Sunday, October 19, 2014


Okay, yes, I missed posting my Pick Me Up Thursday blog.  I am so sorry, but it was not a good day for me. I found out I needed a new furnace, my eye drops could not be picked up for upcoming cataract surgery, and I lost my debit card.  Can we say ouch?

Things have now reconciled themselves, so I am ready to tell you what I’ve been doing. Homework, homework, and more homework.  GOTTA love the midterm of the semester. NOT!  On a lighter side, I did get to read a book and then start a new one.

How many of ya’ll like to relax by being taken away from everyday life?

Please stop by and let me know!

Hugs and since I will be having surgery on Thursday, I will try to get my blog finished and ready to be released before I leave home that morning.

Monday, October 13, 2014


Let’s make welcome, a wonderful author of multiple genres, and one of my dearest friends. Not to mention a tremendously awesome critique partner. Eliza is a talent to be reckoned with. She can pop out an erotic romance, then switch to contemporary, or do a fascinating paranormal!  Today we are honored to have her with us on this first day of her newest release, “Witch’s Tattoo.”  
Hi, Faith and everyone visiting today! I’m ready for your interrogation, but when I saw the questions, I recalled you’re taking a criminology course. So shoot!
Faith: Please, tell us a little bit about yourself.
Eliza: There is no telling a little bit about me. I’m sixty-seven, and I have lived a very full life. Married to the same man I met when I was twenty, and five children, three grandchildren, and several business later, here I am. I didn’t began writing fiction until after my children were grown. Genealogy sparked my interest in fiction about eighteen years ago—along with years of reading and a lot of red wine. (Darn you, Harlequin Reader Service, those books, bookmarks, and wine glasses almost did me in.)

Faith: Have you always wanted to write, and if so at what age?

Eliza: I always feel so inept answering this question because the answer is “no” not really, but sort of. I always said, “Gee, someday I should write a book,” and rolled my eyes because…well, who doesn’t? And I guess I did actually write all my life, but it was journalistic, educational, and copy writing. When the day came that I did write fiction, it was nothing like what I’d thought about writing in the past.

Faith: Did you fall into writing erotic romance because it was something you've always wanted to do?

Eliza: Heck NO! I never even thought about it. I wrote my stories and my characters were just naughty! I was totally shocked by their behavior, (but apparently, I was good at telling it). While I was writing my first book, I believe I developed a great deal of sexual tension and, as a result, had to get it out of my system with my next several erotic romance novellas. WINK

Faith: What can you tell us about the flavor of your first erotic romance book? I believe that would be Hot Highland Fling? 

Eliza: That was the first book contracted, but was actually the second erotic book I’d written. I wrote it to The Wild Rose Press’ specifications. I had a snarky, American heroine, who was tired of dating the too-busy-climbing-the-ladder-to-success executives. In that novella, when she is assigned to write an article about a Highland lord, she begins imagining her own sexual revolution with some great looking men in kilts. Actually, the first erotic book I wrote was a paranormal ménage. I like the freedom of paranormal stories, but the world building is so much more difficult than contemporary writing where the reader knows all the rules.

Faith: Today is a very special day for you; your newest release, the Witch’s Tattoo is available now.

Eliza: Yes, it’s my first mainstream paranormal romance novella. I’m branching out. I wrote Witch’s Tattoo for The Wild Rose Press to be part of the Halloween in the Garden Anthology. Don’t get me wrong, it’s mainstream, but still hot’n’spicy. I had to learn how to write sexual tension all over again.

Faith: How much research did you do on this book?

Eliza: For such a short book, I found there was a great deal I needed to know about the subject matter. You may not experience the benefits of my research in this book, but you probably haven’t seen the end of my world of witches and warlocks.

Faith: Is there anything in particular that inspires you?

Eliza: Most of my stories are inspired by a singular scene—a flight of fancy. I see a vision and my imagination takes it from there. For instance, Hot Highland Fling was inspired by that age-old question about the kilt. And then the characters take over the story. More Than Stud (the story of a forty-something female executive with her biological clock ticking like a time bomb ready to go off) was inspired by a birthday cake with too many candles. Across a Crowded Room was inspired by two scenes in someone else’s book. One was the library scene in Linda Howard’s, All the Queen’s Men and the other one was the one in the ballroom. The books are completely dissimilar but inspiration only means that one thing stimulates your imagination.

Faith: I understand you have also written mainstream romance before?

Eliza: Yes. The very first book I wrote was Across a Crowded Room, a romantic suspense written under my Elizabeth Marchat pseudonym. It wasn’t published until several years after some of my other books. Also, I’ve been working on a mainstream fantasy series for quite a few years. I have a working title and two books in the series written, but I’d like to complete them all before trying to shop them around. I believe every author has her favorite book concept and this one is mine. I want to get it right. 

Faith: Can you tell us a little about your other books?

Eliza: My other erotic romances, published by Siren-Bookstrand are great fun, great sex, and great heroes. Any Way West and Dual Bondage: Roped and Tied are about the world of Hollywood Cowboys—the stuntmen who are the muscle and the brains behind the movie heroes. And The Enchanted Mountain series is a paranormal sexual fantasy ménage trip that takes place near Artic, CO. WereCat Fever was a finalist in the RomCon Reader’s Choice Royal Crown Awards last year and The Moon, The Madness, and The Magic was a Golden Quill Finalist the year before.

Faith: If you could only write one genre, what would that be?

Eliza: That’s easy. Paranormal. No boundaries. I play by the rules so having fewer restrictions suits me.

Faith: Can you tell us what book you’ve written is your favorite and why?

Eliza: That’s like asking me which is my favorite child. I’ll tell you what I tell them. I like each of them the best. Like my children, each of my books has something to commend it, a special feeling, and a certain quality I admire.

Your favorite character?

Eliza: That’s impossible. Every one of my heroes is special to me…and I have so many of them. GRIN. So far, one of my favorite characters is a secondary character who keeps showing up in several of my books. Ramon Delavega is an unknown. Who he is and what he is remains a mystery. There are clues in every book, but so far, no one knows for certain. (Ramon, in Defeat the Darkness and Conquer the Highland Beast, will also play a significant role in Damn the Darkness.)

Faith: What are you planning for your next book?
Eliza: Since recently republishing The Leopard, The Lion, and The Wolf and Witch of Air and Fire, I have a commitment to finish the Hearts of Darkness series. I’ve left a few of the guys hanging on for dear life. I should probably wrap up their stories before moving on. I may try to put out one a year as long as the series holds up. I’d also like to write the story of Desmond and Marisa, the fallen angels from Witch’s Tattoo.

Faith: What advice would you give an aspiring author?

Eliza: Write for yourself. Learn your craft. Listen to your heart. Have patience. Don’t let anyone deter you from your dreams. Don’t read your reviews until you understand you can’t please everyone.

Faith: Which particular author has inspired you to write?

Eliza: Well, of course, as I said, Linda Howard. But Nora Roberts was probably the one author who made me believe I could do it.

Faith: Please tell us where we can find you and your books on the web.

Eliza: Please, follow my BLOG. I’ve been talking to myself
there for years. I love interacting with readers though, and we have no limitations like we do at so many of the social media sites. Here are my links:


Witch's Tattoo
by Eliza March
Rating: Hot
Male heads turned and testosterone levels rose. Hard to miss all that sexual magnetism. Michael’s possessive instincts kicked in, and he had to garner control to force back the jealousy.

The skirt she wore barely covered her sexy ass—like a black leather napkin filled with wicked delights. Damn, the witch 
looked hot enough to melt ice-forged steel. He tortured himself with the image of her wearing just the pendant and the boots—thigh high, black leather cut in lacy patterns, exposing her creamy skin below.

The tips of her long black hair brushed her narrow waist the way it had the night he watched her in the scrying mirror. His fingers twitched with the desire to trace her plunging neckline. A neckline that bared her deep cleavage and the pendant. He marveled at the way the metal settled between 

her pale ivory mounds, and imagined how warm the medallion grew against her soft flesh.

As she planted herself in front of him with one hip cocked defiantly and her hand outstretched, he warred with his inner needs. Michael held back to inspect each lovely inch of her and savor the moment. He couldn’t wait for the inevitable. To touch, to taste, to conquer…and to surrender. But not here. Not now.




Sunday, October 12, 2014


Good afternoon, everyone!  I hope you’ve all had a good weekend. Mine hasn’t been bad. Still having some trouble with my back, but getting some work done. Yesterday, I became the proud mama of MacGregor Ramsey Smith.  NO, not a mortal child but a furry one. He came from the shelter and is an adorable mix of Schnauzer and. Shih Tzu.

Regardless of playing mama, I did get some homework squared away, and I plan on doing more today.

What I really want to talk about is tomorrow. YES, tomorrow on my blog we have have guest author Eliza March on board. Her newest release “Witch’s Tattoo” will be available also tomorrow.  She is a personal friend, a fantastic author, and a wonderful critique partner.  So please mark your calendar’s and come over and visit!

Thursday, October 9, 2014


On today’s Thursday Pick Me Up, let’s talk about heroes.  What makes them who they are, and what we love about them.  I personally love my own guys!  Zacke, Miles, Gideon, Hawk, Ian, Wulf, Derek, Tiernan, and Gareth.  This group of men came unbidden into my dreams, my life, and dove into my computer.  I pretty much lived, breathed, and worried about their problems, until I finished writing their stories.

Zacke came to me in a dream when I wasn’t expecting it. I wrote the first three chapters of Kensington’s Soul for a contest, but did not place. I got pulled into his lonely but so worthy life as a vampire/detective.  As for Miles, he and Hawk walked right into the pages of the first book in my, Bound By Blood, The Legends series. I never saw them coming.  But once they landed on a roof in Savannah in their kilts they were here to stay.

Miles was always a protector of children and women, and he carried that torch in Dunbar’s Curse.  Gideon, Zacke’s mortal partner knew almost from the beginning his best friend had fangs, but it didn’t matter to him.  He got his own story in Gideon’s Heart. Hawk is waiting on the sidelines. He hasn’t told me quite yet what he is looking for in a woman, and he is carrying a load of guilt over what happened in book three.

I know what I love about these four guys—their hearts, souls, their desperate need to help others while fighting evil, but I want to hear what you like in a hero also. 

Don’t hesitate to drop me a comment or an email, I’m always available to fans!  Next week, we’ll explore how my other men came to be.

Until then, read a book, kiss a loved one, and have a blessed week!

Sunday, October 5, 2014


I am so sorry.  I am running woefully behind this week. I did not get a chance to post my Thursday Pick Me Up, and now I'm trailing in the dirt on this post.  Please forgive my tardiness. I truly can say it was not procrastination on my part. I have been sick with a sinus infection, and have barely been able to get other things done.  I just now sent in my homework.  

Yesterday, I rested by taking a long nap, and then I found two stinkbugs in my bedroom/office. Oooh, I do not like those things at all. I hit one, thought it was dead, it disappeared, and I looked down and saw it on my wrist. Suffice it to say, I slapped my wrist several times to get it off. 

Today, I watched some old episodes of "Blue Bloods."  Man, I may be telling my age, but I still think Tom Selleck is hot!  Then I took another long nap, took my medicine, and started to work on  homework.  Yeah, sounds pretty boring doesn't it?  Oh well, I can always hope to dream of more exciting things than Criminology and History.  

In the meantime, everyone have a great next few days, and I will be making sure I get my Thursday Pick Me Up completed on time this upcoming week.



Sunday, September 28, 2014


It’s that time again for my Saturday and Sunday recap.  I have been swamped this weekend, and I am so far behind, so I will keep this a bit short this week.  I do want to say how much I appreciate all the new fans, and how much it means to me to hear from you. 

Now, let’s talk about “Outlander.”  Wasn’t it so awesome!  I was amazed, startled, and fell in love with Jamie even more when he came to rescue Claire. I did feel sorry for her husband in the 1945, but there is just something so appealing about Jamie. He’s hot, strong, fearless, and so handsome in both looks and ways. 

And how many of you are bummed by the fact we have to wait until April to see more?  Oh well, anticipation is good, right? 

Take care all, and have a blessed upcoming week.

Thursday, September 25, 2014


Tiernan, King of the Seelie Court, is tossed back in time without his magick where he meets Mista, a Viking Jarl, who is a seductive but brave adversary.  Mista believes the handsome warrior who was present during a battle with one of her clan’s enemies is a bit not there when he claims he is a king and from a land far away. 

“Thor’s hammer!” Mista cursed as she tripped over a pair of soft leather slippers. She was running late to oversee their captive’s transformation into a thrall. The dragonflies in her belly were fighting so fiercely she hoped she would not lose the scant food she’d consumed.
Why was she so nervous? The man was nothing to her. Just an enemy she needed to deal with. But what if he was innocent? Mista shook her head and sent a wave of hair into her eyes. She’d meant to pin it up but she’d slept past her normal rising. Gunhilde’s upset about the prisoner seemed to have returned. The woman had barely spoken a word when she arrived moments after Mista awakened and dropped a tray of food on the table.
To be fair, Mista understand her angst, but she had to do what was right. Until more evidence could be gathered, she would not put the man to death or even sell him on the block as many of her warriors and household wanted. Having him serve as a thrall until judgment would allow her to witness his behavior. Perhaps that would give her a key to the man himself.
She pulled on a pair of short boots over her leggings just as a bell rang somewhere in the bowels of the castle. Mista caught up her dagger and ran for the door. The thralls would be going about their chores and the warriors would be starting their morning fighting practice.
If she were lucky, Baldr would join the men and leave her to deal with the stranger. Or she could hope.
She took the stairs at a run and then grasped the side of the wall as she slipped a bit in her haste. Her breath escaped in small gasps. Mista shook her head—better to slow down than risk a broken limb. Even though she was anxious to see the warrior called Tiernan.
She arrived in the great hall just as he was escorted into the room by one of the younger warriors, Olav. Baldr was also there, and he looked none too pleased.
Displeasure also shone from the fjord blue of the prisoner’s eyes, and whereas normally she could care less what a prisoner thought, especially one of Erik’s men, this man touched Mista on a level she wasn’t ready to explore now, or maybe not ever. It would not benefit her to think about the handsome warrior. Even if he wasn’t an enemy of her people, he did not belong with her kind.
“We are ready to shear this lout of a sheep.” Baldr’s comment was gleeful in nature, and his eyes held a malice she’d prefer not to see.
“Thank you, Baldr. You and Olav may go to the practice field.” She knew her words would not find favor.
Her second-in-command’s lips twisted into a scowl, and she braced for the coming verbal assault.
“’Twould not be a good idea for you to be alone with the prisoner.” Baldr’s soft tone belied the look in his brown gaze that bespoke of agitation, frustration, and a bit of anger.
“I understand your concern, but tie his hands and then place him in the chair.” Mista smiled at the grizzled Viking. “He will be no trouble.”
“Mista…” Baldr’s words trailed off as she raised an eyebrow at his usage of her given name among those not of their clan. He knew better than to address her as such when it came to chieftain matters.
“My chieftain, I plead with you to allow Olav or myself to stay.” Baldr’s conciliatory words held a bite.
She could reply in kind, but she truly did love Baldr, and she understood his worry, yet…
“I know ’tis not how we normally would handle this, but Baldr, I would not ask you to leave if I felt I was in any danger. And to offset your worry…” Mista held out her hand. “I have my dagger. Trust me to use it if I need to, please.” She hoped her words would placate a man who had acted as advisor to her da and to her since she’d become chieftain.
Baldr scowled. “Truth, ’tis not to my liking, but I will abide by your wishes.”
“Thank you, my friend.” Mista smiled slightly and then gestured to the dais. “Olav, please seat the man and then secure him.”
Olav did as she asked dragging Tiernan up the two steps, and pushing him down into a chair. He then took a piece of braided hemp and secured the prisoner’s hands behind his back.
At a nod from Baldr, Olav left. Baldr stood his ground. “Chieftain, are you sure you would not have me stay?”
She caught his hand and patted it. “I will be fine. I was trained by two of the best Vikings that have ever been born.”
Mista did not have to say who those men were; she and Baldr both knew it was him and her da.
“All right, but if this dog gives you any trouble, do not hesitate to gut him.” Baldr slanted a look at Tiernan before following Olav from the hall.
Mista watched Tiernan as he watched Baldr leave. She expected the man was relieved to have her bloodthirsty mentor gone. When he finally looked up at her, she was amazed.
The man’s blue eyes glinted with laughter. How was that possible? He should be frightened to death.
“I would not be amused if I were in your position.”
Tiernan bit back the chuckle he wanted to release. The woman in front of him, chieftain status or not, was the size of a gnat compared to him. Even sitting down he was eye-level with her heavenly blue gaze.
And she was just as sensually alluring now, as she was last night and in his dreams. He’d love to take her to bed, to suckle the breasts she kept hidden under the loose tunic she wore, and to pull her astride his lap. The leggings encasing her lower frame would not be an impediment to feeling her lush bottom.
The thought of taking the miniature chieftain sent a pulse-wave of heat straight to his shaft. So strong was the current of lust, Tiernan prayed she would not notice.
It would just take one outraged scream to bring down the entire Einarsson clan. Something he did not relish happening.
“My apologies, Chieftain Einarsson. It was just a passing fancy.” He hoped she would let it go.
“Do you not realize you are a prisoner?” Her sunset hair spun in a kaleidoscope of colors as she walked up and down the narrow strip between the table and the wall.
“I assure you, that is something I am not likely to forget.” Tiernan flexed his wrists, but the rope didn’t give even the width of a petite faery wing.
“Well, there is no reason to put off what needs to be done.” Mista, as Baldr called her, opened a leather box, removed a metal circlet, and stepped forward.
Tiernan watched cautiously. What did the woman plan to do with the metal jewelry?
“’Twill only take a moment so hold still.” She walked behind him, and he felt the cold brace of the necklace against his throat.
There was something he needed to remember about the band she’d placed against his skin, but what?
He heard an ominous click.
“What is this for?”
The woman moved to face him. “Where are you from, and why do you not know about the thrall collar?”
Tiernan’s mind raged against the implications. He knew they were going to make him a slave, but he’d planned to leave long before being branded.
“Remove the collar. I will not wear it.” His tone rose as the indignity and truth of his plight registered.
“You have no choice.” She didn’t glare at him, but her gaze was relentless in its seriousness.
“Free me. I will show you what choices I have.” Tiernan’s heart beat so hard he could feel the pulse inside his head. His fingers trembled at the thought of spending the next year as a slave, subject to any and all that the woman in front of him might command.
“The collar remains and will continue to stay for the length of your servitude.”
“Length?” Tiernan spit out the question.
“Yes, once we meet for the Thing, it will be decided how long you will serve the Einarsson clan.”
“This is a travesty of justice. Just because I was near a battle with your enemy, you capture me and deny my freedom.” He again twisted his wrists, trying to get the unforgiving rope to loosen.
“If you are innocent of any crime then you will be freed.” The Einarsson chieftain picked up the dagger and moved to stand between Tiernan’s thighs.
“What are you planning now?” His growl was received with silence for a moment, but then the woman took a deep breath.
“A thrall must have his hair shorn to a certain length.”
The rage that had been consuming Tiernan dissipated like sun-dried dew. The new emotion touching him was simply one of horror. Never since he’d grown into manhood had he allowed his hair to be shorter than past his shoulders. His hair was a symbol of his age and stature as a fae. Fae men who were turned out from the court even kept their hair.
He wasn’t a vain man, but losing his locks as a symbol of slavery would nigh on kill him.
The fae at court would mock him, taunt him, and unmercifully brand him with their barbs.
“No, please, do not cut my hair.”
Mista stood frozen in place, holding a strand of his moonbeam hair. Not only because of the man’s muscular thighs pressed against her legs, but the almost plea in his tone touched her.
“’Tis the law to do so.” Her words were a whisper of air.
“Not where I come from. To cut my hair is to unman me as a warrior.” His words were guttural, but she felt the desperation in them.
“If I allow you to wear your hair long, then others will fight to keep theirs. What reason can you give me to placate my men?” She held her breath waiting for his answer.
“I am not what I seem to you. I come from a place so far away you would have to travel through what you call Midegarde to find it.”
Mista wasn’t prone to believe in Norse gods, although a good many of her people did so, yet she didn’t correct the warrior. His eyes glowed with blue fire when he continued.
“A place where magick is commonplace, where there are no wars or...not usually.” He chuckled just a bit, the sound warming Mista’s heart.
“And just how did you get from there to here?” She knew she sounded scornful, but the blue-eyed charmer told a whopping tale.
“I traveled through time.”
His words dropped into the pregnant silence, and Mista dropped the dagger—narrowly missing the man’s groin and her foot before it clattered to the rush-covered floor.
“Dammit, woman, are you planning to neuter me as well as as take my hair?”
“Nay, but your words are fantasy. There is no such thing as time travel.” Mista flung her statement at him as she released his hair and bent to pick up the dagger. She retrieved the weapon and straightened up, only to lose her balance. Her hands connected with the warrior’s thighs, and her gaze was drawn to his manroot. She quickly removed her hands and reached once more for his hair.
“Please, I know it’s hard to grasp, but what if I could prove it?”
She knew it was foolishness to believe the man, but she’d learned to judge men over the years, and his intent gaze showed no dishonesty.
“Perhaps, I would be willing to listen, but for right now I need to—”
“Then allow me to keep my hair until such a time we can talk about how I got here.”
Mista was torn between duty and her instincts, and although in the past they had both been the same, this time she needed to make a choice. Besides, what harm would it do for him to keep his hair? The thought of cutting such a beautiful mane made her feel a bit sick.
“All right, but you must braid and keep it tucked inside your tunic.”
The moment the words were out of Mista’s mouth, Baldr walked into the hall.
“Is there a problem, mistress? You have not cut his hair.” Her second-in-command smirked. “I will be glad to do the job for you.”
“No, thank you, Baldr.” She gave Tiernan a look that stopped the words she knew waited to spill forth.
“Our prisoner will be keeping his hair, for now.” She held up her hand when Baldr looked to argue.
“See that it is braided and tucked under his tunic, and he needs something to wear to complete his chores.” She turned back to Tiernan. “We will speak later on what you have told me. In the meantime, you will be put to work in the stables.”
Mista stepped off the dais. “Yes, Baldr, I know ’tis not usually done, but ’tis a man thing for his clan.” She gave him a hard stare. “Surely you understand the honor involved when it comes to all things male?”
As Baldr stood there with his mouth opening and closing like a Lute fish, Mista made her escape.