Please give a warm welcome to Sarah Castille, who is here today to share with us one very vivid moment of her life that inspired her latest novel, Barely Undercover, released December 3rd! So read on, I'm sure you'll have a blast and you could win a copy of Legal Heat (that I loved as you can see in my review) and its sequel Barely Undercover!
“Are you still working on that book?”
“When is the last time you used this broom?”
“There’s an extra kid in the house. Where did she come from?”
“Something’s burning. Looks like we’re having pizza.”
Legal Heat. In his mind, the day I typed “The End” was the day life would return to normal. No more burned dinners, dusty floors or devastating kid lunch mix ups (after all how could I forget DD2 hates cheese but likes bread, DD1 won’t eat bread with crusts and will only eat orange cheese, and DD3 must have everything cut into dinosaur shapes or lunch will be “ruined.”). He was looking forward to having a companion for his Sons of Anarchy marathons, a full fridge, and a wife who wasn’t always mumbling about who to kill off at the end of the book and practicing bad-guy take downs with the kids in the kitchen.
Unfortunately, dreams don’t always come true. At least not for him. For me, however, my dream of becoming a published author was realized one Christmas when Legal Heat won ten RWA chapter contests and landed me an agent and two publishing contracts.
“Pizza for everyone!” I cheered. “And egg-nog.”
The hubs scrubbed his hand over his face. “I think I’ll buy myself a Harley as a reward for my patience.”
Still riding the wave of publishing glory over the next few months and busy writing a new series about MMA fighters, I didn’t take him seriously. Even when he came home in early spring and told me were going for a “little drive”, I didn’t clue in. However, when I saw the shining tribute to chrome and steel sitting curbside in a dodgy area of town and attended by two bad-ass biker types, I began to get worried.
“Are they waiting for someone?” I hoped he had waved to the giant grizzly bear with the patched leather vest and long grey beard just to be friendly.
Plastering a smile on my face, I suffered through the introductions to “Dog” and his equally terrifying but not as grizzled companion, “Riff”.
“The old lady?” Dog sniffed.
The hubs, trying desperately to “cool it up” with his new “friends” threw an arm around my shoulders. “Yup. The ‘ol lady. The ball ‘n chain. My sweet mama.”
A red haze clouded my vision and suddenly, inspiration struck. I knew how I was going to kill off one of the characters in my new book. The end would be grizzly. Mean. A punishment to fit the crime. He would never call his beloved old again. Not with mouth full of burned dinner.
For the next half hour, I endured a bolt by bolt discussion of the hog and its parts while the hubs drooled all over his boots. Sensing they didn’t have to work so hard for the sale—or really, at all—they abruptly ended the tour by pointing out the custom artwork on the back fender. The giant skull with flaming eyes surmounted on a cross-bone fence almost sent the hubs into a swoon.
“What do you think, hon?” he asked without looking at me, clearly not caring what I thought because he was already reaching for his chequebook.
“I think it might scare the kids.”
“Don’t scare my kids,” an unhelpful Dog growled.
For some reason I suspected there wouldn’t be much that would scare Dog’s kids. I also suspected his kids didn’t get crustless, cheeseless sandwiches cut into dinosaur shapes for lunch.
Dog named a figure. Riff snickered. The hubs asked me for a pen.
“Do you think you should negotiate?” I whispered, as I rifled through my purse for any object that would put an end to my misery.
“It’s a good price. That artwork alone is worth at least $200.”
Fortunately for the hubs, my hand landed first on the pen and not the knife I kept in my purse for emergencies such as parcel opening, treat sharing and inflicting serious injuries on insane husbands. “I was thinking of negotiating in the thousands and not the hundreds.”
“Pshaw.” The hubs actually said this as he spun me around again. “What’s a couple of thousand dollars when you’re buying a quality product?”
“I’ll remember that the next time you complain that I should have saved six cents and bought the generic can of beans,” I snapped.
To make a long and painful story short, the hubs got his Harley and I got the inspiration to write the next book in the Legal Heat series, Barely Undercover. Lots of bikers, lots of Harleys, even Dog and Riff make an appearance (but in disguise), and, of course, lots of romance.
Because in the end, I got to ride the Harley, too!
With passion at full throttle, there’s no turning back.
When private investigator Lana Parker follows a dangerous biker into an underground sex club, James Hunter is the last man she expects to see. But there he is, all dark looks and chiseled charms, ready to break her heart all over again.
Danger is the name of the game for an undercover cop. And the last thing James wants is for the fiery beauty to come anywhere near the notorious biker gang he’s trying to take down. Yet Lana has no intention of giving up her case, which means he’ll have to keep her close to keep her safe. A risky proposition—especially when their blazing sexual chemistry reignites an unforgettable passion.
But when a dark terror emerges from the past, Lana goes on the run…and James gives up everything to save her. Backed into a corner, Lana must face her fears, including the one thing that frightens her most…her overwhelming feelings for the man whose searing glance sparks her most hidden desires, the man she should not trust, but cannot resist.
Warning: The book contains violence, explicit sex, light BDSM, heavy swearing, motorcycle sexytimes, bad-ass biker naughtytimes, and an exceptionally hot hero who will get down and dirty anywhere but under the covers.
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