Guest Blog: Bernadette Marie

Today we talk to bestselling romance author Bernadette Marie. I really love her books, so when she agreed to swing by and give me an interview I was really excited!  Her new novel, First Kiss, is out today so be sure  to read the sample chapter at the end of the interview and go get a copy!

What is your favorite thing about being a writer?

Creating! I love the whole process of building characters in my mind and portraying them, hopefully correctly, on the pages as their stories are told.

What genre(s) do you write?

I love to write Contemporary Romance.  However, I do have some paranormal in my future.

In the bookstore, with what genre and authors would we find you?

You’ll find me in contemporary romance and I’ve been blessed to ride the charts with such great authors as Nora Roberts and Bella Andre

What was the hardest part of writing your book?

Not falling asleep at the keyboard.  I’m blessed with constant flow in my mind…but my eyes won’t always stay open for me.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Total pantser!  Nothing is planned when I sit down.

What do you hope readers take with them after reading one of your stories?

I hope they have a sense of I NEED MORE! But aside from that I promise happily ever after and I deliver on that. I want to walk away from a book and feel good for days.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

I suppose it would be, if you look around you you’ll notice exactly what you need.

How long have you been a writer?

I have been a writer since I was 13, but have been published since 2010

How much time did it take from writing your first book to having it published?

My very first book is not published…it’s hidden.  However, the book that was first pubbed was penned with 12 others in 2007. I was on fire. So it didn’t take long to write. I received my first contract in December 2009 and the book was launched in April 2010.

What other careers have you had?

I never give up a good career. SO I’m still doing data entry, I still run a salon—only now it is in my basement. I teach anyone anything they want to know from writing to karate.

Do you write under more than one name? Why?

I only write under Bernadette Marie, which is my given name.

Are any of your characters based on real people or events?

After a while I found that my characters took on traits of other people.  As for events, they are modern day, so that keeps the events current.

How would you describe yourself if you were “speed dating” your readers?

I promise a happy ending. You won’t walk away from my books with a heavy heart.

What’s something fans would find fascinating about you?

As of October 2012 I will be a 2nd degree black belt momma! I have 5 sons (2 of them are 2nd degree black belts, 2 are conditional black belts and one is a high red.) We kick butt in this house!

What else would you like readers to know about you or your work?

That I put my heart into every story I write. Sure I have been accused of being predictable, but with happily ever after that part is predictable…but the journey is the fun part.

What books or authors have most influenced your life?

By far Nora Roberts has influenced me the most. Next would be Karen White, she was the one that took me out of the box of 3rd person always. And Megan Hart…well, I didn’t know an erotic story could change your life! She’s amazing and none of these ladies are a waste of time or money to read.  BUT early on it was Sidney Sheldon that got me reading and made me want to write. When I knew it was romance that I enjoyed the most then it was Danielle Steel

How do your family and/or friends feel about your book or writing venture in general?

There isn’t one family member or friend who isn’t 100% supportive of my adventure into writing! They are all amazing supports!

Where are you from?

Born and raised in colorful Colorado!

How do you come up with the titles?

This is a blessing to me…they are just there in my head!

Has your life changed significantly since becoming a published writer?

I’ve certainly had to learn to take personal compliments! As a writer you can change people’s lives with your words. It’s powerful. Other than that I’m still doing what I love and in the middle of that I’m driving my kids around, trying to clean the house, and kicking butt in karate.  That’s the best part about being an author.  The book is out there now doing the work.

Do you work on one project at a time? Or do you multi-task?

Multi-task to a fault!

When not writing, how do you relax?

I’m always writing…so I must be sleeping if I’m relaxing!

Please tell us 5 miscellaneous facts about yourself.

  1.  I’m messy!
  2. I’d much rather be cold than hot. You can keep layering, but you can only get so naked.
  3. I’m a professional stylist and I cut my own hair.
  4. I can write backward as fast as I can write forward.
  5. I multiply by 9s on my fingers.

 

To learn more:

FIRST KISS  Bernadette Marie

Chapter One

 

There was a chill in the air, even in June. Cade Carter rolled the windows up on his Porsche as he began his decent into the valley. The mountains of Colorado could deliver any unprepared traveler an array of weather to cope with, and it could change without warning in a matter of moments.

Though the higher peaks still boasted snow, he’d found the entire, long and boring trip from Green Bay, Wisconsin, to be fairly dry. Cade had considered driving his Bronco to Aspen Creek, but he’d needed the speed of the sports car and Ashley had needed it to move.

He glanced at his Rolex for the sixth time in the past half hour. He was going to be late.

Who was he kidding.  He’d had no intentions of getting to his own father’s funeral on time.  Had it not been for Ashley, he’d have blown it off all together.  But no.  The words still rang in his ears.  “You have to go.  He was your father.  He loved you.  You owe him…

Cade gripped the steering wheel tighter.  He did owe him the decency to be at his funeral, because Cade Carter had been the worst son, and he knew it.

The first sign that would alert drivers to the small town of Aspen Creek was coming up on his right.  A left would take him over the next hill to the elite ski resort town of Aspen Hills.  The road he veered down would drop him into small town hell.

As the deep groves of Aspen trees thinned he could see the small town at the bottom of the valley.  Each street was visible, the cars looked small, and the town stood there as if someone had taken a picture of it fifty years earlier, not one thing had changed.  He did see a 7-11 sign peeking above the buildings.  Corporate America had moved in. That was new. At least he’d know what the coffee tasted like.

He could see City Park in the center of town.  The grass was green.  Green’s Market had the most cars in the parking lot and Sloan’s Diner must have just finished with their lunch crowd.

Aspen Creek rolled along the sides of town and under the Rose Bridge. It was fast, unforgiving, and cold all year long.  He’d had his share of dunks in that water, some on purpose, some not. Beyond the bridge and the white rapids of the river that rushed through town with its new melt off he could see the street where he’d grown up, where his father had lived, and where he’d fallen in love as a young boy.

Cade pulled the car to the shoulder of the narrow road and slammed it into park.  He lifted his sunglasses from his eyes and rubbed them.  He hadn’t been back to Aspen Creek in twelve years.  Long had been forgotten the sentiments of home, like people knowing your name, and not because you were some famous football player, but because you were Austin Carter’s son. High school football games, swimming in Aspen Creek, and the girl next door were things a man forgot about when he was an M.V.P.

He blew out a long, ragged breath. The comforts of a sports car were limited to the power of the engine on a man Cade’s size.  He tried to stretch his legs, but to no avail.  If he didn’t get out and walk around soon he’d be paralyzed in the car seat.  Just another thing he deserved he supposed.  Career killing injuries were just another daily reminder that he was lucky to be alive, even if he now stood on the sidelines and basked in the glory of what used to be.

It was easy for the team to cut him loose when he was no longer able to perform. The position needed to be filled by someone younger and able to play. He was just a washed up has-been now who’d collected his payout.

Adjusting his sunglasses back on his face, he put the car back into drive.  He had demons to face and he’d better just get it over with.  Ashley was housesitting in Green Bay and Cade was expected back in three days.  He couldn’t imagine closing out his father’s life could take longer than that.

 

Olivia Baker sat in the cemetery alone, next to the new grave and sobbed.  The funeral had been small, but Austin had kept to himself for the past two years.  She wasn’t sure everyone had even heard he’d passed.  She wiped her eyes.  No, they all knew he’d died.  He’d died right in her arms and that had gotten the attention of the local gossips.

The casket had been lowered, the chairs had been collected, and now the only man she’d ever cherished lay beneath the mound of red Colorado soil with a spray of wilting flowers atop it.  It didn’t seem dignified enough.

Her jaw clenched when she looked at the few bouquets and sprays that still lingered near the grave.  Not one of them had Cade’s name on it.

Damn him anyway.

What kind of son didn’t even make it to the funeral of the man who raised him?  The kind like Cade Carter.

The arrogant, self-centered bastard probably had some pressing football engagement and couldn’t be bothered with his father’s passing.  Some dry-cleaners probably needed him to cut their big obnoxious grand-opening ribbon with an oversized pair of scissors, and to Cade that would have always been more important than respecting his father.

Olivia noticed she’d twisted the head off a carnation at her fingertips.  She unclasped her hands and looked beyond the new grave to the one next to it.

CONNER CARTER.

Looking at the name written in stone sent chills up her spine.  She looked away.  She wondered if anyone at all had come to that funeral.  She hadn’t.  She’d been tucked away safely in Grand Junction, again, when Conner had died.  She was sure Austin had paid to bury him and had splurged for the headstone too.  And she couldn’t help but wonder if guilt over Conner’s death had in some way contributed to Austin’s death.

Just beyond the gate to the cemetery she could hear the sound of tires on the gravel.  It didn’t phase her.  Neither did her responsibilities at the bank.  Her boss Parker Woods had told her to take her time and that was what she was doing.  She was in no condition to head back to town and act professional.

Tears streaked down her face from under her dark sunglasses, and she let them fall.

The hole in her heart from Austin’s absence ached and she wondered if she’d get over her loss.  Her son Gabe would never remember the man she adored and loved.  He’d never know how much Austin Carter cherished him and loved him.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut tight.  Would she miss Austin everyday when she looked into Gabe’s eyes and saw the resemblance?

She wiped away the tears and then noticed that the driver of the car, which had parked in the lot had walked across the gravel and stood only a few feet from her.  She did what she could to compose herself.  After all, she owed it to Austin to be gracious and welcoming to his mourners.

Olivia pushed herself up from the ground, brushed off her black skirt, and turned toward the person standing behind her.

 

There was an uneasiness that settled in Cade’s gut when he saw the mound of dirt before him.  Could guilt kill a man of his stature?

The woman who had been sitting at his father’s grave stood before him, her elegant black dress covered in dust, but she didn’t seem to mind.

He swallowed hard. “Is this Austin Carter’s grave?”

The woman shook her head more in an effort to convey disgust than to signal that he was in the wrong place.  “Why did you even bother?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Why show up now, Cade?  You couldn’t even give him the decency of being here on time?”

“I…” he had no answers.  Besides who was she to be criticizing him?

Cade examined the lean, yet curvy woman in the well-worn dress who stood before him. Her hair was pulled back and dark glasses covered her eyes.  Little gold bands adorned each of her ring fingers, so she could have been someone’s wife.  Hell, he’d grown up in the town, maybe he did know her.  But still, what he did to get the funeral on time, or not, was not her concern.

“I guess you know me.  Who might you be?”

The woman opened her mouth, and then shut it again.  Instead of answering she picked her purse up off the ground and searched inside.  She pulled out a business card and handed it to him.  “I’m the one in charge of closing out your father’s estate.”

With that, she started off to the parking lot and he watched.  Back in town five minutes and he was already pissing off the women there.

He ran his hand over the back of his neck and looked at the card as the woman sped away down the hill toward town.

Olivia Baker, Vice President Aspen Creek Bank.

His head shot back up and the air in his lungs escaped him.

A man could drive into town, and the girl next door, whom he’d fallen in love with as a child, could hand him a card with her name on it and he didn’t even recognize her.

Suddenly the aches and pains in his leg, from his brush with death, didn’t hurt as bad when he was faced with a woman scorned and a week in small town hell.

About Steph

Steph is a prolific writer and bestselling author of thrilling erotic romances, paranormal thrillers, and books about the esoteric and Daemonolatry. She also dabbles in sword & sorcery fantasy fiction. A Daemonolatress and forever a resident of Smelt Isle, she is happily married and owned by a spoiled geriatric house cat. Her muse is a demanding sadistic Dom who often keeps her up into the wee hours of the morning. If she's not in the temple, traveling, or at the keyboard, she's likely out with friends. You can contact her (or her assistant, Frank) at swordarkeereon@gmail.com

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