Monday, June 28, 2010

Please welcome author Caroline Clemmons

Hello, and welcome to my blog, Caroline. Please tell us a little about you.


As long as I can remember, I've made up adventures. Okay, I admit the early creative stories featured me riding the range with Roy Rogers and Dale Evans and saving the West. What a disappointment to learn that Roy was exclusively committed to Dale! Eventually, my best friend from across the street and I decided to become better detectives than Nancy Drew. We drove our parents and neighbors crazy sticking our pert little noses where they didn't belong. About that time I started writing down my adventures, but mostly I was a reader. Not until I read Nora Roberts' early novels did I decide to create my own romance manuscripts. My road to publishing was a lot slower than Nora's was. No surprise there! I still read Nora's books—as well as those of countless other authors—but now I write full time. Unless life interferes, that is.

My Hero and I live one a small acreage in the ranching and horse country of North Central Texas. Our two daughters are grown, and supportive of my writing. Living with Hero and me now are Webster, our sweet black Shih Tzu, and our two shorthaired cats: Sebastian, a black and white tuxedo who thinks he's our watchcat; and Bailey Erin, a shy apricot tabby. When I'm not writing, I love spending time with family, reading, traveling with Hero, browsing antique malls, and digging into family history and genealogy. I also love garage and estate sales, but have to ration myself—we only have so much room and I think we've filled our home until the walls are bulging. Writing about strong heroes and heroines who overcome amazing obstacles to forge a meaningful life together is my passion. I hope you'll share my stories with me.

Very interesting. It sounds like you've got your hands full with plenty of great things, and your writing sounds like something many people could relate to and enjoy. Now please give us a taste of your book Out of the Blue.


Deirdre Dougherty never cursed at anyone, much less put a curse on the potato crop of her remote Irish village. She’d rather take her chances with the Atlantic lapping at the bottom of the cliff than the mob intent on burning her as they have her cottage. Deirdre leaps . . . and plops down over 160 years later in a Texas lake. She doesn’t understand how she’s ended up with the man from her recent visions or why he has the same name as the saint to whom she prayed. She’s in danger of falling for the handsome policeman who rescued her, in spite of the fact that he thinks she’s lying to him. How can she convince him her story is true when she’s finding it difficult to believe the tale herself?

Police Detective Brendan Hunter wants answers. Who shot him and killed his partner? Why? And why does Deirdre know details of the event? Her story has to be a colossal fabrication or else she’s a beautiful psycho. Either way, he wants her gone before he becomes even more fascinated with her. But he can’t let her out of his sight until she confesses to how she learned details no one but he and his late partner knew.

Thank you, and now an excerpt. :)
Standing at the cliff’s edge, Deirdre trembled and fought the terror washing through her. Something horrible was wrong. “Everything is different. Are you sure your boat was below here? Mayhap it was another cliff.”
His hands firm and insistent, Brendan pointed. “See those kids playing across there, near that dock? That’s the Boy Scout camp at Johnson Bend. Look to your right on this side of the shore, there’s Mom’s house at that point of land. Do you recognize it and my boat tied up at the dock?”
She took a deep breath and tried to speak. Her heart pounded in her ears. How could everything have changed?
Her words, when she found her voice, rasped out in a hoarse whisper “Yes, I . . . I see . . . the house.”
Merciful heaven, what had happened? Her legs threatened to give way again and she gripped Blossom’s arm for support. “Is the land we’re standing on Hell’s Gate?”
Behind them, Jim answered, “Been called that for over a-hundred-and-fifty years, ever since Comanche Indians caught those two trappers here.”
Talk of Indians and trappers made her head whirl more. She needed to sit down but she turned slowly again and searched for anything familiar. “D-Do you know which way Ballymish is from here?”
The sheriff’s man frowned. “Never heard of it.”

Nice. To purchase Out of the Blue, click here

I love your covers. Out of the Blue is available now, and The Texan's Irish Bride is coming out on September 3.

Well, I enjoyed having you here at my blog. Good luck with your writing!

Friday, June 11, 2010

Goddess Fish tour: Please welcome author Madelyn Ford

I'd like to give a warm welcome to author Madelyn Ford, author of My Avenging Angel. It's available with Samhain Publishing. I asked Madelyn to discuss her research and the paranormal. She had some interesting things to say:

Ohh, the dreaded research. Some people love it. Some hate it. And I must admit, I fall into the love category. I could spend hours shifting through the web for information. Ha! What do I mean could? I have, looking for just the right sword or the perfect name.
With my series at Loose Id about a faction of fallen angels called the Grigori, I spent hours researching virtues, just so I could find the perfect names for my heroines. And weapons, I love anything sharp and pointy (guess I’m like some of my characters in that way :) so I spent some time finding the perfect ones for each character.

When it comes to angels, there is a wealth of information out there. Not only have I made excellent use of the web, but I also purchased several excellent books on them. One in particular, A Dictionary of Angels by Gustav Davidson, is a particular favorite.
I tend to stay more biblical when it comes to my view of angels, you know, that whole smite you thing that tends to happen, especially in the earlier texts. They are warriors, first and foremost, and their greatest enemy is, of course, Lucifer.

My array of demons is quite broad, and these I took from many different places. Some are Greek in origin, others from a variety of European folklore. They are usually quite gruesome and rather destructive, but I have to say, in some ways, piecing together these different myths to fit my vision has been rather fun.

With such an extensive array of paranormal romance out there, it can be difficult to make your work stand out. But all it takes is that one Aha moment, when you come across that perfect little tidbit of information, to make your day. And when you have the final product, your finished manuscript, the hours you spend researching will all be worth it.

My Avenging Angel blurb:

To save her life, he must break a covenant—and lose his heart.
An Angels and Demons story.

It’s Victoria Bloom’s twenty-fifth birthday. But is she out celebrating? Oh, no. She’s in a stuffy old attic with the Three Stooges—a.k.a. her so-called spirit guides. There’s a demon who wants her dead, the same one that killed her mother two decades ago. No worries, say the Stooges. All she has to do is summon an angel. What could go wrong?

Well, plenty when you summon the wrong angel. The next thing Tory knows, she’s got one very bad-ass, pissed-off and sexy Archangel on her hands.

Michael, mighty warrior, leader of an elite team of demon killers, is shaking in his heavenly combat boots. Not because he finds all humans distasteful. But because he’d rather face Lucifer himself than the woman his soul has just recognized as his mate. Binding himself to a mortal, one who will eventually die, is the one path he’s sworn never to follow.

It’s too late now; his fate is sealed. With one touch, she becomes as necessary to him as the air he breathes. He will move heaven and earth to protect her—but against a demon as powerful as Asmodeus, heaven and earth may not be enough…
Warning: This book contains one bad-ass Archangel with a fiery, um, sword, a witch who blows things up, one nasty demon who is trying to kill them both, and ghosts who make interfering their mission. Steamy sex is had, even with the voyeur ghosts—though Tory is still blushing.

Striding through the maze of intricate passageways, Michael wrestled to get his temper under control. He was leader of the Powers, an elite group of warriors originally formed to police their own kind but whose sole purpose was now hunting down and terminating those who joined Lucifer’s ranks. He should have been immune to the trappings of humans. Or so he would have liked to believe. It was a valuable lesson born home by a tiny blonde he could have crushed with his bare hands if he’d been inclined. But he hadn’t and it just pissed him off.

Instead, the need to draw her into his arms had slammed him in the chest. For the briefest moment, he’d actually felt his soul reach for hers. Michael had stopped that shit almost immediately. He’d seen what mating with a human had done to Gabriel. The death of Ariadne Duchesne had damn near destroyed him. In the four hundred years since she’d been slain, he and Gabriel had spoken maybe a couple dozen words and those had all been laced with hostility. At least from Gabriel’s end. He blamed Michael for her death. It was why Michael had agreed to help the human. He wanted to make amends. Not because she made his dick harder than a spike and his soul cry with need.
“Big of you to grace us with your presence.”

Michael folded his arms across his chest and arched a brow at his second in command, hardly amused by Zadkiel’s sardonic drawl. Never mind Zadkiel had been the one Tory had been trying to summon. Tory… Best to forget about her with all that luscious blonde hair smelling of lilacs.

Shit. If he got a hard-on Zadkiel would never let him live it down.
“Maybe if you’d had something of interest to impart, I’d have stuck around.”
“How’s this, lord asshole? A report has come in from Skath. A witch managed to scry upon one of Lucifer’s high-ranking lieutenants.”

“Who?” Michael demanded, letting the asshole comment slide because when Lucifer’s name was uttered in his presence, the rage flooding his system usually prevented him from concentrating on anything else. The knife his once best friend had quite literally embedded in his back was not something Michael had ever thought he would forget. Until today. Today the all-encompassing fury was replaced with something feeling suspiciously like fear.

Zadkiel cocked his head to the side, studying Michael for a moment and holding his breath. Michael waited for the smart-ass comment that never came.

“Asmodeus. He’s somewhere in the Houston area.”

As the air rushed from his lungs, Michael nodded, glancing away. If Asmodeus was in Houston he was far from Boston and Tory. “Gather a team and keep me informed. I want to know every move he makes before the bastard makes it.”

“Michael, what’s going on?”

Michael had turned to leave, wanting to gather a few things from his room before he returned to Tory, but Zadkiel’s quiet question stopped him in his tracks. He sighed. It wasn’t like he was particularly surprised. He didn’t usually get involved in the hunt unless it was for one of the top-ten ruling archdemons. He commanded and his lieutenants followed. It was how things had worked before Ariadne had pulled him into this mess. Before Tory.

Buy Link

Madelyn is available for interviews and guest blogs. She will be giving away a $15 Amazon gift certificate to one randomly drawn commenter from the blog stops on her tour. (NOTE: To enter, leave a comment on her blog stops, including this one, with your email--enter at every stop each day to earn more entries!)
Blog Stops
Thanks so much, Madelyn, for being my guest here. :) Best wishes with your book!

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Thursday 13

Thursday 13
Hello, for Thursday 13, I'd like to list 13 things invented by women.
Dishwasher Josephine Cochran 1872
Elevated railway Mary Walton 1881
Engine muffler El Dorado Jones 1917
Fire escape Anna Connelly 1887
Life raft Maria Beaseley 1882
Medical syringe Letitia Geer 1899
Paper-bag-making machine Margaret Knight 1871
Rolling pin Catherine Deiner 1891
Rotary engine Margaret Knight 1904
Submarine lamp and telescope Sarah Mather 1845
Windshield wiper Mary Anderson 1903
Alphabet blocks Adeline D. T. Whitney 1882
Circular saw Tabitha Babbitt 1812