I'm so thrilled to host author H K Carlton here for my very first guest blog! She's here to share an excerpt from her new book, Lost Time, as well as her experience in becoming an author. Read on to see how Lost Time turned from inspiration to publication...
For an author, storylines, ideas and inspiration are everywhere. They can spring from a feeling, a dream, the news, the weather, a photograph that stirs some emotion, a scent, a song, an experience, some hot guy or girl, walking down the street…the sources are boundless; endless.
Now I haven’t been at this published author thing very long but I have found there are two questions that authors are asked frequently. Do you write about your own experiences and do you base your characters off people you know?
It’s different for every story; just as diverse as an author’s inspiration.
A couple of years ago a very close friend of mine went on an extended vacation. Mainly to visit family and touch base with old friends that she’d left behind when she’d moved to Canada over twenty years ago. But she was also going to hit some spots that were of interest to her. On her itinerary was Scotland. I was extremely envious. I have always wanted to go there—because I, for one, believe I was abducted from Scotland at birth and have been trying to return my entire life. (Be quiet, Mum, no one was speaking to you, I know where I came from.) Geesh! ANYway, when my friend returned, she came back with, not only a figurine of William Wallace—and no, he does not resemble Mel Gibson at all—for her everything-Scottish-loving friend (moi). She also came back with a tale in misadventure that at the time, I just thought was hilarious and was thankful it hadn’t happened to me.
Fast forward 2012, I was just finishing up final edits for my first publication with Total-E-Bound, Swap and my fabulous editor mentioned to our author group, that we still had time to submit a story for TEB’s Halloween call, for the Haunted by You Series. So, still new to this writing thing, I thought maybe I could submit something. To that point, I’d only written my own stories, whatever came into my head and figured out what genre it fit into after. This was the first time that I tried to come up with one that had a general direction at the onset.
I sat down to write and of course, I began with my dream destination. Any guesses? And had the general idea for our heroine. I was going to flagrantly embellish a vacation from hell and sex it up the nth degree. But I needed a hero.
But who and what’s his story?
So, in that place in my mind where tall dark and handsome Highlanders dwell— and yes, there are many—Lockhart Munro came strutting forward, easy-going, arrogant and drop dead gorgeous to boot. He had me hooked, I couldn’t make my stubby little fingers type fast enough and Lost Time was born.
I didn’t end up submitting Lost Time for my publisher’s ghostly call. It had a word limit and well for those of you, who know me, you’ve probably heard this before, I’m kinda wordy (and repetitive, it would seem). I submitted it as a stand-alone and it was accepted. Yay! Thanks again, TEB! But true to form, not what it started out as.
Therefore, to answer the aforementioned frequently asked question, yes, sometimes, we as authors, have been known to incorporate a little truth in our work, or someone else’s experience or from time to time, throw in a little of ourselves.
I’ll always have a special fondness for Lost Time. It was one of those pleasure-to-write stories that can seem, at times, few and far between.
A special thank you to my wonderful host Noelle for having me as her guest today.
H K will be giving away a copy of Lost Time so leave a comment and an e-mail address and a winner will be chosen at random.
Lost Time Blurb:Within this frame, his curse is time…
Hannah Keys thinks she’s setting off on the trip of her dreams, but after one mishap after another—beginning with her best friend abandoning her in the airport and ending with the man of her dreams dead—she’s renaming it the vacation from hell.
When Hannah Keys discovers a four-hundred-year-old portrait in Wales, she is intrigued and somewhat saddened by the handsome Highlander portrayed by the artist’s masterful, lifelike strokes. But when she runs into the majorly hunky model for the painting—in the flesh, in the middle of the night—she learns first-hand all about masterful strokes when she shares a night of medieval passion with him.
Lockhart Munro has been cursed inside the portrait until he meets Hannah Keys. For four hundred years, no one has heard him or seen him, let alone touched him. The one woman who can do all these things may be the key to his long-awaited freedom.
But if Hannah sets Lockhart free from his prison, will she be cursed to spend the rest of her lifetime without him?
Or perhaps freeing Lockhart will be just the beginning…
Hannah stared up at him and admired his chiselled features. He was so handsome that he didn’t seem real. How could anyone be so heavenly?
“You are lookin’ at me like that again.” His mouth curved cockily. “I am—what did ya say?—gorgeous.”
“And arrogant too,” Hannah retorted, sitting up to take a sip of the orange juice. He ran a finger over the blue maple leaf on her right wrist. She kept her left hand over the sheet, keeping herself covered. “Ahh, that’s good. Thank you. It feels so good on my throat.”
“You ink your skin,” he commented.
“So do you,” she said.
“Where I come from this is another thing women do not do.”
“Where do you come from, Caveman?” she teased.
He ignored her question, staring at her bare shoulders, his eyes warming by degrees. He traced his index finger from just under her ear, softly following the column of her throat, over her shoulder, causing goosebumps to skitter over her skin.
“I would have liked to have removed that garment from you.” His husky voice went right through her. His speech was somewhat formal, she noted, wondering where it was that he came from, but she didn’t ask again. Not yet. She liked this air of anonymity. It was exhilarating and felt somehow naughty.
She smiled. “We have time, yeah?” she asked, using his line from earlier, hoping that he too wanted to spend more time with her. They’d have time to talk and get to know one another when this sizzling sexual energy was not so raw.
“Aye, but I would not waste it,” he said, tugging the sheet from her grasp, exposing her breasts to him.
His gaze dropped, lingering on her tits. A ragged growl escaped his lips as he moved onto the bed, stalking her. He threw a big knee over her so that he straddled her legs. He placed big hands over her boobs and he cupped and plumped them just as she’d schooled him earlier in the night. She slid down the bed onto her back, coaxing him with her. She guided his jaw, persuading his warm lips back to hers. Hannah kissed him with utter abandon. She was feeling so reckless with this guy. It was crazy but at the same time such an aphrodisiac to be with a stranger. She’d never done this before—it made her bolder, and she kissed him all open-mouthed and unrefined, as he seemed to like it.
He was very vocal as his excitement grew, groaning and growling. Hannah worried that Gran or Jake might hear them. What kind of impression would that make? She was a guest in their home shagging…the help? Maybe he worked here for Gran, or maybe he was a family member? Which would be worse? Whoever he was, he was a guy she’d barely exchanged a few words with and knew absolutely nothing about except that he was Scottish, he liked to kiss like there was no tomorrow and that the women he dated apparently didn’t wear pretty undies or keep their privates well maintained. And he very much enjoyed slobbering over said privates.
He slid his mouth from hers and moved over her breasts. He went straight to her nipples, sucking and nipping her crudely. She tried moving around under him to make it better for herself but it wasn’t helping.
He raised his dark head and looked at her as if he knew he was not pleasing her, his dark orbs blazing desire. “You will show me what you like. I would pleasure my woman to pleasure myself.”
Hannah trembled as he called her his woman. No one had ever called her that.
“Okay, buster, you asked for it.” She not so gently coaxed him onto his back.
“Buster?” he questioned.
“Right, for now, I’m Lass and you’re Buster.” No names needed.
He gave her a slow, bemused nod.
She ignored him. “Can we get rid of these?” She ran a finger on the inside of his pants. “They are kind of in my way.” He untied the laces. She watched, fascinated by the fact that he had lace-up trousers at all—authentic-looking apparel just like he’d worn to pose for the portrait. Perhaps he worked at a Renaissance house or a medieval tourist attraction, she thought momentarily, trying to explain his clothing.
Then Hannah’s attention went straight to the impressive, mouth-watering bulge in those breeches, and all the questions she had didn’t seem to matter.
“Ya have a difficult time keepin’ your eye from there, yeah?” he teased her.
She felt the blush creep up her neck.
“I saw how your eyes lingered. Ya wondered, didn’t ya?” He pulled the tight-fitting material from his body. “I promise ya, lass, ya will not be disappointed,” he vowed arrogantly.
©Copyright H K Carlton 2013
Buy Link Lost Time Total-E-Bound http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=2002
Lost Time will be available at all other vendors February 25, 2013
H K’s Blog http://pickagenrealready.blogspot.ca
Swap (erotic contemporary romance)
You Found Me (Historical Romance)
Streetlight People (ménage) Available for Pre-order @Total-E-Bound February 25