TAMMY FAULKNER—A LONE WOMAN IN A SEA OF TESTOSTERONE

My guest is romance author, Tammy Faulkner. For those who may not recognize the name—yet, she's part of the dynamic writing duo known as Lydia Dare. 

Tammy is here, today, to share her magically sinful fairy tale of a fae who's mission is to save the Duke of Robinsworth by improving his attitude, among other things. It's a sassy tale complete with mayhem and a wicked grandmother—not quite the same sort of wicked you would associate with fairy tales, but definitely shocking. Well, at least to the ton. *giggle* A woman, I mean Fae, after me own heart. And then there is Ronald...   

So how does an author, who has a houseful of rough and tumble males and has a touch-me-not attitude, manage to write such wonderful happily ever after stories? It's a mystery. *grin* I love mysteries and Tammy's latest story!

I am a lone woman in a sea of testosterone. That sounds like a book in the making, doesn't it? If you know me, you know that I am a mom of boys.  There’s not a girl in sight at my house, aside from the dogs and they don’t really count because they will often side with the boys over me, mainly because the boys drop more food than I do when they’re eating.  It’s a fact of life.  He who is the messiest eater is loved the most by the dogs.  Go figure.

I think this sea of manliness and me being adrift in it is one of the many reasons I write romance.  Don’t get me wrong—I love nothing quite as much as sitting on the bleachers during a football game and watching boys pound one another into submission.  Or rooting from the edges of a gymnastics competition for my youngest son as he flips and twirls and does amazing things with his body that I could never even dream of.  But in the midst of all this manliness is still… me.  And I’m a female.  I believe in the happily ever after. I believe in love and romance and that little quiver in your stomach when you see the person you love and you didn't expect him or her to be there.  (And I still have that little feeling even after twenty years with my husband.)

I got honored by my lovey dovey friend the other day with one of those “I’m thinking about you,” posts today on Facebook.  She’s famous for them, and I always give her a hard time when she posts them for her brother and sisters.  By “hard time” I mean that I interrupt their love fests with my own e-hacking and e-puking emoticons.  Her love posts are always something wonderful and glowing, like her own little bit of sunshine she’s spreading around the world.  My own sister would fall out on the floor, either laughing like crazy or with dead shock if I ever posted such a thing on her page.  With all my romance novels and all my own ways of sharing love with the masses, I am not a very affectionate person.  My family calls me the touch-me-not because I am sort of one of those “don’t slobber on me” people when someone tries to hug me. 

I am a little envious of the hug-givers—they seem like they are so welcoming and so full of sunshine.  Yet I can’t always make myself hug them back.  My blank stare turns into something akin to panic and then my hand shoots out to shake with them instead.  Then I feel bad.

I write romance novels because I believe in the happily-ever-after.  But you won’t often catch me being one of those lovey-dovey sorts of people.  I wish sometimes that I could do it.  But it’s just not me. 

However, I think I’m going to go try to post some love on my sister’s Facebook page and see how it goes. She’ll either be really touched by it and say awwwww.  Or she’ll fall out laughing.  I will admit that my friend’s lovey dovey post did make me feel kind of warm and fuzzy for a bit so maybe there’s something to it.  I’m going to test it out and see.

• How about you?  Do you practice random acts of kindness?  
• Do you share lovely little thoughts for your friends in public?  
• Or do you just go around hugging everybody?

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A LADY AND HER MAGIC Tammy Falkner

Rules Are Made to be Disobeyed...

Sophia Thorne is new to the Regency's glittering high society, which resembles her magical homeland only insofar as both places are filled with ridiculous rules. Which means no matter where she goes, she's bound for trouble...

And Scandals Are Meant to be Shocking...

The Duke of Robinsworth has flaunted and shocked society for years. In a moment of fateful mischief, Robinsworth encounters the enchanting and distinctly scandalous Sophia. Between her streak of magical mischief and his penchant for scandal, they're about to take rule-breaking to a whole new level...EXCERPT

Do click on the cover. It enlarges and I love the cover art!

As half of the Lydia Dare writing team, Tammy Falkner has co-written ten books, including A Certain Wolfish Charm and In the Heat of the Bite. A huge fan of Regency England, her new series explores the theory that the fae can walk between the glittering world of the ton and their own land. Tammy lives on a farm in rural North Carolina with her husband and a house full of boys, a few dogs, and a cat or two.

For more information, please visit http://www.tammyfalkner.com and follow her on Twitter, @TFalkner.

A LOVER OF ALL THINGS SCOT—VICTORIA ROBERTS

wikicommons . 

My guest is historical author Victoria Roberts. She’s a lover of all things Scot. A bonny lassie after me own heart! 

I was able to pull her head out of the highlands, and the cloud of midges, long enough to answer a few questions, and apply soothing balm for the midge bites and some fine coffee to wash away the ones she might have inadvertently breathed in… 

Victoria, welcome to Over Coffee. That’s quite a story you wrote and I have to say, I love your two main characters!

Thank you for having me. It’s great to be here.

• Did you try other genres before you hit with this one?

No. It’s funny you ask that because over a year ago I sat down with one of my male friends and told him I write Scottish historical romances. Contrary to what one might think, he was actually pretty interested and asked me the same question. I was curious why he asked me that and this was his response. 

"I admire you for knowing what you want and going after it. You didn't play around with writing another genre in the hopes someone would notice you." I had never really thought of it that way, but I guess that would be true.

• Why this genre instead of another?

As soon as I picked up my first Scottish historical, I recognized this is where my path led. In reality, that’s when Temptation in a Kilt was born. But don’t get me wrong. I love reading other genres such as paranormal, regency, urban-fantasy, etc. It just so happens to be that Scottish historical romance is where my heart lies. And as long as I still have stories to be told, this is the genre where I’ll be—well, as long as the readers keep enjoying my wee Scottish tales.

• What excites you about this genre?

How much time do we have? *checking watch*

It all starts with Scotland. The bonny glens, lochs, heather, castles, history, clans, Highlanders, men in kilts—yep, I could go on and on and on. My family will tell you the same. With a country so rich in history, Scotland is the perfect backdrop for a historical romance. Throw in an alpha-Highland laird and a feisty lass and the possibilities are endless.

  

Now whether Scotland’s political past adds to the drama of writing this genre or the never-ending battles between the clans, there is definitely something for everyone. Don’t you agree?

Vickie, thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to answer my questions. I wish you the best with this series!

Thank you so much for having me here today. Great questions!

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Temptation In A Kilt

She’s on her way to safety...

It’s a sign of Lady Rosalia Armstrong’s desperation that she’s seeking refuge in a place as rugged and challenging the Scottish Highlands. She doesn't care about hardship and discomfort, if only she can become master of her own life. Laird Ciaran MacGregor, however, is completely beyond her control…

He redefines dangerous…

Ciaran MacGregor knows it’s perilous to get

embroiled with a fiery Lowland lass, especially one as

headstrong as Rosalia. Having made a rash promise

to escort her all the way to Glengarry, now he’s stuck

with her, even though she challenges his legendary

prowess at every opportunity. When temptation

reaches its peak, he’ll be ready to show her who he

really is…on and off the battlefield. First Chapter Excerpt on Amazon Book Trailer

Victoria lives in western Pennsylvania with her husband of nineteen years and their two beautiful children—not to mention one spoiled dog. When she is not plotting her next Scottish romp, she enjoys reading, nature and antiques.

Victoria Roberts writes sexy, Scottish historical romances about kilted heroes and warriors from the past. 

You can find her: Facebook, Goodreads, Website 

MONDAY MUSINGS: OVERCOMING THE GLITCHES AND TEARS—ROBIN MAXWELL

Photo:Atlas Remix

When I was a kid, Saturday morning television was a treat for my siblings and I. Cartoons and then Tarzan. I loved Tarzan and his ability to live and talk with all the animals of the jungle and he had absolutely the coolest tree house (recreating that house encompassed hours of time and effort on the part of my brothers and I—complete with ropes to swing on)! I wanted to be Jane. What life to live. 

It's my pleasure to have bestselling historical fiction author, Robin Maxwell, visiting with us today. She has written a fabulous story about Tarzan's mate, Jane Porter— who better to write Jane's story than an novelist who writes historical fiction? This story is told from Jane's point of view. Jane is a highly educated woman of her time (Edwardian) and from a sheltered position of wealth and yet she chooses to leave all that behind and become Tarzan's mate.  

It’s rare to be asked about the glitches and tears of this writer’s life, but I’m glad you asked.

I’ve had so many laughs over the years with my loved ones.  It’s necessary condition of friendship. My husband, Max Thomas, is one of the silliest men alive. But the glitches and tears, in my case, were whoppers.  2006 was “The Year From Hell” (I didn’t know there’d be four more in a row after that to rival it).

I’d just gotten a deal with NAL/Penguin to write SIGNORA DA VINCI, and had just begun extensive research into the Italian Renaissance (my past five novels had taken place in Tudor and Elizabethan England and Ireland, so I was in completely new territory, with dozens of research books piled high around me.  In January my mother, Skippy (from whom I inherited my sense of humor) who was living with Max and me – was taken by cancer.  She’d been not only a wonderful mom, but my first and greatest champion as a writer.  Never once did I hear from her: “Get a REAL job.”

There’s nothing quite like your mother dying, but I found some solace in creating a new world in my head and on the page with Leonardo da Vinci, his mother Caterina, the movers and shakers of Florence and their heretical secrets: what I called the “Shadow Renaissance.”  But the next blow was imminent.  My best girlfriend and comedy screenwriting partner of thirty years (with whom I shared some of the best laughs of my life) who lived down the country road from me in our remote high desert town, moved halfway around the world – back to her native Australia. 

It was a hot July day.  I’d just begun getting over that double-whammy, and enjoyed my first conversation with SIGNORA DA VINCI’s wonderful editor, Kara Cesare.  It was a long, leisurely talk about the characters and the period, and I felt so lucky to have a simpatico editor.  Half an hour after we hung up, a wind-driven wildfire roared down from the mountains above our property.  When a helicopter dropped a load of water on our house (while Max and I were still inside – our only evacuation order!) we knew we had to get out immediately. Max and our Doberman got in one car as black and orange smoke descended.  The two parrots were with me in a second.  I barely had time to go back and rescue a clothes hamper full of my research books from a house I knew would be toast within minutes. With Max in the lead we made a run for it through smoke so thick I could barely see my hood ornament, down our narrow dirt half-mile long driveway.   Suddenly Max stopped short.  Behind him I stopped, too.  Before us was a wall of flames so high we could not see the top…and it spanned the entire width of the driveway.

Surrounded by fire, we couldn’t get out of our cars to confer, and we couldn’t turn around.  My worst nightmare has always been burning to death in a flaming car wreck.  Our usually talkative 35-year-old African Grey parrot, Mr. Grey (the Jerry Seinfeld of birds who never stopped talking and was another constant source of laughter) who was sitting in the seat next to me, was completely silent.  Then with horrified amazement I watched Max’s car disappear through the wall of fire.  I was stock still.  What should I do?!  I couldn’t turn back.  I couldn’t stay where I was.  All I knew was that I trusted Max’s instincts.  I trusted him with my life.  So I took a deep breath and gunned it. 

It turned out there was not one wall of flames.  There were three!  In one of them my car started stalling out (no oxygen in the engine), but I floored it and sped out the other side, nearly crashing into the back of Max’s car waiting for me there.  But we were not clear of danger yet.  Once on the main road there were neighbors in their cars barrelling out of their driveways, and a poor doomed horse running by…on fire.  I later learned that Max’s car had tried to stall not once, but three times during our escape.

While we made it out alive, our nearest neighbor and his dog were killed.  Eighty square miles were toast.  Our home and a few trees around it were saved by the water drops.  But our once-beautiful high desert paradise looked like a moonscape, and it was a wildlife graveyard. 

A few months later, our darling fourteen year-old Doberman, Shiva, left this world.  Soon after that, Max underwent bi-lateral knee replacement surgery and rehab.  The following year Mr. Grey, after seven surgeries, died.  The next year his gorgeous, cuddle-bucket wife of 25 years, Cookie the Cockatoo, followed him.  But the Grim Reaper was not done with us. In 2010 my stepdaughter, mother of four, grandmother of seven, passed away. 

Max and I both suffered from post traumatic stress disorder for three years from that moment in which we were a single piston-stroke away from being burned alive.  Strangely, during those five years I wrote three novels, each of them helping me get through the worst of my depression and anxiety.  Sitting down to write felt like sinking into a warm bath.  And it was an escape into fabulous worlds as well.  Never did I appreciation the strength of my creative life and its ability to heal me.

Now, six years later, our wilderness property has come back to its former glory.  Max became my research assistant, story partner and first editor on JANE: The Woman Who Loved Tarzan, and we have never been healthier or happier.

BUY: AMAZON, B&N, INDIEBOUND

Cambridge, England, 1905. Jane Porter is hardly a typical woman of her time. The only female student in Cambridge University’s medical program, she is far more comfortable in a lab coat dissecting corpses than she is in a corset and gown sipping afternoon tea. A budding paleoanthropologist, Jane dreams of traveling the globe in search of fossils that will prove the evolutionary theories of her scientific hero, Charles Darwin.

When dashing American explorer Ral Conrath invites Jane and her father to join an expedition deep into West Africa, she can hardly believe her luck. Africa is every bit as exotic and fascinating as she has always imagined, but Jane quickly learns that the lush jungle is full of secrets—and so is Ral Conrath. When danger strikes, Jane finds her hero, the key to humanity’s past, and an all-consuming love in one extraordinary man: Tarzan of the Apes. 

EXCERPT (ON AMAZON)

I’m about to launch my “Book Club Weekend Getaways” at our beautiful high desert wildlife sanctuary.  Please visit me at www.robinmaxwell.com and www.HighDesertEden.com. 

Bestselling author and screenwriter Robin Maxwell often wonders how growing up a suburban New Jersey girl, an education at Tufts University as an occupational therapist, stints as a music business secretary, parrot tamer, casting director, dozens of Hollywood script development deals and marriage to yoga master Max Thomas prepared her for a career in writing.  After fifteen years and eight novels of historical fiction, including Signora da Vinci and The Secret Diary of Anne Boleyn (now in its twenty-fourth printing) she is preparing to jump genres with the publication of JANE: The Woman Who Loved Tarzan (Tor Books, September 18).  The first Tarzan classic in a century written by a woman and told through the eyes of the ape-man’s beloved Jane Porter, JANE is enthusiastically supported and authorized by the estate of Edgar Rice Burroughs.

You can find Robin on FACEBOOK, TWITTER, and WEBSITE.