I'm pleased to have Terry Graham on my blog to day talking about her latest book.
Tell us a little about yourself:
I grew up in the Adirondack mountains, in a tiny town of about 200 residents. The third child of six total, I was always a bit of a loner and would lose myself in books as often as not. My mom was a nurse, and my dad an outside electrician, and both came from large families, so education was considered important. Luckily, I was gifted with a healthy amount of intelligence and enjoyed school. My dad spent large amounts of time laid off, so I wanted a stable profession and became a chemist. I did that for twenty years, then went into IT until I retired three years ago.
What do like the most and the least about writing?
I love the rush I get when I write a scene that works, especially the sex scenes, and the endorphins that are created. I’d say it’s better than actual sex, but that would only be true if I specified ‘bad sex’. I hate the marketing, mostly because I’m not a social person and so much of it revolves around engaging with strangers, but also because it takes away from the time I could use to write.
Give us a peek into your latest published work?
In A Matter of Manners, Jeremy Wyles is a duke who believes himself sterile. He's also a sadist and fears no lady would agree to marry him. When a woman shows up on his doorstep, pregnant and claiming to be his wife, he glimpses a chance to have the family he’s always wanted. A loveless marriage in name only seems the perfect solution, except for two problems – the lady resists the idea and he’s not sure he can resist his wicked urges.
Irish rebel Kathleen "Katy" Brennan only seeks recompense from the husband whose cousin married her by proxy and left her with child. She has no knowledge of how to be a duchess and her rebel past has a rather traitorous secret. Submitting to the duke jeopardizes all she holds dear but resisting proves equally daunting. The duke offers everything she’s ever wanted, except for a real marriage.
Can Jeremy and Katy trust each other and open their hearts or will the sins of the past destroy all hope of redemption?
What’s next on the writing horizon for you?
I’m currently working on a rewrite of the first story I ever wrote. It’s the first in a Scottish Highlander series I call Tartan Threads. Set in the seventeenth century, the series is considerably less steamy than my Shades of Sin series and revolves around a laird and his closest friends. Wild Rose Press has already contracted the second in the series, but they want to publish MacGregor’s Promise before MacIan’s Curse. (Titles are still tentative.) While less erotic, the Tartan Threads series delivers an emotional rush just as intense and adds a touch of paranormal into the mix. In MacGregor’s Promise the hero’s sixth sense lends a bit of tension to the story, and in MacIan’s Curse an ancestral ghost enjoys teasing our our hero and heroine when she isn’t safeguarding our characters.
Is there anything you want to tell readers?
Follow your dreams, even when you aren’t sure they’re headed where you expected them to end up. Some of our best dreams are the ones that follow a path we didn’t see or wouldn’t choose for ourselves.
Excerpt:
A marriage of convenience...or could it be more?
“Bollocks!” The expletive burst out, unbidden. He had to stop using the word before it slipped out in the wrong setting.
At least it got her attention. Her moss-colored eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise.
Another flicker of want paralyzed him.
“I should go.” With a grace that took his breath away, she rose and turned toward the door. This time, though, her feet inched forward.
“Stop!” Try as he might, it came out as a command.
She dropped into the chair, her porcelain skin fading to the pasty white color it had taken on when she vomited.
He raked his fingers through his hair. What was happening? Besides him losing control?
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he explained. “It’s George I wish to thrash.”
To his surprise, she harrumphed in a very unladylike manner. “Might I watch?”
Her hand flew up and covered her mouth. Wide, emerald eyes with thick, long lashes stared at him, half horrified. Then she lifted her chin in defiance.
Damn, she was pretty. Dark cherries and clotted cream pretty.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway, drawing her attention, but Jeremy continued to stare. He didn’t care who entered. He wanted to ogle her for a few minutes.
“Speak of the devil,” her luscious lips muttered.
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