Do You Know #MFRWauthor @Heather_Curley?

Meet MFRW Author Heather Hambel Curley

Heather Hambel Curley graduated magna cum laude from Robert Morris University in 2004, with a degree in Communications.  She started writing paranormal and historical fiction in the fourth grade.

She began Civil War reenacting in 2001 and is currently a corseted reenactor with the Baltimore Light Artillery, an elite artillery unit that provides demonstrations for battlefields and national parks.  After graduating college, Heather was a volunteer at Harpers Ferry National Historical Park in their archaeology and living history departments.

Heather currently resides in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and two sons.  She also enjoys white wine, One Direction, and tattoos.

Connect with Heather here:
Blog: http://heatherhambelcurley.com
Website: http://heatherhambelcurley.wix.com/home
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/heatherhambelcurley
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/1544587-heather-curley

Some Answers to our Questions...
Day or Night?
I usually write at night, after my kids go to bed. It's only a few hours, but it's the quietest part of the day!
Pen/paper or Computer?
I do my core writing on the computer, but I always have a pen and paper with me. I keep a notebook by my bed incase I'm influenced by dreams (which happens a lot).
Fruit or Chocolate?
Chocolate covered fruit.  Sounds healthy to me!
Coffee or Tea?
Both.  In massive, massive quantities.
Roller Coasters or Merry-Go-Rounds?
You know, I'm going to have to go with the Merry-Go-Round. Since I had my kids, just the thought of a Roller Coaster makes me feel like I need a Dramamine.
City life or Country Life?
I'm all about country life. Fresh air! No heavy traffic! (Now I'm thinking about Green Acres...)
Ebook or Paperback?
Although I've fully embraced ebooks and my Kindle, I love the feel of a nice paperback in my hands.
Cats or Dogs?
Cats.  We have similar personalities.
Wha's your Guilty Pleasure?
I don't think any of my pleasures are guilty ;)

Heather Newest Book...
With Me Now
The Lazarus Society #1
Mainstream (PG13) New Adult Paranormal Suspense
Evernight Publishing

Madison Monroe is an anthropology prodigy. She’s poised to graduate with a double major, but she has limited field experience. The crowning jewel for her graduate school application is an upcoming dig in Normandy.

And she just got arrested for underage drinking.

Less than a month before she turns twenty-one.

Now, instead of taking part in her dream dig, she’s kicked off the crew and barely escapes academic probation. The only option for her application is a routine archaeological survey in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

Once in Gettysburg, though, the “simple” dig isn’t exactly what it seems. Madison can feel a presence watching her and can hear voices of the dead calling from the battlefield. And, when she discovers a long buried secret at the Spangler Farm, she inadvertently sets off a chain of events that will put everything—including her life—on the line.

AMAZON Buy Link

EXCERPT

She towel dried her hair enough to keep water from trickling down her back, and then wrapped another towel around her body.  It was a good thing she’d done a load of laundry the previous day. Not that she had “date” quality outfits with her, but she was fully aware which pair of jeans accentuated her curves the best.  She pulled on a red vintage style t-shirt emblemized with a grayed out Union Jack. It was casual and cute, though she was reasonably sure her clothes were the last thing on his mind. 

The steam from the small bathroom had filtered out into the sink area, fogging up the mirror and giving everything a generally damp feeling.  She wiped her hand across the condensation covered mirror. In the unobstructed reflection she could see a figure, a man, standing directly behind her. 

She bit back a shriek and jerked around.  There was no one there; the room was empty.
“Shit.”  The words felt as if they bubbled out of her throat, pushed out by her rapid heartbeat.  She gripped the countertop with one hand to steady herself.  The reflection in the mirror was clear and crisp.  It wasn’t a shadow or the light playing on the steam from the shower. It was a man.  It was him, the man who’d been watching her for days.

He’d stood and watched her at the Spangler Farm.  He’d breathed on the back of her neck, whispered in her ear as she worked in the test pit.
Now he was in her room.

Have You Read #MFRWauthor Rebecca Hunter's Stockholm Diaries?

Meet MFRW Author Rebecca Hunter.
Rebecca is a writer, editor and translator who has always loved to read and travel. Rebecca has, over the years, called many places home, including Michigan, where she grew up, New York City, San Francisco, and, of course, Stockholm, Sweden. After their most recent move from Sweden back to the San Francisco Bay Area, she and her husband assured each other they'll never move again.

Well, probably not...

Connect with Rebecca here:
www.rebeccahunterwriter.com
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rebecca-Hunter-Writer/1415176695468525
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25606451-stockholm-diaries-caroline"

How did you become an author?
I've always wanted to write books, but even back in college I was already telling myself, ""you're not good enough."" Fast forward... well, a few years. Still wanted to write books. Still didn't think I was good enough. Finally, I decided that it didn't matter anymore whether I thought it was good enough!

What is your writing life like?
I'm a first-thing-in-the-morning kind of writer, and I have a daily word count that feels very manageable. And I very rarely miss a day. I'm not the introverted stereotype of a writer: I'm pretty social, and I crave a daily dose of conversation, but I also need a good dose of solitude during the day. I generally write a book in 4-5 months... and then there's the revisions. I'm usually working on writing a new book while revising another one. I write both non-fiction and fiction under two different names, so as you might imagine this can get a little chaotic. But it seems to work for me. I guess I'm what Isaac Asimov called a "serial monotasker"!

What other type of books have you written?
I first published poetry in my early twenties, but I decided I wasn't good enough to continue (note a common thread?). Over the years, I've written a bunch of non-fiction pieces and worked as a high school/community college English teacher, so I guess you could say that my foot was in the door, but I was still just peeking in.

How did you come up with your recent series idea?
My husband is Swedish, and we have lived in Sweden twice. Over the years, I have met many, many ex-pats who have wonderful and unique, against-all-odds kinds of love stories with Swedish men... so the series was born.

Finally, about four years ago, I decided to give fiction a try. It was a mystery with multiple perspectives that dissolves into a complicated mess, but out of its ashes rose the Stockholm Diaries series!

Stockholm Diaries, Caroline
Amazon BUY LINK

In this sexy contemporary/New Adult romance, a Swedish pro hockey player with a rough reputation meets the American girl next door in a steamy twist of travel and adventure. Will they be able to overcome his dark past and her uncertain future to turn their sensual nights into something more?

A Swedish pro hockey player with a rough reputation meets the American girl next door in a steamy twist of travel and adventure.

EXCERPT
“Du,” he said under his breath. Then he asked, “Are you American?”
His eyes were even more intense up close. Something about their color drew her in—in fact, they were not unlike the colors she had tried to capture with her camera only minutes before. In another light, she might not have noticed them, further hidden behind a few days of stubble and a bruise on his cheek that she hadn’t seen earlier. But he looked at her again in the same way he had in the park, a way that made her suddenly feel his entire presence. And her own. And just for a moment, she forgot everything else.
He had asked her a question, Caroline reminded herself, searching for what it was. About being American.
“Yes, I am,” she said.
“That’s why you didn’t say anything,” he said softly.
She assumed he was talking about the park, about why she didn’t respond to Baseball Cap’s provocation. But Caroline didn’t want to think about Baseball Cap right now.
Instead she nodded and then added, “And I forgot my keys again.”
While the self-locking door on this flat was supposed to be a helpful safety feature, there were clearly downsides to the set-up. Especially since it was too early to wake up Veronica for the spare key. Luckily, her friend had shown her the trick to breaking in if this ever happened. The door handles were different from the knobs she was used to in her Michigan apartment: These were three-inch rods that opened when pulled down. If the top bolt lock wasn’t fastened, a slim arm could slip through the mail slot and reach for the handle. If that arm was long enough. It was time to find out.
Determined to focus on the dilemma at hand and not the formidable man only a few feet away from her, Caroline knelt down next to the door and shimmied her forearm through the mail slot. It barely fit, and she could feel the metal scraping at her skin. Suddenly, half way into the pro-cess of breaking in, she again became keenly aware that this strange man was watching her with interest. This large man with intense blue eyes. She turned back to him, and he seemed to read her hesitancy.
“Don’t worry. There’s no way I could fit my arm through there,” he said with a chuckle. They both looked down at his long, muscular forearms, easily twice the size of Caroline’s. “I just want to see if you can do this.”
She stretched her arm out as flat as possible, working it slowly through the slot. Finally, her elbow crossed through to the inside, and she bent her arm up, reaching around. Nothing but the wooden door. After a few minutes of groping, Caroline gave up. Her arm wasn’t long enough.
Slowly, she dragged her arm out and sighed. Then she looked up, once again conscious of the man’s presence. He was still watching her from only a few feet away with a look she couldn’t quite read—amusement and something else.
“Wait here,” he said, as if she had any other choice.
This time, his key found the keyhole, and the door to his apartment swung open. She watched as he retreated down an empty hall. Every Swede she had met so far had spoken English with a sophisticated-sounding British accent, the Swedish school standard, apparently, but this guy’s English was clearly American and sounded comfortable. He must have some connection there, she thought, judging from his reaction to her accent. But before she had a chance to think more about it, he reappeared with a long, wooden spoon in his hand.
“Try this. You can hook the handle with it,” he said, handing the spoon to her. “Someone might as well get use out of it.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up into a little smile, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Caroline knelt back down and wedged her arm through the opening again, spoon in hand, until her elbow passed through to the other side of the mail slot. So far, so good. The handle of the spoon should be long enough if she could get the angle right. She waved it around, but it just swished and banged on the wooden door. Closer, she told herself. She swung the spoon a little harder, but she hit the handle sooner than she had expected. With a clang, the spoon fell out of her hand.

BOOK SPOTLIGHT: Portrait of a Girl @Luanna_Stewart #MFRWauthor

Portrait of a Girl
by Luanna Stewart
Entangled Publishing

Tony Simons is on the trail of an art theft cold case. He's hoping that by sticking close to Heather James—the daughter of his deceased prime suspect—he'll find the answers he needs. Instead, he's finding himself distracted by a gorgeous woman who drives him crazy in every way imaginable. Now Tony's in serious trouble. Even if Heather can't—or won't—tell him where the stolen paintings and money are, she may well have stolen his heart. And now someone wants her dead…

EXCERPT

“What color would you choose, then?” She took a step closer, like she was angling for an argument. Arguing was not what he had in mind, either, unless it led to making up.
“I’d choose a blue like your eyes.” He closed the distance and tugged a lock of hair free from her ponytail.
“Or a mellow gold like your hair. Or”—he stroked her soft cheek, noting the catch in her breath—“the shade of your blush when you’re aroused.”
Her lips parted with a soft “oh.”
This right here was why he’d asked to be taken off the case or shipped overseas. He’d known, during that last meeting with his boss, that he was headed for this kind of trouble. The last thing he wanted to do was paint the fucking house.
She put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him close, her soft lips laying claim to his mouth. He slid an arm around her waist, pulled her close, pressing against her heat. Her scent made him forget all the reasons why this was a bad idea.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” She nibbled at his lips, playing and teasing.
“You’re right.” He nuzzled her neck, tempted to take a bite.
“I hardly know you.”
“Exactly.”
“Why are you so agreeable?”
“One of us has to think clearly, and I’m doing my damnedest to be a gentleman.”
“Maybe I don’t want a gentleman.”
She pulled him back for another kiss, openmouthed, tongues clashing. If the bad guys showed up right now—
He broke the kiss. They were both breathing hard, and her heart raced along with his. He had to get her out of his house. “I’ve got a deadline to meet, or I won’t get paid. I’d hate to make my landlord upset by being late with the rent.”
He felt her smile against his neck. “I happen to know your landlord, and her cat would go hungry if you were late with the rent.”
“I’d hate to be responsible for a cat going hungry. Maybe we can continue this discussion later.”
“You can count on it.”

ABOUT Luanna Stewart
Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. As soon as she discovered her grandmother's stash of romance novels, all plots had to lead to a happily-ever-after.

Born and raised in Nova Scotia, Luanna now lives in Maine with her dear husband, two college boys and two cats. When she's not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious.

Writing under the pen name Grace Hood, she has two novellas published with The Wild Rose Press. Now she is excited to have a book published under her own name with Entangled Publishing.

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