Today I’m thrilled to have Samanthya Wyatt, author of The Right One, with me in the Blue Rose Writing Room.
Hi Collette. Thank you for inviting me. I’m happy to be here.
So, do you use a pen name/pseudo name? If so, why. If not, why did you decide to write under your own name?
I do. When I was younger I feared rejection. It did not get any better when I grew up. Not knowing if I was good enough, would ever be published, not to mention the reaction to heated content. For those who love historical romance, and steamy scenes, I hope they enjoy my books. I will take comfort in knowing someone liked my story without concern over a close friend or relative’s reaction.
Can you tell us how long you have been writing?
I wrote poems and short stories as a child. I signed everything UNKNOWN AUTHOR. When I graduated, my life changed. I married, traveled, and had a family. My own children were in high school before I started writing again. I had a dream to write historical romance novels. Fifteen years ago, I wrote a story and put it on a shelf. A few years ago I started writing again and I finished my historical The Right Onewhich is due to be released June 18, 2014. I can hardly wait.
What is one place you absolutely want to visit before you die?
The Statue of Liberty in New York City. I’ve been all over the country, United States and abroad. But I’ve never seen the Statue of Liberty up close. I plan to do that, hopefully next year.
Why did you choose to write in this genre? Have you ever written any other genre? Do you plan on doing so in the future?
My main love is historical. I would have liked to live in the Regency time period. Dashing Lords and pirates seem so romantic. So historical genre is the one I chose. One day I was playing around to get my mind off edits and I wrote a scene with two women bantering back and forth. The words seemed to flow. So I ended up writing my first contemporary Something More. Which is also due for release June 25, 2014. Even though historical romance is my first love, the time period requires a lot of research and effort with language of the time period. I worry about making a mistake with British slang.
What historical figure do you wish you could have met?
Clark Gable – Rhett Butler in Gone With The Wind.
I know what you mean, but hey, I’m a romantic. And Gone With The Wind has to be the greatest story ever written.
George Washington and Abraham Lincoln are the first to come to mind. Patrick Henry – “Give me liberty or give me death”. All the famous men who have shaped our country. But the most interesting, I think Mark Twain. His intellect and ideas were impressive. I would have enjoyed a conversation with Mark Twain.
What are you most proud of about your writing?
That I never stopped. I get a lot of joy from creating new characters and bringing them together in a romantic tale. It took years of putting words on paper, joining RWA, joining other chapters, entering contests, submissions, rejections. Every one of these things created the author I am today. Keeping my spirit and turning criticism into drive.
How do you respond to negative reviews?
Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but I do not have to agree. However, I do try to learn and improve my writing every day. Negativity only makes me work that much harder. I must say that my husband has been the greatest. He encourages me, pushes me and teases me mercilessly. I love it. Whenever we go into a book store, he says, “Ya never know. One day you could have a book on that shelf.”
What is something you are determined to do?
I’m determined to keep writing and hopefully publish more books. I also plan to travel. I still have a day job. When my hubby retires, I will also. Then we plan a month trip across the US. We may end up anywhere.
Do you have a favorite quote?
“If you see someone without a smile, give them yours.”
I heard this when I was a child and I have never forgotten it. Every day is a new day, why not greet it with a smile?
Tell us something unusual, quirky, or odd about yourself.
I love to make people laugh. My hubby is so silly. And his playfulness has rubbed off on me. Anything can come out of my mouth sometimes, just for fun. I’ll say things that don’t make sense, have people raising their eyebrows, or just busting out with laughter.
I love to do fun things. At my age I still love rollercoasters.
Okay, now for the quickie questions: Answer in three words or less. Ready? Go!
Favorite Disney Character? Tigger
Favorite Fruit? Pear
Favorite Hero? Iron Man
Favorite Eye Color? Blue
Best Vacation Destination? Myrtle Beach – Any Beach
Food you can’t stand? Fish
What annoys you? Shopping Carts in Parking Lots
Coffee, tea, or something else? Coffee, and Kahlua & Coke
Nightgown or Jammies? Gown, baggy shirt
Prefer dogs or cats? German Shepherd
A bit about Samanthya
I love romance. In my younger years I read every book I could get my hands on. When I couldn’t afford to buy them, I wrote my own stories. Then came the dream to write historical romance novels. Fifteen years ago, I wrote to Catherine Coulter and was amazed that she wrote back. I couldn’t believe it. She was very encouraging and told me to join RWA. She said to write everyday even if it was only one sentence. Well, life happened. I married a military man, we traveled all over the country, I had a family and there was no time for writing.
Many years later, I’m in a book store looking at the covers wanting to try a new author. I see the face of a hunk on a book cover and immediately bought that book. Yep, ladies. A book cover can make a difference. I’m reading Anna Campbell and – I was hooked! I went back and bought her other two books (which was all she’d written at that time). I contacted her. She’s so nice, and again I was advised to join RWA. I did it via Internet and now I am a RWA member, joined three chapters, and I’m a member of Savvy Authors.
I started writing again. I entered a lot of contests, workshops, and made some good friends via e-mails. I finally finished my historical romance, the first of a trilogy, and I completed a contemporary romance “Something More”. I enjoy penning a story with strong characters, a bit of humor, and active scenes.
Finally my dream is coming true with Soul Mate Publishing. I invite you to lay the worries of the world off your shoulders and get lost in the pages of a romance, where you embark on a journey with the hero and heroine, become involved in a dream, plunge into a world of fantasy, live an adventure your heart can share.
The Right One
He abducts the wrong woman . . . she proves she is the right one.
Morgan Bartholomew Langston, Earl of Whetherford, has finally decided to accept his fate. Tired of dangerous assignments and putting his neck on the line, he has returned to his ancestral home to accept the title of his birthright and produce the required heir. But, when he arrives, he finds his home has been invaded and a female has taken off with his mother’s jewels. Morgan decides the traitorous jade will not get away, so he sets into motion a plan to bring her back. When he abducts the wrong woman, his reaction to her brings him dangerously close to breaking his vow of forbidden emotions.
Katherine Elizabeth Radbourn is a strong, independent woman and at the age of twenty three, is still unwed. In a desperate attempt to find her brother, she is abducted which leads her on a journey to love and mistaken identity. Once she meets her captor, fear and indignation dissipates to an overwhelming awareness. Even though he tells her she is the wrong one, Katherine realizes she has finally met a man that – not only she is attracted to – but has awakened her woman’s body. Does he really care for her or does he secretly yearn for the woman she is supposed to be? Uncertainty makes her risk the very man she has given her soul.
Enjoy an excerpt from The Right One
Kat had been summoned. He had requested her presence, not demanded. Beckoned, as if she were an invited guest. The irony of it all.
Her stomach was tied in knots—had been ever since she received his invitation. She tried to slow her breathing. She swallowed, but the lump that lodged from her throat to the center of her chest never moved. Her head throbbed. The pulse in her temples pounded with every beat of her heart. So loud in volume, she feared surely someone could hear it. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the blond man’s smirk, which was becoming all too familiar. He waited for her to enter the lion’s den. She faced the huge solid oak door, the only thing between her and her impending fate.
The vein in her neck throbbed. If she didn’t calm down, she would be at his mercy. And that would never do. She could not allow him to know how defenseless she believed herself to be.
Lord Whetherford should have absolved her by now. If he was any kind of a gentleman, he would have set her free. She hesitated another moment outside the door. He was at fault—not her. She would demand to be released at once. Her body as taut as a tightly-drawn corset, she knocked on the wooden door.
Hearing his utterance, Kat smoothed her hands down the sides of her gown and squared her shoulders. Knowing Hathridge studied her, she summoned the courage to enter with a confident determination she did not feel.
She opened the study door.
He stood by the window, facing the sunlight, his back to her. A large, dark, muscular man, in all his finery, with broad shoulders and a commanding stance. Inky black waves hung thick and unruly. Tresses just long enough to curl over the neck of a white shirt peaking from the collar of his black suit coat. This man stood as tall as her brother, and Stephen loomed well over six feet. Even from the back, his broadness showed plenty of muscle. Remembering his fight with the ruffians made her sigh, marveling at the instant craving that pierced her torso.
The latch of the closing door generated a spike in her already rapid pulse. No chance to flee since Hathridge, quite possibly, barred the door. She lifted her chin and forced her arms by her side. Not knowing what to say, or if he expected her to say anything at all, she waited. He remained motionless, taking his darn sweet time to acknowledge her presence. Why didn’t he turn around? Why did he ignore her? The silence drew out so long she thought her unsteady legs would not hold her much longer.
Finally, he spoke. “Would you like a drink, my dear?
She had forgotten the low deep timbre of his voice. The rich baritone sent surges of awareness down her spine. An unexpected, distinct wakefulness. She resisted the urge to clasp her hands and entwine her worrisome fingers. Kat answered in a voice she hoped would not crack. “No, thank you.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin when he whirled around like the lash of a whip. He didn’t speak. He stood like stone, the same as she. Smoldering dark eyes seized hers in a heated, locked gaze, drowning her in their penetrating force. She had not been prepared for the dark threatening expression—threatening in the way that she felt something move within her.
Time stood still.
Nothing else in the room existed but the two of them. His hypnotic pull seared her, sending a tingling sensation beginning in her stomach, then flowing down the back of her knees and extending through her limbs making it impossible to move.
Her throat tightened.
If those eyes could shoot fire, they would sear holes right through her. But the expression on his face . . . he looked like he’d just had a good kick in the teeth.
Morgan felt as though someone had just punched him in the gut—hard. His breath caught at the sight of the stunning creature before him. Lost in amazing green eyes—adrift in their sparkling jade and mystique sensuality. He scanned her high cheekbones with soft creamy skin, and let his gaze slide down to fasten on luscious lips. Suddenly his mouth was dry
A cloud of vibrant red hair floated around her shoulders—like the brightest sunset at the end of a day, resting on the shimmering ocean. Luxuriant masses of thick curls inviting a man’s hands. He flexed his to keep from reaching for her. The movement reminded him of the snifter in his palm, which brought him some sense of stability.
He took in her exquisite form, stared at the more-than-generous swell of bosom, letting his heated gaze linger there. A notion popped in the back of his mind telling him to breathe. He tightened his jaw to make sure his mouth did not hang open. His hungry eyes moved lower, perceiving a slim waist before the folds of her gown hid the rest. He swore under his breath. She is exquisite.
She stood straight and tall with her chin at an angle in challenge. Even with that rod in her backbone, he sensed her vulnerability. A pang of concern struck his chest.
“You,” he whispered. What the hell is she doing here?
An explosion went off in his brain. Holy Mother of God! Those fools. They must have brought her here thinking she was Juliana.
Blood and the devil!
Morgan’s heart kicked and landed somewhere in the bottom of his gut. Choking on the words for this unsettling circumstance, he compelled himself to speak hoping his voice would not betray him. “I owe you my profound apology. There has been a horrendous mistake, madam. And I fear that I have made it.”
Those beautiful eyes blinked. She stared at him as though someone had taken over her senses. Was this woman a simpleton?
He hurried to the sideboard. Even though she could quite possibly be in shock, he ignored the stronger spirits and poured a generous amount of sherry. He didn’t want to knock her on her bum, just bring some color back in her face. He strode back to the unknown beauty and placed the flute in her hand.
Changes came over her face. Stupor—awe—surprise—and . . . anger. Although Morgan was not a patient man, he waited.
Her eyes flamed with fire. “Did I hear you correctly? Mistake?”
Morgan stopped the oath before it left his mouth. “Yes. I believe your being here is a mistake.”
“A mistake.” She echoed with a stupefied look, unseeing the crystal she held in her hand. “That’s what I thought you said.”
She raised the glass and downed the liquid in one swift movement. Tears came to her eyes as she tried not to cough. She marched to the side table and he feared she planned to get more. Instead she set the glass on the table top. When she faced him, her hands were fisted and the fire in her eyes burned brighter than the flames in the hearth.
“Mistake?” she snapped. “I was kidnapped! I have been a prisoner in your home. Forced to come here and forced to remain. I’ve been scared out of my mind. Every day I worried if you still lived. I agonized over what would become of me if you died. Then I walk in here and you have the audacious daring to tell me it was a mistake?”
Here’s how you can contact Samanthya
Please visit my webpage, www.samanthyawyatt.com
Facebook – Goodreads – Amazon
Thanks again, Samanthya, for joining me here today!
You’re welcome, Collette. It was my pleasure.
