I am super excited to be a part of this event. If you've read any of the Dirty Blood series you will understand the serious fan-girling I did over my paired up author, Heather Hildenbrand. I seriously love this woman. And upon going back and forth with her on emails trying to get this spotlight on point for you all I heart her even more. Here's her quick Goodreads official bio:
Heather
Hildenbrand was born and raised in a
small town in northern Virginia where she was homeschooled through high school.
She now lives in coastal VA, a few miles from the Atlantic Ocean, with her two
adorable children. She works from home, part time, as a
property manager and when she's not furiously pounding at the keyboard, or
staring off into space whilst plotting a new story, she's lying on the beach,
soaking in those delicious, pre-cancerous rays.
Heather
loves Mexican food, hates socks with sandals, and if her house was on fire, the
one thing she'd grab is her DVR player.
Heather is a co-founder of Accendo
Press, a publishing group she operates with fellow authors: Angeline Kace and
Jennifer Sommersby. Accendo (a-CH-endo), A Latin word, means “to kindle,
illuminate, inflame, or set fire.” This is something Accendo strives to do
inside a reader’s imagination with every title released. For a complete list of
titles and author bios, visit www.accendopress.com.
Here's her Dirty Blood series:
Grab Book 1- Dirty Blood FREE on Amazon NOW!
And pick up the entire series to this point on Amazon Now!
This is in addition to her standalone paranormal book Whisper (which I absolutely loved!):
Grab it on Amazon!
And her upcoming New Adult book A Risk Worth Taking:
Add to Goodreads TBR Shelf Now!
Out on October 22nd, 2013
And onto the fun stuff. First off my extremely fun author interview :)
So you have written both books in a series and a few standalone books, which do you prefer writing?
Well, stand alones are easier because you don’t have to remember stuff. That is definitely the hardest part for me. My memory sucks. I forget things so fast that I have to go back and re-read what I’ve written before I can finish the next book. BUT. I love a series because I get to spend more time with a character. I get really attached to these people, er, fictional characters. I like hanging with them for as long as possible.
Which do you prefer reading?
Hmmm. Depends on the mood. I have a few series that I love and follow religiously but lately, due to time, I prefer stand alones because I don’t have time to get sucked into a ten-book series. Wish I did. Oh, I like the spin offs happening in contemporary right now. It’s a series but can be read in any order because it’s a different MC in each one. Sort of an overlap thing.
Tell me a little bit about the new project you’re currently working on?
I am working on edits for an NA contemp romance called A Risk Worth Taking. It’s been …. Different. After writing only YA since I began publishing, writing the hot and steamy was definitely a challenge at first!
So your next project is your first foray out of the paranormal genre. What was it like to write it?
See above ;) I may have had to get myself drunk to get over the writer’s block. From there, it was all a downhill blur.
If you could have a super power what would it be and what would your superhero name be?
Fly. NO question. I spend time thinking about this, trust me. I wish so HARD that X-men were real so I could find a way to mutate and fly around. It would be so cool! I don’t know what name I would need. American Airlines? Nah, already taken.
So I’ve gotta ask: Wes, Alex, Jack (have to throw him in!) or George?
ALL OF THEM! Duh! Haha. I only create guys I wouldn’t mind “spending time with” *wink, wink* in real life. So, I love all my guys. You can’t ask me to choose just one! #loveallhotboysequally
On your path to becoming the awesome author you are, what was a risk you took that didn’t necessarily pan out the way you would have liked?
Hmm. How about this: I waited sooo long querying. There is nothing wrong with querying if that’s what you want to do, but I’ve learned you shouldn’t sit around waiting for that to happen. Go ahead and get your stories out there. Agents and publishers ARE signing authors whose book has been self-published first. I didn’t know that when I started. I thought I had to choose one or the other. (For the record, I am so happy about my choice!)
If you were to write a book about yourself what would you name it?
Black Sheep? Lunacy? ß haha okay no really, um… This: Let Go.
Do you have a favorite place that you like to write?
I write at home mostly. Anywhere else and I get distracted by all the people. I mostly sit at my dining room table. My couch and bed are more comfortable but then I fall asleep. #nogoodforstorymaking #yayfornaps
There have already been so, so many AMAZING books out this year, including Blood Rule! What are your top three reads of 2013 so far?
Wicked Thing by Angeline Kace (due out Sept 2013. I was lucky enough to beta read this one and it’s fantastic and hot and steamy and YUM!), Beautiful Disaster (yeah, I’m a little behind on my TBR pile. Don’t judge me.), and No Attachments by Tiffany King ßloved this one!
THANKS FOR HAVING ME! <3
And now for the even more fun stuff. When I first signed up for this event I racked my brain trying to come up with something different, fun and kind of fantastic to post. I ran a few ideas by Heather and the one that stuck was a scene from Dirty Blood in Wes's POV. I love scenes in the guy's POV. And then Ms. Hildenbrand had to go and completely one up me and be all awesome-sauce and offer up not only a scene in Wes's POV, but a never before PREQUEL SCENE. Mind. Blown. And ecstatically. Be forewarned, after reading this I immediately wanted to re-read Dirty Blood. Just sayin. In book 1 Wes tells Tara that he's seen her before in the pool hall. Welp, this is that scene. Enjoy and you're welcome ;)
Wes:
Gravel crunched underneath the tires of my brand new Aston Martin. The leather of my recently purchased jacket crinkled stiffly as I downshifted and parked. I checked the mirror, pretending to run a hand through my hair as I scanned the lot behind me. She wasn’t here yet. I checked my phone for messages. No new calls. I’d give her ten minutes and then I was out. In this setup, if you were late, you weren’t coming.
I glanced up. The moon had already risen. I could feel it although it was still too bright out to spot it among the puffy clouds. The full moon was always the strongest for me. The past few months I’d grown too irritated by the noise in my own head and hid at home for the twenty-four hour period that heightened my mental abilities to the point of mind-reading.
It sounded like fun—until you sat in a crowded room with thoughts coming at you like mental arrows so fast you couldn’t see straight. Like any good rock concert, the buzz remained long after the ability to hear the melody—or in this case, thoughts—faded away. But today was different. I’d ventured out under the promise of information.
Liliana usually delivered. Problem was she’d tried offering herself as a gift with purchase so to speak. I wasn’t buying.
My new boots crunched over loose rocks as I crossed the lot to the door. They were brown leather, all-purpose and expensive as hell—the last of the evidence left behind by my shopping spree the week prior. Thank you, trust fund. Having rich, dead parents had its perks.
The sound of cars rushing along the nearby highway died off as I stepped inside the dingy pool hall. I walked to the bar slow enough to scope out the other patrons before sliding onto a stool. The cigarette smoke hanging in the air provided a screen of anonymity. Good. I didn’t want a single one remembering me. I chose a meeting in the middle of the afternoon on purpose; they’d all be drunk enough by nightfall to forget they’d seen me at all. And if they didn’t, my memory-swiping skills would finish the job.
The bartender eyed me, one brow raised in question.
“Beer,” I said.
He popped a top and slid it over without a word mentioned about proper ID. Another reason I liked this place. Eighteen passed for twenty-one, no questions asked.
I sipped my beer and stared into the dust-streaked mirror hanging behind the bar. Through its reflection I watched two gray-beards shoot a game of nine ball in terse silence. Probably a rematch after a steep loss. The fatter one looked way too serious. I spotted a stack of twenties on the far corner of the table.
Two tables over, two girls not much younger than me giggled and took turns shooting, oblivious to the day drinkers and roughnecks shooting them glances every three seconds. They were both pretty in their own way. The dark-haired one was clearly the queen of the court. You could see it in the way she held her chest out and tossed her hair. But the other girl caught my attention—and held it.
She wasn’t like her friend. The way she moved—with a confident yet quiet strength I’d only ever seen in my own kind—and the graceful way she carried herself had me staring in fascination.
Her light brown hair fell around her shoulders and across her forehead at an angle that made her shove it aside each time she leaned down to line up a shot. She didn’t toss it around the way her friend did. It was much more subconscious than that. It was fascinating how she went from laughing and joking with her girlfriend to serious and concentrating the moment she bent over the cue ball.
Took her game seriously, apparently.
Her build was athletic. I assumed she played sports of some kind and I appreciated the curve of her hip, the roundness of her torso as it curved into breasts. My eyes traveled upward and I froze when our eyes met. She’d caught me staring. I took a lazy swig of my beer before I finally looked away.
Feigned confidence. My best attribute.
She went back to her friend and I forced my gaze away, studying the exits. I checked the time again. Liliana better hurry. Three more minutes and I was out of here.
The hair-flipper said something and both girls laughed loud enough every man turned. Neither girl noticed. It sparked my curiosity enough that I did something I usually tried very hard not to. I opened my mind and let their thoughts pour in.
I wonder if that biker guy would take me for a ride if I flirt a little. He’s what? Like fifty? Eww, gross. But no harm in flirting. A motorcycle ride would be so fun!
Dark-haired girl’s thoughts were shallow. Typical. Annoying as hell. I tuned her out.
If Sam doesn’t stop eyeing that old guy in the corner, we are out of here. I am not getting ax-murdered today.
I smirked. Good girl. Stay away from the barflies.
Okay, two more balls to sink and then we can go home. I want to cook that chicken Mom left out. Maybe I can surprise her with dinner at the shop. Breathe, Godfrey. Line it up. Close one eye, open it a little. Inhale. Exhale and shoot.
Her thoughts were surprisingly pleasant to listen to. No drama. No shallowness. No self-involvement like so many other girls her age. I listened for a moment more as she debated how to sink the eight ball and watched through the mirror as she called the corner pocket and bent over to line it up.
The pool stick cracked against the cue ball as she pushed it forward. It smacked the eight ball and I watched the black sphere disappear into the predicted hole. The girl smiled at her friend in a way that said she hadn't doubted herself for a second.
Neither had I.
The front door slid out on its hinges with a creak. I looked up as Liliana walked in. Her eyes almost glowed with the energy radiating from her—a product of the moon phase.
I shifted myself away from the girls behind me, not wanting to draw Liliana’s attention. She was weirdly jealous for a girl I’d already turned down eight times.
As she approached, I concentrated on turning the volume down as much as possible on the thought stream flowing into my head. Liliana’s head wasn't a place I liked to visit. The mind of the honey-brunette behind me—now there was a place I wouldn't mind spending a little more time.
Ways to Stalk Heather Hildenbrand:
Website: www.heatherhildenbrand.blogspot.com
Facebook
Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/HeatherHildenbrandsFanPage
Twitter: https://twitter.com/HeatherHildenbr
