Thursday, 14 August 2014

Welcome multi-published author, Brynna Curry...


1.        What do you wish men understood about women?
That we are a force to be reckoned with, capable and strong.

2.        Do you only work on one book at a time?
No I work on several projects at once. At times I just can’t focus on a particular project and it helps to switch to something else for awhile.

3.        Who is your favorite fictional couple?
   J.D. Robb’s Roarke and Eve.

4.        Favorite TV show?
NCIS – Although I’ve been disappointed in the episodes post Ziva. Another I actually take time to watch is Defiance.

5.        Do you set daily writing goals? Word count? Number of chapters? Do you get a chance to write every day?
No writing goals. The more I try to structure my writing time, the less I actually get done. My muse likes to be free of schedules.

6.        Who was the last person you hugged?
  My daughter Kayla. Unless you count Asheron, my cat, as a person. He surely thinks he’s human.

7.        What are you working on now?  
I have a few projects going right now, but I'm focusing my attention on TEMPTING TAYLOR (Triple Star Ranch #2) which picks up the threads left intentionally in CLAIMING ANA and when I need a break from the suspense, CHARM OF LIGHT (Shadows of Seven #1) allows me to walk on the paranormal side with vampire Kail McKenna.




Blurb: Writer Liv Corrigan has the worst luck with men -- her telepathy tends to make them run for the hills. When she meets widower and ex-cop Jack Roarke, she decides to keep her talent hidden. Things are looking up until their third date crashes and burns as the man who murdered Jack’s wife turns out to be after him too.

Injured, Jack retreats with Liv to his house under armed guard. But with Liv’s mysteries rapidly coming unraveled, a diamond-thief killer to stop and passion in the air, the safe house is anything but safe for their hearts!



Excerpt – First meet between Hero and Heroine

Jack scanned the bookstore as he sat in the hard metal folding chair, at the small table, and wrote. He thought his hand would fall off. Whoever said writing wasn’t real work had to have been crazy. He knew things about two hours’ worth of people their mothers probably didn’t know. Mandy Lou something or other had a granny who thought he was grade A and she was his number one fan. She didn’t look old enough to be allowed to read his brand of horror, but she had two copies of each of his books.

Jack had politely—he hoped—shrugged off the forty invitations to dinner, fourteen offers for coffee, and two very indecent proposals for ‘wild, hanging from the chandelier sex’ to quote one lovely fan. All in all, a long day barely described it, but he’d seen people and observed, that was for sure. If it helped with the new book, it might have been worth it, and then again maybe not.

Ellie dropped by to see how things were going, and then promptly ran away when he tried to beg out. He didn’t like being maneuvered, and Ellie was a champion at it. Entertaining the notion of strangling her got him through the second hour, but considering he needed a good editor, he changed his mind.

The line grew shorter. While he juggled the newest Hastings baby on his knee, which the boy’s proud papa had insisted on, Jack inscribed a message in the front cover to Mrs. Hastings, another number one fan and the mother of six children all under ten. How does she have the time to read at all? His message to her read, “Mrs. Hastings, I’m your number one fan. You rule. Jack.” Mentally saluting her efforts, he passed back junior, and sent them on their way. He automatically reached for the book a slim hand offered. Eyes down on the cover of what he’d created, he said the same thing he’d told countless others. “Hi, who should I make this out to?”

“Just sign it to Olivia Corrigan, fellow mystery writer.”

Her voice alone lifted his eyes to meet hers, a musical lilt that teased of mist and bogs, faeries and leprechauns. She was dressed professionally, but he could easily imagine her calling up a wild wind or casting spells. She was only about 5’4” and slim, claimed black Irish coloring. He saw a flash of what might have been a premonition, but after blocking the gift so long he couldn’t hold on to it. Did he smell rain? Candles or lightning? But the sun was shining. For a moment he just stared, couldn’t speak , and was certain he knew her but couldn’t remember where from.

“Is something the matter?”

He quickly signed her book, before he forgot that was the reason for their meeting in the first place. She was the last in line, and he was free. Thank God! Sorry, muse, position filled.

“Jack Roarke, it’s a pleasure, Miss Corrigan.”

Series Buy Links

About the Author:  Brynna Curry was born south of the Mason-Dixon Line. After living all over the southern states, she finally landed in North Alabama where she lives with her husband and their three children. Growing up, books fueled her dreams and imagination, ultimately becoming her salvation during the hardest times in her life.Writing is her passion, but she enjoys the fun of sharing those stories with others by reviewing books and working in publicity.
When she isn’t writing or promoting, she’s often found haunting the library for new books to read or just spending an quiet evening at home with Jackie watching old westerns on TV. Although her wizards, shifters and vampires are as real to her as anyone, she insists love is the truest magic and with it every day is another wonderful adventure.
Brynna’s Links:

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