Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Wednesday Promo- Gabi Stevens
Gabi Stevens was born in SoCal to Hungarian parents. After spending time in boarding school, college, and studying abroad, she’s still in the classroom trying to teach eighth graders the joys of literature. An award winning author, Gabi now writes in New Mexico where she lives with her robotics engineer husband, three daughters, and a neurotic dog. She loves to play games, has a wicked addiction to reading, avoids housework and cooking, and doesn’t travel nearly as much as she would like to. You can reach her at PO Box 20958, Albuquerque, NM 87154-0958 or through her web site at www.GabiStevens.com.
How hard was it to transition from historical to paranormal romance? I’ve always been writing paranormal and historical. When I finaled in the GH, it was in paranormal. I like the world building in paranormal, which is similar to the rules that govern historical--in order to make the story realistic, you can’t ignore the rules of society. And actually paranormal allows you a little more freedom. I was always accused of writing wallpaper historicals (I did lots of research, but I like novels lighter on the history). In paranormal, our world, your rules. But you had better establish those rules carefully.
What do you like about writing paranormal? Hmmm, I may have drifted into this question when I answered the last one. In paranormal, your imagination sets the limits. You must have logic, you must establish your setting, but once you do, you’re set. And while I like the vampires and werewolves out there, my favorite is aspect of paranormal is magic. I’ve always loved books with magic. I read and re-read magical books long before Harry Potter. Edward Eager, Lloyd Alexander, E.S. Nesbitt, L Frank Baum--they were my favorite novels. Now ever other children’s book features magic, lucky kids.
What do you have in the works at the moment? Right now I’m putting the final touches on an essay on Sue Sylvester for a book on Glee coming out in the fall, but my main focus is on finishing book three of the Time of Transition series, Toil and Trouble. It finishes the story arc started in The Wish List. Each book in the series, The Wish List, Spellbound, and Toil and Trouble, has a complete romance, but the other plot line continues in all three. And then I’m already cooking up new ideas for the world I’ve created.
About the book:
In the magical world a Time of Transition occurs every seventy years. Old Council members step down and new ones are chosen; but the biggest change is the appointment of the Fairy Godmothers. Unlike their role in storybooks, Fairy Godmothers protect the barrier between the magical and human world. Three new godmothers discover their destinies in this series…And this time the transition won’t be smooth.
The Wish List tells the story of Kristin Montgomery, A CPA in San Diego. When she discovers her three aunts are fairy godmothers and she's next in line for the job, her uncomplicated life disappears like magic. No, not like magic; it is magic. Kristin not only has to deal with burgeoning magical powers, but also a reluctant arbiter, a selfish sprite, and a suave French sorcerer. When one of them turns out to be the bad guy, Kristin must learn to trust her heart and her instincts to keep herself and the ones she loves out of danger.
Set in contemporary San Diego, The Wish List combines fantasy with romance with and a touch of humor.
Excerpt from THE WISH LIST
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She whirled around, and her throat closed in fear. A hulking brute of a man stood beside her, glaring at her. In the next instant, his fist shot out. Screaming, she cringed and braced herself for the blow.
It never came.
“Stop that noise.”
Startled silent, she stared at him. His hand was behind her back, and he was practically growling at her. He cast his gaze skyward. “God, Aldous, what did you get me into?”
The man’s scowl almost made her scream again, but instead she wrinkled up her forehead. “Are you going to hit me?”
“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t hit women.” He held out his hand. “What were you thinking?”
Clutched in his fist was the red wand. Startled, she looked up at him. “Where did you get that?”
He shook it at her. “It was following you. Why didn’t you stow it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your wand. It was following you. Do you want to be seen?”
“Seen? What the hell are you talking about?” She stared at the wand in his hand, and then looked into his eyes.
A burnished copper gaze blazed back at her, its fire summoning images of Vulcan’s forge. Black hair shadowed his brow, and an aquiline nose guided the burning gaze into hers. Her breath rushed out of her.
Wow. What a face.
Wow. What an angry face.
He glowered at her. “Take this thing.” He thrust the wand at her.
She took it. “Who are you and how did you get this wand?”
He closed his eyes as if seeking patience. “I didn’t get the wand, it followed you. That’s why you either stow it or carry it with you.” He reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and brandished a long white willow stalk wrapped in gold and inlaid with ebony. “Like this.”
“Oh my God, you think you’re a fairy godmother ... er, godfather too?”
“Very funny.” He squinted at her with a mixture of disbelief and disdain. “I am a wizard, not a fairy.”
“Oh, well, pardon me.” She didn’t care how lovely he was to look at, she wasn’t about to hang around with some delusional man. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be seeing you.” Not.
She slipped her key into the lock and opened the security door. As she pulled it open, the handle jerked from her hand, and the door slammed shut, reverberating with a loud crash. “Hey, you can’t--“
“I haven’t finished with you yet.” The “wizard” was pointing his wand at the door.
“Did you do that?” She faced him, anger riding high in her blood. How dared he bang the door shut. Then she noticed how far her head tilted back to look into his gaze. Her eyes widened. God, the man was tall. He towered over her. She swallowed hard.
“Now you look terrified.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Should I be?”
“No.” He drew his hand down his face.
“And I’m supposed to trust you?” Panic rose in her throat. “I don’t know who you are--”
“Ritter. Tennyson Ritter. I’m your arbiter.”