Hey there Fresh Fiction readers! It’s release day for RISKY GAME, my fourth title in the Out of Bounds series and my fourth release in the past 364 days! It’s been a whirlwind, but I’m really excited for readers to finally get Brody’s story. I know I’m not supposed to admit it, but Brody is my favorite child among all the players on the fictitious Baltimore Blaze football team. But if I’m telling the truth here, the book I was supposed to release today was never going to be Brody’s story. As a matter of fact, my favorite child was actually *cough* an accident. You see, I never saw Brody on the horizon when I was plotting out the books I was contracted for. He just appeared on page thirty three of FOOLISH GAMES, wearing his trademark neon sneakers and lounging on Will Connelly’s sofa. Loose-limbed and carefree, the blue-eyed jock breezes through life with his charming smile and athletic grace. I was immediately smitten. But there’s more to Brody than just his cover boy good looks and all-pro ball handling skills. He’s vulnerable on many fronts and he’s trying his best to hide it from the world. But as…

You wouldn’t think there’d be a connection. Grungy guys wearing jeans so dirty that they’d probably stand on their own. Beards, long hair, scary … we’ve all seen the type. And having done research on real outlaw motorcycle gangs (OMG), it’s not a pretty or sexy world in reality. Apparently, though, there’s a big appeal for these bad boys, as evidenced by the surge of popularity for OMG series. I didn’t even know about this trend when I turned an idea I’d had in my files for over a decade into my second book in the Justiss Alliance series. WILD WAYS, however, is not about OMG heroes. It’s about two Navy SEALs who lost their careers when a covert mission went wrong and end up riding Route 66 for some much needed R & R on their Harleys. And yes, they encounter several of those bikers along the way. Just when Julian Cuevas is ready to pack it in and start his new job with The Justiss Alliance, though, he overhears a woman in dire need of a hero. Mollie Reagan’s hired escort has just tucked his tail between his legs and hauled butt, leaving her on her own to…

Love blogging with the Fresh Fiction people. As I pondered what to write about today, I realized that the question below was the core of at least three of my novels. How far would you go to protect someone you loved, especially if that someone happened to be a child? MORTAL DECEPTION tells the story of a sister who goes to a bar dressed in slutty clothes for the sole purpose of seducing an anesthesiologist so that she can walk away with his DNA sample. You see, her nephew is dying, and this last-ditch effort may be the only thing that will save his life. Think about that. Could you have sex with a perfect stranger if it meant saving a child you love? Would I? In a heartbeat. But what if you find out that the man is suspect number one in the murder of his wife? Without blinking — in a heartbeat. In SHATTERED my heroine finds herself entrusted with three orphaned Colombian children that somehow, she has to get past the cartel checkpoints. She makes no bones about the fact that despite only knowing the children for a short time, she’d die before she allows them to…

Shannon Ridgeway awakens from a ten-year coma to a whole new world of madness where reality television has taken over the planet and everyone’s life appears to revolve around a tiny screen on their cell phones! This is the inciting incident for Book 2 of my Contemporary Fairy Tales series for River North Fiction. RISE & SHINE is based (loosely) on Sleeping Beauty, and Shannon adjusts to the changes around her about as readily as her creator embraces change. Not so much. I like to know what’s ahead of me. If the road sign reads, “Curves Ahead,” I want to know what kind of curves, how many there are and how steep they might be. I know this isn’t how life works – the lesson has been brought home to me time and time again – but what can I say? If information is disbursed on a need-to-know basis, then I’m all in because I need to know. The beauty of my life as a fiction writer (and there is a lot to love about that sentence fragment!) is that my books have taught me to live a little more spontaneously. I mean, plan as I will, my characters have…

Everyone deserves a happy ending. We all have our own tragedies to survive, large and small, so we all need the reminder that hope and love are all around us. I believe this so deeply that I built two entirely separate—and surprisingly successful—writing careers so I could make that happen for all my characters and all my readers. Twelve years ago, in one of the darkest periods of my life, I desperately needed hope. My daughter was born very ill, and in her first few years of life, she faced so many crisis-level medical problems that I held her life in my hands more times than I want to remember. At some point, a nurse handed me a romance novel: KISS AND TELL by Cherry Adair. That novel—with its message of hope fulfilled and of happy endings emerging from the darkness and chaos—saved my life. It, and other romances like it, were my escape, my antidepressant, my hope during hopeless times. So when I started thinking that maybe I could write one of these books that had saved my life, my only goal was to help someone else the same way I’d been helped. If I could do that for…

COTTONMOUTH AND THE RIVER What is the difference between mature fiction and children’s literature? Is it the closet-filled monsters and things that go bump in the night? Could it be the lack of romance and sexual tension? Or is it merely that children take the front stage as the protagonist? Every author would have to agree that in some way, children’s literature deals with the same amount of content mature literature does. Everything from a depressed donkey in the Hundred-acre Wood, to Aslan’s betrayal, we see that certain pieces call children to ponder and reflect upon the same things we adults are called to reflect upon. In fact, it was Dr. Joy of Homerton College who has written numerous pieces on the effects of children’s literature who boldly stated “…these [children’s] books can tell us far more about the adult world than they can about the children’s.” The point being, some of the greatest short stories and printed work are children’s books which don’t hold back any punches. I don’t know about you, but my list of nostalgic books as a child are some of the heaviest in their message and content. And it was there within those pages as…

When I launched my first online auction for diabetes research in 2005, I had no idea I would still be running the fundraiser ten years later. I started it because I wanted to make a difference to my son, who was diagnosed at five years old, and everyone else suffering from this terrible disease (over 350 million people have diabetes worldwide). So far, we’ve raised over $2 million, but I honestly thought we’d have a cure by now. Ever since we first learned that Thad faced this challenge, I’ve been hearing that a cure is right around the corner. And when you slug away at something for a long time, and it doesn’t feel as if you’re making enough of an impact, it can be tempting to give up. In those moments of discouragement, however, something always happens to keep me going. Many times it’s an episode of insulin shock and another jolt of that terrible fear that grips every parent of a child with diabetes. But it can also be something positive, like having my son put his arms around my neck and tell me how much he appreciates what I’m doing. Or another author, friend or supporter emailing…

My name is Anna Sugden and I need lots and lots of sleep! Eight hours is the absolute minimum; ten is better. I wish sometimes that I only needed four hours. Think of all the things you could get done with those extra four, even six hours in your day! I could write books in half the time. Read more books. Finish more craft projects. The list is endless. What’s more, I wouldn’t feel guilty for frittering away time on computer games or losing myself down a research rabbit hole or shopping for shoes! But, I don’t have that extra time. Instead, I find myself trying to sneak those additional minutes of snoozing! It would be great too if I was good at naps, but I’m not. I love hearing about those people who can ‘power nap’ for ten or twenty minutes and be refreshed. Me … I’d wake up groggy and (yes, you’ve guessed it) find away to get ten, twenty or even thirty more. I also wish I was one of those people who wake up bright and breezy and raring to go (like Doc Cambridge). I’m a slow starter in the morning and like to ease myself…

When I wrote the first book in the Dante Walker trilogy, I had no idea that Dante would speak directly to the reader in the opening pages. It wasn’t until I was done with copyedits and proofing, and ARCs were being prepped, that I had the idea. After all, I’d spoken for Dante entirely in THE COLLECTOR, and Dante Walker is one to speak for himself, whether he wants to be heard or not. So I approached my editor with the thought of including a letter from the soul collector, and she immediately embraced the concept. The next morning, I drafted the first letter from Dante which appeared in the final, printed version of THE COLLECTOR. Readers seemed to love it, and so I drafted a second one for the sequel, THE LIBERATOR. Now, with the release of the final book in the trilogy, THE WARRIOR, I wrote my last letter from Dante. This time, Dante’s words had a sharper edge. He’s been through a lot, after all, and is tired of the attacks on those he’s grown to care about. I hope you enjoy reading this final letter from Dante Walker, and the very first taste of this sexy,…

As a long-time renter, I often fantasized having my own garden; three seasons of bloom, a symphony of blossoms and butterflies. In winter, the snow would rest like lace on the dried stems and flowers. I did not allow the small discouragement, known as reality, to dissuade me from believing in my perfect garden. When my husband and I finally bought our little bungalow, I approached the garden with trowel in one hand, seed packets in the other, only to discover beneath the neat landscape, sheets of heavy plastic which, meant to foil weeds, would certainly deter my cottage garden, the one I had dreamt of for so long; foxgloves, hollyhocks, and herbs dropping their seeds to the ground in a perpetual rhythm of death and rebirth. My vision of sinking my (gloved) hands into the fertile earth was replaced by the sharp reality of scissors and shears, the sweat-inducing labor of removing heavy layers of mulch-covered plastic sheeting anchored to the ground by metal prongs. It took years to unearth all that plastic. I found an entire fern garden one spring; the fiddleheads in fetal curls unfurled their lovely fronds beneath the sun. The anemic bouquet of Black Eyed…