Stirring Up Trouble by Kimberly Kincaid

Stirring-Up-Trouble-Kimberly-Kincaid

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Blurb 

Sloane Russo’s turned a decade of crazy jobs and whimsical travel into a career writing steamy novels set in exotic places. Trouble is, Sloane’s flat broke now–and she can’t channel sun-drenched beaches in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The only fast cash in town comes with some seriously distracting temptation: Gavin Carmichael, hot, handsome and oh-so-hard-headed.

Gavin isn’t the impulsive Don Juan of Sloane’s novels. He’s raising his thirteen-year-old half-sister, and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to act like he’s never heard of fun. Sloane is way too sexy and irresponsible to be his idea of a good tutor for Bree, but the unpredictable anti-nanny may be irresistible as well. . .

 

Link to Follow Tour:  http://www.tastybooktours.com/2014/08/stirring-up-trouble-pine-mountain-3-by.html

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20257112-stirring-up-trouble?from_search=true

 

Kimberly KincaidAuthor Info

Kimberly Kincaid writes contemporary romance that splits the difference between sexy and sweet. When she’s not sitting cross-legged in an ancient desk chair known as “The Pleather Bomber”, she can be found practicing obscene amounts of yoga, whipping up anything from enchiladas to éclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a 2011 RWA Golden Heart® finalist who lives (and writes!) by the mantra that food is love.

Her digital Line series is all about the hot cops and sexy chefs of Brentsville, New York. She is also the author of the Pine Mountain series, which follows small town singles as they find big-time love. Kimberly resides in Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters. 

Author Links

Website:  http://www.kimberlykincaid.com/
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/kimberly.kincaid1
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/kimberlykincaid
Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6938229.Kimberly_Kincaid?from_search=true

 

Rafflecopter Giveaway (Two sets of the first two Pine Mountain books, Turn Up The Heat and Gimme Some Sugar, US/Canada only)

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Excerpt

A question poked at Gavin’s conscience, getting increasingly louder until he finally gave it a voice. “Look…don’t take this the wrong way, but this is over three weeks’ worth of work. I’ve got to ask, how much help did you give Bree, exactly?”

Sloane made a less-than-dainty sound and rolled her eyes. “I already passed eighth-grade English, and I’m not exactly eager to do any of the writing on my own again. Bree busted her butt, I assure you.” She started to wad up the discarded pages at her feet, muttering a low oath as the ball got big enough to exceed her hand.

Okay, so that had come out more accusatory than he’d intended. He knelt to help her collect the crumpled pages. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you did it for her.”

“Sure you did. But like I said, you don’t have to worry. I helped her, but only as much as she’d let me. Once we got started, she really did most of it without even talking to me.”

Now there was something he could relate to. “Yeah, that sounds like her.” The ache in his bones migrated to include everything beneath his sternum, and Gavin let out a tired exhale. He reached for the last scrap of paper at the exact moment Sloane did. Unable to change his course of movement without making contact, his fingertips brushed against the top of her hand as she closed a fist over the page, and the sheer heat of her skin under his hand registered in a jolt.

“Whoops, sorry.” He withdrew his hand and looked up, only to discover his face about six inches from a pair of heart-shaped lips, parted in a look of surprise. “I didn’t mean to…” A quick gesture to her hand completed the sentence. Her skin was so soft, like a stretch of perfectly golden caramel, warm and sweet and utterly decadent.

For a hot, impulsive moment, he wondered if she tasted the way she looked.

“No biggie,” she murmured, not moving her eyes from his.

Up close in the soft lamp light, they looked even prettier, kind of a cross between a summer sky and gathering storm clouds, and the juxtaposition caught him square in the chest. His left knee pressed against her right thigh from when they’d both knelt down on the floorboards, and even through the wool and denim, heat coursed from her body in waves.

He meant to lean back, to correct the mistake of accidentally invading her space and just let her go. Gavin commanded himself to move, to say good night, and give her enough room to walk out the door.

But instead, he kissed her.

5 Things I’ve Learned by Author H.D. Lynn

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  1. No one can teach you your voice.

I started writing when I was six (books about talking horses if you must know). One thing about six year olds you notice is that they do things (pick their nose, play in the sand, color on walls) because they find them interesting enough to capture their short attention spans. I made picture books because I liked reading picture books. No one was teaching me how to do that.

To put your mind at ease, I’ll let you know that God’s Play is not a picture book about talking horses. It does have one thing in common: no one taught me how to write those characters. I didn’t take a class on how to write Toby’s POV. There’s no Ph.D. in storytelling because humans have been telling stories to each other probably as long as our brains have been capable of doing so. After inventing the alphabet, humans literally started writing fiction.

My point is, if you can read and write, you can tell a story.

But a good story? Yeah, that’s the question I know you’ve asked yourself because I ask myself that same question all the time, too. Is it good? That’s a bit subjective, but part of good storytelling comes from practice. You’ve just got to go for it and tell yourself as many stories as possible. Silly stories. Sad stories. Salubrious stories. Anything, really, to get an idea of what you—yes, you—want to say.

  1. But you can certainly learn everything else.

Horses to God’s Play happened because I went to school. That’s the simple part that would’ve been staggeringly difficult if I was born in a different time or even a different place. A good, basic education in writing coherently is something valuable, and I really did learn most of what I needed to write when I was young (start humming The Killers here). I learned how to grammar and (kind of) spell. I read a lot, so I learned some little tricks they don’t teach in 7th grade English. (I had a very good 7th grade English teacher, so I learned plenty there, too.) The greatest leap in my writing style came fairly recently, though, after taking style, rhetoric, and editing classes. Thinking like an editor helped me organize what I was writing and kept me on track during early drafts.

Then, there’s this mysterious business of publishing. The Age of the Internet is upon us, and that makes finding just about anything you want to know possible. There are a lot of writers online, and if you’re reading this, you might be a writer, too. There’s nothing particularly anomalous about how God’s Play got published. I wasn’t taping rejection letters to my wall (most agents and publishers only accept emails anyway), and I didn’t come anywhere close to making this list. I did keep an excel spread sheet of everyone I’d ever sent a query to with some basic contact info and what I’d sent them; this simple system carried over for full requests as well. This is the ‘one page outline’ of organization strategies, both of which were essential to getting God’s Play written and published.

That’s right: the internet, a typing program, a non-embarrassing email address, one front and back page of notebook paper, and an excel spreadsheet. That’s what you minimally need to write and submit a book.

  1. Check your ego.

I did leave one thing out of my ingredients list: other people! That’s because the other people involved in getting a book to publication can be anywhere from one to legions (if you count people funding Kickstarter projects). The standard Starter Pack usually includes some combination of beta readers, critique partners, agent, editor(s), cover artist, and marketer(s)/publicist(s). These people were vital in getting this book published, and I’m appreciative of everything they’ve done for me.

But there were times when I did not want to hear (or mostly read) what they were saying.

I love God’s Play—the story, the characters, it is mine. Mine, I tell you! But parts of it also belong to the people who helped me write this book, and this never would’ve happened if I didn’t have these people in my corner. So I sacked up and made revisions; deadlines weren’t phantoms haunting me from my Ethernet cables. Ego wants to make you feel good all the time. It’s your own little cheerleader, but there are times when this book needed tough love, so ego got benched.

  1. Schedules and rituals can be your friend and your enemy.

A lot of authors have writing rituals. A favorite coffee shop, a special desk, a magical jig, a lucky desk troll—you get the idea. I’m pretty ritual free, and that’s been a bit of a curse for me, especially during that nebulous time called ‘the weekend.’ I can just stay in bed all day! This is when I do go to aforementioned favorite coffee shop and do my magical jig (they haven’t kicked me out…yet).

That said, I’ve often felt hamstringed by rituals. They’re for, like, adults and serious people. A story needs room to breathe. God’s Play started out under a different title; the story was supposed to be novella length. It was a radically different book, and about 40,000 words in, I knew it was going to be a different story than I’d originally thought. So there was rewriting and outlining…and then the story sat. For months. (That’s like writing negative words and losing NaNo.) Then, one a snowy weekend, I sat down and finished the book (35,000 words) in three days. Later drafts made it a bit longer, but that’s how the initial rough draft got completed. It was insane, but it worked for this novel—for me. So don’t get hung up on your 1,653 words a day—just write. Or don’t.

  1. You better be having a blast.

I had a great time writing God’s Play. Seriously, divide 35,000 by 3. If you’re writing ~12,000 words a day, you’re hooked on something (writing and pomegranate green tea). I came back to God’s Play because I believed in this story—there was something about it that was intuitive, living in my subconscious. The ending was there, I just needed to take that leap and slot as much of the plot into place in the first draft as possible. That was fun.

And thank god because editing can be tedious. I loved this story, but you better believe there were times I questioned whether I wanted to publish this book. That nifty excel spreadsheet started to feel like a wall of shame at some point, and I wondered how many revisions I’d need to do before this thing was ready or if it would ever truly be publishable. There’s a lot of self-doubt involved, and it’s only the memory of that hot-n-heavy passion I had with this story that kept me working. I couldn’t betray this book, so I kept working.

And this part? This part is amazing. I found new energy for writing since I looked at the book cover for God’s Play. So keep on keeping on, and enjoy the book excerpt!

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Description: 

Sixteen-year old Toby was trained by a family of hunters to kill shape-shifters — but he has a unique weapon in his arsenal. With a touch of his hand, Toby can lift the magical protection shape-shifters use to disguise themselves as human. It’s an unusual skill for a hunter, and he prefers to kill monsters the old-fashioned way: with a blade.

Because of his special skill, Toby suspects he may be a monster himself. His suspicions deepen when William, a jackal-headed shape-shifter, saves him from an ambush where Toby’s the only survivor. And Toby doubts William helped him for purely altruistic reasons. With his list of allies running thin, Toby must reconcile his hatred of shifters and the damning truth that one saved his life. It’ll take both of them to track down the monster who ordered the ambush.

And Toby needs his unlikely alley because he has a vicious enemy — the infamous Circe, who has a vendetta to settle against the hunters. Toby has to unravel the mystery of his dual nature. And he has to do it on the run — before Circe finds him and twists him to her own ends.

 

boatAbout The Author:

H.D. Lynn is like Harry Potter in one way: she’s currently renting an apartment with a bedroom under her building’s stairs. Other than this, she explores fantasy worlds through storytelling like anyone else. She loves books with a mix of humor, adventure, and horror, and especially enjoys the urban fantasy genre. GOD’S PLAY is her first published novel.

When not writing, she enjoys hiking, climbing, and running. She’s a voracious reader, and has found listening to audiobooks while backpacking to be a perfect mix of two of her favorite things. She currently lives in Connecticut, but finds herself on the road often.

 

Tuesday Tales – Short – Escaping Humanity

EH2_medWelcome back to Tuesday Tales!

This weeks prompt is to be inspired by the word Short.

Since it went over so well last week, I’m returning to Escaping Humanity again.  This time we meet a few other characters. Again, I’ll have to try to shorthand it a little for you.

Annie is a mutant that is dying of a mysterious illness. James (brother of Lynx/Elan from last week) is a clone that was created to be an always-angry super-soldier, the fiercest fighter…but his mother Talisa (who built him) made sure he was damn brilliant too.  He’s confused by the fact that he cares for Annie…but when he kissed her, she collapsed from her illness.

Chance is the Lenape tribe chief, Talisa’s & Roark’s best friend. Charlotte is also James’s sister (and Lynx’s twin…they have a twin connection where one can sense the other…).

Clear as mud? Well, good…here you go, throwing you to the wolves 😉 Oh, and I turned Short into Shorty…b/c that’s a nickname in the story 😉

Charlotte rushed into the room right as James laid Annie on the bed. “What happened? Where was she?”

“She went to see the sunset.” James didn’t bother to hide the snarl that had returned to his voice. He was angry that she’d had another attack so fast. More so that she actually thought she was less of a person. And the pinnacle of his anger lay with the bastard that had done this and so much more. “I’m going to rip that son of a bitch into tiny little pieces.”

“Stand in line,” Charlotte muttered. In quick succession she hooked the monitors back up. The IV was replaced, and she added new medicine. “Her pulse is weak and thread. At this point I don’t feel safe taking another sample, but I think it’s safe to say she’s deteriorating further.”

“Maybe Elan was stupid, but then again maybe she was the smartest one here. We need Mom. You sure as hell can’t think outside the box like she can.”

“Stop it James. Stop taking your confusion out on me. You care about Annie. You want her better. I get it. Just admit it so we can move on and fix her.”

James stopped mid-pace, a low growl in his chest. There were many things he was capable of, many horrible, cruel things. Caring was not one of them. “Nice try, shorty. I don’t care. I’m a not-so-natural born killer, remember?”

“Blah blah blah.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. After checking the monitors and making notes in the chart she stepped away from the bed. “Go ahead and sit with her. I know you want to. I’ll get back to work on trying to think outside the box.”

“What happened?” Warren raced into the room ahead of everyone else. “Is she okay? Damn it. I thought she was up, she was doing better.”

James couldn’t stop the growl that shot through him. “She’s dying. She thinks her parents don’t trust her, and there is no hope for her. Yeah. She’s stellar.”

“Easy James.” Chance walked in behind Abby. “Charlotte? What’s the word?”

Charlotte didn’t respond. When James glared toward her silence, he realized she’d paled so much, she looked like a white woman instead of the native she was. Whatever her distraction, he couldn’t be bothered with it.

“Shorty!” James snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What the hell is up with people anymore? They can’t focus long enough to actually help someone. Since Char is out of commission and can’t be bothered to think outside the box, I guess I’ll go back to the stupid lab.”

“James.” Chance didn’t have to speak loud to put the power of his role behind his words. When James was smart enough to keep his lip shut, Chance turned to Charlotte. “Is everything okay in there?”

Charlotte’s head shook violently and she took several steps backward. “Lynx.” She said nothing else, just stared off toward the west.

“Great. Lynx’s thoughtlessness is making Char useless as hell.” James snarled.

Chance pointed to the door. “Hall. Now.”

James didn’t have to be told twice. He barely made it to the hall before his fist connected with the metal wall with a resounding tone that half-deafened him. “As stupid as I think Elan is—at least she took action! Nobody else is doing a damn thing.”

Chance showed no reaction to the outburst beyond a quirked brow. “That’s two broken hands today. At least yours will heal faster than Danny’s.”

“Stop trying to be clever, you’re not mom.” James dug his fingers into his hair, ignoring the pain from his hand. “Sorry, Chief.”

“Getting tired of apologizing to me yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m damn tired of needing to hear it.” Chance’s hand landed on James’ shoulder with a firm grip. “I am your chief. I’ve always had faith that you could get past this wall you’ve deemed exists. You’re the one struggling with it.”

“I know what I was programmed to be.”

“Then why do you care about Annie? Why do you love your mother? Your father? Why do you protect your sister even when you’re being a jerk to her?” Chance sighed. “You’re as stubborn as your mother always was. She actually thought she didn’t know DNA once. It took Roark beating her over the head a few times for her to get the picture.”

“Yeah. I’ve heard the story.” James sighed and turned to lean his back against the wall. “About a million times. Doesn’t mean I’m not what I was created to be.”

“You were created to be a strong center for your family—to be everything your mother imagined her children to be. Do you really think Talisa would ever do anything exactly as ordered? That anyone, even Steele, could bully her into making you nothing more than a killing machine with no real heart?”

“Mom never did anything as ordered, she hates being ordered around.” James glanced up when the door opened. When Charlotte emerged, her skin almost green, he frowned. “Char. What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” Charlotte’s blue eyes were still wide. “Can you handle the lab for a little while? I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Charlotte?” Chance wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “Anything I can help you with?”

“I’ll be okay. Lynx isn’t blocking as well as usual, or I’m not. I don’t know.” She gave Chance a strong hug. “I’m okay, Popsicle, I promise. It’s been a crazy couple of days and I think I just need to get my head on straight again.”

“You aren’t the only one.” Chance smiled. “Go take some time and get your head together. You can’t work twenty-four-seven. Not even Tal can do that. Then you can come back refreshed and ready to work.”

Before she took off, Char barreled into James. He grunted, but held her close in a hug. “Easy Shorty.”

“Let yourself care before you explode.”

James sighed. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t. The girl had kissed him, and then proceeded to collapse. She was going to die, so what good would caring do?” He kissed the top of Charlottes head. “Go on, Shorty. I’ve got work to do.” He pushed her off him and then down the corridor.

Chance smirked. “If she was feeling better she might have smacked you harder. She wants you to be happy, James.”

“Well maybe if someone came up with a way to save that girl so Abby and Warren could live without suffering like the rest of us.”

“If you want to claim it’s for Abby and Warren, fine. Just keep something in mind, James.”

“What?”

“Your demeanor changes around Annie.” Chance met his gaze levelly. “Just think about that while you’re working on her. It’s not a bad thing to care. I promise.”

“We’ll see.”

*~*

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Sunday Snippets 51 – Masked Hearts


Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

MaskedHearts_MED

I’m back with my travelling wild west show story, Masked Hearts.

I’m jumping ahead a ways because I will be moving on from Masked Hearts soon. Roy and Minnie have grown closer, and Minnie has even allowed herself to get to know the Cheyenne. The more she lets go of her past, the more it returns to haunt her.

Knowing what Rawlins has in store for her, she has asked Roy for one kindness before she’s sold to a whorehouse. Before Roy lets himself sleep with her, he has a confession to make about his unintentional (and forced) role in her, and his own, past. Minnie is shocked at first, but then:

“I don’t hate you. I have tried to blame you, but I cannot. You were no more an adult than I was. You can’t help what they did to you.”

“But you were right. I am why your family…”

She pressed her fingers to his lips, “The Army is why my family is gone. You didn’t kill my father, my brothers, or rape my mother.”

 

*Tiny bit of creative editing was used to get the 8

*~*

If you want more of these wonderfully damaged pair…pick up a copy!

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Minnie Woodward lives a lie. After barely surviving the Bear River Massacre she’s lived in the white world of her guardian Mister Rawlins, her life debt keeping her tied there. The last thing she needs is Roy’s attempts to gain her favor. Her fate’s sealed. She’s never believed in hope, and not even Roy can make her start.

Roy Ornum saves Minnie every night in the traveling Wild West show. The job he took to break his gambling habit brought him a new addiction – her. He knows she doesn’t want to be rescued, but maybe he does. She’s the key to a past he lost, one he wants to find again.

As the two grow closer old wounds are reopened and their burgeoning trust is shattered. When lives hang in the balance of their choices they’ll need to work together. Otherwise everything will be lost before hope can be found.

*~*

Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!

The Atlantean Birthright by Toya Richardson

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Freya Anders is ready to kill Dieter Yong and nothing is going to stop her, because ten years ago he callously murdered her parents. She is immortal; a descendant from Atlantis with precious gifts. It was her powers the Atlanteans were after that fateful night.

Allowing her grief and rage to consume her, she falls into a trap set by Dieter. When sexy, charismatic, Armand De Silva comes to her rescue, she is livid. Is her fury because Dieter survived, or because of the way she’s drawn to this stunning Atlantean?

When their slow burning desire for each other reaches boiling point, they must decide whether they have the strength to deal with their emotions and trust again. As Dieter launches his plan for revenge, can Freya find the courage to rescue Armand from certain death?

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Although writing has been a big part of life for many years, it’s since 2009 that I’ve completed most of my work. Starting off with a romance/thriller, then fantasy and my most recent work, which is paranormal romance.

I grew up in Essex, but now reside in Suffolk – with my husband, grown up son and Masai the cat – where I work part time as an admin assistant. My other hobbies and interests include; reading, Formula One racing, darts, listening to music – mainly rock – cinema, live concerts, going to the theatre, keeping fit, gardening and holidays.