Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
I definitely chose it. While I love to read dark vampire books and enjoy the rich detail and sensuality they include, I don’t think I could write one. For me, contemporary comes easily because the story could be going on right outside my door. It’s familiar; it’s imaginable.
Did you enjoy language arts in school? Did you have a teacher that particularly encouraged you to write?
Yes, I loved language arts. My favorite teacher taught speech and English and also directed the plays at my high school. His name was Richard Vicario. He was a nurturing, supportive kind of teacher and encouraged me to develop my speech writing and delivery. At the time, I really enjoyed acting in plays and the big high school musicals. My desire to write fiction didn’t come until college.
It’s five o’clock somewhere…Let’s have a drink! What cocktail best describes you and why? It’s not a neon color or frou frou drink and isn’t served in a martini glass. It’s not a fad drink and I am not a fad kind of person. It’s rich, creamy and rolls across my tongue very nicely. It’s subtle and tasteful, which I try to be too.
A Gold Cadillac
2 oz. Galliano (unique tall thin bottle)
1 oz cream or vanilla ice cream
1 oz. White Crème De Cacao
On my desk I have a rhino that my husband gave me to remind me I’m rhino-tough, as you have to be in the business. Is there anything you have that you use to remind you of that? I only have a couple of small bunnies and a polar bear on my credenza but I do have two quotes that motivate me to keep going.
Don’t get it right…get it written.
You can’t fail if you don’t quit.
I have two muses, Arwen and Bronwyn, they have very distinct personalities. Can you share a bit about your muse? This may sound surprising, but I don’t have one. My characters motivate me to tell their stories. My inspiration comes in the form of movie scenes that crop up in my head at the most unexpected times; driving in the car, sitting in a boring movie or in my early morning dreams.It seems we all endured English and/or World literature coming up in high school…What was the worst book you were ever forced to read and what about it turned you off?
You have a million dollars that you must donate to one charitable organization. Which one would you choose and why?
I would start my own “Feed the Children” charity that would sustain 100 indoor aeroponic grow centers in selected inner city locations. The indoor gardens would provide healthy vegetables and some fruit for underprivileged families. It would also provide employment for members of the community. In this country, as rich in resources as we are, no child should have to go to bed hungry.Do you have one of those pesky day jobs, or are you a full-time writer? If you do have another career what do you do and do you enjoy it?
I am very fortunate to be a full time writer. Until a few years ago, I worked outside and wrote at night and on the weekends.
Romance has come a long, long way since Fabio graced the covers regularly…it seems the hinges are off the proverbial door. How far is too far in your mind? I’ll leave the first amendment, and tests for obscenity, up to the judges. In my opinion, there will always be a market for a compelling love story, regardless of it being categorized as sweet, spicy, or erotica.
I’ve been asked, as has my husband, if we do “all that stuff in my stories.” Do you get asked this and if so how do you handle it? Of course people make kidding remarks, especially to my husband. I usually say something like, “Fiction writers make it up as we go along. Do you honestly think every writer who’s written a thriller has personally murdered every “body” in their book?”Wine or beer? wine
Satin or cotton? cotton
Fries or tots? fries
Cake or pie? cake
Steak or burgers? Cheese burgers
Candle light or pitch dark? Candle light
My addiction to reading emerged when I was ten and down with measles. My mother, trying to keep me entertained, brought home a stack of Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew books. Within days, I’d consumed them all and asked for more. That’s when it truly began−the pleasure of reading which would eventually lead to my writing.
I can’t pin point precisely when I knew I was different from everyone else−at least from my tight group of hometown friends. Didn’t everyone have movies playing in their heads starring beautiful characters leading adventurous lives in exotic places? NO—they did not. Did that mean they were normal and I was the odd, slightly wacky duck? My answer to that conundrum came when I attended my first writer’s conference in Savannah. Nervous about being on my own at the crowded event, a kindly writer from Texas took me under her wing and introduced me to at least a dozen writers. Surrounded by so many writers who were so like me, I fit right in. I wasn’t an “odd” duck after all; I’d simply been in the wrong pond!
As a result of that conference, my desire and conviction to write blossomed. Still working a full time job at a Louisiana cancer center, I carved out time to write every night and on weekends. My first manuscript went through four incarnations, and a year under the bed, before success came knocking.
Today my family and our two Labs—Lambeau, the Green Bay Packers unofficial mascot and Gracie, who is just plain, sweet Amazing Grace—live in a picturesque little town in Ohio wrapped around a lovely town square with an intricately carved gazebo where weekly band concerts take place all summer long.
Gabrielle March is summoned to an oceanfront estate in Massachusetts by the matriarch of Atlantic-Hastings International where she is presented with a hefty block of shares as amends for a crime committed against her family. The stock—worth several million dollars—can give her the means to make her dream come true if only she can muster the courage to break free from her past and believe in her unique creative talent.
Pierce Hastings, son of Gabrielle’s benefactress, grudgingly agrees to take her under his wing and acclimate her to Atlantic-Hastings. Never one to mix business with pleasure, Pierce stuns himself when he ignores his own self imposed rule. Gabrielle’s complete lack of artifice, unvarnished honesty and quirky sense of humor are intoxicating to him―and he’s rapidly becoming addicted. He’s blindsided when Gabrielle confesses that, in spite of her growing feelings for him, she will never fit into his world of power and privilege and has no desire to try.
“The fact is, Mr. Hastings, it is not a reporter’s job to be favorable. They are in the business of finding and reporting the truth.”
"Nobly put, Miss March.” The woman certainly didn’t pull any punches.
“I hope this will put you at ease, Mr. Hastings. I own the newspaper. It’s been several years since I single-handedly set out to ruin anyone.”
Sarcasm, even with a lovely Southern accent, was still sarcasm.
"I see.” Pierce sounded duly impressed. “That’s certainly an accomplishment for such a young …” He froze when her eyes narrowed. What the hell was wrong with him? He careened from one blunder to the next.
"Tell me, is it my age or the fact that I’m a woman that bothers you?” Her face was considerably more colorful than the rest of her and he knew it had nothing to do with the heat.
Pierce was no chauvinist and certainly had no prejudice against successful females. After all, he’d been married to a talented trial attorney. Hadn’t he put his wife through law school? Hadn’t he supported Glenna in every way until she made partner in her firm and then announced that she’d changed her mind about having children and, by the way, she didn’t want to be his wife anymore either.
"I didn't mean that you weren't responsible.” His eyes returned to the very entertaining Miss March who had just snapped up the ball and was ready to run with it.
"What would someone like you know about responsibility anyway? You've probably never put in an honest day’s work in your entire over-privileged life. Flying around the world trying to stay one step ahead of reality. One of these days you’re going to have to come down to earth and see what it’s like in the real world.”
Where did the woman get her information? She’d obviously pegged him as some sort of wealthy derelict. Fired up, she was something. Misinformed maybe, but she had balls of steel. "For a newspaper woman, you’re lacking in your facts, Miss...."