Going Celtic with Maeve Greyson
One of the things I love about the Brava imprint is the wide variety of styles, settings and subgenres. Today I hope you’ll welcome Maeve Greyson, a finalits in the Writing with the Stars Contest, who loves to add a Celtic twist to her work.
My blog is now yours, Maeve.
Hi Mia! I’m so excited to be a guest on your blog and really appreciate how you’ve taken the time to showcase the Writing With the Stars finalists.
I’ve just returned from a two week visit of Scotland and Ireland. My head’s still spinning a bit from “muse stimuli overload” and the start of the first round of the contest. The paranormal romances I write all have a “touch of the Celt”. So, I’m thrilled to say this trip really started my muse to chattering.
Here’s a brief excerpt from Eternity’s Mark where Taggart is trying to resist the temptation of Hannah while she sleeps:
Taggart shifted in his seat, glancing around the dimly lit plane. He couldn’t help it. The close confines of the aircraft left him little choice. His gaze returned to Hannah, to her full moist lips and softly twitching eyelids. She traveled the realms of deep sleep. The steady whisper of her breathing matched the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He eased his hand over and traced the pads of his fingers along the delicate inside skin of her arm. Soft, cool temptation whispered against the tips of his fingers as he smoothed them down to her wrist.
Sheer madness. Taggart adjusted his pants at the crotch and balled his hands into fists. He was her protector. Hannah was off limits.
The rustle of her body as she moved forced him to stare straight ahead. The scent of her assaulted his senses. She smelled of wildflowers after a rain and of woman −a very desirable woman. Taggart shifted in his seat again. Damn. Did they think men had arses the size of children? A man couldn’t even spread his legs to give his cock room to breathe.
The silk of her hair brushed against his arm and he risked another glance. She’d curled to her side and faced him, blouse agape, treating him to an unhindered view of the creamy temptation of her throat and the swell of one luscious breast.
“God’s teeth,” Taggart groaned, covering his face with his hands.
“Are you airsick or something?”
Taggart jerked straight in the seat, scrubbed his face and shifted a bit as he turned slightly away from Hannah. “I guess ye could say I am feeling a bit under the weather. But I shall be just fine. I’m sorry if I woke ye. Try and go back to sleep.”
Hannah yawned and stretched like a cat, plucking at the blanket pooled around her waist. “The roar of the engines always knocks me out. I’m sorry I’m such lousy company.”
Taggart stared at the blanket with a jealous gaze. He’d give anything to be that bit of wool. “Sleep, Hannah. That way ye will be well rested when we arrive.”
Hannah yawned again, tucked the pillow tighter under her neck and snuggled deeper into the seat. “I appreciate your understanding, Taggart. She rubbed her nose and her voice trailed off as she added, “You really are a nice guy.”
“Aye, Hannah, I truly am a nice guy.” Taggart readjusted his pants with a muffled groan.
Maeve Greyson writes her paranormal romances tucked away in a five acre sanctuary in western Kentucky. Her husband of over thirty-one years caters to her whims while she pecks away at the keyboard. Her writing partner, Jasper the dog, listens closely for the words “The End”. Because he knows that signals a walk in the woods. Maeve can also be found here:
Maeve’s Brava mentor is paranormal author Rebecca Zanetti. Visit her website for an excerpt of her vampire romance slated for a February 22, 2011 release!
When I read Maeve’s excerpt the fact that her hero said, “God’s Teeth” told me he’s not from around here. Maybe not from around now either. What sort of things jump out at you to let you know you’re in for a story with some unusual elements?