Saturday, August 17, 2013

Does love at first sight exist? As a romance writer I firmly believe it does.

Love is an emotion that is probably the most important human feeling you will ever experience.

According to Sigmund Freud the study of love is left to the writer to depict but I believe it’s also up to the reader to envisage what that word means to them. Love is an emotion that has given us enjoyment since the beginning of mankind.

So what draws one person to another? I find this fascinating and one of my favorite things of all time is to people watch while having a cappuccino sitting  outside of my favorite coffee house  it’s amazing what you can see when you just sit there.

Watching two people, there actions, a touch, a caress, a kiss, a look…it’s so special

Chemistry…What is it? The need to see that one person over and over again.
It’s the ignite to a relationship, an animal attraction between two people, a hit over the head that has you seeing stars. When you think of that special someone you smile for no reason, your heartbeat races, your breath becomes faster and a sense of excitement sweeps through you like a tornado.

In my book ‘Her Passionate Protector’ Alex sees Lucy in a picture and is immediately attracted…he doesn’t know why, he just has to meet the woman who has captured his inner emotions.

The consensus says that men are more likely to fall in love at first sight because they are more visual than woman. I’m not sure that’s true, but for whatever reason it’s the most special feeling in the world.


When Lucy meets Alex the owner of the new company her cleaning business has just picked up a contract for, her hard won self preservation and quiet life flies out the window. Smoldering heat ignites every time Alex comes near her. He is confused by this independent, yet vulnerable woman and when her ex-husband returns, determined to hurt her, Alex fights for her life and their love. However the future that Alex foresees for them both has a very bumpy ride in store for them both.


“Come on. Let’s see how bad your dancing really is.”

Startled, Lucy had no choice but to follow, as he still had hold of her hand.

After a few moments of him groaning, she stifled a giggle.

“See? I told you I was bad.”

“You did, but I didn’t realize I would lose all feeling in my toes,” he murmured with amusement, his mouth close to her ear. “Hey let’s try it this way, I think perhaps it might be better if we don’t move very much, and then I can hopefully keep my toes from being totally annihilated.” His words had Lucy chuckling with I told you so.

His eyes narrowed at her glee “Stand still. Give me your hands.” He pulled both her arms around his neck, as he rested his on her tiny waist. Her heart almost leapt out of her chest as she felt his very manly body so very close to her own. Her eyes slowly moved up to meet his.

Looking down at her, he started to sway to the music, moving her body with his. Their feet barely moved as the feel of the music surrounded them. It was as if they were the only two people in the room, their eyes locked, neither one turning from the other as the pull of emotions joined their bodies almost as one.

Alex moved first and tilted his head down to whisper in her ear. His breath caressed her sensitive lobe.

“You fit perfectly now that you are not desecrating my feet.” His husky voice lowered almost to a baritone and had a scintillating amusing tone that made her smile.

But her stomach clenched and her whole body ached with something, she didn’t know what, the swell of emotion that cascaded through her was so unfamiliar.

Lowering her eyes back to his chest, she noticed his jacket emphasized the width of his broad shoulders. The white shirt hid the flatness of his stomach. Lucy inhaled the maleness of him, the musky scent of his aftershave.

Her fingers took on a life of their own as they threaded through his silky blond hair where it caressed the collar of his shirt. Lucy swallowed trying to lubricate her dry mouth. Her breathing quickened as those hands that had been resting on her waist moved to the small bone at the base of her spine, effectively moving her even closer. She could feel every muscle and line of his body against hers, every muscle, and one she wasn’t sure that she should be so close to.

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Saturday, July 6, 2013

THE STUFF OF DREAMS: Significance of Dreams in the Promise Me Series and other writings by Tara Fox Hall

Dreams play an important role in my various writings, influencing my short stories and novels. But they are most pervasive in my Promise Me Series. In this series, a dream is never “just a dream.” There is always some deeper meaning. Whole plot arcs revolve around dreams, with the one of the longest running plot arcs between the lovers Sar and Theo. This mortal woman and werecougar share a dream in Book #2 of the series, Broken Promise, which changes their relationship, pushing former reluctant friends to become lovers.
In Broken Promise, Theo and Sar also share a dream as a byproduct of a spell Terian cast. Meant to get Sar to reveal if she could ever come to love him, Terian shares the spell from his lips to Sar’s in a kiss. Instead of a HEA, though, Terian hears that Sar does not have any romantic feelings for him. Worse, Sar kisses Theo shortly after in the midst of a fight, and shares the spell with him. Prompted by the spell, Theo confesses a secret love he had kept hidden for Sar, though Sar herself rejects his advances. As a rare side effect of the spell, Theo and Sar make love in a dream that night. It is only months later that she learns that Theo experienced every moment of the dream with her.

After Theo goes missing in Book #3, Taken in the Night, Sar goes to Terian, asking him about the shared dream, and if she can use it to locate Theo:

“What do you want, Sar?” Terian said finally. “You didn’t come here to chat.”
He knew me too well. “I want a potion that will let me dream of Theo like I did before, so I’ll know if he’s alive.”
“I don’t know of one,” Terian replied. “Not one you can take by yourself to share his dreams, without any physical contact with him.”
“Is there anything magical that will let us know?” I persisted.
“Sar, most of the ones that deal in dreams can mess you up big time if you have a nightmare instead of a good dream—”
“Terian, it’s been months now. I can’t live like this any longer. I decide he’s gone, and then something comes along, and I’m so hopeful that I can’t eat or sleep. I can’t live like this any longer without knowing.”
“Well, you’re going to have to,” Terian said seriously. “I can’t tell you if Theo is alive. Sorcery is imperfect.” He touched my hand with his. “I can’t tell you the future Sar. If I could, I’d try to foresee mine.”

Later in the book, Terian relents, giving Sar a potion that will let her relive the dream she shared with Theo. But not only will Theo not be in this dream with her…once it fades, so will Sar’s memory of both the new dream…and her old one she shared with Theo, which till now had remained perfectly intact.

“You said you didn’t want to forget,” Terian said. “I can’t bring Theo back to you, Sar. But I can help you remember him.”
I eased myself down onto the stone bench, before I fell down. “What are you saying, Terian. What will this do to me?” I asked, fearful.
“You’ll relive the dream that Theo and you shared. It won’t be any different, just a replay of what you dreamed last time. But it will be as real as it was last time you dreamed it.”
To feel Theo again with me, loving me…I closed my eyes. If Terian had not been with me, I’d have downed it immediately. As it was, my hand brought it involuntarily to my lips.
Terian saw the look on my face, and grabbed my hand. “No, not tonight. Save this until you can’t remember the dream clearly anymore, until your memories of Theo are almost gone. I can’t do this for you again, not ever. This will use up the last of the bond between you and Theo, and he’s not here to renew it with you.”
“What are you saying?”
“When the dream is done a second time, it will start to fade immediately like a normal dream does. You may even wake up without remembering,” he finished sadly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said finally, wiping away tears. “Thank you, Terian.”

When Sar learns that Theo is not dead at the beginning of Book #4, Taken for His Own, she journeys west to find him, taking the vial along with her. When she finds that Theo has made a new start with another woman—a werecougar like he is—she takes the dream potion in an effort to forget Theo, figuring that after one last dream of him she will be able to let him go as the dream fades. But she neglects to remember Terian’s exact words of warning…and instead shares another dream of Theo…leading to him seeking her out in the waking world.

I cried a few tears, turned out the light and let my mind drift. Just as I was falling asleep, I remembered the potion. Terian had said the potion would recreate the dream with Theo, but that when it ended, the dream would fade from memory.
I needed to put my feelings for Theo to rest and let him get on with his life. It was time to be done with dreams and get back to reality.
I turned the light back on and got up, rummaging around in my duffel bag. I found it and spent a few minutes removing the vial from the bubble wrap I’d taped around it for safekeeping. I uncorked the top and drank. The taste was bitter. This was it, the end of him and me. I packed the empty potion vial for Terian for reuse, then lay down. I drifted in a sleep-sort of fog and finally begin to dream.
It was my home, my farm. Again, I stood there, calling out to Theo to wait, not to leave.
Again, he stood motionless at the door for a second and then he turned to me, riding me to the floor. Kissing me roughly, as we tore off our clothes as fast as we could.
Every memory came back in full force, sweeping me away in a storm of emotion. It washed away the years with Danial, even everything I felt for Elle and Theoron. There was only Theo and I. We were one.
Theo made love to me again and again. I relished his body next to mine, his muscles holding me, moving me, pleasuring me. Soreness set in as night fell, but I renewed my efforts, knowing that the end was near. As Theo finished and reached for me, I pushed him away.
“Sar?” he said questioningly, his eyes worried, his hand outstretched.
In a few seconds, Danial’s voice would sound. This was it, the end.
In desperation, I shouted, “Theo, I love you, I love you more than anything or anyone. I’ll love you the rest of my life!”
As my words tore out of me, Theo’s body flickered. Suddenly thin scars appeared on his shoulders from a whip, the edges raised and red, then similar scars on his chest. A mass of scar tissue bloomed whitely on his hip.
I lunged for his outstretched hand as he faded before me.
I fell out of the motel room bed, landing on the floor. The room reeked with the odor of lovemaking, the odor of sex.
“God damn it, no!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I’d fucked up badly. I’d forgotten Terian’s words to me the night he’d given me the potion, telling me about the dream it would create for me one last time.
“And he’s not here to renew it with you…”
Terian had said it, thinking as I did that Theo was dead. But Theo wasn’t dead, he was alive. I’d reached out and touched him again with another dream. Moreover, this time, he’d know immediately that what had happened was no regular dream. He’d come looking for me, remembering the scent he’d caught wind of a week ago.
God, I had to get gone as fast as I could!
I threw on some clothes and frantically gathered up my things. There was no time for a shower or food. We had to get moving!
I grabbed up my duffel and ran for the door, my keys in my hand. A footstep sounded outside my door and then the door was kicked open, flying back hard to slam the outer wall.
Theo stood there breathing hard, his eyes dark as a storm. He reeked of sex the way I did.
I hoped for his sake he’d woken up alone.

This shared dream in Broken Promise is meant to represent the bond between Sar and Theo. But the reasons for why they dreamed together, it’s real meaning for them both, and the consequences that result are not only complicated, but have far reaching results reaching all the way to the very end of the series. Stay tuned!

Blurb: After learning Theo is alive, Sar immediately embarks on a mission to find him. Reunited, the lovers return to New York; Danial, Terian and Theo uneasily combining forces to protect Sar from Al’s assassins still seeking her. But when Sar is taken prisoner in an all-out attack, only one man can save her: her old adversary, Devlin.

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Monday, February 25, 2013

Born to Write...or Born Not to "Not Write"

“How did you become a writer?” I’m sure this innocent question is among the top most frequently heard by those of us in the writing community. To be fair, it’s probably one of the most asked of people with “interesting” professions. The answer is even more interesting: most of us did not become--we were born writers.

This isn’t to say that nurses aren’t natural caregivers or teachers are not born to be educators. Everyone has a gift. A true writer cannot ‘not write’, no matter how hard he or she tries. Writers spring from the womb full of words, whether they’re spoken or only written. We see stories in everything, and are often the weird kids at school who always have our noses stuck in books, the ones who live for book reports because that means one more book that can be devoured.

Now, there is an argument that writers can be grown, and certainly, a person can be taught to write correctly. I’ve seen quite a few books and stories that had absolutely no grammatical errors or misspellings, yet they were missing the passion that drives the words of a writer. The stories had no soul. Conversely, I’ve read works where there were several mistakes to be found, but the story was so compelling and driven by heartfelt emotion that I kept reading. The words leapt from the page and demanded to be consumed.

So how does one know if he or she is a born writer? For starters, as I mentioned above, a true writer cannot stop writing. There are times when market shifts and rejection notes pile up and the only thought running through the writers’ head is, “I’m not doing this anymore.” And yet, on the celebratory walk to commemorate the decision to live a different life by throwing away all things writerly, he will spot a couple on a bench, read their expressions…and run home to write their story.

You’re probably a writer if most of your sentences begin with, “What if…” Your friends will always say you’re the person who thinks of the craziest scenarios and sees things they usually don’t see in situations and people.

If your children have grammatically correct, page long absence excuse notes, you’re probably a writer.

When you think of never earning a cent from your writing works, and yet you still continue to write, you’re probably a born wordsmith. Writers will write even when they’re not sure they have an audience.

If people often tell you your words move them, and you’re told you have a compelling way of speaking or writing, you could be a writer. Your way with words will stick with you and evolve as you do.

Most importantly, if you have ever completed a story or a novel or an article, memoir, etc., you are probably a writer. Most people who talk about writing do only just that. Because you’ve actually done it, you may want to pursue the words that come to you.

Once you’ve determined you were born to write, the easy part is done. The hardest part, and the part that will forge the steel of your writing ability is the part where you get down to writing. Writers write. Writers write a lot. If it’s your gift, then you’re charged with sharing it with others. You’re also responsible for nurturing the gift and making it even better.

What are you waiting for?