Third Week of The Romance Review's Summer Blog Hop

It may be summer in some parts of the country, but not even a Summer Blog Hop is going to warm things up here in Northern Ohio, it seems. A perfect time to snuggle up under a blanket with my little dog, Mary, listen to the rain falling outside and read a good book. And the book in question this week? How about Samanthya Wyatt's upcoming release--The Right One.

Here's a little something about the book:
He abducts the wrong woman . . . she proves she is the right one.

Are you enticed yet? How can you not be? Let's find out more about the author behind the lovely name, shall we? 
Take it away, Samanthya!

Ever since I can remember, I have loved curling up with a book. When I was young, I wrote poems and short stories. I signed everything UNKNOWN AUTHOR. I guess even then I feared rejection. When I graduated, my life changed. I married a military man, traveled across the US and abroad, then settled in the Shenandoah Valley and had a family. My children were in high school before I started writing again. About 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.

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 several chapters including Hearts Through History Chapter, 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 Right One, the first of a trilogy “One and Only Series”. I contacted more publishers, sent my MS to editors, and continued to hope. A pitch opportunity with Savvy Authors resulted in my book being published. I’m over the moon.

I love history. Research is the pits, as far as the internet. I google everything – but when you click on websites, they usually give you something other than what you’re looking for. It takes a lot of hours to find things. But I learn a lot of history while I’m looking. So many amazing details which makes a good foundation for any MS. I also read, lots of historical romance books. I’ve taken workshops and Eliza Knight is one of the best for historical facts and castles.

I find the more I research, the more I write down, the deeper my thoughts and the more my characters come alive.

Even though historical romance is my first love, I have completed a contemporary romance “Something More” which is also soon to be released. Now I have two books coming out at the same time. How did that happen?

I must have entered a hundred contests, and not all remarks were gentle. But their criticism only made me more determined and I’m so proud I never gave up. Creating characters and bringing two people together in a romantic tale gives me great pleasure. I enjoy penning a story with strong characters, a bit of humor, and active scenes.

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.

Sounds like Samanthya and I are thinking along the same lines. If you want to take her book out for a spin before you decide to purchase, she's graciously agreed to offer up an excerpt here: 

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 peeking 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?”

Please visit my webpage: samanthyawyatt.com 

You can also find me on facebook, Goodreads, Amazon, and SMP Authors.

Thank you for your interest. Tell your friends.

Buy links:

Available after June 18, 2014

So, put this on your "To Buy" list for next Wednesday.  Now, use the Summer Blog Hop image in the upper right portion of this page and hop on over to make yourself eligible for some great prizes.