This week's Monday Pick Me Up winner is Catherine Bybee.
Sandy -- email me directly please.
~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com
Seduction's Stakes ExcerptStumped, he led Mister Spoilsport back into his stall, threw him some more hay, refilled his water bucket, and stared down at the end of the shed row where Maddie and Archie looked like they were saying their goodbyes. She bounced her keys in her hand and kept backing away despite their conversation.
Why was Archie staying with the horse? Where was her groom?
“Scott?” he called to the young man mucking out Jumpin Jess’ stall.
The boy poked his head out of the stall. “Yeah, Boss?”
“I’ve got some business to take care of with Miss McCleery. Go down there, and offer your services to Archie. That man’s too old to be bedding down with horses.”
For a moment, Scott looked like Riley had just asked him to put a saddle on backwards. But he snapped his slack jaw shut and narrowed his widened eyes as he cleared his throat. He bobbed his head. “Sure thing.”
Riley knew Archie wouldn’t accept. He’d sleep near the horse out of devotion and duty. Just as Riley would have if Scott weren’t with him. Still, it made Riley feel a little better about seeing a respected trainer sleeping in a stall, to know he’d offered.
As Maddie backed farther away, Riley jogged down the row after her. Behind him, Scott’s boots crunched against the fine gravel. Passing Archie, Riley tossed the esteemed trainer an acknowledging nod and hurried on into the parking area. “Maddie?” he called out.
She stopped, but it took her a moment to turn around, as if she debated whether she would or not.
Scared rabbit, he mused.
When she did turn to face him, her bright smile sent whatever he’d planned on saying into oblivion. It went straight to his gut, turning it over on itself. “Where’s your groom?” he managed. Brilliant. Yet another stupid question that made his inability to think entirely too obvious. What was it about this woman that erased his ability to function beyond cave-man intellect?
Her puzzled expression said she hadn’t anticipated that question either. With a slight frown she answered, “He’s flying in tomorrow. He had some things to take care of.”
Riley slowed to a stop less than a foot in front of her and shoved a hand in his jeans pocket, doing his best to appear casual. “Archie’s staying with your horse then?”
She nodded.
“Why don’t you let me take you to your hotel. Leave Archie your truck in case he gets cold out here. He’s too old to be sleeping in barns.” Better. His voice sounded indifferent, almost confident, to his ears.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. With a little laugh, her gaze skated across the narrow alley to her truck. When she looked back at him, her eyes flickered with apprehension. He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her answer.
“Ah,” she stammered.
He’d have laughed if she didn’t look so damned cute gnawing on her lower lip. As it was, the nervous gesture only reminded him of what a delightful little mouth she had. His gaze fastened on it as he added, “I’ll bring you back in the morning.”
She shook her head. “I better not. I’m not so friendly in the mornings, and I have to pick up my groom and Sybil at the airport, first thing.”
A grin tugged at his mouth as a chuckle threatened to escape. She’d been pleasant enough the other morning, but he sensed she wouldn’t be glad he pointed it out. “You don’t have to say a word to me in the morning,” he coaxed. “I’ll bring coffee, and we can pick them up together.”
Her gaze fell to her hands, and she turned her keys over, and over, studying them.
Convinced she’d find yet another reason to refuse him, he goaded, “C’mon now, Maddie. You aren’t afraid of a six mile truck ride with me, are you?”
Check back Monday to win a digital copy of Seduction’s Stakes!
~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com
Also starting a new Monday routine – Contests. They won’t always be for a book. But this week we’ll start there. And we’ll make this one super easy.
The Prize:
A .pdf copy of Misunderstanding Mason
The Game:
All you have to do is leave a comment below. Names will be entered into a hat. My eldest demi-demon will select one, and I’ll post the winner here in the comments section tomorrow morning. That person will need to email me to receive his/her prize.
~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com
Tormented by DarknessInherited Damnation, Book II
Cursed by her incubus father centuries ago, the last thing Rhiannon McLaine wants is to fall in love.
The night she delivers flowers to detective Mick Farrell, however, everything changes. Deep-seated attraction flares into untamed passion. In the morning, Rhiannon awakens to find she’s lost her heart. Now, unless she can convince Mick of her secret past, she’s destined to take his life.
When Rhiannon asks Mick to go camping with her, instinct warns him to refuse. Though he hungers for her love and the goodness she represents, he’ll do anything to keep her from discovering the darkness within his soul. Yet a weekend in the woods is the perfect place to indulge in temporary desire…until he finds himself bound against his will.
Surrounded by ancient Celtic rites and magic, can Mick see beyond Rhiannon’s duplicity and recognize her love? Or will the revelation of her true demonic nature doom Rhiannon to a mortal life alone?
Tormented by Darkness will release on December 7, 2011.
~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com
Welcome, everyone, to your Thursday installment of Voices to Pay Attention To!
This week, I'm bringing you someone I've worked closely with over the years, a mentor in many ways, and someone who is an absolute treat to call friend. She's past-president of Heartland Romance Writers, she works her tail off in her real life, and even when life throws her curveballs she always manages to make someone laugh.
Welcome, G. Aliceson Edwards
What were some of your first experiences with writing?
GAE: You sometimes hear the term, “It came to me as natural as breathing.” That’s what the art of storytelling in both the verbal and written forms are to me. I was raised in a small rural community in a town that featured two main streets, no stop signs, and could be cut off from most of the rest of world if the creek was out. My teachers in the art of storytelling were my “sly as a fox” overall-wearing family members and the men who sat on benches outside the feedstore or bank that you passed by on your way to the post office or grocery store for your free candy bar. Our town never had much true excitement. Somebody’s new truck or relatives from out of town, or the burning of a barn were our town’s big events and they had to be presented in such a way as to spellbind the listener. And I was. Spellbound.
I must stop here. Everybody back up and reread that paragraph. In one brief introduction, she's painted an incredible visual. If I could write like that...
I hate you, G. :)
Why did you decide to become a writer, yourself?
GAE: My childhood dream was to become a reporter and travel the world. However, when I reached the age to do this I was married with two small children. Instead I became an English, Speech, and Theatre teacher in the public school. I loved this profession because it enabled me to use my storytelling abilities to travel the world with my students through literature.
I will be around fifty when I can retire from teaching. I want to find a career allowing me to continue working with books and literature. I thought of writing.
I have always loved the art of writing. Like other true writers I have dabbled throughout the years. I have the requisite old notebook with my first and only handwritten romance novel. You know the kind where love burgeons between the “handsome, displaced corporate city dweller” who finds he cares for the “raised in the country and proud of it” school teacher. Did their romance make it? Yes, right under my bed in a storage box never to see the light of day again.
But I have been writing some works during my years as a teacher. Homecoming skits galore and plays for my students to perform. I even went through the “angry at the world” blogger phase, published a more entertaining travel blog about my trip to England, as well as, maintaining a blog to keep my bi-costal family up to date with pictures and written summations of our lives here in Missouri.
One day with retirement options still looming I realized I had to commit to writing if there was to be a future in it for me, so I searched online, found a local writing group, and resolved to attend a meeting.
Then what happened?
I sat in the car in the parking lot the day of the first meeting as I tried to convince myself to go inside. Yes, I can face down over a hundred eighth graders daily and work in a job never fails to get this response, “You couldn’t pay me to do what you do!”, but I very nearly drove away those big, bad writers!
Finally I shakily gathered myself together and went in the building to my first meeting. How relieved I was to find friendly and welcoming people who were willing to share their knowledge on writing craft and publication. Then I went to another meeting and another and starting working with some critique groups.
That floors me, G. Of all the people I know, I never would have thought you were that worried... I'm so glad you've become a leader for the rest of us.
Other than getting in the building the first day, what were some of your other challenges or successes?
GAE: The all too real specter of self-doubt has been my greatest nemesis. I am very self-assured in my work and with my family, but I suffered terribly from fear that I was not a good writer. Additionally, I think I was typical of new writers in that I wasn’t too patient with myself as I was learning the process.
I also had to learn to say “no” to protect my writing time. I still struggle with the demands of my life interfering with the joys of my writing.
I consider the opportunity to travel to conferences over the past years to have been tremendous boost to my personal motivation and to my writing abilities. Once I meet actually my favorite authors at conferences and get over my fangirl hyperventilating, I have found authors to be very helpful to the novice writer.
Yes, they are. Many were to me, and that still amazes me so many people with so many obligations were willing to listen to a newbie.
What do you write?
GAE: After trying unsuccessfully to write a humorous suspense novel, I decided to tackle what I know best-The Young Adult market. After twenty six years in the classroom, I know what students want in a book and do not want. Recently there was the focus on paranormal and fantasy, but I have noticed more and more students are interested in mystery or suspense novels. This genre has always been a favorite of mine since I read Lois Duncan’s Down a Dark Hall in fifth grade. I still read quite a bit of this genre and recommend books to my students frequently.
The book I have out on submission is a middle grades/young adult thriller, Mirror Images, based on the life of Marty Jamison, who along with his twin brother Max and his girlfriend Kayla, is simply trying survive high school. The lives of these teenagers prove the point that being young is much more stressful than adults remember. They are dealing with death and desertion and alcoholism and the true minefield of the teen years…Dating! When a serial killer begins drowning the little girls of the town and one of these three characters is accused of the crimes, loyalties are tested and hard choices have to be made.
One unique technique I have used is to start each chapter with a short except of what is going on in the killer’s mind or testimony from other individuals about the crimes. These excerpts give insights and foreshadow upcoming events. I have seen this technique used before and it heightens the reader’s need to keep going forward in the book.
Sounds interesting--really very interesting. Well, actually, considering I've read some of it, it's terribly interesting and the tactic works wonderfully. Could you share an example?
GAE: Sure. This is how Mirror Images begins.
This one was harder to kill than the others. You would think a skinny little second grader wouldn’t be so hard to drown. I mean really! The other ones it was just hit ‘em in the head with a rock, smear a little blood, on the pool’s edge, and then roll ‘em in the water.
None of this fighting to the top stuff. And I can’t be waiting around forever. Sun’s coming up and I need to get home before I’m missed.
Time to take the plunge. Literally.
That IS intense, but what would you say to parents who might object to such a dark subject as serial killings?
GAE: I would say parents have every right to object to any book topic for their own child. I consider it to be the responsibility of every parent to review what their child reads. If they feel my novel is not appropriate for their child, then take it away from them.
However, I would also point out that my novel, Mirror Images, doesn’t glorify the serial killer. I wanted this novel to help the teens who do read it to realize that even though they are sometimes thrust into difficult situations not of their own making, they ARE able to make choices.
Sound advice, and really the truth of teen-life. So many get caught up in not standing on their own two feet. It's great to have someone bringing that to the forefront of YA Minds.
What are you working on now?
GAE: I am currently researching and plotting for my next YA work tentatively called, Pretty Little Monsters. In it a group of students are learning to deal with a variety of tragedies that have left them with missing body parts, disfiguring scars, or other visibly transforming illnesses.
I got the idea from my own students who have had to learn to live with unplanned and unpleasant transformations that have left them struggling to find their place in a group of people who focus on having perfect bodies. I hope I find a way to communicate some the inner courage I have seen these students exhibit over the last twenty six years. Many of these students could have given up, but instead, chose to live useful, vibrant and happy lives.
Another focus for me right now is setting up some writing events for both students and adults to help support them achieve their writing goals for next month’s Nanowrimo contest. People can check out a free joint writing and creativity event my colleague, Julie Brunner, and I have planned at my blog, http://thewritewaygalicesonedwards.blogspot.com
NaNoWriMo is an excellent opportunity to feed the creative mind and inspire authors. Excellent job, G.
Finally, what is your favorite part about being an author?
GAE: I would have to go back to a quote I often hear in conjunction with teaching. It involves the idea that people touch more lives than we ever realize. To me, this is what books do. Everything I read is an example of how someone had an idea and put it into words to share with others. Then someone shared those words with others or used it for a basis to write their own words. That exchange of and building of ideas is what makes me spend hours in my recliner, dressed in my pajamas, glass of tea at my side, and computer on my lap. I want to continue to touch the lives of those around me, and being an author gives me that opportunity every time I tap the keys.
I love that--once again you've inspired me.
Thank you so much, G., for stopping in and talking to us about YA, about your projects, and sharing your insight. Do come back when Mirror Images is published!
~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com
I’m starting a new event on Tuesdays – Teaser Tuesday. For the most part, it will be excerpted bits from my novels. But now and then I’ll change things up just to keep it interesting.
And, since Misunderstanding Mason has been received so well, I thought I’d start there.
Misunderstanding Mason ExcerptAt ten fifteen the next morning, Kirstin stumbled through the damp grass to her—make that to Mason’s—back patio door. It stood open, the heavy scent of bacon grease and fried eggs wafting out to blend with the lingering chill that drifted off the nearby lake. Her stomach rumbled.
She pushed the door open and fled the cool morning air. The last thing she expected to see, however, was Mason still at the skillet, dressed in only his boxer-briefs, his hair as disheveled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. For him, ten-fifteen was going on lunchtime. He was up and moving like clockwork, at five, even on the weekends. By the time she found the ability to confront morning, he’d taken a run around the lake, showered, and managed to crank out three good hours of design.
He glanced over his shoulder at the same time he flipped an egg. “Morning.” He gestured at the coffee pot with his head. “It’s fresh.”
Doing her best to ignore the broad expanse of his muscular shoulders and the way jersey cotton
hugged his tight butt, Kirstin trudged to the coffeepot. She plucked a mug off the cup-tree in the
corner and filled it to the brim. Slowly, she turned around, sipping the piping hot brew as she leaned against the countertop. Her gaze traveled over Mason’s backside, untamed butterflies stirring in her stomach.
The last time she’d been up for his definition of breakfast had been in that tiny apartment. She’d
forgotten how simply amazing he looked in the morning. How incredibly nice it was to wake up to the flutter of her heart when she realized she’d succeeded where no other woman had. She won Mason. Without even really trying. They’d met through a friend, and from the night he phoned to ask her out a week later, they’d fallen into each other naturally. Yet, it had never failed to make her pulse skip when she stopped to acknowledge plenty of other women had flitted through his life, bending over backwards to convince him to stick around.
She’d been lucky. He stuck for five years. Five incredible, frustrating years.
Realizing she was staring, and he couldn’t possibly be ignorant to that fact, she cleared the
cobwebs of sleep from her throat. “You’re quiet.”
He tossed her a lazy grin and gestured at her coffee cup with the spatula. “How many is that this
morning?”
Her brow furrowed. “My first. Why?”
“Your inner bear doesn’t sleep until after two.”
Was she really that bad in the mornings? She’d never enjoyed getting up, true. But by the time she had coffee in-hand, she was usually sociable as long as it wasn’t some ungodly hour of morning.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled as she took another sip.
“You’re better after two.” Turning, he passed her a plate filled with two eggs, wheat toast, and three slices of bacon. “And even better with something in your stomach.”
Kirstin blinked. Uncertain what to make of that remark, she accepted his offered breakfast and moved to sit at the small table near the wide bay window. Did it really take two cups of coffee to shed her morning grumpiness? How could Mason know that, if she’d never stopped to count?
Keeping with his conviction of silence, he joined her at the table and took the seat across. As he dunked one corner of his toast in his coffee, he used his free hand to spread open the morning paper.
While he read, absorbed in the business headlines, she picked up her fork and stabbed into her eggs. Gooey yolk spread over her plate—heaven. Three bites and the cramping in her stomach eased enough she didn’t feel the need to shovel in food. She looked up through her eyelashes and studied the lines in Mason’s face.
Fine wrinkles set in around his eyes, the only hint he’d turn thirty-five this year. Grey hadn’t set into his dark hair, and though stubble shadowed his chin, his face still held boyish youth. He looked tired.
Probably up late working on some new game.
Typical Mason.
With a soft sigh, she scooped up another bite. This time, when the flavor soaked into her tongue, she stopped chewing at the subtle taste of garlic. Her mouth watered in an instant. Eggs without garlic just weren’t eggs. They were poor substitutes, flat and otherwise unexciting.
That Mason still knew how she preferred her eggs despite the fact they hadn’t shared breakfast in years, wasn’t lost on her. The discovery ranked right up there with his comment about the recliner—and caused the same uncomfortable tightness around her lungs. In one hasty gulp, she downed the rest of her coffee and scooted out of the chair to refill her mug.
Mason didn’t notice when she bought new clothes, but he remembered how she liked eggs. Weird. Too weird.
“Mason?”
The paper rustled. “Hmm?”
“What’s my favorite color?”
~~~~~~
~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com
"Victorians used the term 'limbs' as a euphenism for legs, which were thought to be so sexually exciting to a man, even a glimpse of a table leg could incite him to sexual frenzy. Table skirts were invented to prevent any unnatural unions between men and furniture."
~(History Channel International)



























