Today I’m thrilled to have Barbara Bettis author of SILVERHAWK with me in the Blue Rose Writing Room.
Hi Collette. I’m so happy to be here on your beautiful blog on this day of the official release of Giles and Emelin’s story. I’d like to celebrate by giving away a copy of the book to one commenter.
That’s wonderful, Barb.
So, tell us, do you use a pen name/pseudo name? If so, why. If not, why did you decide to write under your own name?
I write under a pen name because I want to keep my writing separate from my teaching.
As a fellow teacher, I completely understand that. My students found out what my pen name was though. Awkward considering they are third graders. What’s one thing you absolutely can’t tolerate during your writing?
I really can’t take a lot of noise. Writing in a newsroom, I learned to focus and shut out distractions. Now, though, most distractions bother me. Or perhaps it’s just that the distractions at my house involve grandchildren. Now that I think of it, it’s not the noise that distracts me, it’s the sudden silences. That gets me out of my focus circle—and chair—pretty fast. J
Chuckling here. Oh, the silence of a child into mischief. What’s one thing you can’t write without?
I always need something to sip–a cup of coffee or tea. I reach for it when I’m thinking. Even if it’s cold, it works. All too frequently, I also reach for munchies.
I understand both of those. What’s the funniest thing anyone has ever said to you about your writing?
Actually, it came before I started writing fiction, but it applies. My grandmother would inevitably say, “Did you see what was in the paper tonight?” then go on to talk about whatever story had caught her eye. I’d frequently reply, “Yes, Grandma. I wrote it.” An arrested look would come into her eyes, then she’d nod and smile. She knew very well what I did, but sometimes she just didn’t connect it to what she held in her hand.
There’s something about the written word. When we see it on the page, it takes on its own identity, separate from the writer. Sometimes I wonder if we forget the power words contain.
I also learned all about voice then, too. We didn’t always use bylines at that small daily. But people would tell me they could always tell the stories I wrote by the way they ‘sounded.’
Why did you choose to write in this genre?
As long as I can remember, I’ve loved history and reading stories of knights and daring J. I love recreating those eras.
Have you ever written any other genre?
After three medievals, I’m actually working on a Regency right now. I love the Regency period as well, beginning with my introduction to Jane Austen and, later, Georgette Heyer.
As a fellow Regency author, I understand your passion for the era. Is there any genre you won’t read?
I can’t read gory stories. In high school, I read a book about a group of teens who were in a car accident. They bodies were described as scattered in the road like sacks of grain. I’m sorry I can’t author credit, because I don’t even recall the name of the book. But that image has never left me.
What are you most afraid of?
Snakes.
Tell us something unusual, quirky, or odd about yourself?
Good grief. That would take more space than you have available. J
Okay, now for the quickie questions: Answer in three words or less. Ready? Go!
Favorite Disney Character? Belle
Favorite Fruit? Blueberries
Favorite Hero? All of them J
Favorite Eye Color? No Favorite
Best Vacation destination? British Isles
Food you can’t stand? Anchovies
What annoys you? Rudeness
Coffee, tea, or something else? Coffee And Tea
Nightgown or Jammies? Nightgown
Prefer dogs or cats? Allergic to Cats
Award winning author Barbara Bettis has always loved history and English. As a college freshman, she briefly considered becoming an archeologist until she realized there likely would be bugs and snakes involved. And math.
She spent several years as a journalist before going into teaching. Now she lives in Missouri, where by day she’s a mild-mannered English instructor, and by night she’s an intrepid plotter of tales featuring heroines to die for—and heroes to live for.
He’s everything a proper lady should never want; she’s everything a bastard mercenary can never have.
Sir Giles has come to England to kill his father, who seduced and betrayed his mother. First, however, he’ll seek sweet revenge—kidnap the old lord’s new betrothed. But when Giles uncovers a plot against King Richard, he faces a dilemma: take the lady or track the traitors. What’s a good mercenary to do? Both, of course.
Lady Emelin has had enough. Abandoned in a convent by her brother, she finally has a chance for home and family. Yet now she’s been abducted. Her kidnapper may be the image of her dream knight, but she won’t allow him to spoil this betrothal. Her only solution: escape
Rescuing the intrepid lady—while hunting traitors—is a challenge Giles couldn’t anticipate. But the greatest challenge to Giles and Emelin is the fire blazing between them. For he’s everything a proper lady should never want, and she’s everything a bastard mercenary can never have.
Enjoy an excerpt from SILVERHAWK
Lady Emelin tucked her heavy brown wimple beneath her chin and watched the wounded knight.
Swollen eyelids, a puffy cheek, and bloody scrapes couldn’t hide his handsome features. Waves of midnight hair fell across his wide forehead to brush one side of his square, stubble-darkened jaw. Grit clustered on the high bridge of his nose. What shame such a strong, rugged man should be cut down. Her pulse fluttered, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Ashamed of such reaction, she squeezed shut her eyes.
Would Stephen have been so handsome, had he lived? She hardly recalled what her youthful first betrothed looked like when he joined his foster father on King Richard’s crusade. If only he’d returned, she’d be wed now, with the family she craved.
She sighed, reached for a leaf on her patient’s cheek—and found herself staring into the palest gray eyes she’d ever seen. His mouth moved; she leaned forward.
“What is it?” she murmured.
“Before…I…die,” came the hoarse whisper.
“Yes? What would you like before you die?” If it were in her power, she would provide the poor man with his wish. Drink? Food?
A strong hand gripped the back of her head, pulled her forward. That close, she saw his eyes weren’t gray, but layered like a winter pond winking with ice. They were silver.
“To…kiss…a nun,” came the outrageous reply before his lips met hers.
His warm mouth robbed her of breath for an instant. Then she snapped back with a gasp. And, with inborn reflex, slapped him. His head jerked, his eyes closed, and he lay motionless.
“Oh, Sweet Mary,” Emelin whispered, “I’ve killed him.” Leaning close, she saw his narrow, beautifully molded lips relax. His mouth curved at the corner.
At least he died with a smile on his face.
Here’s how you can contact Barb.
Thanks again, Barb, for joining me here today.
Thanks for having me here, Collette, on this very first day of my wide release. It’s been so exciting. I’ve loved sharing it with your and our visitors.
