Wednesday Western- Nicole McCaffrey-western time travel

Please welcome my longtime critique partner and wonderful writer, Nicole McCaffrey. She's here to tell us about her newest book.

I’ve always loved the idea of writing a time travel story, but I knew if I ever made the attempt, I’d want a slightly different spin on it. Instead of sending a modern day woman back to be romanced by a man with 19^th century manners and morals (dreamy sigh) I wondered what would happen if I sent a 21^st century guy—accustomed to the looser morals of today’s society—back in time and introduced him to a 19^th century woman. My passion for the Civil War often leads me to that era for story settings, and I knew I’d want to incorporate that into the story. But that’s as far as I ever got.  The idea seemed destined to gather dust in the back of my imagination since I never could figure out where my characters would meet…or how.

Then one evening as I drove by an abandoned Greek Revival style house that I often drive past, I had one of those “eureka!” moments.

My hero would buy an abandoned old house with every intention of tearing it down.  He soon learns it was once the home of a famed Civil War spy, and on inspection of the home, he steps into one of the upstairs bedrooms and encounters her.  But is she real--or a ghost?

Below is the blurb for This Moment in Time and a brief excerpt—I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  Leave a comment for a chance to win a free pdf of this story!

~*~

Not even captivity can sway Southern widow Josette Beaumont from spying for the Confederacy. Under the nose of the Union army, she willingly risks her life to pass information to her sources. Until a stranger appears in her bedroom one day with a cryptic message: stop spying or you'll die. She has no reason to believe his warnings about the future, but his company is the only solace in her long days of imprisonment and his friendship quickly comes to mean so much more. If only she could make the sacrifice he asks of her...

To hell with history, real estate mogul Jamie D'Alessandro has no intention of saving the historic mansion he's purchased, even if it is the home of a famous Confederate spy. But when he steps into an upstairs bedroom of the old house, time suddenly shifts, bringing him face to face with a very beautiful and irate Southern lady. Against his will he's drawn into her cause--to save the Confederacy. But Jamie has a cause of his own. According to his research the lady spy has only days to live. Should he change history to save the woman he loves--or sacrifice life in his own century to be with her for This Moment in Time?

The flash light glinted off the top of a framed painting. Jamie lowered the beam, illuminating the portrait. A woman with dark hair and smoldering dark eyes. A modest hint—downright puritan by today’s standards—of pale bosom peeked over the ruffled bodice of a white dress. Somehow that hint of creamy flesh seemed more forbidden—sexier — than any modern woman he’d ever seen. There was something prim and ladylike about her that made it feel wrong to stare at her like that. Was this the famous spy? Her name escaped him, but he made a mental note to learn more about her.

A loud thump from the second floor caught his attention. His heart leaped to his throat, and for a moment, he felt like a scared kid in a haunted house. He shook his head, chuckling at himself. The house had been locked up tight since the renovation team had come through to inspect it, there was no one around. Probably a rodent or critter had gotten inside. Still, he had no intention of spending the night listening to the scratching and thumping of a wild animal.

He shone the flashlight ahead of him until he found the winding, elegant staircase that led to the second floor. Common sense warned him not to trust the stairs; the old house was full of wood rot. But curiosity got the better of him and he tested the first step before putting his full weight on it, and the next, and the next. Fully expecting to go through the boards and land on his ass, he continued the same tenuous journey until he reached the second floor.

Amazed he’d actually made it, he gave a quick glance behind him, then began to move around the second story. Shining the light upward, he saw the staircase continued to a third floor, but wasn’t about to push his luck any further.

He paused, waiting until he heard the scratching again. With the beam of light at his feet to illuminate the floor, he took slow, cautious steps, following the sound. As he drew closer he paused, wondering if he should have brought something for protection. What if the creature was rabid?

Stepping fully into the room where he’d heard the noises, he paused to appreciate the huge windows that overlooked the valley. They didn’t make houses like this anymore, and while he had nothing but the utmost appreciation for the trappings of modern society, he had to admit, there was something about the way they built things a couple of centuries ago. They didn’t need high tech gadgets and expensive fabrics to scream wealth and elegance. It was right here in the architecture.

Forgetting himself for a moment, he stepped across the room. The loud groan of a floorboard caused him to freeze, wondering if the floor could support him. The banging now came from behind him. Heart suddenly pounding, he whirled. A door—to a closet, perhaps?— rattled insistently. He swallowed. He’d never believed in ghosts, had laughed off any notion that they existed. So what the hell was this?

As he stood there, a cold draft of air swirled about his feet. Wasn’t it supposed to get really cold when a ghost appeared? No, no, he wouldn’t allow his imagination to take him there. Dammit, he was James D’Alessandro III; he’d never allowed anyone or anything to intimidate him. It would take more than an abandoned old house to spook him.

On silent feet, he crossed the room to the door, mentally counting—one, two… three. He yanked it open. His breath left him in a relieved exhale. Nothing stood behind it. The cold breeze continued, whistling through a broken window. The branch of a tree had long since grown inside and as the wind blew, it scratched against the wall. A gust must have blown the door shut; that was probably the bang he’d heard from downstairs.

He took another deep breath to help slow his heart rate. While he was out gathering tools tomorrow, he’d have to get something to put over the window. He’d never get any rest with that door thumping all night long, and the air blowing inside would only make the house colder.

Chuckling at his own ridiculous fear, he started to turn. A voice—not the howling of the wind this time— and the sudden sensation of warmth at his back stilled him.

“Honestly, Sebastian, he can’t keep me locked up here much longer. I’ll go mad.”

A woman? She sounded calm, perhaps a little angry.

“Drat it, now I’ve lost count.” A heavy sigh followed. “The last I remember was twenty strokes, I’ll have to start over from there.”

Heart back in his throat, he turned just enough to glance over his shoulder. The first thing to greet him were the windows—the very same windows he’d admired moments ago. Only they were now adorned with white lace. To the left, a warm fire crackled in the fireplace, casting a golden glow across the gleaming hardwood floor. And directly in front of him, a dark gray cat lay sprawled across an ornate four poster bed, calmly grooming itself. It paused, tongue in mid stroke and stared up at him with curious green eyes.

“Twenty one. Twenty two. Twenty…”

Swallowing, he forced his gaze from the cat to the source of the voice. A woman sat at a vanity, tugging a brush through long, dark hair. In the mirror, he watched as her gaze moved from her reflection. To him. She let out a gasp. The brush fell from her hand. She whirled on her seat to face him.

“Wh—who are you?”

She could see him!

If it’s possible to be born a writer, then I certainly was.  I’d probably have started sooner if there had been pen and paper available in the womb! But for as long as I can remember, I have heard voices in my head.  Fortunately for me, they’re all characters—begging me to tell their stories.

I’ve been married to Peter, my best friend, for fifteen years, and am a work-at-home mom with two busy boys ages ten and twelve.  When I’m not working, writing, or buried nose-deep in a research book, chances are I’m baking, taking long walks with my beloved border collie mix or just kicking back and hanging with my guys.

 

Please visit my website www.nicolemccaffrey.com or my blog http://nicolemccaffrey.blogspot.com/.

This Moment in Time is available:

Kindle

The Wild Rose Press

Barnes & Noble

Wednesday Promo- Nicole McCaffrey

Nicole and I go back to the right before the birth of her oldest son. Yep, that's when we met via a writing contest and have been friends and critique partners ever since. And the strangest thing... We've never met in person and only talked on the phone twice I think. It's been an internet friendship. But a good one! Welcome Nicole! PS: This is a great read!! OH! and I'm kicking off my blog tour at her blog today- so sneak over and leave a comment to get in on my contest.

Bio:

If it’s possible to be born a writer, then I certainly was. I’d probably have started sooner if there had been pen and paper available in the womb! But for as long as I can remember, I have heard voices in my head. Fortunately for me, they’re all characters—begging me to tell their stories. My first sale was a holiday novella, published by The Wild Rose Press in November 2006. The Model Man, my first full length contemporary, was released in March 2008. My true passion has always been historical, though, and I’m thrilled those stories are finally coming to life in print!

I’ve been married to Peter, my best friend, for twelve years, and am a work-at-home mom with two busy boys ages seven and ten. When I’m not working, writing, or buried nose-deep in a research book, chances are I’m baking, gardening, or just kicking back and hanging with my guys.

1) Why do you write western historical romance?

I've always been attracted to the lawlessness of that era --good versus bad, white hat versus black, lawman versus outlaw. It seems like such a simpler time than what we live in today, which makes it that much more enticing as an escape. *G* I also love the many colorful characters who populate western towns from the soiled doves, saloon girls, gamblers, gunfighters--there's conflict built right in. Give me a buttoned up Katharine Hepburn-type spinster and have her lock horns with a gambler or gunfighter passing through town--now that's my idea of fun.


2) What makes a hero or heroine memorable in your opinion? Emotion. Gunfighters, for example, are characters that seem to pop up in all my historical stories. But to write about someone who kills mercilessly and just moves on would be boring. Giving them reactions, feelings, emotions rounds them out and makes them easier to relate to. They may be the fastest gun in the west with a cool head and deadly demeanor, but the reader still has to be able to relate to them. Same with heroines. It's hard to write about characters who are 20+ years younger than you and most likely that much younger than your reader as well. So you need to give them feelings the reader can relate to.

3) What else have you published and what are you working on?

Small Town Christmas was the story that started it all, a holiday novella published by The Wild Rose Press in 2006. Then came The Model Man, a contemporary romantic comedy in 2008. It will be available in audio book later this summer. I also have a Civil War time travel This Moment in Time, under contract with The Wild Rose Press, I'm hoping it will be out later this year. And anyone who has read Wild Texas Wind will be glad to know that Kip Cooper, my hero's sidekick in WTW, is getting his own story, which I'm writing as we speak.

Blurb and links:

Website: http://www.nicolemccaffrey.com/
Blog: http://nicolemccaffrey.blogspot.com/

All Raz Colt wants is land, a quiet peaceable existence and to put his life as a hired gun in the past. When the chance to earn a sizable fortune by rescuing a kidnapped heiress comes his way, he seizes the opportunity. Trouble is, the heiress doesn’t want to be rescued. Offsetting Arden O’Hara’s beauty is a rattlesnake personality and shrewish temper. Despite her claim that she faked the kidnapping so her fiancé would ride to her rescue, Raz knows someone is out to kill her. And if anyone gets the pleasure of wringing her lovely neck, it’s going to be him.

Arden O’Hara is desperate to go home. Her fiancé was supposed to ride to her rescue, proving it’s her–and not her father’s money– he loves. Instead an arrogant stranger, with weapons strapped gun-fighter low and a decided lack of sympathy for her situation, shows up spouting a ridiculous tale about someone trying to kill her. It’s infuriating when Raz Colt’s claims prove true after not one but several attempts are made on her life. She has no idea who this fast gun with the deadly aim is, or why he makes her feel as wild and untamed as the Texas wind. But like it or not, if anyone is capable of getting her home alive, it’s Raz Colt.

Excerpt

San Antonio, Texas
Spring 1884

“Brought you some towels, sugar.”
Raz Colt leaned back in the steaming bath water with a deep sigh. Life didn’t get much better than this. A cigar in one hand, a glass of fine bourbon in the other, and a pretty little dove for this evening’s pleasure. As she closed the door behind her, muffling the sound of piano music from downstairs, the cloying aroma of cheap perfume wrapped around him.
He took a sip of the bourbon and sighed again as the smooth liquid warmed his gullet. The past month had been busy as hell. He’d helped a friend clear his name of a brutal murder charge and brought the real killer to justice, then stuck around Colorado just long enough to make sure they hanged the bastard. He’d even provided a new rope for the occasion. It wasn’t often his chosen profession of hired gun brought him such personal satisfaction.
Betty Lou, or whatever her name was, inched closer, pausing long enough to refill his drink before taking the stool beside the tub. Dressed only in a camisole and pantalets, she had curves in all the right places plus a few extra, he noted with appreciation. A man liked a little something to hold onto in bed.
She trailed a finger in the bath water. “Want me to wash your back?”
He smiled languidly as the bourbon washed through him. “Darlin’, you can wash anything you’d like.”
He’d been riding for weeks, heading straight to Texas after finishing up in Colorado. For no reason other than a sudden yearning to see his home state. After all that time on the trail, he was more than saddle sore, with aches in places a man didn’t like to think about.
She giggled a little too much at his comment, but he didn’t mind. He sat forward, careful not to get the cigar wet or spill his drink, while she dipped a cloth in the water and lathered it with a spicy, exotic-smelling soap. Damn near anything would smell better than the fine layer of trail dust he’d come in with.
“So,” she said, gently applying the hot cloth to his back, “you new in town or just passing through?”
He closed his eyes, groaning as the heat penetrated aching muscles. Tired and sore as he was, she’d be lucky if she got a rise out of him before he fell asleep. “Ain’t decided that yet. What would you suggest, sweet thing?”
“Stay, sugar, stay,” she cooed. “If you’re lookin’ for a good meal, Ma’s Place up the street is the best. And if you’re lookin’ for work, try the Triple H.”
He slumped back against the tub as she moved around to the front, soaping his neck and chest. “Triple H?”
“It’s the biggest spread around. H.H. O’Hara’s the richest man in these parts. He’s always lookin’ for help.”
Raz took another sip of his drink then clenched the cigar between his teeth. Ranching. He’d tried that once. Didn’t pay nearly as well as hiring out his gun. And he’d never been one for taking orders.
Betty Lou—or was it Linda Sue?—dipped the cloth again. “Want me to wash your hair?”
The bath was included with the price of the woman. He’d always had clean habits, but he supposed half the men waiting in the parlor downstairs had no use for soap. “Why not?”
She ladled warm water over his hair, then lathered the soap between her practiced hands. “I ain’t never seen hair like yours before,” she purred. “It’s so black, it’s nearly blue. You Indian or somethin’, sugar?”
“Might be.” The fact that his mother was half Mexican, half Indian while his father was white wasn’t something he cared to discuss.
Betty Lou seemed to realize she’d hit a nerve. She slid closer, massaging soapy fingers over his scalp. “I think it’s real handsome.”
Through partially lowered lids, Raz noted with pleasure the gentle sway of her bosom as she scrubbed. She’d gotten damp while washing his back, and the camisole clung to her like a second skin. Rosy nipples, outlined against the wet material, practically begged for his attention. Her breasts were mere inches from his mouth, close enough to easily…
Of course, he’d have to set either the drink or the cigar aside to do that. He chose instead to simply watch, anticipating the pleasure ahead.
“Tell me more about this H.H. O’Hara.”
“Oh, the poor man,” Betty Lou sighed. “His daughter’s been kidnapped. I hear he’s right beside hi’self with grief.”
“Does he know who did it?”
She ladled rinse water over his hair. “They left a ransom note, but H.H. ain’t one to be told what to do. So he’s offerin’ a lot of money to the first man that brings his little girl back alive. With her virtue intact.”
“Her virtue?”
Betty Lou pressed a towel to his sodden hair. “H.H. don’t want nobody touchin’ his baby girl. That’s why he’s offerin’ such a big reward.”
Reward? He bolted upright in the tub, sloshing water over the sides with the sudden movement. Removing the cigar, he turned his full attention to Betty Lou. “How big?”
She moved behind him to knead the muscles in his back. “I hear’d tell it was ten thousand dollars.”
Drink midway to his lips, he paused. Ten thousand dollars?
Without a word, he handed Betty Lou the glass and rose from the tub. He felt her curious stare as he slid on trousers over still-dripping skin. Grabbing his gun belt, he strapped it on, then went for his boots. He shrugged into his shirt without bothering to turn it right side out or button it, rummaged through his trouser pockets for a handful of eagles and pressed them into Betty Lou’s palm. “This should take care of you for the rest of the night.”
His fallen angel looked downright disappointed, red-painted lips pouting prettily. “Where you goin’, sugar?”
Raz dropped his hat on over wet hair, then bent to place the cigar between her parted lips. “Triple H.” With a wink he strode toward the door. “Whiskey, women, and a fine cigar go a long way to make a man feel comfortable, but only one thing keeps a man warm at night, darlin’.”
She gave a huff of indignation and put a hand to one rounded hip. “What’s that?”
He tipped his hat to her and opened the door. “Money.”

Wednesday Promo- Nicole McCaffrey

Okay before I give this over to Nicole- since I haven't found a meter to put on my blog -yet- I have to confess to 4 1/2 miles so far this week, but I haven't walked today.


Back to our regularly scheduled blog:

Today it is my privilege to showcase a writer I've been friends with for many years. In fact, through both her son's births. However, we've only talked on the phone once and have never met in person. When I first found the internet, I found Nicole. Even though she's an easterner and I'm a westerner, we formed a bond through our love of westerns and struggle to become published. Over the years we've laughed, cried, and ranted together over writing, kids, and family.

Here's Nicole:

If it’s possible to be born a writer, then I certainly was. I’d probably have started sooner if there had been pen and paper available in the womb! But for as long as I can remember, I have heard voices in my head. Fortunately for me, they’re all characters—begging me to tell their stories. My first sale was a holiday novella, published by The Wild Rose Press in November, 2006. The Model Man, my first full length contemporary, was released in March, 2008 and I’m under contract with them for two more stories.
I’ve been married to Peter, my best friend, for ten years, and am a work-at-home mom with two busy boys ages six and eight. When I’m not working, writing, or buried nose-deep in a research book, chances are I’m baking, fussing over my many houseplants or just kicking back and hanging with my guys.

You write both contemporary and historical, which is your favorite to write and why?

Definitely historical. I love the idea of simpler times, simpler struggles. It seems so much more romantic than anything going on in the present day. I guess we could sum that up in one word: escapism! Now and then, though, I like to take a break from trying to remember all the historical "stuff" and write something contemporary-set, and that’s how Small Town Christmas and The Model Man came about.

You write hot heroes, what do you think helps you raise their heat factor?

LOL Well, I don't set out to create hot heroes on purpose, they just sort of pull up a chair in my brain and start talking to me. One thing my heroes all have in common, though, is a genuine love for women. Not just a sexual attraction, but a sense of appreciating everything about the opposite sex—a fascination with women and how they tick. Sure they're also the kind of guy who wants to promise you an unforgettable night in bed, but they also believe they can deliver on it. Add to that a healthy dose of arrogance (after all, he loves all women and all women love him!) and an overabundance of self confidence and charm, and you've pretty much described my ideal hero, LOL. Enter the feisty heroine who isn't interested in him, and you've got the makings for the kind of sparks I like to see fly.

Tell us about your releases.

Well it’s kind of interesting that my first two releases are contemporary set when I consider myself an historical writer, LOL. But in both instances, the story ideas came from dreams. Funny, I never seem to have historical dreams!

In The Model Man I really tried to explore the idea that sometimes, the person you thought was all wrong for you is the one person who turns out to be exactly right for you. Derek is a hot, successful young guy at the peak of his career—he’s not looking for excitement, but he is looking for something different. Kelly is an over-40 divorced mom who believes romance has passed her. She’s totally focused on being the best possible mom she can to her two teenagers. She has her hands full, she’s definitely not looking for love—and he isn’t looking for more than a one night stand. The fact that he’s a romance cover model and she’s a romance novelist just made it more interesting!. I had a lot of fun bringing these two characters together, and a lot of fun writing the story. I think it shows!

Small Town Christmas has a slightly different tone. In this instance, my heroine, Holly, has a run-in with not just the guy who got away—but the one she never really had. Tucker Callahan has just returned to their hometown, with his two young daughters, divorced and ready to embrace the small town values he grew up with. Holly is getting ready for a big change in her career, something she’s been working toward a long time, and is more than eager to shake the small-town dust from her feet. When love enters the picture, she has to choose between her dream guy and her dream career. Since it was a Christmas story with a Christmas Eve ending, I had to add a little nod to my favorite Christmas movie in the ending, LOL.

What are you working on now?

Recent months have seen a real return to my historical roots. I have a western historical in the hands of an editor as we speak, and am working on one of the two other stories that were inspired by that one. Northern Temptress, my Civil War story with TWRP should be out later this year. Additionally, I have a couple of short Civil War stories I hope to pitch to TWRP soon.

Thank you for stopping by Nicole! I can't wait to read your western historical, and we'll all be on the lookout for the Civil War stories.

www.nicolemccaffrey.com

Wednesday Promo

I entered the first line of my WIP in Karin Tabke's "First Line" contest. It's on her blog it you want to take a look at all the great first lines.

This Friday I'm guest blogging at Nicole McCaffrey's blog. I still need to come up with a topic. Shhh... Don't tell Nicole!

On Tuesday I'm blogging at the Cactus Rose blog. There have been some great blogs on this site. The Cactus Rose authors have posted about some interesting topics. Also Tuesday night, December 16th is when they announce the winner of the Sony eReader contest. So if you want to get your name in the running, you need to purchase one of my e-books and get your name in the pot.

Next week Author Melinda Porter will be my guest on Wednesday. So be sure you pop in to see what she has to say about her writing life.

Promo Wednesday

Not much happening in the promo department here. I've slowed down on the big push of promoting Outlaw in Petticoats. The next big push will be when it comes out in print in November. Right now I'm gearing up for RWA Nationals at the end of the month. I'm blasting out pages on the WIP so I can pitch it and have it ready to go if an agent or editor wants to see it. I'm working on my pitches. Glad my RWA chapter is having a pitch meeting next week. I can use help and practice giving my pitch.

I found out I give my workshop at the Historical Conference the Wednesday of Nationals in the morning. Which means I'll help with the literacy signing set up in the afternoon. That first day I have a pretty busy schedule!

I received a print copy of my critique partner, Nicole McCaffrey's book "The Model Man" autographed by her and I can't wait to read it again. This is a feel good, sexy read that you want to read over and over again. IF you don't have a copy you need to get one! You can download it electronically here or buy it in print here.

Another author friend has been raking in the good reviews for her two latest published works. Lauri Robinson's short story "An Unbelievable Journey" and her novel, "A Wife For Big John" are two feel good, funny reads. You can find these at The Wild Rose Press.

Anyone else have any exciting news?