Author Kate Hill and her Spirits of Christmas

#romance #Christmas

Blurb:

On Christmas Eve twenty-five years ago, a brutal murder was committed at the house where Christa Wild works as a live-in maid. When the other servants leave for the holiday this year she stays behind, hoping that any spirits dwelling there will help her regain the psychic power she lost. She’s surprised when the intriguing but disturbed owner of the house appears several days before Christmas.

Action star Joel Connor has kept a terrible secret for most of his life. Despite his success as an athlete and actor, he is plagued by flashbacks of a gruesome attack that destroyed his family. This Christmas, Joel returns to the house where it happened to face the ghosts of the past, but finds he is not alone.

Joel and Christa are instantly attracted, but will his psychological state prevent them from finding peace and love?

Meet Kate Hill, a fellow Changeling Author.

Kate Hill Bio:

Kate Hill is a vegetarian New Englander who started writing over twenty years ago for pleasure. Since 1996, she has sold over one hundred short stories, novellas, and novels.

She prefers to blend genres, and she loves horror and a happily ever after, so her books can be a bit unusual. If you’re looking for romance with witches, aliens, vampires, angels, demons, shapeshifters and more, there’s a good chance you’ll find something to your taste in her backlist.

When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working out, and watching horror movies. She also writes under the name Saloni Quinby.

Contact Info:

katehill2@yahoo.com

Author Links:

Website:

Blogs:

https://kate-hill.com/blog/

https://kate-hill.com/compellingbeastsblog/

Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Kate-Hill/e/B002BLS7OW

Bookbub:

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/kate-hill

Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16157.Kate_Hill

Twitter:

https://www.twitter.com/katehill.romance

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/user/KateH02

She graciously agreed to give an interview so we can get to know her a little better, and get a sneak peak into her new Christmas novella, The Spirit of Christmas.

Why do you write romance?

I write romance because it’s what I love to read. Initially, I started writing romance because I wasn’t finding enough action and horror elements in the romances that were popular when I was younger. Now it’s easier to find action and blood and guts in romance.

What makes a great romance hero?

My favorite type of hero is actually the antihero or a villain turned hero. I love heroes with flaws–ones who aren’t perfect, golden heroes.

What is your favorite book?

That’s hard to answer because there are so many great books. If I had to narrow it down, it would be a tie between the Three Musketeers and the Phantom of the Opera.

What was the hardest part about writing Spirits of Christmas?

The hardest part was writing a hero who constantly lived with fear. Lots of romance heroes have moments of fear or find themselves in frightening situations, but Joel has been dealing with deep fear since childhood. Though he has gone to extremes to prove himself fearless, he still must cope with a lot of terror resulting from childhood trauma.

What made Christa fun to write?

Christa is a self-confidant woman with a good sense of humor. She has a lot of compassion for others, even when she’s dealing with issues of her own. Also she’s not afraid to enjoy herself.

What did you use for inspiration when writing Spirits of Christmas?

I listened to a lot of Christmas music when I wrote the first draft. I also thought about what family and friends enjoy about the holidays and included some of their favorites into the story.

Excerpt:

In the kitchen down the hall, Christa took her phone out of her pocket, placed it on the counter, and turned on her favorite music app. She selected her Christmas play list and soon she was singing along with carols while mixing cookie dough.

Before long, she had a batch in the oven. The scent of warm chocolate filled the kitchen. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply.

“Mmm. Can’t wait for those to be finished, but in the meantime –” She sat at the table, pulled out her red glitter pen, and wrote notes in her Christmas cards. She’d mail them tomorrow and her family should get them in time for the holiday.

What was that?

She looked up from her cards, paused her music, and strained to listen. Had that been a car door closing?

“You’re getting paranoid, Christa. Get a grip, girl.”

Even if there was a car thief, in this neighborhood they wouldn’t go for her little economy car, but one of the pricey ones parked in front of the other huge houses down the street.

She nearly resumed the music app, but something didn’t feel right. Instead, she pocketed her phone, reached for the nearby frying pan, and stood. On her way to the foyer, her heart pounded. Was this how it happened to those poor people all those years ago? Had they heard their killer approach, or had he taken them totally by surprise?

The key turned in the door. Christa furrowed her brow. Only other members of staff had a key. Someone must have forgotten something and returned for it.

“Hello?” Christa tried to sound firm. “Who’s there? I’m warning you, I’m armed.”

“Then I’m calling the cops, because you’re trespassing on my property.”

That calm, precise male voice wasn’t familiar to Christa, yet for some strange reason, she recognized it. She had never met the owner of the house, but she knew that he neither lived in nor rented it. Was it possible that he had decided to visit today? If so, he probably hadn’t expected any servants to be here. They were supposed to be on Christmas vacation.

“How do I know you’re the owner?”

The door burst open, slamming into Christa and knocking her onto the wooden floor. She landed, her scream turning to a grunt. Her frying pan flew from her hand and landed out of reach. Cold wind and snow swirled around the slim man in a black coat and gloves who stood over her. Ice crystals covered his sleek, dark hair. A fierce expression on his angular face, he glanced around the foyer. Blue-gray eyes, like slivers of crystal, glanced from Christa to the frying pan. Not only did he sound familiar, but he looked familiar, too.

“Is that your weapon?” He didn’t smile, but she sensed his amusement. “I think if I were in the kitchen, I’d have picked up a knife instead, but whatever.” He held up his keys. “Like I said, I own the house. What’s your excuse for being here?”

“I work here.”

He raised a groomed eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then why aren’t you on vacation with the rest of the staff?”

“I –”

“Are you responsible for these atrocious decorations?” He strode past her to glance in the living room.

“I’m sorry. I thought I’d be alone here.”

“So did I,” he murmured before pulling out his cell phone and taking her picture.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He held up a finger for silence while he made a call. “Frank, yes. It’s Joel. The picture I just sent. Does that girl work here?”

“That’s a good idea.” Christa pulled out her cell, took his photo, and texted it to Frank — the butler in charge of the house — along with a note asking for confirmation of the man’s identity.

“You don’t know me?” A smile flirted with his slim lips.

She lifted her chin. “Why should I know you? I’ve worked here a month and have never met the owner of the house.”

“Do you ever go to the movies?” Christa curled her lip. “Are you asking for a date? Now?”

Spirits of Christmas Purchase Links:

Changeling Press:

https://www.changelingpress.com/spirits-of-christmas-wild-witches-of-beaver-bay-2-b-2964

Amazon:

Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/spirits-of-christmas-kate-hill/1134986498;jsessionid=4A66074C917BB3288D8DA42F0E1C55E0.prodny_store01-atgap10?ean=2940163103942

kobo:

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/spirits-of-christmas

ibooks:

https://books.apple.com/us/book/spirits-of-christmas/id1488408639?ls=1

Other books in the Wild Witches of Beaver Bay series:

Mysti and Starr

Family magic summons Mysti Wild to her destined mate–a demon hunting biker with secrets of his own.

Link:

https://www.changelingpress.com/mysti-and-starr-wild-witches-of-beaver-bay-1-b-2914?series_id=575

Trinity and Jeff (Coming in 2020)

A firefighter battles the supernatural to convince his lifelong friend that she’s his soulmate.

Link:

https://www.changelingpress.com/trinity-and-jeff-wild-witches-of-beaver-bay-3-b-2973?series_id=575

Writing habits of a romance author

 

21151378_10213695198592440_2925865773603312114_nEver wonder what a writer looks like when they’re writing? I always pictured a slightly manic person, hunched over their keyboard and typing furiously while muttering weird phrases that no one could understand.

I can’t speak for other authors, but I’m about as far from that as you can get. I do have an office, with a desk and a chair and lots of shelves and file cabinets, but that’s not where I write. That’s where I do my accounting-day-job kinds things.

When my muse is co-operating, I can be found sitting on my big overstuffed sofa, feet up on the footstool in front of it. My laptop is open on my lap, and the cat is perched on the back of my neck, purring away. The dog is stretched out beside me and occasionally nudges my arm to reminding me I’m allowed to pet him.

I guess I’m lucky because I live alone, except for my menagerie. Even though I’m sitting right out in the open, in the middle of the house, no one interrupts me by turning on the television or running through the room screaming. I’m not motivated to jump up and answer the phone just because it’s ringing, and I don’t live in town, so wandering salesmen are few and far between as are those nice people who want to save my soul. I can spend hours in decadent comfort while pounding out the day’s word count.

As lazy as that sounds, I console myself with the fact that at least I’m generally not still in my pajamas. That’s less because of good habits and more because I need to take the dog for a long run in the morning or he won’t let me sit still and write. I like to refer to him as my little exercise program. He also likes to take the occasional meander around the yard to do his personal business, so that make me get off my butt and stretch on a semi regular basis.

Occasionally, I go camping (as pictured above) and then I write on a folding camp chair by the river.  It may not be high class, but it’s definitely relaxing and that’s a good thing.

So there you have it, the writing habits of a romance author!

Books – Prizes – Authors- Romance

eosb_2019_big

TRS End of Summer Bash is starting tomorrow. If you’re a fan of romance, free books, authors or all of the above, make sure you pop by and join in the fun.

There may even be a sneak peak at my upcoming release – Running From the Cyborg!

It’s all right here:   https://trsparties.com

 

Who’s a fan of Motorcycle Romance?

#MCRomance #Romantic Suspense #VigilanteJustice #OrganizedCrime #Veteran #Series #HEA

Brewer Cover

Brewer’s Ward

Devil’s Outlaws 4

By Lynn Burke

Publisher: Changeling Press

World-Wide Release Date: August 23, 2019

She might be his mark, but one look into her eyes slays him.

Blurb:

Reagan “Brewer” de Jager might look soft as a teddy bear, but his stint as a sniper in the SEALs hardened him into a lethal killer. The fact his wife cheated on him while he’d been deployed makes him unable to trust. Cold hearted and empty, he sets his sights on his next mark—and one look into her eyes slays him.

Nova Smego wasn’t nicknamed Black Widow by her CIA superiors without reason. Underestimated for her petite form, she’s quick with her fists and lethal with a blade or a bullet. Tossed out of the CIA with a scarred reputation, she joins a hitmen-for-hire team in the hopes of exacting revenge on the one who ruined her career.

When the Outlaws eliminate her team in order to rescue one of their own, Nova is kept alive—tied to her captor. A winter storm kills the electricity, but not the heat building between her and Brewer. There was a reason he couldn’t end her, and while she plans her escape, she fears losing her heart to the chemistry sizzling between them.

But when Nova’s desire for vengeance shakes the tentative bond between them, the Outlaws issue Brewer an ultimatum. Pull the trigger, or find common ground to trust one another and avoid the Outlaws’ demand for her life.

​PURCHASE LINKS:

Changeling Press – 15% sale: https://www.changelingpress.com/brewer-s-mark-devil-s-outlaws-mc-4-b-2912

Amazon Universal: http://mybook.to/BREWERSMARK

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/brewers-mark-lynn-burke/1132740360

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/brewer-s-mark

iTunes: https://books.apple.com/us/book/brewers-mark/id1475028866

Books2Read Universal: https://books2read.com/brewersmarkdo4

EXCERPT:

Brewer stood in the doorway, his gaze flitting over my face as he stepped inside my prison.

My heart spasmed — and that damn tingle between my thighs roared to life. I scowled.

Chin tilted up, I held his blue eyed stare, trying to focus on what he’d done, the family he’d taken from me, rather than the arousal he’d woken inside my core.

A twinkle lit his eye and twitched his lips peeking from his full beard — a beard that appeared silky, bringing to mind an image of his dark head between my thighs. Would his facial hair tickle? Scrape and mark my skin?

I swallowed and jerked my focus back up to his eyes, determined to keep silent no matter what he said — or did.

He caved from the silence between us first, expelling a heavy exhale, his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit. “What’s your name?”

“Eat shit.”

His lips quirked as though to smirk, but flat lined. “Bet you got your ass bullied for that name while growing up.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’d rather fuck you.”

My breath caught — and Brewer blinked as though his words had escaped unintended. He stood a few feet in front of me, doing nothing to hide the cock swelling inside his leathers. Long and hard…

The tingle of arousal morphed into pure wetness, dampening my panties in the span of a single breath as we stared at one another, our fogging breaths loud in the stillness.

“Goddamnit.” Brewer scrubbed a hand down over his face and beard while I attempted to swallow the dryness from my throat. He spun and left without another word, leaving my upper body unwrapped.

My arousal kept me warm for all of two minutes before my teeth began to chatter.

Fucking asshole couldn’t handle the sexual tension, the complication of what that brought to our situation. He fled like a pansy-ass.

Better that than rape me

“Fuck,” I muttered, eyes clenching shut against the thought of him thrusting into my body. My pussy spasmed, deepening my frown. I hadn’t let a man’s dick near me in over three years — and I wasn’t about to let some Stockholm syndrome make me lenient. No matter how fucking hot said man might be.

He’d killed my team, so given the chance, I would kill him.

© Lynn Burke 2018

OTHER BOOKS IN THE DEVIL’S OUTLAWS SERIES:

Bowie’s Angel, Devil’s Outlaws MC 1: http://mybook.to/BowiesAngel

Gunner’s Flame, Devil’s Outlaws MC 2: http://mybook.to/GUNNERSFLAME

Austin’s Ward, Devil’s Outlaws MC 3: http://mybook.to/AUSTINSWARD

Banner to 3

ABOUT LYNN BURKE:

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author-Lynn-Burke-555282497937461/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorLynnBurke

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorlynnburke/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/lynn-burke

Lynn Banner

 

Writer’s block?

21151378_10213695198592440_2925865773603312114_nI am starting to think I may have writer’s block. It’s caused by a virus that makes me stare at a blank page for endless seconds before I decide to go see what’s new on Facebook.. Or Instagram. Or at the Market in town.

Simply put, I’ve lost the “want to write” part of myself, and that scares me. I’ve always wanted to write. I haven’t always done it, but I’ve dreamed about it, and plotted in my head, and considered characters and what they could do. Now I just avoid it. I have two (TWO!!!) half written cyborg novellas that are way overdue to my publisher.

And I just sit here.

At first, it was because I was way too busy in the day job. Being self employed means I get to pick up the slack when everyone else lets things slide. So in March and April and most of May of this year, I was working up to fourteen hours a day, almost every day. I certainly didn’t get weekends off, and I wasn’t complaining because more work = more money = less debt. I may enjoy writing, but the day job pays the bills.

Then I was too exhausted. After all, I’d just worked way more than anyone else I knew  and had very little down time. I was too tired to think, let alone write.

Which brings me to today. I’m not working at the day job. I  am dogsitting but watching a mellow lab snooze in the sun is hardly a reason not to write. And I really should go trim that hedge out front but it’s raining and who the heck trims hedges (with an electric hedge trimmer) in the rain? Certainly not me!

So why am I not writing?

Actually I am! I’m writing a blog post on why I’m not writing!

Time to turn off the WIFI (Yes I know how to do that) and get my butt into the writing chair. There’s cyborgs and aliens and others just waiting for me to tell them what to do!