Alison Henderson's Blog - Posts Tagged "a-man-like-that"

Hey, everyone! Come join me today at http://authorroastandtoast.blogspot.com to celebrate my latest book - A Man Like That. The ladies, along with their hot virtual butler, Oliver, are throwing me a good old-fashioned Ozark barbeque and barn dance. If you've never visited this site, you MUST. It's completely unique and great fun. Oh, and I'm giving away a free pdf of A man Like That to one lucky commenter.

A Man Like That has been chosen as one of the top 100 rated e-romaces of 2011 by The 100 Romances Project! Here's part of what the reviewer had to say:

"I loved this book for the wonderful characters to the setting. I actually felt I was on the trail with Morgan and Jessy. The scenes are described in great detail you could picture yourself riding along. I wanted to see what was going to happen with the family and if Morgan would change his mind. There are a couple of twists which keep the reader hooked. I finished this in one night, because I had to know what was going to happen. I even cried a few times along the way as I felt for the characters with what they were going through.

A must read."

To read the whole review ... http://onehundredromances.blogspot.co...

As the holidays approach, we’re often drawn to reflect on what we value most. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how this applies to both my life and my writing. In writing, an author’s values are expressed through theme. These days theme is a hot topic; writing-related articles and blogs on the subject seem to pop up wherever you look. Because I write in multiple genres, I’ve been wondering how my stories connect—why I write what I write.

A writer’s theme is different from her subject matter or author brand. Theme is not whether you write about highlanders or cowboys, dukes or detectives. My first two published books are western historical romances set in Missouri just after the end of the Civil War. That tells you something about the setting and subject matter but nothing about the theme. It also might brand me as an author if I let it (although brand encompasses an author’s style and voice as well). Because my newest manuscript and current WIP are both snappy contemporaries I wanted to figure out what they have in common with my historicals.

To read more and for a chance to win a free book: www.rosesofprose.blogspot.com

I’m not quite sure how it happened, but I am now the keeper of The Family Secret. I am the only known maker of Gram’s Gravy.

My mother’s mother died in 1998, shortly after her 98th birthday. Widowed at 49 and not quite five feet tall, she lived a few blocks away while I was growing up and was an essential part of our family life. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas until she was well into her 80’s, Gram was in charge of making the turkey gravy. There was nothing fancy about her method, no exotic additions or sophisticated techniques, but somehow she concentrated the flavors into the richest gravy imaginable. A couple of tablespoons brought plain turkey and ho-hum stuffing to life. We rationed our helpings to make sure the gravy would last as long as the leftovers because when it was gone, it was gone. Powdered or bottled gravy was no substitute.

To read more and have a chance to win a pdf of A Man Like That ... http://www.rosesofprose.blogspot.com

My latest western historical romance, A Man Like That, is featured today at http://kellymoranauthor.blogspot.com/

I invite you to stop by and leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy!

I just received a lovely review from Romancing the Book for A Man Like That.
The reviewer said, "Ms. Henderson finds a way to make you laugh, cry, hope and fall in love with this couple. I got so wrapped up in their lives and wanted to step in and whack Morgan up alongside the head to get him to see what he is missing out on...I enjoyed this story and look forward to reading more from Ms. Henderson. She has a way of showing all sides of life and the way a strong woman who is determined can help show a family what real love is and help them to heal and rebuild their lives. Simply Wonderful."
To read the full review... http://www.romancing-the-book.com/201...

Do you expect success, or does accomplishment take you by surprise? Sometimes we try to protect ourselves from disappointment by expecting the worst, or we refuse to admit our hopes to others to avoid embarrassment if we fail. These behaviors are two sides of the same coin. They both deprive us of the full experience of anticipating the outcome of our endeavors. In seeking to avoid the lows, we miss the highs.

Among my siblings, I have always been considered “the practical one”, not “the creative one” or “the dreamer”—in other words, the last one anyone expected to become a writer. However, when I started writing nineteen years ago, I fully expected success. I didn’t know any better. I finished a couple of books, obtained an agent, and expected to become a published author in short order.

I soon learned the road to publication is rarely that smooth. Publishers’ needs change, readers’ tastes change, and life intervenes. Many years passed without a sale, but I kept writing, and through it all, I still expected success. Part of that was due to stubbornness and part to perseverance, but mostly it was unquenchable optimism. I’d long since lost my naïveté about the publishing business, but I never lost my conviction that I could succeed.

I’m definitely a glass-half-full type of person. I accept reality but always expect the best. I can’t imagine living any other way. I certainly never would have become published if hadn’t expected success. It’s far too easy to become discouraged.

Now, I share my hopes with my family and friends. If they ask what I’m working on, I tell them. I no longer wait until I’ve sold a story to admit I wrote it. For me, being confident enough to risk failure is the flip side of expecting to succeed, and knowing I’m not on the road alone helps bolster that confidence.

The heroine in my latest historical romance, A Man Like That, is the embodiment of expecting success. She begins her journey full of ingenuous enthusiasm but soon learns life can be a much rockier path than she anticipated. Through it all, her innate optimism pushes her on.

Here’s a blurb:
Jessamine Randall, fearless crusader and champion of the downtrodden, is not a woman to be left waiting at the altar. When her fiancé disappears hours before the wedding, she hatches a plan to track him down and bring him back where he belongs.

Morgan Bingham knows he’s no good. Never has been. Never will be. A former outlaw is no fit husband for the daughter of the town judge, despite her misguided notions. Besides, after ten long years away from home, it’s time to return to the hills and face his demons.

Ill-prepared, but armed with unshakeable certainty, Jessy follows Morgan to his family’s cabin deep in the Ozark Mountains where she’s sucked into a whirlpool of deep secrets and old hatreds. While she fights to bring light and hope into their dark lives, her greatest challenge is Morgan himself. Can she ever convince him he’s worthy of love?

Today I'm interviewing Jessy Randall, heroine of my post-Civil War romance, A Man Like That, at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com. I'm also giving away a PRINT copy of the book in a drawing through my website: www.alisonhenderson.com

Here's the blurb:
Jessamine Randall, fearless crusader and champion of the downtrodden, is not a woman to be left waiting at the altar. When her fiancé disappears hours before the wedding, she hatches a plan to track him down and bring him back where he belongs.

Morgan Bingham knows he’s no good. Never has been. Never will be. A former outlaw is no fit husband for the daughter of the town judge, despite her misguided notions. Besides, after ten long years away from home, it’s time to return to the hills and face his demons.

Ill-prepared, but armed with unshakeable certainty, Jessy follows Morgan to his family’s cabin deep in the Ozark Mountains where she’s sucked into a whirlpool of deep secrets and old hatreds. While she fights to bring light and hope into their dark lives, her greatest challenge is Morgan himself. Can she ever convince him he’s worthy of love?

Today I'm blogging about writing a sequel without really trying and giving away a copy of my post-Civil War historical romance, A Man Like That, at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com. I'd love to see you there!

I don't read or write horror, probably because I hate to be scared. But here's an excerpt from A Man Like That that forced me to face several of my personal phobias.

He reached back. “Take my hand. I’ll go first. The trail gets steep up ahead, with lots of loose rock underfoot.”
She entrusted her small hand to his and followed him. Morgan was right. A few yards into the woods, the trail began a steep descent toward the rushing cataracts of the river. The trees barely muffled the splashing sounds of water racing over rocks, fallen tree trunks, and any other impediments nature had the nerve to throw in its path. Several times her feet slipped on loose pebbles, but Morgan’s strong grip held her upright.
“Where are the caves?” she asked, trying to subdue her panic. The incline was so steep it seemed they were sliding down the face of a tree-covered cliff.
“The caves are above the river on this side.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re almost there.”
They skittered down another short section of trail before coming to rest on a ledge of solid rock. The sounds of the water were very close now.
Hesitantly, Jessy stepped toward the edge of the rock ledge and peered over. About twenty feet below, the river coursed through the wide gorge it had carved in the rock. An unfamiliar fear of heights assailed her at the sight of the sheer drop, and she jumped back.
Morgan clasped her hand, drawing her toward him. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”
“That’s very reassuring,” she replied, trying to sound unconcerned as she regained her footing.
He tugged her hand. “The caves are over here.”
She turned to follow but stopped short when she spotted the gaping black maw in the side of the hill. A prickly chill raced up her arms. The dusky mouth of the cave was ominous enough, but the striped limestone walls soon disappeared into an inky blackness that appeared to descend straight to the center of the earth.
She held back at the entrance. “How can you search in there? It’s too dark to see anything.” She tried to mask her anxiety with logic. “There might be
animals in there, a bear or something.”
“What’s the matter? Lost your nerve?”
His teasing voice raised her hackles. She jerked her hand from his grasp. “It just seems like a waste of time if we can’t see.”
Morgan slid the small pack off his shoulder. “Unlike you, I came prepared. I brought a candle.” He struck a match.
She crossed her arms. “I’ll wait for you here.”
He reached out a long arm, snagging her elbow and pulling her with him toward the cave. “You’ll be safer with me. You’re more likely to be eaten by a bear out here, anyway. It’s too early for the bears to hibernate. They’re out hunting for food, fattening up for the winter.”
At his mention of bears, Jessy grudgingly ceased her resistance. She had managed to avoid meeting a bear for twenty-one years, and she didn’t want to spoil her record this morning. At least Morgan was armed if they should encounter any hungry wildlife.
The entrance of the cave was tall enough to stand in. She glanced at the rock walls lit by the candle’s yellow glow. Strange markings and drawings covered the walls, and the ceiling near the entrance had been blackened by smoke. She shivered. “Someone’s been here, but I don’t think it’s Sally.”
“These caves have been used as long as there have been people in these hills,” Morgan replied. “Those drawings were made by the Indians long before white men moved into this part of the country, maybe even before they came to America. Since the Indians left, the caves have been used to hide all sorts of things. Caleb and his friends used to hide whiskey and counterfeit money here.”
“Well, Sally’s not here, so I think we should go back outside.”
“I want to check a couple of smaller chambers in the back. I might be able to tell if she spent the night here.”
He held the candle closer to the back wall, and Jessy saw a smaller opening, just big enough to crawl through. Her heart began to pound, and she couldn’t seem to draw a full breath.
“If you think I’m going through that hole, you can think again.”
He crouched near the entrance to the smaller chamber. “You want to stay out here by yourself?”
“I’m not moving from this spot. If a bear comes, I’ll scream. I promise.”
He cocked a brow. “Suit yourself. I won’t need my rifle, so I’ll leave it with you. Try not to shoot yourself.” With that ringing vote of confidence, he laid the weapon on the floor of the cave and disappeared through the hole, taking the candle with him.
Although her eyes had partially adjusted to the dim light, Jessy inched back toward the entrance. If she stayed just inside the mouth of the cave, she would be keeping her promise, but she would also be able to see out and breathe fresh air. Maybe that would help fight the feeling that the walls and ceiling were closing in on her.
Suddenly, the light dimmed, and a dark outline filled the entrance, the outline of a man with a gun. Jessy gasped. With a speed belying his size, the man reached in, grabbed her, and clamped a filthy hand over her mouth, stifling her cry. She struggled in his grasp, but he was huge, huge and unkempt and as malodorous as fetid swamp water.
“Stop wiggling,” he growled low in her ear. He pinched his meaty fingers together for emphasis, grinding her soft inner cheeks into her teeth. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she fought harder. She struggled to form sounds in her throat. She had to make some kind of noise. She had to warn Morgan.
“Shut up and hold still, or I’ll have to knock your head into the wall,” the giant threatened. He lifted her off her feet and made a motion to follow through on his words. Jessy stopped struggling. She couldn’t do Morgan any good if she were unconscious or dead.
“We’re going to wait here quiet-like ’til he comes out,” her captor whispered. His hand pinched tighter, and her eyes watered from the pain.
“You understand?” he asked.
She nodded the best she could. Who was this monster, and what did he want? He must have watched them enter the cave, because he obviously knew Morgan was with her and intended to capture him, too.
“There’s no sign of her here, but I did find a sizeable stash of corn liquor.” Morgan’s voice echoed from the smaller chamber.
Jessy struggled and tried to cry out, but the hand across her mouth tightened brutally.
“I wonder if it’s part of Ethan’s supply,” Morgan continued. His head reappeared through the opening.
At that moment, Jessy gave a sudden, sharp kick backward into the shin of the man who held her, catching him by surprise.
“Yeooww!” he howled, but his grip remained as tight as ever.
Morgan’s hand shot forward toward the rifle he’d left on the floor of the cave.
“Drop it, Bingham, and come on out of there,” the monster growled. “I got your lady friend here, if that’s what you call this hellcat in pants. If you want to make sure she don’t get hurt no worse, you’ll come out real careful-like.”


What about you? Do you like to be scared when you're reading, or writing? What scares you most?


Alison
www.alisonhenderson.com