My guest today is the lovely and talented Amy Jarecki. And she's quite smart, too, which I adore. Amy has written several Scottish historical romances while I am finishing up final edits on my first Scottish contemporary paranormal. Because she once studied Scotland, her stories ring true with accurate details thanks to her meticulous research.
Amy, tell us what
part of the writing process brings you the most pleasure? The most angst?
This is a great question. When I first started writing, I loved
the drafting process, my fingers flying across the keyboard, the story coming
to life as fast as I could type. But now that I have a dozen manuscripts under
my belt, I actually prefer the revision process. Drafting is still fun, but as
I draft, I know I cannot make the story as good as it can be. Only through the
revision process can I massage the words and bring the story alive.
Has your road to publication been a walk in
the park or a steep mountain climb? Give us some details?
I would definitely say a
steep mountain climb. Very few people find this an easy road. I wrote two
novels in the late 90’s. They’re now buried in a shallow grave. Due to life
happening with kids, divorce, work promotions, taking care of aging parents…you
name it, I didn’t write another manuscript until 2010. That book, Boy Man Chief
(a Native American historical fantasy), won the Utah League of Writers Award
for Best Manuscript and the Spark Book Award, and was published by a small
press. Then I decided to try my luck with romance…contemporary and romantic
suspense. I sold four more books to another small press and started writing
historical romance (after all, I got my Master’s degree in Scotland). I won a
few more contests, got a New York agent…and I still consider myself climbing
the mountain. Will I ever reach the top? Who knows, but I’m having one heck of
a time on this journey!
Tell us about your current release…or soon
to be release.
I’m so glad you asked! *rubs
hands and waggles eyebrows* CAPTURED BY THE PIRATE LAIRD is a sinfully sexy Scottish historical romance
which features a rugged Scottish warrior whose only care is the protection of
his clan…until an English gentlewoman ignites in him a fevered desire so
powerful, it threatens to ruin them all.
Ohh, we do love sinfully sexy, don't we, ladies? *Vonnie waggles her eyebrows, too* Now for some quick questions...
FAST FIVE:
1. 
Heels, sneakers or
flip-flops?
Pink flip flops.
2. Chocolate,
champagne or cheesecake?
Champagne…but only one glass.
3. SUV, sports car or
minivan?
Sports car…a vintage one in red or pink.
4. Earrings, bracelets
or navel piercing?
Earrings…dangly ones that sparkle.
5. Fav vacation
destination: beach, mountains or city?
Scotland…the Highlands.
Now, share your cover and blurb, Amy...
BLURB:
Wed by proxy to a baron old
enough to be her grandfather, Lady Anne trudges up the gangway of a galleon
that will deliver her into the arms of a tyrant. Crestfallen, she believes her
disastrous life cannot get worse—until she awakes to the blasts of cannon fire.
Facing certain death, Anne
trembles in her stateroom while swords clash and the chilling screams of battle
rage on the deck above. When a rugged Highlander kicks in her door, she prays
for a swift end.
But Laird Calum MacLeod has a
reason for plundering the ship—and it’s not a stunning English lass. With no
other choice, he takes Anne to his crumbling keep on the isle of Raasay and
sends a letter of ransom to her husband. In time, Anne grows to understand
MacLeod’s plight and finds it increasingly difficult to resist Calum’s
unsettling charm—until the baron sends a reply agreeing to terms.
Ripped from passion that will
be forever seared into their souls, will Anne and Calum risk everything for
love?
Captured by the Pirate Laird ~ First Kiss:
Anne turned and caught him staring. He bowed and his heart melted when
she smiled—a smile with dimples that could light up the horizon. He half
expected her to turn up her pert little nose and head the other way.
Before he could persuade himself otherwise, Calum pattered down the steps
and stood beside her. She watched the sunset and her warmth pulled him close
like a magnet.
“’Tis beautiful,” she said when the sky shone with orange and pink,
highlighted against the strips of clouds that sailed toward the ship.
He inhaled. Her scent ever so feminine, Calum inclined his head to
capture more of it. “Aye, milady.”
She placed her hand on the rail. Again his reflexes took over and he
rested his palm atop it. Calum expected her to snatch it away, but she did not.
Her fingers were cold and he held his much warmer hand there as a comfort. They
stood in silence as the sun glowed orange-red on the horizon. He wanted to
stand there forever—touching her. Barely breathing, he watched the sun
disappear and held his hand still, unwilling to move it.
The sun was replaced by darkness. Lady Anne slipped her hand out from
under his and the dark of the evening took up residence inside him. She was not
his to lust after. “May I walk you to your stateroom?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded husky. Had she felt the connection too? Of course not.
Calum offered his arm and that same small, cold hand grasped it. “We’ll
arrive at Raasay in the morning.”
“Our destination?”
“Aye.”
“Bran told me.”
Secrets were impossible to keep on a ship. “I will send a letter of
ransom to yer husband upon our arrival.” He didn’t like how that sounded—ye are my prisoner until Lord Wharton pays
for your release. But that’s how it had to be. If he sailed up the mouth of
the River Aln, he would incite yet another war between Scotland and England—and
this time his countrymen might side with the enemy.
When they stepped into the corridor, warm air relaxed the tension in his
shoulders.
Anne stopped outside her cabin door, breasts straining against her bodice
with every breath. “I’ve never met him.”
Calum forced himself to concentrate on her face. “Who?”
“Lord Wharton.”
“What? How?”
“We were wed by proxy. My uncle made the arrangements.”
Ah Jesus. Calum understood the
way of highborn marriages, arranged for the trade of lands and riches. “Ye ken
he’s old enough to be your father?”
“He’s three times my age plus one year to be exact. His children are
older than I.”
A hundred questions flooded his mind. “Why?” he clipped with shocked disbelief.
Anne nodded as if fully understanding his monosyllabic inquiry. “I’m told
the Baron fancied me from across Westminster Abbey during the Queen’s
coronation.”
“No.” She doesn’t even know the
bastard. That’s why she wears no ring.
“Yes. My uncle said he kissed my hand, yet so many lords greeted me on
that trip to London, I’m at a loss to place him.”
The despair in her lovely eyes twisted around his heart. “Mayhap ye will
remember if we playact it.” With a halfcocked grin, Calum reached for her hand.
His mouth went dry when her silken skin met the rough pads of his fingertips.
Though a grown woman, her fingers were fine and delicate.
When she didn’t pull away, he moistened his lips and bowed. Hovering
above her hand, the soft scent of honeysuckle mixed with her—the unmistakable
scent of woman now more captivating than it had been on the deck—ignited his
insides as if she stood naked before him. Closing his eyes, he touched his lips
to the back of her hand and kissed. Anne’s sharp inhale made his skin shiver
with gooseflesh. She did not try to pull away but remained so still, her pulse
beat a fierce rhythm beneath.
Calum held his lips there longer than necessary. He wanted this moment to
linger. He wanted a memory he could cherish long after she was gone. His eyes
locked with hers as he straightened. Her lips parted slightly, almost as if
asking him to kiss her mouth, but he knew she wouldn’t want that.
He stood for a moment not saying a word. She did too.
“Any recollection?” His voice rasped.
“No.” Her voice low, she then blinked as if snapping back to the present.
“You mustn’t ever do that again.”
“Apologies, milady.” Grinning, he opened her door and bowed, though he
did not regret her lack of recall.
Anne stepped into her stateroom. Calum could not pull his gaze away until
the door closed and blocked the bewilderment reflected in her sapphire eyes.
Calum waited a moment and stared at the hardwood door—the same one he had
kicked in five nights ago. What the hell was he doing?
He ground his teeth and headed back to the quarterdeck. He needed to get
the lady out of his life. She was not his to care for. Worst of all, she had
wed the enemy.
WHERE CAN WE FIND YOU ONLINE?
Twitter: @amyjarecki
