My guest today is Barbara Bettis, a lovely, warm lady who's always so supportive of other writers. She's a fellow author at The Wild Rose Press. And I am super, super thrilled to have her here.
Hi Vonnie. Thanks for the warm welcome. I’m so happy to be on your delightful blog today. I remember sometime ago when you appeared on my blog, you offered to host me when I finally published. That day is finally here! J WooHoo!
And today is a good day: It’s the official starting day of the second half of my year. That may sound odd, but it leads into to a question you had asked:
What is your life like away from the computer?
I’m an English comp instructor at a nearby college, and I spend most of my time away from the computer at home grading essays. Actually, it works out fine, because during holidays, I revise my writing schedule. Ironically I’ve found I’m more organized when I have several demands on my time. When I finally retire—to devote more time to writing—my first challenge will be to make sure I have specific deadlines so that I still feel that urgency.
You have my dream job--teaching college level English composition. Sadly, I'm a tad old for a career change. Tell us, what are you currently working on?
Right now I’m completing edits on my next medieval The Heart of the Phoenix, Evie’s story. I’m also working on the account of how her brother Henry met his wife, Katherine. Looks like that will be a novella. Its working title is Lady of the Forest. The action actually takes place immediately after the final battle in Silverhawk, and features the end (at last) of the villain, Sir Paxton. (Don’t you love the way our characters seem like real people?)
They are real...in our minds and hearts. If your new release were being made into a movie who would you cast to play your heroine and hero?
I’m so glad you asked that question. J
Silverhawk /Giles—definitely Richard Armitage (with light gray eyes, of course.) In fact, his photo served as inspiration throughout the writing of the book.
Emelin is a bit more difficult to choose. I finally settled on Amy Adams.
1. Heels, sneakers or flip-flops?
2. Chocolate, champagne or cheesecake?
Yes, please. Oh, I have to choose...only...one? Dang. Chocolate, I suppose.
3. SUV, sports car or minivan?
I could do a small SUV. It must be small or I’ll run into things.
4. Earrings, bracelets or navel piercing?
Earrings. I love bracelets but they clatter on the desk when I’m typing.
5. Fav vacation destination: beach, mountains or city?
City (I’m thinking London)
He’s everything a proper lady should never want; she’s everything a bastard mercenary can never have.
Sir Giles has come to England to kill his father, who seduced and betrayed his mother. First, however, he’ll seek sweet revenge—kidnap the old lord’s new betrothed. But when Giles uncovers a plot against King Richard, he faces a dilemma: take the lady or track the traitors. What’s a good mercenary to do? Both, of course.
Lady Emelin has had enough. Abandoned in a convent by her brother, she finally has a chance for home and family. Yet now she’s been abducted. Her kidnapper may be the image of her dream knight, but she won’t allow him to spoil this betrothal. Her only solution: escape.
Rescuing the intrepid lady—while hunting traitors—is a challenge Giles couldn’t anticipate. But the greatest challenge to Giles and Emelin is the fire blazing between them. For he’s everything a proper lady should never want, and she’s everything a bastard mercenary can never have.
The Lady’s Garden. Such a grand name for the stick and weed enclosure beside the keep. Giles eased open the weathered door, the faded wood rough against his fingers. He tipped his shoulder to slip through the narrow opening. The musty smell of plants gone to seed hung in the air, and he inhaled the odor. Strange, the comfort he felt, like a flash of memory.
He glanced around. Where was his quarry? Moonlight flooded the enclosure, and several bonfires in the bailey sent wavering light bobbing over the fence top. Emelin knelt at a patch of what looked like dead grass, undoubtedly remnants of flowers. Perhaps they’d resembled the colorful blossoms that once dotted his mother’s palm-sized yard. How she’d loved the sparse but fragrant blooms that escaped their one hen’s search for food. His head jerked. God’s blood! Why had those thoughts surfaced just now, of a nearly forgotten long ago? This was neither time nor place for childish reminiscence.
Intent once more on the graceful figure before him, he picked his way through the tangle of growth. She wore the same green gown as when he arrived, some kind of embroidered figures at the neck and wrist. The color suited her vibrant auburn hair, draped now with a flimsy square of fine white linen. He should have known the color would be fiery to match her spirit.
As he advanced, the bright moonlight cast his shoulders as a darker shadow on the ground ahead. By the rigid set of her back, he knew she heard him.
She sat back on her heels with an exaggerated sigh. “Would you move your shoulders, Sir Knight? They block what meager light I’ve found.”
If a tone could cross its arms and tap its toe, hers did. A lightness inside him felt shockingly like a smile. That’s why he was here. She amused him.
“Where would you like me to move them, my lady?”
“London, I should think.”