Welcome, Phyllis Campbell

Feisty heroines

From as long as I could remember, I loved reading about stubborn heroines – heroines who didn’t put up with crap and who had their own mind. When I first started writing, I had a critique partner (or two) tell me because I write historicals, that women did not act this way back then. Well, I have just one word for people who think that.

RUBBISH!

Although some men frowned upon women who spoke their mind, and some fathers punished their daughters for getting out line, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. After all, that’s how scandals were made, right? And, since we know it happened, I’m willing to bet there were some special men who actually admired a woman for using her wit.

When I first started reading romance books, I don’t remember reading about many feisty heroines. And in a Regency…I don’t think I read hardly any. But, those Regency romance fans know that Elizabeth Bennett (Pride & Prejudice) was stubborn.

So what does feisty mean to you? The MS Word Thesaurus gives us words like energetic, aggressive, lively. To me, feisty means stubborn…and that they don’t take any crap from anyone!

When I was first asked to be in the Regency Christmas Summons Anthology, I was excited. We were able to pick our own character and their parents. The Duke of Danby had summoned his children and grandchildren home for Christmas. Most of his family lived in England, but my character wanted to be different. She wanted to be the illegitimate granddaughter of the duke’s. Well, because of this, she was also brought up differently, lived in America, and stubborn to fault! The first chapter was originally written with her threatening to shoot off a man’s…manhood. In fact, she made him drop his drawers to the crowd to prove her point…and his tiny one. (heehee) Unfortunately, this made the story sound like a western instead of a Regency, so I had to change it. But Dorothy Paxton – my heroine – stayed stubborn throughout the story, thank goodness! Oh, and on top of that…my Dorothy is humorous!

Here is a tiny tidbit from my story, Becoming A Lady, from “A Summons from His Grace” http://amzn.com/B0061CFACY :

“I’m looking for a certain woman, and the trail has led me here to New York. In fact, this very establishment.”

                  “Does this woman have a name?”

                  “Dorothy Paxton.”

                  Her eyes widened once again. “Pray, why would you be looking for her?”

                  “I’ve been sent to find her. Now, if you will, I would like some answers.”

She shrugged. “Forgive me, but I cannot help. I’ve never heard of her.”

                  Calvin couldn’t believe she was lying to him. “I beg to differ. Not more than ten minutes ago, I heard your brother call you Dorothy, and the other woman called you Miss Paxton.”

                  Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you heard wrong. After all, Paxton does rhyme with…um…a lot of words.” She folded her arms. “Besides, why are you looking for her?”

                  He couldn’t stop the smile pulling on his mouth, so he smoothed his mustache with his finger and thumb. “Why are you so interested in knowing?”

                  She shrugged. “I’m curious. You’re the first person who has wandered into town looking for someone I have never heard of.”

“I plan on staying here until I find some answers, too. So perhaps you should get used to me.”

                  “Perhaps.” She arched an eyebrow. “What’s your name, stranger?”

                  He shook his head. “Hmm…I think that question is going to cost you.”

                  Her cheeks reddened and her gaze narrowed. He tried his best not to grin. Two could play her game.

“What is your price?” she finally asked.

                  Surprising, but the more he studied the woman’s face, the lovelier she became. Long, thick lashes outlined her blue eyes. And she had the prettiest shaped mouth he’d ever seen. One way or another, he had to earn her trust. He didn’t want to have to take her back to England fighting him the whole way. “I was thinking about dinner sometime.”

                  She chuckled. “Mister, I believe you can have dinner anytime you wish. All you have to do is order it, and I shall serve it promptly.”

                  What a refreshing sense of humor she had. He shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I’d like to have dinner with you.”

                  She flipped her hand through the air. “That you won’t get, I fear.”

                  He pulled away from the bar. “Then I suppose you don’t want to know my name badly enough, do you?”

Phyllis Campbell is an award-winning, multi-published and best-selling author of romance; from the dark and mysterious hero who sends shivers up your spine to the feisty heroines who somehow manage to keep them in line. She's been published with several small presses since 2006.  Most of her reviewers have given her the title of “Queen Of Sexual Tension”. Married with kids (and three grandchildren), Phyllis has lived in Utah all of her life and enjoys family activities when she’s not writing her next sensual story.

Commenting on this post will enter you into the Giveaway which can be found at - http://phylliscampbell.blogspot.com
 

Ten Ways to Melt a Man's Heart

I know what you’re thinking. Ten Ways? That many? Well, in my story there are, and you’ll laugh all the way through them.

Since this is the month of LOVE, and I get to talk about any love story, I want to choose this one. Why? Because love can be fun, too – which I describe in this story. Before writing this, I read a lot of articles on the different ways women thought they could win a man’s heart. I chose a few of my own and bundled them all into this knee-slapping, good read!

The other reason I’m going to talk about Ten Ways To Melt A Man’s Heart is because the book will be out of contract at the end of this month, so hurry now to order before it’s too late. When Champagne Books first contracted my story, publisher was a little hesitant to publish a contemporary under Phyllis Campbell’s name because to this point, Phyllis Campbell had only written historicals and was a best seller with her historicals.

Thankfully, publisher went ahead and published Ten Ways…and this book was a record-breaker for Champagne. The first time they had so many sales for one book in such a short amount of time! When review sites reviewed my story, they were handing over the 5-star reviews and Recommended Reads! Ten Ways gave me my title – Queen Of Sexual Tension. One reviewer gave me this title and the other reviewers followed. I wear it proudly. (grins)

5-Hearts! Phyllis Campbell has to have the title of Queen of Sexual Tension. She knows how to wind it up tight and have the reader sitting on the edge of her seat waiting for the big O. Captivated from the first page, this reviewer ooh’ed, aah’ed laughed out loud and sighed throughout the book. Ms. Campbell has created a luscious hero. Damien is not all he makes out to be and there are secrets and hidden depths to this wonderful man. Charlene is sunny, sexy and so accident-prone. Her accidents and misgivings will have the reader laughing. Even Max, who is shown at first to be not so sympathetic, is redeemed at the end. A satisfying read from start to finish and well deserving of five hearts!! Highly recommended! – Val / Love Romances

Here’s an excerpt from this book –

Tears threatened, and it wasn’t because of the pain in her head. Plain and simple, she was a loser. She couldn’t do anything right when it came to men.

Reluctantly, Charlene opened the door and climbed out of her BMW. When she slammed the door, the echo rang through the deserted street, mimicking the loneliness of her heart.

A tear slipped free, then others joined. She clutched her purse to her chest, trying to hold back the sob ready to burst forth as she shuffled toward her front door. Before she reached it, Damien’s door opened and she quickly wiped her tears. When he stepped out on the porch, he stopped. His gaze stayed on her.

Relief flooded through her body. Her chest ached, her throat burned. He was the only person she wanted to see right now.
His gaze wandered over her face. His eyes widened, then his forehead crinkled. “Charley? What’s wrong?”

The concern in his voice made an ache form in her heart. Tears fell freely once again. He held his arms open and she rushed to him, pressing her face against his black leather jacket. Her sobs echoed around them. His embrace tightened around her.

“Mí amore, what’s wrong?” he repeated with a tender voice.
When she didn’t say anything – couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him, he lifted her in his arms and stepped back into his house. He raised her face enough to press it against his neck. His spice scent smelled so good, so sexy. Like always
.
The gentle stroke of his hand in her hair soothed her cries, calming her the way only Damien could. He took her to his couch and sat. She remained in his lap, and cursed herself for enjoying every second of it.

But she loved him.

She caught her breath and bit her bottom lip. When had this happened? The bigger question was...did she want it to happen?
Taking a refreshing breath, she finally lifted her head and gazed into his caring eyes. Soft and gray. So dreamy and laced with concern. Her heart clenched harder. She wanted him in her life. She wanted him to love her, to devote himself to her and only her. Would he ever do that?

He swiped his thumb over her cheek, brushing away more tears. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

She nodded and cleared her throat. “I’m up to strike six. Good thing I’m not playing baseball, huh?”

“What happened?”

She tried forcing a laugh, but it didn’t come across as humor. The squeak sounded pathetic. “You wouldn’t think I could mess this one up, but I did.”

“Did you talk to him about the Three Stooges?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t like it?”

“Oh, he liked it, all right. He thought my version of Curly’s n’yuck, n’yuck, n’yuck was amusing.”

“Then what went wrong?”

She shrugged. “I thought, being a Stooge fan and all, that he’d be prepared when I did the fingers-in-the-eyes trick.” She shook her head. “He wasn’t. His eyes watered for nearly a half-hour, and even when he left work, they were still red. If he goes blind, it’ll be my fault.”

Damien’s lips twitched, yet his eyes still drooped with sympathy. Through her misery, there was humor in everything, and a smile tugged at her lips. Soon, his smile widened.

“Oh, Damien, why didn’t he block my poke?” She rubbed her forehead and sighed.

He chuckled. “I don’t know, mí amore.” He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Perhaps he’s scolding himself for not doing it at this very moment.”

She laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he’s doing a lot more than scolding. He’s probably at the eye doctor discussing surgery this very moment.”

He shook his head. “God, I love your sense of humor.”
His laughing eyes grabbed her, pulled her in. Her heartbeat quickened. His square, clean-shaven jaw tempted her to touch it, so she did, cupping her hand on the side of his face. It was smooth against her palm, and she imagined how it would feel against her bare skin...against her bare breasts...her bare thighs... Heated tingles surged through her body, moistening certain parts that cried out to him and only him.

Why did the picture in her mind seem so real?

Had he been in her room the night of the Christmas party? Had it been his hands, his lips driving her mad with desire?

Her heart hammered and moisture gathered between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together, hoping to make the crazy sensation rushing throughout her body disappear.

She stared at his lips, remembering the way they glided sensually over her body. Had it really been a dream? She’d kissed Damien only a couple of times, and his lips were very gentle. Perhaps she’d just imagined the time when they’d almost made love on her bed after the Christmas party.

His expression softened, the gray in his eyes darkening and his lips parting. She had to kiss him. Now! Her heart jumped and lodged itself in her throat.

She continued to lean forward, slowly, and waited for him to stop her.

He didn’t. She closed her eyes and their lips touched.

His hands bracketed her head, holding her in place. Her heart soared. She nibbled on his parted lips, sucking the lower lip inside her mouth. He let out a small moan before slanting his mouth over hers and slipping his tongue inside.

Electric pleasure ripped through every nerve in her body, heating her blood to boiling. A sigh escaped her, sounding more like a groan. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his face to hers as she partook of his erotic kiss. This was exactly what her dream had been like. Now everything was real. That night had been real.

To purchase ebook (ONLY $3 now!!!) – Visit Champagne Books.

To purchase paperback from Amazon


HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

~Phyllis~
www.phyllismariecampbell.com

Love Extends Beyond...

A sister author and friend, Maryann Miller, presented me with this "Circle of Friends" award, and although there's no money attached to the honor, it still has significant meaning.

In this month of honoring love, I'd like to remind you that the emotion extends beyond Valentines and family. As someone who once had tons of 'skin and bone' friends, I've recently discovered that all of mine live in a 'virtual' world. The fact that I've never met them face-to-face, or wouldn't recognize them if we passed on the street has no bearing on how much my cyber-friends mean to me.

Recently, I was without my computer for almost two weeks. Doesn't sound like a major issue, but I can't believe how lonely I got and how much I missed my daily interactions with people like Maryann and other friends with whom I chat frequently. These people have been my support group, my cheerleaders, my inspiration, advisers, and confidantes. So, I'm happy to be in Maryann's circle of friends. It's quite an esteemed place to be.

AND...I don't even have to bore you with seven to ten little known facts about me....and I'm glad. I think I've spilled my guts about everything there is to know. Even some you shouldn't. *smile*

I do have to nominate five blogging friends, and that's hard because there are so many I would like to mention, but, like Maryann, I'll pick those most likely to find time to recognize a few friends of their own.

Phyllis Campbell
Anita Davison
Anna Kathryn Lanier
Chris Redding
Tabitha Shay

Night Secrets

My good friend and fellow author, Phyllis Campbell, agreed to share an excerpt from a current work-in-progress, Night Secrets. Phyllis is known as the "Queen of Sexual Tension," but it appears she's good at creating tension period. You can check at her available work on her website.

Get ready to shiver:

Eager to crawl between the blankets and snuggle against the pillows, Hannah hurriedly undressed. While her maid, Francine, brushed Hannah’s hair, the servant babbled about the friends she’d met in the Thornton’s staff.

“Although they are very kind, I fear they are keeping secrets.”
Hannah yawned. “What secrets, do you think?”

“Well, there was no mention of the East Wing ghost, but instead they talked about the cursed white wolf that roams the land.”
Arching an eyebrow, Hannah met her maid’s gaze in the vanity mirror. “A white wolf? I’m quite certain there are many wild animals roaming around.”

“They said the white wolf was cursed.”

“Hmmm...I wonder if the wolf and the ghost share tea every evening. Do they meet on the cursed island, too?”

Francine snickered. “Your sarcasm is not becoming, Mademoiselle.”
Hannah laughed. “Forgive me. I’m tired.”

“I believe the servants. They say every full moon the white wolf comes out of hiding and feeds upon the innocent.”

Hannah scrunched her forehead. “Feeds upon the innocent? Pray, what does that mean? And how does the wolf know if a person is innocent or not? Does he ask them before he kills and eats them?”
“It’s rumored that the wolf only kills virgin women.”

“Once again, Francine. How does the wolf know they’re virgins?” Hannah rubbed her forehead. “Oh, why must you believe these stories? Have you not stopped to think the others are telling you this to frighten you?”

“Oui.” Francine stopped the brush in mid-stroke and leaned closer to Hannah’s ear. “Why, and for what purpose? Why would they wish to scare us away?”

“Why, indeed.” Hannah tapped her finger on her chin. “I think they are creating these stories to cover the truth.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know. But I will find out.”

“How?”

Hannah shrugged. “That is a good question, one I will ponder tomorrow.” She exhaled slowly. “Because tonight I plan to rest.”
Francine placed the brush on the vanity table and turned toward the door. “I shall be in my room if you need me.”

“Good night, Francine. Please lock your door.” Hannah tried not to grin. “With the roaming wolf and musical ghost, I’m quite certain you’ll need as much protection as you can get.”

Francine shook her head and hurried out of the room. Hannah chuckled as she pulled back the blankets and slipped between the sheets. After switching off the lamp, she thumped her fist into the pillow and curled on her side. What she needed was a couple hours sleep if she intended to search through the house tonight. Although she didn’t believe these ridiculous ghost stories, there was still something not quite right in the manor.

Just as her body relaxed, the floor creaked. She snapped her eyes open to cloaking darkness.

She pulled the sheet to her neck. Soft noises shuffled in the room against the far wall. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her breathing became ragged.

Straining, she cocked her head toward the noise, but heard nothing more. She rubbed her eyes and tightened the sheet around her before curling back under the covers. Fear threatened to close her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on her surroundings. Should she pull on her robe and investigate?
She rolled in bed and peered toward the window. The moonlight peeked through the slit in the curtains, but did little to brighten the room.

So intent on listening, her forehead pounded in a quick rhythm. She breathed a deep sigh, rotated her shoulders and once more closed her eyes. Old homes settled and groaned, and certainly the manor was no different.

The floor creaked again and she stiffened.

Heavy breathing floated through the air. She focused on the dark shadows playing marionette with her sanity. Someone was in her room. But how? Her gaze darted to the closed door.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, a tall shadow appeared at the foot of her bed. She managed to discern someone dressed in a cape with a hood pulled low over their head. A man, she assumed, with wide shoulders. Darkness covered his face.

Was this the ghost Mrs. White had spoken of?

She wanted to scream, but fear kept her mute. Should she lie still and pray he’d disappear?

The stranger’s breathing grew heavier, as did her own. The figure didn’t move. Building the courage she needed to scream, she opened her mouth, but the caped figure held up his hand, his finger pointing at her.

“You’re in danger here. You must leave.”

END of Excerpt

That was quite a teaser. Now we have to email her and bug her to get this finished and published. :)

Openings - How Important Are They

Dig out your red pencils. After posting the topic on opening lines,(the one I borrowed from Phyllis Campbell)then judging several entries in the EPIC contest, I'm realizing how important the opening of a book really is. I decided to continue the theme.

Author Jen Black turned this topic into a challenge. She actually posted opening lines on her own blog and asked visitor's to critique them. I went and added my two cents (you know I would), and now I'm going to accept her challenge to do the same. I invite you to join by doing the same on your blog.

Below, you'll find the opening of my works-in-progress. I invite you to point out anything I can do to improve on my hook. Would these make you want to keep reading? Remember, these are actually the openings to the stories I'm working on now:

Odessa:

“Can anyone hear me?” Odessa Clay screamed. Nothing in the desert stirred except the hot wind that whipped her long hair into tangles.

Her nails dug into her fisted palms. She returned her gaze to the overturned wagon atop her father. Again, she struggled to lift the cumbersome weight.“God, please help me.”

The Locket:

A heavy mist hung in the air. Sheila Townsend’s bangs drooped into her eyes. Her muscles tensed as she hauled open the heavy door to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Her entrance flickered the tiers of candles at the altar.

She paused inside, removed her scarf and blotted her face. The stained glass window on the far wall--an image of the Holy Mother--looked far less impressive at night than when the sun shone through the tinted panes. Hurrying up the long aisle between empty pews, Sheila slipped into the confessional, sat and slid open the door separating her from the priest.

First Degree Innocence:

“Okay, Lang, strip!”

The guard’s bark made Carrie’s stomach turn. She cowered in the corner of the women’s processing area, unable to move. Her legs wobbled and her lips quivered under the blast of cold air from the ceiling vent.


Shortcomings:

“Hey, gimpy, wanna race.” Pep squad captain, Sally Rogers, yelled from across the street amidst a gathering of her groupies. “If you win, maybe I’ll buy you something new to wear.”

Cindy Johnson sagged against the tree at the bottom of the hill leading up to her house, wishing she could sprint home to escape the piercing stares and haunting laughter. Seventeen years ago she’d been born with one leg noticeably shorter than the other. Every day brought a new heartache. Would the tormenting ever stop? Tears burned the back of her eyes. Since she’d switched schools, not a day passed that someone didn’t question her deformity or comment on the limp it caused.

Okay...have at me. I'm ready to learn. :)

I've Highjacked Another Blog

My good friend, Phyllis Campbell, posted such wonderful information on Vivacious Vixens, I asked her permission to post it here as well. She graciously agreed, so without further ado...read and learn. I did: (P.S. She hasn't earned the title, Queen of Sexual Tension, by being timid and shy.)


“Have you ever had sex in an elevator?”

Does this line grab you? Make you want to move on?

James Lawrence slid his palm across the woman’s back and down the swell of her buttocks and squeezed. “Now this is what I call a great hand.”

“I’d rather be thrown in piranha-infested waters than go out with a man!”

How about these next lines? How do you feel when you read them?

Kendra Wakefield smoothed her ice blue silk dress with a single white-gloved hand and sat straight in her chair. Lifting the small opera glasses, she peered through the lenses at the faces of the well-dressed couples entering below her balcony box.

The westbound train from Alabama screeched to a halt in front of the New Orleans’ depot. When Juliana Warren finally stepped onto solid ground, she released a deep sigh.

Hmmm…I really didn’t see anything exciting in these last two, paragraphs, either…which brings me to my point. The purpose of an opening hook is to catch the reader’s attention and make them keep reading. An editor once told me, during my appointment with her at a RWA conference, that if the first paragraph of a query or even a chapter doesn’t grab her attention, she usually puts it in the ‘reject’ pile without reading on. Yikes! This isn’t good at all, especially for struggling writers. So if the first line doesn’t grab the editor’s attention, what makes you think the second line will?

Now try some of these opening hooks. Do they catch your interest? Do they make you want to read on?

“Come on, open the door, honey.” Jace Corbett pounded on the solid oak, rattling the gold number 10 hanging in the middle. The late winter wind whipped against his bare skin and underneath the small towel wrapped around his waist. “I’m freezing my ass off.” Literally.

This particular opening is supposed to make the reader wonder why he’s freezing his ass off. And why is he wearing a towel out in the freezing weather? Hmmm… Did this opening work for you? Did it make you want to know more?

Kristine Olsen had never seen so many naked bodies in one place. Considering all the avenues her line of work took her, she didn’t expect a scene like this would shock her.
It did.

And what about this one? Sex sells, which means the words “naked bodies” should grab the reader immediately. But not always do you need sex in your opening to catch the reader’s eye. Using action as your hook is also very good to do! Take a look at the next two story openings…

He’s going to kill me!
Breanna Loveland gripped the shoulder-strap of her seatbelt, her knuckles turning whiter the harder she hung on. Through the windshield, she focused on the snow-packed road ahead. The heavy flakes hit the glass faster than the blades could remove it, making it almost impossible to see. The blinding storm covered the streetlights and darkness surrounded the car. She silently prayed this vehicle had an airbag just in case her fiancé’s reckless driving ended them in some ditch – or worse, head-on with another car.

“I’m going to kill him with my bare hands,” Monica Lange raged in a mixture of anger and sorrow as she paced the floor in her father’s den.

So, now we know what an opening hook is – how can we write one? Take a look at the first paragraph in chapter one of your story. Have you started it where you need to? Is this a place that’s going to make the reader wonder what’s going on and why or have you written too many descriptions or dialogue that doesn’t go anywhere?

Let’s do an exercise. We’ll take one of the boring sample paragraphs and try to make it a good opening hook. Let’s work on poor Kendra Wakefield. We know she’s at an opera and that she’s watching the others arriving below her box. How can we make this more active? Interesting? Why don’t we give her a shaky hand? Kendra Wakefield smoothed her ice-blue silk dress with a shaky hand. Or let’s add some internal thoughts here. Where in the blazes is that man? Or maybe she isn’t looking for someone, but hiding from someone and wonders if others will recognize her. She took a ragged breath. Will they know I’m not who I portray? At this point, if it’s done right, the reader will want to know why she is pretending and what is making her so nervous. Therefore – those unanswered questions will keep the reader from nodding off.

In a workshop given by Donald Maass of the Maass Literary Agency, he says readers will allow you only three lines before their mind begins to wander. That’s not very encouraging, is it? So why not grab the reader immediately?

Never begin with the heroine sitting and thinking. Get her butt off the chair and add some action and unanswered questions! Never open with long descriptions. Never open with weather – unless the pouring rain has flooded the roads and your characters are on their way to the hospital to have a baby… You get the picture. Never begin with backstory. That’s too much information to tell right away, especially when it can be woven into the rest of the story. Instead, open with conflict or just before a moment of change. Say your hero is minutes away from walking down the aisle to his own wedding, but he overhears his soon to be father-in-law making plans with a hitman to kill him after the wedding. Yup, I’d say it was time to make your character change his plans – and fast!

Closing hooks are similar. When you close a chapter, you should try to pose a question or set up a situation that makes the reader want to keep reading. The point is to end your chapter in a manner that encourages the reader to continue with your story. If you end your chapter with your character going to bed…so will your reader. This is not advised. It’s far better for your heroine to be knocked unconscious than to knock your reader into this state. Pose a question and don’t answer it until the next chapter. You may not want to end every chapter this way, but ask yourself “Does this end in a way that encourages your reader to keep reading?” If your answer is yes, then you’re ready to write the next article on hooks. (Big Grin)

**samples taken from my stories and some quotes taken from Donald Maass’ workshop.**

Visit my website to see other stories I have with great opening hooks! www.phyllismariecampbell.com

~Vixen Phyllis~

Tune in Tomorrow

My Thursday Tourist will be non other than *drum roll*
Phyllis Campbell. I can't think of anything better to describe her than her own banner:

Debuting Another New Video

I proudly announce my latest creation for another one of Phyllis Campbell's stunning love stories.

The Final FIVE

Queen of Hearts by Phyllis Campbell







Play It Again Sam by Maryann Miller









Sparks Fly by Clare London










Dragon Lord of the Kells by Brenda Weaver







Change by Rhobin Lee Courtright