Tuesday Special: Red L. Jameson - With These Wings

Red L. Jameson

www.redljameson.com

     For more than a thousand years Samuella Dís has been a fairy godmother. The fairy title is ironic, since she’s a dís—an ancient society of all-female, winged, immortal avengers who paint their toenails with reckless abandon and have difficulties with real swearwords. However, something’s wrong with Sam’s latest assignment. Her newest orphan is a six-foot-three soldier, who’s indubitably handsome, and a flausching man. Not a boy at all, but a flinging flanging man!
     Luke Anderson is home barely a week when he loses his parents in a drunk driving accident. Already plagued by nightmares from his tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, he’s not sure how much more he can take. And maybe he’s gone a bit crazy because he can’t keep his eyes off one spunky strawberry blonde at his parents’ funeral—inappropriate, right? But she offers so much comfort in those huge amber eyes of hers, and, hey, it’s not like the world would end if he hit on the woman.
     Since the dís are a dwindling species, The Norns, Sam’s bosses, are trying to matchmake Sam and Luke. Only, the last time they played cupids England almost collapsed. Plus, there’s the issue of human men going insane once they’ve had sex with a dís. And Sam could die from a broken heart. Oh, and there’s the little matter of when a dís gets upset she can cause apocalyptic events. But it might be worth it for love. Then again, the Norns have been stalking Oprah lately, and there’s no guessing if they’re merely insane or certifiably brilliant.

Available at:     Amazon         iBooks          Barnes & Noble    And other retail book sellers


Excerpt:
     “I never sleep,” she said.
     “Never?”
     Now she smiled. “Of course I sleep. I mean, I don’t when I’m—I don’t need—I mean, I slept with you.”
     “I noticed.”
     She reached a hand out, almost touching his cheek, but stopped. “Are you okay?”
     He had to refrain from wincing. Again, he was reminded she was here for him because she wanted to comfort him. She didn’t want to get in his pants and see what the hell had inappropriately sprung to life.
     She probably thought him too old. He was too old for her. But as soon as he’d told himself as much, the thought flickered away like a spring butterfly, especially as he looked down at her wide lucid brown eyes.
     He nodded. “Are you okay?”
     “I—” she looked genuinely perplexed. “I never sleep.”
     “You sure about that?” he teased.
     She grinned again. “I sound like a broken record, don’t I?”
     “Do kids your age still use that expression? Do you even know what a broken record is?”
     She laughed. “Hey, I’ve listened to many a Forty-Five in my day.”
     He popped his brows up. “I’m impressed. You even know the lingo. But don’t tell me you listen to records because the sound quality is better.”
     “It is better.”
     He rolled onto his back, flinging his free hand over his eyes. “God, you’re not one of those, are you?”
     She scooted closer to him. Now, she propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him, but his arm was still under her. “Who are those?”
     “Those people who talk on and on about the difference between digital sound versus…I don’t know…versus anything else.”
     She shook her head. “There’s a huge difference in the sound quality. Can’t you hear it? Or are you too old?”
     He chuckled at her mocking, removing his hand from his face. “Okay. I have to know. How old are you, missy?”
     “Missy?”
     “Yeah, missy.”
     Her smile turned mischievous. “I can’t tell you how old I am.”
     “Why not?” He suddenly swallowed. “Jesus, you are over eighteen, aren’t you? Oh god.”
     She started to laugh as he placed his hand over his face again. “I’m older than eighteen, yes.”
     “Thank god.”
     “I’m quite a bit older than eighteen.”
     “I doubt it.”
     She bit her bottom lip, still not telling him, and in the process giving him a heart attack from worrying she was much too young. Or maybe his heart was spasming because he loved this fun banter they had.
     Deciding to confess his age, he said, “I’m thirty-three. Am I…ten years older than you?”
     “No.”
     “Twelve years older than you?”
     “I’m not twenty-one.”
     “Are you older than twenty-one?”
     “Of course I am.” She rolled her eyes.
     “Twenty-two?”
     She sighed. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone.”
     “Or you’ll have to kill me? Are you a spy? Is your age a national security issue?”
     She giggled, shaking her head. “Ready, Mr. Smarty Pants?”
     He took in a dramatic breath. “I’m bracing myself. Hit me with it.”
     Her smile fell away as she said, “I’m one thousand, seven hundred twenty-six years old.”
     “Wow, that’s—that’s very detailed.”

About Red:
     As a military historian by day, sometimes Red does feel a bit clandestine when she writes romance at night. No one knows that while she researches heroes of the past and present, she uses everything for her characters in her books. Her secret's been safe . . . until now.
     She lives in Montana with her family and far too many animals but never enough books.
     She loves her readers, so please feel free to contact her at http://www.redljameson.com


You can find Red L. Jameson at:
Website        Blog        Facebook        Amazon Author Page
Pinterest        Goodreads       Twitter: @RedLJameson

Tuesday Special: Red L. Jameson

Red L. Jameson

www.redljameson.com

Kidnapping mortals to different eras is such fun. Trickster muse sisters, Clio and Erato, call it a glimpse, but military historian Minerva Ferguson, Erva, is fairly certain she’s gone nuts when she wakes two hundred miles from her apartment. And two hundred years in the past to Brooklyn, 1776. In an unfamiliar manse, during the American Revolutionary War, she’s not too sure how to regain her sanity. Especially when she realizes whose mansion she’s just woken in, the one British general she studied more than anything else, Lord William Hill.

When Will hears Erva’s screams of panic, he breaks down a door to save her, even if he can’t quite remember why she’s visiting. She calms, though, the instant she sees him, as if they’ve known each other for eons. From the second he sees her dressed in a toga made from a bed sheet to later when she’s with his troops, wooing them with her musket skills, he realizes he’s smitten. But he’s a weary soldier, shrouded in grief, while she reminds him of a sun goddess. Is she too good for him? Lord, how he wants her to want him.

How could Erva not fall for a guy who accidentally quotes a Cheap Trick song? But now she has to get to the bottom of if Will is really a rake, how to stop one of the most important battles of the war, and lastly how to stop her insane crush on the general. After all, he’s going to die in less than a week.

The muses have to work fast for this glimpse. But that’s when they work best. And as explosions erupt through New York, sometimes it’s not from the artillery.


Excerpt
     “Why are you—” She stopped herself again. This time she bit her lush bottom lip and looked away.
     “Why am I what?” He should have let her question falter, but he had to know for himself if she were a spy or not. The more questions she asked, the more she would reveal herself.
     The anomalous thought flittered through his mind though that he wasn’t too sure if he cared if she were a spy.
     She glanced back up at him, her eyes wide and timid. “Why are you here?”
     That, he hadn’t expected. A spy would wonder about his men, his drills, his arms, anything else that mattered to the war. Not a philosophical question about why he was here. But even the reason why he was here could be used against him, if court martialed. He hadn’t realized that thus far. Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t have survived this long in the war. In his mind, he would have no reason to be court martialed. He wouldn’t be alive for it.
     She licked her lips and slightly shook her head. “I mean, you didn’t vote for any of the acts the Americans protested. The newspapers said that you didn’t support any kind of action against the Americans. You don’t support this war, yet here you are. Why?”
     “Why not?” He tried to deflect the conversation.
     She narrowed her eyes, no longer looking sheepish but challenging, ruthless, and so lovely. He liked her best like this, shooting faster than most of his men, speaking of sedition to his superiors, the Howe brothers. Lord, how he liked it when her eyes caught fire and turned back into dark red-brown honey. His veins pumped his too hot blood through his body.
     “Why not, hmm?” She gave him a wicked smile. “Why not, indeed. I think you don’t want to be here.”
     “On the contrary, there is no other place I’d rather be.”
     She blinked, then caught his meaning that standing so close to her was exactly where he’d love to be. Arching a blonde brow, she said, “You know what I mean, obtuse man.”
     He silently chuckled at his new name.
     “I think you don’t want to be in this war.”
     He felt his own mirth leave his face. “You might be right.”
     “Then why are you here? Why do you fight? Especially so efficiently?”
     “Do I?”
     She growled, making Will grin again. “Quit evading the questions with your own.”
     “Why? This is fun.”
     She smacked one of his shoulders, then he caught her small hand in his.
     “Is this fun for you too?” he asked, carefully gauging her reaction as he twined his fingers through hers.
     She didn’t look at their hands. Instead, her gaze was focused on his chest. He especially enjoyed that, as if she found him desirable. Lord, he hoped so, that he wasn’t making a fool of himself.
     She never answered, but looked up at him, her long lashes batting. He took hold of her candle and set it on a nearby table. In so doing he’d gotten that much closer to her, and just as he was thinking of holding her other hand, she reached up, probably on her toes, and kissed him.
     This time he reacted immediately. His lips melded with hers. She tasted strongly of mint, and he licked the seam of her lips to enjoy. She opened for him, and he dove his tongue into her mouth. God, she was sweet. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he pulled her closer by holding onto her not-corseted waist. Next her tongue was inside his mouth, and he couldn’t help but pull her even closer, her stomach against his, her breasts crushed against his chest.
     Will felt Erva fiddle with the ribbon at the nape of his neck, and his hair was released from its hold. Instantly, her hands raked through his mane. It gave him silent permission to finally take hold of her tresses with one of his hands. Pure silk ran through his fingers. He loved her long hair, so wild and free this moment. Like the color of corn silk, Erva’s locks were close to white with a light dandelion sheen. He fisted what he held, which tilted her head back, all the better to deepen the kiss. She moaned into his mouth. All his blood rushed south. That little noise was his undoing.


You can find Red L. Jameson at:
Website          Blog        Facebook        Amazon Author Page       Pinterest
Twitter: @RedLJameson

Buy Links:
Amazon       Barnes & Noble      iBookstore       Universal link for Enemy of Mine

As a military historian by day, sometimes Red does feel a bit clandestine when she writes romance at night. No one knows that while she researches heroes of the past and present, she uses everything for her characters in her books. Her secret's been safe . . . until now.

She lives in Montana with her family and far too many animals but never enough books.

She loves her readers, so please feel free to contact her at http://www.redljameson.com

An Interview with Red Jameson

The Write Way Café welcomes Red L. Jameson, who shares her unique perspective on writing and addressing writer's block.


When did you first have the thought you'd like to write a book? Was that first thought related to writing romance?
     I began creating stories before I could write the alphabet. I loved cursive writing, still do, so back then I’d string a lot of curlicues together to create my “words,” tape or glue everything together, then force my poor brother to listen to my tales while he was strapped into his highchair. 
     Then, a few years after that, when my friends and I played Barbies, it was always with these outlandish plots. I swear to God that a friend of mine and I created the television show Lost WAY before it ever aired. Eventually, Barbies gave way to just talking about our “stories.” And by the time of middle school our “stories” were all about romance. 
     It’s odd, but from high school until many, many, many years later, my writing didn’t have much in the way of romance. It took me a long time to steer back to romance, and I’m so much happier for it.

Did you face any blocks while writing the book, and if so, how did you handle them? If not, what's your secret?
     It wasn’t until more than ten years into writing that I suffered my first block, and, man, it sucks. I think each writer’s block is personal. So, for me, I had to figure out what was personally blocking me. I hadn’t taken a break for many years. I mean, I hadn’t even taken a break when my mother passed away. I kept writing and working my day job and going and going and going until eventually I had my block. The words weren’t coming to me; the story wasn’t coming to me; nothing was happening. The more I panicked over the situation, the worse it got. That’s when I—forgive me for sounding all new agey—stepped into my panic and surrounded myself with the block. Instead of fighting it, I surrendered to it. It helped me see I needed to take a break every so often. It helped me to understand what I was going through, and, in turn, that helped my writing become more emotional and more creative. I think having the block aided my writing, but, again, it does suck when going through it. 

What have been surprises you've encountered while writing the book and after?
     Duchess of Mine follows the real travels of Detective Frank Geyer on his now infamous case of trying to find missing children. I knew his trek would begin in Philadelphia and go to Cincinnati, Detroit, Toronto, and other cities of late-nineteenth century America. What surprised me the most was Detroit’s history. I’d driven through the city only once, and I never would have imaged it had been called the Paris of America. It had been the epicenter of culture, art, as well as an economic stronghold. Now, when I think of the abandoned buildings of Detroit, I can see it’s beautiful past. 
     And what’s surprised me after writing the book? Hmm...how many compliments I’ve gotten for the cover. I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. J

Tell us about your writing space and how or why it works for you.
     I converted the guest room into my office. It still has a small bed, but now my dog sleeps on it. Yes, spoiled black lab he is. I have a huge 1970s desk that I love to write on, a filing cabinet for my research, and other assorted office supplies. Oh! I almost forgot to talk about my laptop! You see, I finally made the big religious conversion of switching to a Mac, and I am in love with all things Apple now. I have seen the light and I could go on and on about user-friendly computers, but I’ll rein it in now. 

What are some of your favorite books and why?
     To Kill a Mockingbird will continue to be a favorite of mine until eternity. As I age and reread it, I am more and more amazed at the power of that story, the craft of it, how beautiful it is. Yeah, I love that one.  
     I didn’t start reading romance until ten years ago. So I have a lot of catching up to do. And I feel if I started listing off favorite books of mine, I’d forget something really good. So let’s just say, I have tons of favorites. And lately paranormal romance has been my favorite subgenre. 

What are you working on now?
     Ha! The last question segues into this one perfectly! I am working on a paranormal romance series now. I love time-travel romance and always will. BUT I really wanted to work with a more modern setting, modern jargon. Plus I’ve been dying to work with some contemporary military heroes, which I can do now! Squee! The new series features many paranormal elements with military men. Wish me luck with that!

Would you like to try your hand at writing a different genre?  Which one and why?
     Well, I don’t think I’ll ever veer far from the romance genre, but I do want to dive into more subgenres. I’ve had a contemporary crossover mystery idea I’ve been thinking of for more than twelve years. It would be much darker than anything I’ve written so far, but I can’t wait to write it. And erotic romance is something I’ve thought about a lot too. Gosh, I’d like to write it all! 

If you were not a writer, what would your dream job be?
     Honestly, if writing wasn’t available, I think I’d shrivel up into a dustball. I LOVE writing and I can hardly think of doing anything else. 
     And even though I’m an historian, I don’t think I’d like to do much more in academia. Sorry to all those in Academia Land, but if I had to figure out one more index, I’d have torn out all my hair. So, if I really had to pick something else it would be a close call between photography or fashion. I’m in love with all the artistic things photographers can do and am a hobbyist photographer myself. But I would love to make clothes that looked beautiful for real-sized women. Maybe I’d do both!

What aspect of writing gives you the most trouble?
     It wasn’t until I was published that I ran into some serious trouble. See, I’m a people pleaser. I don’t mind getting a bad review. But my problem is I want to make that particular reviewer happy. So sometimes I’d be writing my next story, thinking about how to make that reviewer happier with the next book. BUT I can’t do that. I need to only focus on what will make THAT particular book better. And sometimes there will be no pleasing some people. I had a negative review for tying up all the loose ends at the end of my book. And there have been a few times where the negative reviews might not even be about my books. I had one review where the reviewer talked about characters I had never written about. 
     I have to say that writing has really helped me with my people please problem in that I don’t do it nearly as much. Instead, I try to focus on what’s best for that particular book. And I ask my editor and my critique buddies too who’s opinion I value but don’t feel the need to please. See, that’s why I love writing! Helping me personally as well as professionally!

Who is your favorite hero/heroine?
     Of my own books, I have to say my favorite hero and heroine are in my latest release, Duchess of Mine. Gabby Murray and Michael Cameron had me laughing a lot while writing about them. Sometimes, they had me in tears too, which I love to connect that much with my characters. 
     Of hero/heroines of all time...gosh, that’s a toughie. Well, my first thoughts are of some of my favorite movies. I love The Fifth Element, for the kick-ass heroine Leeloo who saves the world, and the scarred but sweet Korben Dallas. There’s Hawkeye in the movie rendition of The Last of the Mohicans, saying, “Stay alive. I will find you. No matter how long it takes. No matter how far. I will find you.” Oh, my heart flutters when thinking about that. And I loved Broken Sword and Flying Snow in the movie Hero, even though they had a sad ending.  Maybe I just loved them because of the amazing cinematography of Hero. It really is one of the most visually beautiful movies of all time, but I did enjoy the love between the hero and heroine, both assassins. So cool!  

**Book 4 of The Glimpse Time Travel Series, where mythical muses play naughty matchmakers**

Seventeenth century Highlander Michael Cameron should have been prepared for his journey to Philadelphia in 1895. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd been kidnapped by two mischievous muses, who delighted in taking him by surprise and shuffling him off to far-flung lands and eras. But nothing could have readied him for angelic Gabriella Murray, the Duchess of Northampton. She’s a beautiful, lovely, gorgeous—did he mention just how bonny Gabby is?—duchess, and he’s a lowly Scot. How is he going to solve the missing children case the muses have given him with such a distracting woman?

Becoming friends with a muse, Gabby feels her life has taken a turn for the fantastic, which suits her fine, since being a duchess is gray and depressing. So, when that muse asks her to go on an adventure imitating her idol, Sherlock Holmes, of course she says yes. However, Michael, who is to play her Dr. Watson, is quite possibly the most handsome and intriguing Highlander she’s ever encountered. Lord, Sherlock never had to contend with an overwhelming desire for Watson. How can she concentrate on the case when he’s more fun than she’s ever had before?

As Michael and Gabby hunt through the mean streets of cities such as Chicago and Detroit, they dive deeper into a world of danger and violence. Fighting against their growing attraction to each other, they race against time to find the children, knowing that with every corner they turn, they might be too late.

Amazon       iBooks        Barnes & Noble     Universal link for Duchess of Mine
Also available at other retail book sellers

About Red:   As a military historian by day, sometimes Red does feel a bit clandestine when she writes romance at night. No one knows that while she researches heroes of the past and present, she uses everything for her characters in her books. Her secret's been safe . . . until now.  She lives in Montana with her family and far too many animals but never enough books.  She loves her readers, so please feel free to contact her at http://www.redljameson.com 

You can find Red L. Jameson at . . .

Website          Blog          Facebook          Amazon Author Page 

Pinterest          Goodreads        Twitter: @RedLJameson