One
of the best writing classes I’ve taken is Fearless Writer by Laura Baker. In
that class, Laura helped me figure out exactly what types of stories I wanted
to write by unearthing the themes that matter most to me in life. Pinpointing
that one element has really helped me focus my stories and express my belief
system through my characters. This is
the mission statement I came up with during the class that conveys what I hope
to achieve with every story:
I write because I want to
create romantic stories that convey themes that matter to me through
emotionally stirring characters, both with and without paranormal elements. I
feel especially connected to characters who need to overcome their fears to
find happiness, acceptance, worthiness, and love, whether that fear is of
rejection, being hurt, or being vulnerable. I love creating opposing romantic
characters who demonstrate the positive effects of compassion, connection, and
the power of self-acceptance. My goal is to give readers a story with
characters they want to root for, laugh with (or at), and fall in love with.
Dangerously Dark definitely incorporates broken
characters who must scale emotional battlements before they realize they’re
perfect for each other, and for love. There’s laughter and banter, struggles
and romance, all culminating in a HEA. Figuring out what you’re passionate
about, what motivates you to write, and incorporating that into your stories
will be what keeps you writing on those tough days when nothing seems to be
going right, when the rejections roll in and sales fall flat. The message you’re
driven to share with the world through your stories matters. I highly recommend any class taught by Laura,
but if you get a chance, take Fearless Writer. You won’t regret it. Promise.
And
C.J. knows what she’s talking about. Here’s an excerpt from her new release Dangerously
Dark.
A
chittering echoed from beyond a sand dune. Whatever had made the noise remained
out of reach for now, but not long enough. She slouched. So much for downtime.
Weariness
shuddered through her. It would be so easy to curl up on the cool white sand
beneath her boots and surrender. To let whatever monster came next do its worst
and slip into oblivion for a while, despite the cost. Gripping the iron cross,
its chain wrapped around her wrist, she closed her eyes. Relaxing for even a
second was dangerous, but she was so tired, she almost didn’t care.
“Quinn.”
Close, so close, the musical voice sang a shiver through her, more sinister for
its serene softness. She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to know what
new horror haunted her nightmares and knew her name.
With
a resigned sigh, she faced the voice and froze. Zaire stood in the sand a foot
away. He was different than outside the dream. His dark hair was shorter, in a
skull cut. Same olive skin, same kiss-me mouth, but his eyes…she inhaled. His
eyes, black velvet in life, now held an abysmal void, deeper and more potent
than when he’d been a boy. The darkness there pulled at her, grasping for her
soul.
She
forced her attention to the rest of him, and her brain blanked while her body
purred. Black leather boots. Trousers covered in blue-black metallic scales.
And a shirt of the same iridescent material as his pants, only lighter. Black
weapons hung everywhere, sword at his lean hip, knives strapped across his
broad chest, on his belt, in his boots. The whip-end tail of one silver tattoo
poked past his collar and licked his collarbone.
Lethal.
Vicious. Magnificent.
He
was her midnight fantasy and nightmare combined. Fantasy because he embodied
everything she wanted. Nightmare because he wasn’t really Zaire. In her
childhood, he’d snuck into her dreams, a dark presence watching over her, but
whatever wore his face now wasn’t the boy from her past or the man she’d
finally met. She gripped her cross tighter.
“Nice
sword,” she said, her voice raspy with regret. “Come here often?”
He
watched her with those fathomless eyes, unblinking, and she had the strangest
impression that he memorized every detail of her. Probably searching for her
weak points.
The
chittering beyond the sand dune grew closer, and she nearly slumped beneath
another wave of fatigue. Fighting a manifestation of Zaire along with whatever
else came along made her want to cry.
“Why
so sad, dearling?” Deep and soothing, his musical voice only added to her
misery.
Dearling. She wouldn’t have minded Zaire
calling her that, but she wasn’t about to put up with endearments from a demon,
and dishonesty was a waste of time. The demons always knew the secrets she
tried to hide.
“Oh,
you know. All the usual.” Quinn straightened, pushing the exhaustion aside.
“Nonstop nightmares. Delusions in the daytime. Trying not to ruin my mother’s
political career. Figuring out what to do with my life. Meeting you.”
“Meeting
me brought you sadness?” His voice lowered another octave. He shifted slightly,
and his clothing shimmered, like dragon scales in the moonlight. His dark
beauty squeezed her heart. What she wouldn’t give to have him be real and with
her now, fighting the nightmares together. Calling her sweet names.
“It’s
not you, not really. It’s the idea of you. Your existence. Knowing you want to
leave.” She should kick herself. Conversing with a demon. Brilliant idea.
“Want
and need are not always equal.” Flames danced in his eyes, stirring up annoying
embers in her blood.
“Right.”
She snorted. “I’ve been around the block a time or two, pal. You read my
thoughts, manipulate my desires, and use them to tempt me into despair. Demons
one-oh-one.”
He
frowned. “I am not your…pal.”
Cresting
the dune, a shadow raced toward them, white sand churning beneath it. In
archetypal demon fashion, tendrils of fear preceded its arrival, which Quinn
ignored. She had enough experience with fear to resist its pull, and the demon
two steps away was much more treacherous.
And
undeniably intriguing.
“Sorry
about that. Do you prefer buddy?” She
grinned at an unusual burst of energy. “How about chum, bro, dude, or ol’
chap?”
“Zaire
will do,” he said stiffly.
“Nice
Zaire costume, by the way. Pal.” She rocked back on her heels, biting her lip
to keep from grinning like a crazy person. Typically, a demon staring at her
with murderous intent would batter her senses with wave after wave of horror.
Instead, she had the irresistible need to bedevil the demon.
Behind
him, the darkness loomed larger, speeding closer with each heartbeat. A shadow
man, common, familiar, and not particularly threatening. It couldn’t do much
physical damage, not when she was ready. She jerked her chin at the phantom
barreling down on them, five seconds away tops. Maybe that was what this Zaire
waited for, backup. “Friend of yours?”
Smooth
as any practiced dancer, Zaire freed a knife, pivoted, and threw it at the
shadow three yards away, all before she could flinch. The darkness exploded
into black and silver glitter, sparkling and lovely in the night.
He
waited in silence until she met his gaze again. “I don’t have friends.”
A
thrill coasted down Quinn’s spine, not the type of thrill she’d ever
experienced in her nightmares. This one spun warmth all the way to her toes and
back to her scalp. This demon was dangerous, and she
wasn’t even referring to the blades strapped to every limb—weapons that
destroyed other demons. He made her needy and achy and tingly in all the right
places.
Some call him
Purgatory’s Missing Prince. Demon Master. Overlord of Shadows. Only one woman
may call him hers.
A master of
dreams, a failure at life…
After another
botched career attempt, Quinn Carmichael escapes to a remote lodge for a
weekend recharge, needing respite…especially from the nightmares that haunt
even her days. When a wounded, sexy-as-sin stranger faceplants unconscious on
her kitchen floor, there’s something disturbingly familiar about him—as in he’s
the boy from her childhood dreams. Mr. Dark, Dangerous, and Diabolical may be
the key to unlocking the mysteries of her past and future, and Quinn isn’t
about to let the opportunity—or him—escape without a fight.
His time is
running out…
Known as
Purgatory’s Missing Prince, Zaire’s existence has been one of endless pain,
torture, and loss. Resigned to his fate, his final goal is simple—rescue his
nephew before succumbing to the deadly darkness inside him. But when a fateful
misstep brings him face-to-face with the one woman who could have saved him
once upon a dream—the one woman he treasures above all else—he battles to keep
his distance before he destroys her, too. But he would gladly sell his soul for
just one taste.
Love draws them
together, destiny will tear them apart
With ruthless enemies
closing in, Quinn and Zaire must fight to save each other and those they care
for before it’s too late—even if it means they’re doomed to live apart forever.
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