, Highland Savior + Giveaway!

Welcome, Sarah! Congratulations on your new release! Please tell us about your writing.

I write contemporary romance novellas and my novels are historical paranormal romance. Why the two different genres you ask? Well, I hadn’t intended it to be that way. I began writing historical paranormal romance because I love time travel and going into the past. I enjoy the research involved. If you take a person from the future and place them in the past or vice versa, I find it interesting on how they would interact with  the people, adapt to their surroundings, and try to make a life for themselves in a place so foreign to them.  I like how it brings out their true nature.

My contemporary novellas began with one called Heaven Sent. I began writing it for a contest and from there, it became published. I decided then to continue to write them. One- because it gives my readers another genre to read plus it might bring in new readers who may not like the other genre. Two- I can put out the novellas in between the novels so that everyone has something to read while they are waiting.

You would think contemporary romance would be fairly easy to write considering we live in the here and now, but that’s not always the case. Because we live in this time, it can be harder to impress the reader.  No matter the genre, no matter the theme, we authors put our hearts in every book.

I want to thank the ladies here for having me. I appreciate the opportunity to speak and meet new people.

Thank you so much for being our guest today, Sarah!

***

Highland Savior

Two Lifetimes – Two Hearts – One future, if they can only survive the past.

Hamish Macpherson is surrounded by turmoil: an arsonist is on the loose, he’s in the middle of a feud with a local clansman, and just as he’s trying to save his sister from a burning cottage, he appears in the middle of a foreign living room three hundred years past his own time.

Gillian Meadows thinks she’s self-sufficient and can handle anything until she witnesses a murder in the alley next to an Olde City tavern. In a desperate run to escape being the next victim, she stumbles into a wiccan store and accepts the help of the shop owner. Little does she know that one mis-spoken word of a simple incantation can change everything.

Neither world is safe, but Hamish can better protect Gillian if he returns to his own time. Gillian has no choice but to go with him if she wants to escape the danger closing in. Little do they know that his past could be the biggest threat of all to their future.

***

 Excerpt!

Loud shouts grabbed her attention. She stared forward, trying to ignore the fighting. A woman’s scream echoed from the alleyway, sending a shiver up her back, making the hair at the nape of her neck stand up.

The man yelled on the top of his lungs, something about her never doing it again. How he trusted her and he was a fool, that all women were the same. The crying woman pleaded.

Gillian stopped and searched the streets in both directions, praying the cab would come soon. She heard a slap, then another. She would have to cross the alley to get back to the bar and she stopped, not sure what to do. She had no desire to be stuck outside, listening to a man beat his girlfriend. Once inside the bar, she could tell someone and they could come and help her. Rat bastard deserved a little taste of what he was dishing out.

Her lips puckered and she blew out a long silent breath, trying desperately to steady her nerves. She walked on her tip toes, slowly approaching the alley. Her heart raced. Silently, she said a prayer asking to not be seen. Panic coursed through her veins like ice and she shivered.

She stood immobile with her toes touching the edge of the alley as she listened to the man’s degrading words. The woman’s sobbing gripped her heart and squeezed. She should do something, but what? She was no match against the brute. She had to get into the bar. The safest route was to cross the street, walk down a block, then cross back over to the bar. The fastest, was to cross the alley.

Staring straight ahead, she made it halfway across when a gunshot pierced the night air and broke her resolve. She stopped, covered her ears and bowed her head. Instinct told her to run but she couldn’t help but peek down the alley. The woman slid to the ground and fell hard on the cement. She didn’t move. Gillian willed her feet to go, but they had a mind of their own. The man stood still as he watched the woman collapse, the gun held tight in his hand at his side. Gillian’s entire body shook and she dropped her purse.

She screamed, then bit down on her fist to stifle the sound. The man turned toward her. Time seemed to slow down.

The lighting wasn’t the best and she couldn’t make out a lot of details, but he was tall.

He stepped toward her as she unconsciously took a step back, kicking her purse, and she bent over to pick it up. She turned to run, then her heel caught in the sewer grate, causing her to fall and lose her shoe. She was vaguely aware of a plastic bag as it blew down the street like tumbleweed. A street lamp flashed on and off at the corner. Faint music played from within the tavern. She was aware of the searing pain that shot through her knee and elbow and the overwhelming desire to get up and run into the bar. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling awkwardly with only one heel.

Before she’d taken two steps, he reached her and grabbed her arm. “Come here, bitch.” His words came out in a tone just above a whisper. It was creepy and grated against her nerves. He pulled her back into the edge of the alley.

Gillian was frozen in place. All of his attention stayed focused on her. The gun was still in his hand. She willed her mind to work and tried to slow her breathing before she hyperventilated. She needed to come up with a plan for escape. She turned quickly to look out into the street. People came in and out of the bar all the time, why didn’t someone come now? There were no cars, no nothing. Was the night conspiring against her?

He grabbed her by the arms, forcefully pulling her against his chest. She struggled but he was too strong.

“Let me go!” she screamed.

“You saw, didn’t you, blackbird?” His hot breath stung her ear. It reeked of whisky. Bile rose in her throat as he fisted his hand into her hair and forced her to stare at him.

She swallowed. “No, sir. I swear I didn’t.” Tears danced in her lashes, then fell down her cheeks at the pain of her hair being pulled.

“Bullshit.”

Spittle flew against her face as he spat his angry words. A car roared around the corner and she stole a glance. Her taxi. Here was her chance to get away before this turned uglier than it already was.

After sucking in a breath of courage, she yelled, “Go to hell!” then brought her knee up hard against his crotch, dropping him to the ground. His ring caught in her hair as he grabbed his injured manhood, causing her to jerk backward for a second. She spun on her feet, tearing her panty hose and ran for the taxi.

A gunshot echoed in the night for a second time. The bullet hit the decorative street lamp above her head, making a funny tinging noise. She reached the car just as another shot rang through the air, striking the back window of the car. Glass shattered and she ducked down into the seat.

“Drive me to Bradford Place Apartments,” she hollered as the driver was already putting the car into gear. As he dialed 911, she clutched her purse to her chest and cried. All she wanted to do was lock herself away in her apartment forever.

The cab sped away as the words of the man trailed her. “I will find you!”

AUTHOR BIO:

Sarah Hoss grew up believing she could try anything and if she set her mind to it, she would succeed. Sixteen years of dance lessons, Cheerleading, and school plays proved to her that her parent’s words rang true. Writing was no exception. Reading the Outlander series made her fall in love with time travels and the historical places books could take her. Always a child with a vivid imagination, she realized as an adult, she could put her imagination to good use and began writing. Marrying her very own hero, they live in Indiana in the town where she grew up. They have three beautiful children and one hyper dog. When Sarah isn’t writing, she enjoys gardening, camping, and watching her kids’ play sports.

Where to find Sarah-

Website- www.sarahhoss.com

Blog- www.heart-of-romance.blogspot.com

Twitter- @SarahHoss1

Facebook- 

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sarah-Hoss/237219983049037

Sarah is giving away an ebook copy of Highland Savior to one lucky commenter!

Guest: Nancy Lee Badger

Award-winning author, Nancy Lee Badger, loves chocolate-chip shortbread, wool plaids wrapped around the trim waist of a Scottish Highlander, the clang of broadswords, and the sound of bagpipes in the air. After growing up in Huntington, New York, and raising two handsome sons in New Hampshire, she moved to North Carolina where she writes full-time. A former EMT, volunteer firefighter, and 911 Dispatcher, Nancy writes about kilted Highlanders, heart-broken dragons, and romantic thrillers and is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, Triangle Area Freelancers, and the Celtic Heart Romance Writers.  

Welcome, Nancy! Please tell us about your new release.

The idea to add pirates to My Hunted Highlander, the final book in my Scottish time travel series, came out of the blue. The blue being my love of the sea. I grew up within walking distance of beaches on the north shore of Long Island in New York and as older kids, we traveled in packs on weekends to Jones Beach or Fire Island. Visiting Scotland is on my bucket list, and the North Sea is at the top of the Scottish vistas I mean to enjoy.

My Hunted Highlander’s plot can be described this way:  Plucked naked from the North Sea, bruised and nearly drowned, Niall Sinclair wakes bound to the mast of the pirate ship, The Black Thistle. Hiding his identity, and brutalized by the first mate and other seamen, their captain comes to his aid. Her identity, and gender, are a surprise, and his physical reaction to her makes him nearly forget his need to escape, and return to his clan.

When kidnapped from her shipbuilding business in modern day Portsmouth, New Hampshire, the last place Blair MacIan figured to end up, was at the helm of a pirate ship in 1603 Scotland. With her abusive husband dead, and the ship, the crew, and their people under her care, the last thing she needed was to fish a naked man from the sea. His ravaged face and ragged sandy hair could not detract from his magnificence, and she sensed in him, a means for her own escape.

A woman pirate? Why not! Mixing a modern woman making the best of a horrid situation, and a scarred and lost Highlander, gave me plenty of opportunities to twist this story into a scary, upbeat, kilted, romantic romp. My research into pirates plying the North Sea off Scotland’s eastern coast was spotty, but what little I found was enough to create a crew, a ship, and a plot.

This book follows My Lady Highlander and My Dark Highlander, and is the last time travel romance I will be writing (for a while), but not the last of books with a Scottish theme. I plan to volunteer at the 40th annual New Hampshire Highland Games and Festival this fall, something I share with my family. While surrounded by thousands of men dressed in Highland kilts, with dirks on their hips, and whisky on their breath, the next book will easily write itself!

Excerpt from My Hunted Highlander

“What be this?”

 “An eye patch. It’ll keep your damaged eye from straining to stay closed. Keeping it covered will let it heal. Tie your hair at the back of your neck with this, and I will show you how it works.”

Niall shoved his fingers through his hair, then accepted a short strip of thicker leather. He tied his hair into a short queue, then lowered his arms.

Blair stepped closer and positioned the wool over his left eye. It rested alongside the left side of his nose, running from his brow, to below his eye. The darkness and softness of the wool was not as pleasurable as the gentle touch of her fingertips, as she centered the cloth. The leather ties pulled across his forehead and above his left ear. She walked behind him and tied them at the back of his head.

“Too tight?”

“Nay.” The strings were fine, but he lied about the tightness, elsewhere. Feeling like a green boy, alone for the first time with a tavern wench aiming to share her wares, he stifled a groan and waited.

She returned to her side of the table, and stood gazing down at him. “How does that feel?”

Settling back in the creaking wooden chair, he glanced around the room. His damaged cheek felt the slight pressure of the cloth, but the strain to keep his left eye closed had disappeared. “Aye, ‘tis fine. I thank ye, lass…Captain.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You look like a pirate.”

“I would like to join yer crew.”

“What?” she cried, as she tumbled onto her seat. The chair teetered backward, and as her arms flailed, he raced to her side. When the chair stopped bobbling, and the front legs slammed back onto the wood floor, she glared up at him.

Nancy is giving away a $25 Gift Card to Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Enter HERE.

Please visit Nancy online:

Blog                              http://www.nancyleebadger.blogspot.com
Website                         http://www.nancyleebadger.com
Twitter                          https://twitter.com/NLBadger
Facebook                      http://on.fb.me/KMGS4z                    
Goodreads                    http://bit.ly/Vd1Usg
LinkedIn                      http://linkd.in/1N902go

Amazon Author Page   http://amzn.to/13ICHLq

Nancy's new book, My Hunted Highlander, is available at the following links.

Amazon ebook            http://amzn.to/1GYQqpr

NOOK                        http://bit.ly/1KZjE7h

Smashwords                http://bit.ly/1fha0kp   

iTunes                         http://apple.co/1GzRhq4

AllRomance                http://bit.ly/1G3xEaG

Amazon print              http://amzn.to/1GT84sI

Thank you, Nancy, for being our special guest today!

Guest: Nancy Lee Badger - Why Time Traveling Hunks-in-Kilts?

Nancy Lee Badger loves chocolate-chip shortbread and wool plaids wrapped around the trim waist of a Scottish Highlander. Her stories tempt you with the clang of broadswords, and the sound of bagpipes in the air. With her notebook at hand, and her camera ready to capture the next example of a perfect ‘turning of the caber’, Nancy can be spotted at various Highland games and festivals ‘soaking up the culture’.

After growing up in Huntington, New York, and raising two handsome sons in New Hampshire, she moved to North Carolina where she writes full-time. Nancy is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, Triangle Area Freelancers, and the Celtic Heart Romance Writers.  

Why Time Traveling Hunks-in-Kilts?

A reader recently asked me why I decided to write another Scottish time travel romance. My Lady Highlander, though the first in my Kilted Athletes Through Time series, is my fourth Scottish time travel. My answer was this: sometimes the characters write the story. I am not saying I have no control. I like historical novels…to a point, but I wanted to do something different.

Turning the Caber

Since I have attended Scottish Highland games and festivals from Canada to Georgia, I wanted to incorporate their festive atmosphere, mouth-watering foods, hunky men in kilts hefting telephone poles, and bagpipe-playing rock bands ‘bringing down the house’. Historically inaccurate as some things might seem, such as the kilted hottie with a cell phone in his sporran, adding real history to my stories blends the best of two worlds.

Seven Nations

The early seventeenth century was a world of upheavals and grim tales of hunger, piracy, battles, and death, but the people always found time to celebrate the harvest (Samhain) or the coming of spring sunshine (Beltane). Many of the feats of strength I see at modern-day games came into being quite naturally. The longbow competition, the hammer throw, and even wrestling are reminders of battle scenarios.

Today’s ‘battles’ are quickly ended, and toasted with a glass of ale, or a dram of Whisky. Why not show the battles and swordplay in my book, then remind my readers that they can see examples of these at Highland Games held around the globe.

My Lady Highlander Excerpt:

The fist landed on Bull’s left cheek, slamming his head against the tree. He saw stars, and his stomach lurched. As the dizzy spell worsened and his knees buckled, he wanted nothing more than to vomit on Niall’s boots. A rustling of branches and a flurry of Gaelic curses in a woman’s voice brought his head up.

Izzy? No!

“Leave him be, ye ornery, loud-mouthed, son of a defiler. He saved yer brother’s life, and this is how ye repay the man?” Izzy said, and walked slowly toward Niall.

Bull stared, shocked and worried that she’d left her perfectly good hiding place for him. With a smile on her heart-shaped face, her beauty was like the sun after a storm. Moonlight sparkled in her stormy eyes. Groaning, as she raised the sword he’d hidden with her, and rested the tip on the curve of Niall’s left pectoral muscle, Bull wanted to laugh.

Or, cry.

“She’s too close to him,” Bull muttered.

Her womanly fragrance of flowers, pine and moss, eased his body and calmed his stomach. Struggling to stand, he wished he could take her place. It should be him, who held a sword to Niall’s chest.

Her eyes flitted sideways, watching Bull rise and lean against the tree, then she turned back to Niall. He could grab the sword out of her hand, any second.

“Izzy, love. Why didn’t you stay hidden?” Sucking in more air, Bull’s voice croaked.

“The wildcat has risen from her den. What’s this ye say? Who be defiling who?”

My Lady Highlander is available at:

Amazon                              

AmazonPrint                     

NOOK                                

Barnes &Noble Print         

What’s next for you?

I was invited to join nine other authors in a boxed set titled ‘Ten Timeless Heroes’. Readers new to my writing can try My Honorable Highlander, which is in the boxed set, and is Book #1 in the Highland games Through Time series. I am also currently writing the second book in my new series, in between visiting Scottish Highland festivals.  

10 Timeless Heroes

Nancy Lee Badger’s My Honorable Highlander is one of the books where magic & destiny unite lovers across time and space in this epic collection of award-winning, chart topping tales. From sweet to sizzling romances, 10 Timeless Heroes has a little something for everyone. Over fifteen hundred pages!

 

Amazon    http://amzn.to/RuFTub

NOOK       http://bit.ly/1ntUSi5

What is your idea of the perfect ending to a day spent at a Scottish Highland festival? One person’s comment will win an ebook copy of My Lady Highlander. Contest ends. April 26^th. (Please remember to leave your email address in some form so we can contact you if you win.)

Connect with Nancy Lee Badger

Blog                                      http://www.nancyleebadger.blogspot.com
Website                                 http://www.nancyleebadger.com
Twitter                                  https://twitter.com/NLBadger
Facebook                              http://on.fb.me/KMGS4z                    
Goodreads                            http://bit.ly/Vd1Usg
Amazon Author Page           http://amzn.to/13ICHLq

Thank you for being our guest today, Nancy!!

A HIghlander Comes Riding . . . March 3rd!!

Hi Fierce Friends!
It’s the last week before my new time travel romance, HIGHLAND REBEL, comes out on March 3rd and I am really getting excited! I’ve had some really great reviews this week on different romance websites, and my preorders seem to be going well. I’m at #28 on the amazon fiction Books list for time travels. Since I’m up against every single one of Diana Gabaldon’s books and each of their separate printings, I feel pretty good about being #28.

There’s still time to sign up to be one of my Troubadours – just saunter over to my MySpace and read the last few blogs there, and then email me @ tessmallory@yahoo.com if you have any questions. The prizes range from a free book to a $25 Barnes and Noble gift card, and a Celtic spiral necklace! It’s easy to enter, just read the details at myspace!

Since I've gotten some good reviews, I thought I’d share them with all of you, in the hope that some of you who are reading will think, “Hmm, that Tess Mallory got some good reviews; I think I just might take a chance and buy her new book, HIGHLAND REBEL.” (in the background the song, Take a Chance on Me begins to play).

You see, Fierce Friends, I would really like to be, no, I would LOVE to be on a Best Seller’s list. Wouldn’t that be cool ? Wouldn’t that just really be a terrific thing? “Sure,” you say, “that’s fine for you, but what’s in it for me?” Well, that’s why you need to read my blog over at myspace! Yes, I’m going to be mysterious. That’s just how I roll.

Meanwhile, here are some of the reviews:

From Harriet Klausner :
“The Queen of Highlander time travel romance (see HIGHLAND MAGIC, HIGHLAND DREAM, HIGHLAND FLING and HIGHLAND ROGUE), Tess Mallory writes another whimsical tale as the roguish hero follows his love back to the era he left behind. Part of the pleasure in this delightful entry is the reaction of Ian’s brother Angus to his siblings’ return after his being away over two decades from home . . .”

From Chris at Night Owl Romance:
“Full of historical information, jaunts about the countryside, a few explosions and some rocking romance, Highland Rebel was an enjoyable read. With the secondary romance between Davey and Katie, the story moved along smoothly. With a happily ever after, including a surprising one for Ian and his family, I enjoyed the story very much.”

From Maura at Coffee Time Romance:
“I am not usually a big fan of time travel romances, but Ms. Mallory’s are always an exception. Her characters are realistic despite their situation, and she manages to go from the present to the past with no loss of that realistic feel. Ian and Ellie are wonderful characters, each with flaws and virtues. Ian’s career as a Celtic Rocker is a masterstroke, and Ellie really comes out of her shell in the 1700’s. I also liked the subplot of Katie and Davy’s romance and the secret Jacobites.”

From Kathe Robin at Romantic Times Magazine:
(Sorry, I can’t find the magazine right now, but the gist of it was that she liked it and said it would receive . . . “A warm welcome . . . “ and then gave it 4 Stars!

So, okay, whaddaya say, Fierce Friends? Ready to give Time Travel Romance a shot? After all, don’t we all wish we could somehow be swept back in history to a more romantic place and time, where we could meet a hunky warrior, find true love and save the world? Well, our world as we know it? That’s what my characters always strive to do! It’s adventure, romance, history, humor, fun and a rollicking ride, I promise!

If everyone who reads this blog bought a copy of HIGHLAND REBEL on March 3rd . . . well, hey, maybe one of my dreams would come true and I would be deeply grateful to you, my faithful readers! But even if I don't make any of the lists, I still think you’ll enjoy the read, and I'll still be honored that you chose to read it!

Remember, Love is Timeless . . .
Keep Writing . . . Keep Reading . . . Keep Loving !
Hugs, Tess

HIGHLAND REBEL Contest Continues . . .

What Romantic Times Book Reviews says about HIGHLAND REBEL by Tess Mallory —

“. . . Adventurous, romantic, fast-moving . . . 4 Stars!“

Hi Peeps! Welcome to the Wild World of Time Travel Romance! If you’re a stranger to this genre, let me assure you that while my books are jam-packed with the adventurous side of traveling through the space/time continuum, they also center around the blossoming relationship between a woman and a man!

In HIGHLAND REBEL, my latest book from BERKLEY SENSATIONS, the woman happens to be Ellie Graham, the Goth-influenced band manager of Celtic rock and roll star, Ian MacGregor. You guessed it - Ian is the man in this romantic adventure, and is he ever a hunky hunk. (I really think I outdid myself this time. Let me know what you think!)

Ellie is unaware that Ian is a time traveler who journeyed to the future with the help her sister, Maggie. All she knows is that she is head over heels in love with the Scottish bad boy, and since Ellie has had a fear of loving anyone ever since her parents died, she does what she always does — she runs. But this time her panicked flight sends her to an ancient cairn, where the tri-spiral (or triskele) carved into the floor takes her back to the year 1734. Ian follows, and there he learns that the brothers and father he left behind have become part of the dreaded Black Watch! It is up to him to save his family, his country, and the woman he loves . . . he is the HIGHLAND REBEL!!

Woo! How’s that grab you? ) In a good way, I hope. Speaking of good things — I’m having a contest, and rather than repeat a bunch of stuff here, please go to my blog on myspace at www.myspace.com/tessmallory or the blog on my fanspace at www.myspace.com/tessmalloryfanspace to find out how to win a free book, a $25 gift card to Barnes and Noble, and a Celtic necklace just by talking up my books on message boards!!

I love to hear from my readers — write me at tessmallory@yahoo.com

Remember . . . Love is Timeless! Keep Reading! Keep Writing! Keep Loving!

Time Travel Anyone?

Ever since the around the age of four, I’ve delighted in putting the stories in my mind onto paper or electronic media. Escaping to fantasy worlds. Creating fictional characters. Letting my imagination take flight and transport my characters and me to exotic and enchanting places. Many times I wish I had kept the journals in which I wrote as a child. While most of my stories have leaned toward Literary and Women’s Fiction (including Romance), most of my childhood tales trended toward Fantasy. Truly, those adventures were more otherworldly and surreal than what I currently write. But my reading preferences have always been varied and practically run the gamut of everything available on bookstore shelves.

In the recent past a friend asked me if there was any genre or sub-genre I enjoyed reading but which I had never written. Didn’t take me long to respond. Science Fiction and Time Travel. Two of the genres to which I turn during contemplative times and breaks in my own writing are Science Fiction and Time Travel. Countless episodes of the original Star Trek played on my family’s television in years past, and I marveled at the way my mind conjured so many “what ifs” and “hows” as those voyages aired. English, Composition and History were always my favorite subjects, but the Sciences were hot on their heels. Though I've written multiple manuscripts, I haven’t yet been spurred to plot a Time Travel or Science Fiction novel. So many have mastered these genres, most especially Ray Bradbury and Madeleine L’Engle. The tales those two authors told totally engrossed their readers and nudged them to consider the existence of alternative universes and scientific breakthroughs. They created characters whose conflicts and thought processes mirrored and stimulated those of readers. In essence, they achieved the closest thing to perfection with their plotting and stories. I’ll always remain grateful to my parents and teachers for introducing me to these authors and so many others over the years. Reading, and reading often, is a pastime all writers should learn to tap as their best resource for recharging their own creativity. Will I ever write a Time Travel novel? Probably not. But I will continue reading them.

During my moments of pondering and plotting, I often mull what it would be like journeying back to some of my favorite periods in time. The Jazz Age. The Civil War. Antony and Cleopatra’s Rome. The Salem Witch Trials. The Summer of Love. Although I am a woman who totally embraces creature comforts, the history buff in me would relish an opportunity to travel back in time to witness firsthand the happenings of the historical periods previously listed. During my beloved mother’s bout with cancer, a battle she unfortunately lost, I longed for a chance to see into the future. To learn of medical breakthroughs that would save my mother’s life. I also wished I could have traveled back in time and perhaps spotted any clues as to my mother’s illness before it became inoperable and terminal. The futility of my yearnings was evident at the start. But the writer and wonderer in me granted those thoughts a rapt audience.

While leisurely soaks in fragrant bubbles, steaming mugs of espresso and cappucino, running water, electricity, internet and automobiles are fabulous, I would be willing to trade them for a time in order to explore yesteryears and future decades.

Readers, if you had an opportunity to travel backward or forward in time, to shun the trappings and creature comforts of our modern-day society, would you?

In the event you find this blog post a bit serious-minded, I’ll switch things up a bit and put this to you. What if the world/time period you had a chance to visit offered the bonus below? If you were guaranteed a return to your real, current world after a short time, would this make you consider a journey forward or back in time, or a journey to a world not yet discovered?








Wishing you all many happy reading moments,

Shawna Moore
TORMENTED -- Ellora's Cave (MUST-READ from Dark Angel reviews)
ROUGHRIDER -- Ellora's Cave Exotika
HELLE IN HEELS -- Ellora's Cave Exotika
TO HELLE AND BACK AGAIN -- Coming in 2009 to Ellora's Cave
Shawna's Myspace
Helle's Myspace

Excerpt from HIGHLAND REBEL - Out March 2009

Hey Fierce Friends!
Sorry I've been AWOL. Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas or Hannukah or other holiday and that the New Year holds amazing things for all of you! I've been promising an excerpt from my new time travel romance, HIGHLAND REBEL, which will be out in March 2009 -- but can be pre-ordered now, don't forget! And I'm finally making good on that promise! Here's the actual first paragraphs of the book, which is the second in my Timeless Highlanders Series from Berkley Books. Hope you love Ian as much as Ellie does! Would love to hear from any and all!

Coming from from Berkley Books, March 2009
HIGHLAND REBEL
By Tess Mallory (copyright 2009)

Celtic music sensation Ian MacGregor flashed his now-famous smile at the thousand or more fans cheering as he took his place center stage at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall. He wore a traditional MacGregor kilt, knee-high suede leather boots, and nothing else, except a burnished gold band around his upper arm, skimming the lower edge of his Trinity tattoo.

As he grabbed the wireless mike from its stand and welcomed the suddenly hushed crowd, offstage Ellie Graham tossed her dyed black hair back from her shoulders and narrowed her eyes.

Oh, sure, he was Mr. Hunky Hunk, but take away that tousled blonde hair, the sky blue eyes, his bare, muscular chest, the awesome tattoo and devil-may care smile, and what was left?

Just his ruggedly handsome face, amazing voice, and awesome musical ability.

His bare chest gleamed beneath the bagpipes strapped around his torso, and his ragged hair grazed the top of his broad shoulders as his eyes twinkled, promising pleasure to all who dared to meet them.

The pipes’ leather “halter” was Ian’s own creation, fashioned to leave his hands free for grabbing the microphone—or any willing woman who might fling herself in his direction. And there were a lot of willing women in Ian’s life. He was the epitome of a Highland Bad Boy, a Celtic Casanova, a Scottish Scoundrel, a—

Oh stop, a little voice inside her head ordered. You know that Ian is one of the nicest, humblest guys you’ve ever met. It’s not his fault that he’s gorgeous and, well, a man.

Ellie folded her arms across her chest. It was true. Ian was darn near perfect. Then her mouth went dry and her brain functions faltered as Ian took center stage. Dazed again by the sight of him in action, she watched as he raised both fists into the air and gave the sea of adoring fans what they’d all been waiting for with baited breath.
\
“Ard Cholle!” he shouted.

The crowd went wild. Hundreds of women rushed the stage, screaming like banshees. Ellie shivered. She couldn’t deny that she still got goosebumps when she heard Ian give the MacGregor war cry. His rough, rich voice resonated across the vast hall and she took a deep, steadying breath.

Ian grinned widely as his backup band, “Outlaw”, launched into a rock and roll version of “Donald, Where’s Your Trousers?” Ellie couldn’t help but smile. The song was an old one, written as a slur against Scotsmen, but Ian had taken it and made it the national anthem of sexy men in kilts. It had become an instant hit in the UK.

With a loud whoop, he danced across the wide platform, his kilt whirling above his knees, exposing lean, hard thighs. He sang into the microphone, his deep, rich voice seducing every woman in the hall. He moved his trim, muscular body like a man possessed, working the crowd into its usual frenzy, and Ellie knew, with a sinking heart, that she had made the right choice.

There was no way around it. As soon as this last show on the UK tour was over, she had to dump Ian. Until then, she had no choice but to watch the man she loved do his best to give a thousand other women musical orgasms.

Ian sang. Women screamed. Ian shouted. Men shouted back. Ian rocked the crowd, enticing every person there, daring them to dance, to sing, to lose every inhibition they’d ever had. And as he did, the walls of the auditorium seemed to tremble with an intense, frantic energy, with Ian at the center of the maelstrom, inviting everyone to join him, love him, embrace him, as he reached the last verse of the song.

“The lassies love me every one
But they must catch me if they can,
Ye canna put breeks on a Highland man, saying,
“Donald, where's your trousers?”

Ellie closed her eyes at the thought of Ian without his trousers. The crowd whistled and cheered as Ian took a bow and gestured to his band; then the mood changed as the music shifted into something soft and mellow.

She opened her eyes, her throat tight, knowing what came next. She steeled her heart not to feel, not to share the stark emotions that slid across Ian’s face as he raised the microphone to his lips once again. It was one of his own songs, and one that filled Ellie—and probably every other woman in the hall—with an indescribable longing. He called it, “Lass O’ My Heart.”

“Ah, bonny lass, I dinna know yer name,” he sang, “but someday I will find ye…Ye are my heart, though we have never met… my love forevermore…”

The words swept over Ellie painfully, and when he reached the end of the second verse and slid the mouthpiece of the pipes between his lips like a lover’s tongue, her heart beat faster and she ran her own tongue across her lips. What would it be like, to be the woman of Ian’s dreams? What would it take to capture his heart so completely?

A hush fell over the audience as the haunting melody shuddered through the air, bringing first sighs, and then tears to those who watched and listened.
Leave Ian. She’d have to be crazy.

Just six months ago Ellie’s visa had expired and she’d started packing her bags to leave Scotland, when her sister Maggie told her Ian was looking for an assistant for his upcoming tour. She’d ignored the idea until Ian had shown up on her doorstep, irresistibly adorable, and she’d found herself agreeing to take the job.

The prospect of touring the UK with the hottest Celtic band on the planet—a combination of bagpipes, bodhran, tin whistle, drums, electric fiddle, and electric guitar, not to mention Ian MacGregor—had seemed like a dream come true. And it had been, for a while. For the first few weeks, Ellie thought she’d died and gone to heaven, if she believed in such things.

Ellie had been a natural at her new job, her ability to shut out any and all emotion turning out to be really helpful in the day-to-day machinations of booking the popular band across the UK. It had been a thrill to watch the Scottish lads dazzle their fans and know that she had a large part in making it happen. With Ian as the charismatic lead singer, he and the band had taken the UK and Europe by storm, and now there was talk of a U.S. tour. Ellie would be a fool to turn down the opportunity.

That was the problem. She was a fool.

About a week into the tour she had fallen, flat-out, facedown, slam-bang in love with Ian. She’d hid her mounting frustration, along with her growing love, as best she could, cloaking it with an aloof negativity that generally kept Ian at arm’s length. Before each show they met to go over the details of the gig, but that was thankfully the extent of any personal time she spent with Ian.

Oh, they had traveled together in the tour bus, Ellie hidden behind her book, seemingly oblivious to the playful banter around her; they ate together sometimes, and went to after parties held in his honor. But she was always careful to keep everything professional between them, never personal. Which was hard, because Ian had such an easygoing, flirty, likeable nature. He had made her smile more in the last six months than she had in the last six years.

He was dangerous.

Ellie took a deep breath and tried to slow the pounding of her heart. On the other side of the stage, his current girlfriend – Tiffany? Brittany? Something with a “ee” sound – stood, looking bored and impatient.

One thing about Ian, he had a knack for picking the most vapid, selfish, shallow women for his arm candy, which had helped Ellie harden her heart toward him as the tour continued. The sight of Ian with his arms slung around two European models, or groupies, or actresses, had made her realize, again and again, that her crush on the piper was absolutely ridiculous.

Then, to her horror, Ian had actually turned his attention to her, teasing and flirting with her, insisting on talking to her into the wee hours after a gig, alone in his or her hotel room. He’d even taken her hand at times and kissed it. She’d almost fainted.

Terrified that she would succumb to his charm, Ellie knew she had to switch gears and move from being standoffish to becoming completely cold. Once she’d overheard one of the musicians in the band call her the Ice Queen. At the ripe old age of twenty-four she’d been easing out of the ‘Goth’ persona that had protected her from the world since she was twelve. She’d kept her hair dyed black, if only to keep her separate from her twin, but had mostly given up the layers of black she’d worn through high school and college, and toned down the harsh makeup. But as soon as there was a chance her heart might be in danger, Ellie ran back to the shelter of that disguise as fast as she could.

It was easy to revert. Even easier to send Ian careening for the nearest super model. Clad in her favorite black clothing, black boots, wearing lipstick so dark it looked black, with her dyed black hair and heavily outlined eyes, Ellie knew she looked fairly formidable. Not that Ian knew a war was going on. He’d just shaken his head at her ‘new’ style, and, as she had intended, retreated from the fray. Oh, he was still sweet to her, but the flirting had stopped . . . just in time.

Ian began to sing again and glanced offstage, his face brightening at the sight of her. Then he tossed her that rakish grin she had come to both love and fear, and her face grew warm as she fought to keep from smiling back.

Her fingers tightened in the pocket of the overly large black sweater she wore. A Paper crackled. Her resignation letter was short and concise. It didn’t give away even one little bit of her true feelings. If she let down her walls for one instant, Ian would use that amazing smile and those burning eyes to convince her to stay. She would give in and go on loving him from afar, a little bit of her heart shattering daily like the last note of a faulty pipe. Better to fake disdain than to take such a risk.

The lush, poignant notes skirled from Ian’s pipes as if they had a life of their own, and Ellie clasped her hands together, caught in the magic only Ian could create. Tears threatened to fill her eyes and she took a deep breath and willed them away.

She didn’t cry. She hadn’t cried when her parents died, so she sure wasn’t going to cry over a song, even if this was the last time she would ever see Ian like this -- eyes closed, face radiant, caught in the throes of the love that meant more to him than any woman probably ever could.

Then he opened his eyes and Ellie’s throat tightened. He was looking at her again, his gaze tender as he sang the last lines of the song directly to her.

“And when the lass o’ my heart I find…in the heather soft, in yer arms entwined…I will love ye, lass, ‘till the end of time…”

He held the note, his liquid voice hovering in the air above a dazzled audience as Ellie held her breath, the ache in her chest almost unbearable. Then he turned away, and she felt the loss down to the core of her soul as he sang again to his audience.

“Och, my bonny lass, my bonny lass…oh, the bonny lass o’ my heart…”

The final note filled the auditorium like the swelling breath of an angel, and she drew in another sharp breath as the crowd went crazy and roar filled the auditorium. Ian spread his arms and faced his fans, his eyes closed, as if he would take them all into his arms, if only he could.

Ellie took a step back, feeling stunned. She’d made the right decision. She had to get out while she was still alive.

But everybody has to die sometime, right?

My Soul's Dark Journey into Night -- I mean Rewrites

Hello Fierce Friends,
Bet you thought I had disappeared into the dark void called DEADLINE HELL. Well, you were right. That's exactly where I have been. The thing about writing a book and actually turning it into your publisher is that, well, that's not the end of it.

After 1 - 4 months, your editor calls and tells you everything that's wrong with it and everything you screwed up. Which is good, because no writer worth her salt wants a book to go to press in less than perfect condition, right? This is the time in the process where your editor can tell you what she didn't like about the details over which you have opened a vein nightly.

My editor always has great suggestions and observations, so when she sent me my rewrites, I eagerly read her thoughts. In this case, my editor felt that my characters needed tweaking. After thinking about it, I agreed. They needed a little slapping around by their Creator (me). No problem, I can handle this. And, oh yeah, she doesn’t like the ending. And the rewrites are due back in a week.

Now, let me pause to say that if I had a normal life, this might not be a problem. But I don't. My life is a roller coaster of fast-paced ups and downs, sparks and surprises, the likes of which you have never seen, usually punctuated by sudden crises on the level of a devastating volcanic eruption. So okay, one week.

After informing my editor that there is no way in Hades that I can change the ending in a week, I proceed to spend the next week doing the rewrites. I do not sleep. I do not eat. I do not watch All My Children or The Sarah Conner Chronicles. I write. I agonize. I change my book.

Okay, so the rewrites are finally done, with no loss of life or limb. I send them into my editor. Whew. That's done, right? Ah, not so fast grasshopper. You see, now I must wait with baited breath for the copyedits, which is when my original manuscript is mailed back to me with indescipherable little bits of code written all over the pages in blue or green pencil (as well as suggestions as to how I can make my writing better by implementing some of their word choices and italicized nouns).

I have two weeks to do the copy edits, which is more reasonable, if you have a normal life, which, as I indicated above, I do not. But I plow into it, determined to finish by the deadline. Now, let me pause here and explain that this is only the second book I have written for this publisher, and my previous publisher didn't supply copy edits. At that house, I got rewrites and that was it until the galleys arrived. So, as you can imagine, I was not, shall we say, knowledgeable about how to approach showing the changes in the pages of the manuscript. And unfortunately the MS didn't come back with a manual, just a brief note that said I "could" write on the pages of the manuscript. So I did.

I go without sleep. I go without food. I go without my daily soap. I go without The Sarah Conner Chronicles, Boston Legal, and Big Bang Theory. I am a good girl. 450 pages later, my writing hand is a pretzel, and the copy edits look like the aftermath of Sherman's March to the Sea. (Quick -- how many of you know this historical reference? Who was Sherman? Why did he march? Where was the sea? Why was the sea?) I'm almost finished, and the day before my manuscript is due, I get a call from my editor.

"Remember we talked about changing the ending?" she reminds me. Yeah, that was the change I couldn't do in a week, I remind her. Well, it's gotta be done. But the four days I'm given to REWRITE HALF MY BOOK is not enough time, for some reason that I can't explain.(Maybe it’s just me, I mean, go figure.)

So like any professional, I do what I must. I calmly, maturely, solemnly, call my agent and FREAK OUT!! After listening to my threats to hold the manuscript at gunpoint until I get more time, my agent (actually an angel on special assignment from Heaven) assures me she will help me. And she does, because, luckily for me, that's what she does. She helps me.

I get another week. And so the marathon begins. The new ending involves rewriting major plot points, which retroactively affects earlier parts of the book, and it is a grueling dissection. I feel very much like Dr. Frankenstein when he tried to stitch together different body parts and still end up with a living, breathing human being. Unfortunately, Dr. F ended up with a living, breathing monster, and as I worked all night, every night, (I did sleep a couple of hours a day) I began to fear that my creation would eventually end up being chased by villagers wielding pitchforks too.

Fortunately, this is not the case. Turns out my editor knew what she was talking about. The changes made the book better, stronger, snappier, sexier, and now with less carbs! Not that the woman at the mail stop would believe that. You see, I found out that I was supposed to "insert" major changes (changes of more than a page) into the actual manuscript. So my 450 page manuscript ended up being about 700 pages with all the changes. (Don’t worry – once they take out everything I crossed out, it’ll be back to 450.)

Quick now, for extra credit, does anyone out there know how much it costs to overnight Fed Ex a 10 pound manuscript to New York? In the immortal words of Danny Kaye in White Christmas, the price lies "Somewhere between 'Ouch' and 'BOING'"

As I slathered the outside of the box containing my precious manuscript with tape, the woman who worked at the mail place assured me that I didn't need to do that. She had placed one strip of tape across the top and one across the bottom, and that, she told me, would hold it "just fine".

I had the sudden mental image of my package being tossed between two husky Fed Ex guys and one of them fumbling the catch. The box hits the ground, bursts, (due to a lack of tape) and the pages of my manuscript are scattered across the floor of the Fed Ex receiving center in St. Louis, Missouri. The two guys are scrambling to pick up all the papers, when suddenly, the huge door at the end of the warehouse-like building begins to open. The two Fed Ex guys freeze as beams of sunlight shoot into their dark little piece of personal hell, and a tiny breath of air touches the edge of one paper. Then another. Then--whoops--it's a Midwest twister, whaddaya know, and it sweeps into the warehouse, picks up the pages of my manuscript (and the Fed Ex guys) and carries them out the doorway and into oblivion.

I turn back to the mail lady with a grim smile. "I'll feel better with a little more tape," I tell her. She smirks. I resist the urge to deck her. Instead, I concentrate on making sure the box containing my masterpiece is more secure than Mona Lisa in the Louvre. It's done. I breathe a sigh of relief, and then bite my lip as the smirky woman takes the package from me and tosses it into a bin where other, lesser taped boxes reside.

I walk out the door and blink. The sun is shining. There's a nice breeze. Not a twister in sight. My book is finished. I can live again. I go home. I begin to breathe, slow, deep breaths that fill my lungs. A tentative smile crosses my face. I open my laptop and check my email, just for fun, you know? Nothing pressing anymore. Oh, look, there's an email from my editor.

"Dear Tess," it reads. "Got the manuscript. Thanks so much. When will you have the next book finished?"

I stare at the computer. Slowly I log out of my email. I shut down my laptop. I close it. I pick up the remote control to the TV. I turn on my Tivo. 5 unwatched episodes of The Sarah Conner Chronicles. I click the remote. Sarah Conner is kicking some Terminator butt. I smile.

**If you would like to make Tess Mallory's Painful Journey Toward The Completion of HIGHLAND REBEL all worthwhile (she does it all for you!) help her become a best-selling author by pre-ordering her newest book at amazon.com **

Don't Get Me Riled Up, Y'all

Hi Fierce Friends!
Well, last weekend I attended an awesome SF/F literary conference in Austin, Texas, where I sat on two panels, one for Paranormal Romance, and one about Vampires. They were both a lot of fun. What's amazing is that this conference, which started in 1978, has now included Paranormal Romance in their line-up! To be honest, SF/F conferences are a little, shall we say, a little snobbish when it comes to anything related to the romance genre. So I was thrilled to see they were opening their minds a little to this sub-genre (can something this big even be called SUB anymore?) this year. However, on one of the panels a reference was made to romance that I have heard a million times, but that still upsets me. It was the term, "bodice rippers".

Now, back in the 70s, when romances first started taking off as a genre, there really were such things as '"bodice rippers". Some of Kathleen Woodiwiss and Rosemary Rogers are good examples of this kind of "rape fantasy" romance that was so popular at this time. Of course, I have to also say that those books were extraordinary, even if they did feature women who allowed men to dominate their lives, at least sexually. However, tihngs began to change, probably in the early 90s, maybe earlier, when wimpy heroines became a thing of the past, and while Alpha males are still popular, the heroine now gives as good as she takes in rough and tumble relationships. The hero/heroines in romance have definitely changed.

Now if someone has this opinion (that all romances are bodice rippers) and they read romances, then I would have to respect that, (while I would still question it) however, my experience has been that people who say this do NOT read romances, at least not present day romances. It's amazing to me that someone can disparage an entire genre without reading it. I would never make a disparaging remark about a genre I had never read, but it happens all the time with romance.

So did I vent my ire at the con? Nope. I tried to be nice, I hope that I was. This person was entitled to her opinion, even if it was coming from an uninformed position. But I did point out that "bodice rippers"were from the 70s, and not relevant to today's romances. The person insisted that they were still the same. I said, "I disagree." I did say that romances are like any other genre -- there are good authors and not-so-good authors. Some romances are not that great. Some are amazing. It just depends on who you're reading. In my own humble opinion. One thing for sure -- romances make up the largest sales in paperback books of ANY genre! So there! :)

But I did have a great time, and appreciated the people on the panels who DID have open minds. One of them was Cynthia Leitich Smith, a YA author who loves paranormal romances and wrote to tell me so! So thanks, Cyn! Check out her website, ya'll!

Okay, this was sort of a vent blog, but I guess the real underlying message here is: If you meet me somewhere, please don't call romances bodice rippers! :)

Cheers ! And Keep Writing!