Today on KMN Books, she's here to chat about her new release and the behind the scene adventure of creating her exciting tale! Enjoy!
Islands for Sale, Cheap by
Writing Her Wild Protector was a lot of fun
because I got to do a whole bunch of research. Fun research. Tara and Marshall
go to an island in the Bahamas and I had to figure out which one. If you're like
me, when you hear Bahamas, you think of Nassau, Freeport, maybe Abaco. There are
actually a lot of small islands in the area and you can buy one. Yes! Your very
own island. Think of what you could do with that.
Some of them come complete with
building, marinas, docks, electricity, rainwater and septic tanks, everything
you need to start your vacation in paradise. Some of them only come with a
beach, vegetation and a beautiful view. Your choice, depending on your budget.
Start buying those lottery tickets now!
After many (too many!) enjoyable
hours perusing the real estate pages, I finally picked out my island, Pierre Island. I changed the name because,
well, it's my book and I can do that. It was great to have this visual image as
I wrote, though of course I altered a few things to fit the story. Now, I had to
get my hero and heroine there.
Luckily, one of the women in my RWA group knows
all about small airplanes and reminded me, my people couldn't just hop on a jet
and fly into the local airport. Only certain islands in the Bahamas have
airports and they can't all accommodate large planes. Then I did more research
on boats and aircraft, which is the subject of another blog post.
If you have a few minutes, find a
website with islands for sale and look around. It's always fun to dream!
Enjoy this excerpt from Her Wild Protector. It will be out March 3rd as part of the Paranormal and Urban Fantasy Box set from HarlequinE, at a great price! Visit my website for updated buy links, and thank you for reading: http://www.naomibellina.com/
The boat finally pulled up to a scruffy-looking dock and Tara scrambled out of the craft, never so happy to see dry land in her life. She was so delighted to be standing on firm ground she paid little notice as Marshall hauled their luggage out of the boat and the vessel departed.
When the sound of the motor totally receded, the sudden stillness snapped her to attention.
Island fever set in. Tara had the overwhelming desire to jump up and scream for that demon boat to come back and get her. She would happily vomit all day to return to civilization.
Marshall peered at her over his sunglasses. “You look a little green. Are you still seasick?”
“I’m better. There isn’t a boat anywhere here, on the island?”
“No, there is no boat.”
“What if something happens and we need to leave suddenly?”
“I can call and a vessel will be here quickly. We’re perfectly safe. We have food, water, electricity and internet access. What are you so worried about?” He grabbed his suitcase and started walking.
Tara gripped her own and rolled it along the uneven path. “I don’t know you, I don’t know who or what this so-called government agency is and I don’t appreciate being dragged from my home to come here.”
Tara wasn’t a whiner and generally despised people who did, but right now she didn’t care. If Marshall thought she was going to be a quiet, passive girl who did whatever he told her to, he had another think coming.
They reached the first house and Marshall led them to the kitchen. He rolled his bag to a corner, then made a call from the phone on the wall.
“We’re here,” he announced to whoever was on the other end, then hung up. He took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead.
“What are you doing?” he asked her. Tara had plopped her suitcase on the floor and was frantically digging.
“I need to brush my teeth. Now.”
“Bathroom’s down that hall,” Marshall said, pointing the way.
She located her toothbrush and paste and gave her mouth a vigorous scrub. Better. Her oral hygiene complete, Tara went into the small living room and took a look around. The couch, loveseat and easy chair looked old but comfortable. There was a television and stereo, a bookcase, a small desk and a few nondescript pictures. Several shells and other knickknacks decorated the room but otherwise it looked as impersonal as a hotel suite. She plunked down into the chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Can I at least call someone and tell them where I am?” Her bout of nausea had left her cranky. Marshall sat at the desk, his laptop open. He turned toward her.
“Tara, I don’t think you’ve grasped the gravity of this situation. No, you can’t tell anyone where you are, you have to keep hidden and you have to stay with me. I’m your best shot at staying alive. If we don’t figure out how you’re able to see the Metamorphs’ other forms and reverse that process, the rogues will keep coming after you until you’re dead. Your life is in danger. What proof do you need besides being attacked by a vicious cat?”
“I’d like to meet someone else from DOSA. Someone normal.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, Tara regretted them. Marshall said nothing, but his jaw tightened and his lips compressed.
“Dr. Freeman will be here shortly to examine you. Will that suffice?” His tone was cold as an arctic breeze.
“I don’t like having my fate in someone else’s hands. I prefer to make my own decisions and I’m tired of you bossing me around.”
“And you know what? I’m tired of being your babysitter. I should be out hunting for Denzel. I could find him and convince him that if he doesn’t back off and keep the other rogues off our backs, we’ll make sure he never sees a dime of the money he’s supposed to get. Instead, I’m stuck keeping track of you and hiding out on this island.”
“Then just take me home and go find that big cat.”
“Those are not my orders. Besides, do you really want to go back to your apartment? Have another rogue break down your door?” Marshall rose and he went into the kitchen. He opened then slammed the refrigerator door closed.
“I wasn’t going to go to my house. I can stay at a hotel.” Her voice quivered, much to her disgust. Tara had really had enough of this arrogant man and his condescending attitude. She was tired, scared, and the thought of someone babysitting her was just too insulting.
“For how long? I know your funds are limited. What, you’re shocked we’re aware of this? I know you made a bad investment..." he began.
She leapt to her feet. That was the last straw.
"No, I didn't make a bad investment, my husband did. I made a bad decision, trusting him."
Marshall turned to her and his expression softened slightly. Maybe he could tell she was at the end of her rope. "We know a lot about you and so do the rogues. They'll find you wherever you are. This is where you'll be the safest and it's not the worst place in the world to spend time. Try to trust me, just a little bit. "
She stood glaring at him, her hands in fists. Anger and shame filled her heart, as it did whenever she thought about her last days with Karl. He'd assured her that the deli he wanted to sink money into was a winning proposition. The woman he'd partnered with knew what she was doing, he promised. But within six months all their money was gone and the creditors were knocking at the door.
Tara could have forgiven Karl for that. Everyone makes mistakes. What she could not overlook was coming home sick from work one day and finding her husband in bed with his ex-partner.
Tara had left him. The asshole had never even apologized, declaring the affair was her fault because she had been such a ball-buster and did not give him enough support. He'd carried the pathetic routine all through the divorce proceedings, and although they had little property left to fight over at that point, he'd ended up with most of it.
Trust him indeed. It would be a long while before she trusted any man again.
“Come on, I’ll show you to your bedroom. I need to work on the computer for a while, but then you can use it, if you’d like, as long as you don’t send out personal information. We have television and plenty of books here. Dr. Freeman will be along in a few hours.”
As soon as Tara saw the bed, an overwhelming desire to lie down washed over her. The sheets smelled freshly laundered, even from across the room. A light breeze blew through the open window and somewhere in the distance a bird chirped. She rolled her suitcase to a corner and let it fall with a thump.
“I think I’d like to take a nap,” she said.
“That’s a good idea. You know where the bathroom is, if you need to use it. There are towels on the shelf. Help yourself to anything else you need. You saw where the kitchen is located.” Marshall turned to leave. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I know you didn’t ask to be put in this situation,” he said, his back to her. “I appreciate you working with me.” He closed the door gently behind him, and Tara’s last thought before sleep claimed her was that the view of her protector was as nice from the back as it was from the front.
About the Author: Naomi Bellina
Naomi lives in beautiful sunny Florida with the love of her life and a magical calico cat. She writes for various fiction and non-fiction markets, but finds she is drawn to romance because her characters insist on canoodling, and sometimes even falling madly in love. So she lets them. Occasionally, however, they go to dark and strange places. She lets them do this also. Most of her stories will surprise readers with unexpected twists and turns, because isn't that what makes life exciting?
Her interests include dancing, hula-hooping, drumming, and creating healthy meals. She takes the opportunity to play, have fun, and indulge in the pursuit of passion whenever possible. She hopes you enjoy her stories and would love to hear from you at naomibellina(at)live(dot)com.
Her motto: Never pass up the opportunity to have an adventure!
Provocative tales of love, lust, passion and magic