I would like to welcome Jean and her characters to my blog and here she is to bare her soul!
What is your greatest temptation:
In men: an accent, usually British/Scottish/Australian
In food: sugar (and in drink: coffee of any kind!)
In clothes: mary-jane shoes – so comfy and cute
What is your greatest weakness (example: buying shoes)? My children. Okay, that’s the mom answer, but it’s true. Also flowers – for my perennial gardens. I love flowers. I will spend my entire IRA on them, if it means a gorgeous garden of lilies and lupine! Flowers bring sunshine to my days.
If you could have any kind of car, what would it be? Red Jeep Wrangler (which is the same answer as my teen self who loved to watch MacGyver; yes, yes, his was not red, but a gal’s gotta stand out!)
Your dream home – mountains or ocean? Mountains, with a lake. Or at least a meadow of…flowers.
What inspired you to become a writer? My love of the hero’s journey, the hope of a happy ending, and my tendency to get lost in daydreams. My mother was also an artist and poet.
Do you have a daily writing routine? If so, please share. Nope! I write in nooks and crannies and around family and work and life schedules. Sometimes I can write for hours on end for days in a row if time (and life) permits; sometimes in the wee morning hours. I would love to write daily. Eventually!
What is your favorite book? Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. Two words: Jamie Fraser.
What is your favorite movie? The Princess Bride
Who is your favorite historical figure? Jacques Cousteau and Eugenie Clark, pioneer marine biologists
In your books, who is your favorite hero and please introduce him? Well that would be Sir Alasdair Montgomerie, a man carrying pivotal information for the Scottish Cause against England, but who travels under the guise of Aleck Stirrat, a trader. He’s got a dark past and a baron hunting him.
Who is your favorite heroine and please introduce her? That would be lovely, but cursed, Lady Deirdre MacCoinneach, an enchanting woman with a magical ability to sense the lifebloods or auras of others.
A Hundred Kisses from The Wild Rose Press and Jean M. Grant!
Two wedding nights. Two dead husbands.
Deirdre MacCoinneach wishes to understand her unusual ability to sense others’ lifeblood energies…and vows to discover if her gift killed the men she married. Her father’s search for a new and unsuspecting suitor for Deirdre becomes complicated when rumors of witchcraft abound.
Under the façade of a trader, Alasdair Montgomerie travels to Uist with pivotal information for a Claimant seeking the Scottish throne. A ruthless baron hunts him and a dark past haunts him, leaving little room for alliances with a Highland laird or his tempting daughter.
Awestruck when she realizes that her unlikely travel companion is the man from her visions, a man whose thickly veiled emotions are buried beneath his burning lifeblood, Deirdre wonders if he, too, will die in her bed if she follows her father’s orders. Amidst magic, superstition, and ghosts of the past, Alasdair and Deirdre find themselves falling together in a web of secrets and the curse of a hundred kisses…
She sensed no colors in the murky, lifeless water, and it was freeing. All breath escaped her. Muted visions passed before her eyes—her mother, her father, Gordon, and Cortland. Just a moment longer, she thought…
Suddenly, a burst of warm light invaded her thoughts as air filled her lungs. Red-hot hands burned her shoulders and ripped her from her icy grave. She breathed life into her body. She coughed, gagging on the change.
Muffled words yelled at her.
Oh, God, so hot. His fingers were like hot pokers. Her head pounded as she slowly returned to the present. Heat radiated from her rescuer. Somebody had pulled her from the water.
“Hush, lass. You nearly drowned.”
His voice was as soothing as a warm cup of goat’s milk on a winter’s day. A red-hot glow emanated from his body. Never before had she felt such a strong lifeblood, and it nearly burned her. She struggled in his arms to get free. She blinked, only seeing a blurry form before her. “Release me!”
She splashed and wriggled, and he did as told. She clambered to the shoreline. Numb and shaken, she began to dress. It wasn’t easy as she fumbled with slick fingers to put dry clothes over wet skin. She instantly regretted her naked swim. She pulled on her long-sleeved white chemise first.
She faced the forest, away from her rescuer. He quietly splashed to shore. His lifeblood burned into her back. He wasn’t far behind, but he stopped. She refused to look at him until she was fully clothed, not out of embarrassment of her nudity, but for what had just happened. He released a groan and mumbled under his breath about wet boots. His voice was not one of her father’s soldiers.
When she put the last garment on, her brown wool work kirtle, she squeezed out her sopping hair and swept her hands through the knotty mess. She fastened her belt and tied the lacings up the front of the kirtle. Blood returned to her fingertips, and she regained her composure. Belated awareness struck her, and she leaned down and searched through her bag for her dagger. She spun around.
She gasped as she saw the man sitting on the stone-covered shoreline, his wet boots off. Confusion and the hint of a scowl filled his strong-featured face. She staggered back, caught her heel on a stone, and fell, dropping the dagger. Dirt and pebbles stuck to her wet hands and feet, and she instinctively scrambled away from him.
His glower, iridescent dark blue eyes, and disheveled black hair were not unfamiliar. Staring at her was the man she had seen in her dream—it was the man from the wood.
Jean is a scientist, part-time education director, and a mom. She currently resides in Massachusetts and draws from her interests in history, science, the outdoors, and her family for inspiration. She enjoys writing non-fiction articles for family-oriented and travel magazines, and aspires to write children’s books while continuing to write novels. In 2008, she visited the land of her daydreams, Scotland, and it was nothing short of breathtaking. Jean enjoys tending to her flower gardens, tackling the biggest mountains in New England with her husband, and playing with her sons, while daydreaming about the next hero to write about…
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