Welcome, readers, to Day 4 of 30 Days of Promo Goodness! Vonnie Davis is back to give us a closer look into her latest romance release, Storm's Interlude, available now at The Wild Rose Press, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble....Nurse Rachel Dennison comes to Texas determined to prepare her new patient for a second round of chemo. What she isn’t counting on is her patient’s twin brother, Storm Masterson. Despite her initial attraction, Storm has two things Rachel can’t abide: a domineering personality and a fiancée.
Half Native American, with the ability to have "vision dreams," Storm dreams about Rachel for three nights before her arrival. Both are unprepared for the firestorm of emotions their first chance encounter ignites. Ultimately, it is Rachel’s past—an abusive, maniacal ex-boyfriend—that threatens to keep them apart…and Storm’s dreams that bring them together again....
I was in a bit of a snit when I started Storm’s Interlude. Rejection stings, and I was stinging at the time. I wanted to write about a different hero than the alpha male. Someone more gentle, more caring, more approachable. Who knows why; perhaps I was suffering from INOC (in need of chocolate) at the time.
No one liked him.
Heck, by the time I got done writing the book, I barely liked him.
So my muse and I had a bit of a tiff. I was grumbling that I didn’t want to write the typical alpha male story. “Well, if you think you can’t,” she hissed in my ear. I shot her a dirty look. I professed I didn’t know how to write sex scenes. Just the thought of it made me blush. Oh, I’m no prude; I enjoy reading them…and have been known to stand in a bookstore, leafing through the pages until I came to the sex scene just to see if it was scorching enough. But write on? Me? “Too bad you’re not passionate enough to write sex,” she said as she buffed her nails on my t-shirt.
Don’t you hate a challenge? They just set my blood pressure to boiling. So I sat down, opened my laptop and powered it up, glaring at the bossy wench as I did so. Then I wrote the most bizarre opening scene I could think of as steam puffed out my ears.
Opening Scene from Storm's Interlude:
Someone swaggered out of the moonlit night toward Rachel. Exhausted from a long day of driving, she braked and blinked. Either she was hallucinating or her sugar levels had plummeted. Maybe that accounted for the male mirage, albeit a very magnificent male mirage, trekking toward her. She peered once more into the hot July night at the image illuminated by her headlights. Sure enough, there he was, cresting the hill on foot—a naked man wearing nothing but a black cowboy hat, a pair of boots and a go-to-hell sneer.
Well, well, things really did grow bigger in Texas. The man quickly covered his privates with his black Stetson. Rachel sighed. The show was evidently over. Should she stand up in her Beetle convertible and applaud? Give a couple of catcalls? Wolf whistles? Maybe not.
She turned down the music on the car’s CD player. Sounds of crickets and a lonely bullfrog in the distance created a nighttime symphony in the stillness of this isolated stretch of country road.
Lightning bugs darted back and forth, blinking a display of neon-yellow glow.
The naked man strode toward her car, and Rachel’s heart rate kicked up. Common sense told her to step on the gas, yet what woman wanted to drive away from such a riveting sight? Still, life had taught her to be careful. She reached into her handbag and extracted her chrome revolver. Before he reached her car, she quickly slid her gun under the folds of her skirt.
Just let him try anything funny—I know how to take care of myself.
Both of his large hands clasped his hat to his groin. His face bore annoyance and a touch of chagrin. “I need a ride.” By his bearing and commanding tone of voice, she guessed the man was used to giving orders and having them followed.
Her gaze took a slow journey across his face. Even in the moonlight, she could see traces of Native heritage. His shoulder-length ebony hair, too long for her tastes, glistened against his bronzed skin. Proud arrogant eyes sparked with anger. Because Rachel believed in indulging herself, she allowed her gaze to travel over his broad shoulders, muscular chest and tight abdominal muscles. She saw a thin trail of dark hair starting below his navel, and, knowing full well where it ended, she fought back a groan. Her eyes slid back up to lock on his. “You need a pair of pants, too.” Knowing her voice hummed with desire, she cleared her throat, hoping the naked man hadn’t noticed.
He looked up at the sky for a beat. “Just my freakin’ luck! A birthday party gone bad, and now I’m bein’ ogled by some horny kid with damnable blue eyes.”
What the heck was wrong with her eyes? She quickly glanced in her rearview mirror and saw nothing amiss. She narrowed those “damnable blue eyes” and sneered. “Look, buster, I’m not the one prancing around Texas naked as a jaybird. I’ll have you know I’m hardly a kid.” She glanced down at the black cowboy hat. “And, furthermore, stop hiding behind that big ol’ Stetson. From what I saw, a French beret would do the job.”
There, let the arrogant fool stew on that while he strutted back to whatever rock he’d crawled out from. She slammed her car in gear and sped off. She swore she wouldn’t look in her rearview mirror. Nope, she would not look. As if the mirror were a magnet emitting a powerful homing signal, her gaze slowly slid to the glass surface. He was standing where she’d left him…What do you think? Did she go back?
I’m honored to say Storm’s Interlude recently got a 5-Star review from Single Titles Reviews. “Loved every morsel of this story. Each chapter brought a smile to my face, the chemistry between Storm and Rachel is a barn burner. A compassionate story that takes a difficult subject and brings hope to a family struggling to figure out what will happen next. When they begin to live day to day, the love of each person in this story brings a warmness to every page. A wonderful book.”
I was in a bit of a snit when I started Storm’s Interlude. Rejection stings, and I was stinging at the time. I wanted to write about a different hero than the alpha male. Someone more gentle, more caring, more approachable. Who knows why; perhaps I was suffering from INOC (in need of chocolate) at the time.
No one liked him.
Heck, by the time I got done writing the book, I barely liked him.
So my muse and I had a bit of a tiff. I was grumbling that I didn’t want to write the typical alpha male story. “Well, if you think you can’t,” she hissed in my ear. I shot her a dirty look. I professed I didn’t know how to write sex scenes. Just the thought of it made me blush. Oh, I’m no prude; I enjoy reading them…and have been known to stand in a bookstore, leafing through the pages until I came to the sex scene just to see if it was scorching enough. But write on? Me? “Too bad you’re not passionate enough to write sex,” she said as she buffed her nails on my t-shirt.
Don’t you hate a challenge? They just set my blood pressure to boiling. So I sat down, opened my laptop and powered it up, glaring at the bossy wench as I did so. Then I wrote the most bizarre opening scene I could think of as steam puffed out my ears.
Opening Scene from Storm's Interlude:
Someone swaggered out of the moonlit night toward Rachel. Exhausted from a long day of driving, she braked and blinked. Either she was hallucinating or her sugar levels had plummeted. Maybe that accounted for the male mirage, albeit a very magnificent male mirage, trekking toward her. She peered once more into the hot July night at the image illuminated by her headlights. Sure enough, there he was, cresting the hill on foot—a naked man wearing nothing but a black cowboy hat, a pair of boots and a go-to-hell sneer.
Well, well, things really did grow bigger in Texas. The man quickly covered his privates with his black Stetson. Rachel sighed. The show was evidently over. Should she stand up in her Beetle convertible and applaud? Give a couple of catcalls? Wolf whistles? Maybe not.
She turned down the music on the car’s CD player. Sounds of crickets and a lonely bullfrog in the distance created a nighttime symphony in the stillness of this isolated stretch of country road.
Lightning bugs darted back and forth, blinking a display of neon-yellow glow.
The naked man strode toward her car, and Rachel’s heart rate kicked up. Common sense told her to step on the gas, yet what woman wanted to drive away from such a riveting sight? Still, life had taught her to be careful. She reached into her handbag and extracted her chrome revolver. Before he reached her car, she quickly slid her gun under the folds of her skirt.
Just let him try anything funny—I know how to take care of myself.
Both of his large hands clasped his hat to his groin. His face bore annoyance and a touch of chagrin. “I need a ride.” By his bearing and commanding tone of voice, she guessed the man was used to giving orders and having them followed.
Her gaze took a slow journey across his face. Even in the moonlight, she could see traces of Native heritage. His shoulder-length ebony hair, too long for her tastes, glistened against his bronzed skin. Proud arrogant eyes sparked with anger. Because Rachel believed in indulging herself, she allowed her gaze to travel over his broad shoulders, muscular chest and tight abdominal muscles. She saw a thin trail of dark hair starting below his navel, and, knowing full well where it ended, she fought back a groan. Her eyes slid back up to lock on his. “You need a pair of pants, too.” Knowing her voice hummed with desire, she cleared her throat, hoping the naked man hadn’t noticed.
He looked up at the sky for a beat. “Just my freakin’ luck! A birthday party gone bad, and now I’m bein’ ogled by some horny kid with damnable blue eyes.”
What the heck was wrong with her eyes? She quickly glanced in her rearview mirror and saw nothing amiss. She narrowed those “damnable blue eyes” and sneered. “Look, buster, I’m not the one prancing around Texas naked as a jaybird. I’ll have you know I’m hardly a kid.” She glanced down at the black cowboy hat. “And, furthermore, stop hiding behind that big ol’ Stetson. From what I saw, a French beret would do the job.”
There, let the arrogant fool stew on that while he strutted back to whatever rock he’d crawled out from. She slammed her car in gear and sped off. She swore she wouldn’t look in her rearview mirror. Nope, she would not look. As if the mirror were a magnet emitting a powerful homing signal, her gaze slowly slid to the glass surface. He was standing where she’d left him…What do you think? Did she go back?
I’m honored to say Storm’s Interlude recently got a 5-Star review from Single Titles Reviews. “Loved every morsel of this story. Each chapter brought a smile to my face, the chemistry between Storm and Rachel is a barn burner. A compassionate story that takes a difficult subject and brings hope to a family struggling to figure out what will happen next. When they begin to live day to day, the love of each person in this story brings a warmness to every page. A wonderful book.”
6 comments:
Vonnie,
Wow that was a good excerpt Thanks for sharing. I do not know if I could write a sex scene either..You done great...
Walk in harmony,
Melinda
Vonnie, I haven't had the pleasure to start my copy yet, but this post just cracked me up. My puppy ate the power chord on my laptop, what's left of my battery is dying fast. At first I was little upset at the prospect of not being able to write until my new chord gets here. But am thinking maybe my puppy gave me a gift--I have an excuse to go read now and I think I know where I'm staring. ;) LOVE that excerpt!!
Vonnie,
This just keeps moving up my "To be Bought List"...
- Meg
Melinda, thanks for stopping by. Happy Birthday, by the way.
KJoanne, hope your cord soon arrives, but not until you've read my book. See how nasty I am???
Meg, thanks for stopping by. Let me know how you like Storm and Rachel's journey to love.
vonnie(dot)davis at ymail(dot)com
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