I’m delighted to have Maeve with me. She’s a lovely, gracious lady and has made it to an impressive level in the Kensington Brava / RT Book Reviews Writing with the Stars contest. I’ll let Maeve tell us a little about her intriguing entry, her recent release, and herself. Take it away, Maeve~
Not every first meeting is love at first sight…
I admit it. I love a good spat between the hero and heroine. I’ve always heard there’s a fine line between love and hate and I adore romances that push the limit. I know you’ve read them. The hero picks at the heroine until she snaps –or vice versa. They explode into a heated tirade and end up in each other’s arms. I often wonder if this is some sort of throwback to the days when little boys pestered little girls until they ran home in tears? It seems like the MORE the little boy likes the girl…the more he aggravates her. Come to think of it, I married just such a pestering “little boy”. But THAT’s another blog. 😉
Beth was kind enough to invite me to her lovely blog to talk about my paranormal romance, ETERNITY’S MARK. I’m so excited that my story has made it to the final round of the Kensington Brava / RT Book Reviews Writing with the Stars contest. I wanted to share a “never before shared” excerpt. So, I decided Taggart and Hannah’s first meet would be a lovely taste. Hannah’s irritated that she’s been interrupted from a very emotional day to meet some stranger in the town’s small café. This excerpt gives you a bit of a hint at the sparring about to ensue.
I hope you enjoy this glimpse into ETERNITY’S MARK and if you’re so inclined to help me bring home the win, I’ve included the voting link below:
Taggart and Hannah meet:
The bell on the wire hanging above the door jangled. Taggart knew it was her before he raised his eyes; he sensed it by the way the skin tingled at the base of his neck. Her energy tickled a shiver up his spine. The sacred guardian’s aura flooded the room and he was her protector. He would’ve known she entered his presence even if he had been blind.
Taggart hid his grin behind the white ceramic mug he clasped between his hands. The collective jaws of the Guild of Barac’Nairn would’ve hit the floor had they been sitting at Taggart’s side. Hannah MacPherson, the blessed guardian, was not what they would’ve expected. Taggart chuckled into the depths of his cup. As far as he was concerned, the fiery lass beamed the definition of pure delight itself.
The tiny, young woman ordained to be guardian of the sacred Draecna sported a ratty St. Louis Cardinal’s baseball cap pulled low over snapping green eyes. Her auburn ponytail exploded through the tattered hole in the back. The tangled mass of curls tumbled down her back as though a windstorm had tossed her into the cafe. Grass and mud stained the ragged knees of her jeans. Her well-worn tee shirt clung to her curves like tissue wrapped around a tempting gift. Taggart sat down his coffee, stretching back in his chair unable to resist chuckling again. He’d never seen a woman don such boots. Steel-toed work boots laced tight about her tiny ankles. She plodded across the room like a heavy construction worker.
He held his breath to keep from laughing aloud as she stalked her way over to the counter. He could tell by the way the woman stomped, she prepared to unleash the hounds of hell if any dared cross her path. Such a fierce small package, she reminded him of the territorial wood nymphs of Glenoc Mur. She’d barely reach the middle of his chest, yet she stood coiled so tight, the woman stood ready to explode.
The longer Taggart studied her, the more his amusement faded. True, Hannah MacPherson brewed for a fight. Taggart shifted in his seat as the realization hit; he stood centered in her crosshairs. Taggart peered closer. She also suffered; her face revealed a great deal of emotional pain. Her wound simmered deep. Hannah MacPherson might be small but her heart swelled with sorrow.
Taggart sucked in a slow breath, struggling against an uncomfortable stirring deep within his chest. His precious guardian had been deeply hurt; she fluttered as a wounded bird. Taggart watched as Hannah’s head turned with eyes narrowed when Millie whispered and pointed in his direction. He unfolded his frame and stood beside the table as Hannah whirled and barreled his way.
“Mr. de Gaelson? I believe you wanted to see me? I’m Hannah MacPherson.” Hannah stuck out her hand as though daring him to take it and fixed Taggart with a green-eyed glare.
Taggart closed his hand around Hannah’s cold, stiff grasp and held it as he leveled with her gaze. “Please, call me Taggart.”
“What can I do for you, Taggart?” Hannah clipped the words with a jerk of her hand, rubbing her fingers as though his touch disturbed her. She shot Millie a brooding glare, her glance sliding back to Taggart as if blaming Millie for his presence.
Taggart bit back a smile. The woman wasn’t going to make his life easy. He read the wariness in Hannah’s eyes and the way she’d withdrawn from his touch. Good. She should be wary. It would increase her lifespan and make protecting her somewhat easier, albeit getting close to her and winning her trust could prove even more of a challenge. Taggart nodded toward the table while he motioned for Millie. “Would ye like some coffee while we talk?”
“Not really, thanks.” Hannah sent Millie scuttling back around the counter with a single shake of her head. “I don’t mean to sound rude, Mr. de Gaelson−”
“Taggart, Ms. MacPherson. Please. I asked ye to call me, Taggart, remember?” Taggart cleared his throat. God’s teeth, the stubborn woman insisted on doing things her own way. Lucky for her, they were on this side of the threshold. If they were in Erastaed, he wouldha sifted them to someplace quiet and spelled her. He’d seal her lips and open her ears so she’d have no choice but to hear his words. By Isla’s golden beard, she had to see she needed protection. ‘Twas time she faced her destiny.
Maeve Greyson writes paranormal romances from her cozy little home in western Kentucky. Tucked away in the middle of nowhere, her stories spark with magic and love, where anything might happen to get to that happily ever after.
Her writing partner, Jasper –the rat terrier/Chihuahua mix, critiques all her work. Under his sharp eye and the endless support of her husband of over thirty-one years, she snuggles back in their secluded wood and pours her daydreams into the keyboard.
Her debut novel, BEYOND A HIGHLAND WHISPER, just became available from The Wild Rose Press and she recently contracted THE HIGHLANDER’S FURY with them as well.
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/maeve.greyson OR http://www.facebook.com/maeve.greyson#!/maeve.greyson.page
The Wild Rose Press: http://thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=advanced_search_result&search_in_description=1&keyword=maeve+greyson