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Jumat, 13 Mei 2011

Guest Author Day with Gwen Campbell

Good Afternoon everyone and welcome one of my favorite authors, Gwen Campbell, to Dawn's Reading Nook. She has TWO sexy tales that were just released and frankly, I am always eager for more from this author. Now without further adieu.....


Can you tell me a bit about your most recent release?

Hi, Dawn! Thanks for having me as a guest today. Breakdown Of A Pack is the second book in my Wyoming Wild series and the sequel to When A Pack Dies. Sergeant Owen Wells has just retired from the Army, is repressing his grief over his mother’s murder, oh and he’s a werewolf with a massive case of large-and-in-charge. Your quintessential lone wolf, he avoids packs instead of joining them. Still, he needs to find a niche for himself in the civilian world…a job, a place to live, a frisky no-strings attached female or two to run with.
He thinks he might have found those things in Wyoming. (Always the last place you look, right?) There’s a babe of a female deputy sheriff who looks incredibly hot with her service revolver strapped to her hip. There’s a werewolf pack willing to welcome him, only somebody’s just murdered their Alpha and Beta weres. There’s also a male deputy sheriff Owen is interested in—the “don’t ask, don’t tell” kind.

For any readers who may not have read any of your books, can you just give us a little sneak peak into your world (i.e. the type of genre you write, type of stories you like to write....etc)?

The book has to have a happily ever after ending, and it’s going to be a romance. Beyond that, I’m all over the place. I’ve done contemporary, futuristic, paranormal, time travel because no matter what weird storyline my brain comes up with, I love to explore it alongside a romantic thread.

How much of yourself, if any, do you put into your characters?

Well my imagination’s in there for sure. I like to think my principal characters are, well, people of good character. They give trust where it’s deserved, have flaws, quirks and scars but work to rise above them.

How do you keep sex scenes fresh and exciting so they don't become stale or repetitive?

Research. Seriously. I sit up late on Friday nights and watch the Showcase channel with its steady after ten p.m. stream of erotica and quasi-informational sex shows. Rough life, huh? I also keep track of which positions my characters have used in a book, the settings, the pairings, and don’t repeat.

Is there one series/author you feel is a must read for readers to explore (can be e book authors or print NY house authors)?

Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. I’m a massive Barbara Sheridan fan. Jan Springer too. Recently, I’ve gotten into JR Ward. Now there’s a writer who knows how to build a world and keep spinning good stories around it.

Do you listen to music when writing? Do you feel like some stories write themselves a soundtrack with specific music? If so, what book and what kind of music influenced it?

No. But some of my friends who are writers swear by it. Kind of like some friends back in school had to have the radio on while they did their homework. Me? I just get distracted.

Do you feel your writing is character driven or plot driven? How do you balance these two elements?

A bit of both. Usually I start off with a scene or plot element then tailor characters who’ll experience a lot of conflict when I throw them in. Some stories just lend themselves to being character or plot driven, much like some stories just lend themselves to being told in first-person voice, from multiple points of view, present or past.

Is there a genre you haven’t done that you would like to explore in the future?

Oh yeah. Horror. Don’t know if I’ll be absolute rubbish at it but I do love the spooky stuff.

What is your favorite movie of all time? The one where you can watch it and still get affected at the same spots each and every time?

The Changeling with George C. Scott. I actually bought two copies of the DVD…you know, in case one broke.

If you were stranded on a deserted island, what 5 things would you have with you?

My husband, of course, and the dog. My laptop with a satellite dish and solar panel. (Is that one or three choices?) Chocolate, natch. And a top-notch construction crew who could get started on my dream tropical hideaway. Hey—my attachment to indoor plumbing is deep and abiding.

What is the one era you would love to go visit and why?

Late Victorian. Manners are important to me. But late enough in the era that indoor plumbing is common. (See comment above.)

Out of all your books, do you have a favorite one? If not, then which one is closest to your heart?

Ouch. That’s kind of like asking which kid I like best. I suppose Fina from When A Pack Dies holds a special place in my heart. She survived a massacre, took it upon herself to rescue a child when she escaped, made hard, logical decisions that ensured that child’s welfare and future prospects, even though they conflicted with her needs as she struggled through her mourning. In other words, she put the welfare of a child before her own. Fortunately, she eventually found love and stability too.

What character out of all your books is the closest to your personality?

While my heroes and heroines have characteristics I value, they’re not much like me. I’m really boring.

What do you feel is the most important aspect a new author should remember when writing/creating their own stories? Any advice for aspiring authors?

Just write. Seriously. Plunk your backseat in the chair and pound something out. It’ll be way better than that sentence floating around your head that never gets out. After that, work really hard at squeezing out a good story idea. Stuff like syntax, grammar, spelling and punctuation are just details and if you suck at that, hire an editor who doesn’t. Join a local writers’ group. I recommend Romance Writers of America, for starters. Oh and after your butt’s in the chair and you’ve pounded out that first sentence, there’s no aspiring anymore. You ARE a writer.

What can we expect to come in the future from you? Want to give us a tease of your upcoming projects?

I’m working on a BDSM ménage. Ah the naughty stuff I read in the name of research. I’m also finishing up a paranormal where the heroine’s falling in love with a hot, contemporary guy…and the ghost of his great-grandfather. It gets a little confusing in and out of bed but she has a heck of a good time.

Where can we find you on the net?

www.GwenCampbell.net. I love to chat with my readers!


Sneak Peek into Breakdown of a Pack
Now available at Shadowfire Press
Book 2 in the Wild Wyoming Series
Buy HERE

 
Sergeant Owen Wells is finally stateside from Iraq. He goes home to a place he’s never seen and tries to fit into a werewolf pack that doesn’t take kindly to interloping males. But Owen’s got some skills they need and he’s sent on a covert mission to find out why a neighboring sheriff was murdered, and why the hierarchy in that pack is crumbling. Problem is, he can’t keep his paws off a certain dispatcher. She’s got a body that would make Barbie jealous and a mouth that makes him want to dive into sin. Unfortunately, the pack’s reluctant leader’s got it bad for her too. Now they just have to figure out who the bad guys are, why they’re gunning for Owen all of a sudden, and why three werewolves in bed feels just right.


When Owen awoke, his human eyes registered the growing, pale differentiation between land and sky. The air had a particular stillness and feeling of cold. It told him sunrise was less then twenty minutes away. He smiled. A woman, soft, rounded and pale was spooned into his body. His hips cradled her ass and his morning wood nosed at her warmth with singular pleasure.
An untidy mass of soft, blonde, female hair protected his face from the pine needles beneath them. Owen inhaled deeply, letting his chest swell into her smooth, delicately muscled back. He smelled his seed on her, and the other wolf’s. Lifting his eyes, he saw the sleeping profile of Deputy Sheriff Tom Ray beyond her. Tom was sleeping on his back, his mouth open, just a little. He snored softly. The female was curled up into Tom, her arm draped over his chest so that her body was sheltered and warmed on both sides.
Slowly so he didn’t startle her into wakefulness, Owen slid his hand over her breast. Firm mounds, soft skin and definitely more than a handful. Were they real? He squeezed gently. Oh yeah. Definitely real.
Releasing her reluctantly, Owen reached across the woman and nudged Tom’s shoulder. The other were woke with a muffled snort. He looked up at the sky as if gauging the hour like Owen had then smacked his lips. His nose bunched like he was scenting the air before he turned his head to look up at Owen.
Tom blinked then the corners of his mouth quirked up. “First time I share a woman and it turns out to be with some tenderfoot from back East.”
They chuckled and it carried the sound of irony, swaggering male satisfaction and a hint of adolescent titillation.
The female stirred, passed a small, pale hand over the dark hair peppering Tom’s chest, and squirmed her ass back into Owen’s erection. “Now that’s a fine good morning,” she whispered.
Owen froze as soon as he heard her voice.
“Shit,” he deadpanned. “Not you.”
“Wh…?” With a jerk, she rolled toward him.
In the thin pre-dawn light, Deputy Sheriff Suzanne Young stared up at him, then snarled. She jerked again, this time trying to get away from him. The movement shoved her hip into his testicles.
“Easy, Blondie.” Owen grabbed her hip, stilling her. “You were pretty enamored of them last night so don’t go disappointing yourself by crushing them now.” Despite the anger in her eyes and his previous, less than stellar encounters with her, he liked the feel of her skin. Her breast swayed, drawing his eye to a peak so pink and luscious he stared and drew his tongue over his lower lip.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Suzanne demanded. “Who told you you were welcome?”
Owen could always tell when a party was over. Stretching out the tightness in his muscles, he climbed out from beneath the spruce and stood. She crawled out right after him. The light caught the paleness of her eyes. Disheveled and with a few pine needles sticking to her arm, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Too bad he couldn’t stand the sight of her.




Jumat, 06 Agustus 2010

Confessions of a Suburban Felon by Gwen Campbell


 Confessions of a Suburban Felon

I am a criminal. I admit this without apology. Despite society’s pressures to be good, I wallow in the pursuit of lawlessness with delicious glee.
I walk my dog off leash in public parks. There. I’ve said it. It’s out in the open now, dear reader, and I confess my sin with pride.
Let me take you back to the beginning…
Three years ago, we adopted a dog from a rescue organization. He’s of indeterminate age and breed. The best description we’ve come up with is BBD—Big Black Dog. (PG rated photos of said BBD can be found at www.GwenCampbell.net  He won’t pose for racy ones so don’t bother asking.)
Three years ago I was a good person. Responsible. Law abiding. I only drove five or so kilometers over the speed limit in town. I separated paper from glass. I didn’t wear white after Labour Day. That was all before the BBD came into our lives.
We’ve got a nifty wooded area a block from our house. On the other side of that, there’s a massive green space that backs onto two primary schools and two soccer pitches. Perfect for dog walking and the people in my neighbourhood walk their dogs. A lot.
Not everyone in my neighbourhood loves dogs, however.
Up until four months ago, there was a joyous peace between dog owners and the unwashed…I mean those without dogs. We picked up our dog’s poop. Their kind stuck to the playground, the paved path or cut across the soccer pitch to simply get from point A to B. We kept our dogs out of their way.
That system broke down when soccer season started and HE started coming around. The man. The heat. The white van patrol.
The by-law enforcement officer.
Apparently, somebody started phoning the by-law office, asking that the laws about unleashed pets be enforced.
That’s when WE took our criminal activities underground.
Oh we still break the law and love doing it. There’s more of us than you’d imagine. Many, many more. These days, you’ll find us hanging out in the woods, huddled in furtive groups of eight to ten with our dogs running free around us. We still chat about the same things but our eyes now move constantly. We’re always aware of where the exits are, how close we are to the paths that will let us make a speedy escape if HE shows up.
It’s with no small irony that, during those covert escapades, I think back on my misspent youth. How I’d slip out of the house before dusk, hang out with my friends in a woods or a field not so different from the one I do now. Somebody might have pilfered a beer from the fridge at home and we’d smoke cigarettes we were too young to buy legally.
Despite society’s pressures, like I said, I’m obviously a lifelong devotee of crime. Only now we sneak around so our dogs can run free. Unlike back when, however, I pick up my dog’s poop whereas I never picked up my cigarette butts.
Perhaps there’s hope for me yet. Gawd I hope not.

As My Warrior Commands now available

Jumat, 19 Maret 2010

Meet "New to Me" Author Kiki Howell


Excerpt From A Questionable Hero Available Now at http://www.shadowfirepress.com
A divine proclivity to perceive imminent danger made Shaebiel turn in time to glimpse the glinting silver of a demon’s sword inches from slashing into her flesh. As her body tensed for the pain, a sharp metallic clash rang in her ears followed by the shrill grate of metal against metal. Two long daggers crossed beside her, and moments later a human form was reduced to smoky ash on the blacktop. To her utter confusion and dismay, when she followed the length of the sword that had saved her, it was held by a demon—a devilish being with magnetic silver eyes.
These eyes, lighter than the inky black of most of his kind, bore into hers, searched hers. As an angel warrior gifted with empathic abilities she could feel lust burning over the rush of his more erratic feelings of fear, confusion and shame. It could have been a minute or an hour they stood there, because time seemed to stand still wrapped in the embrace of this man’s stare. Her angel’s sword of light remained down at her side instead of being jabbed into the cavity of his chest to kill him. At the same time, he slowly returned his weapon to his side rather than coming for her. They were opposing sides of the war in a shocked stalemate, entranced by each other, out of sync with the natural order of events.
Before she could figure out a plan of action, a sword of light wielded by another Angel warrior seared through the demon’s hip. His cry cut through the background noise of the fighting, causing her rapid breathing to pause. He grabbed at the burning flesh and his sooty hair fell over his face. Another angel, seeing the demon who had saved her as an obvious threat given his proximity, had come to her rescue as well.  She stood there frozen as if she had never been trained for such a battle.
The attacking angel warrior to her right was still in a duel with his own demon. His one light sword had stopped a metal dagger in mid-air. Metal forged with evil intent could not cut through the light produced by heavenly beings. At the same time, his other sword stabbed a second time at the demon before her. It seared his thigh. His cry was cut off to a mere rush of air as if he had been punched in the stomach. Then, her questionable hero fell between two trash cans adorning the asphalt land. She had to hand it to the other angel for trying to fight two demons at once. The angel warrior’s aim may have been off, but his mission had been successful. He had unknowingly saved her from her savior. The warring emotions of this evil incarnation now at her feet struck her with the impact of a bludgeon.