Linda's Literary Lair! Books for the intelligent, sexy, and curious.
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| Cagaloglu Hamam in Istanbul |
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| Try it! |
Predictable. A slow, knowing smile curled her lips. Bullies were always good for a giggle.
Killing them would take hardly any time. That was her problem with young men. Once she got started, it would be so hard to stop. Like humans and their potato chips.
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| Buy here. |
“You lookin’ for a good time, darlin’?” Chad propped his fist against the old brick building, blocking her in with his arm. The rest tightened their circle, like hyenas crowding a wounded zebra. Anger and lust from his skin teased her nostrils.
Their smell and movements telegraphed their intentions. As a group, they moved, boxing her in. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No one to come to her rescue.
They would throw her against the wall. She would reel, stunned. The boys would start off with a little light brutality, moving on to rape. They needed to recover face from their earlier defeat.Stay tuned for next week for how my character Valerie Tate handled this!
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| I loved this little fountain, tucked away in the property where the bride and groom stayed. |
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| Overlooking the beach. |
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| Sneaking away to clamber the cliffs. |
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| Doing my best world traveler face. |
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| Spring on the Harbor. |
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| Girl, that coat rules! |
I’m from a rural community in southern Ontario, Canada called Flamborough. I turned 60 on my last birthday. I’ve been married for 42 years to my High School sweetheart. We’re parents, grandparents of 6, and great-grandparents of 2. Cool? I think the fact that I had to retire from work when I had open heart surgery at the age of 48, and then went on to live my dream of becoming a published author is as cool as it gets. Some days, I have to pinch myself!2. How did you know you wanted to write?
I began to write when I was around 8 or 9. Picking up a pen was just something that came naturally to me. My father passed away when I was 7 and it wasn’t until much later that I learned that he, when he’d been younger, had always, always had a pad of paper and a pencil in his pocket, as he was a writer, too. In fact, I discovered not that many years ago, that my brother had a few of his poems and stories tucked away. So I guess you could say that for me, writing is in the blood.
4. Tell me some of your current projects- Your works in progress, ideas, or any crazy, off the wall things.I remind myself, on those rare days when I don’t feel like writing but I know I must, that there are readers waiting to read my next book. Just lately, I only have to turn my head to the left to see a picture—my street team sent me an enormous picture frame with their photos pasted inside it. All those beautiful smiling women who treasure my books! Can you imagine it? That’s reason enough for any writer to get back to work.
The Lusty Texas series began with two historical novels, set in Texas in the 1880s. The series then jumped to contemporary times, as the heroes and heroines, descendants of the characters in the historical novels, clamored to have their stories told. Some people would say that having a series that already expands beyond 24 books is crazy! My December 2014 release, Love Under Two Outcasts was book 24 in the series; the next one, A Very Lusty New Year, released January 23rd was the 25th book in the series. And as I am writing this in January, I can tell you that I am working on Love Under Two Extroverts, book 26, and I expect a late March release date for it.
I write erotic romantic fiction. Some, under my pen name Morgan Ashbury, but lately, as Cara Covington. My stories are entertainment, mostly—a place for readers to escape from their every day trials and tribulations. A place they can visit and bask in my ideal of small town life. Where your neighbors care about you, and where you soon find that you belong.Within the pages of a Lusty, Texas book, you may find a few hugs for your heart – that was the way one reader described my stories, and nothing has ever touched me as deeply as that.
I’m afraid I don’t have any exciting hobbies; I’m limited, mobility-wise, but my husband and I have traveled a great deal throughout North America over the last few years. We’ve been on several cruises, as well as having visited some vastly different cities from New York to Dallas, Chicago to New Orleans, to Anaheim and Orlando and Daytona Beach.
I love to read, of course, and some of my favorite authors are also friends: Heather Rainier, D. B. Reynolds, Emma Wildes, and Kelley Armstrong to name a few. I also love to read Nora Roberts/J D Robb, Julie Garwood, Catherine Coulter, Barbara Delinsky and Linda Howard. I have 2 surviving children, 6 surviving grand-children and 2 great-grandchildren. Life in the Ashbury household can be very hectic. We have a cat who adopted us and has graciously allowed us to stay in the house, and a Morky dog who is most definitely a spoiled little fur baby.
My advice to my fellow authors: if you are not yet published, do not quit. If you want it bad enough, keep working at it and do not quit. Just write and write and write some more. Believe in yourself; make your craft excellent; and you will get published. If you are published, I have a word of advice for you, too—because I’m 60, you see, and feel entitled to give a bit of that prickly commodity now and again.
Please, remember that once you put it out there on the web, it is there, forever. So try to remember that whatever you do, your readers are watching you. Be the best you that you can be.
The sound of high heels on the marble floor echoed in the reception area. Jesse realized belatedly the feminine footsteps were coming their way.“Gentlemen, I apologize for keeping you waiting.”Jesse knew the voice from the two telephone conversations he’d had with the doctor. He looked up—and had the surreal sensation that in that instant, with that simple tilt of his head, his entire life had just changed. One quick glance over at Barry, and he knew his twin was experiencing his own personal epiphany.Jesse got to his feet, his gaze taking in her piled high blonde hair, soft grey eyes, and the way her beige silk blouse and trim brown skirt displayed her made-for-sin body.He met her gaze, pleased when he read in hers that he and his brother weren’t the only ones to get gob smacked with a flood of pheromones.She’d extended her hand and Jesse wasted no time in clasping it in his. The zing of electricity shot straight to his groin, and it took supreme will to keep his wood from tenting his jeans.“I’m Jesse. And you have no need to apologize, ma’am. We’re here at your service.” He saw the double entendre hit its mark and liked the humor he read in her eyes.And then he appreciated her ability to give as well as she got, when she said, “Well in that case, please follow me to someplace a little more private.”
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| Darla's sweet and smart short story |
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| Funky color green |
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| Visiting Amsterdam |
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| Visiting the Louvre! |
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| I still can't believe I went to Istanbul!! |
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| The best adventure of all: The Charming Man. |
Every so often, I like revisiting my books and choosing lines that I particularly like. Here are some from Vamping It Up.
I am participating in Baby Shoes: Celebrating Flash Fiction. And we have a Kickstarter!
We're looking for $1,800 to fully fund an e-book release. |
| The dude even does push-ups for charity. |
Any philanthropist knows that the more money she gives, the more she’ll get back; any volunteer knows that hour spent in a good cause give us golden time. We all know, at some level, that stinginess doesn’t work.
If you start giving away what you want, you give the universe a nudge – you get the cosmic Jell-O trembling.
So what are you waiting for? The best part of the literary and creative life is giving away what you most want.If you feel you don’t have enough love in your life (no writer, art6ist, human being can exist without love), don’t go around trying to steal it at low bars from impressionable young men and women: Try giving it away, in a blaze of affection, compliments and hugs. Start with your musty old grandma, your lumpy wife, your doltish dad: hugs and compliments- because you have so much love in your bank that you can afford to give it away, lavishly and recklessly.
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In Tatum Wood’s opinion, murdering her boss on a daily basis within the safety of her thoughts is better than therapy. Until he takes a swan dive off a building and all evidence points to her. Thank goodness she has Franklin Reed. Her mysterious, overprotective and drop-dead gorgeous coworker is all too eager to play hero. With two attacks in her building and her stalker with a penchant for roses, Franklin’s injection into her life couldn’t have come at a better time.
As Tatum and Franklin scramble to discover who’s behind the murder, secrets are unearthed that question his motives...as well as his identity.
“Who are you?” I swiveled to face him.
His grim expression softened. Barely. “You know who I am.”
“Who are you?” I asked again, more a demand than a question.
“The man who keeps saving your ass.” He looked my way, and I got my first glance at his face. The skin surrounding his eye boasted several shades of purple and blue. His nose definitely didn’t look right, and three large scratches stretched from his left eye to below his cheekbone. Not bad for my first shot at kicking someone’s ass. Instinct urged me to reach over and offer comfort. I tucked my hand under my leg to keep it from such betrayal.
“Why were men shooting at you?” I asked, unable to cloak the seething anger in my tone.
“They weren’t.”
“Now you’re not making sense.”
“You have to trust me.”
“How in the world can you ask me to do that? Why is there a collage of me on your wall?”
Franklin’s lips drew into a tight line. The muscles in his jaw protruded.
“Classified?” I asked, fed up with the way the conversation was going.
“Yes.”
My pressure gage blew. I buried my face in my hands and screamed. “Take me back to the police station. I can’t be near you. I’d rather rot in a cell.”
"I’m afraid I can’t do that.” His voice remained calm.
I pulled on the door handle. “I’ll jump out if you don’t start talking. Why were men shooting at you?”
“They weren’t aiming for me, Killer. You were the target.”
