Visit with Mary Gillgannon today and find out what she loves about writing, her favorite places to travel and her new book, Wicked Wager.

She is also participating in 
two giveaways: One is for a shamrock solar lantern to be given away at the end of the month: https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/91181bf930/?


The other is for a $500 gift certificate, to be given away on June 21st: :https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/91181bf929/?


There are three options to enter. Good luck!!
               * * *

Mary G: When I began writing romances, they were set in the dark age and medieval eras. I loved the intensity, the “life and death” stakes playing out in these time periods. Later on, after reading several Regency romances, I realized that the stakes for people in this era, even though there was less violence, were pretty intense as well. The lives of women of the Regency era (and, alas, most eras of history), were defined by who they married. It was the only thing that mattered, the only way to improve your circumstances.

Because of this, love wasn’t really a focus. Young men and women met each other during the “season” in the London “marriage mart”. It was all a complex game of prestige and wealth and beauty. But that’s no fun for us romantic sorts. So, starting with Jane Austen, we’ve added the wild card of romance to the equation.

Which is the perfect introduction to Wicked Wager, a book that focuses on both gambling and romance.

Excerpt:

 He might have known she’d take hours, Marcus thought with irritation as he waited in the drawing room. Offer to take a woman somewhere, and she fussed and fiddled half the day. He’d thought Penny was more practical than that, but it appeared she was as tardy as other members of her sex. A pity if she’d already been corrupted by Madame Dubonet and lost that ingenuous charm of hers. He rather liked the grubby hoyden he’d met in the drive of Horngate. She’d been a delightful change from the coy, manipulative women of the ton.

He paced across to the window to check on the phaeton and team. Hearing a faint sound, he turned.

For a moment, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His gaze moved down Penny’s slender form, then returned to the expanse of lush creamy flesh exposed by the low neckline of her dress. He swallowed hard, then choked out, “What the devil are you wearing?”

She gave him an innocent smile. “It’s my new daydress. Do you like it?”

Gone was the sweetly pretty young miss he’d brought to London. She’d been transformed into a sensual, sophisticated, breathtaking… goddess. It wasn’t merely the sumptuous décolletage the gown revealed, but the color of the fabric. Some subtle shade of pink that made her look edible. He longed to kiss and lick and nibble every inch of the silken, creamy skin the garment exposed.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on Penny’s face. “The dress is very fashionable, I’m certain. But if you don’t want to catch a chill, you’d best put on your pelisse.”

Penny hurried to do as he suggested. Despite having carefully planned this moment, when it actually came time to appear before Revington in the skimpy gown, she’d experienced an attack of nerves. It had taken all her willpower to walk boldly into the drawing room, despite feeling half-naked.

Revington’s expression had turned quite strange, almost savage. But then a moment later, his normal reserve had prevailed and he’d carried on in his usual impatient style.

She put on her pelisse and started for the door. Then she remembered the other part of her plan. Turning, she said, “I wondered if rather than driving today, you could have footman take the reins and sit in the carriage with me. That way you’ll be able to tell me about the sights as we travel through the city.”

Seeing a muscle twitch in his jaw, she wondered whether he disliked the thought of spending time with her. Too bad, she thought stubbornly. For her plan to work, she needed to force him into close proximity.
                                         * * *
Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/ B00VU8L64K

Barnes and Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wicked-wager-mary-gillgannon/1121799505?ean=2940151266314

The Wild Rose Press: http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=195&products_id=6209

Mary Gillgannon writes historical and paranormal romance and fantasy. She’s worked in a public library for over twenty-five years and as part of her job, has the enviable task of ordering fiction. She’s married and has two children. Now that they’re grown, she indulges her nurturing tendencies on four very spoiled cats and a moderately spoiled dog. When not working or writing, she enjoys gardening—a real challenge in Wyoming—reading and travel. She loves history, which may explain why her favorite places to visit are Ireland and Wales.

Links:

Website:  http://marygillgannon.com

Blog: http://marygillgannon.blogspot.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/mary.gillgannon

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/MaryGillgannon

Enjoy an excerpt and added bonus feature from Wareeze Woodson's romantic Regency suspense novel, An Enduring Love.
http://buff.ly/1qqyBSe

Cover blurb:

Born and raised in Latvia, Rebecca Balodis marries Rhys Sudduth, an English diplomat. Shortly thereafter, he is summoned home to attend his father’s death-bed. Rebecca cannot accompany him at the time and becomes trapped in the turmoil plaguing her country. He is informed she died in the upheaval. 

Nearly four years later, she escapes and arrives in London with their son in tow. Arriving in the middle of his sister’s ball is very awkward, especially since Rhys plans to announce his betrothal to a young debutante later in the evening.

Trouble, suspense and danger, follow her from Latvia. Can this pair ever find or even recognize an enduring love? Is it worth keeping?

Excerpt:

A liveried butler, stern of countenance and standing stiffly erect opened the door. “Your invitation, Ma’am.”

Rebecca trembled, but forced out, “Surely, I don’t need an invitation. Please inform Lord Rhys that his wife is here.”

Astonishment flashed across the butler’s face before he bowed his head and nodded for her to follow him. Sonja was seated in the hall while he led Rebecca to a small parlor papered with stripes of ivory and cream. The entire room seemed a little intimidating, with an elaborate sofa covered with gold brocade sitting before a wide window. Chairs were shattered about the room as well, but the beauty of the room did little to sooth her nerves. She glanced at the low table in front of the sofa then let her gaze shift to the fireplace, glowing with warmth. The softly burning coals added soothing comfort to the room and with that, her whole body relaxed.

After the butler exited, Rebecca quickly knelt down to straighten Johnnie’s apparel. “We want to look our best mans maz cilveku, my little man. You must learn English better now we are home. They are not expecting us, but no matter. Your father will love you.”

The door opened and Rhys stood on the threshold with a scowl of impatience on his face, speaking to the butler over his shoulder. “Some strumpet masquerading as my deceased wife. Be damned. You’re positive she said, my wife. Not a long lost relative wanting to sponge…?”

 Rebecca jumped to her feet, took Johnnie by the hand and pasted a trembling smile on her lips. “Rhys.”
                                        
                                           * * *
                                                 
An Added Bonus Feature!

Letters discovered in the belongings of the villain. These letters are not revealed in the book but are held in my heart and give insight to the story. A tidbit solely for you. Enjoy.
                                              Wareeze Woodson


The Year of Our Lord 1813

My Dearest Husband,

I write with my heart filled with sorrow. My beloved mother has passed on to join my father in Heaven. I can only be happy for her although sadness weighs me down. I am now acquainted with deep sadness and how you must mourn for your father. Grief makes it hard to write, but you deserve to know why I am delayed in departing this land.

 At the moment, I am trapped in Latvia due to the up-rising in my country. I do not know how long it may be before I am allowed to travel to England to join you. There is a guard placed outside my gate to prevent my departure at present, but I will travel to Rica at the first opportunity and board a ship to London. Perhaps all will settle quickly. I can only pray it shall be so.

I cannot wait to be in your arms again, to kiss your dear face and gaze into your eyes once more. With words, you painted a lovely picture of your home in England and of your relatives. The thought of meeting your family holds much pleasure for me, especially since I am now alone.

Take care, My Love. I shall write to let you know as the hour of my departure grows closer. Keep safe and know you have my enduring love.

Yours Always,

Rebecca Sudduth


Another letter confiscated by the villain.

The Year of Our Lord 1814

My Dearest Husband,

I have not received any word from you since you sailed away from Latvia. I hope you are well. I must write quickly in order to send this to you. There is still a guard at my gate.

With your connection in the government, perhaps you can return and help me travel to England. There will be one added person in need of your assistance, our son. If you cannot come at once, please write. I am most anxious to hear from you.

Never forget my enduring love. Anxiously waiting.

Yours Always,

Rebecca Sudduth

                                       * * *

About Wareeze:

I am a native of Texas and still live in this great state. I married my high school sweetheart, years and years ago. We raised four children and have eight grandchildren, and grandchildren are Grand. At the moment, all my children and my grandchildren live within seventy miles of our home, lots of visits. My husband and I still love each other after all these years, the stuff romance is made of, Happy Ever After!

website -  http://www.wareezewoodson.com/

face book -  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Wareeze-Woodson/523727757689755

twitter -  twitter.com@wareeze

face book - https://www.goodreads.com/wareeze
 

Good morning, Samantha! I'm so glad you stopped by today. I'm looking forward to hearing about you and your debut novel, The Right One.

Available from Amazon:
www.amzn.com/B00L2MQJX2

Hello Cathy. Thank you for inviting me on your blog today. I’m excited to be here.

  Tell us a little about your writing journey.

Ever since I can remember, I have loved curling up with a book. When I was young I wrote poems and short stories. I signed everything UNKNOWN AUTHOR. I guess even then I feared rejection. When I graduated, my life changed. I married a military man, traveled across the US and abroad, then settled in the Shenandoah Valley and had a family. My children were in high school before I started writing again. About fifteen years ago, I wrote to Catherine Coulter and was amazed that she wrote back. I couldn’t believe it. She was very encouraging and told me to join RWA. She said to write everyday even if it was only one sentence. Many years later, I’m in a book store looking at the covers wanting to try a new author. I see the face of a hunk on a book cover and immediately bought that book. Yep, ladies. A book cover can make a difference. I’m reading Anna Campbell and – I was hooked!  I went back and bought her other two books (which was all she’d written at that time). I contacted her. She’s so nice, and again I was advised to join RWA. I did it via Internet and now I am a RWA member, joined several chapters including Hearts Through History Chapter, and I’m a member of Savvy Authors.

I started writing again. I entered a lot of contests, workshops, and made some good friends via e-mails. I finally finished my historical romance, The Right One, the first of a trilogy. I contacted more publishers, sent my MS to editors, and continued to hope. A pitch opportunity with Savvy Authors resulted in my book being published. I’m over the moon.

Why did you choose to write in this genre? Have you ever written any other genre? Do you plan on doing so in the future?

My main love is historical. I would have liked to live in the Regency time period. Dashing Lords and pirates seem so romantic. So historical genre is the one I chose. One day I was playing around to get my mind off edits and I wrote a scene with two women bantering back and forth. The words seemed to flow. So I ended up writing my first contemporary Something More. Which is due for release June 25, 2014. Even though historical romance is my first love, the regency requires a lot of research and effort with language of the time period. I worry about making a mistake with British slang.

Where do you get the ideas for your stories?

Would you believe I get most of them lying in bed at night? The only chance I have to unwind and the day’s activities race through my mind. Then ideas pop into my head. The problem is, when I wake up the next morning, I don’t remember half of them. I read once, an author keeps pen and paper by her bed. So sometimes I turn on the light, grab my pen and jot down a thought. My hubby thinks I’m nuts, so I only do it when he works night shift. LOL

What inspired you to write this book? Do you research before you write?

  I love history. Research is the pits, as far as the internet. I google everything – but when you click on websites, they usually give you something other than what you’re looking for. It takes a lot of hours to find things. But I learn a lot of history while I’m looking. So many amazing details which makes a good foundation for any MS. I also read, lots of historical romance books. I’ve taken workshops and Eliza Knight is one of the best for historical facts and castles.

I find the more I research, the more I write down, the deeper my thoughts and the more my characters come alive.

Tell us about your process. Do you plot/make outlines for your WIPS, or are you a total pantser?

I find that I get a lot more accomplished if I just sit at the computer and write. But if I want my story to go somewhere and be a good MS, there has to be GMC. I learned this from many workshops. I learned how to do character sketches, GMC charts, plots—everything one needs to bring a story together. As I write, I make notations on names, color of hair, anything I may need for reference later in my story. It pays off.
 
Are you a full time writer or do you have a “day job”?

I have a full time J O B. But I’m retiring this year and can not wait. I don’t have to tell any writer how difficult it is to find time to put words to paper, let alone create them in your mind. I’m so proud I finally managed to finish a novel and now it is being published. Looking forward to the day I may spend more time on my writing. I have so many ideas for books and this historical is the first of three in the “One and Only Series”.
 
What is your favorite part of writing?

Coming up with the characters and their traits. Everyone wants a strong – tall dark and handsome – hero. The trick is not making them all look the same. I do character sheets on my hero and heroines. Then I have to refer back to those sheets throughout the MS so I don’t goof.

What is your least favorite part of writing?

Getting started. Seems like I procrastinate a bit. Takes me forever to get settled in.

What advice would you give an aspiring writer?

No# 1.  Join RWA. From there you learn to do a number of things. You can join chapter groups, critique groups, you’ll find friends and receive a lot of help. Take every workshop offered—GMC, POV, character interviews, etc. Believe me, you’ll be glad you did. Enter contests and keep your mind open. Take criticism as constructive. Make your writing better. Don’t expect success overnight. It is a long, hard process. If you are determined, keep trying. Don’t give up.

Tell us a little about your current or upcoming release: your inspiration, main characters, setting, etc.

Dark lords are sexy. Every girl dreams of a strong hero and every man wants a sexy woman. The idea of mistaken identity intrigued me and I needed a hook. As I put my story to paper I created conflicts. This is the result.

Morgan Bartholomew Langston, Earl of Whetherford, has finally decided to accept his fate. Tired of dangerous assignments and putting his neck on the line, he has returned to his ancestral home to accept the title of his birthright and produce the required heir. But, when he arrives, he finds his home has been invaded and a female has taken off with his mother’s jewels. Morgan decides the traitorous jade will not get away, so he sets into motion a plan to bring her back. When he abducts the wrong woman, his reaction to her brings him dangerously close to breaking his vow of forbidden emotions.

Katherine Elizabeth Radbourn is a strong, independent woman, and at the age of twenty three is still unwed. In a desperate attempt to find her brother, she is abducted which leads her on a journey to love and mistaken identity. Once she meets her captor, fear and indignation dissipates to an overwhelming awareness. Even though he tells her she is the wrong one, Kat realizes she has finally met a man that—not only she is attracted to—but has awakened her woman’s body. Does he really care for her or does he secretly yearn for the woman she is supposed to be?  Uncertainty makes her risk the very man she has given her soul.

                                      * * *

If you stepped into your hero/heroine’s shoes, would you react the same way they did to adversity?

Oh yes. Don’t we always try to warn the hero/heroine, say we would do things differently? I’d love to live in the Regency or Southern Bell time period. In my stories I try to do the unexpected, make my heroine stronger. And I think to myself—how would I react? So I play the scene out and that’s what my character does.

Any final thoughts you’d like your readers to know about you or your books?

I enjoy penning a story with strong characters, a bit of humor, and active scenes. I invite you to lay the worries of the world off your shoulders and get lost in the pages of a romance, where you embark on a journey with the hero and heroine, become involved in a dream, plunge into a world of fantasy, live an adventure your heart can share.

Please visit my webpage: samanthyawyatt.com 

You can also find me on facebook, Goodreads, Amazon, and SMP Authors.

Thank you for your interest. Tell your friends.

                               The Right One

  He abducts the wrong woman . . . she proves she is the right one.

Enjoy an excerpt:

Kat had been summoned. He had requested her presence, not demanded. Beckoned, as if she were an invited guest. The irony of it all.

Her stomach was tied in knots—had been ever since she received his invitation. She tried to slow her breathing. She swallowed, but the lump that lodged from her throat to the center of her chest never moved. Her head throbbed. The pulse in her temples pounded with every beat of her heart. So loud in volume, she feared surely someone could hear it. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the blond man’s smirk, which was becoming all too familiar. He waited for her to enter the lion’s den. She faced the huge solid oak door, the only thing between her and her impending fate.

The vein in her neck throbbed. If she didn’t calm down, she would be at his mercy. And that would never do. She could not allow him to know how defenseless she believed herself to be.

Lord Whetherford should have absolved her by now. If he was any kind of a gentleman, he would have set her free. She hesitated another moment outside the door. He was at fault—not her. She would demand to be released at once. Her body as taut as a tightly-drawn corset, she knocked on the wooden door.

Hearing his utterance, Kat smoothed her hands down the sides of her gown and squared her shoulders. Knowing Hathridge studied her, she summoned the courage to enter with a confident determination she did not feel.

She opened the study door.

He stood by the window, facing the sunlight, his back to her. A large, dark, muscular man, in all his finery, with broad shoulders and a commanding stance. Inky black waves hung thick and unruly. Tresses just long enough to curl over the neck of a white shirt peaking from the collar of his black suit coat. This man stood as tall as her brother, and Stephen loomed well over six feet. Even from the back, his broadness showed plenty of muscle. Remembering his fight with the ruffians made her sigh, marveling at the instant craving that pierced her torso.

The latch of the closing door generated a spike in her already rapid pulse. No chance to flee since Hathridge, quite possibly, barred the door. She lifted her chin and forced her arms by her side. Not knowing what to say, or if he expected her to say anything at all, she waited. He remained motionless, taking his darn sweet time to acknowledge her presence. Why didn’t he turn around? Why did he ignore her? The silence drew out so long she thought her unsteady legs would not hold her much longer.

Finally, he spoke. “Would you like a drink, my dear?

She had forgotten the low deep timbre of his voice. The rich baritone sent surges of awareness down her spine. An unexpected, distinct wakefulness. She resisted the urge to clasp her hands and entwine her worrisome fingers. Kat answered in a voice she hoped would not crack. “No, thank you.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when he whirled around like the lash of a whip. He didn’t speak. He stood like stone, the same as she. Smoldering dark eyes seized hers in a heated, locked gaze, drowning her in their penetrating force. She had not been prepared for the dark threatening expression—threatening in the way that she felt something move within her.

Time stood still.

Nothing else in the room existed but the two of them. His hypnotic pull seared her, sending a tingling sensation beginning in her stomach, then flowing down the back of her knees and extending through her limbs making it impossible to move.

Her throat tightened.

If those eyes could shoot fire, they would sear holes right through her. But the expression on his face . . . he looked like he’d just had a good kick in the teeth.

Morgan felt as though someone had just punched him in the gut—hard. His breath caught at the sight of the stunning creature before him. Lost in amazing green eyes—adrift in their sparkling jade and mystique sensuality. He scanned her high cheekbones with soft creamy skin, and let his gaze slide down to fasten on luscious lips. Suddenly his mouth was dry

A cloud of vibrant red hair floated around her shoulders—like the brightest sunset at the end of a day, resting on the shimmering ocean. Luxuriant masses of thick curls inviting a man’s hands. He flexed his to keep from reaching for her. The movement reminded him of the snifter in his palm, which brought him some sense of stability.

He took in her exquisite form, stared at the more-than-generous swell of bosom, letting his heated gaze linger there. A notion popped in the back of his mind telling him to breathe. He tightened his jaw to make sure his mouth did not hang open. His hungry eyes moved lower, perceiving a slim waist before the folds of her gown hid the rest. He swore under his breath. She is exquisite.

She stood straight and tall with her chin at an angle in challenge. Even with that rod in her backbone, he sensed her vulnerability. A pang of concern struck his chest.

“You,” he whispered. What the hell is she doing here?

An explosion went off in his brain. Holy Mother of God! Those fools. They must have brought her here thinking she was Juliana.

Blood and the devil!

 Morgan’s heart kicked and landed somewhere in the bottom of his gut. Choking on the words for this unsettling circumstance, he compelled himself to speak hoping his voice would not betray him. “I owe you my profound apology. There has been a horrendous mistake, madam. And I fear that I have made it.”

Those beautiful eyes blinked. She stared at him as though someone had taken over her senses. Was this woman a simpleton?

He hurried to the sideboard. Even though she could quite possibly be in shock, he ignored the stronger spirits and poured a generous amount of sherry. He didn’t want to knock her on her bum, just bring some color back in her face. He strode back to the unknown beauty and placed the flute in her hand.

Changes came over her face. Stupor—awe—surprise—and . . . anger. Although Morgan was not a patient man, he waited.

Her eyes flamed with fire. “Did I hear you correctly? Mistake?”

Morgan stopped the oath before it left his mouth. “Yes. I believe your being here is a mistake.”

“A mistake.” She echoed with a stupefied look, unseeing the crystal she held in her hand. “That’s what I thought you said.”

She raised the glass and downed the liquid in one swift movement. Tears came to her eyes as she tried not to cough. She marched to the side table and he feared she planned to get more. Instead she set the glass on the table top. When she faced him, her hands were fisted and the fire in her eyes burned brighter than the flames in the hearth.

“Mistake?” she snapped. “I was kidnapped! I have been a prisoner in your home. Forced to come here and forced to remain. I’ve been scared out of my mind. Every day I worried if you still lived. I agonized over what would become of me if you died. Then I walk in here and you have the audacious daring to tell me it was a mistake?”

Buy links: http://www.amzn.com/B00L2MQJX2

Thank you so much for joining us today, Samantha! I wish you great success with this book! I hope you will visit with us again soon!

Please help me welcome Scottish Regency author, Collette Cameron.

Title: The Earl’s Enticement

Genre: Regency-Scottish

Heat Level: Sensual

Buy Link: http://amzn.com/B00KLO64

The Earl’s Enticement Cover Blurb:

She won’t be tamed.

A fiery, unconventional Scot, Adaira Ferguson wears breeches, swears, and has no more desire to marry than she does to follow society’s dictates of appropriate behavior. She trusts no man with the secret she desperately protects.

He can’t forget.

Haunted by his past, Roark, The Earl of Clarendon, rigidly adheres to propriety, holding himself and those around him to the highest standards, no matter the cost. Betrayed once, he’s guarded and leery of all women.

Mistaking Roark for a known spy, Adaira imprisons him. Infuriated, he vows vengeance. Realizing her error, she’s appalled and releases him, but he’s not satisfied with his freedom. Roark is determined to transform Adaira from an ill-mannered hoyden to a lady of refinement.

He succeeds only to discover, he preferred the free-spirited Scottish lass who first captured his heart.

Excerpt:

“Halloo,” he hollered. “Is anyone there? I’m the Earl of Clarendon. I’m being held prisoner.”

She shook her head, sending him a contemptuous scowl. “Stop shouting, you dolt. It’s but a weasel or a stoat, perhaps even a squirrel. They come in through the drains or gaps where a stone’s gone missing in the wall.”

She motioned with the pistol for him to move away from the door once more. “I’m surprised none have paid you a visit as yet. As for Ewan, he’s away in London, just now.”

With what could only be described as a derisive grunt, Marquardt obliged her and sauntered away from the door. He rested against the far wall, ankles crossed, crunching on the apple.

A muffled thud, as if someone had bumped into something, echoed through the lower chambers.

He perked up. “That was no pest.”

Adaira whirled to peer into the gloom.

“I say, can you hear me? I’m locked in a cell.”

She spun back around.                

He’d moved to the door, his hands fisted around the bars. Drat it. She was losing control of the situation. His presence mustn’t be known to anyone other than Brayan yet.

She bent to retrieve the sack. No doubt Brayan had come looking for her at one of her parents’ behest. Marquardt absolutely must not see him. Brayan would boast he’d helped lock the man up. From the sound of the crashing about, he’d sampled the flask a good deal more and was utterly bosky.

“Blast and da—” She stopped as Marquardt’s eyebrows flew to his hairline in obvious disapproval.

Lowering her voice, she hurried on. “Ewan’s expected back any day. When he returns, I’ll tell him I apprehended you. He can do with you what he wants. I’m quite sure it will involve the authorities.”

“Apprehended?” He shook his head. “You’re still sticking to the absurd notion that I’m Edgar?”

He tossed the apple core between the bars. It bounced before rolling to a stop barely three feet beyond her. A rat promptly appeared, scrambling to snatch the core in his pointed, yellow teeth. The little beast raced down the passageway with two other rodents squeaking their outrage in its wake.

Marquardt had done that on purpose, the lout. 

                                   * * *                                                

Connect with Collette:

Website     Blue Rose Romance Blog   Twitter   Facebook